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Chapter Text

Midna was sure he was dead. There was no way the hero could survive that, no way he could go from Hylian to beast without losing himself entirely.

Maybe it was better this way. Better for the hero, at least, but it wouldn't be better for her. The legends had spoken of the hero as a divine beast, but he wasn't divine in any of the ways that mattered.

There was no whimpering, no howling. Just a long, chilling silence that crawled over Midna's skin and settled in her bones like a disease.

That was why she was sure he was dead. Divine beasts aren't silent.

The seconds passed. Midna would have enjoyed the Twilight more had it not been for the presence of the hero. The Twilight didn't feel right here; it pervaded her soul, quickened her breath.

Without warning, the hero lifted his head. His green eyes searched hers, but that couldn't be. He couldn't see her unless she wanted him to. Divine or not, he was still a creature of the Light.

But he didn't watch her for long. The hero looked away, breaking the spell. He began pulling at the chain binding his leg to the floor, willing himself to be free of it.

He whimpered. He howled. He did everything that proved to Midna he was alive. But she soon realized that being loud was undignified rather than divine. Maybe she liked him better silent.

The hero began to paw at the stone, ruining his paws to the point that blood stained the floor and his whimpers turned to cries. He turned around and around, the terror etched deep into his face. His eyes were wide and green, looking everywhere for a sign of something familiar.

Midna knew it was cruel of her not to help. After all, she had watched him transform. She had watched the young hero writhe in agony as his body changed shapes, perhaps forever, without warning and without reason.

But he had to give up before she helped him. If he was truly alive, which was obvious by now, she had to have him wrapped around her finger. She had to have the hero help her for the sake of all the world.

The hero didn't give up for what felt like hours. He was smart, testing to see how far the chain would stretch before wrenching him back. He searched out all the corners of the jail cell he could reach and he eventually stopped making noise altogether.

He must have realized that there was nobody to help him here. And if somebody did come, they wouldn't be friendly.

Midna steadied herself, preparing herself for her grand reveal. She forced her voice to become as hard as it needed to be.

“Such a sorry excuse for the hero,” she said. She floated over to him, doing her best to look exasperated. “Giving up so easily?”

The hero jumped to his feet and growled. Pain was in his eyes. And there was fear in all the places there shouldn't have been. It wrenched Midna's heart, but she had one job to do. She wasn't about to fail at it.

“You're probably wondering what's going on,” Midna said, studying her nails. “You're probably thinking, am I going to be like this forever?”

The hero barred his teeth but stopped growling. He just watched her steadily, and Midna had the instinct to know that if she came too close he would tear her apart.

“You will be like this forever unless you help me.” Midna forced herself to laugh, the sound floating throughout the room chilling and distant, as if it came from someone other than herself. “Now you're probably thinking, who is this girl? What does she want?”

The hero's eyes were so sad that she felt a thousand times worse. The markings on his face were lovely, his fur rich shades of white and gray. But he was more beautiful as a Hylian, as a creature of light, than this creature of darkness.

Midna pretended to think, humming loudly. The hero didn't have his teeth barred anymore; he wasn't even watching her, just staring down at his blood on the ground.

“If you don't attack me,” she continued, taking a deep breath. “I'll let you free of your chains. Do you hear me?”

The hero nodded, and Midna floated through the bars with some degree of caution. But he never attacked, just looked at her mournfully. His paws looked terrible, but Midna had to resist saying anything about them. The hero had a lot of walking to do, whether he liked it or not, so Midna acknowledging the pain wouldn't actually help at all.

She touched the chain binding his leg to the ground and it fizzled apart. Now free, she waited to see if the hero would pounce on the opportunity to kill her.

He didn't, so Midna hopped onto his back. Besides a slight whimper, he didn't growl or fight this turn of events at all.

“How disappointing,” she mused, draping herself over his back and onto his head. She was so close she could smell him, the fading threads of humanity that was still clinging to his fur. He smelled like the woods and some sort of cologne, musky and artificial. “I thought the hero would be more fun.”

He didn't entertain her.

She sat up and he began to trot forward painfully. He limped, and Midna realized his chained leg might have been broken from all of the pulling earlier. And his paws were bloody and torn—

Midna sighed, but didn't say a word about it. If she acknowledged it, he would think she cared, which she didn't.

She couldn't care. Not when there were so many other things that were more important than her own tender feelings.

Chapter Text

The hero was quick to learn. The more they walked through the sewers of the castle, the more he turned to beast.

Perhaps his mind was fading, but Midna didn't think so. She didn't hope so. Most likely his instincts were kicking in and he was becoming more used to his new body. Or maybe it was all her imagination, and he was no different than he was when he was laying down, presumably dead and gone forever from the world.

Midna felt weird sitting on his back. He walked across the stone, limping all the way. He winded his way down corridors and swam across the putrid water. But he did all of this without complaint. Maybe he felt he had no choice. Maybe he thought it was better this way, without fighting against the inevitable.

And slowly and surely, the smell of cologne and woods faded into something completely animal and primal—similar to that of wet dog—and Midna resisted the urge to plug her nose.

There were so many things pressing on her mind that Midna didn't even know what to think about anymore.

And the silence—it was terrible. Midna didn't know how much she enjoyed conversation before now. It was different when she was alone, because there was nobody available to fill the void. But now she was sitting on the back of the hero who was supposed to save the world, acting like she owned him, and he had no way to speak back to her.

There were blue earrings embedded in his ears. They were hoops, and Midna resisted the urge to tug them, yank them away until blood stained the stone all over again.

Violent thoughts. Evil thoughts. When had Midna become so cruel?

The hero wandered around another corner. She wanted to know his name, what sort of name befitted the hero of Hyrule. There had only been one hero before, and nobody knew much of anything about him. Or her.

Nothing. As if that hero had never existed, just another fairy tale spoken of at bedtime, dreamed about through the night, and forgotten in the morning.

All of this walking around was too tragic for her. Filled her head with too much. So she yanked on his fur harshly, forcing him to a halt.

“Such an idiot,” she insulted. “Walking around for an hour in circles and circles.”

He growled. Barely. Just enough for her to feel some sense of relief from her own mind, just enough for her to know a person with thoughts and feelings still resided in that furry head of his.

And it wasn't true. He hadn't been walking in circles. They were very close to the stairwell, actually, the one that would lead them to the roof of the castle. And she had been the one leading him, after all. He had nothing to do with any of this.

She slapped his sides regardless, and he began walking again. She turned him the wrong ways, led him the wrong directions. She insulted him the whole time—just careless words, really. Half the time, Midna didn't even know what she was saying.

But he would be less likely to run if he was scared of her. She had to get him under her control, and she had to do it fast. She was desperate. She needed him more than she had ever needed anything in her entire life.

Soon enough, she grew tired of dragging him around uselessly, so she led him the right way. The stairwell was dank and smelled like rotten fish and was actually missing more than a few steps.

She laughed, twirling away onto one of the steps, beckoning the hero to jump up at her.

The hero looked at her blankly.

“Just jump,” she said. “Surely you can do something as simple as that.”

The hero didn't make a move, so Midna sighed. This time, the sigh wasn't forced or exaggerated. It was very real.

“Just jump towards me. Pretend you're attacking me for all I care; I just need you up here and I need you now.”

The hero snarled towards her, but missed the step. She faded away before he could claw at her, re-materializing on his back. He looked up at her, dismayed. Clearly, he had meant to actually attack her.

She jumped back up, and once the hero seemed recovered enough from his fall, he repeated the process. After the third or fourth jump, he stopped trying to hurt her. He jumped, weakly, scrabbling onto the stone with his wounded paws.

Submission. It was too easy, too soon, but maybe the change in form had jolted him more than she realized. Maybe it was more of a shock when you turned into a wolf than anything else; she wouldn't know. She had never transformed into a divine beast.

They winded around the stairwell; soon they would be on the roof of the castle. Maybe the princess would help the hero understand his destiny. They were supposedly tied by some invisible link. The first hero and the princess were supposedly lovers.

Maybe it would help. Maybe it wouldn't. But one way or another, the hero would be made into exactly what Midna needed him to be.

Without him, there was no way to aid the Light Spirits of this world, no way to navigate the darkness. She needed him.

But just watch her admit that. Because she wouldn't. Not now and not ever.

And especially not to him.

Chapter Text

When Zelda was young, she believed in fairy tales. She believed the hero would grace Hyrule with his presence and rescue everyone from evil. Maybe he would save her from some ferocious beast then marry her in some extravagant ceremony. Or maybe he would be her best friend, someone to confide in and depend on in the darkest of times.

But as she grew older, those dreams were dashed to the ground. Not that it really mattered. For a long time, it seemed the hero would never be needed. Hyrule was prosperous, its people happy. Zelda was grateful to be the princess in such peaceful times, even if it meant she had to give up her dreams of adventure and romance.

But then the Twilight arrived. Not many knew about it, but everyone did know the king was dead. The people of Hyrule went into mourning. And without her father, she had never felt more alone. She had nobody now; she had lived a sheltered life. And it was a terrible realization that, with her father dead, she had nobody in the world who loved her.

Princess Zelda was now the sole monarch, soon to be queen, so she had to put on a brave face around her people. She couldn't let her depression show; she had to appear brave and gracious. Especially when her people were so confused—they didn't understand how the king had died and they didn't understand why. They just knew he was dead. And it was such a burden for Zelda to know the true cause.

Oh, the Twilight—how she hated it, hated everything about it. She hated the way it arrived and consumed the land with its thick, gloomy presence. She hated how it left her people wandering about, completely oblivious to the fact their light had been stolen. She hated how their ties to goddess were severed—if they were not connected to the light, to Hylia, how could they continue to call themselves Hylians?

And then there was Midna, who arrived mere days after the Twilight, after her father's death. She was an annoying pest who wouldn't go away, following Zelda all over the castle for weeks before finally introducing herself.

But instead of being an assassin, Midna was a small, oddly formed thing who at first glance looked like a demon. She was all orange hair and sharp teeth, and couldn't have been much larger than a toddler. Her presence was impressive, however; the hunk of stone covering half of her face domineering and terrifying. Her features were feline, her exposed eye red and glowing in the darkness.

When Midna did made her decision to speak to Zelda, she simply floated up to her, as if it was nothing more than a casual conversation. Zelda did her best to appear regal and strong. Because this creature—this thing—could not possibly be her friend.

But Midna did not have the intention to harm her. Rather, she had a much more complicated and grander intention than just killing the princess.

Not that Zelda listened to them. Each of them were foolish, ridiculous schemes that involved the hero bringing peace to both the Hylians and the Twili. But the hero was nothing but a fairy tale—nothing more and nothing less. Zelda would be damned if she believed in something like him.

She had her people to rule. She didn't have time to dream.

And now, months later, Midna had returned, sitting on the back of a wolf. And she seemed to think the whole situation was hilarious, laughing so loud Zelda was sure she would never forget the sound.

“Aren't you going to ask why we're here?” Midna asked.

Zelda ignored her, focusing her attention on the wolf instead. His wide, green eyes were curious. His fur was matted with dirt and blood. The markings of the Twilight Realm designed his forehead—a crudely drawn diamond with a dot in the center and lines spoking from it like a wheel.

“Does this girl honestly fancy you the hero?” Zelda asked him. She removed the hood of her robe, leaning down to touch his muzzle. The wolf made no sign of attacking her, and if she didn't know better, she would say there was some degree of recognition in his eyes. “I'm sorry you have met such a terrible fate, but there is nothing I can do to help.”

“He doesn't understand you,” Midna sneered. She hopped off his back, catapulting into the air and sitting on Zelda's shoulder. Zelda resisted the urge to smack her away, but that would only make Midna even more obnoxious than she already was.

“I don't know why you came here,” Zelda said. “I don't see the point.”

Midna laughed, jumping off Zelda's shoulder and onto the poor wolf's back again. She slapped his sides, but he didn't complain. “Because I found the hero, of course. Isn't that exciting? Even someone like you should be thrilled.”

“It's too late for the hero to save us,” Zelda said, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep and forget the past few months. She wished none of this had never happened, that she could go back to worrying about trivial, everyday things. “The world must have a balance of light and dark; that balance has been upset too long now. And everybody knows the hero is only a legend.”

Midna sighed. “You don't have to sound so sad. I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Twilight princess, but it is never too late for the world to be saved. You should always choose on the side of hope.”

Zelda got to her feet, turning away from Midna and the wolf. The shadows of her kingdom loomed beyond her window, beyond the small world of her bedroom, reminding her that Midna was wrong. There was no hope.

Midna wasn't finished with her lecture, however. She laughed again, the sound permanently ingraining itself in Zelda's ears. “I thought that if anyone would believe me, it would surely be the princess. But the hero didn't need you then and he doesn't need you now.”

Zelda whirled around. An anger burst in her chest, hot and bright. “You really think this beast is the hero of legend? That's foolish, Midna, even for you.”

“I thought you would help,” Midna whined. She slapped the wolf's sides again, but this time he growled in complaint. “Maybe you have an idea about how to change him back?”

“You have that poor boy terrified of you, don't you?” Zelda shook her head, wishing she could delete the image of Midna and the wolf from her mind. “It's probably too late to help him, anyway. You should let him go, give him a chance to enjoy the little bit of life he has left.”

Midna screeched in frustration. “Fine! Then we'll do this without you.”

“You won't do anything, because this boy—this beast—is not the hero. It doesn't matter how much you believe in your fairy tales; it doesn't change the fact they aren't true.”

If Zelda didn't know any better, Midna looked like she was about to cry. She almost regretted her words when Midna's lower lip trembled. But in only a moment, her usual smirk was back on her face. Zelda could have only imagined the emotion at all. As far as she knew, Midna's heart was a charred lump of coal.

“The legends speak of three dragons,” Midna said. “Can't they help us, even if the lovely princess cannot?”

Zelda sat down at her desk, folding her hands in her lap. “The three dragons do not exist, Midna. And you better leave before one of my guards come; they might be able to see you.”

“You know as well as I do the guard won't be able to see us; we're invisible to the average human.”

“I can see you,” Zelda reminded her. “Stop believing fairy tales and just leave already. Leave me be.”

Midna gave her a long look. A look that told Zelda she meant nothing to Midna, and she never would. But it didn't matter. It was better to keep Midna away; a girl like her could never save anyone.

The wolf scrambled onto Zelda's desk—smearing mud and blood all over her books and papers—and broke through Zelda's window, escaping into the stormy night.

Leaving Zelda alone with her piles of wet history books and royal stationary, glittering shards of glass catching the candlelight. Leaving her with even less of a hope than she already had.

Because she knew something Midna didn't.

The hero—he was already dead.

Chapter Text

Midna brought herself and the hero back to Faron Province, back to the spring that had started it all. She slowly pulled their bodies through the portal the Shadow Beasts had left behind, and she was thankful when they both seemed to arrive intact.

If the journey through the portal scared the hero, he didn't make a sign of it. It should have scared him. The first time Midna had been pulled through one, she had been frightened for days.

Ordon Village—the place of the hero's origins—was so close by Midna could almost picture their commonplace, easy life. It must have been terrible for the hero to be wrenched away from it like that—by evil, gnarled beasts that looked the complete opposite of human.

It was early morning. The sky was a bright blue, the sun friendly and warm. Midna hated it; she was forced to wrap herself in the hero's shadow, covering herself away from the light that could kill her. Her powers paled under the Light Realm's influence; she was weak, only a caricature of her true self.

At first, the hero seemed to think she was gone. He walked around in the spring water, sniffing around. His tail was straight as an arrow, then relaxed when he found no sign of her.

But Midna wasn't about to let the hero relax that easily. In this world, he was never safe.

She soaked up all of the lovely darkness his shadow provided, then burst out in front of him. She looked him deep in the eye. “Thought you would get rid of me that easily, huh?”

The hero began to shake. He stepped back, paws splashing through the healing water of the spring. Most people didn't realize the springs held healing properties; Midna hoped the hero did. But if he didn't, she wasn't about to tell him.

Hopefully if she talked to him long enough, stalling him at the edge of the spring, his paws would heal a little and wouldn't hurt so bad.

“You want to save your friends, don't you?” Midna sighed when he stared at her blankly. “Don't act dumb; there was a girl with you when you were taken. And there was a little boy. Oh, and some other small children…”

He looked down at his reflection. The markings of the Twilight looked back at him. Midna wondered if they would still be there once he turned back into a human—if he turned back into a human. But would the goddess be that cruel?

Some versions of the legend would say yes. Others would say no. Midna used to prefer the ones where the goddess was evil. The ones where she had chosen the hero due to her own selfish desires. The goddess had felt more human that way, closer to Midna's own heart. It made her feel better about herself.

But now she hoped that the ones where she was kind and beautiful and patient were true. Because if the hero really was going to save the world, he needed all the help he was going to get.

“You can't save them like this,” Midna reminded him. “The dragon of courage—Faron—should be able to help you.”

The hero finally looked up at her.

“What? You believe that sorry excuse for a princess before me?” Midna rolled her eyes. “Whatever. But if you want your friends saved, you need me. I'll help you find Faron so you can become yourself again. Deal?”

The hero didn't even flick his tail. He just glared. But at least he didn't look like he was going to bite off her head anymore.

“You want to know what you have to do in exchange?” Midna laughed. “That's a secret until you're human again. And how do I know if your little doggy brain is up to understanding such a task?”

The hero made no sign of understanding her. Maybe she was right and he didn't understand a thing. Regardless, she continued to talk. Her mind was haywire; maybe once she talked just a little bit more, she would feel better.

“You need a sword and shield to protect yourself once you're human again,” she said. “This world is crawling with monsters from the Twilight Realm, and you need to learn how to protect yourself.”

There was a flick of the hero's tail, but nothing else.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Midna scowled. “Surely you know where to steal those things in such a tiny village.”

Just as the hero snarled back into life—looking ready to bite her head off again—a great spirit loomed out of the water. It was made of light itself. It was simply a great, shimmering cloud. Not a dragon—but beggars can't be choosers. And Midna surely wasn't a beggar.

“Take that, Zelda!” Midna hissed, hurrying into the hero's shadow, wrapping herself in its darkness.

“We meet again, hero,” Faron said. She sighed mightily. “We have both changed forms, it seems.”

The hero lifted his head to look at her. But he didn't recognize her, and that seemed to disappoint Faron.

“Oh, young hero. You must reclaim the light that was stolen from these woods.” The light flickered, as if she were crying in the only way she knew how to. “It has been hundreds of years since we have last spoken to one another. But I have missed you. Please reclaim the light and bring peace back to Hyrule.”

A sparkling vessel shimmered out from the cloud. Without thinking, Midna rose up to catch it. It was old—rust decorated the smooth metal—but it must have been beautiful once. It twisted like twine; whichever way Midna twisted it, it remained that shape.

Faron began to laugh. “Once again the hero teams up with that of darkness. Needless to say, I'm not very surprised.”

For some reason, Midna felt the need to blush. She was happy the shadows covered her cheeks. Whatever Faron was talking about, she didn't know; she couldn't remember a single legend that had spoken of the hero siding with darkness—as far as she knew, the hero was perfect.

“There are creatures of shadow in my woods that have stolen the light,” Faron continued. “Bring them to me once they have been destroyed and the light has been found.”

“Why?” Midna asked. “What good will that do?”

“The Twilight pervading these woods will be held at bay. My power will be returned, and I will have a new form, then. And sadly not that of a dragon.” Faron sighed. “But at least I won't be this. And please take care of that vessel; it is the same one the Hero of the Skies used in the silent realms. I gave it to you in the hopes it will bring the two of you good fortune in undertaking this task.”

Faron faded away without so much as a goodbye. Midna wrapped the vessel around her wrist like a bracelet. It was a relic. It was something the actual hero had touched, had used. A thrill filled her from the inside out; the legends were true and the hero was real, and that was enough.

“You heard her,” Midna snapped, fighting to keep the happiness out of her voice. She reclaimed the hero's shadow as her own, reveling in its darkness. “Find the tears of light. Maybe then you will become Hylian again. And, at the very least, the Twilight will have less of this world in its possession.”

Chapter Text

“Is that really the best you can do?” Midna complained.

They had been searching for the light all day, and Midna was hungry and tired. The hero's back wasn't exactly comfortable, and the longer they were out in the woods, the more irritable she became.

And it didn't help that the hero's fur was stained from the sewer water and he limped every step. It didn't help that blood and guts from tearing open the Twilight creatures decorated his chest.

But it did help that the darkness covered the worst of it. Midna wasn't sure if she could tolerate a close up shot—she could tolerate a lot, but not that.

The hero gnashed his teeth before darting behind a tree. He almost jostled her from his back, but she managed to hang on. He began to sniff around the trunk, his muzzle moving around the decaying debris littering the floor of the woods.

Midna wished so badly the last creature would be there, hiding underneath some rotted plant or beneath some unidentifiable skull. They just needed to kill one more of the stupid, disgusting things and then they could save Faron and be done with this hideous task.

The hero growled when he didn't find anything. But Midna wasn't surprised—of course he didn't. Why would a creature of the Twilight be hiding there? But he didn't move to look anywhere else. He just sat there, clearly frustrated and howling out a complaint.

“What?” Midna tugged at his blue earrings, pulling back his ears. “Are you remembering my evil, dark magic pulling you through the curtain of Twilight and into this hell of a woods? Or are you just thinking of me in general?”

The hero didn't reply. He began to trot, sniffing every tree. Midna examined the vessel wrapped around her wrist, the light contained in each of its grooves. If it wasn't contained like this, if it would somehow break free and consume the entire world, Midna wouldn't survive. This was light in its purest form.

If it weren't for shadows, if it weren't for darkness, Midna would be gone forever. She didn't like to think she envied the Hylians; she didn't. But sometimes she couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to forever live under a blue sky and without the constant fear of the light.

“You're probably wanting me to explain what's going on, aren't you, wolf boy?” Midna asked, tugging on his earrings until he halted to a stop.

She would never admit it, but this was her way of allowing the hero to rest. The poor thing was shivering from the cold and most likely hating her more and more with every step. Not to mention, the woods around them were dark and oppressive, menacing and cruel. It wasn't exactly the most encouraging setting for the hero's first mission.

Hopefully Faron could fix him with her fancy Light Realm magic. That would be good. She wanted to talk to the hero, she wanted to know his name.

She wanted to care about him. But within this war of light and dark, there wasn't enough room to care.

“The Twilight is eating up the world,” Midna said dramatically. “Most lifeforms, when entering the Twilight Realm, become nothing more than their soul. But they walk on, never knowing that they have lost their bodies.”

The hero was listening. His ears were pricked. But that could only be because she had been tugging them by his earrings; that had probably hurt.

There was no way to know for sure. Not really.

“Anyway,” Midna continued, “the princess didn't change because she's protected by the goddess. Surely you have heard the story of the hero. Don't you know of your origins?”

The hero didn't respond. Midna hopped off his back, settling down in front of him. The ground was cold and covered in dirt and leaves, but it would have to do. The hero regarded her. He was somewhat interested, and that had to be enough at the moment. There wasn't much else to have.

“In every legend I have ever heard, the hero would return as a divine beast,” Midna said. She had rehearsed that line many times, and it was a true thrill to finally say it to the hero himself. “There have been other heroes, of course, but there has only been one chosen by the goddess. You are the second. To distinguish you from the rest of these so-called heroes, you have been transformed into a wolf. Wasn't that kind of her?”

The hero shuffled, sniffing the ground for the shadow creature. So much for teaching him something new. Midna yawned, stretching out her own disinterest. She had been too vulnerable. There were few things Midna held closer to herself than the legend of the hero.

It shouldn't have stung that he was disinterested. But it did.

The hero continued to sniff and mosey around. Midna found it doubtful he would find the last creature that easily. It was probably hiding in the treetops, cackling down at them and enjoying its relative safety.

Midna allowed herself to rest, leaning back in the air and closing her eyes. She couldn't help but wonder where this hero's story had begun. Was it as a simple peasant boy? Was he from a wealthy family? A poor one? She wanted to know everything about his life, what had given him such a sad look in his eyes.

It couldn't have just been turning into a wolf. There must be some thread of sadness within him that ran much deeper than that. After all, he couldn't possibly define himself by this one moment in his life.

The hero gnashed his teeth when he heard a buzzing sound, growling so loud it rattled Midna's teeth. She hopped on his back in just the knick of time. He tore through the woods, chasing after the final creature that had stolen the light.

The shadow creatures were huge and spider-like, sending chills up and down Midna's spine. They were black and the personification of darkness itself—even though Midna was a creature of the Twilight, there was still the word “light” in that name. Pure darkness still terrified her, still haunted her days.

The hero got it in his paws, ripping it open with his teeth. Midna wondered if the taste would linger in his mouth. When and if he became Hylian once more, would he remember the taste of blood and torn flesh?

The light spilled from the open belly of the creature, lifting up into the air. Midna grasped it in her hands, and it changed to fit into the last groove of the bracelet.

“Good work,” she said without thinking. The hero panted, dark blood spilling from his mouth. “Now let's return to Faron. Maybe she can do something about… your current appearance.”

The hero growled.

“What? You want to stay this way?”

The hero growled again.

“Good. Because you have no choice. You're going to become Hylian again, and that is that.”

Chapter Text

This hero was remarkably different than the first. He was hardened by his past; just looking at him Faron could feel his deep pain. And if Faron didn't know any better, she would have said they were wrong about him, that the true hero was yet to be found.

He approached her with a steady gaze that was more animal than human. But that should probably be expected—he had been transformed into a beast, after all. And he was probably beginning to think he would always be this way.

And that girl on his back—Midna of the Twilight Realm—she was a dark, evil creature. She was nothing like the first hero's companion. She did not want the best for him. That was obvious by the way she spoke, by the way she sat on his back like she owned him.

“We have discovered them all,” Midna said, tossing the vessel into the air as if it meant nothing to her. The light spilled from it, enveloping the spring with its warmth.

And Faron had never felt more grateful to be reborn.

She was not reborn as a dragon, sadly, but as a monkey wrapped around a glowing ball of light. How boring! How undignified!

Apparently, this was the form that would best aid the hero. Faron knew that how she looked reflected the time—but she had been a dragon so long and would miss it.

“Step forward, hero,” Faron said, hoping to sound as magnificent as she used to. The hero did as told, more obedient than the first. She always had to pick up the first in her claw and wag him around in the air for awhile before he would listen.

The hero stood directly in front of her. Midna was smart enough not to act like his comrade. She morphed to fit his shadow, cowering from the light that was slowly changing the area back to the way it used to be.

Faron extended her energy over the poor beast, enveloping him with it. Midna was lost with the disappearance of his shadow, and having nowhere to hide, nestled in the dark canopy of a tree.

The hero writhed as he changed shapes yet again, back to the boy he once was. The process was slow. Midna watched from the branches, her exposed eye bright red and glowing in the shadows.

The hero growled as he shifted, his fur receding and his bones changing to accommodate the shape of his true form. His growls eventually turned to humans screams of pain. His claws disappeared, his fangs morphed, his tail crept back into his spine.

When the process was all over, the hero was still on all fours. He was panting and whimpering and altogether a pitiable sight.

“Stand to face me,” Faron commanded. “There is nothing to be afraid of any longer.”

The hero blinked. The markings of the Twilight Realm remained on his forehead—the color a light shade of gray. Forever marked, just as the hero before him. His green eyes were slowly turning back to blue. He kept blinking—as a wolf he hadn't been able to see so much color all at once. It must have been quite a shock for him when everything returned so suddenly.

And it took him much longer than necessary to realize he was human again. Faron waited with all of the patience she had left, which wasn't much. When he finally did attempt to stand up, he immediately fell back into the water of the spring, hitting the ground rather hard.

“You look just like him,” Faron said. Because what else was there to say? It was true. Just looking at him was like looking at the first hero all over again.

The hero sat back in the water, looking up at her with some degree of hatred. But he had no reason to hate her—did he? Faron had turned him back to his true form, after all, and he looked almost the same as he had before. He wore the same clothes, had the same hair—the only difference was the Twilight markings on his forehead. But those weren't that big of a deal.

It could be worse. He could have had flowers and vines littering the entirety of his body.

So overall, Faron thought she did a pretty good job.

The hero continued to glare at her. There was arrogance in his gaze, something the first hero never had.

“Your true name is Link,” Faron said. “Your mission is to save this world from the invading Twilight.”

He didn't say anything. Just glared. The light slowly but surely refilled the area, and Faron was beginning to feel more in control of her realm again.

Oftentimes, pride was confused with being submissive. Or maybe the two were interchangeable. But this hero—he was too proud to let her know what he was thinking, too proud to even respond with a simple nod or shake of the head.

She wondered what had made him so hard. She wondered why he didn't attempt to stand up again anyway, and she wondered why he didn't argue about his destiny. When she was a little girl and was told she would serve the goddess, she had cried and cried.

But this hero said nothing. Maybe he didn't care about Hyrule and this was all a game to him.

Or maybe he cared too much.

“If you wish to save Hyrule, you must find the other Light Spirits that populate this land,” Faron said to dead ears. The hero wasn't listening—or if he was, he made no sign of it.

With that said, Faron allowed herself to fade from view. She was certain they would meet again. After all, she and the hero had quite the history.

And now they had quite the ways to go in forming a friendship—or at the very least, an alliance. This hero hated her, and she wasn't above worrying about the reason why.

Hopefully he would be what they needed. Hopefully he would be all they had asked for and more.

Chapter Text

The spring was silent. The hero looked around, searching for Midna. She was happy she was being searched for. It was a nice feeling to be expected to be a pest no matter the circumstance.

Midna didn't creep out from the shadows; she was too curious to do something like that. She wanted to see what the hero would do without her guidance.

The seconds passed, the sun began to set, spilling low over the trees. Still, the hero didn't move from where he had fallen in the spring, looking down at his own reflection. He touched the markings on his forehead, probably wondering what the hell they were.

After awhile he shook his head, dismissing them, then tried to stand up again. He wobbled, but managed to stay upright. After a quick glance in Midna's general direction, he walked out of the cold comfort of the spring and onto the path leading to Ordon Village.

Midna swept into his shadow, following close behind him. It was a bad idea for him to go and scare the villagers, especially with him looking like a wounded animal. There was still something feral about him, and he looked like he might fall over with every step he took.

The hero didn't walk into the village; rather, he took a sharp right and Midna was surprised to find a small cabin nestled amongst the trees. She would have missed it if the hero hadn't led her there.

He opened up the door and stepped inside. The room was small and had only the very basic of necessities. The hero couldn't have been much older than seventeen; where was his family?

She couldn't believe that he lived here all alone, out in the woods with nobody to watch him or take care of him.

When the hero sat down on the pathetic thing he called a bed, which was lumpy and prickly from straw, Midna allowed herself to be seen. He didn't look surprised, just resigned to his fate. The hero was unabashed as he looked at her, roaming his eyes up and down her small form.

Midna watched him back. He was a handsome boy. The blue earrings and the Twilight markings suited him somehow, made him seem even more attractive than he already was.

They studied each other for a long time, Midna taking in every ounce of his appearance. He didn't look like an experienced swordsman, but he could always learn. But he didn't look weak, either—other than his current exhaustion, he looked healthy enough.

“What's your name?” Midna asked.

The hero laughed. It was a nice sound—a little deeper than she expected. But it held no humor. “What's yours?” he asked in return.

“Midna.”

“Like midnight?” The hero smiled, and Midna could almost hear her name being turned over in his head. “It definitely suits you.”

“Thank you.” Midna crossed her arms, forcing her own smile to stay away. “Now it's your turn. Tell me yours.”

The hero continued to smile. He looked so tired, like he could fall asleep right then and there without any difficulty. There were shadows under his eyes that looked like they'd been there for months rather than days—maybe even years.

“Don't just smile at me!” Midna pretended to stomp her foot. “Tell me about yourself. You're going to help me find something important, and I can't just keep calling you 'the hero' in my head.”

“I don't have a name,” he said softly. “I've never had a name.”

Midna forced out a laugh. “Of course you have a name, wolf boy.”

“I don't, and it's definitely not that. Faron called me Link, didn't she? That's as good a name as any other.”

“But that's not your name,” Midna snapped. “That's the first hero's name, not yours. Tell me what your real name is before I get angry.”

The hero sighed at that comment. He wouldn't look her in the eye. That could have been easily attributed to the fact Midna was the personification of the Twilight itself, but she didn't think that was the case this time.

But she wasn't about to relent. Especially when she needed this boy for her own purposes—and she would need him to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, no matter the cost.

“Carry on, wolf boy,” Midna said, slinking back into his shadow. It was nice to become invisible whenever she wanted. “You need to find yourself a sword and shield so you can save your friends.”

The hero got to his feet, making his way over to a shabby chest of drawers. “I already have everything I need for this journey,” he said. “Stop acting like you can push me around, because you can't.”

Well, then. Midna felt like an idiot. The hero began to dress out of his everyday clothes, and Midna kept her eyes closed. The last thing she wanted was to see something she didn't want to.

At least, not yet.

The tunic the hero put on was a burnt yellow and Midna wanted to complain that the hero's tunic should be green. But she couldn't remember where she had heard that, so she stayed silent.

Once he was fully dressed, immediately looking more heroic in appearance, he lifted up the floorboards to reveal an opening that led down into a dark cellar. After lighting a candle, he dropped down into it, unafraid of the darkness Midna used to have nightmares about.

The hero looked around, carrying around the candle until he found a sword hanging on the wall. It was made from Ordon goat horn and looked sturdy enough. But Midna didn't know much about swords, only that the hero was supposed to have one.

Midna lurked up onto the hero's shoulder, glaring down at the sword through the flickering candlelight. She enjoyed how she had made the hero shiver; it proved he had been lying when he said she couldn't push him around.

He was terrified of her. His breath stilled and Midna could feel his rapid heartbeat against the delicate skin of his neck.

“Did you steal that sword?” she asked him. “If you really are a boy without a name, they wouldn't give you something like that.”

The hero looked sad about what she had said. Not angry, just sad, which was the complete opposite of what she had intended.

He grabbed the shield that had been hanging beside it. It had the Hylian crest painted on the front, a pair of wings spread out beneath the Triforce. It was wooden, so it wouldn't do much against fire, but it was better than what Midna had been expecting.

Which was nothing. Now that she thought about it, she expected nothing from the hero other than for him to exist.

He equipped the sword and shield. The sheath was plainly decorated, with flowers and vines decorating it in colorful embroidery.

“I'm a ranch hand,” the hero said. Midna wasn't sure why he said it. Perhaps to defend himself. Or maybe it was because he couldn't think of anything else to say. “My master gave this sword to me in case the goats needed defending from predators.”

When Midna didn't respond, the hero climbed up the ladder leading back into his house. He looked like a swordsmen now, and he was probably skilled. Midna had the feeling he had practiced with that sword a lot, had used it for many other things than protecting goats. And he had probably used it when he thought nobody was looking—he didn't seem like the sort of boy who listened to authority.

“Do you care about these children?” Midna asked as he replaced the floorboards, resealing the cellar. “If you don't, maybe you should just leave them alone.”

The hero shook his head. He looked disgusted with her. “That's not right, Midna, and you know it.”

“They already think you're dead.” Midna crossed her arms. “And isn't it better this way, without them worrying about you?”

The hero didn't respond, simply blowing out the candle. But she had the stirrings of respect for him. Going out there to save people who didn't love him enough to give him a name seemed brave. Midna could have cared less about people like that—if the tables were turned and she was the hero, she would only be worried about herself right now.

“You told me I needed to help you before you helped me,” the hero said. “But I don't understand that. What can someone like me possibly do for someone like you?”

Midna blinked. “There's a Forest Temple nearby,” she murmured. “I need to find something quickly. It's been hiding in there for quite some time.”

“What is it?”

“Does it matter? The sooner we can part ways, the better. I don't particularly enjoy socializing with you, wolf boy, and you obviously feel the same way.”

“That isn't fair to say. You haven't even given me a chance to like you.”

Midna laughed. “Don't you know the expression? You can never trust actions, only words.”

“Isn't it the opposite of that?”

“Good catch. You're right, wolf boy. Now carry on—it's time to go to the Forest Temple. Aren't you just itching to be rid of me?”

The hero didn't respond. And Midna was grateful for that. At least his silence meant he was listening.

Chapter Text

Link stomped through the woods. He had no idea how much time had passed since he'd been stolen. It could have easily been years—it was hard to process time as a wolf. But if the gashes torn across his palms meant anything, they meant that he had been broken out of the jail by Midna only recently.

If Ilia hadn't kidnapped his horse, he wouldn't be in this mess. He would have been on the way to Castle Town, probably would have already returned, and would have went back to his mundane and ordinary life. Beautifully oblivious to everything that was going wrong.

But now he had a demon in his shadow and the taste of blood in his mouth.

Midna talked a lot. She talked about all sorts of things on the way to the temple. It was nice to spoken to. Back at the ranch, he would go days without speaking to a single soul.

“It must have been scary to become a wolf like that,” she said, sitting on his shoulder. She was only a shadow, a reflection of herself. The only thing Link could really make out was her bright, red eye. “Wasn't it… terrifying?”

Link shrugged, not giving her the answer she wanted. It was only for her own sick joy, which wasn't fair. He'd rather be silent if it meant that.

But he wanted to say his new name a thousand times. Even if this Twilight creature didn't accept Link as his name, it didn't matter. He honestly didn't care one bit what she thought of him or what she called him. But he needed her to be on his good side.

Because he had to save the children. He could imagine it, the silence of the village. The sadness that must be pervading everyone, just the same as the Twilight that was consuming the rest of the world.

“You're so quiet,” Midna complained. She was always complaining. There was this tone to her voice that Link couldn't stand—it made him feel annoyed and irritable. “Are you usually this quiet? Or are you just quiet to me?”

“Not everything's about you,” Link said.

“Oh, please. Everything is most certainly about me.”

“Do you even know where the Forest Temple is?”

“Sure do. Any true fan of the Hero of the Skies knows about that.” Midna laughed, but Link didn't understand what was so funny. The laugh faltered, and Link almost regretted not laughing along. “It should be right around here, just past this clearing. It used to have a different name, but nobody remembers it.”

“But they remember it had a different name.” Link stopped walking. The night was so dark. He wanted to sleep—he hadn't slept in so long he couldn't even remember what it felt like.

“Keep walking,” Midna commanded. “There will be time to rest later.”

Link sighed before marching on. All he could see were trees. Nothing else. How would a temple even manage to hide back here? Surely somebody would have noticed it in all this time.

But Link had to retract those thoughts, because only a moment later, a great temple loomed out from the woods.

It had a great, spiraling staircase. Nostalgia swept over him, but he didn't know why. The temple was grand despite its crumbling exterior. At one time, it must have been quite a marvel to look at.

Link walked up the steps, wincing with every touch of his foot on stone. His boots were uncomfortable. Somehow, it was easier to walk on fours. Or maybe that was just his imagination.

There was really no way to know.

The entrance to the temple was covered with vines and flowers. Link reached out to pull them away, but Midna held him back. She latched onto his wrist with her tiny hands.

“Whoa,” she said. “You have a tattoo of the Triforce!”

Link swatted her away. He continued to pull at the vines until he could creak open the door a little bit. He squeezed through the small opening, emptying out into a very dusty hallway.

It must have been beautiful once, the carpet lush and a deep red. It must have been filled with all sort of things—ornate decorations and ancient technology. He wished he could have seen it, the way it must have been when it was new.

“You're not going to tell me why you have it?” Midna snapped. “Honestly, wolf boy, if you're holding out on me—”

“I've been here before,” he interrupted. “Tell me why I've been here before.”

“How would I know? I've only met you a day or so ago.”

Link glared at her. “Whatever!”

He marched down the hallway, past various rooms and compartments. He wished he could just turn around and leave. Could turn his back on all of this. But it was too late—his days of peace were long over.

“You look pale,” Midna said. “Why do you look pale?”

“Tell me why you're following me around!” Link drew his sword. Midna flew back into his shadow, afraid he would try to strike her. “Tell me what's going on!”

“You're the hero,” Midna said, crawling up his skin. She latched onto his shoulder, speaking into his ear. “Isn't it obvious?”

“I'm not the hero,” Link whispered. “I'm just a ranch hand.”

“Didn't you listen to Faron? You're the hero.” Midna floated directly in front of him. She smirked when she noticed he already had his sword down, the blade pointing towards the ground. “And right now, you need to save your friends.”

Link ignored her, stomping down the hall. It just curved and curved until it emptied out into a large room. A door marked with the Triforce stood at the very end of it.

“You said you know a lot about the hero,” Link said, not sure why he even wasted his breath. “Tell me what you know.”

“Since when do I answer to you?” Midna sped ahead of him. She beckoned him forward, nodding towards the door. “Hurry up. One of the things I need is this way.”

Link begrudgingly caught up to her, touching his left hand to the door marked with the Triforce. It promptly faded away. Without further ado, Midna rushed ahead of him.

The room emptied into a dried up spring, filled with plants and vines. Link sneezed. The flowers were large and white, shimmering with pollen.

And in the center of it all lay a piece of gray stone that matched the one on Midna's head. She picked it up, grinning.

“Thank you,” she said, the stone disappearing into thin air. “Now then, are you ready to become a divine beast all over again?”

Link was too busy sneezing to answer.

Midna pouted. “But aren't you so excited to see Hyrule? I know I am.”

Link wasn't. But he didn't want to admit something like that to her. The Twilight awaited him, its darkness settling over Hyrule like a plague. He couldn't look forward to seeing Hyrule again. Especially when he could remember his transformation into a wolf too vividly. And the memory of becoming human again—he could remember that even more so.

Link just wanted to sleep. He just wanted to be a boy with no name again, worried about the goats and other trivial matters.

Chapter Text

“I thought you said I could rest.” Link sighed, fiddling with the sleeves of his tunic.

“Did I?” Midna shrugged. “I'm sorry, but I don't remember saying that.”

“Where are we even going?”

“Isn't it obvious, wolf boy?” Midna sped ahead of him, a small shadow crossing the great expanse of land before them. When he was younger, the world had seemed so much smaller.

“I'm sorry,” Link said, wincing when the rough fabric of his tunic brushed against the palms of his hands. But the pain wasn't too bad—by now, it had mostly become a slight burn. And it didn't really matter. He'd definitely been through worse.

Midna laughed wickedly. Link didn't think he would ever get used to that laugh; it sent chills up his spine. “What in the world do you have to be sorry for?”

Link shrugged. “I don't know. I just thought I should say it.”

This time, it was Midna's turn to shrug. “You're the hero whether you like it or not. None of the legends ever said the hero was reluctant to be one.”

“I'm not reluctant! Just tired.” Link walked after her. There was nothing to be seen for miles, just thousands of stars in the sky. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“To see Eldin, of course.” Midna sped back to him, sitting on his shoulder. She rubbed her cold hands over the markings on his forehead, laughing merrily. “Isn't it exciting? I can't believe the dragons are real!”

“Faron wasn't a dragon,” Link reminded her. “She was a monkey.”

“So? She was a dragon once.” Midna disappeared into his shadow. “Now I'm going to try to get some sleep, so don't bug me.”

Link tried to stomp on her through his shadow. It didn't even have his outline anymore. It was clearly Midna's—and were shadows even supposed to exist in the dark?

“Just keep walking to the east,” Midna said, yawning hugely. Apparently her attitude was undaunted by his stomping. “You'll reach it before long—it's called Kakariko Village. Can you read?”

“Of course I can read.”

Her red eye opened, and Link could see it plainly in the ground. But in a flash, the red eye closed and disappeared again. “Of course you can. So just read the road signs—it shouldn't be a problem. Wake me up when you get there.”

Link gritted his teeth. He had been to Kakariko Village once before, so he knew pretty much where it was. It wasn't too far of a walk there.

It was just the principle of the whole thing.

He tried to stick to the paths, which were weathered into the ground from years of heavy use. The distant sky was bathed in a purple and gray. How wouldn't other people notice that?

It seemed unlikely that only the hero would be able to see it. Maybe the other Hylians were just that stupid—or maybe they were so consumed in their daily life that they just didn't care.

There definitely were a few signs along the path, but they went beyond the Hylian characters Link knew how to read. Or maybe he was too tired to understand them—either way worked and either way meant he still couldn't read them.

He wished he had his horse. She had probably been scared off when the Shadow Beasts came to take him and the others away. He hoped she was okay.

Link curved around the trail, staring up at Death Mountain looming in the distance.

And he walked directly into a huge, black door. The center of it was marked with a purple diamond—the same as the design that now littered his forehead. The first time he had passed through that door, the Shadow Beasts had pulled him through, their long, slimy fingers gripping his skin.

They had laughed when he became a beast. The memory chilled him to the very core. Their gnarled faces were devoid of any familiar feature or emotion. And the way they had touched him—tugging at his fur and beating him until he passed out—made him shudder.

They had beat him until he was confused and destroyed and absolutely lost to the world. They made him feel the lowest he ever had in his life.

But the memories were already hazy. When he was a wolf, everything was a little twisted. But he could still clearly remember tearing apart the shadow creatures, relishing the taste of their flesh and the blood spilling down his middle. He could remember Midna on his back, slapping his sides and leading him on.

And now he was facing the door again—his personal entrance to the Twilight Realm. Whatever happened this time, he hoped it wouldn't be so bad.

But it was all for the children, wasn't it? They had to be enough for this. This world—it had to be enough.

Midna yawned, stretching as she rose to greet him. “How lovely,” she remarked. “I love waking just as the sun is beginning to rise.”

“Am I really going to become a wolf again?”

“Of course you are.” Midna gave him a cheeky grin, her pointed teeth blindingly white against her shadowy skin. “Isn't it exciting? You know, I was beginning to hope you would grow to love the Twilight as much as I do.”

Link shivered, but not because he was cold.

Midna walked through the door leading into the Twilight easily. She reached out a large, orange hand. It wrapped around Link's middle, pulling him through.

And Link couldn't help but scream as all memories of the Light Realm began to feel like a dream.

Chapter Text

For a moment, Link remained standing. But then his bones shifted and his spirit caught up with him. He fell to his knees, suddenly unable to stand. His skin rippled and his spine curved.

And Midna—she watched him steadily.

Link wished she would look away.

The transformation didn't take as long this time, but it was just as painful. He closed his eyes when it was finished, wishing Midna would just think he was dead and leave him alone.

But, as always, he had no such luck.

Midna immediately hopped on his back, tugging on his ears until he got to this feet. Link retracted his statement from earlier. It was even more tiring to walk on all fours; everything was more tiring as a wolf.

“Does it hurt terribly to transform?” Midna asked.

Link ignored her, stepping further into the village. The dust was making his eyes water and making it even harder to see. Most of the houses were boarded up, empty of any human life whatsoever.

Overall, Kakariko Village was pretty desolate. Almost the complete opposite of what he had left behind.

Midna yawned a lot, stretching and complaining about how tired she was. Link hated her. He was the one who should be complaining—he hadn't slept in days.

There was no true sun in the Twilight. Just a hazy, milky thing that shone through the purple sheen that served as the sky. Every step Link took echoed; all of the sounds felt magnified, and Link didn't think that was just the result of being a wolf.

“The spring is up ahead,” Midna said unnecessarily, because Link could obviously see it. “Eldin of Power. He was chosen by the goddess Din to look over this part of Hyrule; seems as though he didn't do a very good job.”

They passed more boarded up homes. There was nobody out and about. Link could remember Midna saying that the Hylians had no idea that the light had been stolen from them—so they must have been scared of something else to be hiding on a perfectly good day.

Link wondered what it was.

It felt weird to walk through this village as a wolf, and seeing it this way hurt his heart. Once upon a time, it was a happy and bustling village. But maybe that had only been his childish view of the world; maybe the village had always been this way—ugly and in ruins.

Link stepped into the spring, letting the shallow water ease the sting of his wounds. A great cloud of light appeared, approaching him swiftly.

“We meet again, hero,” Eldin said, voice mighty and magnificent. Link instantly felt a dislike for him, even greater than the dislike he had felt for Faron.

“You can save your speech,” Midna said, examining her nails. “We already heard it from the other one.”

Eldin didn't say anything. In fact, the cloud receded entirely from view. The vessel appeared out of nowhere, settling in Midna's lap.

“Well, then,” she said, a little more subdued than before. “Time to save this village from the Twilight.”

Link didn't feel like killing anything else. He wanted to curl up and sleep. And he was so hungry that he thought he might just die right then and there and Midna would have to live the rest of her life knowing it was all her fault the hero was dead.

But, as always, Link had no such luck.

“Oh, look, there's a guy peering out of that window.” Midna laughed wickedly. “He looks scared!”

Link looked, and sure enough, a man was leaning out of a window with a blowtorch in his hand. But he didn't see Link or Midna; his eyes were simply scanning the horizon, looking out for anything menacing that could come near.

“How funny,” Midna continued. “I wonder what he's protecting.”

Link walked towards the man. Even though Midna didn't always say very nice things, he was pretty confident she wouldn't hurt anyone.

Midna began counting the grooves in the vessel. She leaned down, showing him her wrist. “Oh, look at that! Only five shadow creatures this time! Do you think they're in the house? Should we see?”

She didn't give him a chance to respond, twirling to the top of the house like she had in the sewers of Hyrule Castle. She beckoned towards him, grinning. She was definitely up to something—but Link was too tired to try to figure out what.

So he jumped, immediately falling through the thin boards covering the roof and down into the house below. Dust showered down on him, obscuring his view for a moment.

“What was that?” a man asked.

The dust settled. Sitting on a couch were the children, cowering against the man who had spoken. It was Renado, the shaman of the village. He looked older than the last time Link had seen him, lines painting his face.

Renado stood, stepping towards the center of the room. He examined the floor as if Link and Midna didn't exist.

So she had been telling the truth, then, when she said the average Hylian could not see them.

But the children—they were safe. Link let some of his stress dissolve. If they were alright, everything else would surely fall into place.

Midna tugged at his earrings. “Don't worry about the children,” she whispered, even though it wasn't necessary. “They're safe, okay? Let's find those creatures and get out of here.”

Link didn't need to be told twice. She tugged at his fur, urging him to jump out of a window. And Link complied, even though he heard the children scream as the glass shattered and it made his heart hurt all the more.

*

Eldin burst back into being, a great golden hawk. He regarded the hero calmly, before wrapping him in light and forcing him back into his Hylian form.

And Midna noticed that one of the hero's eyes didn't change back to blue. He looked lopsided now, panting and kneeling in the water. Midna took pity on him; maybe she really should let him sleep.

“Thank you, hero,” Eldin said. There was something off about him, something weird in the way he spoke. Only a moment later, he was gone, shimmering back into the air.

The hero curled in on himself. Midna longed to comfort him, longed to put away her facade of cruelty and let him know that everything wasn't so bad.

But the hero was soon on his feet, glaring at her, and any seeds of comfort disappeared along with it.

The marks on his face were vivid in the early morning light, now a light shade of purple. Slowly, his mismatched eye faded more to what you would call blue. His tunic was soaked, clinging to every inch of his skinny body.

Obviously underfed. If there was anything Midna hated about the Light Realm, it had to be the way people were treated.

Midna waited to see what he would do. But he didn't do anything, just stared at her. Maybe he was thinking about ways to be rid of her. But he wouldn't be the first who wanted her dead, and he surely wouldn't be the last.

“You told me it was better this way, without me speaking to the children,” he said eventually. He looked away from her, towards the spot where Eldin had only been moments ago. “Do you still believe that's true?”

Midna settled on his shoulder, even though she knew she would be unwanted. Sure enough, he flinched away, but she held on, digging her nails into his skin. “Of course it's better,” she said. “Look at yourself—to be the hero, you will go through terrible things, even worse than what you already have. It will only worry them unnecessarily. Haven't you realized this by now?”

The hero nodded. His eyelids were drooping. Midna would have to get him someplace to rest—and it would have to before the people of this village noticed the shadow creatures were gone and noticed him standing there, half feral and barely lucid.

“We need to get out of here,” Midna said, echoing her thoughts. “As soon as we get out of this village, you can sleep.”

Just as she said this, the door to the house they had broken into opened and a man stepped outside. His face was long and his robes exquisite; Midna thought he might be the mayor of the village or something of the sort.

He looked at the hero as if he'd just seen a ghost.

The hero turned deathly white, and in seconds flat, he began to run. Even though the man called after him, his footsteps didn't cease. Midna hurried into his shadow, wondering what the hell was going on.

The hero didn't stop running until the man was far behind him. He doubled over, gasping for breath.

“What was that about?” Midna asked. She crossed her arms. “Do you know that man?”

The hero shrugged, giving her a weak smile. “I don't know. Maybe he would tell the children I was alive.”

Midna laughed. “You think I'm that foolish? You knew that man and you knew him well. Why can't you just admit it?”

The hero gave up the ruse of a smile, glaring at her. They were on some sort of mountain trail, near what seemed to be a very active volcano.

“Maybe you should go talk to him?” Midna suggested. “At the very least, he'll give you a place to sleep.”

“Whatever. The children are there. If they know I'm alive, they'll only worry about me.”

Midna patted the hero on the cheek affectionately. She didn't mean to do it, but she did. His eyes fluttered shut at the gesture. “Well, you can't exactly sleep here, now can you?”

The hero opened his eyes. They were very blue. No eyes in the Twilight Realm were like that. “I've slept in worst places,” he whispered.

Midna wasn't usually so gullible, but she believed him. Maybe it was the candid way he said it. Or maybe it was because she wanted to believe the best of him.

How could she ever depend on a liar to save the world?

“Nevertheless, I don't think this is any place to sleep, wolf boy,” Midna said, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “Maybe we should go back and talk to the guy, maybe see what he wanted.”

“You just talk in circles and circles,” the hero complained, laying down on the ground. He closed his eyes, and Midna knew he was already asleep.

Or at least, pretending to be.

She marveled at him for a moment. The air was hot, but she shivered.

She wanted to know everything about the hero. Everything that he didn't want other people to know.

Chapter Text

Link woke up with a pulsing headache, his wrists and ankles bound with rope. He blinked away tears while his mouth was also gagged by a pair of large hands. They were the hands of a Goron, rock solid and rough against his cheeks.

When Link tried to resist, the Goron punched him so hard he was sure he'd have black eyes. Stars danced across his vision, and any further resistance proved to be futile.

Midna was above him, flitting to and fro. She couldn't do much as a shadow, staring down at him sadly.

The Goron picked him up and hoisted him over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. They were quickly scaling Death Mountain, and Link was soon entertaining thoughts of being thrown into its fiery depths.

But Gorons had always been friendly creatures before. And it wasn't like Link was some criminal. He had done bad things, but had never done anything to Gorons.

None of this made sense.

“It'll be okay,” Midna hissed. “I'll get you out of here. I promise!”

The Goron wrenched Link off his shoulder and threw him to the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs and making his head crack painfully against the ground. “Did you just cast a spell?” he asked, listening closely to the night. When Link just blinked up at him, he began dragging Link by the feet.

Midna didn't speak again. She disappeared, which Link didn't really mind. Maybe she realized the situation was hopeless and abandoned Link altogether. At least she wouldn't be around to talk his ear off anymore.

And she should have woken him up anyway! Surely she'd noticed the Goron swiftly approaching and clubbing him in the back of the head.

Eventually, the Goron dragged Link to some sort of hot spring. Link was sure he would drown, the scalding water filling his nose and making him sputter fruitlessly around the gag. But the Goron was quick to lift him up and out of the water, holding him upside down for other Gorons to see.

“I found this boy on the trail,” he said. “Look at the markings on his forehead—they're the same that plague Darbus.”

The other Gorons—who all looked quite old—came to inspect him. One of them ran his rough hands over Link's face, making him shiver. It wasn't so much he was frightened—just annoyed. And even more tired than he was earlier. If it wasn't for the headache that felt like a hammer repeatedly hitting his skull, he probably would be sleeping despite the situation he was in.

“Was it necessary to tie him up?” one of the Goron elders asked. He was slouched over, covered in markings of his own. Link could tell he was an elder by his weathered skin—the longest Gorons lived, the thinner they became.

“I assure you it was necessary, Gor Liggs,” the Goron said, shaking Link up and down for effect. All of the blood was rushing to his head, making him feel woozy. And his legs were numb. Honestly, Link couldn't save himself even if he tried.

“Perhaps we should let him speak and tell us how he came to have those markings.” Another Goron stepped forward, ripping the gag out of Link's mouth roughly. “I am Gor Ebizo. What brings you to Death Mountain?”

Link didn't speak, earning a mighty scowl from Gor Ebizo. He slapped Link across the face. Hard. Burning tears sprang to his eyes, dripping down his forehead and into the hot spring water below.

“If you do not answer me, Hylian, I will not hesitate to kill you. Tell me who are you and why you are here.”

“I am the hero,” Link said, wishing his voice wasn't so small. “I just needed a place to sleep.”

The Goron holding him up let him go. Link fell headfirst into the spring. The water filled his mouth and nose, burning them, but when he tried to get up, the Goron had his foot pressed to his chest.

It didn't take long for white to flood his vision and for Link's entire body to go more numb than it already was. But as soon as Link gave up the struggle, sure he would drown, the foot let up and one of the Gorons pulled him out of the water by the hair—but whichever one it was, he couldn't be sure. Link coughed and sputtered, going in and out of consciousness.

The world seemed hazy. Link didn't know what hurt more; being tired or his battered body.

Or maybe it was the steaming hot water scorching his lungs.

“Tell us the truth,” the Goron hissed. “We will not tolerate a liar.”

“Why would I lie?” Link whispered, struggling to say anything at all. He felt so detached to the point he could barely feel anything anymore. “You have my life in your hands. I'd be stupid to lie.”

“We need proof,” Gor Ebizo said mercilessly. “Give us a display of your magic.”

The area lit up by its own accord. Link knew it must be Midna's work. The sky turned purple, and it began to storm. It was the coldest rain Link had ever felt in his life.

But the rain didn't last very long; just long enough to be noticed. The hot spring didn't feel so hot anymore, just warm. Gor Ebizo let go of him, and Link fought to stay sitting up.

Gor Ebizo bowed down to him. The other Gorons did the same. If Gorons had the ability to cry tears, they probably would be. They wailed instead, the mournful sounds echoing throughout the spring and making Link's headache even worse.

“I would like to express our sincerest apologies, hero,” Gor Liggs said, crawling forward. He unbound Link's ankles and wrists, holding him up with a gentle hand on his back. “Things have been hard lately. Our leader has changed—has become a beast—and we have been searching for the cause.”

But Link was barely listening. His entire body went limp, his eyes rolling back. The Gorons cried in despair, but Link was already blacking out.

Maybe he would finally get some rest.

Chapter Text

“Ouch.”

Midna patted some medicine on the cuts around his black eyes and nose. She had a gentle touch, but Link wasn't about to tell her that.

“It hurts!” he whined.

“Stop being such a baby,” she murmured. “I would take you down to Eldin's spring to heal, but the Gorons are kinda keeping you captive, so…”

Link resigned himself to the sting of the medicine Midna had stolen. While the Gorons didn't exactly lock him up in an actual prison cell, they didn't exactly have the comforts a human required, either. The entire room was made of rough stone, completely uncomfortable, and the only food they had to offer him was rocks.

They also blocked the exit with a gigantic boulder, which even Midna admitted was too heavy for her to move.

Link's entire body was covered in bruises, too, and Midna said he had a hand-shaped one on his cheek. She wasn't laughing for once, which was nice. Maybe she had been a little shaken when she thought the hero was going to be beat to death by Gorons before the destiny of the land was fulfilled. Or whatever it was the hero was supposed to do.

“Is the symbol on my forehead the Twilight crest or something?” he asked, just to make conversation. He wasn't tired anymore. According to Midna, he slept like a dead man for a day and a half.

“Maybe,” Midna replied. She stopped putting medicine on his face, turning to his hands. She flipped them over and almost winced at the sorry state of his palms, but she was quick to stifle it. Nevertheless, the slight movement hadn't escaped Link's notice.

At least she cared.

“Well, the Twilight Realm knew about the hero,” Link argued. “So things can't be that different from how things work here. Is it the royal crest of the Twilight Realm or not?”

Midna nodded, brushing his hair away from his forehead so she could inspect the mark. “Yes. Once upon a time, our people wore that mark proudly. Similar to how the Hylians carry around the Triforce like it means something.”

“Doesn't it?”

“Of course it does,” Midna scoffed. She twirled away from him. It was strange how she could still be so strong as a shadow. How much power was simmering there, just beneath the surface of her skin? “The first hero wielded it. The common people believed he had banished evil for good, but he knew better. That's why you exist.”

She turned back to his hands, dousing the wounds with medicine and wrapping them in thick, white bandages. The fear of infection stifled further conversation—Link wasn't stupid. He knew the cuts should have looked better by now.

Darkness pressed in on from all sides; the heat was stifling. The Gorons wouldn't let him leave before he saved Darbus, who was some tribe leader or something.

Which Link had no idea how he was going to do that with only a sword and a shield—not to mention with bruises covering every inch of his body. But the Gorons seemed to think he was super human. With battered, bloody hands and a battered, bruised body he was supposed to save everyone from evil.

Well, all he can say is they put a lot more faith in the hero than he puts into himself.

Gor Liggs pushed aside the boulder that had been keeping Link trapped like it weighed nothing at all. Midna went into Link's shadow to offer the illusion of privacy, but it was comforting to know she was there.

“How are you feeling today, hero?”

Link shrugged. He saw the familiar anger burst into Gor Ligg's eyes for a moment, and Link braced himself for the oncoming slap.

It never came.

Gor Liggs laughed, as if it was hilarious Link showed a sign of weakness. He thumped Link on the back, hitting all of the bruises that already decorated it.

“Darbus is in our mines,” Gor Liggs said. “Many among us are still doubtful you're the hero.”

Link almost laughed himself. “Why is that?”

“They hear you talking to yourself. Whenever they peer inside to check if you have company, you're alone. So you're either crazy or casting spells. Which is it?”

Link didn't respond. Gor Liggs wasn't nearly as amused this time.

“Alright. Listen, hero. Gorons are not your enemies. We're your friends.”

“Really? Tell that to my bruises.”

Gor Liggs stared him down, waiting for him to flinch. But Link wasn't about to do that twice.

Finally, it was Gor Liggs who backed down. He sighed. “So be it. For your own sake, I hope you are the hero. Are you prepared to enter the Goron Mines and resign yourself to fate?”

“Can't I have a few days to rest?”

“Darbus can't, so neither can you.” Gor Liggs gripped Link's arms, wrenching him away from where he sat. “I'm sorry it has to be this way.”

Link was escorted down the mountain, towards some sort of room that the Gorons had meetings in. The room was fit to bursting with Gorons, and Link immediately felt claustrophobic.

The Goron who had done most of the beating looked at Link apologetically, but Link remained glaring.

If there was anything Link had learned throughout his years of life, it was that he should never back down. Not from anything.

Even his own mind.

Gor Ebizo gave Link back his sword and shield—which he had confiscated before locking him away—bowing slightly. Then the sea of Gorons parted, revealing a rickety elevator.

“Why should I save Darbus?” Link asked. He wanted to look tough, but he mostly just wanted to lay down and sleep off all this pain. “Give me one good reason.”

Gor Coron stepped forward. Link would recognize him anywhere. Instantly, his insides felt swallowed whole, like the floor would give out and consume him.

“If you help us, I won't tell Renado of your return to Kakariko Village.”

Link braced himself for the other Gorons to react. But they hadn't. Maybe the truth of what Link had done hadn't spread beyond Gor Coron—

Or maybe they knew and just didn't care.

But Link did. He cared very much.

Link stepped onto the elevator without another word. He never took his blackened eyes off of Gor Coron. The elevator went down, but Link didn't broke his gaze until the wall rose up to block him from view.

Midna settled on his shoulder. He was beginning to get used to that. And maybe he felt a little softer towards her because she'd nursed his wounds.

Link wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything right now. Only that when he spoke to Renado, it would be on his own terms. Not anybody else's.

“What was that about?” she asked. “What did you do to Renado?”

Link stared at the crumbling wall as the elevator slowly crept down. Midna sighed, disappearing back into his shadow.

The elevator eventually stopped, opening up into a very hot, very large mine. Link unbuttoned his tunic, rolling it down so the heat wouldn't be so extreme on his skin.

Midna floated around him, side-eying his bruises. Link had the feeling she would enjoyed the sight of him half-naked more had it not been for that.

“We need to get you some chain mail,” Midna said. “You're too exposed. Put your tunic back on.”

Link drew his sword, stomping away from her. There was nothing too menacing in the mines, just some Keese that were easily destroyed with a few hits of his sword.

When the Keese fell to the ground, curling up and dissipating into black smoke, Midna began to laugh. “You've been taught swords by a master, haven't you? There's no way you've taught yourself.”

“I'm a little rusty,” Link admitted. Sweat was already rolling down his face. He wanted to get out of here, and he wanted to fast. “Where do you think Darbus is?”

“Where the Fused Shadow is, of course.” Midna grinned. “That's what I've been looking for, don't you know?”

Link didn't reply. A red Bokoblin sprang up behind him, lunging towards him. Link rolled out of the way, hitting it with his sword. It erupted into the thick, black smoke Link always hated. He'd killed plenty of monsters in his lifetime—there were a thousand other things he wanted to do than this.

“If you know where the Fused Shadow is, take me there,” Link said. “And for the next phase of this journey, I would like to go somewhere cold.”

More Bokoblins surrounded them. But if Link knew anything about them, they were stupid and normally had sex on their minds. Link cut them all down easily, his sword bouncing off their flesh like he was a hitting a wall, until they were all just smoke, disappearing in the thick heat of the mines.

“Why are you helping me?” Midna asked. “We found the children.”

“Do I look like I have a choice?” Link scowled. “If the Gorons hadn't forced me down here, I would be somewhere else. And as previously stated, preferably somewhere cold.”

“That's not true.” Midna got in his face, touching her nose to his. Link's eyes crossed, and he stepped away a beat too late. “You're the hero. If you wanted to leave, you would. What are a few Gorons in the path of someone like you?”

Link spun away from her, stomping across a bridge that singed the bottom of his boots. Lava bubbled beneath him, so far down it looked less menacing than it truly was. “You know nothing about me,” he said. “Stop acting like you do.”

“I know you're not telling me the truth.” Midna stopped him in his tracks. The bridge swayed with the abruptness, almost knocking Link down and into the lava. He gripped at the metal rope to steady himself, hissing when it burned his wounded hands through the bandages.

“What am I lying to you about?” he asked. His stomach felt so empty, he realized. When was the last time he had eaten?

It was an egg before being stolen from Ordon. That was all. Just a lonely egg.

Midna didn't answer him so he resumed his descent across the bridge. A familiar door with a Triforce symbol shone before him. He pressed his palm to it, and it disappeared.

Link struggled to stay upright. It must have been hunger catching up to him. Or the heat. But he didn't feel like he would make it much longer—not like this.

Midna sped ahead of him to pick up the gray stone in the center of the room, smiling. It disappeared the same as the first one, into whatever void Midna collected items she didn't want others to see.

Link fell to his knees, sword clattering against the ground. Pulses jumped up and down his body like electricity, making him feel close to screaming.

“What's wrong?”

A huge Goron rose up behind her, its teeth shiny in the darkness. The marks on his body were those of the Twilight, diamond patterns sprinkling down his huge arms.

It was the largest Goron Link had ever seen. But he had trouble looking at it. The pulses rocked him, and his forehead burst with pain.

“The marks are glowing,” Midna whispered. She looked at the Goron, then to Link, in a wild panic. “Snap out of it! If you don't, your spirit will be broken!”

Link forced himself to his feet, picking up his sword. It was heavy in his hand. The Goron—Darbus—grinned down at him, then threw his fist at the ground.

It shook with the movement, similar to an earthquake, knocking Link off his feet and making him hit the ground all over again. The bursts of pain were relentless, and he could barely move his limbs properly. Midna was right—if he didn't start moving, his spirit would break and he'd be done for.

Link wasn't sure how a sword would take down a massive Goron. He tried to remember anything useful he might have learned. But he couldn't think of anything but the pounding in his skull and the burn the mark made as it crept across his forehead.

Midna opened up the sky—the same magic she had used before—making a cold rain that shouldn't exist in a sweltering mine that was miles underground. The Goron groaned, the marks on his body fading along with the rain.

“Here's your chance!” Midna said. “Use your sword and skewer the diamond on his forehead. That's his weak point!”

Link stumbled to his feet, running towards the Goron with all of his strength. He jumped and forced the sword into the center of the diamond. Light spilled from the crevice the mark created, making the area glow.

The light faded. He had the feeling there was a man in the room, watching him. But when he looked, he wasn't there.

Link withdrew the sword. In the place of the massive Goron was an ordinary one who looked no worse for wear. He lay on the ground, passed out. But he was breathing softly, smiling in his sleep.

Link closed his eyes, ready to pass out himself. The rain faded, and Midna sat on his shoulder. For once, he didn't fee the urge to push her away.

“Good job,” she said, tugging on his earring. “You saved someone's life.”

Chapter Text

“I don't remember anything,” Darbus said. He grinned ear to ear. “Then I woke up and had this scary kid to look at! Do you guys know what happened to his face?”

Link sidestepped away from the oncoming pat on the back. The Gorons all seemed back to their normal, cheerful selves. But Link was still cautious. One wrong move, and he would surely end up on the ground again, with a broken nose to go along with the two black eyes.

Then Renado stepped through the crowd, and Link realized he would take a hit any day over this.

He tried to hide behind a particularly tall Goron, but somebody pushed him, making him stumble directly into the path of Renado.

Link avoided looking at him, kneeling down in the dirt. He wished they could see Midna, who was gripping onto his back like a parasite. If they did, maybe everyone would run away in terror and leave him alone.

“I heard from Gor Coron that the hero has arrived at last.” Renado sighed. A murmur went through the crowd, and the lanterns flickered against the brown earth. “What are you afraid of, hero? I am the Shaman of Kakariko Village. Unlike the Gorons, I would never inflict harm upon you unnecessarily.”

Link looked up. Renado blanched when he saw the condition of his face, but made no other sign of care or recognition.

“This is surely the hero,” Renado informed the Gorons, adding a deep bow for effect. “And he must be a good one, for helping you all despite what you have done to him.”

Renado helped Link up with a steady hand, then wrapped his arm around Link's shoulders, swallowing him up in his robe. The other Goron Elders looked ashamed, but Gor Coron looked indignant.

The Gorons parted for them and soon they were back on the trail, away from the home of Gorons, and back towards Kakariko Village. Link stumbled along with Renado, having trouble keeping up with his long steps.

Link didn't understand how such kindness existed. But he should have known Renado would be this way. He had always been kind, kinder than Link had ever deserved.

Once the Gorons were too far away to see or hear anything, Renado drew away from Link, leaving him shivering—and shirtless—in the night air.

“I've worried about you a long time,” Renado said. “When you left, why didn't you tell me why?”

Link looked away from him, focusing on a tumbleweed further down the trail. He wanted a warm bed and something to eat. He didn't want to talk about this, not now and not ever.

“What's going on?” Midna hissed. “Isn't this the guy you ran away from earlier?”

Link wanted to tell her to shut up, but then he'd surely sound crazy. And if he wanted to sound like anything near Renado, it wasn't crazy.

“Tatl...” Renado began. Link braced himself. Midna dug her nails into his shoulder so hard he was sure she drew blood.

“That's not my name,” Link said. “Sorry, but I'm not who you think I am.”

Renado sighed. The lights of Kakariko Village looked cozy in the distance. Link wished he could go there and never leave. Out of all the places Link had lived, Kakariko was his favorite.

“You can't spend your entire life forgetting, Tatl,” Renado said gently. “I'll never forget what you did to us. But I'll forgive you.”

“I don't now what you're talking about.” Link rearranged his tunic, pulling it up over his arms. The fabric didn't do much against the cold, and he shivered regardless. “My name's Link and I'm from Castle Town.”

Midna flew from his shoulder. She put her hands on her hips. But Link couldn't explain anything to her now, so he did his best to ignore her.

Renado acted as though he had never spoken. “How long did you know you were the hero, Tatl?”

“Does it matter?” Link crossed his arms. They were fast approaching Renado's house, and Link knew what awaited him there. The children. And that would only complicate things further, especially if they heard Renado call him by a different name.

“Come inside for a hot meal and some rest,” Renado offered. “I'm sure Luda would love to catch up with you as well.”

“I need to leave,” Link said. “I have places to go.”

“We have some children from Ordon Village here. Aren't they worthy of your assistance?”

Link backed away. Midna was nowhere to be seen, but he was sure she'd catch up to him eventually. When Renado opened his mouth to speak again, Link began to run. He had run many times in his life, so what would be another?

Kakariko Village disappeared behind him. Hyrule Field loomed ahead, and his feet knew where he was heading before his mind caught up with them.

Castle Town. Maybe there, so close to Hyrule Castle, he'd feel a sense of what he was supposed to be doing right now.

“Stop running,” Midna said. She was always there. Didn't she have something better to do than hang around him? “You're in no condition for running like this. You should have bathed in the spring.”

Link stopped, but not because Midna told him to. Just watch him admit that.

“And have Renado catch me? No thanks.”

“You're ridiculous!” Midna was seething. The sun was beginning to rise, making her look almost transparent, like a ghost. “That man called you a fairy name, don't you know?”

“I heard it in a storybook,” Link admitted.

“Why would you give him a false name? And why did you say you were from Castle Town?”

“I told you the truth, Midna. I've never had a name. Don't you think it might be strange to admit that to every person you meet?” Link rubbed his sore eyes. Everything was a mess. Everything. And if Link knew anything about the hero's journey, it was that he still had a long way to go until it was over.

Midna softened, somewhat. She flitted over to him, touching his forehead. “You're feverish, exhausted, and worn down. You need to sleep somewhere you feel safe.”

“And where would that be?”

“I don't know.” Midna looked around her, but everything was just an empty field. “But if you take one step further, I'm afraid you might die. Then how will I get the last Fused Shadow?”

“I'll be okay,” Link said. “Besides, I'm sure you could find the damn thing yourself if you tried.”

Midna sat down on his shoulder, dismissing his words with a toss of her head. “Castle Town is the closest place to rest, but it's covered in the Twilight. Are you willing to become a wolf again so soon?”

Link wasn't. In fact, the very thought made his empty stomach squirm with contents that didn't exist.

“I think we should go back to Eldin's spring,” Midna whispered. “We'll ask him for help. Maybe he can make you invisible or something so Renado doesn't see you.”

Link didn't feel like giving in. It felt too close to giving up. But what option did he have?

Somehow, someway, Link managed to get back to Kakariko Village. The walk felt long, much longer than it took to run, and the sun was high up in the sky by the time he entered Kakariko Village for the second time in a span of a few days.

But whatever happened next, he hoped he would never feel this weak and helpless. Not ever again.

Chapter Text

Link bathed in Eldin's spring for the rest of the day. Eldin himself never made an appearance, but he must have covered Link in some sort of protection. People bustled to and fro, never noticing they had Link in their midst.

The springs could never completely heal a person. They couldn't cure illnesses, but they could ebb away some of the exhaustion and pain a person feels. Which was lovely for Link—truly, truly lovely.

At some point, Midna stole him some chain mail from some unknown location. She wouldn't say where. She also got him a green tunic and stupid hat, the latter of which Link refused to wear.

She managed to get him some food. It wasn't much, just a fried fish and some nuts, but it was all Link had eaten in days. It was like a gourmet meal, finer than any Hyrule Castle had ever provided to its guests.

Once Link felt properly rested, he dressed in the clothing Midna had provided. The green didn't feel right to him, even though Midna insisted the first hero had worn the same color. But Link had no choice but to wear it—he couldn't exactly go to Castle Town naked, could he?

Well, he could. But Link wasn't going there for that kind of thing. (At least, he didn't think so.)

“Every time you become a wolf, your spirit will grow more confused,” Midna said. She was touching the markings on his forehead again; he wished she didn't. The touch reminded him the marking was there. “Have you noticed any changes in your mind or body?”

Link ignored her. He had noticed changes. Especially in his hearing—it seemed he could pick up more sounds than usual. And his legs hurt terribly lately, like they were used to being bowed and not holding him up by their weight alone anymore.

But Link didn't feel like telling her those things. So, with a quick glance around Kakariko Village, he began to run away from it again. A few people noticed him, calling out, but Link wasn't about to stop for anyone.

And that was when he remembered.

Ilia wasn't there with the children. Was she? He stopped at the gate, feeling the urge to run back to make sure she was actually there and he wasn't losing his mind.

The wolf memories were soft and hazy, lacking anything substantial. He remembered seeing the children, ticking them off in his mind, but he couldn't remember Ilia.

“What's wrong?” Midna asked. It seemed like she was always asking him that. And when Link thought about it, everyone he'd ever known intimately had asked him that at least once.

“Nothing,” Link said.

“If it's about that Renado guy, I still think you should go talk to him…”

“It wasn't about him,” Link snapped. He passed through the gate, out towards Hyrule Field. There were Bokoblins nearby—Link drew his sword, sighing at the idea of more fighting.

“So you admit something was wrong?” Midna hummed, twirling around him to the point he felt dizzy. “I wonder what it was.”

“Is the next Fused Shadow in Castle Town?” Link asked. A Bokoblin noticed him and ran at him, but Link pierced his sword through its gut in a flash. It disappeared, squealing its way into oblivion.

“No, but the Twilight is there, so it's definitely a good place to start.” Midna rolled her eyes. “And besides, we still have that girl to look for.”

Link couldn't help but feel surprised. “You noticed?”

“Of course I did. Isn't she your girlfriend or something?” Midna reclined in the air, acting like she was sunbathing. Which was so foolish Link began to laugh.

“Of course Ilia isn't my girlfriend,” he said.

Midna yawned. “Why not?”

More Bokoblins ran up, which Midna easily evaded and Link easily destroyed. If the Bokoblins were anything to go by, this was going to be a tedious walk.

“Why not?” Midna repeated.

“Why would she want to date me?”

“Don't be self-depreciative.” Midna winked at him. “Surely you know how attractive you are.”

Link blushed furiously. He hoped his bruises hid it, but he was beginning to realize few things escaped Midna's notice. “I just… I've never wanted a girlfriend. Relationships don't appeal to me.”

Midna touched his forehead yet again. All Link could see was her transparent body, the gray sheen that washed over everything like a ghost. “I was engaged once,” she said. “It didn't end well.”

Link couldn't imagine Midna loving anyone enough to be engaged. He moved to brush her away, but she was already gone, sitting on top of his head. She tugged on his ears so hard tears sprang to his eyes.

“When did you get your ears pierced?”

“I didn't.”

Midna tugged again. Bokoblins swarmed him, and he took them all down quickly, despite the fact he had a Twili girl sitting on his head. Castle Town was in the distance—the walls of the city a very bright white. The drawbridge was up, so Link would have to get in by some other method. Ever since the king had died, the city had been on high alert.

As Link walked closer, the familiar black door loomed before him. His breathing went ragged, fear blooming in his chest. Midna stopped tugging, bringing herself so she floated directly in front of him.

“Are you ready?” she asked. “I have a feeling you're going to be a wolf much longer this time.”

The atmosphere grew dark. Everything was in shadows—Link's mind, his everything. The walls of Castle Town no longer seemed so friendly.

“What if I get stuck as a wolf?” Link asked, voice trembling. “What do we do then?”

Midna laughed. For the first time, the laugh wasn't loud or cruel. It was soft, filling Link with some sort of promise. “I would never let that happen, wolf boy. I intend to keep you safe.”

Link still wasn't sure. But he didn't want to seem any weaker than he already did; so he set forth, nodding curtly.

Midna went through the black door, reached out the orange hand, and pulled him through.

It was like passing a curtain of extreme cold. She set him down on the other side, more gently than he expected. The drawbridge leading to Castle Town was still raised—the purple of the Twilight filled the sky.

Midna watched him as always. His legs gave out first. He slammed against the ground. This transformation was worse than the other two. Maybe Midna was right—the more he was transformed, the less humanity would remain.

He clawed feebly at the ground as his body morphed. He panted, going into some sort of trance until the whole thing was finished.

Midna allowed him a little longer to rest this time before hopping on his back. She patted his sides, not harshly, but as some form of reassurance.

“You'll be alright,” she promised. “Have I failed you yet?”

Link considered. No, she hadn't failed him. She had met all of his expectations—which were rather low, now that he considered it. But still.

It was strange how Midna was beginning to feel less like the enemy and more like a companion. She wasn't a thorn in his side anymore—she was someone he could trust.

Chapter Text

Midna guided the hero into Castle Town. She somehow helped him through one of the waterways, which miraculously emptied into somebody's laundry pool. The city was heavily guarded, all of its gates closed, and royal knights were posted everywhere. Midna was happy to know that she and the hero couldn't be seen—if they were, their stay in Castle Town would surely be cut short by a well-meaning knight or civilian.

The majority of the citizens wore black. It reminded Midna of when her own father had passed away. The entire Twilight Realm went into deep mourning, cloaking themselves in the darkest purple they could find.

She had respect for this king. Whoever he was, he was dearly loved—and in any king, that was a very welcome trait.

The hero walked through the city with familiar steps. Even though Midna didn't want to think him a liar, she couldn't think of him as anything else. It was easy of her to think that he was a native of Castle Town due to the paths he was taking. They were unusual shortcuts, through alleyways and worn down streets.

She wasn't sure where he was going. She hadn't given him any direction, and the third dragon—Lanayru—was quite far off.

In any event, the hero's progress was cut short by a body in the middle of the road. Like the bodies of the other Light Dwellers, his soul stood most prominent. His body surrounding the blue flame of his soul was hazy and transparent; but it was most definitely that of a Zora.

The city was already dark due to the Twilight, so Midna couldn't be completely positive whether or not the boy was dead. He was lying in a dark alley, behind some shabby homes; for all she knew ,he could have been there for hours.

It seemed like the work of Shadow Beasts. That was probably what they did to that girl—the one the hero seemed so concerned about. The one he deemed himself unfit to be with.

The hero sniffed the Zora's body, his muzzle brushing against his torn clothing and leather pouches.

But then—the Zora opened his eyes, acknowledging the unfamiliar touch with a look as cold as the region he came from.

He couldn't exactly see the hero, but he could certainly feel him—maybe even hear him. Midna tensed when the Zora closed his eyes again, his mouth falling slack. There were no obvious wounds, but the Zora was obviously weakened from whatever had happened to him.

The hero looked at her for help, craning his head around. Midna sighed.

“What do you expect me to do? Carry him to a doctor?”

The hero didn't break his gaze, which led Midna to believe the hero wanted her to do just that.

The Zora moaned, opening his eyes again. And Midna couldn't exactly leave him there; he was too young and too innocent to leave to the hands of fate.

She flounced off the hero's back. The Zora was easily four times the size of her—but she could lift him easily. It was really no problem, especially in a land consumed by Twilight.

She wrapped him in a forcefield, lifting him up into the air with her mind alone. The hero watched, fascinated, as Midna set the Zora's limp body on his back.

The Zora weighed the hero down, but he could still walk decently enough. Midna wouldn't have done it otherwise. But what did he expect? Midna to carry the Zora the entire time? That would only leave her mentally exhausted.

The hero padded forward, and Midna floated beside him. She did like sitting on his back better—it required much less effort. (This time, the physical kind of effort.)

They came into view of the main plaza of Castle Town, which was marked with a huge fountain. Statues of the three goddesses lined the smooth, white marble. Hylia stood proudly in the center, holding a harp. People and vendors crowded around it; Castle Town was a busy city, which Midna expected—but she hadn't expected it to be so busy with the recent and unusual death of their king.

Midna beckoned the hero forward, laughing when the crowd parted and people screamed at the sight of a Zora seemingly floating through the air. It was made more hilarious by the fact the royal knights didn't do anything—they just watched, horrified, with their spears pointed out.

So much for protecting the city. They couldn't even manage to take down and contain a floating child.

The hero knew the way to a doctor. He found his way there in a matter of minutes, sure with each and every slow, sluggish step. He knelt, letting the Zora's body slide down onto the stoop in front of the doctor's door.

The hero slammed his head against the door until it opened, revealing a short, squat man with a white beard.

The hero looked away, apparently believing his business to be done. Midna watched until the Zora was taken inside, held kindly in the arms of the doctor; she hoped he would be okay.

The hero nipped at her feet. “What do you want now?”

He blinked up at her. But Midna couldn't read minds, so she had no idea what he wanted. Not at all.

“What do you want, wolf boy? Don't just look at me like that!” Midna scowled in distaste, hopping on his back. He acted like she weighed even more than the Zora, howling pitifully.

Goodness, how Midna wished she could speak wolf. It would make all of this so much easier. The hero began to walk forward, creeping around the edge of the fountain. The people were already talking about the Zora, making up wild stories and conspiracy theories about him.

They were all so clueless to what was going on. Midna realized that was a little sad. And if the hero wasn't the hero, he would be among them. Or maybe he would be dead, just like the Zora boy might be.

Or maybe he would be more alive than he ever was, knowing nothing about the world he lived in.

Chapter Text

The Great Bridge of Hylia would have been beautiful had it not been for the oppressive purple clouds above it. It was the type of bridge that was meant to be appreciated in the brightest sunlight, under the clearest blue sky.

Link padded onto the bridge, feeling something wet and slippery beneath his paws. It stung his wounds and smelled dank—maybe it was the lake water.

Or maybe it was something else.

Nevertheless, he wore on. He had been trying to tell Midna back in Castle Town that he knew the Zora—had knew him quite well, actually, from when he was younger. The Zora's name was Prince Ralis. He was another person Link needed to apologize to, another person he had wronged.

He hoped he would be okay.

“Wait.” Midna jumped in front of him, wrinkling her nose. “Do you smell that?”

Of course he did, but Link couldn't exact say so. A Bokoblin wandered into his view, far in the distance, and shot off an arrow engulfed in flames. And Link wasn't stupid—he should have realized something was wrong the moment he stepped onto the bridge.

The flame spread rapidly—mingling in the liquid at a terrible, hideous rate. Midna hopped onto his back, slapping him on the head. “Don't just sit there!” she screeched. “Do something!”

Link ran to the edge of the bridge, pawing up and over some sort of railing. It was a long drop below, so long Link wasn't entirely sure if he would make it. The water was stained purple, just like the rest of this world, and Link was afraid.

“Just do it,” Midna hissed. “At least this way, you have a shot at surviving.”

Link hesitated. The flames licked closer, the smell grew more intense. The heat did something to his mind—made him feel foggy and disoriented.

But he still knew Midna was right. If he jumped, he still had a chance at living—a chance at righting all of his wrongs.

Link swallowed down his fear, scrabbled over the side of the bridge, and jumped.

*

“Is he dead?” Midna asked. She was afraid to touch him; if she did and she didn't feel any warmth, her worst fears would be realized.

Lanayru laughed. It was remarkable for her to know that he could laugh despite everything. His realm had been compromised by the Twilight; he had been transformed into nothing more than a ball of light. But he still laughed, and that comforted Midna when nothing else would.

“Don't worry,” Lanayru said. “The hero will wake up momentarily.”

Sure enough, the hero awoke with a growl, jumping to his feet and shaking off the water from his trip down the waterfall with a firm shake of his head.

Midna had struggled to keep him from drowning the entire way, and the memory of her dragging his heavy, furry body over to Lanayru's spring wasn't exactly reassuring…

“Glad to see I was right,” Lanayru continued. “By now, I'm sure you two know what to do. There is only one realm still affected by the Twilight—my own. Can I say good work or is that condescending?”

“It's fine.” Midna patted the hero on his soaked head, overjoyed when she heard his usual snarl. “So where's the vessel for the light, Lanayru?”

“You don't need it.” Midna couldn't tell whether or not he was joking. He was still just a ball of light, after all. But she hoped he was joking. Because them not needing the vessel only meant one thing.

“It's been quite some fun keeping this thing company.” Lanayru laughed at his own joke. “I guess we didn't get along that well!”

The water splashed behind them, and Midna turned in horror to find a gigantic shadow creature. It resembled a huge spider, like the others, but it had about a thousand more legs.

“What do we do?” Midna swiveled back to Lanayru, but he was already gone, cackling away into nothing.

The hero didn't wait for an order. He latched himself onto the shadow creature, gnawing at it with his fangs. Midna urged herself to be strong—to release her power. But she had been using so much of it lately, and she was so tired.

She closed her eyes, feeling magic swell at her fingertips. She kept her eyes closed. She didn't want to see the hero hurt, consumed by this beast and destroyed.

She could hear the hero as he struggled to stay latched onto the creature's flesh, tearing his way through its layers of protection. With a screech, Midna unleashed all of the power she had.

It hit the shadow creature square in the stomach, a small beam of Twilight. The hero fell, hitting the waters of Lake Hylia with an angry slap.

The shadow creature screamed as it burst apart. A piece of light that matched its size filled the area, consuming it in light once again. Midna darted towards the hero, where he lay face down in the water.

She grabbed onto sections of his fur, groaning as she helped him onto solid ground for the second time in one day. He lay there, panting, as Lanayru returned.

Lanayru didn't try to joke about the situation, which was nice. He looked like a snake—Midna thought that rather suited his personality. She liked him at first—but he had left them to their own devices, left them at the mercy of evil when they needed him most.

Lanayru forced the hero to transform, just as all the other dragons had. Midna decided she should start calling them Light Spirits—which they now were, after all. Each of them were a magnificent shade of gold, and each reminded her of something she could never be a part of.

The hero shifted back into himself. Midna didn't watch. She had grown tired of it—it was no longer entertainment.

Not that it ever was.

“Thank you, hero,” Lanayru said. The hero looked at him, still on all fours. He panted—and Midna knew him enough to know he didn't want to talk to Lanayru right now. He wanted to be alone.

Lanayru must have been on the same wavelength, because he faded away. Just like all the others. Midna felt weakened from the whole experience—as more of the Twilight was removed from the Light Realm, the less hold she had of herself and her very existence.

“You were right,” the hero said. It was unexpected—his rough voice almost lost among the rippling of the lake.

“Right about what?” Midna floated over to him. His eyes were no longer blue, but green with specks of gold. The same as his wolf eyes—and his forehead was now marked with a deep purple, the same color as the marking Midna wore on her own forehead.

“I turned back into a Hylian.” The hero grinned, filling Midna's heart with something close to happiness. “You didn't let me down.”

Midna reached out to touch his marking. He closed his eyes at the touch. “Congratulations,” she said. “Our time together is almost over. Does that make you happy?”

The hero opened his newly green eyes. “I'm not sure,” he said. “Won't you accompany me to Ordon to make sure the Light Spirit there is okay? Nobody said you had to leave Hyrule, Midna.”

“They're called dragons,” Midna corrected him, then chided herself for doing so. She swept away from him, letting herself fade from view. “And that won't be necessary. Once I have the last piece of the Fused Shadow, this will all be over. Just as it should be.”

Chapter Text

Link wanted to tell Midna that it shouldn't have to be that way. That it isn't a requirement for relationships to end due to circumstance. But before he could say anything, a purple portal developed in the sky and three Shadow Beasts fell out of it.

They lumbered towards Link, each of them hunched over. Link drew his sword despite his impending terror, but Midna stopped him.

“Don't!” she said. She flitted over to them. They threw out their long, snake-like arms, intending to hurt her, but Midna moved out of the way in just the knick of time.

Link held his sword ready regardless, The memories of the Shadow Beasts touching him, their slimy fingers digging into his skin, were still fresh. He shuddered, earning a panicked look from Midna.

“You can't,” she said. “They're not truly beasts—they're the same as you, transformed against their will.”

“What do you mean, Midna?” Link's hands were shaking so badly he was sure he'd drop his sword. The Shadow Beasts never ran, just lumbered at a snail pace. Link backed up as far as he could go in the spring—any further and he'd fall back into the water.

“I need to think,” Midna said, shaking her head violently. “I need time to think!”

The Shadow Beats extended their hands, reaching out to touch Link's forehead with their long fingers. Link jolted, thrusting out his sword to attack, but one of Shadow Beasts deflected the weak hit easily.

They laughed, wrenching the sword out of his trembling hands like it was nothing. Link closed his eyes so hard he saw stars. Their fingers were cool against his forehead, brushing away his hair and prodding at the mark. Every touch left behind a thick trail of slime, making Link shudder uncontrollably.

After all of this, Midna was just going to let him die at the hands of Shadow Beasts? He was beginning to think of her as a comrade; but she had sided way too easily with the enemy.

“Open your eyes, Link,” Midna said softly. “They're not going to hurt you.”

Their touch withdrew from his skin. When they didn't kill him, Link opened his eyes.

The Shadow Beasts stared back at him, but they weren't moving. Midna floated down in front of Link, both of her hands on her hips. “They think you're royalty or something because of your forehead.”

Link was still shaking too hard to speak. The Shadow Beats were just standing there, staring at him through some sort of mask that covered their faces.

Midna sighed. She brought her hands together, wrapping the three Shadow Beasts into a forcefield. She lifted them up into the sky, making them disappear with a flick of her wrists.

“Where did you take them?” Link asked, tremors filling his voice. He bent down to retrieve his sword. It was covered in the same slime that was now oozing down his face and into his eyes.

“Home,” she said simply. “There really wasn't anything else to do.”

“What if they'd killed me, Midna?”

“Well, they didn't, so there's no use crying about it. You're no worse for wear.” Midna wrinkled her nose. “But you do need a bath…”

“You're insufferable.” Link dipped his sword into Lake Hylia. The slime trailed away into the water. Link felt sorry for the Zoras having to deal with it.

Midna narrowed her eyes. “Whatever. The third Fused Shadow is so close I can taste it. It's in Lakebed Temple. The Zoras have used it as a place of worship for centuries.”

Link laid his sword down beside him. It glistened in the dying sunlight. He then removed his chain mail and tunic, then slipped off his tights. He balled them up and shoved them into his boots. Midna pretended not to watch as he eased himself into the water, submerging his head for a few seconds so the slime would wash off his face.

Once he brought his head back up, he spoke. “Zoras live underwater, Midna. How do you expect me to get into their temple and breathe?”

“Don't say my name like that all the time!” Midna settled down beside his sword, crossing her arms. “We'll figure it out, wolf boy. Haven't we so far?”

Link wished he had a cake of soap. But Lake Hylia was making him feel clean enough for now. And what did it matter? He'd be dirty again in only a few hours. (At least, that's what his track record was proving for him.)

“Maybe Lanayru can help?” Link suggested. “He's the Light Spirit in charge of this realm, after all…”

“Not always, though. Faron would know more about this. She created the Zoras.”

Link scrubbed water through his hair. He caught Midna admiring him, which made him blush. But as soon as they made eye contact, she looked away. “If she made them, anyway,” he said. “Why isn't she in charge of this realm now?”

“Ordona was angered by Faron's treatment of the first hero. As punishment, she reduced Faron's land to only a fraction of what it once was. Lanayru received more because he saved the hero's life once…”

“Are you sure that's true?” Link side-eyed his boots and tunic, wishing they weren't so far away. It wasn't so bad getting into the water, but now the distance felt like a mile trek. Especially considering his body would be dripping wet the entire time.

And he didn't want anybody looking at him like that. Especially Midna. He hadn't been lying when he said romance was the farthest thing from his mind.

“I'm not sure,” Midna admitted. “But I was always sure about you. That ought to count for something, right?”

“Midna, can you do something for me?”

Midna blinked. “What?”

“Can you… close your eyes when I get out of the water?”

Midna faded from view. “Of course,” she said. “Sorry…”

Link scrambled out of the water and over to his clothes as fast as he could. He didn't have anything to dry himself off with, but he dressed himself anyway. The chain mail felt sticky against his wet skin, and the tunic clung to him uncomfortably.

“Can I look again?” Midna asked. She reappeared, her small hands covering her eyes.

Link ran his hand through his wet hair. “Yeah, it's alright now.”

“I would have a Zora get the last Fused Shadow for me, but that probably wouldn't end well.” Midna grinned, and Link appreciated how she was acting like the awkward moment between them had never happened. “You know, it wouldn't end well for the Zora. Maybe that one we found in Castle Town could be of use.”

“His name is Prince Ralis,” Link said. “He will someday be King of the Zoras.”

Midna whistled low. “Really? Then I suppose we can't use him. We don't want him to become like Darbus and pound you into the ground.”

Link winced at the memory. His body was still littered with bruises. Those would fade eventually, but he would always remember how he had been treated by those he considered friends.

“Prince Ralis's mother might help me,” Link said after awhile. “She might… remember me.”

“What false name did you give her?”

Link glared. He was tired of this conversation. “I suppose you'll find out when you meet her,” he said.

Midna sighed. “I'm inclined to agree with Renado. You can't run from your life. Where were you born? Because it wasn't Ordon Village. Nothing you can say will convince me of that.”

“Really?” Link said “Too bad, then, because I was born in Ordon Village.”

“I don't believe you.”

Link resisted rolling his eyes. “Can you just help me find a place to eat? I'm so hungry I could eat you.”

Midna swept into his shadow. “Be my guest, wolf boy. But then who would be around to bug you?”

Link walked along the edge of beach, up onto the bridge that led to the Zora River. There was a small hut close by, sitting so close to the water a simple wave would flood it. Canoes were parked outside, bobbing up and down in the river.

“What are you going to do?” Midna asked. “Just knock on their door and ask for food?”

Link hesitated. It surely looked like a business. There was a sign outside of it, but it was in common Hylian, which Link didn't know how to read.

But he didn't have to bother with knocking on the door and risking an awkward situation, because a woman walked out. Her name was Iza—she was only a few years older than Link, but now those years didn't feel like quite so much.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my… you look awful. You look familiar, too.” A Zora walked out and stood behind Iza, peeping around Iza's mass of curls. “Doesn't he look familiar, Ruta?”

Ruta ran right over to Link, swallowing him up in a hug. “Nohansen!” she cried. “You're alive!”

Link closed his eyes. Iza joined the hug as well. He could hear Midna mumble something, but it didn't really matter.

At least he had a place to eat.

The two women let go of him. Ruta kept brushing away tears. “You're a man now,” she said. “Where have you been all this time?”

Iza opened up the door again. “Please come in. We can catch up on everything. You really do look awful, Nohansen.”

Link followed behind them. There was a counter with a sign propped on it that displayed a crudely drawn picture of a canoe. But another door opened to reveal a nice, cozy living area in the back.

“Good thing you came along,” Ruta said. She kept looking at him like she couldn't believe her eyes. “Iza and I have been fighting, as always. The Zora River is all damned up, so there hasn't been much business here lately.”

Iza ushered Link to sit down at a kitchen table. She was cooking soup over a flame, and it smelled so good that Link was salivating in seconds.

Midna hopped onto his shoulder. “How do you know these people?” she asked.

“I'll explain later,” Link hissed, earning a strange look from Ruta.

“Where have you been all this time, Nohansen?” Iza asked. She stirred the soup, hand on her hip. “I thought you were dead.”

“I've been fine,” Link said. “I never realized I was dead.”

“Really?” Iza shared a look with Ruta. She then filled a wooden bowl full of vegetables soup, slapping it on the table in front of Link.

He promptly began scarfing it down. Ruta and Iza also began to eat. They didn't say anything, but were sharing more than a few looks between themselves.

After finishing, Link stood up to leave. But Ruta held him back.

“You can't leave now! You've just returned to us.”

“At least stay the night,” Iza said.

Midna seemed to agree with them, nodding vehemently. Her arms were crossed. “And tell them the truth,” she said.

“I guess I can stay,” Link said. Ruta clapped her hands together.

“Great! I'll get some blankets for you.” She ran off to do just that, disappearing into another room.

Iza took that opportunity to barrage Link with questions. “Sit down,” she ordered.

Link ignored her. “I don't go by Nohansen anymore,” he said, earning a look of approval from Midna.

Iza blinked. “You have accepted yourself as the hero, obviously. Does the hero get a special name?”

Midna scowled, the look of approval fading away.

“Forget it,” Link snapped. Ruta wandered back in.

“The spare bed is ready for you,” she said. “You look tired—why don't you get some sleep before you hit the road again?”

“Seems like a great idea.” Link walked after her, leaving Iza and Midna behind to brood.

Midna was quick to catch up, however, landing on Link's shoulder. “What's her deal?” she asked.

Link didn't have an answer. He'd never really known what Iza's deal was. It was Ruta that he'd always liked.

“I'm glad you've returned, divine forces or otherwise.” Ruta smoothed the covers over the bed, her long fins trailing the ground. “Have you heard? Prince Ralis has gone missing.”

“I've heard.” Link slipped off his boots, tiptoeing over the cold hardwood floor and to the bed. Midna was already lying on it, pretending she was relaxing or something.

“The queen is dead.” Ruta looked close to crying again, her purple eyes more watery than usual. “Have you heard that?”

Link felt a pain spread through him. The queen had always been very kind to him, and her people had absolutely adored her. “No,” he said. “I hadn't heard that.”

“I hope Prince Ralis is alive.” Ruta offered him a smile, however shaky. “But you're the hero, Nohansen. Surely you'll save Ralis before it's too late.”

“I'll do my best, Ruta. I promise.”

“I've always believed in you.” Ruta walked across the length of the room, her webbed feet squishing against the wood with every step. She paused in the doorway. “I remember when we were both young, and I remember when you died. Everyone else stopped believing, but I never did.”

“Thank you,” Link said. He felt his own tears coming, but he hadn't truly cried since he was twelve and he wasn't about to do it again.

Ruta closed the door behind her. Link turned to Midna, who was no longer pretending to be reveling in relaxation.

“You're such a mystery, wolf boy.” She floated up, looking away from him. “Who are you really?”

Link took off his chain mail, laying it down beside his boots. He made sure all of his items were safe and contained—he wanted to leave early the next morning. It would be easier than saying goodbye.

“Answer my question,” Midna demanded. “Who are you?”

“The hero.” Link crawled underneath the covers of the bed, closing his tired eyes. “That's all I've ever been.”

“So… you've always known it?” Midna settled down beside him. She was warm, her body so close that it lent something close to comfort.

Link gave up on sleeping, opening his eyes to glare at her. She looked concerned, the shadows covering her body not quite managing to cover up her frown. “Always,” he said. “Since I was a baby.”

“I'm sorry for you,” Midna whispered. “That must have been a true burden to carry.”

Link closed his eyes. “It's not a burden if you've always carried it. Just let me sleep, Midna. I'm tired.”

“Goodnight, wolf boy,” she said. “And I'm sorry—for everything I've done to hurt you.”

Link smiled despite himself. “Don't worry,” he said, already drifting off. “I've already forgiven you.”

Chapter Text

“Nohansen…”

Link jolted awake. The Queen of Zoras reached down to touch his face, her cold hand sending shivers down his spine.

“You must save my son,” she said. She was hazy and transparent, her beautiful fins trailing down behind her.

Link's heart stuttered in his chest. His mouth worked, but no words came out.

“Do not fear. But I cannot rest until Prince Ralis is safe.” She touched her necklace; the charm was a blue medallion. She pulled at the chain until it snapped.

Link could barely breathe as the queen touched him again, laying the medallion in his bandaged palms. The medallion was even colder than her touch, making his teeth chatter together.

“This medallion was used by the Hero of the Skies. It had been entrusted to the royal family of the Zoras.” The queen smiled sadly. She was fading away, slowly disappearing back to wherever she had come from. “Use it well… Only once my son is safe can I rest…”

Link blinked in the darkness for awhile, making sure no other ghost was waiting in line to visit him. Midna was still asleep—or at least, pretending to be—and snoring softly. So Link tried not to wake her as he crawled out from under the sheets.

He slipped the medallion into his right boot, almost hoping it wouldn't be there in the morning. If it wasn't, this late night visitation would have only been a dream.

Link crept back to bed, sliding in beside Midna. She squinted open her exposed eye.

“What's wrong?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” Link said. He stared deep into the darkness, trying to keep any thoughts of the ghost away. He had known the queen once, when she was alive, and seeing her that way was enough to give him nightmares for years.

Midna sighed. “You're lying. Why do you always lie?”

“I'll tell you in the morning,” Link hissed. He rolled over, wishing that sleep would take him. “And I've never lied to you, not once.”

“But you just did!” Midna screeched when Link didn't respond, pounding her fists against the mattress.”Whatever. I suppose none of the legends ever said the hero had to be a good one…”

*

“What do you think it is?” Link asked, rubbing the medallion between his thumb and index finger.

“Maybe it will help you swim. You know, like a Zora.”

Link slipped the medallion into the pocket of his tunic. He and Midna had sneaked out of Iza and Ruta's house in the early hours of the morning, before either of them would notice he was gone.

Now they were back in Castle Town, on the way to find Prince Ralis.

“The Queen of Zoras really gave that to you?” Midna rolled her eyes. “I guess you really are the hero, after all.”

Link swallowed down any reply. More than a few people had given him strange looks since arriving in Castle Town. Probably because he was seemingly talking to himself. But it wasn't his fault Midna was invisible. (But it was his fault he kept forgetting it.)

He approached the door to the clinic, knocking firmly on the chipped wood. Midna smiled wickedly.

“What's that smile supposed to mean?” Link asked, just as the door opened. The same, mustached doctor from before glared at him from behind a pair of thick glasses.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, sorry.” Link focused on taking deep breaths; he had to appear normal here. Just a normal boy with normal concerns. “I'm here to visit one of your patients. His name is Ralis.”

“And what's your business with him?” The doctor looked ready to slam the door in Link's face, which would honestly do little good. One way or another, Link was getting Prince Ralis and lugging him out of there.

“I'm his friend,” Link said, hoping he sounded convincing. “I've been worried about him.”

“Well, he isn't here. Telma picked him up and said she was taking him to Kakariko Village. She said something about a funeral.”

Link's blood went cold. “He's dead?”

The doctor effectively slammed the door in his face.

“Oh…” Midna flitted to Link's shoulder, the wicked smile long gone. “This isn't good.”

“Maybe Telma hasn't left yet?” Link suggested.

“Colin?”

Link braced himself before turning around. A girl with elaborate blond curls waited to meet him, curtsying.

“I can't believe it,” she said. She brushed away tears, then jogged towards him, pulling him into a quick but polite embrace. She smelled the same as he remembered—like flowers and weak tea.

The girl pulled away, frowning at his appearance. She pretended to dust dirt off his shoulders. “Where have you been all this time, Colin? I've been worried sick.”

“Around,” Link said lamely. He couldn't help but soften around her—good memories came back to him for once, not sad ones. “It's lovely to see you again, Agitha. How have you been?”

“That's Princess Agitha to you!” She giggled. “Or have you forgotten our little game, Prince Colin?”

“Of course I haven't, my princess.” Link took her hand and kissed it.

Midna yawned loudly, leaning back in the air and closing her eyes.

Link ignored her, as always.

“It's been so long,” Agitha said. “But it pleases me to know you are well.”

“It's been five years.” Link looked away from her. Agitha had always been a blinding sight. “Have you finally found yourself a kingdom?”

“Yes, I have all of the golden bugs now.” Her smile faltered. “But really, this is all a game, Colin. We both know it. Please tell me where you've been living; I haven't spent a single day without thinking of you.”

“I've never lived anywhere for very long.” Link wasn't sure why he was blinking tears away, but he was. “I always leave before anybody can get attached. You know that.”

“It must get very lonely.” Agitha linked her arm with Link's, guiding him around the fountain. Midna sat down on Link's head, tugging at the tops of his ears sharply.

“It hasn't been too terrible.” Link paused; he wasn't sure if those words were true, but it felt good to say them. “Listen, Agitha. Do you know where a woman called Telma lives?”

“Oh, she owns a popular bar in town. Why?”

“Can you take me to her? It's important.”

Agitha giggled again, her curls swaying with the movement. “Are you partaking in some princely matter?”

“Of course, my princess.”

“Well, I can take you directly there. She's taken in some girl. Rumor has it she's lost her memory.”

“Who? Telma or the girl?”

“The girl, of course!” Agitha swept Link down an alleyway, her large skirts twirling around her ankles.

Telma's bar looked like a seedy place, its entrance practically hidden in the shadows. But if Prince Ralis might be there—and maybe Ilia—investigating the place would be worth it.

Agitha let go of Link, curseying yet again. “Please visit me before you leave Castle Town, Colin. Princesses tend to get lonely without their prince.”

Link bowed, but didn't make any promises.

Agitha swept away, her heels clicking loudly on the cobblestones.

“How many names do you have?” Midna hissed, hopping off his head. “Doesn't it get a little hard to keep track of them all?”

“It's fine,” Link said. “It's not like I'm the one saying the name. I only say it once, then I leave it up to other people to remember it.”

“That girl likes you. Oh, Prince Colin!” she mocked, fluttering a hand over her heart. “Are you partaking in some princely matter?”

“She's just a good friend.” Link opened the door to the bar, dismissing the conversation. Men and women were having a good time in there, drinking and carrying on. Link hated crowds; he had to force himself to take the steps required to actually enter the bar.

It didn't seem so bad once he was actually inside. Nobody paused in their drinking or chatter to strike up a conversation with him at the very least. So he walked up to the counter, where a woman was giving him a glare. “Hello,” he managed. “I'm here to speak to—”

“Telma?” The woman laughed, the glare being replaced with a bright twinkle. “That would be me. What do you need?”

“He probably needs to speak to the Zora!” a man bellowed, downing the contents of his entire glass. “Everyone's been asking about him!”

“Yes,” Link agreed. “Is he still here?”

“He's in the back.” Telma turned around, opening up a door leading to a back room. “Ilia!” she bellowed. “A boy is here to speak to the Zora!”

Link sat down on a stool. With that said, Telma began pouring him a drink. She wore a ring on each one of her fingers—huge, gaudy stones that probably cost more than Princess Zelda's entire collection of crowns.

“She'll be out in a minute,” Telma said unnecessarily. She pushed the drink towards Link. “What's your name, traveler?”

“How do you know I'm a traveler?”

Telma quirked one of her brows. “You have that world weary look to you, I guess.”

Link tentatively took a sip of his drink. He had a feeling that Telma wouldn't stop looking at him until he did so.

Ilia walked out from the back. Agitha had said she'd lost her memory—and sure enough, her eyes ghosted over Link as if she'd never met him before.

“This is Ilia,” Telma said, patting her on the back. “Where's the Zora?”

Ilia looked down. Her hair had grown out a little bit more since Link had last spoken to her. The light brown curls now reached past her ears. He tried to imagine how her father—who was coincidently the mayor of Ordon Village—would react to seeing his daughter working in a bar, but failed.

“He's still asleep,” Ilia said softly.

Link let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. “Can I go see him? It's important.”

Ilia crossed her arms. “We don't need another gawker. The poor boy has been through enough—”

Link hopped onto the counter. Telma looked impressed, whereas Ilia turned pale. “It's important,” Link repeated.

Telma gripped Link's arm, but he pushed her away. Ilia filled up the doorway. “No!” she exclaimed. “I'm not letting you through.”

Link didn't want to pull his sword against her. That wouldn't be right. Telma took his arm again, her grip tight.

“Back down,” she said. “I won't have violence in my bar.”

Midna, who until this point had been low profile, hovered into Link's view. “We'll come back later,” she said, shaking her head at the scene. “It's not worth it.”

Link pushed Telma away again. “Fine! I'll go.” Ilia relaxed at his words, which Link took as an opportunity to dart past her and into the room. Prince Ralis sat on a bed, reading a book. Not sleeping. Not dead. Just reading.

Ralis looked up. “What was all that commotion—oh my goodness! Nohansen!” He jumped up, book falling forgotten to the floor. “You're alive!”

Ilia and Telma stomped in.

“The nerve!” Ilia screeched, whereas Telma just looked amused. “I better never see your face in this bar again. If I do, I'm gonna—”

Ralis was still staring at Link. “Have you heard news of my mother?” he asked, hope glittering in his eyes. “If you have returned from the dead, miracles must truly happen!”

Link took the blue medallion out of his pocket, presenting it to him. Ilia and Telma grew very still, realization dawning on their faces.

Ralis didn't take the medallion. “She's dead, isn't she?”

“I'm sorry,” Link said. The medallion was very cold in his hand, seeping through the flimsy comfort of the bandages. “She sent me to you. She was worried about your safety.”

Ralis burst into tears. Ilia stepped forward to comfort him, but he pushed her away.

“Are you really the hero reborn?” Telma asked.

Link slid the medallion into the pocket of his tunic, shivering at the extreme cold. “I'm afraid so.”

Chapter Text

“I'll help you find the Fused Shadow on one condition,” Prince Ralis said, brushing tears from his eyes. “You leave Ilia alone so she can be with me.”

Link didn't like discussing the fate of a girl who wasn't in the same room. Telma and Ilia had already left them alone, Telma remarking that the hero's business was not for common ears.

Whatever that meant.

“Do you promise?” Ralis asked. “Someday, Ilia shall be my queen, and I can't have some commoner interfering with that.”

Link struggled to remember that Prince Ralis was only a child and still reeling from the loss of his mother. “Does Ilia know about this?”

“Of course she does. We've discussed it.” Ralis walked over to a mirror set up in the corner of the room, admiring the various piercings that adorned his face.

“Then I promise,” Link said wanly, looking away from his own reflection. Midna swept into view. “It's not like it was ever a competition anyway.”

Ralis smirked. “Are you in love with the imp?”

Midna looked shocked, her mouth falling open. “Excuse me?”

“A wolf and an imp saved my life the other day. I assume the wolf was you, Nohansen?”

“The average person cannot see creatures of the Twilight.” Midna crossed her arms, sharing a look with Link. “What do you think this means?”

“Well, I think it means I'm not an average person!” Ralis laughed, clapping his hands together. “But let's get going. Why is there a piece of Fused Shadow hiding in my temple, anyway?”

“How do you even know about the Fused Shadow?” Midna glared, crossing her arms. “We're leaving now, anyway—”

“Wait!” Ralis looked at Link for help. “I know exactly where the Fused Shadow is, okay? Its existence was why my mother was killed. An evil man dropped down from the sky, and when my mother didn't know what he was talking about, he…”

Link took a deep breath. “We didn't ask you for help in the first place, Prince Ralis. We don't expect you to do anything; it's time for you to grieve.”

“I guess I just assumed?” Ralis shook his head, preparing to say something else, when Telma opened the door.

“Are you boys going to be in here all night?” she asked, forever chipper. “There's no one in the bar right now, and me and Ilia's cooked up some lunch if you want some.”

Midna beginning pushing Link out of the room. “I think you're hiding something from us,” she said to Ralis, who narrowed his eyes. “And whatever it is, you should tell us before it consumes you.”

The door shut behind them. Telma patted Link on the cheek. “You and Prince Ralis get along so well!”

“I guess.” Link bit his lip. Midna withdrew into his shadow, mumbling something about being tired.

A massive boom shook the bar. Link rushed towards the sound, flinging open the door all over again. Ralis stood in the center of the room, the last Fused Shadow in his hands.

“I knew where it was the entire time,” Ralis said. He tossed the Fused Shadow into the air, and it levitated above his head. “I didn't care if my mother would pay for it; I just couldn't bear the thought of giving such raw power away.”

“Give it to Midna,” Link commanded. She waltzed out of his shadow tentatively, approaching Ralis like he was a bomb that was about to go off. And in a way, he was.

“What's going on?” Ilia rushed in from the kitchen, a stirring spoon in her hand. “Ralis, what are you doing?”

Ralis looked up, a wicked grin splitting his face. The Fused Shadow tore apart, turning into a long and jagged sword.

Link drew his own. He didn't want to fight against the last member of the Zora royal family. And he didn't want to fight against his friend.

But when it came down to it, he had no choice.

“Give it to me!” Midna hissed. “You aren't special. That Fused Shadow was the only reason you could see me at all!”

Prince Ralis swiped the sword to and fro, knocking over a vase filled with flowers. It shattered against the floor. Telma took Ilia's hand, pulling her away from the path of the sword.

Link jumped over the counter and back into the main area of the bar, holding his shield at the ready.

“Oh, hero.” Prince Ralis said, but not with his voice. It was similar to Midna's—heavily accented and filled with hatred. “Is this where the chosen hero of the goddess meets his end?”

Telma ran forward. “Enough!” she burst, pulling a knife from her belt. “I will not have violence in this bar!”

Ralis held out a hand, a blast of magic propelling Telma backward and into a wall of wine bottles. Ilia cried out, running towards Telma to make sure she was alright.

Ralis swung his sword at Link, who was quick to dive out of the way.

“What are we going to do?” Midna stared down at her hands. “Any magic I could use would destroy this bar, and I don't want to do that to Telma…”

Link continued to evade Ralis's attacks. Ralis walked very slowly. He was obviously possessed—and Link could never hurt someone who weren't in control of their own actions.

“What kind of hero are you? You can't even bring yourself to attack an enemy.” A man dropped down from the ceiling, covered in heavy black robes. His face was obscured by a mask, similar to those the Shadow Beasts wore. He touched Prince Ralis's forehead with a gloved hand. The Twilight marking shone for a moment before fading entirely.

Ralis hit the floor, the sword dissipating into the air.

“Zant,” Midna spat. She rose to greet him, arms crossed. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Zant held up the Fused Shadow. It rotated in his hand. “You're a traitor, Midna. And what do traitor's do? They pay.”

Ilia ran forward, throwing her arms out. “You will not hurt the hero. Not over my dead body!”

Zant hit her with energy, making her crumple to the ground the same as Ralis had. He stepped over their bodies, sighing in distaste.

“Did you kill them?” Midna asked.

“Believe it or not, Midna, I am not entirely evil.” Zant held up a hand, pulling Link over to him with energy alone. He draped Link in a hug, holding him close beneath his robes.

“Let go of me!” Link struggled, but Zant's hold was too strong. He bit Zant's arm, desperate to be let go, but that only made Zant hold him closer.

“You should be grateful, boy!” Zant touched Link's forehead, shoving something hard and sharp inside.

Link screamed, hitting against Zant with everything he had left.

Midna lifted up her hands, and water cracked down from the sky in a torrential downpour. Surely the bar would be ruined. Everything Telma had worked for—it would all be gone.

“Is that the best you can do, Midna?” Zant laughed. The Fused Shadow on Midna's head lifted away, revealing a mass of orange hair. She screeched as the other Fused Shadows lifted away from her.

Zant tired of holding Link, pushing him away with a harsh shove. Once Link managed to keep himself from falling, he tried to run towards Midna—meaning to protect her—but something held him back. It was like ice water being poured through his veins, and he couldn't even speak, the cold was so strong.

“What did you do to him?” Midna asked, voice broken. Zant shrugged, the Fused Shadows disappearing in his robes.

“You know very well what I've done. With the hero as a beast and the Twilight Princess dead, my mission here will be much, much easier.”

With a cackle, Zant disappeared. Ilia and Ralis stirred, but Link was frozen in place.

Midna was all washed out. Without the Fused Shadow, without any sort of magic, she was dying—she could no longer sustain herself in the Light Realm at all.

Link darted forward, breaking through whatever barrier had been holding him back before. But his movements were too slow, too sluggish. He took Midna into his arms, holding her close. He could barely breathe, the air wheezing in and out of his lungs painfully.

“The Light Princess is the only one who can help.” Midna touched Link's cheek. “She's your destiny; she'll know what to do. Please hurry, wolf boy, for both of our sakes.”

Link nodded, slowly standing up. It was like both of his feet were weighed down. He walked out from the bar in slow motion. Ilia called out, but he could barely hear her. And every step—he felt a little more lost to the Twilight.

Chapter Text

Zelda stood in the palace gardens. With the Twilight gone, she had found it easier to breathe as of late. She snipped a rose with her garden shears, admiring its bright red petals.

She turned around, meaning to show the rose to Impa, but stopped in her tracks. Leaning against the archway leading into the castle, holding Midna's lifeless form in his arms, was the hero.

His very soul begged for relief; his entire body was pale and gray, his hair a dark black. The sky above him was filled with clouds, threatening rain.

Zelda dropped the rose, lifting up her skirts and running towards him. The hero slumped against the archway, the last of his strength leaving him. He crumpled against the ground, his head lolling to the side.

“Save the hero first,” Midna commanded, trying to squirm out of the hero's arms but failing. She smiled softly despite her tone. “He's more important than I am.”

“Nonsense.” Zelda took Midna from the hero's grasp easily, setting her gently on the ground beside him. Zelda remained kneeling despite the fact the wet ground would soil her skirts. “We must go to Ordona's spring. She'll know what to do.”

Midna laughed. “Aren't you the one who's supposed to help? Zant is turning the hero into a wolf again. Don't you understand, foolish princess? His light is fading away.”

Zelda risked a glance at the hero. He was breathing shallowly. Zelda slipped off her left glove, letting it fall to the ground. Her Triforce shown in the darkness just as it began to rain, droplets scattering between the archways like some bad dream.

Where they were sitting, the rain eluded them. But she could feel it, and she couldn't stop shivering.

“Nohansen…” she murmured, taking her hand in his. “It's time for you have courage.”

His Triforce shone so brilliantly that it burned her palm. She pulled away.

“I'm not Nohansen,” the hero said. His eyes were closed, his words but a whisper. “I'm Link.”

“Right…” Zelda risked touching his hand again. It still burned, but she held on to it anyway. The burn would fade, but the comfort—it would not. “It's time to remember, Link. The time has come for you to accept your destiny.”

Midna lifted up into the air. She was a weak little thing, her orange hair long and overwhelming her tiny body. A portal appeared above her, high up in the sky, and she began to pull the three of them through it.

“Wake up, Link,” Zelda continued. The scenery shifted, crackling apart. “You can't leave me now. Not after all of this. Not when I believed you to be dead for so long.”

Chapter Text

When the hero was born, there was a grand rejoicing. Not because he was the hero, not because he would one day save the world, but because he was born.

Uli and Rusl of Ordon Village had struggled to conceive for many years. They prayed, wishing the goddess would bless them with a child. It had gotten to the point they thought it would never happen—that a child just wasn't in the stars for them.

But then, just as they had given up, Uli realized she was expecting. Dreams were finally coming true, and the entirety of Ordon Village was overcome with their joy.

When the hero was born, there was no sign that he was different or unusual. He was a happy baby, well-liked by everyone. But without warning, that happiness was taken away.

The King of Hyrule visited the humble Ordon Village. He had been on a tour all over his country, searching for the reincarnation of the ancient hero. He spun tales of doom everywhere he went, telling of the evil that would befall Hyrule in only a few short years.

The king had his own daughter with him, a young girl with a Triforce marked on her hand in golden ink.

Ordon Village was small, and Uli and Rusl were the only couple with a child so young. But they did not worry, even when the king asked to see their child. What was there to fear? There were thousands of children in Hyrule; why would theirs be the one the king was after?

“What is the child's name?” the king asked. He was young, not much older than a child himself. But everyone in Ordon Village had reverence for the royal family. Even a young king demanded their respect.

“His name is Colin,” Uli said, smiling. She was proud of her son. He was all golden curls and bright blue eyes, playing with wooden blocks Rusl had carved for him in the corner of the room.

Princess Zelda toddled over. But maybe toddle wasn't a good word to use—even as a very young child, she was graceful, her dress elaborate and her eyes somber.

“Is this the hero, Zelda?” the king asked.

Princess Zelda hesitated, if there was such a thing as a child's hesitation. She stepped forward and touched the boy's hand, and for a moment, a golden Triforce shone as clear as day, filling the room with its magic.

Uli cried out in shock, but her husband held her back. It already felt strange to have the royal family in their modest home, and it felt even stranger to have the king steal their child away from them like he'd never been theirs at all.

“What a beautiful child,” the king remarked. The hero began to cry, reaching out for his mother. Zelda consoled him, patting his head. “And he will serve our kingdom well.”

“You must be mistaken,” Rusl said gruffly. “We are nothing but a simple peasant family. Colin is not the hero.”

“I'm sorry,” the king said simply. He nodded his head at one of his attendants. She was a tall, regal woman with a tattoo of a teardrop underneath her right eye. She walked over to the hero and picked him up, frowning at his terrible cries. Princess Zelda followed, hands clasped neatly in front of her, as the hero was removed from everything he had ever known.

And that moment marked the last time the hero was ever someone's son.

*

The hero was taken to Hyrule Castle to live. He was given a sword before he could even complete full sentences. Everyday was filled with instruction, never any play. Court etiquette and history lessons consumed his days, swordplay consumed his nights. The hero learned everything it was a hero needed to know, but he never learned how to be himself.

As the hero grew older, he grew lonely. He would see the princess on occasion. She seemed as lonely as he was, but at least she had her father. And she had some friends, a gaggle of girls who laughed in the rose gardens and wandered the hallways with her.

All the hero had was Impa, a Sheikah who was tasked with defending the royal family. And he had other instructors, of course, but he never learned to know them intimately.

The hero's existence was an absolute secret in the castle. It was a secret to everyone. The instructors thought he was the spoiled cousin of Princess Zelda, never thinking that the boy was the hero reincarnated. That the boy they called “Nohansen” was actually called “the hero” in private. That the boy they served and cared for—he was actually a boy without a name.

“Impa,” the hero said one night, the word floating up into the air. She looked up from her studies, forever serious. There was never a break with her. “Where was I born?”

Impa looked back down at her book. She flipped a page before responding. “That doesn't concern you.”

The hero flopped down on his bed, staring up at the boring ceiling. The incense Impa always burned filled the room, filling his head and making him even more wanting than usual. “Impa,” he said again. “Why don't I have a name?”

Impa gave up on reading, snapping her book shut. “Why does anyone have a name?”

“I don't know. But if everyone else has one, I want one, too.”

“You're the hero. Isn't that enough?” Impa stood up from the desk, gathering her reading materials. “Now it's time for you to sleep. You have an early day tomorrow.”

“Impa,” the hero said incessantly. She paused in the doorway. He swallowed down his next question.

Impa waited. There was something close to love in her eyes—the hero could almost feel it—but it was gone by the time she blinked.

“Good night,” he said instead.

“Goodnight, my little hero,” Impa replied. “I know I'm harsh. I just want you to be prepared. The evil that awaits this kingdom may arrive faster than you expect.”

With that, she closed the door.

*

The years passed, and still, the evil did not come. The castle grew more lax. The doom that had been pressing on everyone—the royal family and servants alike—eased up. The hero was finally allowed to leave the confines of the castle; the hope being that he would learn to love Hyrule enough to save it when the time presented itself.

But the journey, of course, was to be taken with Princess Zelda.

“Someday, the two of you will be married,” the king reminded Link on more than one occasion. “It would do you two well to spend some time together.”

Impa would also come. But it was mostly going to be the hero and the princess. Alone. Together. And the hero knew what she expected—probably a first kiss in Zora's Domain, a confession of love during a stroll along Lake Hylia.

On the morning before their trip, Impa called the hero over to her room for last-minute preparations. She began by tying the hero's long hair back with a ribbon, as usual. But it was black instead of the blue he was accustomed to wearing.

“You're now a teenager,” Impa explained. “Bright colors are for children.”

The hero hadn't realized it was his birthday. It was something Impa had never acknowledged before. He hadn't even realized he had one.

“I have a bad feeling about today.” Impa patted him on the cheek. A sign of affection. It was the first one the hero had in so long that his knees grew weak. There was a pressure behind his eyes—a sign of crying. But Impa would call him weak for that.

Heroes never cry.

The pat on the cheek was gone but not forgotten. Impa finished packing the bags, adding any extra supplies they might need during the trip.

“Be on the lookout,” Impa said. “If today is the day your destiny calls for you, I want you to be prepared for it.”

“I will be,” the hero promised. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Impa smiled. “I sure hope so, my little hero.”

*

The trip began in Castle Town. The hero hadn't set foot out of Hyrule Castle since he was taken there as a baby. Everything felt so new, and Impa's ominous words were quickly forgotten.

He peered through the curtain of the carriage, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of people. His small world was expanding, bit by bit.

Zelda sat uncomfortably close to him. “Stop being so weird,” she said, these being the first words she said to him their entire life. “You're making a scene.”

Begrudgingly, the hero let the curtain fall shut.

“Can I call you Nohansen?” Zelda asked. “I've heard an instructor call you that, and I liked it.”

“No,” Impa said. “And stop crowding him.”

Zelda scooted away from him with a frown. She crossed her arms. The hero pulled the curtain open again, and he didn't give Zelda another thought until Castle Town was far behind them.

Before nightfall, they set up camp in Hyrule Field. Impa kept the hero unusually close, not letting him wander too far out of view.

The royal knight who had escorted them was dismissed, driving the horse-drawn carriage away. And in effect leaving Impa with two young teenagers in her charge. Maybe she was just nervous about that.

But the hero knew Impa better than he knew anyone. So he knew when she was worried about something. Maybe it was the strange feeling she had that morning, the one that made her put a black ribbon in his hair.

The hero hoped it wasn't. He didn't want today to be the day he met his destiny. In fact, he would prefer it never arrived at all.

Zelda plopped herself down on the grass, staring up at the stars. At the urging of Impa, the hero lied down beside her.

“Aren't they lovely?” Zelda asked. Somehow, she had the hero's hand in her own. It wasn't unpleasant. Just weird.

Impa sat down a little bit away from them, carving a piece of wood with her knife. Giving them as much privacy as she could muster, most likely.

Zelda turned herself over. She was lovely. Very pretty, actually. “I'll call you Nohansen in private,” she whispered. “I think it's terrible they haven't given you a name.”

The hero stepped into his new name just like that. It didn't feel completely right, but it would have to do for now. “Okay,” he said.

Zelda laughed. “Is that all you can say, Nohansen?”

The hero shrugged. Zelda touched his cheek with her thumb, and she closed his lips with her own.

It was strange. And the kiss lasted much longer than he deemed necessary. He felt very hot suddenly, like he might be sick.

Zelda drew herself away. She was blushing. And the hero knew she was beautiful, but he didn't really want to kiss her again.

*

The three of them set off early the next morning. They traveled to Lake Hylia, intent on meeting the Zora Royal Family.

“We will introduce you as Nohansen, cousin of Zelda,” Impa informed him.

“Father said nothing about people not knowing he's the hero,” Zelda retorted. She had his hand in hers again. Not with his permission, but it wasn't like he was pushing her away, either.

“You're right.” Impa forced a smile on her face. “Like I would ever forget your father's exact words, princess.”

The Queen of Zoras and her son, Prince Ralis, were more than happy to receive them. Impa told them they were in the presence of the hero, and it was a strange sensation for him to be bowed to.

They stayed for more than a month. The hero learned of the banished Princess Ruta, the older sister of Ralis.

“Why was she banished?” the hero asked. Zora's Domain was always lovely at night, the waterfall a crystalline shade of blue.

“She didn't want to be a princess any longer—she absolutely loathed politics,” Ralis explained. “And Mother couldn't bear to tell her people that. So she told everyone she was banished, not giving them a reason why.”

“I would like to be banished.” The hero kicked at the waterfall, wishing he could just be swallowed up by it and disappear.

Ralis considered it. “I think you'd get lonely.”

“I'm already lonely.”

The hero noticed Impa out the corner of his eye. She'd been watching him every moment of everyday, but he'd acted oblivious to the attention. He hoped that she'd heard him, hoped she knew he'd meant what he said.

“Well, Ruta has a girlfriend, so she's probably not lonely.” Ralis nudged the hero's shoulder. “She's a Hylian like you, don't you know?”

The hero looked up at Ralis, at the piercings adorning his face. “Thank you for being my friend,” he said. “It means a lot.”

Ralis laughed like that was the funniest thing in the world. “Why wouldn't I be your friend? You're the hero!”

“Nohansen,” Impa called, as if she hadn't been standing there the entire time. “It's time for your history lesson.”

The hero stood up. He felt hurt by Ralis's words. But that was ridiculous.

All Ralis said was the truth.

Impa clasped the hero's shoulder, leading him off into the shadows. She brought him into the small room that had provided for their lessons. Instead of the books that usually covered the desk, a bottle of golden ink and a needle glinted in the candlelight.

“I need you to have your Triforce,” Impa said. “It will protect you when nothing else will.”

“Don't I have to earn it?” the hero asked, struggling to speak around his mounting fear. If done incorrectly, he would die. “The Hero of the Skies had to earn it, hadn't he?”

Impa ushered him to sit down. He did so, offering her his left hand before she could ask for it.

“You already have the power of the Triforce deep within your spirit. This isn't just a matter of decoration, Colin. It's—”

“Colin?”

Impa's lips became very thin. Her own Triforce burst to life, the golden encasing her arm, and it brought a reaction out of the hero. He writhed as the power within himself itched for escape, but he didn't know where to place it, so it simmered and pushed violently against his skin.

He beat against the table as Impa pressed the needle to his hand, bringing the power of the Triforce to life prematurely. It was trick that had been used for years now in the royal family. The ancient ways were lost—the former magic was weakening—and it was much easier to brand yourself than to invent yourself. As long as the Triforce shown golden, it worked. It was that simple.

The hero screamed, tears smarting his eyes. Impa held his hand in an iron grip. But all he could think was that she'd said his name.

Colin.

How had he ever forgotten it?

*

The next time the hero was aware of anything, there was a bandage wrapped around his left hand and a deep pain in his temples.

The days expected for recovery were nonexistent. Impa took him away from Zora's Domain. The princess came with them, but the hero was hardly aware of her.

The Triforce had made him far weaker than Impa had anticipated. Word had gotten to the king, and he was furious that Impa had done such a thing without his permission.

“What are we going to do?” Zelda asked.

Impa stared at her. There were tears in her eyes. The hero had never seen such strong emotion in her, and he wished he could reach out and comfort her, but found he was unable to.

For the first time, the hero realized Impa loved him. Maybe like a son.

Impa set his limp body in Ordona's spring. He didn't feel the water even though he should have. He felt nothing, like his spirit was in limbo, like the goddess was still deciding his fate.

The hero was dead. The power within him was too strong, too unwarranted—and once it tore through him, it was too late.

Impa and the princess left him alone in Ordona's spring, not realizing they mourned his death too soon. And that slowly but surely, the three great dragons and the spirit of light were working their magic.

The hero still had a life to live, and they weren't about to let it end like this.

Chapter Text

“Are you surprised?” Ordona asked. She was a golden wolf, watching Link carefully. “To be alive after such an ordeal, I would be surprised, too.”

Link wasn't sure if she was talking about when he was a child, when he had woken up in her spring lost and confused. Or if she was talking about now, when he was so close to losing himself that it seemed inevitable.

Either way, he didn't want to acknowledge it.

“What are you going to do, magnificent Light Spirit?” Midna asked weakly. He had never seen her walk on the ground before. Watching her stumble, her small feet carrying her, made him want to look away. “You can slow down the hero's transformation, but you can't stop it.”

Zelda followed after Midna, holding her elaborate skirts up and out of the water. “I can stop the transformation,” she said, nodding her head at Ordona. “It's simple. Zant placed a Shadow Crystal within the hero. Once removed, he'll be fine.”

“Removing the Shadow Crystal will surely kill you, princess,” Ordona said.

Zelda let go of her skirts. They splashed into the water. It was almost a statement—the luxuries of life no longer mattered to her. “I don't care what happens to me. The hero is more important.”

Link wished he could speak, but he was too cold to do that. All of his thoughts were muddled. If it weren't for Ordona's spring, he would already be a wolf. But he could still feel his bones shifting, his muscles contracting, his blood trembling through his veins.

Soon, it would all be over. And he didn't want Zelda to exchange her life for his. No life was worth more than another.

“What if I lend my power to the Twilight Princess?” Zelda asked. “With my spirit, she will be able to sustain herself in the Light Realm.”

“No!” Midna rose up from the water. She was nearly dead, Link realized. They were both on the bridge between life and death, just different kinds.

Link could not bear to a wolf forever. He just couldn't.

Zelda ignored Midna's outburst. For only a moment, she looked at him with longing, like she wished they could be children again and kissing in the grass.

Then she walked towards Midna, and Link kept his eyes closed as the exchange took place. As Zelda lent her very soul to Midna, perhaps forever, and without asking for anything in return.

“That princess is a fool,” Ordona said, once the golden light had waned and Zelda was no longer. “All mortals are fools. The princess and the hero are the most important of all mortals that walk Hyrule, yet they are forever sacrificing themselves. And for what?”

Midna was there, suddenly, placing her cold hands on Link's forehead. Ordona faded away, finished with the two of them. Link wasn't sad to see her go.

“It's time to leave,” Midna said. “Stop resisting the transformation. I've stuck around you far too long for you to die without my permission.”

Link whimpered as his spirit caved and he finally turned into a wolf, everything within himself shattering and rearranging. It was agonizing, it was slow. But Midna's hands never left his forehead, never ceased their comfort.

Once finished, the sun dipping low in the sky, she sat herself on his back.

“I want you to know this,” she said, patting his sides absently. “I didn't want Zelda to do that for me. But I'll take what she's given. It would be foolish to waste her gift. Remember that, wolf boy. Wasting other people's kindness is foolish.”

Link closed his eyes, laying down in the spring, fully intending to sleep. He wasn't sure what would come next. There was no walkthrough, no plan. None of Impa's preparations came even close to preparing him for this.

None of it mattered. Everything in life was too unexpected, both the good and the bad.

Midna yawned, propping herself over him, burying her face in his fur. “It'll be alright,” she murmured. “I promised to keep you safe. And I meant that, Link.”

The silence stretched between them and Midna began to laugh hysterically, the sound muffled by his fur. She laughed so long that she was almost begging him for a reaction, but he had none to give.

It was just—Midna had said his name. Link felt himself drifting off, succumbing to his own exhaustion.

But—

She had finally said his name. The name he had chosen for himself. The name that he hadn't heard in a story book, or was said to him accidentally, or was said because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Link was a name all his own. A name that belonged to him. It had belonged to his past life, somebody he wished he could know.

And Midna had finally said it.

Chapter Text

Midna used her newfound power to bring the hero to Faron's spring. The best journeys always begin and end in the same place, after all, and Midna wanted this journey to end soon.

“We need to find the Master Sword,” Midna announced to Faron, who whirled her way out of the spring like the proper deity she was. “It has the power to vanquish evil, so I'm sure it can help Link. Maybe turn him back into a Hylian or something.”

Faron laughed. “Nothing can save the hero now,” she said. “The Master Sword no longer exists.”

Link growled, but Midna patted him on the head. The last thing he needed to have was a temper right now.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Midna scoffed. “Every legend involving the hero involves the Master Sword. It's that plain and that simple.”

“Are legends ever true? A hundred years from now, when the two of you are long dead, do you think tales of an imp and a wolf saving the world will be considered true? No, the version of the beautiful princess and the hero marrying after vanquishing a hideous beast will be true.”

Midna felt something within herself grow hollow. “Are the legends of the Hero of the Skies true, then?”

“What do you believe, Twilight Princess?” Faron asked. “Or more importantly, what do you want to believe?”

Midna thought about the legends, what her mother had told her and what had sustained her so long. It was all so simple in her mind. As far as she knew, the hero and the Light Princess were destined to be lovers. It was supposed to be that way, wasn't it?

But she was sitting on the hero's back. The hero who had lied to her about himself countless times, and would probably lie to her again. The hero who wasn't just the hero—but a boy. And not only that, a sad, pitiful boy who didn't even have a name.

It was better for Midna to believe what she wanted to believe. Either that, or face the ugly truth.

“I want to believe the Master Sword exists for Link's sake,” Midna said. “So you are going to tell me where it should be, and you are going to tell me now.”

Faron hesitated. “The final resting place of the Hero of the Skies is in a sacred grove in the heart of Faron Woods. Find him, and I am sure he will help you.”

The hollow feeling expanded. Even the prospect of meeting the first hero no longer thrilled her. “How would a dead man help?”

“Believe he can help. Only then will he have the power to do so.”

Faron faded away. Link was quiet, and Midna wished she could speak to him. She wanted to know what he was thinking so badly that she could cry.

Legends were never true. Midna knew that Faron was right. Most of what Link and she had been through would be forgotten, would never be shared beyond the two of them.

The fight with Prince Ralis will someday be twisted as a great battle between sworn enemies. Midna will not be known. Tales of Princess Zelda and the hero will be shared and misconstrued.

But the best stories were the ones shared in private, weren't they? The ones that have details so secret that only two people will ever know them.

Golden fairy lights shimmered in the air and led their way to the sacred grove. Faron was many things, but nobody could say she wasn't thorough.

The woods shifted and grew the more they walked. The air shimmered with a dreamlike quality, the trees rich and vibrant shades of green and brown. Midna grew more and more nervous the further they went.

Link, however, acted unconcerned about it all. He just walked, head ducked low, sniffing at trees every now and again. Maybe Midna should just relax and let go a little.

The trees gave way and a large clearing appeared. A sword pedestal sat in the center of a gigantic Triforce, its three triangles carved and burned deep into the tall grass.

Link continued to step forward. The woods were eerily quiet. If this really was the final resting place of the hero, Midna wasn't sure what to expect.

The pedestal was empty. There was nothing around. The trail of golden fairy lights had ended, and they had obviously led to nothing but an empty pedestal and a missing sword.

But then the Triforce below them began to glow, and the world around Midna—it faded away.

“The Twilight Realm is fairly new,” a man was saying. But Midna couldn't see anything—just darkness. And Link was gone, the warmth of his fur no longer there to steady her racing heart. “It consumed the silent realm, leaving spirits such as myself and Hylia forever lost to wander the untainted pieces of it.”

Midna was no longer an imp. She was her true self. She could feel it—the length of her limbs, her long dress, even if she couldn't see it. “Serves you right,” she said. “People like Demise were forced unjustly into the Twilight Realm because of Hylia. Because of fear.”

“Demise's strength was… unusual. But there were so many others who could control dark magic; how could we risk that evil rising a second time?”

Midna knew that Zant was the next great evil. And he had risen from the Twilight. But it could have been anyone, really—it could have even been Princess Zelda.

“It still isn't fair,” Midna said. “Not everyone is equal. I should be a Light Dweller right now, living somewhere in Hyrule.”

The man didn't say another word. This angered Midna. If he was going to talk to her like this, he should at least give her a response.

“Who are you, anyway?” she snapped. “I'm tired of these Light Spirits who value themselves too much. Are you Hylia?”

The darkness faded and the light returned so abruptly that Midna was blinded for a moment, having to blink to adjust to her new surroundings. The night sky surrounded her, thousands of stars shining in the sky. She was sitting on a floating island, a thick layer of clouds below her.

But there was no one on the island with her.

“You believe the hero to be something other than he is,” the man continued. “As a child, you spoke to me many times. I'm sorry to say I'm not anything special; I'm just a hero of a bygone era.”

Midna stood up from the grass. The wind blew harshly, but it was bliss against her exposed skin. It was nice to be herself again, no matter how temporary.

It was no surprise to her when the Hero of the Skies materialized out of thin air. He was young, almost identical to the Link she knew so well. But the Hero of the Skies had golden hair rather than brown; his eyes were blue, and the most exquisite flowers and vines patterned his skin in vibrant ink.

“I am a reflection of myself, the age when I took down Demise.” The hero smiled, and the night sky disappeared along with it. The sky was the clearest blue instead, large and colorful birds flying in lazy circles around clouds.

Midna was mesmerized by them for a moment. She was standing in front of the hero, the one she had idolized for so long. She felt starstruck; it was impossible to look at him too long before feeling the need to look away.

“The legends speak many falsehoods about me. They say I won the Wing Ceremony the day Zelda fell from the sky. They say I scoured the Surface to rescue her, and once I succeeded, we were married.”

“Did you never marry?” Midna asked bluntly.

The hero laughed, walking closer to her. His eyes were more black than blue, she realized. “In any of these stories, did they ever say I was blind until I was seventeen years old?”

Midna's breath hitched in her throat.

“Did they tell that I fell in love with a man rather than a princess? And not only a man, but a demon?”

The image of the hero shifted. He was a few years older, his hair a little longer. A crowd of people stood behind him, their forms wavering in this false reality. People she had never heard of, but people who must have meant a great deal to him. People who were of vital importance in his true legend.

“The truth is, Twilight Princess, my story was far from perfect. In order to defeat the man you once loved—Zant—you must admit to yourself that your story will also be imperfect. And that the lines between good and evil—they are not always so easy to find.”

Midna closed her eyes, trying to piece together a question. It was a question she had wanted to ask for so long—had always wanted to know the answer to. But when she opened her eyes again, the hero was gone and she was imp. The entire encounter could have only been a dream.

Chapter Text

Link wasn't sure what had happened. One moment he was a wolf, then he wasn't—the process over in seconds. And now a beautiful sword was sitting in the pedestal—its blade black and its hilt blood red.

“Do you think that's the Master Sword?” Midna asked, flouncing over to it. “It looks evil to me. Maybe you shouldn't touch it.”

The Shadow Crystal was laying at his feet. “I think I'm more afraid of touching that thing,” Link said, kicking it with the toe of his boot.

Midna dived low to retrieve it. She made it disappear with a flick of her wrist. “It may come handy if you ever want to be a wolf again. But I doubt you want to do that.”

“You never know,” Link said. He stepped towards the pedestal, grabbing onto the hilt of the sword despite Midna's words of caution.

The sword slid easily from the pedestal. The hilt fit in his hands like it was made for him. He would need a sheath made for it, but it would definitely help in defeating Zant.

“Did you talk to him?” Midna asked.

Link slashed the sword through the air, just to see how it felt. “Who?”

“Never mind.”

Link looked around the sacred grove. It felt so peaceful. He would have stayed there forever given the choice. “What's next?” he asked. “Zant is obviously the person I need to destroy. Did you know him well?”

Midna shrugged. “I was engaged to him.”

“Was it love?”

“It was arranged.”

Link grimaced. “Of course it was. You're the Twilight Princess, after all. I used to be engaged, too.”

“Are you the Light Prince?” Midna rolled her eyes. “Or what's it called here? The Prince of Hyrule?”

“No, but I was engaged to Princess Zelda.” Link situated himself on the ground, setting the sword down beside him.

Midna winked. “I know.”

“How could you possibly know?”

“When Zelda offered her soul to me, we became one,” Midna said. “I have her memories. Or at least, the ones she thought I should have.”

Link didn't want Midna to know everything about him, but that was obviously no longer his decision. “She was in love with me," he said, "but I didn't love her. I could never give her what she truly wanted.” There was a pause, during which Link felt his heart do somersaults in his chest. “Do you know I died?”

Midna swept in front of him. “You died?”

“Oh, Zelda didn't think you should have that one? I'm technically a ghost.”

“You look alive to me.” Midna reached out, bopping him on the nose. “You're not a ghost. I've met ghosts, and you're not one of them.”

Link looked at her. Really looked at her. At her curly orange hair and the mark on her forehead that matched his own. “Does my Twilight marking mean I'm supposed to marry you?”

Midna faded away into a shadow. “Why would you say that?”

“We match. And you said the Shadow Beasts thought I was royalty or something.” Link smirked. “But I couldn't marry you, of course. You would never allow that.”

Midna burst back into color. Her face was bright red. “Am I not good enough for you? I'll have you know I was cursed to be this way. I'm normally a beautiful, sexy woman. Once Zant is dethroned, I'll be restored.”

Link's smirk faded. “Really? I didn't know you were cursed.”

“Why do you always say the obvious?” Midna turned her back to him.

“I don't know. I guess it's easier than saying I'd never be enough for you.”

“Why is that?” she asked, turning around to face him all over again. “We went over this. You're handsome and strong, Link. You've overcome so much to be where you are now.”

“Since when have you been so sappy?” Link could feel himself blush. “And don't say my name like that.”

Midna grinned. “Do I say it too sensually for your taste?”

“A little,” Link admitted, wishing his blush would disappear. His cheeks felt very hot. “So stop saying it. We need to discuss what we're going to do next.”

Midna disappeared. Golden fairy lights sprinkled a pathway out of the sacred grove. But Link wasn't sure if he was ready to leave just yet.

Regardless, he stood up, brushing dirt and grass off his tunic. He held the Master Sword carefully in his hand. When it came down to it, that sword might be his only shot at surviving.

The golden fairy lights led the way, so Link took them. His only wish? That Midna hadn't stopped talking to him. Even though he complained, he actually liked her endless stream of words.

Chapter Text

The golden fairy lights ended, the trees withdrew, and Link stood in a barren landscape. A sign hung precariously by a tree branch, spelling out the words Kakariko Village in huge letters.

Link looked behind him, only to find that the trail winded into Hyrule Field than the sacred grove. The golden fairy lights, the trees that surrounded them, were gone.

“There must be something here that you need,” Midna said. She threw up her hands. “Oh, I wonder what it is?”

Link watched the sign waver in the wind. “I'm not ready to speak with Renado,” he said. “I need more time.”

“Are people ever ready to face up to what they've done?” Midna did some sort of dance, shaking her hips. “Come on, baby Link. I'm sure everyone will be happy to see you.”

Link wagged the Master Sword around. “With this scary sword in my hand? It'll freak everybody out.”

Midna rolled her eyes, wrenching it out of his hand with a flick of her wrist. It disappeared. “There,” she said. “Guess it wasn't such a huge problem, after all.”

“Did you speak to the Hero of the Skies in the sacred grove?” Link asked.

Midna's dancing ceased. “Why would you ask that?”

“You acted completely unsurprised when I turned into a human again. And you have this glow about you.” Link reached out to touch her pink cheeks, but she jumped back.

“Yes, I spoke with him!”

“Why didn't he speak with me? Don't I need wisdom and courage or whatever it is he has to offer?”

Midna narrowed her eyes. “Does it really matter? And don't think I don't know what you're doing—you're totally stalling. I want you to march over to Renado's and apologize for running the other day. Right this minute.”

Link looked away from her, crossing his arms. “I stole everything he had and tricked Gor Coron into believing I was the hero.”

“I don't follow. You are the hero, so that wasn't a trick.”

“It still wasn't right. He gave me a place to sleep, and I stole all of his money, too. Then I ran off to Castle Town and wasted it all on Agitha and her dumb bug collection.”

Midna laughed, even though Link hadn't intended to be funny. It seemed that happen a lot.

“You're not a bad person, Link,” she said once she calmed down, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. “You did something wrong, but it isn't too late. And with the way Renado talked to you, I don't think he—”

Link gave up and walked into the village. It was very dark, the path lit up by lanterns hanging precariously by rope between buildings. A young Goron sold wares for travelers, but even he was asleep, snoring softly.

At the end of the path, near Eldin's spring, was Renado's house. His daughter Luda—she was around Link's age, maybe a little younger—lived there, too.

“Maybe he's asleep and I shouldn't bother him,” Link said, even though he knew it wasn't true. Renado was a night owl, sleeping only when strictly necessary.

“It'll be fine!” Midna swept into his shadow, finally leaving him alone. “I'm going to sleep now. Don't worry and just be yourself.”

Link took deep breaths, steadying his racing heart before knocking on Renado's front door. Nothing happened, and Link almost turned away, when the door opened to reveal Renado himself.

“Hello,” he said simply, opening the door wider. “I didn't expect to see you here tonight.”

Renado was in his pajamas rather than his usual robes, his long hair disheveled. Behind him burned a low fire, a long curtain set up in the middle of the room. Probably to invoke some semblance of privacy between the living area and the bedroom.

Needless to say, it didn't really work.

“Golden fairy lights led me here,” Link said. “I thought I would answer their call.”

“The children are sleeping,” Renado whispered. “So we'll have to be quiet.”

Link walked inside after him. It was the same as he remembered, the same wooden carvings hanging on the wall. Each of them depicted the Hero of the Skies in various stages of his journey. Maybe it was the expectation of it all that kept Link from achieving true greatness—how could he ever match his past life in any way? Link was just himself. Nothing more and nothing less.

“Go ahead and make yourself at home,” Renado said. “You must be weary from your travels.”

Link sat down near the fire, letting it warm his weary bones. He was so tired—he hadn't truly slept in what felt like ages.

Renado sat across from him. “Tell me, Tatl, why you've chosen to return now.”

“I told you the golden fairy lights brought me here.” Link shrugged, knowing he sounded like some loon. He just couldn't help himself sometimes. “And I guess there's a lot I still need to say.”

“You should be proud of yourself,” Renado said. “You saved Darbus and relieved Hyrule of the Twilight. I always suspected you were the hero reborn, Tatl. You had that way about you. And I am in awe to be sitting in the same room as you right now.”

“But I treated people terribly to get where I needed to go,” Link said. “Because of that, how can I be happy with who I am now? How could you possibly have any faith in me left?”

Renado sighed. “Tatl…”

“Please, call me Link.” He spoke a little too loud, and he heard a rustling beyond the curtain. The children were obviously light sleepers; after being stolen by Shadow Beasts, they had to be.

“I've never begrudged you,” Renado whispered. “When you left and I discovered my Rupees were missing, I understood that you took them because you felt there was no other option.”

“I'll repay you,” Link said. “I'll do anything I can.”

Renado's daughter, Luda, parted the curtain, poking her head out. “The Ordonian children are inquiring after Tatl. They recognize his voice and know he's in here with you.”

“Tell them to wait.” Renado stood up from the floor, giving Link a searching look. “But you may speak to him, if you wish.”

Luda walked in, holding up the curtain for Renado as he went in to explain what was going on to the children. Excited voices rose and fell, and Renado promptly told them to shush.

The curtain fell, and Link was reminded that the only light in the room was the low fire burning in the center. Stars shone through the skylight, the thin lines of smoke disappearing into the outside world.

“Father tells me you're the hero,” Luda said. Her black hair was short, barely reaching her chin. “But he's told me many things, only half of which are true. Who are you really?”

“I didn't come here to exchange pleasantries,” Link said curtly. “I'm after something.”

“Aren't you always?” Luda sat down next to him, taking his hand in hers. Her eyes were intense. “You are forever wanting after something. When you came here, you were after a makeshift family that would treat you well for whatever amount of time suited you best. When you left, you wanted us to hate you.”

Link somehow managed to regret coming here even more. Midna was supposedly sleeping, but he knew better. She was listening to every word. All of it was so exciting for her, wasn't it?

Or maybe she was listening because she cared. Link hoped it was that. He hoped it so badly that it hurt.

“What do you want this time?” Luda continued. “Father believes the best of you. The children beyond the curtain believe the best of you. But I don't, and I never will again.”

Luda kissed him on the cheek as a goodbye, then stood up from the ground. She left him without another word, the curtain swishing behind her. Quiet murmurs stretched, childish voices wanting to know who the visitor really was.

Shadows played the room, slaves to the light of the fire. Link watched them dance. He wasn't sure what he expected by coming here, but it wasn't that. It wasn't Renado's forgiveness or Luda's clear disapproval. It was something else, something nobody could ever really give him.

“That girl's a trip,” Midna said, yawning as she rose from his shadow. “What's her problem?”

“She hates me and always has.” Link continued to watch the fire. He should probably leave—he had no right to stay here, not really. “And she probably already knew I was coming before I ever did.”

“She has traces of our magic,” Midna admitted. She inspected the wood carvings adorning the walls, running her fingers over the crude swirls and shapes. “So did that man. When those who had the power to control magic were banished into the Twilight Realm, some people became very good at pretending they didn't have any magic at all.”

“Princess Zelda can control magic,” Link reminded her. “So can I. Why weren't we banished?”

“We?” Midna barked out a laugh. “Princess Zelda of old and the Hero of Skies are dead. You two are completely different people, although tied to the same thread of existence.”

“However you want to call it, we were dangerous. One of us could have easily become evil.”

Midna looked ready to snap at him when the curtain opened. Renado stepped through.

“You're still here?” He looked around, eyes ghosting over Midna. “Who were you speaking to?”

“I'm on the way out, actually.” Link took a deep breath. “And I was speaking to no one.”

Renado smiled. “Behind one of the carvings in this room is something that may prove useful. Before you leave, maybe you should check it out.”

The curtain closed, and Renado was gone yet again. The fire died, giving one burst of bright light before fading away entirely.

“He's crazy,” Midna said. “What could he possibly—”

“Give me some light.” Link jumped up, climbing on top of a bookshelf to reach the carvings. Sadly, he didn't have the power to float around like Midna did.

“Why would I, a creature of the Twilight, have a light on hand?” Midna snapped her fingers regardless, creating a small flame that hovered in the palm of her hand.

“How did you enter the Light Realm, Midna?”

“By the power of the Mirror of Twilight, obviously.” Midna rolled her eyes as Link pulled one of the carvings from the wall. “It bridges our worlds, but it was broken in half years ago—”

The next carving, which depicted the Hero of the Skies marrying Princess Zelda, was removed from the wall. A shard of glass was stuck to the wall behind it, glinting in the dark.

“Oh,” Midna uttered. “That's—”

“The bridge between our worlds. Or at least, a part of it.” Link reached out to touch it, hissing in pain when it burned his fingers. The front of his hand turned purple, decorated with white lines. Similar to the ones covering Midna's body.

“Don't touch it,” Midna said softly, knowing very well her warning came too late. The purple and white lines didn't fade, and Link marveled down at it. “It'll turn you into a Twili.”

“Can this mirror be destroyed?” Link asked.

“Only royalty can do it.” The flame disappeared, and along with it, Link could no longer see the Twilight on his skin.

“If it's destroyed, Zant won't be able to enter this world anymore,” Link muttered. “He won't be able to hurt us. Right?”

Midna lit the flame again. She looked sad, like she had lived a thousand years. “Your world isn't the only problem, Link. The Twilight Realm is in danger as well. When I met you in that prison cell, it wasn't just to torture you. I needed you to kill Zant for me.”

“Then why don't you just take me there?”

Midna touched the mirror shard, and it disappeared to the same place his sword had went. “Because you'll become a Twili. A Light Dweller's spirit is too weak to cross the broken line between worlds. And nobody knows where the other half even is…”

“What if we find it? Maybe I can pass through the Mirror in its entirely and save both of our worlds. And even it still turns me into a Twili, I don't really care.”

Midna turned away from him. Her shoulders shook. But Midna didn't cry. Link didn't think she was even capable of doing something like that. “Let's just leave, okay?”

“But—”

“I want to leave. Can you stop talking for one minute?”

Link hopped off the shelves. They were probably scared silly beyond the curtain, hearing their supposed hero talking to himself all night. The sun was rising now, bathing the sky blue.

Midna disappeared into his shadow. Sacrifices had to be made for the sake of the world. That was true, they both knew it, but that didn't mean they had to like it.

Chapter Text

When Link attempted to leave Kakariko Village, the sacred grove replaced Hyrule Field. Rather than the sword pedestal from before, the broken Mirror of Twilight stood proudly in the center of the Triforce. There was one piece broken out of it, a piece that the mirror shard they found back at Renado's would fit perfectly into.

Midna handed him the Master Sword. “Apparently, I don't make the decisions when it comes to where we're going; the golden fairy lights do. I needed to tell you something about your forehead, Link.”

“My forehead?”

“You don't have to repeat everything I say. In the Twilight Realm, only true royalty are born with that marking.”

“I wasn't born with it,” Link reminded her. “It was forced upon me. You can't convince that I'm supposed to be a king or something; I don't believe it.”

Midna sighed. “I would have never believed my intended husband was a Light Dweller, but here we are.”

Link fought against his rising fear, but it rose nonetheless. “Am I destined to become a Twili?”

Midna laughed. The mirror shard twirled atop her hand. “No, nothing like that. My people would hate having to serve a Light Dweller; so obviously, we could never marry.”

Link stared down at the Twilight staining his palm, the gray and white lines with purple threaded throughout it. “I need time to think. I wish I could speak to the Hero of Skies. Maybe he would help me understand.”

“You can speak to him anytime you want to. Especially in this place.” Midna looked near tears again, and that unsettled Link more than anything else. “Maybe you should take a break. I don't want you to run off into the Twilight Realm like an idiot and get yourself killed. But I also don't know how much time we have to wait before Zant tries something else.”

Link looked at the Mirror of Twilight. It sat on a black podium, raised up towards the sky. The mirror itself, however broken, looked innocent enough. It didn't look like something that could create a bridge between worlds. “The Hero of the Skies broke the cycle when he killed the great evil of his time,” Link said offhandedly. “When Zant is killed, will my journey be over as well?”

Midna brushed away her tears. “See, that's the problem. I'm afraid that you don't want to kill Zant for the right reasons. He covered the land in Twilight, sure, but who did that really hurt besides those accursed Light Spirits?”

“The King of Hyrule is dead, Midna. So is the Queen of Zoras. And what about Ralis and Zelda and everyone else?”

The tears disappeared. Anger took their place, her eyes burning a deep red. “It's just terrible, isn't it? Zant hurt me, too, you know. We were supposed to be married. He was only a commoner, but I loved him nonetheless. The day of our marriage, he turned me into an imp and told me he wanted to reclaim the Light Realm for himself.”

Link thought about all that Midna had said, the Master Sword weighing down his hand. Maybe he didn't want to kill Zant for the right reasons. But did it really matter? He just wanted all of this to be over. That was all he had ever wanted in his entire life.

“There's no use talking any longer,” Link said, forcing his voice to be cold. Too fraught with emotion, and Midna would be in tears all over again. He was sure of it. “I think it's time to enter the Twilight. And didn't you promise to keep me safe? Why should I be afraid?”

Midna swept over to the podium where the Mirror of Twilight stood. She laid the mirror shard over the broken piece, and it began to glow as it made the Mirror of Twilight whole once again.

“Remember this, Link,” Midna said. “Sometimes running away from your past isn't the answer. Even though the memories hurt, even though you know what you did was wrong, forgetting all of it will keep you from overcoming it.”

The Mirror of Twilight expanded and covered the ground. The Triforce twisted in the middle of it, and it was like a gear, turning and shifting and crackling into a different world.

“Whatever happens in the Twilight Realm,” Midna said. “I'll keep you safe. Remember that.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Link noticed was the cold. It was strange; it covered his body and permeated his entire existence.

“Wake up, Link!” Midna begged. “Please, don't leave me now. Not after everything.”

Link blinked. The purple sky of the Twilight Realm was oppressive, a cold rain washing over him. His mind was all garbled; words wouldn't come to him.

Midna touched his forehead. “Please,” she whispered. “I need you to help me; only the hero can save my people.”

Other lifeforms surrounded them, Link realized. Twili mourned and cried in anguish. Midna was crying, laying her head on his chest. Her tears mingled with the rain, making his skin tingle.

Link petted her hair. There really wasn't anything he could do. In the Light Realm, Midna had been protected by the Fused Shadow, then by Zelda. In the Twilight Realm, Link had nothing.

After all of this, after everything, was this how he would finally die?

“What are you doing!” Midna screeched as the Twili wandered closer. She lifted up into the air, throwing out her hands. “Don't touch him!”

They were Shadow Beasts, Link realized. They were no longer Twili, but gnarled versions of themselves. Midna began to cry uncontrollably. Link knew her well enough to know that she could never hurt the Shadow Beasts; they were her people, after all.

The Shadow Beasts crowded around Link's body, their fingers prodding his forehead. One of them grabbed his wrist, inspecting his Triforce.

Midna sobbed. “Don't do this,” she whimpered. “Don't you remember me?”

The Shadow Beasts stopped touching him. They stood stony and silent, but at least they were no longer touching him. They each began to wail, crying out to the heavens above.

But nobody could help them, not like this. Not with their princess as an imp and the hero dying on the ground.

Midna produced the Shadow Crystal. It shone vehemently in the darkness, and even though Link shook his head, Midna pressed it to his forehead regardless.

He became a wolf cruelly and slowly. But at least he was alive. At least he would be alive a little while longer.

“Once we find a Sol,” Midna whispered, petting the top of his head. She smoothed his fur, her hands trembling. “You can survive in the Twilight Realm without being a wolf.”

Link walked forward. The Palace of Twilight stood in the distance, every rich shade of purple and gray. It was a magnificent building; in some aspects, it was more impressive than Hyrule Castle itself.

“The Sols are the suns of the Twilight Realm,” Midna explained. “Zant has hidden them away so the Shadow Beasts cannot return to their true forms.”

The gates to the palace were sealed shut, but Midna opened them with a flick of her wrist. Shadows Beasts lurked along the path but never moved to hurt them.

Link's insides felt all shaken up—like he'd been turned upside down and shook until everything was sloshed around and messed up. Midna petted his fur, easing him somewhat, but it did little for the shock.

He had never wanted to be a wolf again.

The palace was made entirely of black marble. Thick, purple curtains were hung over each of the windows, making the palace darker than it probably should have been. With no sun in the Twilight Realm, no Sol, the palace was a strange sort of darkness. It wasn't entirely black; it was gauzy and incomplete.

“My childhood home,” Midna murmured. “How could it be made to feel like we're walking straight into a lion's den?”

She hopped off his back, lifting up one of the curtains. Rather than a window hidden behind it, there was secret passageway.

Link wandered in after her. She had a flame dance on her finger, similar to the one she held at Renado's. It already felt like a lifetime ago. Their conversations—their attachment. It was all a lifetime ago, something that was already gone.

“The Sols are the sun of the Twilight Realm,” Midna said again, her voice soft in the darkness. “When my people were sent here, we struggled to survive without any form of light.”

The passageway emptied into a nursery. Dolls and toys were strewn across the floor, cribs set up. It looked like the room had been abandoned—the remnants of daily life littered it, dirty plates and wrinkled clothes.

Midna opened up a toy chest, digging through it one-handedly. She never let the flame die. “So my ancestors devised a plan to harness that light for themselves,” she continued. “Two Sols were created as a result. But they are only magical objects and nothing more, not organic like the sun of the Light Realm.”

She unearthed a blue orb. It cast light on her face, threaded through her hair. She grinned.

“Only one Sol is needed, contrary to popular belief. On the day Zant cast me away, he destroyed both the phony Sol and the real one. Why would we have two fundamental pieces of the world out in the open like that? Before I left for the Light Realm, I hid this Sol away. My father had entrusted it to me the day he died.”

Link closed his eyes at the harsh light, but Midna brought the Sol nearer regardlessly. His wolf form shed away for the last time, and he opened his eyes to look into hers. She pressed the orb into his hands.

“Keep that close, wolf boy,” she whispered. “You're still not safe here. And Zant will notice us soon.”

Link ran his fingers over the Sol, over the veins of magic that pulsed throughout it.

“When I'm myself again, will you be mine?” Midna shook her head, laughing. “Never mind, I don't even know why I asked that.”

“Midna,” Link said. “Tell me your history. I can only be yours if I know who you are, and I don't.”

“But what do I know about you?”

Link held the Sol closer. He wanted to know about her more than he wanted to talk about himself—he still felt so tired, like he could sleep a thousand years and not even notice.

“Fine,” Midna snapped. She produced the Master Sword, handing it off to him. “I'll tell you. Just promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“That when all of this is over, you won't forget about me.”

Link smiled. “Forget about you? That's impossible.”

“Good.”

Suddenly, a voice crackled in the air. “Sorry to spoil this moment between lovers,” Zant said. He dropped from the ceiling, his robes falling over Link and obscuring his vision. “But it's time to separate you two.”

Link took advantage of his sword, doing his best to slash through the thick fabric while also holding onto the Sol for dear life. But the fabric seemed never ending, constricting Link in its impenetrable black.

“The hero will fulfill his destiny today,” Midna said, voice ringing through the darkness. “You shall finally meet your death, Zant, and you should do it with grace.”

The orb burned a brilliant shade of blue, and the fabric disappeared. The nursery and its contents were gone. Midna hovered in the center of a throne room, hands lifted almost in prayer.

“Stop spewing your nonsense!” Zant growled. He took Link's hand, roughly puling him to stand beside him.

The Sol began to burn into Link's skin, completely fading away as it entered his bloodstream. Zant held Link closer, twisting his arm painfully as the magic consumed him from the inside out.

“How do you choose this boy over me, Midna? He's nothing but skin and bones, a product of everything our people despise.”

“Let go of him,” Midna whispered. “You're hurting him.”

Zant twisted Link's arm so hard he could feel the bones break and crack. He screamed and struggled, but Zant still didn't let him go.

“Why do you believe in this boy so dearly?” Zant asked. “He's a liar! Who is he? Nohansen? Tatl? Colin? Link? Or is he nothing?”

Zant pushed Link away from him, leaving him to writhe on the ground with one arm broken and the power of the Sol eating him through.

“How do you know those names?” Midna asked calmly, far more calmly than the situation warranted.

“Do you think I've done all of this alone?” Zant laughed cruelly, producing yet another robe. He threw it on top of Link, and it wrapped around him so that he couldn't see anything but inky black, their voices muffled beyond the walls of fabric.

“There is a power much greater than my own,” he seethed. “Do you think the hero and the princess were the only two beings to be reincarnated?”

Link struggled to be free of the robes. Zant ripped it away, laughing at Link's struggling. “How pathetic!” he laughed. “The hero, being reduced to this! As long as my true master is alive, the curse on the Twilight Princess will never fade.”

Midna screamed, unleashing power so strong that the room was overwhelmed with bright purple. The four pieces of the Fused Shadow clattered to the ground where Zant once stood, and Midna dropped from the air to gather them. She let them fade away.

“You're the light,” Midna said simply. “The Sol was scared because Zant killed its brother. And it recognized your magic, so it's chosen you as its home for awhile.”

The Sol felt like it crawling all over him. It was worse than when Impa released the power of the Triforce. At least he had been expecting the pain.

Midna laid down on his chest, curling into a ball like a cat. “You'll be alright,” she promised. “Whoever Zant was talking about, we can take care of him, too.”

Link closed his eyes, and darkness took everything.

Chapter Text

Morning sunlight poured in. Link watched it, not understanding. Everything felt like a dream, jumbled and messed up. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“Colin? Are you awake?”

Link could barely lift his head. But there was a woman leaning over him, patting his forehead with a wet cloth.

Agitha.

Link tried to speak, but couldn't. Thick, white bandages braced his broken arm, but the pain felt dull, almost nonexistent.

Telma walked into the picture, her face all pinched together. “Do you remember me?”

“He looks all confused.” Ilia wandered over. “Like he doesn't recognize any of us at all.”

“Well, considering he's been passed out for weeks now, isn't that to be expected?” Agitha pouted. “Give Prince Colin a break.”

“Come on,” Ilia said, taking his hand in hers. “Say something. Anything.”

His voice felt like it tore through his throat, and it didn't sound any better. “Where am I?”

“Castle Town,” Telma supplied. “Agitha found you passed out in the alley behind her house. She brought you to my bar.”

Link struggled to sit up with only one arm, declining Ilia's attempts to help. “I need to leave,” he said. “I can't be here.”

Agitha laughed. “Don't be silly, Colin. You've had a terrible fever and have been on some heavy medication. You're not going anywhere.”

Telma pushed him back onto the bed. “Rest, Link. Or Tatl. Or whoever you are.” She smirked. “Just rest easy.”

“Besides, it must be hard being the hero.” Ilia dug her nails into his hand. “No matter how hard you try, you'll never be anything other than what you are. A liar.”

The bright sunlight faded. Rain beat down, pelting his skin. Link blinked, disoriented, as the dream faded away. Midna had braced his arm with some sticks and old cloth, faintly reminiscent of the curtains that were hanging in the Palace of Twilight.

“Are you finally awake?” Midna asked. “You've been mumbling and carrying on for hours now.”

“I had a dream,” Link mumbled.

“Well, time for you to stop dreaming. Hyrule Castle is on lock down. Some fool has been masquerading as Zelda and putting out orders while we've been transversing Hyrule like a pair of idiots.” Midna floated above him. She pointed up at the Hyrule Castle, which was covered in a forcefield of magic. It was thick and orange, resembling a diamond in shape.

Link sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “Zant broke my sword arm, Midna. I'm not ready to go out and fight some great evil.”

Midna brushed tears from her eyes. Or maybe it was the rain. It was hard to be sure. “You'll never be ready, Link. All your life, you've been preparing for a destiny that never arrived. Don't you understand?”

Link didn't answer. He didn't want this. It was too much. All of it was just too much for him, and he didn't know what to do.

“Are you crying?” Midna flitted around nervously. “Please don't cry, Link. I don't know if I can take it.”

“Tell me about yourself,” Link asked, the tears burning his eyes. “Please. Tell me everything. Before it's too late and something happens and you can't.”

Midna sat down beside him. “We don't have time. When I tell you to go, I need you to go. There's an evil waiting for us in Hyrule Castle, and if it remains, this entire country will be destroyed.”

“Is that really so bad?” Link asked, and it felt so wrong to say it, so wrong and so cruel. Heroes weren't supposed to turn their back on their country. “The people won't even notice. I feel like—like I've done all of this for nothing, Midna.”

Lightning split the sky. “Nothing? How can you say that!” She moved across the field, towards the castle, and Link struggled to his feet.

He ran after her, even though he wasn't ready. But would he really ever be?

*

Walking into the castle wasn't right. It didn't feel right. He watched Midna destroy the forcefield covering the castle, watched as it fell and crumbled away, but it still didn't feel right.

It was his home, wasn't it? A place he must have loved once. He remembered Midna saying that a childhood home shouldn't feel like a lion's den. And he agreed with her, he really did—but what if it had always felt like one?

The front doors opened far too easily. Maybe they had always opened like that. But as a child, Link had felt so confined to its walls and to its strict rules. How could they just walk in, like it was nothing, when it was everything?

Princess Zelda stood in the center of the throne room. But it wasn't Zelda. It was a person masquerading to be her, just as Midna had promised.

Link held his sword in the opposite hand, his arm still painfully broken. The numbness was fading and the pain felt sharp, and Link remembering being young and thinking that final battles only took place when both parties were fully prepared. Not like this. Not with him tired and injured and not prepared at all.

The fake Princess Zelda smiled, walking towards Link with a certainty. As if she actually knew him—not only knew him, but knew him well.

“We meet again, hero,” she said, but not with her voice. This wasn't the girl who kissed him in the grass, the girl he had denied time and time again.

“I don't remember meeting you,” Link said. He looked around the throne room—it was nearly parallel to the one in the Palace of Twilight. Blue curtains replaced the purple. White stone replaced the black. But more or less, it was the same.

Midna floated up, crossing her arms. “Are you supposed to be the next great evil?”

The fake Princess Zelda laughed. “I met you once as well. Midna—just another reincarnation of the countless guides the hero had running after him time and time again.”

Link didn't know why he felt so calm. He didn't feel the need to attack right now, which he knew was foolish—he could easily be taken out like this. By just standing there with no attempt at fighting.

“There have only been two heroes,” Link said plainly.. “The Hero of the Skies broke the cycle when he defeated the great evil of his time. I'm the second to have ever been born.”

“You sound like you're reciting a textbook!” A long sword formed in the false princess's hand. She brandished it, looking at it hungrily.

Link took a step back.

“My name is Demise, but I have been known as other names. The same as you have. Lately I have preferred the name Ganondorf.”

The long sword clattered to the floor. And Ganondorf swished his skirts. “I do not wish to harm you hero. I wish to talk. The cycle could never be broken. There have been other heroes, other guides. Even if they were not chosen by the goddess, as you like to say, they still existed. Each have destroyed me; each time I have been reborn.”

Ganondorf lifted his hand, and Link watched in horror as Midna made a choking sound. Not because she was choking, but because he wasn't doing anything about it. He should have been diving into action—should have been fighting for his life, for Midna's life—but he wasn't.

Ganondorf wasn't out for blood, but for something else. Maybe Link knew that. Or maybe all of his humanity had leeched away before he'd ever had a chance to notice.

Midna hit the floor, and she turned to shadows as light burst from her. Princess Zelda—the true Princess Zelda, not the false one—laid on the ground beside her. The two princesses looked almost peaceful like that, even though it shouldn't have felt peaceful.

And Link—he felt rooted to the spot.

“The first hero was so much more emotional.” Ganondorf morphed to his true form, his hair long and red, his body covered in heavy armor. “You stand there like a ghost. Don't you want your friends to be okay?”

“I want this to end,” Link said, lifting up the Master Sword with a shaky hand. It felt so flimsy compared to Ganondorf's two broad ones, their blades gleaming and menacing. “Aren't you tired of history repeating itself? I know I am.”

Ganondorf swung his swords, and Link braced himself, but they never made contact. They almost encased him in a shell. One wrong step, one flinch, and he'd be dead.

“Hero chosen by the goddess herself,” Ganondorf said in a sing-song voice. “The chosen one. The light. The savior of Hyrule.” Ganondorf grinned. “Whoever are, whoever you want to be, you have the power to end me if you wish. The Twilight Princess will be restored to her true self once I'm dead. You will live free of me for the rest of time, or at least, until another evil rises to take my place.”

The blades pressed in closer, and Link felt them prick his skin. But he didn't feel afraid.

“You have so much power, hero. But you hold it back. What are you're afraid of? Kill me now. Let the cycle repeat itself for centuries. Even the Triforce wasn't powerful enough to end what the goddess started thousands of years ago.”

Link closed his eyes, feeling the blades cut deeper. “It doesn't matter which one of us dies today,” he said. “Either way, the cycle will continue. And either way, Hyrule will continue, just as it is. You're not nearly as powerful as you think you are.”

The swords began to shake in Ganondorf's hands, and he withdrew them for a moment, giving Link a break from the pain.

“Kill me,” Link said. “It's the only way. Give the legends something else to talk about.”

Chapter Text

Princess Zelda roused herself, crying out in horror when she saw Link standing between swords. One wrong move, and he would be dead.

Just one wrong move.

Zelda had prayed to the goddess many times. May it be for guidance, or for some foolish want. And seeing the hero so vulnerable—it drove her to pray again.

A bow and arrows formed in her hands, imbued with the purest light. Ganondorf didn't even notice that Zelda was awake, rambling on about something to Link. She had never seen Link act this way, standing so still when his life was literally on a knife's edge.

Zelda's fingers shook on the bow, but then Midna was there, steadying her hands. “Kill him,” she hissed. “The hero obviously won't.”

The arrow flew, pure light, and it hit Ganondorf square in the chest. He screamed in outrage, and the swords crashed down on Link but crumbled apart as soon as they made contact with his skin.

The veins of the Sol decorated Link's body, a pulsing purple, and he cried out at the sudden pain.

“What?” Ganondorf stared down at his empty palms, then to the whimpering Link. Princess Zelda readied another arrow, but there was no need.

The purple faded, and Link's whimpers ceased, and the Sol materialized before him. The mark faded from his forehead. His eyes were blue.

And the nothingness that was there only moments ago was gone, replaced with firm resolve.

It seemed to all go in slow motion, as Link slammed the Sol into Ganondorf's stomach, who screamed when the power make his skin dissolve. Ganondorf grabbed onto Link's legs as he fell, and Zelda could smell his flesh burning and could hear Link's harsh screams.

Then Ganondorf was gone. And they were all in the throne room, Link standing very still with the Sol in his hand.

Midna cried out in anguish as Link crumpled to the ground. But Zelda felt very still.

It was all over. The Sol rolled over the floor, ready to reclaim the Twilight Realm. And even if the hero was dead, at least he had finally fulfilled his purpose.

At least it was finally over.

Chapter Text

Midna was sure he was dead. There was no way the hero could survive that, no way he could go from Hylian to beast without losing himself entirely.

Maybe it was better this way. Better for the hero, at least, but it wouldn't be better for her. The legends had spoken of the hero as a divine beast, but he wasn't divine in any of the ways that mattered.

He had a broken arm and burned legs and deep cuts that should have killed him but hadn't. He had been burning with fever for nearly a week, missing Zelda's grand coronation and missing the joy that swept over Hyrule like a plague.

And Midna had to go back and forth between realms like it was her job. And in a way, it was. She had to go home to her people, she really did—but she also had to be by Link's side. Had to make sure he was okay.

Telma found it amusing, thinking Midna was just some admirer, which she wasn't. And Agitha giggled, thinking she was his secret wife, which she kind of was.

The legends would all be misconstrued. But Midna knew the truth. The hero had been royalty and a commoner, a liar and a thief. He had been Colin, the loved son of Uli and Rusl, then he had been nothing.

But he had been everything to her.

Link looked pitiful all bandaged up, breathing shallowly and with sweat covering his brow. He looked absolutely pitiful, and did Midna ask to love him?

No, she hadn't.

On the fifth day of his never ending fever, Princess Zelda came to visit. She was dressed in all her finery, somehow managing to look even more pitiful than Link with her own dreary expression.

“Once he heals,” she said, looking down at Link with a frown. “I want him to live at Hyrule Castle with me. It will be what is best. And then you can return to the Twilight Realm without worrying about him.”

Midna bit down her anger. As if Zelda had the right to worry—she hadn't been the one sitting here everyday, wishing he would finally wake up. And she hadn't been the one to go through everything with him.

Midna had been the one to do that.

“I'll always worry about him,” Midna said, happy that her voice didn't crack. It was still strange getting used to her body, the way it used to be. Still strange to see Link so small and weak.

She wished he would wake up. She wanted to know what he would say when he saw her. And she wanted to know what he would think. Would he laugh? Or would he think she was beautiful?

“Sorry,” Midna said after a long moment. “I'm going to leave as soon as his fever breaks. If he sees me now, it will make our parting much harder than necessary.”

Zelda smoothed back Link's hair, and Midna resisted the urge to brush her hand away. But she knew it wasn't her place.

“As soon as his fever breaks,” Midna promised, “I'm going to leave. Is that enough for you?”

Zelda nodded. “Of course it is. And thank you, Midna. My people will forever be in debt to you for all that you have done for our kingdom.”

“I know," Midna muttered. "If it weren't for me, the hero would still be dead.”

*

“I won't,” Link said. “I won't feel sorry for what I've done.”

The Hero of the Skies laughed. “But so many others… they want you to feel your worst. Don't you know that?”

“Of course I do.”

The Hero of the Skies had provided them a pleasant place to talk. Up in the clouds, on a island that had once housed a burgeoning civilization.

Now the island was in ruins. The buildings were decrepit and falling down, the flora overtaking them.

“Once upon a time, the goddess, Hylia, gave me a choice,” the hero said. “She offered to let me rule the world with her as an immortal, or to live out the rest of my human life with all of its flaws.”

Link looked down at the clouds, the endless sea of them. It felt like home, somehow. “What did you choose?”

“My decision isn't what matters. It's yours.” The hero took Link's hands in his own, staring down at the mark of the Triforce they shared. “Tell me, Link. Do you want to live in Hyrule or stay in the silent realms with me?”

The scenery shifted. Midna was sitting beside a hospital bed. She was beautiful, Link thought. No longer cursed, her body was long and graceful.

She was holding his hand, humming some song she must have picked up somewhere.

“Do you love her?” the hero asked.

Link thought about it. “Does it matter? She's the Twilight Princess. I'm just a hero.”

The scenery shifted again. The expanse of clouds, the endless blue sky. “I suppose you've made your choice, Link. Enter the world of the living.” The hero smiled, completely unabashed.

Link wished he could be more like him.

“We will meet again,” the hero promised, as the scene faded away and the warmth of his skin withdrew. “I promise that we will meet again.”

*

Link opened his eyes to an empty room. No Midna at his bedside. The humming was mysteriously absent.

Just an empty room.

He sat up, even though it hurt and his entire body felt battered and bruised.

The room was very dark. He couldn't see anything but the hazy outlines of furniture and—

“Midna?” he called out.

“Be quiet!” she hissed, clapping her hand over his mouth. “I'm not supposed to be here!”

Midna sat behind him, wrapping her legs around his torso. And Link thrashed, even though he couldn't do much with his broken arm. Midna twisted the other one behind his back, but he noticed her grip was weak.

“I need to tell you something,” she said in her sing-song voice. “I'm leaving to the Twilight Realm. And we're not going to see each other again.”

She let go of his mouth. Link stared into the darkness, trying to process everything. He couldn't be hearing her right. He just couldn't.

“Never?”

“Do you always have to repeat what I say?” Midna ran her hands down his sides, making Link feel relaxed despite everything. “Yes, Link. I'm leaving. It's for the best.”

“What am I going to do?” Link asked. “I didn't have an identity before you. I didn't even know who I was. Without you, I'll be that boy without a name again.”

Midna let him go entirely. “And that's why this is for the best. You have to find yourself, Link. Really find yourself. And that can only be done without me there."

Without Midna holding him up, Link felt close to passing out. Maybe it was from his injuries. Maybe it was from the shock of it all. But all that mattered was that Midna noticed, helping him so he was lying down on the bed again.

“Maybe we will see each other again,” she whispered, her lips grazing his. “Maybe. I guess we'll have to find out, won't we?”