Chapter Text
Castle Town was the busiest place Link had ever seen; it was to the Bazaar as the Bazaar had been to Link's jungle village. Hylians hurried to and fro all around them, like the current of a stream. Vendors called their wares from bright-striped market stalls, handcarts rattled over the cobbles; children ran laughing and shouting, pushing their way through the crowds.
At his side, Dragmir looked less impressed, which was surprising, given that he had spent most of his life living in a remote hillside smallholding.
"Not to your taste?" he asked.
"Hm," Dragmir responded, side-eyeing the chaos of the street and then looking down at his feet. "It is not as clean as the Sacred City; I can see why all of the Hylians wear shoes. Nor is the architecture as pleasing to the eye."
"Oh, you've been? I'd love to see it some day."
"You cannot. Entrance is forbidden to voe—to males."
Link raised his eyebrows, and Dragmir flushed slightly.
"It is an uninteresting story. Oh look, a vendor of hot pies. Should we stop to eat?"
Now that food had been mentioned, Link's stomach gave an obliging gurgle. "We should probably find an inn to wash the dust off. We've been on the road a while."
Freshened up, they sat at a table by the window to eat their pies. Dragmir had placed his back to the room, and was doing a good job of seeming unbothered by the open stares he was receiving from the Hylians in the room. Link had no idea how much was facade or reality; his new friend still kept his emotions sheathed tight like a knife on his arm. He chewed, letting the rich savory flavors of beef and onion melt onto his tongue as he thought.
"Perhaps I should go to the Castle alone, to begin with," he ventured once he'd swallowed.
Dragmir's eyes narrowed as he looked up.
"It's just... the Hylians seem pretty distrustful of any Gerudo presence in their city—"
"I am not Gerudo," Dragmir interrupted flatly, hand clenched around his knife.
"I don't think they appreciate your... difference of opinion with the Gerudo leadership. You still look the part. I'm just saying, I'm a neutral party here. Maybe they'll listen to me more easily."
Dragmir sat back in the wooden chair, which creaked plaintively under his considerable weight.
"You may have a point," he said, begrudgingly. "If you go alone to seek audience, we may have more luck. But I wish to be present when you actually speak to the Queen."
Link nodded. That was probably as good as he was going to get. He swigged the last of his weak ale.
"Let's go, then."
"So... what's the deal with the whole Hero thing anyway?" Groose asked, a few days into the journey when they were almost out of Faron. Once he was at least fifty percent sure Impa wouldn't breathe fire on him just for asking. The other Sheikah were out of earshot, keeping watch or cleaning up after dinner.
Startled crimson eyes met his own over the campfire. "You don't know of the prophecy?"
"The prophecy, sure," he blustered. "Assassins and... doom, and all that. Totally... on board with the prophecy. I just meant, you know... what's the Hero meant to do exactly?"
Her gaze hadn't moved an inch. "To fight the darkness."
Talking to her was like trying to crawl through a thorn bush, backwards. "Darkness, got it. But.... how? You can't stick a sword in darkness. Not with like, a normal sword, anyway."
"The darkness is metaphorical," she said, slowly, as though talking to a child. "The Goddess Sword is to be wielded against the Great Beast. In conjunction with the Queen's divine powers, the Beast can be sealed away in the dark realm once more, until its power breaks through again in a new age."
Fighting a beast? Oh. That didn't sound too hard. Maybe he could be the Hero after all. Groose folded his arms under his head, letting the warmth of the fire and the meal in his belly draw his eyes closed. "What kind of beast are we talking about here?"
Impa cocked her head slightly. "That is... a matter of great debate among historians and theologians."
"Bunch of old farts talking wind, gotcha. But hey, I'll stick a sword in any beast you want, babe."
"There's a tapestry in the Sheikah Elder's residence which we believe depicts an incarnation," she offered. "It shows a monstrous boar, wreathed in flame, with hooves as big as a man and tusks like tree trunks."
His eyes sprang back open. "Um. What."
Impa shrugged, the movement just visible in his peripheral vision. "It's possible the form is merely a metaphor, for the Beast's greed and destructive nature. But it may also be literal; so far removed from the original events, who can really say."
Groose laid rigid, looking at the stars long after Impa's breathing had evened out in sleep. Oh, he'd made a terrible mistake.
The camp was suspiciously quiet when Impa woke. She'd taken middle watch, and the lack of sleep dragged on her behind the flawless facade of calm alertness.
"Where is the Hero?"
The scout she'd spoken to looked around as if expecting him to materialize from thin air. "Er... he went to wash up, I think?"
"You think? How long ago was this?"
The nervous look she received was answer enough. She stifled an outburst of rage. She hadn't spent two Goddess-forsaken weeks searching the thick and humid jungle for the Hero only to let him slip through her fingers now. At least none of the horses were missing; he should be easy enough to catch up to.
"Pack up and head out," she snapped as she saddled her horse. "I'll follow once I've retrieved him."
Her mount kept up a quick trot along the trail of boot prints in the muddy shore of the river, but the sense of unease which had plagued Impa since waking only intensified the further she went. And then the prints stopped completely, replaced by hoof prints heading along the fork they'd passed shortly before making camp. What on earth...
A flash of yellow in the undergrowth caught her eye: a discarded banana skin, tangled in the thorns. Cold terror ran down her spine. With a shout, she spurred her horse to the fastest pace she dared on the uneven terrain, a formless prayer to the Goddess looping through her mind as they followed the trail.
Zelda stood before her washbasin, tracing a fingertip over the still surface of the water. Ice bloomed in its wake, turning the basin mirror-glazed. She fixed her gaze on infinity, the same images flashing through the crystal facets. The scenes which had haunted her, since she'd first seen them in the scrying dish.
Her people, mowed down. Hyrule Castle enveloped by dark miasma. The Great Beast stalking the land, corruption spreading in its wake. Rivers choked in corruption; trees withering to husks.
Her parents' murder at the hands of the Yiga Clan had only been the first part of the prophecy to come true. Without some kind of divine intervention, much worse was yet to come. She closed her eyes, blocking out the bright moonlight, but it did nothing to block out the visions, playing over and over in her mind's eye. With an incoherent yell, she swept the bowl from the washstand. It clattered to the floor, wobbling in a decreasing circle before coming to rest.
She was in the library when Astor found her, asking to speak to her in her private study room.
"Your Majesty," he bowed once he got there. "I have been continuing my research, and I have exciting news."
At her look he hurried over to the table and spread out an aging scroll, smoothing it out. He beckoned her over.
"As you know, the academic consensus is that there is a chamber hidden within the Temple, accessible only by those of the royal line. This line here"—he ran a pale finger over the pitted vellum—"makes reference to a divine gift, sealed away under Hylia's watch. Previous scholars have assumed 'under Hylia's watch' to be a reference to the Temple, and the power to be the sword. I have managed to find an earlier account, however. The translation is subtle, but there are very interesting differences."
Nervous anticipation fluttered beneath her ribs. "Astor, pray, do not leave me in such suspense! If you have news, share it. Is the outlook better or worse in light of your discovery?"
Something akin to a smile stretched across his face. "Oh, much better. You see, the older document refers to a gift left by the Goddesses, plural, sealed away by the Goddess Hylia, for all time. Do you see?"
"Under Hylia's watch..." she murmured. "As in, at her command?"
"That is my belief. And the sword was created by Hylia, so the gift left by the golden goddesses must be something else. Something greater."
Zelda inhaled sharply. Could this be the answer to their desperate prayers? A way to prevent the return of the Great Beast, as set into motion by the murder of her parents? She shook away the image of Hyrule Field enveloped in darkness, filled with dead or dying Hylians. That future would not come to pass, while there was still breath in her body.
"If there is indeed some divine gift hidden in the Temple, then we must find it, and use it."
Astor bowed low. "Our need is great, but I know that our Queen shall lead us to greatness."
The lack of sleep dragged at her through the Council meeting that afternoon. She'd spent the time since speaking with Astor praying in the royal chapel, but perhaps claiming a need for private meditation—in order to sneak a nap—would have been a better choice.
"—received word from our southern regiments that the Gerudo have been massing on the far side of the border," Field Marshal Rost was saying. He indicated the region on the map spread out across the table. "We must send a strong response to this."
Zelda kept her face mask-like. A bird of prey, she heard on repeat. "I agree. Give the command to mobilize the western and central regiments to meet them. We can spread the northern regiments more thinly along the border in their absence."
Rost gave a quick nod, looking pleased at the speed of her response.
"Have we any news from Impa?" she asked the Postmaster.
"We have, Your Majesty," the old man replied, his spectacles sliding down his nose as he inclined his head to her. "She reports that their mission was a success, and they expect to be back in Castle Town within the week."
"Send a messenger to intercept them," she instructed. "Have them meet us at the southern outpost; we will head to the Temple together from there."
"'We', Your Majesty?" Rost queried.
"Indeed. I shall ride out with the army. The Gerudo value strength, I am told. Well, I may have the body of a young woman, but the blood of the Goddess runs through my veins."
The two men exchanged a quick look, before both bowed to her.
"Of course," Rost said. "I'll have my aide arrange for an honor guard, and a warhorse."
Link approached the guard at the bridge over the moat. In his peripheral vision, Dragmir lurked with the hood of his traveling cloak up, pretending to browse the wares of a nearby vendor.
The guard held one palm out to stop Link. "Business?" he asked, looking Link up and down with mild curiosity.
"I seek audience with the Queen," Link replied. "I bring important news from Faron which she will wish to hear."
"Yeah, I doubt that," the guard drawled, leaning on his spear to bring his face level with Link's. "There's nothing in Faron but trees and yokels; no such thing as 'important news' from there. You want a close up look at the Queen, you can come back on petition day."
Link's expression tightened. "Surely you should let her decide whether my news is important or not."
The guard shrugged. "As I say, you could try your luck on Wednesday. But it probably won't be the Queen takin' petitions this week."
"Why not?"
"She's off at the front line, isn't she. Prob'ly won't be back in time for it."
Dragmir surged up, hood slipping down and pretense forgotten. "She went to the front line? When was this?"
The guard looked at Dragmir's considerably larger frame and visibly Gerudo features, and paled. "Er. Two days ago? There was a big old parade when she left, didn't you see it?"
The scowl on Dragmir's face deepened, and he whirled away with fists clenched. Link hurried after him, and they'd barely made it around the corner before Dragmir roared with frustration and punched the brick wall.
"Woah, hey!" He pulled Dragmir's fist away, inspecting the knuckles. They were slightly bloodied, and would certainly bruise, but the damage didn't seem too bad.
Dragmir had closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the wall once Link relinquished his hand.
"The Goddesses toy with us," he murmured, voice rough. "Is this punishment, for the sins of a past life? Is this mere sport to them?"
Link sagged against the wall next to him, hands braced behind him. He felt the past weeks dragging on him like tangled vines. What he wouldn't give for a good night's sleep. "I think they left us to our own devices a long time ago. All of the human races are better at creating problems for ourselves than they could ever be."
"A surprisingly somber philosophy for someone normally as chipper as a cactus wren," Dragmir observed.
"Well, it means we have to create our own solutions too," Link replied, pushing himself back off the wall and brushing his tunic off. "If the Queen is at the front, we should be there too."
He made it all the way to the other end of the alley before there was a sigh from behind him, and the sound of bare feet on cobble.
Zelda's sword thudded dully against her thigh as she rode at the front of the castle town regiment. The gorget around her neck pressed uncomfortably, though the armorer assured her the fit was correct; she was simply unused to it. Astor followed in her wake, a blotch of shadow against the blinding gleam of her horse and armor.
She'd questioned the wisdom of being thus armored and armed, given that her combat abilities lay firmly on the magical end of the scale, but her advisors had insisted that given her position as a figurehead, appearances were more important than practicality. Her royal blue cloak was spread over the flanks of her white stallion for similar reasons, despite the early summer warmth. As she rode, it felt like wings trailing behind her.
She wondered whether the ancestor depicted in the stained glass of the royal chapel—some great-great-great-great grandmother—had felt truly at-ease in the elaborate armor, or whether there had been some artistic license involved. She looked down at her gauntleted hands, and flexed the fingers holding onto her reins. In a few hundred years, would people look back on her as some consummate, inspiring warrior Queen?
Ahead, the stone and wood structures of the southern fort were swamped by the acres of canvas tents which had popped up around the edge for the regiments which had already arrived. Zelda's thousand or so troops would swell that further, putting yet more strain on the local area.
She lifted her chin to the horizon as they approached, pulling her shoulders back and her spine straight. Give them the bird of prey they need, she thought to herself. Lead them to victory.
In the central tower, the briefing they received was not reassuring.
"The Gerudo breached our borders yesterday," General Thadd said, cheeks ruddy above his starched collar. He pointed out a route on the map with a stubby finger.
"They've looped around the Plateau, coming in from the west. Their position puts them between us and the Temple of Time."
"Which suggests a leak somewhere in our forces," General Rozen pointed out, arms folded across his chest. "How could they have known you had an urgent errand in the Temple, otherwise?"
"That information hasn't been disseminated beyond the inner circle," Rost mused. "I'm hesitant to jump straight to treason when it could just be happenstance; we'll just scare off any moles, rather than catch them."
"Perhaps the inner circle is not as watertight as we would hope. I'd suggest we question the Spymaster, but she appears to be missing in action," Rozen sneered.
"Enough," Zelda interjected. "Commander Impa is on classified business, and I will not hear such accusations levied against her."
Rozen inclined his head to concede the point, and there was a beat of silence.
"The Gerudo do have the same access to books of legends as we do," Colonel Worten pointed out more diplomatically. His promotion was recent, and he seemed eager to please the equally-new monarch. "Perhaps they guessed at our purpose."
"Perhaps," Zelda replied, tiring of the topic. "Do continue with your briefing, General Thadd."
"They've blown up the main bridge to the east of the Plateau," Thadd said, indicating another point on the map. "Presumably to stop us flanking them. This new Chief of theirs knows what she's doing, for all that she's barely older than you."
"The terrain is favorable to them; we would lose significant numbers in any headlong confrontation," Rost agreed.
"We could attempt to draw them out with some decoy attacks," Worten suggested. "Whittle them down patiently. Our supply lines are better than theirs, they would tire sooner."
Just then a runner knocked and entered the room, saluting all those present before turning to her. "Your Majesty. Commander Impa of the Sheikah has arrived, and wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience."
She dismissed him and turned to her officers. "Perhaps the Goddess smiles upon us after all. For now, hold our position. If the Gerudo attack, attempt to draw them out, but do not proactively engage. Once I return from my mission with the Commander, I believe we will have much more to discuss."
Rozen frowned. "Should we not be involved in the planning of this 'mission'?"
Zelda fixed him with a cold look. "We shouldn't risk it," she told him. "I hear there are concerns of spies in the ranks, after all. Dismissed."
Groose jostled uncomfortably behind Impa as they galloped across the open grassland of central Hyrule. He'd tried holding on, earlier, but Impa had smacked his hands any time they got near her chest and now his knuckles stung something awful and his thighs hurt from clenching.
"Can you slow down?" he tried yelling in her ear, but she just looked back at him.
"No."
Ever since she'd caught up to him on his little stroll—which had definitely not been an attempt at running away, thanks—the Sheikah had been even terser than usual. Apparently there'd been word from the castle and they had a new rendezvous, and a tighter deadline. Groose was pretty sure stopping for a snack or a pee break wasn't going to doom the entire world, but Impa seemed to disagree. What a slave-driver.
Eventually, butt-sore and wind-chapped, they cantered into an army camp bigger than anything he could ever have imagined. All of the village's warriors could have fit into any of the larger tents in the middle of the chaos. The village itself would fit in the massive central building, if you put all the houses next to each other. The tower rising up from it must be where the Queen was; there was some kind of flag flying from the pole, with a kind of stylized bird holding something in its claws.
Impa did finally let him stop at one of the camp fires for a bite to eat and a piss before taking him to meet the Queen, thank Farore, even if she did radiate impatience the whole time. She sent a runner scurrying off somewhere before spooning herself a bowl of stew. Which she ate standing up. Did she just never unbend? He chewed thoughtfully. Maybe the stick wedged up her ass stopped her.
Either way, it was exhausting watching her, and he had a surge of new appreciation for Karane. She might bust his balls but she at least knew how to have fun.
"So is the Queen a hottie too?" Groose asked Impa in the low-ceilinged corridors of the fort. "All the chicks I've seen here so far have been smoking."
The buttoned-up dude who'd been leading them to the Queen's temporary quarters let out an anguished noise. It almost drowned out the noise Impa made, but Groose was like, eighty percent sure that had been a snort. He narrowed his eyes at the Sheikah, who flashed him a lightning-quick grin before returning her gaze to the front, once more the image of professional stick-up-buttness. What.
"Please," the dude was babbling. "Just... speak when spoken to, that will probably be best. Do not touch her Majesty. Kneel when you enter, and don't stand until she tells you."
Groose tuned him out.
Zelda arranged herself in the center of the room, framed by the sunlight streaming in through the window and back ramrod straight.
"Let them in," she told the page.
The sight of Impa sent an almost physical impulse through her, to run and embrace her friend. She squashed it down, and kept her hands clasped in front of her.
The man Impa led into the room wasn't what she'd imagined, but then, she supposed she had no real mental image of the hero. He was large, round-shouldered and red-haired. She smiled at him once he'd been pressed into a kneel by Impa's hand on the back of his neck.
"Welcome, Hero. I hope your journey was not overly troublesome?"
"Er... hi. Your, um, Queenness." He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "Yeah, it was fine."
Zelda raised a hand to shield the smile which had crept onto her face. In spite of herself, she found herself charmed. He was certainly... rustic.
"How shall I call you?"
"I'm Groose." He flexed subtly as he said it; she doubted he even realized he'd done it.
"Your arrival is most fortuitous, Groose, and brings me hope in these troubling times. Come, won't you sit with me?"
Impa had melted into the shadows. The page went to get a tea service, and Zelda took one of the leather armchairs framing the narrow window. Groose perched awkwardly on the other, his bulky frame fitting poorly within its arms.
"Impa said you need me to fight some beast that might or might not be a giant boar? With some special sword of yours?"
She picked up her teacup, holding it before her. "...An abbreviated summary, but not inaccurate. Tell me, how much of the old legends of Hyrule do you know?"
"Not much," he admitted. "I didn't, er, pay the most attention in history and stuff."
That was unexpected, but easily enough remedied at least. "Then I shall fill you in. In the distant past of these lands, a leader of the Gerudo led an invasion into Hyrule. Our legends indicate that the power of the Gerudos' Goddess was rendered unto them, as you suggest, in the form of a demonic boar."
Groose took a noisy slurp of his tea in the pause, raising his eyebrows in pleasant surprise at the taste. Zelda placed her own teacup on its saucer, resting her fingers lightly on the saucer's edge.
"The toll was bloody; the land and the people of Hyrule suffered greatly. Goddess Hylia, seeing the plight of her children, sent to us a divine blade and a Hero to wield it. The combined divine powers of the Hylian Queen and the Hero's blade were able to seal the demon away and fight back the invasion."
Ice had begun to creep up the edge of the cup; she consciously relaxed her grip on her magic, and the frost melted away again.
"There have long been prophecies that some day, the bindings on the demon will break. Recently, our seers—myself included—have been seeing this happening in conjunction with another Gerudo invasion. Perhaps the current Chief has some way to free her forebear's demonic helper from its bondage? And if so, we must be ready to re-seal it. Hyrule will not bow beneath a tyrant's heel under my reign."
"And the Gerudo are here already?"
"They are. Time is of the essence, Groose of the Zonai, Hero of this Age. Help us avert this tragedy."
He was silent for a long time.
"If I fight this demon pig, I can go home?" he eventually asked. "Gaepora thought all the bad shit happening here would come first, so if I help you... maybe it means nothing bad will happen to the village? But I'd like to go back just in case."
She met his eyes, and realized that despite his imposing size, he was still very young; only a year or two older than herself, if she had to guess. And he'd had next to no time to grapple with this destiny, compared to her.
"Of course. If you help me seal the evil, I will send as many of our soldiers with you as I can spare, to ensure the safety of your own home."
He breathed out harshly, and nodded. "Alright. I'll help."
She reached out impulsively to grasp one of his hands in both of her smaller ones. The breach of protocol seemed lost on him. "I'll have Impa show you to somewhere you can rest for a few hours. We'll be setting off at nightfall."
"For where?"
"For the Temple of Time, on the Great Plateau. It is where all our legends of the Goddess sword begin, and end."
He frowned again. "Isn't that behind the army that's camped out on your doorstep?"
There was a rustle as Impa stepped out of the shadows at the side of the room, that flair for the dramatic which Impa would so strenuously deny possessing showing itself.
"That's where I come in. I can get us through safely. If you pay attention and do as I say."
They were bundled away again at nightfall: him, Impa, the Queen, two of the royal guard, and some kind of spooky witch dude, half a dozen of them all piled onto three black horses with cloth wrapped round their hooves.
Impa cast some kind of spell with fluid hand motions, and they made their slow and careful way across the darkened field. Groose held his breath as they passed between the Gerudo campfires, close enough to touch the hair—as red as his own—on any of their heads. At several points, the main army dude held his clenched fist up to bring them to a stop while a group of Gerudo soldiers ambled across their path, spears resting on their shoulders.
At one point, a spark from a campfire landed on Groose's gloves. He yelped and flailed wildly trying to put it out. Several nearby Gerudo frowned, hands going to their scimitars. A hand clamped painfully firm over his mouth. His nostrils flared as he struggled to breathe, eyes wide with alarm.
"Quiet", Impa hissed right into his ear, and Groose gulped; nodded. The iron grip of fingers on his jaw released.
They waited for tense minutes in their patch of shadow as the Gerudo around them went back to their cooking and drinking and fighting—oh hey, were those two over there making out? Yeah, they totally were! Groose craned his head round to watch as they walked the horses slowly on. Impa's hand shoved his face back round to the front.
Finally, they came to the bottom of some kind of cliff. Groose vaguely remembered talk of a plateau from the briefing; this must be it. The Queen dismounted and stepped forward, pressing her hand to an image of a bird—the same one from the flag—carved into the face of it. A steep stone staircase appeared, cut into the rock, like it had always been there. Actually, it probably had been, because the edges were worn and mossy. Invisible stairs; cool.
They left one of the soldiers at the bottom to lead the horses away, and headed up the steep stairs in the dark, the main army dude taking point ahead of the Queen and Impa following at Groose's heels.
"Enjoying the view?" he whispered down at her.
The only response he got was a flick to the ankle, but Groose knew he had the goods. She was totally checking out his butt.
The journey to the Temple from the plateau's edge was thankfully uneventful. Zelda pushed open the doors, and the party stepped into the empty, echoing space, lighting torches to illuminate its shadowed corners.
"I don't see a sword," Groose murmured behind her.
"We believe it is hidden," she told him, scrutinizing the area around the statue of the Goddess. On the wall behind, there was another royal crest. She touched her fingertips lightly to it, and the solid stone seemed to dissolve into thin air. Behind was a staircase, spiraling down into the dark.
In the still darkness far beneath the temple, Zelda raised her lamp higher to peer more closely at the carvings on the wall. She brushed her fingers along the ridges, marveling at how well-preserved they were after such a long time. Behind her, she could hear the soft footsteps of Impa and the clumsier ones of Groose, descending the last of the many, many stairs. The Zonai in particular seemed to be struggling with the low light and cramped conditions.
"It is not much further, Your Majesty," Astor called back from further down the tunnel. He held no lantern; only a fistful of conjured witchlight that cast the space in eerie violet.
Zelda followed the sorcerer's hooded form out of the tunnel mouth, and gasped as it opened out into a vast open space. Huge columns supported the ceiling, vaulted ribs arching across the underside. The far side was hidden by shadow.
"Come," she told her little entourage, leading the way deeper into the space. "Let us see what power the Goddess has left for us."