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Chapter Text

The bright light and warmth of Hylia’s power faded away, as did the monstrous form of the Calamity ravaging the castle. The guardians surrounding them lay silent and dormant. Zelda heaved a breath as she fell to her knees in the scorched and blackened grass, her eyes roaming only to come to a sudden halt. Her knight, the champion Link, lay contorted in a bloody mess before her, clothes torn and stained. The ever-glowing light of the triforce on the back of his hand flickered in time with his staggering breath, then fell dim.

Zelda flinched at the sound of distance shouts, the reinforcements were finally coming! Dread pooled deep in her gut as she processed the scene around her, and through a horrid cocktail of panic and instinct, she ran. The unbalanced, stuttering pace she held was measly at best, but fast enough to get up and away from the scene before the few people alive descended on the dead knight.

It wouldn’t be till nearly a year later, spent hiding out in the foothills and forests of Mount Floria, that Zelda would realize she no longer carried the power of The Goddess. This thought enraged her; it had her slicing at trees and plants with the weapons she had found abandoned by their former wielders. If only the champions hadn’t died, if only Link hadn’t died, if only Link hadn’t failed. That was it. Her knight, her silent, idiotic, incompetent, knight, had failed Hyrule, not her.

This thought only brought darker ones to replace it, as Zelda traveled further east, away from the castle and away from everything she knew. Zelda no longer felt a connection to her name, for Zelda was the name of the princess who holds powers from Hylia herself. She was no longer a bearer of those powers, nor a princess to a dead kingdom. She was no longer Zelda.

Chapter Text

Foothills of Mount Floria; Unknown amount of time later

She carefully picked her way through the undergrowth, making her way down into Atun Valley, idly picking apples from branches and plucking mushrooms from the bases of the oaks which housed them. By the time she reached the path that wove its way close to the mountain, she had accumulated enough to warrant stashing them away in her bag, the one she’d stolen from a passing traveler. 

The action had agonized her for days afterward, she wasn’t a thief! She was merely doing what she had to in order to survive, so it made it right! It was fine! She shook her head, brushing away the thoughts, the bag was her’s now, so it wasn’t stolen anymore. It belonged to her now.

The soft sounds of footfalls pushed her into a crouch, surviving the last few years alone in the wilderness had taught her to be cautious of anything, and anyone. What appeared to be a traveling merchant was wandering up the path, but something didn’t feel right about them. Their posture was too relaxed, too fluid. No merchant walked this way with such confidence anymore, as her… way of acquiring goods had gotten Atun Valley a bit of a reputation. 

She tensed and readied her sword, though it didn’t feel right in her hand, and prepared to charge. Usually, just her getting close enough to them with the sword held near their throat was enough for merchants to hand over any food or items she wanted. This merchant before her didn’t even flinch. They blinked down at her with a slight grin and tilt of their head, “Might  I offer you some mighty bananas?” Their tone and posture was relaxed, if not comfortable, and this only confused her more. 

“Who are you?” she croaked out. She had used her voice sparingly, talking to herself from time to time, but without a soul to talk to for years, her voice had grown rough. The merchant’s grin seemed to get more excited as she said this, and they straightened up.

“I’m from the mighty Yiga Clan! We’re set to find and kill the hero ,” the merchant said the last word with a mocking sneer, “named Link. Our Master prophesied that he will one day return to finish off our Lord Ganondorf before he recovers from what that wretched princess has done to him!”

She sucked in a nigh invisible breath, then released it and gave an ever so slightly shaky smirk. She wasn’t that princess anymore, and oh, wouldn’t it be just so nice to get to finish off him herself? He was supposed to be dead, and while she was sure she saw his heart stop beating, who's to say those blasted scientists couldn’t find some twisted way to bring him back?

“Are you accepting new members?”

Karusa Valley; 3 years later

The clang of steel against steel is the only sound echoing along the walls of the canyon. Her opponent falls before her, bruised from her kicks and covered with scratches and slices where he could not dodge. She herself had but one minor injury, a long shallow slash along her shoulder, which might not even be deep enough to draw blood. 

She stands up straight now, the fight is over and she has won. Master Dosatsu glides over to them, his feet barely graze the sand and his footsteps are silent. His posture is straight but not tense, and his left shoulder is dropped ever so slightly. He is pleased. She has passed the assessment and is now permitted to start her elite training. 

The hand placed on her shoulder is firm but comforting, a solid presence telling her he is proud. “You have done well, young one,” his tone is soft and quiet, Master Dosatsu has no need to raise his voice, all of the yiga, including herself, seem to lean toward him as if they are sunflowers following the sun itself. 

She keeps the waver from her voice when she replies with reverence, “Thank you, Master!.” His only response is a very soft hum before he is gone with a single charm left in his absence. The Master has spoken, she is Yiga now, and she cannot stop the swell of pride that fizzes and bubbles from within. 

Yiga’s own footsteps are but a slight slide as she makes her into their stronghold, the carved walls of stone reach above her head with the slightest imperfections. Soon she will be able to climb even these walls with the ease of an insect. She takes a deep breath and feels content with herself for the first time in a long while.

Heart of the Yiga Clan Hideout; 10 years later

Master Dosatsu, his hair a brilliant white and title a heavy burden, looks down on Yiga with a clenched jaw. “Young Yiga, why have you not changed a bit from when I first saw you, young and fierce, standing in my hideout?” The question was loaded, traps set in every word, every letter, and if Yiga tripped even one she may have to fight her way out of her Home.

“I know not, Master. I cannot explain to you why this has happened, only humbly ask for your understanding and guidance” her voice was level, no emotion present and nothing to suggest she had done wrong. One of the blademasters stepped forward, his Windcleaver was still sheathed but she knew it could be drawn just as fast as her own.

“Perhaps, Master Dosatsu, it is a sign from Lord Ganondorf himself.” The blademaster had his gaze trained on Yiga, though not unkindly, and she could feel the shift of all the others in the sanctum shift to her from where they once were on their Master.

The Master in question’s gaze did not waver, nor did it shift or morph. Yiga’s urge to fidget became nigh impossible to ignore, but she managed to hold in the urge until the Master turned away, gazing up in thought. “You have shown great excellence and brilliance in your training and assignments thus far. Perhaps our Lord has seen something in you.”

Yiga felt something akin to awe rise in her chest, fluttering around, she was being advanced. Her training was finally complete. She was no simple yiga member anymore. She was a blademaster, an Elite, now. Striding past lesser ranking footsoldiers, she could feel their gazes and hear the hushed whispers. The news had already gotten out, she was chosen by their Lord Ganondorf himself.

Entrance to Karusa Valley, 83 years later

As Elite bowed to Master Khoga, he bowed back, he never seemed to shed that awed tone all of the younger yiga had for her, even if he had been Master for a while now. The assignment he was sending her on was dangerous, and would no doubt take her out of Hyrule, and perhaps take her a few years. 

The blademasters all lightly brushed their shoulders to hers as she passed, the farewell was formal but held a great warmth with it. It was the footsoldiers and trainees that bowed and held glances full of respect and admiration. Most of these yiga grew up with stories of Elite’s missions or training sessions with their parents or grandparents, and even those who joined instead of being born into the clan were trained alongside the whispered tales of her deeds. 

When she returned she’d have to remember to drop by more training sessions and give pointers. But for now, she was off. Windcleaver strapped to her back and Demoncarver at her thigh, she was gone in a flash of just a single charm, off her assignment.

She would not be in Hyrule when the Calamity reawoke, or when a certain scarred teenager would take up the mission quest to defeat it.

Chapter Text

The sudden consciousness was off-putting and nauseating. He shouldn’t have jerked up into a sitting position, as the world spun and the sloshing of the freezing liquid cascading away from his skin rang in his ears. Every sound was harsher than the rush of fresh air scalding his skin. 

It could’ve been seconds, minutes, or even hours as he sat there in the gently rocking liquid, hoping for the pounding in his skull and the ringing in his left ear to stop. When the pounding subsided to a dull ache and the ringing softened to a quiet whine, he slowly pulled himself up, lurching out of the pool and onto the rough ground. 

It was a few stiff, uneven steps before he found himself at two stone chests. After a moment of worried consideration, he opened one. In it held a small, holey, faded beige shirt whose seams were frayed and torn. After a brief struggle with the tight material, he now donned the small shirt. With a glance at the second chest, he felt slight confidence in himself, and then stupidly kicked it open.

He dropped to the ground, grabbed his sore foot and hissing at the pain, his throat screaming with the feeling of claws raking themselves up and down the inside of his chest. His brow crinkled with concern at the sight of his foot, the middle toe was crooked and swollen and had blossomed with colourful hues of purples, blues, and greens. Nonetheless, the chest had opened with a creak and inside was a short pair of threadbare trousers. 

After shimmying them on, he comes to a pedestal. On top of it sits a rectangular box with strange grooves. He runs his left hand over the box and it hums to life, glowing an eerie blue like the cold liquid from the pool he awoke in. After dislodging it from the pedestal he takes a minute to inspect it. The smooth side blinks to life, showing an overview of his person and his clothes. 

Instead of feeling put-off like he knows he should be, this feels comfortable and the bo- no, slate- fits into his hand nicely. He ties the handle-end to his loose rope belt, and takes his first step into the brightness of the outside. While the cave had been silent except for the low ringing in his left ear, the outside has plenty of sounds to absorb and listen to. 

The grass makes a soft sliding noise with the help of the wind’s soft hum. There are birds chirping and singing nearby, as well as the quiet repetitive clicking of a rodent enjoying a nutty treat close by. He takes a moment to savour the wind’s brush of a peck against his cheeks and it swooping through his tousled hair. Speaking of- he grabs a hold of one of the frayings strands of the rope belt and carefully pulls it loose before using it to messily tie back his long hair. 

Gazing down the path, he sees an old man, beard white and bushy like a snow-covered thicket. He supposes it wouldn’t hurt to go see if the man could tell him where he is. Well, if he can figure out how to speak to him at least. 

A few days later; Top of The Temple of Time

He feels numb. The old man-no, the ghost of the King just told him that he has been asleep for 100 years, and that the princess had been trapped with the Calamity when sealing it away. It was his fault. He was supposed to save the kingdom, wasn’t he? He didn’t even remember it happening but it was probably sickening. He was a weak coward who couldn’t even save the princess he was sworn to protect.

Pushing away all of his thoughts, he leaps from the Temple, pulling the paraglider out to catch him at the last second. He had to fix this, had to save the kingdom, the land, the princess-had to save everyone. 

A few months later; Middle of The Gerudo Desert

Fallen let out a heavy exhale, watching Vah Naboris take its place in the Gerudo Highlands. All four Divine Beasts were freed and ready to help him battle the Calamity. He was almost done, he could rest soon. Over his journeys in the last few months, he had gotten many thanks for his deeds and efforts, but none of them meant anything if he couldn’t finish this.

The ringing in his left ear had never gone away, in fact, it seemed to scream louder in his head whenever the blast of a guardian beam went off. When it rained, his scars, stretching and marring his skin, seemed to ache and throb painfully. Many a days in Zora’s Domain he would hide in the sleeping pools, the lukewarm water soothing and quieting the soreness. 

Fallen blinks himself back to the present as he shuffles his feet in the sand. The voe armour was good for keeping cool and protecting from the heat but exposed his scars to the sun in a way that made him feel eerily watched. 

Glancing out into the desert before him, he could see the far away faded silhouette of the giant skeleton that gave shade and protection to Tera’s Fountain. He might as well visit before he faces the calamity, giving him a chance to get this armour fully upgraded at last. Picking up the previously abandoned reigns on the sandseal he’s borrowed, Fallen makes his way over to the sandy fountain.

A sigh of relief exits his lips when the shade settles itself across his shoulders, a reprieve from the scorching sun. Tera must have felt his presence, as she comes above the water before he can even step up the toadstool steps. 

“Why hello there, boy!” Her abrasive greeting is met with an appreciative smile and a few quick hand movements that have come to be a familiar greeting to many inhabitants of Hyrule. 

Tera’s face softens into a familial and friendly visage, the teen in front of her has become a staple of her and her sisters’ lives throughout the last few months. He had come back to each fountain at least once a week to give small offerings and rupees and help them grow their power. He offers her a few dozen rupees as a small offering before gesturing to his Voe armour.

With a few taps of his slate, Fallen had gotten out all the materials needed to upgrade his Voe armour the last time and thanked Tera. He took a few steps out into the sun, letting the hot sting of the rays grace his skin once again. 

Switching to the Champion’s tunic, he checked and readied his weapons, making sure he had his most powerful bow slung across his back and his strongest shield under it. He would not fail a second time. He would defeat the Calamity and save Hyrule, and Zelda along with it.

Hyrule field; under an hour later

Fallen heaved in a rough breath of air as he fell slumped down to lean on his sword. Ganon’s massive form of malice laid slain on the grass expanse of Hyrule field. Fallen looked up, expecting to see an unfamiliar face of a princess, perhaps with some shining lights and glowy powers. 

No such lights or girls appeared, he waited 5, 10, 30 minutes, but no one appeared. The only thing that happened was the pulsing form of malice incarnate melting and seeping down into the ground. 

Fallen watched in horror as the grass, trampled but still alive, seemed to contort in on itself and die, leaving a large portion of the field an ominous dead brown. He clenched his teeth, forgot any pain he was in and stood up on his own, letting the master sword fall to the ground, silent and without the soft pulse it seemed to carry. 

A strangled and scratchy yell leaves his throat, anguish and turmoil curling around inside his stomach. He’d failed. Again. He did something wrong, he must’ve! The king said the princess was trapped, but she did not appear. Was he- was he too late? 

Fallen collapsed onto his knees as thunder cracked in the distance. He hadn’t noticed nor cared when the clouds rolled in, but the ensuing rain and wind caused his scars to ache, and left foot to throb painfully. 

So entranced in his spiralling thoughts, Fallen didn’t recognize the sound of soft footfalls approaching him, or perhaps he simply ignored it, wishing for a fate that the recharging Grace of Mipha could not save him from. The feeling of gentle, soft feathers brushed against his scarred cheek as none other than Kass laid his hand on Fallen’s shoulder.

“Come now, hero, you’ve done more for us than we could ever hope to thank you for.” The softly accented voice brought Fallen out of his trance, and he stood without looking at the colourful Rito. When his knees wobbled Kass simply ducked under his shoulder, supporting him as he caught his breath and retrieved the silent sword.

Hands occupied, Fallen simply nodded his thanks before bringing up his slate and transporting them both to Zora’s domain. As Kass handed him over to the crimson zora he knew so well, he finally looked up,

It wasn’t a smile, it wouldn’t be able to be for a while, but the slight upturn of his lips was enough for the prince.

------Uhh obviously not an update but I drew a lil Yiga Flora Ref so here's that------