Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This may or may not be the worst decision of my life, but hey. I’m already here, so I might as well.

Disclaimers:

• I do not own The Legend of Zelda or Fire Emblem, nor do I claim to.

• No money was made from the production of this story.

• No animals or people were harmed during the making of this story. Except for the author’s emotional wellbeing.

• The author does not necessarily endorse any actions taken in this story, nor does the author share the views expressed in this story.

• This story is rated T for occasional swearing, gratuitous depictions of violence, and PTSD.

• The author has not actually played Three Houses and does not own a Nintendo Switch, much to their intense displeasure. This story was written primarily because the author does not believe that Link and Dimitri are not the same character. Should the plot and characterization be horribly butchered, that– in conjunction with the author’s own incompetence– is probably why.

• By continuing to read these disclaimers, the reader is hereby required to leave a review with constructive criticism.

Chapter I

Cobalt.

My lips were cobalt.

The stinging winds were all-encompassing. The noxious cold enveloped me, the pallid white snow obfuscating any hope for me to actually see where the hell I was going. The blizzard had struck quickly, and while the ground only had a dusting of frozen rain upon it right now, it would swiftly rise. Worse, I was not equipped for such low temperatures. Sweltering heat, I could deal with– Darmani III had me covered on that front. Nobody could swim much better than a Zora, so I was fully equipped for a flood. War-torn hellscape? I had a literal God. The Deku Scrub… I guess if I ever had to hide in a forest or play horns, I’d be all set. But the cold? Sure, my Kokiri tunic was plenty insulating, but it only meaningfully covered my torso and thighs. My shins and arms were completely exposed.

I was glad I hadn’t made Epona trudge through this sort of weather. Shortly after everything that had happened in Termina, I returned to Hyrule to bring my trusty steed back to Lon Lon Ranch, and the Ocarina of Time back to Zelda. I couldn’t bring myself to stay. In truth, I didn’t feel that I belonged there. Every sight, every face, every voice was a stabbing reminder of everything I had lost. Termina was no better, with the added terror of the moon’s leery gaze from high above. Sure, it wasn’t there anymore, but the mere expectation of looking up to see its grimace was enough to keep me in a cold sweat.

I couldn’t– wouldn’t– return to Hyrule or Termina for as long as I lived. There was nothing left for me there. I had said as much to Malon and Zelda when I had given them back their belongings. I hadn’t been looking forward to explaining myself, but they deserved to know why I wasn’t coming back. I tried to be vague, not explaining the decayed future or the time loop in Termina. Fortunately, they chose not to pry, which was a huge relief. They probably assumed I was still searching for Navi.

Navi…

I feverishly rubbed my uncovered hands together in an effort to generate a touch of heat. I missed Navi horribly, that much hadn’t changed. But… At the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to continue searching for her. She had left without a word, sure, but she had chosen to leave. As far as I was aware, I had not dismissed her. Why would I? She was the only person who understood, the only one who knew I was more than some homeless Kokiri-clothes-wearing delinquent with issues and a sword. If Navi had chosen to leave… she must have had a reason. Like how the Giants had a reason to leave Skull Kid all that time ago. She was much more logical than me. Maybe I wasn’t worthy of her. Maybe I had done something to offend her. Maybe she forgot all about me, like everyone else had. Maybe she was dead. Maybe she had been promoted to a Great Fairy, I don’t know, and I had no way of finding out at this point. It could have easily been something else far beyond my less than limited understanding.

Regardless of what had become of her, she wouldn’t be happy knowing I was spending my every waking moment searching for her. And if I could heal Darmani and Mikau and the Deku Scrub– people who were so similar to me– surely, I could heal myself with or without Navi by my side. I would not let my insecurities, my loneliness, my fear become a selfish obsession. It was high time I let go.

But at the same time, I couldn’t bear to stay long in Hyrule, and Termina was absolutely off the table. There was only one option left to me.

Wander. And if I found Navi by chance on the way… well, I would certainly be fine with that.

I had traveled due east, further than any Kokiri had ever gone. I walked for months, stopping only to eat and sleep. I didn’t do very much of that, either– oftentimes, I ate while I walked, and sleep heralded nightmares of abandonment and despair, so I tried to only sleep when I was too tired to move. It had been a day like any other just that morning. But at exactly six forty-five in the evening… I left the forest. I hadn’t even realized that that was possible.

And then I immediately got assaulted by a full-blown blizzard.

I had tried to double back to a more familiar clime, but… somehow the entire forest had just disappeared. There was still a sizable wooded area, sure, but there was none of the magical obfuscating effect of the Lost Woods proper. Had I pulled a Termina and accidentally stumbled into a Perpendicularity? Again? That would certainly explain the drastic, unheralded change in weather. If the sun had grown a face this time, I was going to lose it .

There was still some magic in the air, but it was different. More controlled. It was a far cry from the wild and untamed natural magical energies of the Kokiri Forest that I was used to, to be sure. Fortunately, it wasn’t immediately malicious like Ganondorf’s or Majora’s had been. It was just… not quite like anything I had sensed before. I guess I had fallen into another Perpendicularity– a point where dimension hopping was possible, where one could move perpendicular to every other spatial direction simultaneously. I had coined that name myself, and to be quite frank, I was very proud of it.

When the woods had proven barren of any markings of civilization, I spent another hour retracing my steps to the point of egress from the Lost Woods and wasted twice as long trying to find the Perpendicularity so I could get out of this snowstorm. I didn’t want to end up like the Goron who had given me Don Gero’s Mask. I would have become an ice cube a long time ago had I not blown all my magic on making Fire Arrows for use as makeshift torches. But now I was out of magic, which meant it was officially panic mode.

That is, if I hadn’t already been in panic mode for the last couple of hours.

At long last, I broke out of the forest– or, at least, broke into a gap in the forest. A clearing was carved into the woods west to east in a straight line– too straight of a line. That couldn’t be natural… I pawed at the ground through the rapidly accumulating snow, and lo, it was made of stone. I had found a road! And a road meant people! I just had to follow the path, and I would find someone that could take me in. Maybe a nice fire…

At random, I started heading east. Hopefully I would find a building before I succumbed to hypothermia. I most likely had a long way to walk. Probably. This was a huge gamble, but did I have any other choice? It was certainly better than wandering aimlessly for another sign of life. A sign that I knew would never come.

The metaphorical clock struck ten. The visibility was so bad I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. Not only was it dark, but the snow blanketed the surroundings in a ubiquitous gray. I only knew the direction I was going from my internal compass and the vague tree line that marked the sides of the highway.

I was swiftly losing all feeling in my lower body, the numbness snaking up my torso and scrabbling with frigid fingers towards my chest and arms. I had been walking for what felt like forever, each second dragging into an icy infinity. I had to be getting closer now. I had to. I had to. I had to .

Wait.

There, in the gloom, I could just barely make out a light. Several lights, in fact. It couldn’t be far now. I had to keep moving. Hopefully whatever was out there wouldn’t kill me, or at the very least, give me a chance to heat up first.

Blessed warmth began to trickle into my system as I approached. On closer inspection, the lights were the dying embers of great braziers, still exuding some muted heat. Strangely enough, the snow was greatly reduced, and the stench of magic was thick in the air. Perhaps whoever had set up all these tents had layered an enchantment to reduce the snowfall. It was still wicked cold, but the precipitation was reduced. Whatever it was, I wasn’t complaining.

I didn’t know if I was in danger in this place. The people or monsters in this encampment could be hostile. But I needed to not turn into an icicle. Worst case scenario, I could just fight them off. No big deal. Hopefully.

I outstretched my hands, ears eternally cocked in case someone approached. What I wouldn’t give for the Stone Mask right now… alas, I had traded it, along with all my other non-transformation masks, for the Fierce Deity’s Mask. It had made fighting Majora a cakewalk, but I still missed the utility of my other veneers. Plus, the Fierce Deity scared me. More than I was comfortable admitting.

I could feel the numbness of the cold beginning to retreat, the embers enveloping me in its embrace. Good to know that I wasn’t going to freeze to death just yet. Hopefully this snowstorm would have run its course by the morning. I would hate to be–

“Prince Dimitri, sire, should you not be–”

“That’s not Prince Dimitri–”

Shoot.

I whirled to locate the origin of the words. They were coming from a different brazier, a few dozen meters or so to the left. They seemed to be structured in a circular arrangement, surrounded by tents on all sides. It was very organized; the placements had clearly been no accident. From the other firepit, I could make out three silhouettes– adults, adults with weapons at their hips and some sort of military garb adorning their bodies.

I had stumbled into an entire army.

This could not possibly end well.

I watched the trio, every muscle primed against the cold. I couldn’t risk being captured. I would most likely have to fight my way out. Unfortunate, but necessary.

My right hand drifted to my pouch, fingers trembling as they curled around a Deku Nut. Take another step , I thought. I dare you.

They took another step.

I threw the Deku Nut with a loud bang and a blinding flash. The three soldiers were equally caught off-guard by the blast, and threw a hand up in front of their faces to block the brilliance. I took the opportunity to dart away, my breathing slow and shallow, exhaustion coiling around my muscles. I nearly tripped twice, my body unusually sluggish and unresponsive. I was shivering something fierce, too, which was probably my own fault for not thinking to invest in more cold protection. The Lost Woods didn’t really have seasons– it was more or less temperate year-round– so how the hell was I supposed to know I would be tossed directly into a snowstorm?

Someone started raising an alarm. I dashed deeper into the maze, trying to stay out of sight as much as possible and evading the sudden swarming of soldiers out of every giant tent in the oversized camp. In hindsight, maybe throwing a flashbang in the middle of the night wasn’t the best idea if I wanted to be stealthy.

It simply wouldn’t do to die in a snowstorm, but I couldn’t get close to the fires without blowing my cover. And the big tents were vomiting troops far too quickly…

There. A smaller tent. Ringed by a number of the big tents, it was unassuming enough, and it had the gentle glow of candlelight emanating from within. It must have been empty, since there was nobody coming out of it. I trudged through the ankle-deep snow, although it felt as though it were up to my knees. I weakly stepped up to the tent and located the entrance, and staggered inside.

Immediately, something cold and sharp was being pressed gently into the junction between my neck and jaw. An axe, I realized numbly. I guess my gamble hadn’t paid off after all.

“Take a step back,” a low, stern voice demanded calmly. The voice belonged to a man who looked even younger than I had been after my seven-year nap– at oldest, seventeen or so. That being said, this person was much taller than I had ever been– not quite the same height as Fierce Deity, but easily tall enough to see eye to eye with Darmani or Mikau. His hands held the weapon currently at my throat. Not to be outdone, I withdrew the Great Fairy’s Sword from my pouch as swiftly as I could and brandished it at the tanned man.

“I could ask the same of you,” I replied. It was supposed to be threatening, but perhaps the combination of my childish voice, the strange slurring of my speech, and the uncontrollable chattering of my teeth took away from that to an immense degree. If he was surprised, he did an excellent job of hiding it. We were at a standstill, each of us an errant twitch from divorcing head from body.

A third voice cut through the silence, lighter than the white-haired man’s but still undeniably male. “Dedue, is–”

I panicked. I refrained from attacking immediately– that would make noise, and I didn’t want the entire army on me right now. Instead, I swept the Great Fairy’s Sword backwards, batting away the axe from its place. I slid back a half-step, eyes locked onto the new arrival. He was wearing blue, and his hair was a mess of blonde strands. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen. Remarkably, he looked almost exactly like I had once appeared, although his hair was neater and his skin was a bit more fair. A lance was in his hands, but he wasn’t pointing it at me yet. The youth was appraising me, something simmering deep below the surface. “Who is our guest?”

“Perhaps the cause for alarm,” ‘Dedue’ explained. “He is not one of ours.”

“I agree, his garb is… unusual. Hardly suited for a Faerghus winter,” Not Me commented. I glared, the cold starting to addle my thoughts. “Where are you–”

I tightened my grip, still shivering fiercely. My vision was starting to flicker. The axe wielder had moved to interpose himself between me and the other boy. I may have been in no condition to fight, but the Great Fairy’s Sword was enormous and imposing. Hopefully I could intimidate these two into letting me go.

“Blue lips,” Dedue noted.

“Ah. Hypothermia,” the other commented. Hypo-what now? “We can question this individual in the morning. Until then, keep him warm.”

“And if his intentions are malicious?”

“Dedue, I appreciate your concern, but he can’t be older than ten.” Anger coursed through my ungodly cold brain. I was biologically eleven, thank you very much! And I had spent at least twelve of those years conscious!

“As you wish.”

There was nowhere to go but through. Escaping the tent would just lead me back into the frigid night. I lunged, sword swinging—

And I remembered no more.

There you go. I hope I’m not butchering everything so far. In the interest of being forthcoming about upload schedule-- as of posting, I have already complete ten chapters out of God knows how many, and I do intend on finishing this story. In order to not make myself want to die, I'm going to highly stagger the release of new chapters so that I have plenty of time to actually write. I intend to upload the next chapter sometime in early December, which will give me plenty of time to write yet more chapters. Once all chapters are completed, I will start uploading them with a cadence of about once a week.
It is currently winter of 1178, by the way.

Review please!

Chapter Text

So… um. Wow. I wasn’t expecting this little idea to blow up so quickly on FFnet. Between FFnet and AO3 where it is also posted, despite the former’s godawful archiving system, it got way more traction on the former than the latter. I’m blown away and super thankful to everyone who favorited, followed, reviewed, kudo’d, whathaveyou! So much so that I’ve decided to start uploading chapters on the first of every month! As of writing this note, the story just hit the Verdant Rain Moon.

Chapter II

To my great surprise, I woke up warm. And not missing any fingers or toes or limbs or other various parts of my body. Not to mention the fact that I woke up at all. My head was pounding and my thoughts were a bit over the place. Where was I, anyway?

“Looks like he’s coming around,” someone said.

With a bit of further inspection, I realized that I was in the same tent as when I had blacked out. The candles were now extinguished, natural light seeping in through the fabric of the structure. I was on the ground, in some sort of bedroll. I guess the two boys who had been in here had taken decently good care of me while I was unconscious. Mentally, I removed them from my ever-growing list of hostiles. I immediately disengaged from the bedroll and got to my feet. The white-haired one– Dedue, if I recalled correctly– tightened his grip on his axe. Interestingly, he was sporting a few more nicks on his face than I recalled there being last night. I recognized my handiwork when I saw it. Now that I thought about it further, I had a vague recollection of clashing blades with him. I think I had thought he was going to hurt me, for some reason…

A flare of pain surged from my right shoulder. I gave it a cursory glance and realized it had somehow been dislocated. I hyperventilated for a few moments before forcing my arm back into its socket. I had no idea how that had happened.

I warily eyed the observers. They may not have been an immediate threat, but I still had to expect the worst. As usual. I tried to keep my expression schooled.

“My thanks for your… mercy,” I said slowly, grateful that they used the common tongue. I was fluent in both the common tongue that everyone used as well as Silvarian, the language of the Kokiri. I was aware that the Gerudo had their own language, but I wasn’t familiar with it. Gorons and Zora, or at least Terminian Gorons and Zora, had no unique languages of their own as far as I knew. I would hate for the inhabitants of this world to not understand me. “In addition, I sincerely apologize for any… injuries the two of you sustained. I was not in a good state of mind last night.”

If they were surprised by my words, they did an excellent job of hiding it. The blonde one was about to open his mouth when a loud horn interrupted. Instinctually, I gripped my sword and whirled to find the origin of the sound.

Someone entered the tent. One of the men from last night.

“Prince– Dimitris?”

“I will attempt to explain in a moment. Please, continue,” the blonde boy implored. I surmised that he was ‘Prince Dimitri’. Was Dimitri a last name or a first name? I wasn’t quite sure.

“Only one thing to report,” he went on. “At approximately twenty-three hundred hours, an intruder was spotted in the southwest quadrant–”

“Yeah, that was me,” I confessed, causing everyone to give me an odd look. “I had been wandering in the storm for five hours, at least. When your soldiers came over, I assumed they were hostile. Still freezing, I found my way here. My apologies for any inconveniences.”

“Five hours dressed like that?” Prince Dimitri mused. “Nobody could spend that long in conditions like that and be as cognizant as you were last night… at least, nobody without a crest…”

He trailed off, an implacable expression on his face. Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out what the heck ‘crest’ meant in this context. “No. That’s not possible…”

“Sire?”

“Nothing,” Prince Dimitri replied. “What’s your name?”

“Link,” I said curtly. A short pause ensued.

“And your surname?”

“No. Just Link,” I said after a moment’s silence. I had to figure out exactly what ‘surname’ meant. Did he mean last name? I was going to roll with that. “I never knew my parents, so I never got one.”

“Where are you from?”

There it was. There was the dreaded question. How was I going to go about answering this? I looked down and slightly to the side, deliberately avoiding eye contact. “I… don’t particularly want to talk about it. Erm, not to sound ignorant, but… where are we, exactly?”

“We are in the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus; more specifically, the territory of House Gideon, a day’s march to Fhirdiad,” Prince Dimitri informed unhelpfully after a moment’s hesitation. I was just going to pretend like I knew what any of those words meant. 

“Never been there,” I said truthfully. “You, uh, soldier person– got anything else to say?”

To my lack of surprise, I was not directly responded to.

Prince Dimitri and the soldier engaged in a curt conversation about logistics or something or other. I didn’t pay it much mind. The only important information that I got out of it was that we would be continuing the trip to Fir-Dyad or whatever the heck it was called once the storm cleared up. I guess that meant it was still snowing.

Vaguely, I processed that the guard had exited the tent. I drummed the tips of my fingers against each other, slightly nervous about the following events. I probably couldn’t just stay here. That would be a massive breach of etiquette, wouldn’t it? Not to mention an abuse of hospitality.

“So, Link, would you like to travel with us to Fhirdiad?”

I took a double-take. “I– I beg your pardon, Prince Dimitri?”

“It would be no problem,” the royal assured. “It is the least I could do. Faerghus winters are not forgiving, as you are now no doubt aware. You can borrow some of my spare clothes– Dedue’s would be even larger on you than mine, and your current attire does not protect you from the elements.”

I struggled to form words. This was seriously up there on the list of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me. It didn’t top the hug from Cremia– nothing could top the hug from Cremia– but still. “That’s… um, v-very considerate, Prince Dimitri. I… it’s just– I wasn’t expecting it. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, please let me know!”

The prince turned away from me, a smile on his face. “I’ll hold you to that.”

~~~

Prince Dimitri’s clothes were, in a word, massive.

I had always been rather scrawny, sure, but I guess sprinting nonstop for three days straight hundreds of times over had really not done me any favors in that regard. If I wore my tunic underneath, its girth could be construed as somewhat reasonable, but it still hung off me like a smock. The pants weren’t much better. I was liable to trip on the cuffs. Fortunately, I could just tuck the bottom bit into my boots, which solved the tripping problem and also prevented snow from getting in contact with my lower shins and ankles.

Even though they were comically large on me, they still managed to feel constricting to me. My tunic was great by contrast— it was light, durable, stain-resistant, and full of nostalgia. I had gotten so used to it that Prince Dimitri’s spare attire felt like an Iron Knuckle’s armor.

I sighed, not only from the wardrobe malfunction. I knew I had to do this, that I couldn’t keep my origins a secret for too long. It would breed distrust, which was already making itself plenty available in the tent. I had to nip it in the bud before it could become a problem. “May I have a word, Prince Dimitri?”

The lance-wielder paused, brush midway along his scalp. “Yes?”

“Erm…” I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Without Dedue?”

“I assure you, there is nothing you can say to me that I am not comfortable with Dedue also hearing.” The prince’s words gained a sharp edge. “Or is there a problem?”

I caught onto the insinuation pretty quickly. “No, no,” I  hastened to confirm. “Dedue is a fine man, I like him– really, I do. It’s just… it’s about where I’m from, and… I don’t want word to spread too far.”

“You will not have to worry about that,” Dedue interjected.

“Alright, alright.” I pushed a stray bang out of my cone of vision. “I’m sure you know what perpendicular means?”

“Yes. It is when two lines meet at a ninety-degree angle.”

“Right. Now, here’s where it gets difficult– there are places, in the world, where you can move in a direction perpendicular to all other three dimensions at once.” I paused to let that sink in. “When you do that, you… for lack of a better term, jump worlds.”

Silence.

“I’m not from Far Gus. I’m not from anywhere you could find on a map. I’m from a place called Hyrule, kilometers and kilometers and a Perpendicularity away…”

More silence.

“With all due respect, Link, I find it difficult to believe you,” the lance-user stated.

“I would be surprised if you didn’t,” I replied, taking off my hat. “But I can prove it. See… um… I’m not human, like you two are. Look at my ears.” I tapped the side of my head.

Dedue squinted. “Pointed…”

“Yes. I can go on.” I began to rummage through my pouch.

“That’s… not necessary,” Dimitri assured. “Somehow, I get the sense that you are not lying. Dedue, what do you think?”

“I am unsure, Your Highness,” the axe-user stated. “But if you are inclined to believe his words, then I will as well.”

I internally breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Do you see why I didn’t want the contents of this conversation to spread?”

“I do,” the prince said, a wry grin inching onto his face. “I suppose that also means you’re not my bastard cousin.”

I proceeded to inelegantly choke on my own spit and surprise. I mean, sure, we looked almost too similar for it to be a coincidence, but…

“Will you ever tell us more about your home?” he continued.

I hesitated. “Maybe, in time. My world… doesn’t have many happy memories for me.”

Both Dimitri and Dedue nodded slowly, like they truly understood what I was getting at. I doubted it, but still. It was a nice feeling.

~~~

It was still snowing as we exited the tent. I couldn’t really tell if it was lighter or heavier than last night, but it was obviously too much to call for the whole army to march. As far as I had gathered, this army was being commanded by Prince Dimitri and was traveling towards Fir-Dyad. I guess that made sense– he was a prince, after all. I don’t remember Princess Zelda having military experience of this sort, but maybe that was because Hyrule was coming out of the Unification War. That would also explain why the Hyrulean army was so much less organized than that of Far Gus. This level of structure was absent in all four corners of Termina as well, with the exception of Ikana in its heyday.

The braziers were properly ablaze now, their crimson warmth seeping throughout the entire camp. Now that I thought about it, the camp itself wasn’t all that large. The rigid, structured nature just made it look larger than it really was. It just barely eclipsed four times the size of Kakariko Village, or at least the parts of Kakariko Village that I had had the opportunity to explore. Even still, that made Far Gus’ army significantly larger than Hyrule’s.

I idly wondered to myself what would happen next. If we weren’t leaving, what was there to do? It almost felt like a waste to just stand around here.

“Shall we spar?”

I sputtered. “I, um, I don’t– I’m not saying no, but– why?”

“From an early age, children of Faerghus are taught how to fight, even before we learn to read and write,” Prince Dimitri explained. “The harsh environment requires it. Sparring is a common activity.”

Something about that felt very backwards, but I didn’t say anything. And I had thought learning how to fight at the ripe old age of ten was far too soon. “Well, if you say so.”

As a trio, we exited the tent. The snow was much lighter than it had been last night. Interestingly, it was falling as rain . And it was surprisingly warm. Not as temperate as Kokiri Forest, to be sure, but warm enough to melt the snow as it fell. I could see, off in the distance, the braziers from last night fully ablaze. The flames were bloodred, and I could sense the strange orderly magic emanating from it. A pretty sizeable enchantment must have been laid over them. That made sense, and that would also explain the unfamiliar magic in the air.

Soldiers were milling around, performing small tasks like weapon upkeep, sky surveying, and keeping watch. Were we in hostile territory? No, that couldn’t be right– Prince Dimitri had said we were only a day’s march from Fir-Dyad. How small was Far Gus, anyway? I had been under the assumption that it was larger than Hyrule, but who knew at this point. Dimitri was shown respect, Dedue was glanced at with distrust, and I don’t think anyone knew what to make of me. Honestly, fair enough. I didn’t know what to make of myself.

The three of us made our way to a comparatively rather busy corner of the camp. It had a more open floor plan than the rest of the camp. There were a number of training dummies and archery targets set up neatly all over the place. I watched the other two young men step up to a small nearby tent, a number of wooden sparring weapons stored inside. It was being manned by a lone knight, her right arm stuck in a sling.

“Prince Dimitri,” she greeted, waving with her good hand. The prince engaged in some small talk before checking out a lance, axe, and short sword. And by short, I meant short. Even shorter than the Kokiri Sword had been before I had traveled to Termina. I tried not to make a fuss about it. Dimitri and Dedue beelined towards the center of the grounds, towards a lone figure with messy blue hair beating the hell out of a mannequin with a hand-and-a-half sword. He couldn’t have been older than Prince Dimitri, as he was a bit shorter. Still much taller than me, of course, but still.

“You’re late, Boar,” the youth snarled, not turning from his task. Dedue’s eyes narrowed into slits. Was ‘Boar’ Prince Dimitri’s last name? His first name? That didn’t sound right, but my world had plenty of silly names, my own included.

“My apologies, Felix,” Boar Dimitri said. I errantly brushed a bang out from in front of my face. “We were… held up. But we’re here now. How does a two-on-two sound? Myself and Deude versus you two?”

“Define ‘you two’,” Felix said, finally turning to face us. His intense gaze locked onto me. “Ugh, there’s another one now.”

I cleared my throat. “You must be Felix. My name is Link. Prince Dimitri is allowing me to accompany the army to Fir-Dyad.” I extended my hand to shake, my best nonthreatening smile on my face. The other swordsman reciprocated only with a scowl. Great. I was being partnered with an edgelord.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he drawled, tightening his grip on his own blade. I unslung my Mirror Shield from its place on my back. From a dozen meters away, Dedue readied his axe while Dimitri leveled his lance. Silently, I observed my foes with a lucidity I had lacked the last time we crossed blades. Dedue was a wall of flesh and muscle, easily dwarfing me and certainly outclassing me in terms of raw strength. He would hit hard, but he would be slow, hopefully slow enough that I could dodge or block any lethal blows. I supposed a victory by a thousand papercuts would still be a victory. Prince Dimitri, on the other hand, seemed more balanced. He was certainly faster, and had greater reach with his spear than Dedue’s axe. But he wouldn’t hit as hard. Hopefully.

Felix was the first to move, swiping swiftly at Prince Dimitri, who blocked with the haft of his spear. If Felix had Dimitri covered, I would have to keep Dedue from tag-teaming. I was quick to engage, interrupting a brutal chop with the garish face of my Mirror Shield. I could feel the shockwaves from the impact coursing along my right arm. It would seem that my assessment was correct. My combatant’s weapon was now traveling in a horizontal slash, which I backflipped out of the way of, mere hairs away from the edge. I darted forward as soon as I could, bashing my shield into his abdominal because it was easier for me to reach. I tossed a glance towards Felix, whose sword was locked with Dimitri’s lance. Unfortunately, this gave Dedue enough time to recover from my initial attack and land a solid strike on my chest. I wasn’t used to having to worry about other people while fighting. In addition, I was used to fighting beasts and monsters and the like– things that didn’t really have the mental capacity to fluidly feint and counterattack like Dedue was. It didn’t take a genius to observe that I was sorely outmatched. I could break into my trove of other items, but I didn’t want to do that. This was a friendly– hopefully– spar. If I was going to win, I wanted to win by my own skill, not by pulling a win condition out of my ass.

I managed to land a vertical swipe, quickly putting distance between myself and Dedue so that I wouldn’t suffer a brutal counterattack. Unfortunately, something large and heavy slammed into my back, knocking me directly into the wet ground. I awkwardly shoved the offending object off of me so that I could breathe, eliciting a noise from Felix, and rolled over onto my back before springing to my feet. Had Prince Dimitri thrown the blue-haired swordsman at me? Fair play to him, but…

“I think this counts as a victory,” Boar Dimitri mused.

“You haven’t won yet,” Felix growled, getting back into a ready position. “May be stuck with a midget, but I’m not out of this!” Wasn’t he the idiot who had been thrown? I had been holding my own against Dedue just fine!

“It hasn’t ended…” I affirmed. Halfway through my sentence, I flung myself at Prince Dimitri, preparing a powerful overhead slice before switching to a horizontal slash. “... Until it’s ended!” It felt like my opponent was at least two steps ahead of me, his lance always perfectly positioned to block my every attack. Interestingly, he was not fighting back. Instead, he was observing. Waiting?

There. Prince Dimitri reared back to strike, and I shifted my Mirror Shield to block. I realized too late that was exactly what he wanted. Almost quicker than I could react, the spear slammed into my opposite side, waves of pain coursing up my side. Dimitri was stronger than me too?! I mean, it wasn’t exactly a high bar to cross, given that I was still biologically a child, but still…

I could only hear the blood pumping in my ears, a roaring crescendo, a metronome defining the rhythm for the symphony of chaos that this fight had become. I grabbed the haft of Dimitri’s spear before he could try for another strike. I pulled it forward, and while the prince didn’t let go, his body was drawn closer. I rammed the butt of my sword into his now-exposed face before instinctively reaching into my pouch. It was only when my fingers curled around the wood that the horrible momentum abated and I realized what I was doing. Had I seriously been about to bring the Fierce Deity to bear against the so-called boar prince? What was I thinking?!

But I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to put it on my face and show my true strength.

I barely processed the shaft of the spear leaving my grip. I narrowly managed to intercept Dimitri’s strike with my own shield, but the force of the impact flung me backwards ten paces, leaving twin tracks in the mud as I struggled to not fall over. The lance-user was giving chase, so I lunged forwards, grazing his right cheek with the edge of my wooden blade. Dancing out of the way of a counterattack, I drew back my blade to strike again. If I was fast enough, I could get around his guard and land a more substantial blow.

The ground gave way under my feet.

Due to the rain, the ground was more pliant than I had been anticipating. Thus, when I shifted my body weight to swing, much of the force from my lower body went into deforming the earth. This took crucial might away from my swing.

And Prince Dimitri was able to halt my blade with his off hand.

I tried to pull it back, but his grip was like a vice. With seemingly no effort at all, he wrenched the sword from my grasp. It had, in fact, ended. “Guess I’m dead,” I surmised, slinging my shield back into its rightful place on my back. “Well fought.”

“I could say the same to you,” Dimitri grinned. “Now that you aren’t about to die of hypothermia, your speed is nearly unparalleled.”

“Obviously not fast enough,” I countered. “It felt like you were always two steps ahead of me.”

“That was pathetic,” Felix commented with false apathy. I’d like to see him do any better. “Whoever trained you did a horrible job.”

“I trained myself,” I countered somewhat hotly. “Besides, didn’t Prince Dimitri literally throw you at me a few minutes ago?”

“Tch.”

“That’s enough of that,” Boar Dimitri placated. “You both fought well, and the morning is still young. How does a three on one sound?”

~~~

By midday, I had been thoroughly and completely humiliated.

Dimitri, Dedue, and Felix were all so much better than me at the art of fighting, even accounting for age and physical strength. They were about as old as I had been after my little seven-year nap, and outclassed me even further than the older-yet-younger me back then. Sure, I probably could have fared a bit better had I used everything available to me, and the base urge to attach the Fierce Deity to my face for the sake of the fight was all but all-consuming for some reason, but I had to restrain myself. It would hardly be respectful.

I had never felt this way about the Fierce Deity before. I had been almost scared of it ever since I first put it on, on the moon. Arguably, I was even more scared of it now that I desperately wanted to stick it onto my face for no discernable reason. This was completely out of left field for me.

The rations we were given by the army were surprisingly tasty, or maybe my standards were just really low. I got more weird looks than I had ever received in my entire life, but I suppose that was to be expected. I was a random child who hadn’t been there yesterday, wearing Prince Dimitri’s comically oversized clothing. Even still, I wasn’t a huge fan of their eyes. Maybe I should put on the Fierce Deity’s Mask. Then I could really give them something to stare at. What was I thinking? I would have to get this checked out once I was truly and properly alone.

I left Prince Dimitri, Dedue, and Felix in the mess hall. Maybe what I needed was some space. That was probably wise.

I could feel the layered enchantments weaving the air as I passed a brazier. It must be repelling the strength of the snowstorm, heavily reducing the amount of accumulated frost on the ground in the camp. Further out, I could see the storm in full force, nearly a foot of snow having piled up. That was a… lot. More than a fifth of my height. It would have been a lot less if I just–

What was wrong with me today? No, it wasn’t just today– in the fervor of yesterday’s events, the urge to don the Fierce Deity was all but overpowering. It hadn’t been like this until I came to this world. I couldn’t stand this… desperate need. I began to move with greater purpose, into the depth of the storm. I ignored the biting verdant wind, the stinging silver snow, as I continued my trek, trampling a bush of crimson flowers while keeping my head down, away from the glare of the azure moon. When I decided I was sufficiently far away from the camp, I rummaged through my pouch. At the last moment, I questioned what I was doing. The mask’s dark power had been just as bad as Majora. What if, in this world, there was some unknown side effect? What if I became like the Skull Kid? In my quest to quell the hatred of my own body, would I doom this entire world?

I supposed that question was rendered rather moot when the surface of the mask attached to my face. The transformation began at once. Every shred of myself was instantly twisted and rearranged, elongating, my entire being unfurling into the form of a dark god, splashes of war paint adorning my face. Gone was the gaunt echo of youth I had hated. This was the me I was supposed to be. Well, no, it wasn’t really that either. This was the mask. Not me But it was closer to who I was than myself.

“I… apologize,” I spoke, unbidden by my own mind, “for my manipulations. But they were unfortunately necessary.”

The mask felt… different than it had in Termina, when I had last donned it. It felt… warmer. More alive. A current of unfamiliar magic stewed beneath it, not unlike the magic from the braziers but not quite like it, either. Had this world… activated it somehow?

There were no doubts in my mind that the Fierce Deity was speaking through my lips. Panicking, I brought its hands up to its face to tear off the masks, but I found that my-its-our fingers would not close around the edge of the mask. “I would not do that if I were you,” my voice echoed. “This procedure is very delicate.”

What are you doing?! I wailed, but the words were locked inside my mind. The Fierce Deity made no indication that it had heard me at all. At a moment’s notice, all I could hear was an unbearable screaming cacophony, so loud and terrible and strangely beautiful that I thought my eardrums would rupture long before it was over, despite the fact that the sound was coming from within my own mind. Suddenly, as soon as it was there, it was gone again. A breath escaped our lungs.

As I said, I apologize for taking control of your emotions, a voice that was not my own whispered. I knew, somehow, that it was the Fierce Deity’s true voice, not constrained to the physical limitations of my own tongue and mouth. In order to establish a connection, I had to assume control for a time.

“Can you… hear me?” I croaked through our physical mouth. I stared at our gauntleted hand, clenching and unclenching our every muscle just to see how much control I could exert over the Fierce Deity’s body. It seemed… that there were no limits at all. Like it wasn’t even trying to stop me.

Of course I can , the mask chastised. Now that the link is formed, I can hear your thoughts, as you can hear mine.

I decided that I really didn’t like this. I was quick to take the mask off, swiftly reverting to the form that I hated but just had to accept, if it meant the Fierce Deity couldn’t worm its way into my head.

Do you really think so lowly of me? I already apologized for seizing control of your mind, what more do you want?

I nearly dove into a snowbank in surprise. I guess I wasn’t getting rid of it that easily.

Why did you do this? I thought.

It simply wouldn’t do if we were not able to communicate, the answer came. You are my champion, after all.

Champion? I echoed.

You… intrigue me. More than any mortal that I have conquered before. Simply calling you a host felt… wrong, somehow.

I resolved to never wear the mask again.

Curious. I offer my might to you, with no strings attached, and you refuse it without a second thought.

I paused. I don’t understand. If you’ve dominated so many before me, why–

Paranoia is a strong instinct to have, the Fierce Deity commended, but it is not necessary in this case. I offer you no Faustian deal, no subtle corruption. As long as you draw breath, my power will be yours to command.

I don’t believe you , I snarled internally.

Believe what you will, the Fierce Deity shot back. It does not change reality.

I started trudging back towards the Far Gus camp. Well, if you’re going to be living in my brain, what do you want me to refer to you as? I’ve just been calling you ‘Fierce Deity’ this entire time, but somehow that doesn’t feel right.

You would be correct. That is not my name. You may call me Katáktisi.

Katáktisi… That did sound more correct, somehow. So, this has been nagging at me for a long time– why do you look so… like me?

Katáktisi did not reply for a long moment. I had once intended to break you, as I had done to countless others. Melding my appearance to match that of my host gives them the impression that they were meant to wear me, leaving them more susceptible.

So why didn’t you–

You have asked enough questions, Katáktisi stated abruptly, like it was trying to dodge the subject. Do not broach that topic again.

I wisely stopped talking. I didn’t know what the newly-christened Katáktisi was hiding, but I was certain that I didn’t want to induce its wrath. I just had to not wear the mask, and all would be well– as long as it didn’t mess with my feelings again. I was fairly sure it wouldn’t do that again, though; it had already apologized for doing it to establish the connection.

I have no intentions of manipulating you, Katáktisi assured, and I felt inclined to believe it. But was that in itself a deception? If I couldn’t even trust myself, how could I trust the mask in my possession?

You recognized that something was wrong when I twisted your feelings before. Perhaps you could not put it into words, but you did feel it. It was right, and I knew it in my heart of hearts. Hopefully, that would be enough. It would have to be.

Hehe, Katáktisi go brrrrrrr

Believe it or not, this fic was initially meant to be similar to “Support Conversations with the Hero of Time” by ChankoLegacy (go read that lol). Of course, it then spiraled into– well, this. I actually have full support chains for Byleth (excluding S support because Link will be, like, 17 post-timeskip), Seteth, Cyril, Ashe, and Dimitri, as well as plans for Raphael, Leonie, Hubert, Felix, Flayn, and Petra. I’ll probably end up working those into the story as I see fit.

Hear me out– if you leave a review or comment, I’ll respond to it here!

Black. cat.002 (FF): You’re very welcome! In terms of most fanfiction interpretations of the Hero of Time, this one is pretty good at dealing with Hyrule and Termina. Granted that isn’t saying much, but… it’s something, isn’t it?

ExtraSavoirFaire (FF): Thank you very much!

Primus1661 (FF): Thank you! I got the idea for this fic when I noticed that if you put Cyril and Dimitri on two ends of a sliding scale, Link is smack-dab in the middle. He actually does think about his ears and actively hides them.

Backpack Bandit (FF): Thank you very much!

Chapter Text

It’s ya boi, back at it again.

Chapter III

As it happened, Fir-Dyad was really, really big. It put Castle Town to shame, that was for sure. Realistically, it couldn’t have been that much bigger than Clock Town, but the sheer unfamiliarity of it all made it feel larger than life. Also, it apparently wasn’t spelled Fir-Dyad. Who on earth decided it would be remotely okay to put a silent ‘h’ after the F? It was just confusing. Same with Far Gus– er, I mean, Faerghus. Stupid names all around. At least ‘Link’ was easy to pronounce.

Felix had broken off from the main army with a small contingent. Apparently, they were all from his territory of Fraldarius. The remainder of the force had stayed on its course to the capital. We had just arrived as evening fell. The whole city was alight with glowing candles, the bustle of everyday life unabated by the frigid temperatures and waning sunlight. I wrapped Prince Dimitri’s clothes tighter around myself as a chilly wind ran through me, but I could barely feel the cold over the excitement of this new place.

The main force made its way to some other part of the town, presumably towards some form of barracks, but Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and Dedue Molinaro did not follow them. I hesitated for a moment, before remembering that I was still wearing Prince Dimitri’s spare clothes and I needed to give those back. I couldn’t just *take* them. I supposed I would have to buy some more weather-conscious garb that was actually my size somewhere. I hoped they would accept Rupees here. Slight issue with that, though– we were currently passing through some sort of main square, and I realized I couldn’t actually read the glyphs on the storefronts– provided that these were actually storefronts. From what vague and unconvincing views I had, I felt fairly confident in wagering that the cadence and structure of Fódlan’s writings–

Do not use the evangelized name, Katáktisi snapped. This continent is called Fodra . That bastardization will not leave your lips. 

Touchy subject? I replied.

I felt fairly confident in wagering that the cadence and structure of Fodra’s writings would be the same as Hylian, just with different shapes. It would be annoying, but I could do it if I really wanted to.

Better , the Fierce Deity lauded.

The clock struck five o’clock, and I almost had a complete mental breakdown.

It was the damn bells that got me– the warning bells of Termina, moved into strange non-clock towers and ordered to call out the time to a busy city. It wasn’t the same tune or even the same tone, but it was similar enough to thrust me back to the base of Clock Tower, watching with bated breath as the sky turned the color of blood and the moon truly encompassed the entire sky.

I could faintly hear a low shushing sound, gentle as a wind whispered inside my head. The note anchored me, soothed me in a way that I hadn’t felt since before my journey through Hyrule. Had Katáktisi done that?

I know not of what you speak, it interjected. Keep your tongue inside your mouth where it belongs. That was surprisingly defensive for a sentient mask of godlike power.

I took a deep breath of the evening air and moved to follow the others, but in the wake of the bells there was another sound. It was the unmistakable stirring in the air of something misshapen being thrown at high velocity. On instinct, I sprinted forward, unslung my shield, and intercepted the object inches before it reached its target– Dedue, for some reason. I had to jump to reach it in time, mostly because it had been launched high. The projectile clattered to the floor with a loud thunk. Closer inspection revealed that it was nothing more than a rock.

“You did not have to do that, Link,” the tall man said flatly.

Dimitri was fuming. “Where did that stone come from?” he demanded. I casually pointed westward. Without another word, the prince marched in that general direction and started screaming something about dusk or something. Was dusk not the traditional stone throwing time in Faerghus? There wasn’t a ‘traditional’ time to throw rocks at passersby in Hyrule, but maybe it was a culture thing. I would have to ask about it later, although given Prince Dimitri’s reaction, maybe it was best to ask Dedue. Clearly it was a touchy subject.

The prince returned, still clearly furious. “I’m sorry, it’s just–”

“It is not an issue, Your Highness,” Dedue assured.

“It seems like a pretty big problem to me,” I blurted.

His struggles are his own, Katáktisi advised. Leave it that way.

I’m not going to let people throw rocks at him for no reason, I asserted.

And why is that?

Because helping is the right thing to do

Katáktisi was silent. Hmm. What is… the right thing?

I hesitated, remembering the moon child who asked me much the same thing. Things that make people’s lives better.

A nebulous concept at best. Better, meaning…

I’m dumbing it down for you. The right thing depends on the situation, just like everything else. Look, now isn’t the time for philosophical debate. Maybe I’ll go further into detail later.

As you wish.

I refocused my attention on the real world. “It is something I have grown used to,” Dedue was saying. “It would be in your best interest to spend as little time around me as possible.”

“And I should do that because?”

Dedue looked at me. I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow.

“I am from Duscur,” he said eventually, as though that was some grand revalation. “To be near me invites misunderstanding.”

Ah. That was it. He was trying to protect me. How… noble. I didn’t quite know what Duscur meant, but I gathered from context that it was a place with some horrible stigma surrounding it. “See, it’s hard to misunderstand someone when you don’t understand them to begin with. And believe me– no one understands kids. So nobody is going to think any more of me if I avoid you. Besides, who cares what other people think anyway? You and Prince Dimitri took me in on the night before last…” The great castle loomed above us as we walked up the first of three flights of stairs. “... So it feels only right that I should try to repay you.”

If Dedue was surprised, or grateful, or dismissive, he did an excellent job of hiding it. Several nearby guards saluted Dimitri as we entered the castle proper. It wasn’t too different from Hyrule Castle, but it somehow felt even more grand and imposing as night fell properly. It only now properly hit me that Dimitri was the prince of Faerghus. His casual demeanor had made me almost forget. I’m glad I hadn’t spoken to him in an equal tone– that would have been extremely awkward. The only sounds were that of our footsteps against the cold air. The great portcullis doors swung shut as we stepped inside.

“Well, I suppose this is it,” I surmised. 

“How do you mean?” Prince Dimitri asked.

“The main point of us traveling together was to get to Fhirdiad,” I explained, “and we are now at Fhirdiad. The only reason I haven’t departed already is because I’m still wearing your clothes– thanks again for that, by the way.”

“Please, don’t mention it,” Dimitri assured. “And I have been doing some thinking– we can’t have you running off into another storm again. I will not have your death on my conscience. Faerghus winters can get even colder than this. So, how about this– I can ask my uncle to give you a small position among the castle staff. You would be granted room and board in exchange for performing castle upkeep. Wha–”

“I’ll take it,” I said, completely serious. This was my chance to learn about Fodra, understand it better. A part of me consumed by wanderlust admonished me for my choice, but my selection was final. If Katáktisi was from this world, I would need to know everything about it.

“Well, I can’t guarantee my uncle will accept. This is all rather sudden, and he and I are not on the best of terms.”

I glanced over my shoulder. There was no one else within whispering distance. “I’m your supposed ‘bastard half-cousin’, right?”

Dimitri suddenly blinked as he processed what I was insinuating. “As much as a part of me wants to watch that scene play out, I would rather not destroy my regent’s reputation. Things have been difficult since the tragedy.”

There was a great, familiar weight to his words. A weight I knew far too well. But the pressure I felt weighing down on the prince’s shoulders dwarfed anything I had suffered under. It was the pain of Navi, dozens of Navis, hundreds, thousands, all clamoring for attention in a cruel, discordant harmony. I could scarcely imagine how Dimitri was holding himself stable under all that pain. I didn’t even know a thing about this ‘tragedy’, but anyone who had felt that profound loss deserved my… sympathy? Loyalty? Pity? Some mix of all three? I wasn’t quite sure, but clearly the boy appeared to be dealing with some issues. I elected not to push any further. As kind as they had been, I barely knew them, and I had no right to barge into their personal lives at present. Eventually, I would ask, but now was not the time.

~~~

I had not slept in a bed in years.

It was probably more like months, honestly. My perception of long-term time definitely had some screws loose. It felt like forever ago. I had forgotten how warm the embrace of real covers were. Sure, I had laid down in the Knife Chamber on a Cycle or two, but I had never actually slept there. During my stays in Termina, I had gotten into the habit of running seventy-two hours without sleep. It wasn’t healthy, but if I fell asleep the moon would fall out of the sky and kill me anyway before I got everything done. I’d been trying to bring my waking hours down to a normal amount, but that was still a work in progress. I typically started to get tired after thirty-six hours or so.

Needless to say, I wasn’t tired yet. It was around ten o’clock– ten past ten, to be exact– but I had slept yesterday. That being said, I didn’t know what else to do with myself now that I was here. I had been given a small room in an isolated corner of the castle to call my own– it really wasn’t much more than a bed and a bedside table. It was more than enough for me, though.

Duke Rufus had been rather easy to convince. From the way Prince Dimitri had described him, I thought it was going to be impossible. But no, a quick introduction and a Green Rupee and he suddenly stopped caring about where I had come from. Weird that Rupees were so coveted in this world. They had been really easy to get in both Hyrule and Termina. I supposed that was just another difference between home and Fodra.

When you say ‘home’, Katáktisi interrupted, do you mean Hyrule or Termina?

I blinked. That’s… a good question. The closest thing I’ve had to a real home is Kokiri Forest.

But you can never return there.

I haven’t ever mentioned Kokiri Forest to you. Why do you know so much about it?

Our thoughts are linked. All that you are is privy to me. Do not fear, I have no intent of digging through your mind. I know little, but I understand that the forest will not welcome you back.

If our thoughts are linked, like you said, then why can’t I see your past?

You could, Katáktisi said, if I allowed you. But I do not.

Why not show me how you do it? We can share thoughts, I suggested.

But then it will not be earned, and I will have deprived you of a victory. A chance to grow.

Is that all you care about? I asked. Claiming victory?

What else is there? You know this well. You fought for victory against Ganondorf. Victory against M… Majora.

I was fighting for a safe Hyrule. A safe Termina. Not just for winning’s sake.

The ends matter not, Katáktisi rejected. You fought them, bested them, and in so doing proved that your strength was greater than theirs. The strength of your ideals overpowered their ideals. And thus, you found victory.

I made a face. I had never really thought about it like that. I wasn’t sure if I agreed with it. I wasn’t stronger than Ganondorf. And I wouldn’t have beaten Majora without you.

If you were truly weaker than them, you would be dead and they would be victorious. All the physical might in the world means nothing if one’s force of will is not just as strong, if not stronger. This child’s body of yours may be impotent, but your spirit’s strength is unquestionable.

That was definitely the closest thing to a compliment I was going to get from the magic mask. Thank you, Katáktisi. I mean that.

The mask had gone silent. But talking to it had given me another idea. Speaking of Kokiri Forest had given me another idea. I hadn’t spoken to Saria since before I left Hyrule. Since before I was sent backwards in time. Oh, how I regretted that decision. Could I even talk to Saria from Fodra? I had never had time to try in Termina. I decided it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. I withdrew my ocarina from my pouch and put it to my lips. I coaxed Saria’s Song from its holes, quietly so as to not unintentionally wake anyone up. All was silent for a moment. I supposed it didn’t work after all.

""Link?""

I stood corrected. The message was garbled and difficult to hear, but it was enough. I knew it. ""Hello, Saria,"" I replied. ""It’s been a long time."" She didn’t know the half of it.

Saria laughed. ""It’s good to hear from you! How are you doing?""

""I’ve been alright, I guess."" I hadn’t. ""I’ve just been wandering. Seeing what’s out there."" That was true enough.

""Still looking for Navi?""

""If she’s out there, she’s out there."" I was over Navi. I was . So why did it still sting? ""I’m not actively searching for her, but if I find her, I’ll be happy."" I just had to keep telling myself that.

""That’s good!"" the ex-Sage lauded. ""When will you be coming back?""

I almost stopped playing. ""I… I don’t know.""

""You– you are coming back, right?""

""I think if I come back, I’ll die.""

""Oh…"" Had she not known that? ""I… we can still be friends, right?""

I grinned, despite knowing that she couldn’t see my face. ""Forever.""

""Then that’s enough for me. We should talk more! I’m always around!""

""Of course, Saria. I’d… I’d like that.""

We shared a friendly silence.

""Well, I should get some sleep."" That was probably true, but I knew I wasn’t getting a wink tonight. ""Talk to you later?""

""Sounds good! See you soon!""

I stopped playing the song, a wave of nostalgia for a time I had never known washing over me. I may have been stuck in another world, but I had a roof over my head and friends both new and old. That was more than enough for me.

~~~

I idly hummed as I strolled through the city streets. Fhirdiad was so much more lively than Castle Town or Clock Town ever had been. The whole city was a great throng of people, and the streets were filled with a cacophonous noise– people mingling, merchants selling wares, kids hollering in the streets as they played. A wave of envy washed over my entire being. Back in Kokiri Forest, I was always more or less pushed to the sidelines by the true Kokiri. It was only Saria and maybe the Know-it-all Brothers who bothered to treat me any differently. Saria did it because she was and still is the friendliest person on the face of the planet, and the Know-it-all Brothers were probably just too enlightened to be racist. Species-ist? Well, that wasn’t fair– nobody knew I was Hylian at the time, so they were probably just Linkist.

Things hadn’t gotten better for me in Hyrule, either. Spending all that time as an adult had really messed me up. I was still half-convinced that my arms were a lot longer than they had any right to be, and I would try to reach things that were way too far away and get frustrated by the fact that my body wasn’t the way it damn well should have been. Being shoved back into a child’s body just made me feel like a cheap glove, stretched to its limits by a fat hand. It wouldn’t fit properly on a smaller hand ever again.

By the time I hit Termina, the games of the Bombers just felt shallow. It was ironic– when I was little, I always wanted to play those games, but now that I could, they were just cheap and empty. They didn’t match me anymore.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” a town crier on the street corner shouted over the din. “Bishop Alexander was found dead! Called the ‘Most Gruesome Murder of the Century’! Culprit still at large!”

Well, now that just had me in a bad mood. I sped up slightly, trying to get out of earshot as quickly as possible. I had work to do, after all.

“Hear ye, hear ye! Lord Lonato continues spouting anti-Church rhetoric! Central Church yet to respond! … Hear ye, hear ye! Largest Almyran invasion in 100 years halted by Holst Sigiswald Goneril! … Hear ye, hear ye! House Gautier bandits spotted in Fraldarius territory! Increased pillaging to the west!”

~~~

It was the near-silent creak of a singular floorboard that alerted me. If not for my Hylian ears, pointed to better hear the voices of the Golden Three, I would have been deaf to the sound entirely. I drew my Gilded Sword from its place in my pouch– it still felt odd to not have it on my back, but I had some comfort in knowing it was always on my person. I held the grip tightly but not too tightly, as I inched out of my room. The noise had come from upstairs, so I quickly located the nearest stairwell and ascended a couple of floors. I was sure to remain perfectly quiet, each footfall making less sound than that endless room in the Water Temple.

I stalked through the corridors, keenly aware of every minute movement and every infinitesimal noise, until I spotted the origin of the noise. There was a person, dressed as one of the castle staff. I couldn’t see their face because of the gloom.

“Hello?” I whispered.

The person froze, then turned to face me. “Keep it down, brat,” his gruff voice snarled after a couple of seconds’ pause. “It’s the middle of the night. You’ll wake everyone up.”

“I could say the same to you. I don’t recognize you. What’s your name?” Admittedly, I should have realized he was inching away sooner. I took a confident step forward. 

“Where are you going?” He didn’t respond. I pressed further. “I said, where are you–”

Something sharp suddenly made itself very known at the base of my still-developing Adam’s Apple. “I’m not hired to kill you , scullery boy. But say another word, and my blade might slip.”

The cover of the darkness may have obscured his visage, but it also blocked *his* vision of me rummaging around in my pouch. My fingers curled around the object of my desire. I channeled the little magic that I had. “I’d like to see you try, dastard.”

The dagger pushed a little deeper–

Nayru’s Love activated just in time. After my trip in Termina, when I returned to Hyrule to return Epona and the Ocarina, I had made a pit stop at the Great Fairy Fountains to pick up more powerful spells. I was sure grateful for that right now. Without it, I’d be one throat poorer.

The force of the spell deadened his attack before it could properly begin, doing little more than a light cut. In addition, the barrier’s loud thrumming and bright light served as an excellent beacon. It illuminated the hallway just enough to see a hulking figure a number of paces right behind the assassin. The killer was none the wiser. “What the fu–”

His sentence was cut off alongside the rest of his head. The rest of his body flopped to the ground, spurting blood from its new opening. Dedue’s axe dripped with the same liquid. There was silence for a moment.

“Well. I guess I have my work cut out for me in the morning.”

~~~

It was just a few splashes of blood. Nothing some good old-fashioned mopping couldn’t solve.

~~~

Our weapons crossed for just an instant before breaking apart again. I backed out of Dimitri’s effective range before lurching forward again. I had to keep up the pressure, keep the momentum going, if I wanted to prevail. If he got enough time to counterattack, I knew I would be lost.

My blade met his lance, and I immediately twisted my grip in order to try to disarm the young prince. However, because of his additional range he was able to disengage pretty easily. My expression twisted. Oh, to be tall again…

I hated my body. It was so viscerally wrong in all the worst ways. I couldn’t count how often I would overextend myself in one way or another, thinking that my limbs were longer, my muscles stronger, that others should treat me like a fellow human being. It was really the last one that got me the most. People treated children like they were incapable of doing anything noteworthy, like they existed to ingest nutrients and eventually become something worth acknowledging. I was interacted with, sure, but every word anyone ever said to me was nothing more than a honeyed knife, delivered with surgical precision to my heart of hearts. Prince Dimitri and Dedue fell on the edge of treating me like someone that could be of use to talk to, but they were only teenagers so they didn’t really count.

Being young, I decided, was the most empty and tedious hell.

No time to reminisce. Keep on the offensive. Strike, slice, disarm and cut through–

Out of nowhere, the crown prince unleashed a brutal swipe that nearly took my head off. It was all I could do to duck out of the way of the attack. Nearly before I could react, the speartip was coming back around again, but this time I managed to block it with my shield. Before Dimitri could pull it back for a jab, I swung at his chest with the blade in my left hand. He was able to block with his off hand, but since that off hand was his own left, his stance became slightly awkward. That was enough give in his guard to throw my very small weight forward, headbutting his somewhat exposed upper torso. Prince Dimitri stumbled slightly, and I used that as an invitation to hit him with as much as I had. I chained attacks as quickly as I could, with as much force as I could muster, but all I could succeed in doing was force the future king back, his defense still more or less unyielding. This was unsustainable, and I had to do something about it if I wanted to claim victory.

Unfortunately, that something turned out to just be ‘lose’.

Within an instant, Dimitri reared up to strike. I rose my shield, and to my great pleasure, I was able to bring it back down to block the deceptive hit from my left. Still, while I may have avoided a hit, the sheer might of the attack was more than enough to knock me clean off my feet. Stupid Crest of Blaiddyd and its stupid super strength…

“Alright, alright,” I admitted to the lancepoint currently aimed directly at my neck.

You’re just going to give up? Katáktisi demanded. 

Well, yeah, I admitted. My throat is currently just a couple of centimeters away from the tip of his lance. He outskilled me, and that’s that.

Mmm… the Fierce Deity hummed. You are… content? Why?

Because I did better against him than I ever had, I explained quickly. My offensive ability has really improved and I finally blocked that accursed feint.

Ah. You were not fighting to win. You fight for self-improvement, it mused. I see.

Exactly.

“You fought well,” Dimitri complimented. “You have improved much since you first came to Fhirdiad.”

“Helps to have something close to a teacher. I thought I had you on the ropes for a moment there.”

“Your speed and strength are certainly formidable, and your technique is coming along. I imagine if I were still your age, the battle would be much more lopsided in your favor.”

“You’re just saying that,” I deflected. I wasn’t used to all this praise. I wasn’t sure if I liked it.

“Rest assured, I do not give out such praise with levity. Say– would you be interested in getting a meal before retiring?”

“Sounds like a plan, Dima.”

~~~

I hate this place , Katáktisi seethed.

I swung my legs rhythmically as I sat, trying to keep myself occupied. They didn’t reach the ground. Of course. You’ve repeated that point several times, and have made no effort to elaborate further.

I do not intend to. Not for a long time.

I pouted internally. Well, suck it up, because we’re not leaving for a while yet. Especially if Prince Dimitri takes much longer…

What on earth possessed you to apply for this farce anyways?

Since you’re so averse to giving answers, I figured maybe the Church of Seiros–

The Fierce Deity bristled.

–would be more willing to teach me about the world.

Better to lack truths than to be fed lies.

A lie is something , isn’t it?

The mask was silent. I blew a strand of hair away from my face before tugging at my collar again. Apparently, my usual garb wasn’t ‘fancy’ enough for this endeavor, and I had to wear more formal attire. I felt like I was being choked.

The church we were at was largely empty– not as empty as the Temple of Time had been, of course, but still fairly devoid of life. There were a few faithful churchgoers near the front of the cathedral, but Dedue and I were the only ones in this particular area. Prince Dimitri was also here, but he was currently occupied– by which I meant he was holed up in an isolated room with some official from the church’s primary seat of power located at the center of the continent. Apparently, they ran a program every year where commoners and nobles alike could meet and learn. They called it the ‘Officer’s Academy’. It was notoriously difficult to get into, but since both Dimitri and Dedue were applying for next year, I figured I might as well throw my metaphorical hat into the ring as well. It wouldn’t hurt not to, and if I got in, I would have the opportunity to interact with those outside of Faerghus. Prince Dimitri had offered to bankroll the tuition fee, but I declined. Apparently everyone was agog over even the smallest of Rupees, going on and on about ‘cut’ and ‘clarity’ and a bunch of other nonsense that I didn’t have the time to bother trying to understand. I dreaded the day they realized it could be found in grass, on trees, and under rocks where I came from. But that was neither here nor there. 

“Tell me about Duke Rufus,” I said.

Dedue did not speak for a moment. “He is a shallow man and a poor ruler. He does not get along with Prince Dimiri– oftentimes he barely acknowledges his existence. You already know this.”

“Nobody’s that one-dimensional,” I tried to argue. Katáktisi buzzed. “That was how he appeared, but… I don’t know. Maybe there was more to him. I’m really just trying to make a bit of conversation while Dimitri’s still in there.”

We were currently in this church to take interviews for the Officer’s Academy. There had been a first step of a written application, which we had already completed. I guess they liked ours, because we were all directed to come here for the second phase. I wasn’t expecting to even get this far, as I had only been here for a year and I was, well, still a child. While there wasn’t technically a minimum age requirement to apply, I was under the impression that the academy was more targeted towards people of Dimitri and Dedue’s age– eighteen to twenty or so, if I had to estimate. By contrast, I was going to be twelve by the start of the school year. But I might as well shoot my shot, right?

Dedue was contemplative. “He is the prince regent, the elder brother of His Highness’s father. I believe he was passed over in the line of succession due to not having a Crest.”

There was that word again. Crest. I had heard it thrown around so damn often– in the courts, it was all anyone talked about. But nobody had ever given me a definition. I had never formally asked anyone, as I had been busy poring over as much information about this world as I could. I didn’t want to be completely ignorant. “What… are Crests?”

Silence. “You are entirely aware of His Highness’s strength. That is a result of his Crest.” Hah. Was I aware of Dimitri’s strength? I spent every other morning nearly having my arm shattered whenever I blocked an attack from him. That man hit harder than Ganon and then some. “It is… a mark of his royal lineage.”

“So it’s super strength passed through bloodlines?”

“It is more complicated than that, but that is the basic concept.”

Dedue was about to say more, but we were interrupted by Prince Dimitri entering the area. He must have completed his interview. “He’s ready for one of you.”

“I can wait,” the Duscurian assured.

“If Dedue doesn’t want it, I can go first.” Katáktisi did the closest thing to a sigh it was capable of, although whether it was from dread or relief I couldn’t tell. Regardless, I hopped off of the pew and traced the prince’s steps to a small back room. It appeared to be some sort of confessional. It was set up with two rickety chairs and a small table, with an elderly priestly man seated on the other side of the room.

He appraised me for a couple of seconds. He clears his throat. “Erm, excuse me, boy– this room is reserved for applications for the Officer’s Academy. Would it be possible to–”

Kill him, Katáktisi snarled. I pointedly ignored it. “No, that’s correct. I’m here for the interview,” I confirmed. “I understand that my age may be surprising, but my written application was accepted.”

“Perhaps we should require a minimum age for entry,” the man muttered softly. Mildly miffed, I took a seat across from the interviewer. He looked me over again with a slight twinkle in his eye. He seemed nice enough, certainly not warranting Katáktisi’s demands for blood. It had to learn that someone being a member of an organization it hated was not good grounds for murder. “What is your name?”

“Link Harkinian,” I responded. I had come up with that last name myself with a few suggestions from Katáktisi, and to be quite frank I was rather proud of it. It suited me. “It’s nice to meet you. What’s yours?”

“You may call me Gareth. Would you like to get started?”

“As you wish,” I replied, making sure that my ears were still hidden behind a stray lock of hair. I wasn’t wearing my hat. Lumiere from Castle Blaiddyd– a nice old lady who had helped me get settled into life in Faerghus and, more importantly to the task at hand, get ready for the interview– said it wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead, I had to deal with this incredibly uncomfortable formalwear. It might have been another hand-me-down from Prince Dimitri, but at least it sort of fit. Didn’t make it any less comfortable

“I have your written application here,” Gareth revealed, shifting some papers around. “I admit, some of it does not make sense to me. “For example, you put only question marks in your date of birth, and the name and details of your home region are entirely missing.”

The ride to the church was slow and methodical. At least the weather was a little nice. Warm enough, but not too hot. The real problem was the accursed humidity. Winter may have been freezing, but at least the air was crisp.

“What do I say if he asks where I’m from?” I asked.

“You could say you’re from Fhirdiad,” Dimitri suggested. “Since you have lived here, it isn’t an untruth.”

“It doesn’t feel right. I don’t really…feel like I belong here.”

“You should tell the truth,” Dedue added.

“But–”

“Simply say that you grew up in a forest and only ventured into the outside world just before this year.”

I didn’t say anything for a moment. “You’re a genius.”

“I can imagine that that would be quite problematic,” I assured. “There is a reasonable explanation for their absence. I grew up in a small community deep in the forests north of Arianrhod. We were maybe fifty people strong, and we never had any communication with the outside world. I met Prince Dimitri in Pegasus Moon last year, when I was separated from my family by the hugest blizzard that had ever swept through. I would have died of hypothermia if not for stumbling across his camp.”

The priest nodded. “This past winter has been quite brutal. My condolences.”

Are you serious? Katáktisi demanded.

Shove it, I snapped back. To my surprise, it actually obeyed.

“Why do you think you would be a strong choice for the Officer’s Academy?” Gareth was saying.

“If I understand it correctly, the purpose of the Academy is to allow different classes and cultures to mix in a positive way,” I said. “I think my unique perspective being an outsider to Fodra entirely, unbiased by local or general politics, would have a positive effect on the academy.”

“Are you at all familiar with the teachings of the Church of Seiros?”

I grimace despite myself. “Well–”

Apparently, that was all the answer he needed, because his expression immediately soured. “I see.”

As I said.

Katáktisi. For the last time. Shut up.

“It's the Blue Sea Moon now, so I have only been in Fhirdiad for six months at most,” I quickly elaborated. “I have been focusing all of my efforts into learning about the continent and its culture– in truth, I could neither read nor write until far into the Lone Moon. I have not gotten to study much of religion, so my knowledge is nascent at best. However, I am more than willing to devote more time into that area if it were necessary.”

Gareth’s face did not change. I tugged at my collar, trying to ignore the awkward silence.

“How would you describe your ability to issue and follow orders?”

“Fairly strong,” I said, thankful that we were onto a different subject.

“What would you say is your greatest strength?”

“My drive to help others, no matter who they may be,” I answered in a heartbeat.

“And your greatest weakness?”

“Most likely my ignorance of this world.”

“This world,” Gareth repeated slowly, brow furrowed. I tried not to flinch. Shoot. I needed to choose my words more carefully

You are terrible at this, Katáktisi remarked snidely.

That is both hurtful and accurate, I relented. “Where I grew up is completely different from here. It feels like another world.”

Thankfully, the holy man seemed to accept this explanation. “You mentioned your meeting with Prince Dimitri in your application. Could you talk a bit more about that?”

“What if they ask me what I was doing when I met you? It is… very suspicious, and I can’t imagine saying ‘I came from the Perpendicularity’ would be a good idea.”

Dimitri peered over my shoulder at the ornate parchment. “How long have you… been working on this?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t stopped.”

“You– you do realize that means it’s been nine hours , right? Dedue and I retired for bed last night, and you were still seated here. Have you slept?”

“I slept yesterday, and it’s better to overthink something than to underthink it.” I thought that was fairly obvious.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot fathom how you continue to operate like this, and remain so… lively. I know at your age, I couldn’t stand still for nine minutes, much less nine hours.”

“Judging what else you’ve told me about yourself when you were my age, you’d have snapped the quill between your fingers a thousand times over by now,” I replied.

The prince laughed goodnaturedly. “That does sound like something I would have done. Well, I have a few free hours– I’ll help you brainstorm…”

“I was out hunting with my mom,” I began. “It was my first time– I knew how to, of course, but I had never done it myself– so I was sticking to her like mortar. Problem was I was making too much noise, and scaring off the game. So she showed me a good spot to gather herbs and berries so that I could do that instead. Then the snowstorm came out of nowhere. I tried to make my way back home, but I just couldn’t find it. I wandered for hours, and I must have walked for dozens and dozens of kilometers. I felt like I was about to pass out, but I saw… a road through the forest. I followed it and found an encampment. I tried to stick close to one of the enchanted fires to warm myself up, but I was… spotted. At this point, I was scared out of my mind– I didn’t know if these heavily armored men were going to attack me– so I blindly ran into a somewhat nearby tent. The next thing I remembered was waking up on the ground in Prince Dimitri’s personal quarters. I’m told that I tried to fight off both the prince and his vassal and, of course, failed miserably. But the prince offered to bring me to Fhirdiad, and we’ve been friends ever since. I work with the castle staff in exchange for room and board.”

Gareth thought for a moment. He muttered something I couldn’t quite make out, even with my Hylian ears. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said eventually. I said nothing. We sat in silence for some time. Eventually, the priest picked up his papers and hit the edge against the table a few times, putting them back in order. “Well, I believe this is as good a stopping point as any. Please expect a letter in the Verdant Rain moon affirming your status. I wish you the best of luck, Mr Harkinian.”

I blinked in surprise. It was over already? Sheesh, I overestimated this. “Thank you, sir,” I replied politely, before standing and exiting the door. “Shall I send the next applicant in?”

The old man smiled. It did not reach his eyes. “Yes, please do.”

I closed the door behind me. Now all there was to do was wait.

I think that’s enough of that. Hooray. As I’m writing this, Three Hopes is being released, and it looks really good! I don’t think I’m going to incorporate too much of it into Closed Circuit, as I’m not as familiar with it as I am with Three Houses, but I’ll try to do what I can.

Review please!

Gypsum (AO3): Huh, I didn’t know that! I workshopped with a personal skill ‘Walking Arsenal’ which just gave Link extra inventory slots, but eventually I threw that out because it didn’t really have the sense of momentum that I wanted him to have. The stats aren’t really going to come up all that much– it was more just for me to workshop where Link falls skillswise relative to the rest of the cast.

Backpack Bandit (FF): I tried to tread the fine line between ‘competent’ and ‘experienced’’. I would argue that Link in CC is very experienced… but not against any of the opponents he’s going to be fighting. I thought I expressed that fairly well with the sparring session of last chapter. Thank you very much for the feedback!

Terracotta Tortilla (FF): In general, I prefer to go off of the in-universe story as opposed to game mechanics when it comes to power levels. While Link is the Hero of Time and he's pretty good for his age, Faerghus is a country where kids are taught how to fight before they learn to write. Ten years old sounds early to start fighting by our standards, but for them that's really late. I think that arguing that Link is 'incredibly weak' because he can't take down Dimitri, the physically strongest character in Three Houses both by stats and by lore, who has trained in the lance for his entire life, without items isn't really a fair comparison. If you were to compare Link at this stage in his life to, say, Caspar, then that would be a different story because the playing ground is a lot more level. Link also has the disadvantage of being eleven at this point in the story. And as we all know, when two opponents have equal strength, the one with the height advantage wins… and Waldemar von Hevring could beat your father in a fight. (That's a reference to the Linhardt-Caspar support that fit too well for me to not include.)

Now, if Link were to use his items, then that would be different and Link would have a much stronger chance of winning. That's how he takes down Ganondorf-- can you really say that Link could have beaten Ganon without the Light Arrows that remove his invincibility? A spar, unlike a life-or-death situation such as the fight against Ganon, is a controlled environment. It's a time to train and improve as a fighter. Using his items as a crutch for his weaker technical skill would only hurt him in the long run, as opposed to putting in the work to improve that technique. In hindsight, I could have perhaps elaborated on this more in the actual story, and I take responsibility for that.

Sorry for the Ted Talk, I just wanted to explain my perspective. Thank you very much for the review, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

Liquid01 (AO3): Don’t worry– this fic gets updated on the first of every month. Thanks for your interest!

Chapter Text

Okay, so… apparently, FFnet was automatically deleting my line breaks? As well as the specialized quotation marks I was using for Saria? Thanks, FFnet. Gave me a heart attack.

Anyways, happy new year! Here’s a new chapter!

Chapter IV

The Navi-shaped hole in my chest stung a bit more than usual today.

I still felt her absence. It was as though I had been born with an additional finger on my hand that had just been amputated. Even though it was gone, and now I was no different from anyone else, its nonexistence still hurt.

She asked me what I was doing. She asked me what was so important in Fodra, that would drive me to stay put despite it having been so clearly examined. She asked me why I had bound myself to these dangerous people, people with power in their blood and blood on their minds. She asked me when I was moving on.

Worst of all, she asked me if the face beneath my mask was my true face. To be entirely honest, that was a question I had long been asking myself.

I rallied my thoughts and moved on. It was the only way I knew to silence those nagging questions. I felt that I barely had an answer. Were it not for Dimitri and Dedue, and their kindness on that day so many months ago now, I would be dead. If I had survived without them, would I want to stay? I couldn’t answer, and that made me feel fear in a way that I hadn’t ever felt before. For the first time, I was starting to question why I had been searching for Navi, what horrid part of me she had torn away when she left.

She shooed away the question, demanding I got going already and picked up the search. I pointedly told her to stop. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her to go away. I had not left Hyrule again to find her. I was over Navi. I was.

So why couldn’t I stop thinking about her?

~~~

My hands were sweaty, but not so sweaty that I was staining the parchment. Dimitri and Dedue had both received acceptance letters to the Officer’s Academy a couple of days ago, but mine hadn’t arrived until just now, on the first of the Horsebow Moon. Had they been taking their time with it? Maybe they just needed to think about it more. I’m sure an application from someone as young as me was unorthodox, to be sure, but I was living proof that competence and age were not necessarily correlated. And now, in my hands… was a letter bearing the red wax seal of the Church of Seiros.

You feel… apprehension, Katáktisi remarked. Why?

I want to know if I got in, I replied. It would suck to have to stay in Fhirdiad if Dimitri and Dedue are gone. They’re really the only friends that I have that are close to my age.

Haven’t you existed for only eleven years?

Time travel, I said hotly.

Being comatose doesn’t count. The mask was quiet for a long second. Comatose means not conscious.

I was not about to admit that I hadn’t known what the word ‘comatose’ meant until it had elaborated. Even still, I’m at least thirteen with all my time in Termina.

You are not entirely incorrect, but the vermin of the Church will never recognize that.

I still didn’t understand Katáktisi’s hatred of the Church– it didn’t seem entirely horrible to me. Sure, it was more involved in daily life than any of the religious institutions in Hyrule whose names I weren’t aware of, but it didn’t seem actively malicious. None of my finely-honed instincts were being particularly alarmed by it. At least, not more than the systems it perpetuated.

I broke the waxen brand and unfurled the parchment, revealing the results. I read aloud, slowly and carefully, still subconsciously stumbling over the unfamiliar language.

“Dear Mr Harkinian,” I announced. “Thank you for your interest in the Officer’s Academy. Our Admissions committee has reviewed your application and interview transcript. However, we have received many strong applications this year…” My heart sank. “… Therefore, after careful consideration, we have elected not to offer you a seat at our institution. Please understand that this is not a negative evaluation of your application, but rather a reflection of our rigorous requirements and criteria for accepted students. We suggest a further expansion of knowledge of Fódlan and the Church, and filling out another application in a number of years.”

Do you see? Katáktisi said snidely. They think you are a witless child. Well, of course they did. It was kind of obvious and not entirely untrue.

“Once again, we appreciate your courage to send us an application, and wish you every success in your future endeavors,” I continued. “Sincerely, Set… eth. Headmaster.” I let out a breath. “Guess that’s that.”

I don’t know what you were expecting.

You don’t hit any targets with the arrows you never fire, I reasoned.

I concede that.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Dimitri’s voice echoed. He must have walked in while my back was turned. That was somewhat embarrassing. Tatl would have never let me live it down. “I’ll admit, I am not surprised. The Officer’s Academy is notoriously difficult to get into.”

“I’m entirely aware of that,” I reminded, perhaps a bit too harshly. “There was no harm in trying.”

Dimitri’s eyes narrow, his icy gaze locked onto the envelope still in my hand. “Strange. Link, did you get a second letter? There’s still something in the envelope.”

I blinked. “There is?” I turned the ornate container over and flipped it open again. Lo, there was a second piece of paper– smaller and less ornate than the formal rejection, but still there nonetheless. Somehow, I hadn’t noticed it the first time around. “Did you get one of these?”

“I did not,” the prince confessed. “What does it say?”

“Hm… ‘Dear Link,’” I began. “‘If you have not already read the other letter in this envelope, please do that first. While I am sure you are saddened by the enclosed rejection, I had the opportunity to review both your initial application and the transcript of your interview. Considering your age and your circumstances, they were quite impressive. I am writing this additional letter to extend an opportunity to you. Garreg Mach Monastery has several positions available for youths in situations like yours. If you would be willing, I could arrange for you to come to Garreg Mach in one such position. You would be working on monastery upkeep as well as other assigned tasks. Please contact me via letter at your earliest convenience.’

“‘Sincerely… Seteth. Headmaster.’” I looked up at Prince Dimitri. “I guess I got fast-tracked instead.”

He laughed. “I suppose so. Do you think you’ll take it?”

“It sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime,” I admitted. Katáktisi rumbled furiously in the back of my mind. I ignored it, like I normally did when it came to matters of theology. “I think I would have to be a fool not to.”

“Then I’ll just have to see you in… eight months or so. The academy year begins in the Great Tree Moon.”

“You’ll just have to. Maybe I’ll be able to beat you in a spar by then.”

“At the rate you’ve been improving? I’ll have my work cut out for me, Link.”

I grinned. “Want to test that?”

~~~

Steel met steel with a loud clang . With almost no time to react, I ducked beneath a horizontal sweep, avoiding the spearhead by only hairs’ lengths. I swung for Dimitri’s legs, which were closer to me because I was shorter, but he was able to get his weapon in the way just shy of his limbs. I feinted left before unleashing a counterclockwise spin attack– normally, I performed my Spin Attacks clockwise, as I was left-handed, but I was hoping to catch my opponent off guard after my initial deception. Unfortunately, Dimitri was still two steps ahead of me, and had already blocked once again. I backed off, wiping a sweaty bang of hair away from my eyes. The prince wasted no time, putting all of his weight into a brutal spear thrust that would surely pierce my ribcage if it connected.

If was a small word, but it so often made all the difference.

I threw a Deku Nut.

The flash gave me more than enough time to dance around the attack. Once, I would have felt bad about using an advantage like this, but if Prince Dimitri lost to it, it was his own fault for failing to adapt, as Katáktisi put it. That being said, I didn’t want to bring everything to bear. Bombs and bombchus, masks, magic arrows, Great Fairy spells, and other things I had acquired from my trip were strictly off-limits. Deku Nuts just made a bright flash, and the Spin Attack was a sword technique that used a dash of magic so honestly it didn’t count. I felt alright using them.

The boar prince didn’t even flinch. However, I could tell his visibility was severely reduced by the way he squinted beneath his messy locks and how he didn’t immediately follow up when I sidestepped his thrust. That gave me plenty of time to ram the pommel of my sword into the wooden shaft of the royal’s lance, smashing it into splinters. I breathed out, haggard from the exertion. Was that… had I done it? Had I won?

The sudden blunt pain in my midsection rejected that hypothesis. That was surely going to bruise. I recollected my thoughts and lunged forward once again. At once, my momentum was completely halted as Dimitri dropped both ends of his shattered lance, grabbed my sword mid-thrust, and bent it ninety degrees like it was made of dough. I silently thanked Farore that these were just training weapons. If he had done that to the Gilded Sword, I would have been livid. The training ground fell– well, silent was the wrong word, the sound of combat was still loudly echoing throughout the area. But the fight between myself and the prince was decidedly a matter only of interest to historians. I had lost. As usual.

It is only natural, Katáktisi assured. He has stolen blood that you lack. And the culture of Faerghus is battle and honor. You will never best the prince if you continue to hold yourself back.

That’s the point? I countered. Using you, or the other spoils of my travels, would only cheapen any victory I had. If and when I win, I want it to be a result that I was stronger, that my ideals are stronger, not because I pulled a win condition out of thin air. Besides, if I continue to rely on my stuff to bridge the gap between our skill levels, then my skill will never improve. I’ll just be stagnant.

You would use my own words against me? The mask lauded.

To claim victory? Anything.

“You continue to surprise me,” Dimitri was saying. “What in Fódlan was that flash? There are still spots in my eyes!”

“Deku Nut,” I explained, rummaging through my pouch and procuring three. “They’re from where I’m from– they don’t grow well in the cold. They evolved a self-defense mechanism where, when you hit them too hard…” I threw it, making sure to block my eyes. Dimitri did the same, fortunately, as the loud bang and vibrant light filled the area.

“How many other strange objects do you have in there…?” he asked once it subsided.

In response, I pulled out the Great Fairy’s Sword.

“... On second thought, I don’t think I want to know.”

~~~

Oh, the joys of wearing my Kokiri tunic.

It breathed flawlessly, which would be helpful as I headed south. I had gotten perhaps a little used to the heavier furs of Dimitri’s hand-me-downs– it was almost eerie how well they fit. They were certainly better for the ungodly cold temperatures of Faerghus. But my tunic was easy to wash, and it hid grass stains and bloodstains very well. It reminded me of home, and before the nightmares of the future Hyrule and Termina. It was utilitarian, what with the pair of belts and all. I could still scarcely believe that Lumiere had tried to convince me not to bring my tunic at all. Obstinately I had consented, only to smuggle it in when her back was turned. I felt a little bad, but… it was my tunic.

I liked my tunic.

Already, the air was getting warmer. I had heard of the mugginess and heat of the Verdant Rain Moon, especially potent closer to the Adrestian Empire, but this was the first time I was feeling it. It smelled like rain, but that may have just been the humidity.

And there it was.

Looming above the rolling hills, surrounded by rings of tall walls, sat Garreg Mach Monastery. I peeked out of the cart, ignoring the clip-clopping of the horse pulling the buggy towards the castle. The wagon was a rickety old thing, chosen for cost and efficiency more than anything. It was more than enough to move me from Fhirdiad to the center of the continent.

I will reiterate– this is the worst idea that has ever flickered into your skull mush , Katáktisi said. I ignored it. I was beyond its insistence that all things church were evil and should be purged without hesitation. My willingness to learn more about Fodra– by any means necessary– was utterly unabated. It was cloudy, heavy with moisture, but it was not falling just yet. All in all, not the most foreboding atmosphere imaginable.

By the time the cart reached what appeared to be the true entrance, I was blown away at its sheer scale. Everywhere in Fodra just seemed so… big. Never in Hyrule had I felt quite so dwarfed, even by the sinister opulence of Ganon’s Tower. Termina didn’t count because it was impossible to feel large next to a falling moon, and that took up a lot of my attention anyway.

In Hyrule’s defense, you were seventeen. You’re rather miniscule nowadays.

What has you in such a mood?

Do I really have to answer that?

I sighed as the cart stopped. I drummed my hands on the end of my shield, which I had unslung to idly polish while I was waiting. Sure, the screaming face of the Mirror Shield might raise some eyebrows, but I thought it would be better than the competing religious imagery of my Hylian Shield. I could hear someone talking to the driver outside, muffled by the soft pitter-patter of a newborn rain. I liked the rain. It reminded me of long days in the Knife Chamber, plotting my next move with Tatl; of the basin in the Gerudo Desert filling with water after a long drought; of the windmill in Kakariko Village, and the horrible well and those damn rotting arms–

Now that I thought about it more, why on earth did I like the rain?

“Heya. You wouldn’t happen to be ‘Link’, would ya?”

I shook myself from my doldrums and glanced at the speaker. He couldn’t have been much older than me, honestly– thirteen or fourteen, if I had to estimate. His skin was dark; not quite Gerudo levels of dark, especially combined with his shaggy black hair, but still a lot more tan than most people in Faerghus. Maybe he was from the same place as Dedue? Duscur, was it? That sounded reasonable.

“That would be correct,” I confirmed. This couldn’t possibly be Seteth, right?

With how much of an insult the Church is, I would almost not be surprised.

Be a little realistic, Katáktisi.

“What’s your name?” I followed up.

“Oh, name’s Cyril!” the newly christened Cyril introduced. “Seteth asked me to pick you up. You’re going to be working here, right?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, fully exiting the cart and standing on equal ground with my escort. Finally, someone who wasn’t taller than me. It felt like everyone in Fodra was either a toddler– like myself– or a giant. “I actually signed up for the Officer’s Academy, but got rejected because I don’t know much about the Church. But because of my circumstances, Seteth said I could live here for a while and do upkeep and stuff. And now here I am.”

“Why would you sign up for the Officer’s Academy?” Cyril asked as we stepped through the colossal archway into the monastery proper. “It was pretty obvious that you weren’t gonna get in.”

Rude, but fair. I took a moment to wring what little water there was out of my hat. “The arrows that never leave your quiver never hit their marks,” I said. “Besides, some of my friends were applying, so I figured I might as well throw my hat into the ring. They were accepted, though, which is good for them and all, but…”

The church was opulent and, perhaps not surprisingly, full of people from all different walks of life. Outside, there had been a number of merchants set up in spite of the rain. Inside, there were faithful pilgrims, armored knights, current students of the Academy, holy folks, and more. Statues of presumably religious figures lined the walls, which we completely ignored as we walked up the steps of the entrance hall. The faint scent of food emanated from what appeared to be some kind of dining hall off to the left, but we ignored that too. Just as well, as it was nowhere near mealtime yet.

Continuing down the entryway led us right through the Officer’s Academy. I could tell that that was what it was, given the red, blue, and gold flags everywhere. And like the flags,

Their accursed stench smothers this place. It was like the Fierce Deity had finished my thought for me. I longed for the ability to shield my mind from its gaze. I needed to work on that more. I had been… a little busy for the last couple of months.

Wh-whose?

The traitors, the destroyers, the vermin– the Fell Star and her spawn. I was just going to pretend like I understood any of that. Admittedly, I had been gleaning some useful information through all of my upstairs neighbor’s snide remarks. The Church of Seiros, following the teachings of the aptly-named Seiros, was actually evil and controlling the world– according to the bloodthirsty magical mask, which of course was a wonderfully unbiased source of information.

Your sarcasm is not appreciated.

Apparently we hadn’t even entered the real monastery yet, because Cyril and I were soon dumped back into the rain on a bridge connecting the academy section to an even more massive edifice. The following building was much more churchlike– I could hear the organ playing from all the way on the other side of the parapet. The distinct flapping of giant winged lizards and flying horses was audible over the pitter-patter of the rain. Fodra was full of weird creatures like that– wyverns and pegasi, they called them. They were apparently domesticable, but I wasn’t riding any living creature into the sky anytime soon. I’d be about as useful as Tingle.

Actually, now that I thought about it, that really wasn’t a fair comparison. At least Tingle made maps.

The heavy, oaken doors to the church swung open on well-oiled hinges. The stench of myrrh and frankincense assaulted my nose, but at least we were out of the rain.

“Must be very lively, living here,” I commented. “All these people everywhere.”

“Yeah. It’s all thanks to Lady Rhea,” Cyril explained. “She’s the archbishop of the Church of Seiros. She’s actually why I’m here, at the monastery.”

Gutless simp.

That’s not very nice, Katáktisi.

“Why do you say that?”

“She found me when I was working for House Goneril,” Cyril continued, entirely unaware of Katáktisi’s litany of insults bouncing around my head. “Instead of leaving me as a war orphan, she gave me a place here. I’m happy to work here for her.” Goneril… that was in eastern Leicester, if my memory served me correct.

We ascended a tucked-away staircase hidden in an offshoot hallway, keeping a fair distance from the center of the cathedral where all the other people were. It was significantly quieter there– the number of people was greatly diminished. Presumably they were all downstairs or somewhere else. Cyril beckoned me into a small, offset office, and–

Katáktisi.

Lost.

Its.

Shit.

Epimenides be damned! it screamed. You leave the dimension for a couple millenia and the Nabateans start breeding like flies! Quickly now— eat its eyes and tear out its heart!

With all due respect, Katáktisi– I flailed about for the right words– what the hell.

Do you not see? The mask raged. The Nabateans are the leeches, the thieves. They have stolen this world from humans, and now humanity bends its knee! For one of the first times, I was outright scared of Katáktisi. It was real terror, not a fear borne of ignorance. Its fury was normally cold, but now it blazed hotter than ever before. I knew that left to its own devices, it would tear down this monastery brick by brick.

Needless to say, that wasn’t a good thing.

How do you know that he’s… um, what was the word you used? Nabbatain?

Nabatean, it corrected. Its green hair gives it away. Its Creststench. It cannot be anything else.

Prince Dimitri has the Crest of Blaiddyd, I said. He’s not Nabatean. I don’t think…

Blaiddyd’s is diluted. Taken. I approve of it. This foul creature has the source.

You can’t hold the sins of the dead against the living, I argued. Maybe he’s not like the other Nabateans. You have to take these things on a case-by-case basis.

You will understand. In time. I will defer to your judgement for now, my champion. But if the Nabatean scum even so much as thinks of harming a hair upon our head, divorce its head from its shoulders.

I smiled, outwardly as a greeting and inwardly as a confirmation. A hand that lingers on a hot stove is never burned twice, I assured. “You must be Seteth, correct?”

‘Seteth’ looked normal enough outside the dark green hair. His features were sharp and angular, and his expression was serious. There was a certain approachability beneath that stern countenance, though. I was half inclined to like him already. I reminded myself that appearances could be deceiving, like with Pamela’s dad but the other way around.

“I am, Mr Harkinian. Thank you, Cyril.” Cyril was already out the door. I guess he had better things to do, which was fair enough. “First of all, I would like to formally welcome you to Garreg Mach Monastery.” Seteth smiled, probably to attempt to put me at ease. I wasn’t going to give that easily. “I understand that you have not had much opportunity to familiarize yourself with the Church of Seiros. However, I was curious– what do you know about it?”

I couldn’t exactly say ‘well, it’s the representation of the subjugation of all mankind in the hands of a small number of evil green people or something’, as much as the mask wanted me to. “I know the Church of Seiros is the largest singular religion in Fodra–'' I immediately realized my mistake and feigned a powerful cough. Sorry, Katáktisi, but the bastardization is about to leave my lips. “Fódlan, excuse me. It worships the goddess Seiros and her four Saints, who defeated Nemesis and the Eleven Elites in the War of Heroes in Year 0, which is also when the Adrestian Empire was founded. I… think. Also there’s the Western Church of Seiros who doesn’t like the Central Church very much, which is pretty big in the west of Faerghus. I believe that’s everything. I’m aware that my knowledge is very basic or perhaps even entirely incorrect due to my background and my lack of time here.”

Seteth’s expression is neutral. “I’m sure you will learn quite a lot simply by living here. The only major mistake you actually made was switching the goddess’ name for Saint Seiros. Seiros is actually the leader of the Four Saints during the War of Heroes.”

He used the word is instead of the word was, Katáktisi said, suspicious.

What’s wrong with that?

Think. If Seiros is still alive–

That’s dumb, Katáktisi, I asserted. That doesn’t imply Seiros is still alive. Are you seriously arguing that one instance of a grammatical misinterpretation is reason enough to assume that a millennium-old Saint is still kicking?

Grammatical misint–

Is or was are both perfectly reasonable in that sentence. Seiros may no longer be here, but the Church still worships her, and the concept of the Four Saints is still very much alive through said Church. You’re grasping at straws, Katáktisi.

The mask smoldered like a dying flame, but was silent.

“I see. It’s called the Church of Seiros, so I suppose I just mixed them up,” I confessed sheepishly. “I hope I can learn more about it in the future.”

“That is a philosophy that will get you very far.” Seteth seemed appeased. I really was starting to like him. “Back to the subject at hand. Your primary tasks will involve monastery upkeep and management. In addition, you will also from time to time be called upon to perform specialized auxiliary tasks. Beyond that, you are free to do and go as you please.”

I tried to hide my surprise. That was… it? Maybe it was more than it sounded like, and Castle Blaiddyd had been surprisingly difficult to keep spick and span at all times, but with my thirty-six hours days, I typically had a fair amount of free time. I guess I would have less on my hands than I thought. “That sounds wonderful. I am grateful for the opportunity.” I closed my eyes and inclined my head respectfully. Katáktisi retched.

Seteth clasped his hands over the desk. “Since you are new here and the hour is late, I will give you all of today and tomorrow to explore the monastery and meet everyone that you will be working with. It is quite a large place, so I would advise not attempting to cover it all at once. Starting on Wednesday the third, I will assign Cyril to teach you the ins and outs of your duties. By the first of the Wyvern Moon, you will be expected to handle yourself entirely on your own. Is that acceptable to you?”

“Of course, sir,” I confirmed. “Is there anything I can do for you right now?”

“Not at the moment,” he said after a short pause. “I will be sure to let you know if anything comes up. I appreciate your enthusiasm, and I pray that you will come to enjoy your time here.”

I could tell I was being dismissed, so I nodded respectfully before easing the door open and slipping out of the office. If this really was my new life, I would have to get myself oriented– and fast. I walked back towards the main abbey, but something strange caught my sensitive Hylian ears as I passed what appeared to be a small chapel, enclosed on all sides by the hallway. It was… singing? Not completely unusual– this was a place of worship, after all. But the contents of the music were what caught my attention.

“In time’s flow… see the glow, of flames ever burning bright…” Her voice was radiant. Soothing. Almost… motherly.

Seiros’ whelp, Katáktisi fumed. Away from there. It will sense us. Or, to be more accurate, it will sense me.

Will she?

You underestimate its abilities. I doubt that it has not already made itself privy to our conversation.

Seteth didn’t. You were screaming up a storm right in front of him and he didn’t bat an eyelash.

“On the swift… river’s drift, broken memories alight…”

She was facing the entryway. The chapel itself was empty, only featuring a wall of pillars, a great stained glass window that shone with what little light the night had left, and the woman in question. Her dress was opulent, the Crest of Seiros– or maybe merely the insignia of the Church of Seiros– seemingly emblazoned on every scrap of fabric. She bore an elaborate headdress that covered much of her bright green hair.

Worse, she was looking directly at me.

There was no mistaking it. This had to be Lady Rhea, Archbishop of the Church of Seiros.

Do not let down your guard, Katáktisi whispered. She will worm into your mind and dominate it. Completely and utterly.

Well, that’s the thing, I countered. I never let my guard down.

“I do not believe I have seen you before,” the priestess said evenly, a warm and seemingly genuine smile on her face. “What is your name, child?”

I bristled internally at her usage of that last word, but I did not let it appear outwardly. Schooling my emotions had been an important part of surviving Termina and the decayed Hyrule. “My name is Link, Lady Rhea.” I kept my voice calm and my hands still. I could feel its urge to attack seeping into me, the instinct to rend and maim and cut her apart, but I had more than enough strength to block it out. I was no weak-minded fool, as I had been a long time ago; over the course of the last couple months, I had been training myself to resist the mask’s more insidious commands in preparation for Garreg Mach. Admittedly, it was still a work in progress, but it was better than nothing.

“A fine name indeed,” she complimented, not even appearing to be lying. Strange– I had been told that ‘Link’ was a pretty stupid name, and I couldn’t even disagree on that front. “I recall that Seteth mentioned your application to the Officer’s Academy. I understand that your background is very different from many other residents of Fódlan. I pray that the residents of the monastery offer a passable substitute for what you have lost.”

Had my origin story in this world not been a complete fabrication, I might have been insulted. “It is alright. I have had a long time to come to terms with what happened. Even still, I appreciate your words.” I tossed a glance backwards. Still, no one was eavesdropping on this conversation.

“I am glad to hear it. You will be staying here at the monastery, will you not?” I nodded, although I knew she knew the answer already. “Please make yourself acquainted with the other members of our community. I look forward to seeing more of you in the future.”

“Myself as well,” I replied, gratefulness that I could end this conversation seeping into my words. “I believe I should get to that right now; you will have to excuse me. Thank you very much for this opportunity.”

Rhea laughed softly. “You should thank Seteth. It was he who extended the opportunity for you to come here.”

“I will do that. Still– thank you.”

I inclined my head and showed myself out, trying to ignore the sounds of Katáktisi calling for her head. Living here was shaping up to be a difficult and dangerous thing. But where better to find the truth of Fodra than here?

Seteth is the best dad, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

Review please!

Terracotta Tortilla (FF): I genuinely did not remember writing that until you pointed it out. It’s mostly hyperbole on Link’s part– he is approximately eleven, after all. To be honest, though, Ganon was never that strong in Ocarina of Time. He does, at max, four of twenty hearts of damage with his strongest attack and it’s pretty easy to avoid (I’ve beaten OOT shieldless and never took damage from him). And FE characters get stupid OP at later levels– Dimitri canonically has god juice flowing through his veins that give him Hulk-tiers of strength. That’s not to say that your point is unjustified– like I said, it’s hyperbole. Pre-timeskip Ganondorf probably outclasses pre-timeskip Dimitri, and I apologize for not making the fact that it was an exaggeration clearer.

NightmareKnight1 (FF): I’ve been typing this for… a while. When I started, I was initially planning to wait until the whole story was completed to start uploading it, but I realized that if I uploaded once a month, I’d have a whole year to write more chapters, which is… probably  enough time to wrap it up. Thanks for pointing out the linebreak thing, it is now updated!

AXCN (AO3): I wouldn’t describe Katáktisi as a ‘brain gremlin’ so much as a ‘brain troll’. It’s not as analytical as Arval and it’s not a god like Sothis, but it’s… more so just jacked out of its goddamn mind. I actually wasn’t intending to use the Fierce Deity as much as I currently am when I was first writing the story, but then the first Three Hopes trailer came out and I was like ‘damn, that white boy has the Fierce Deity marks. I should work that into the story.’ Suffice to say… I have plans™.

ZeldaOwl (FF): The glow-up is going to happen, but we’ve gotta build up to it. Thank you for your interest!

Bad_Kobold (AO3): Aside from his Health, Luck, and Defense, all of his raw stats are above average. His Black Magic list is mediocre until Bohr X, and a weakness in Flying basically prevents him from going into the best class in the game (Wyvern Lord). His personal ability is very weak in the early-game but gets better as he does. The Crest that he doesn’t have is stupid strong as it’s basically a diet Amyr at all times. However, proficiency in Bows and Riding is really good. He’s definitely above average in total, but not the strongest around. I thought about also giving him a weakness in Heavy Armor, Authority, or Reason, but I decided against those because the Hero’s Shade wears some pretty complicated armor, Young Link is in Warriors (I’m considering Warriors noncanon but it’s still something to consider), and reasons I’ll get into, respectively.

Sarah (AO3): I deleted your comment because I’m pretty sure ‘random characters plus a website link that’s probably a virus’ is, uh, bad. I didn’t click on it. If it wasn’t a virus, I’m sorry, but I can’t be too careful.

James Birdsong (FF): Thank you!
X (AO3): That’s very interesting! I’ll admit, I didn’t really think all that much about the topology of Kokiri Forest. I had just assumed it would be the same year-round because it makes tracking Link’s exact physical age more difficult, makes his ill-preparedness for Faerghusian weather more understandable, and contributes to the Lost Woods’ timeless nature.

Chapter Text

I decided to get myself back into the feel of Fire Emblem, so I picked up the only Fire Emblem game I’ve ever owned– Awakening. The story isn’t all that great, but every time Donnel Tinhead, Destroyer of Worlds smacks some poor fool straight into the Backrooms, I fall in love with the game again.

Chapter V

Kneel.

The command scrabbled for purchase in my mind, and in that moment I wanted nothing more than to drive my knees into the stone floor so hard that both broke. I drew in a breath, using the feeling of air filling my lungs to stabilize myself. I would not give in to this order. Not now, not ever.

Keep trying, Katákt– I gloated, and in that very moment of derisively commenting on my victory, I found myself prostrating, my head so low that my nose was all but touching the ground.

Do not celebrate a victory unwon, the dark god scolded. The pests can and will use any opening they can worm themselves into. You must remain ever vigilant.

I rolled my eyes. Where Katáktisi had once been indifferent at best to helping me train my mental barricades, the addition of Seteth and Rhea to the metaphorical equation had galvanized it entirely. Now it had the added benefit of making myself resolute to the Nabateans as well as the mask.

While I was here, on the ground, I might as well scrub a little harder. Maybe training with the mask while simultaneously wiping up a spill in the mess hall was a bad idea, but part of me relished the challenge of multitasking. Besides, it let me get more stuff done, which gave me more free-time, which let me do more research on Fodra and the monastery as a whole.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Oh, hey Cyril,” I replied. “I’m just cleaning off the floor. It gets filthy .”

“But I’m on mess hall duty today.”

“But I’m already halfway done. If you want to help, be my guest, but you don’t have to.”

Cyril folded his arms somewhat confrontationally. “Okay… well, I also need to feed the horses–”

“Did that about an hour ago,” I assuaged. The other boy did not appear particularly enthused, oddly enough. “I also weeded the Officer’s Academy courtyard, polished the statues in the foyer, delivered a stash of contraband material for Shamir to investigate, tracked down a couple of lost items… The wyverns and the pegasi don’t really like me all that much, so you can probably go take care of them if you want.”

His face twisted in discomfort. “I don’t want you ordering me around.”

I blinked. “I’m not ‘ordering you around’. I’m just making suggestions. If you want me to help you with anything–”

“I don’t need your help,” the Almyran replied quickly. “Have fun doing your thing, I guess.”

And with that, he was gone. He seemed mad for some reason. I couldn’t fathom why.

~~~

Thunder Catherine was not, as her name suggested, made of thunder. Disappointing, but not exactly unexpected. I guess that was unrealistic. She wasn’t using her iconic branching sword that usually rested on her hip. Then again, we were on the training grounds, and I supposed it would be pretty stupid to use a Hero’s Relic to beat up training dummies. It was very early in the morning– dawn was only just rearing its head, so the only real illumination came from the lanterns hanging around the area. We were the only two around.

“Hello, Catherine,” I greeted curtly, hoping not to distract her too much. Unfortunately, the Knight of Seiros appeared to be sufficiently distracted.

“Hey… Link, right?” she replied, dragging a gauntlet across her forehead to wipe off the sweat.

I nodded silently. I had to admit, I was slightly surprised. “You know my name?”

“Seteth mentioned it to Lady Rhea a while back, and I overheard,” she explained. “Since I haven’t seen you around here before, I hazarded a guess.” Catherine turned back to the all but disemboweled training dummies. Then she glanced at me. “You’re from Faerghus, right?”

I could see where she was getting at. “I mean, I guess? Look, I’d really hate to distract you from your work. Who knows what crimes those dummies are guilty of.”

She snorted. “The only crime these guys committed is not having staying power! You, though–” She took a deep breath through her nose. “You’ve got something the dummies don’t.”

“A pulse?”

“Well, that. Mostly just the capacity to hit back. You game?”

I rolled my eyes, but took a couple of steps forward. “Live steel?”

“Wouldn’t be worth it otherwise!”

I shrugged. “Alright.” I drew the Gilded Sword from my pouch and leveled it at Catherine. “Your–”

Nearly before I could blink, she was upon me, moving and striking with a cobra-esque celerity. It was all I could do to put my sword in the way of her attack. I tried to move onto the offensive, but a counterthrust forced me onto the backfoot. I danced out of the way of a jab before lunging forward bladefirst, managing to barely scrape her armored thigh and escape unscathed.

Against Prince Dimitri, I wouldn’t have survived that. I guessed the Crest of Blaiddyd was more powerful than the Crest of… Dominic? Macuil? I could never keep the stupid names straight.

Charon, Katáktisi reminded. On your left.

I threw myself to the right without thinking, avoiding a brutal swing by the skin of my teeth. I tried to drive a fist into Catherine’s torso to distract her, but my arm was caught and twisted by her free hand, spinning me a hundred and eighty degrees as my elbow bent against my will. Next, her boot was being planted firmly into the small of my back, shoving me facefirst into the dirt. I spun as quickly as I could, but once I got faceup, the point of a blade was making contact with my neck. Catherine was grinning, though, sweat building on her brow.

“For your age, you’re pretty good,” she complimented.

“That ‘fight’ lasted thirty seconds,” I argued. “Not exactly my best work. I could hold my own against Prince Dimitri for at least a couple of minutes.”

“I’ve fought His Highness before,” Catherine revealed, causing my head to tilt in confusion. “He must have been eight or nine at the time, and I remember saying– ‘Look at that young maiden wielding a giant lance! How adorable!’”

I couldn’t help but allow a chuckle to escape me.

“He actually looked a lot like you,” Catherine mentioned. “You fight pretty similarly, too. His Highness was always more of a full frontal assault kind of fighter.”

“And he was better at it than me,” I finished.

Thunder Catherine waggled a finger dismissively. “You have to take into account the Crest of Blaiddyd. On technical skill, I think you have him beat when he was your age. But something’s holding you back. You’re used to fighting animals, right?”

It was the closest thing I could say to the truth without lying. “Yeah. A lot of the intricacies of person versus person combat are foreign to me. A beast tends to telegraph a thrust a lot more than a person. Plus people feint and scheme to get the upper hand. It’s a big change from what I’m used to, but I think I’ve been making progress– with Prince Dimitri’s help, of course.”

“No kidding! Considering how fast you are right now, it’s just a matter of time before you’re as skilled as the best of ‘em.” She breathed in deep again, like she was trying to pick out an unfamiliar scent in a sea of normal smells. Her nose wrinkled slightly. “Hm,” she mumbled. “Usually I can tell what Crest people have, but… I have no idea about yours.”

She senses me? Katáktisi demanded, sounding for the first time almost afraid.

You’re not a Crest, I said, but I was dubious at best. Truth was, I didn’t really know what the Fierce Deity was on a technical level.

If you must, you may think of me as an… artificial Crest , Katáktisi admitted. A Crest passed on through choice, not by blood.

That… actually explained a lot. If using a Crest could turn me from a normal everyday Hylian child to an eldritch god capable of defeating creatures like Majora, no wonder they were viewed with such import. I vaguely wondered if other people’s Crests allowed them to transform, as Katáktisi did for me. But if that were the case, surely I would have heard about it. Surely it would be common knowledge. If you’re an artificial Crest, then what does that make me? I’m not a normal Crestbearer–

You are not. You are Crestless. But more importantly– you are my champion. You would do well to never forget it.

That was sweet. Or at least, as sweet as the mask ever got.

Oh, right, Catherine. I had almost forgotten about her. “I’m fairly certain I’m Crestless,” I said as confidently as I could. “I don’t have any records of my pedigree, and I’ve never heard stories about my ancestors. If I had one, I think I would know.”

“I can ask Hanneman to run some tests with you,” the knight of Seiros offered. “He’d jump at the chance faster than if you offered Jeritza an ice cream.”

I knew Hanneman and Jeritza. They were professors at the Officer’s Academy. Professor Hanneman was a recognized Crest scholar and researcher first, dubbed the ‘Father of Crestology’. If anyone would be able to piece together that something wasn’t right about me, it would probably be him.

Which is why I could never do as Catherine said.

“I-I think that’s unnecessary,” I tried to deflect. “I don’t really want to know if I have a Crest. I’d be happier if I didn’t.”

You wound me.

You’ll get over it.

~~~

I did not like axes. The weight distribution felt off to me, but I couldn’t think of a better tool to use to chop up this firewood. Sure, I could use the Zora Mask if I really wanted to, but I didn’t want to rely on Mikau’s strength over my own. Also, it would be a lot harder to explain what I was doing if I was an adult fish person as opposed to a busybody child. Not to mention having to explain what a Zora actually was– if how people treated Dedue in Fhirdiad was any indication, they weren’t exactly going to be friendly on first sight. I had to give some credit to my current tool, though, as axes were better than lances: at least I could swing an axe. Lances were all in the thrust. Maybe it was the lingering experience with the Megaton Hammer that swayed my opinion.

“Link?”

I looked up from the grueling task. “Heya, Cyril.”

“We have plenty of firewood, so–”

“Could always use more in case of a cold front. As someone who came from Faerghus, it’s important to never underestimate a bout of frigid weather. Even going into fall.”

“I’m supposed to be handling this sort of thing. I know Seteth gave ya a bunch of stuff to do, so–”

“I took care of a lot of that last night. I have plenty of time. I’ll be able to get this done faster if you pitch in.”

“I don’t want you helping me, Link. I can handle my own duties without you.”

What was wrong with him today? “I never said you couldn’t, but I’m already here and–”

“Just do, like, anything else that I don’t normally do, alright?”

He outstretched a hand, beckoning for the axe. Reluctantly, I passed it to him. I didn’t want to start an argument right now. I guess I could look over those books again. Where had I left them…

~~~

“What do you want?”

Professor Jeritza always sounded drained of life. I knew it wasn’t me, because I had heard him talk to other people in much the same way. He was just like that with everyone. I didn’t mind so much. Besides, I was much more interested in the domino mask that obscured his upper face. As someone who spent three days hundreds of times collecting veneers, I could respect a nice mask when I saw it.

“Am I bothering you, Professor?”

“My ice cream is melting, child. And preemptively– repeatedly asking will not make me more likely to trade my mask.”

“Awwww …” I moped. “Okay, fine. I’ll stop asking.”

“Good.”

Jeritza turned back to his frozen sweet. Fodraese food was so… varied. Vegetable stir-fry, Derdriu-style fried pheasant, spicy fish and turnip stew, eggs beaten to a pulp… it seemed that every day, the kitchen staff came out with some brand new method of putting nutrients into the human body– with a brand new taste to boot. Even if some of them weren’t things I particularly enjoyed– like those nasty fish skewers– it was still interesting to try new things and see what I liked and didn’t like.

But even dining hall food couldn’t help my dour mood. I wasn’t adding a new mask to my collection today. Hiding my dejection, I strode out of the cafeteria and got back to work.

~~~

Magic in Fodra is so strange, I thought. In Hyrule, magic was just… well, magic.

I had just picked up some books from Seteth at 11:18 last night. I think he was a bit surprised to see me up that late, given my physical age, and while I was tired since it had been at least a few hours, I was used to running 72-hour shifts. Besides, I had gone far longer without sleep in the past. I would be fine.

It is not so complicated, Katáktisi countered. ‘Faith’ magic is magic derived from base emotion, often servitude to a higher power, and ‘Reason’ is magic derived from human ingenuity. Ergo, Reason is strictly better.

I didn’t wholly agree with that. Faith made more sense to me than Reason, given what I was reading about them. But even still, there were things about both that eluded me. Faith is ill-defined, I argued. Is it just faith in the so-called goddess of the Church of Seiros? Or can it be faith in any deity, like Din, Nayru, and Farore? Do the blessings I got from the Great Fairies count as Faith or Reason? Furthermore–

Faith, certainly, the Fierce Deity said. Their power comes from your Golden Three.

I was going to fire off more questions, but I heard the sound of the creaking of unoiled hinges. I looked up at the door to Seteth’s study– I had been too absorbed in the books to bother to leave, even after the Nabatean himself did.

Kill him.

No.

“Good evening, Mr Seteth,” I greeted as cheerily as I could, given the demands by my upstairs neighbor to tear his flesh to pieces and consume his blood for its power. The time before dawn counted as evening, right? Calling it morning didn’t feel right. “Wasn’t expecting you to get back this early.”

“It is eight o’clock in the morning, Link,” Seteth informed. Shoot, it was that late? Granted, I didn’t have anything on my agenda for at least a couple of hours, but I was more scandalized that I hadn’t recognized it. I must be getting soft.

“Oh. I see. That makes more sense. Well, in that case, good morning, Mr Seteth.”

“How long… have you been here, exactly?”

“Well, I haven’t left since I last came in, which was last night.”

“You… slept in my office?”

The audacity! I would never sleep in his office! “Of course not! I’ve been working through these tomes. Thank you for giving them to me, by the way. I still don’t really get Faith and Reason magic, but I think it makes a little more sense now. I bet I’ll have a firmer grasp on it by the time I finish the books.”

Seteth appeared perturbed, which was a fair reaction. “I suppose there are worse problems to have than a thirst for knowledge. If I may inquire, though, when was the last time you rested?”

“It’s eight o’clock right now, so… assuming it’s eight on the dot, I last slept twenty-six hours, thirty-two minutes, and five seconds ago,” I said without batting an eyelash.

“You mean to tell me that you have not slept for nearly an entire day? That hardly sounds healthy.”

I shrugged. “Probably, but I’m used to it now and spending anything less than thirty-six hours awake will just ruin my schedule. Speaking of schedule, I should probably get going. The knights just got a shipment of weapons for the armory and I offered to help them unload. Then I volunteered to be a punching bag for one of Professor Jeritza’s ‘lectures’, there’s firewood that needs chopping, I have to wake up Professor Manuela, these books aren’t exactly going to read themselves, and the pegasi need to be taken care of for the morning… It sounds like a lot, but I can handle myself just fine. You don’t have to worry about me, Mr Seteth.” I didn’t want to take up more of his time, so I moved to exit the room.

“Link, could you stay here for a moment?”

I pursed my lips, but obeyed nonetheless. It would be unwise to talk back.

“When you first came to Garreg Mach, I admit I had my doubts,” Seteth stated. “To put it bluntly, you are one of the more… peculiar residents of the monastery. And you are someone with no recorded history, to boot.”

I grimaced. This was not how I wanted today to go. Seteth continued. “However, your work ethic has cemented you as a valuable member of our community. I am not typically inclined to flattery, so I hope you will take my words to heart. I must wonder, though– do you maintain your schedule at the expense of your own health? No one can keep up with that many appointments while sleep-deprived.”

There was silence for a moment. I stared at Seteth for a few seconds. Something bubbled in my chest, and somehow I could not fight it. It was only after the sensation left my lips that I realized what it was.

Seteth was trying to look out for my wellbeing.

And that was the funniest thing I had heard in my entire life.

“Hahahaha! … Haha… You think– you think I’m overworking myself now ?! Hahaha!” I cackled uncontrollably. “Ahah, you have no idea!”

“If this is your idea of ‘not overworking’ yourself, I shudder to imagine what your life looked like before you came to work here,” Seteth grimaced.

It was time to go. Absolutely time to go. I glanced at the door, making it clear just how antsy I was. “Look, I’m sorry but I have to run, bye!”

And without further ado, I was out of the room.

~~~

Hacking at plants was an art I had mastered a long time ago. There was a specific technique that allowed me to level the meddlesome weeds without sacrificing the goodies that sometimes hid in the grasses. Like this chess piece! One of the students in the Officer’s Academy was probably playing and left it here by accident. No matter. It would be easy enough to locate just by asking around. Worst case scenario, I got a free piece of wood that I could whittle into something more useful.

In the grand scheme of things, though, it wasn’t all that useful. Usually I was able to acquire Rupees, Deku Nuts, Magic potions, and even bombs. I guess they didn’t have those in Fodra. How unfortunate. I had already used a bomb to clear some compressed ash in the horse paddock– although I got several gold out of it– and a handful of Deku Nuts to try to apprehend a thief in the marketplace, which unfortunately only made it more difficult for Shamir to capture them. In fairness, I could grow more nuts in the greenhouse with some difficulty. But bombs did not appear to be a renewable resource in Fodra, unlike in Hyrule and Termina.

“What is wrong with you.” It was not a question.

I looked up. Cyril’s head blocked out the afternoon sun. “Just weeding.”

“This is ridiculous, Link. Whenever I go to do something, you’re there, already doin’ it.”

“That’s not completely true.” This conversation had happened at least a dozen times in the two months or so that I had been here at Garreg Mach. It was absolutely true.

“Yes, it is. Could you just… not? I don’t want your help.”

“Geez, is that what this is about?” I replied.

“You’re doing all the jobs to show me up. And I really don’t appreciate that.”

I furrowed my brow. Never in my life had I met someone who resented me for doing menial tasks for them. Granted, I wasn’t doing this specifically for him, but still. I was confused. It didn’t make sense to me.

“That’s not what it is at all,” I assured. “Doing mindless labor for people typically makes them happy, not mad. I’m sorry for taking away your work, if that’s how you feel. And… I genuinely enjoy helping people.” I looked down, reaching for the right words. “It makes me feel like I’ve… won.”

“So you go out of your way to tackle as much work as you can, in the hopes that it’ll make you less cripplingly alone and feed your need to be needed.”

I gaped like a dying fish. I was not expecting to be verbally suplexed out of nowhere by Cyril, of all people. The jab cut deep, too– because, in a horrible bout of sanity, I realized that he wasn’t completely wrong. I did have a desire to make connections with the people around me. I didn’t want the chance to be ripped away from me, like it was in Hyrule and Termina. Doing as much work as I could not only made people like me more, but it would increase the chance that I would be remembered. That someone could anchor me into this reality, prove that I was alive via simple interaction.

But, at the same time, he wasn’t completely right, either. I did genuinely enjoy helping people, and making others happy made me happy too. That had always been true, even before I departed from the Kokiri Forest. The idea that I only helped people for my own benefit, as accessories to my own codependent compulsions, was utterly ludicrous.

“I–”

“You stick to your jobs. I’ll stick to mine.”

“Don’t cut me off,” I snarled, very Katáktisi-like. To his credit, Cyril did stop talking. “I’m not doing this work just to spite you. That was never my intention. I’ve always enjoyed helping people– and normally, doing errands and favors for people is also a good reason for them to care about me. You seemed so cheery when we first met, so I thought it would be a good idea to be friends.”

“Friends…” Cyril echoed. He had always seemed distant from the other orphans who lived here– almost more so than me, although that was because most of them were too juvenile for me to really consider acquaintances. Cyril was more mature than them, even with his incessant praise of Rhea.

“Yeah– so I wanted to start off on the right foot. So I tackled some extra work. Of course, that only meant that you felt I was trying to supplant you. When I noticed you weren’t as cheerful as you were when we first met, I… well, I just made things worse.”

Cyril nodded. Ouch.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” I said, truthfully. “I won’t intentionally overstep my boundaries any more than I already have. But, um… can we still be friends?”

The Almyran made a face. “I’ve never been anyone’s friend before. And I don’t want to be treated like an outsider.”

“That makes two of us,” I laughed. “And don’t worry. Friends are like an anchor. They keep you grounded, and without the anchor the ship’s not going anywhere. Having close relationships prevents you from being treated like an outcast. Let me tell you a story– where I grew up, I didn’t really have anyone my age. The only person who I could call my friend was a girl named Saria. She was really the only person I could call a friend, and it made my life a lot more bearable because… how do I put this… kids can be just the worst. What I’m saying is… I don’t care where you’re from or how you work. Because we’re friends, and friends stick together through thick and thin. That sound good?”

“I guess that doesn’t sound all bad,” he admitted. “Friends…”

I shot Cyril a lopsided grin, and our camaraderie blossomed from there.

~~~

“By the Goddess!” Commander Alois exclaimed. “You took care of that thief all on your own?”

“I happened to be in the area and I didn’t see any of the knights,” I explained, tugging the cutpurse’s collar forward ever so slightly. “It was no problem.”

“Well then! I see you’re not the weakest Link in the slightest! Ha ha!”

I blinked. Weakest Link? Was there another Link at the monastery? If so, how had I not met them? No, that was impossible… what on earth was Alois trying to say?

Katáktisi sighed. Weakest link is an expression. The oaf made an incredibly low-effort pun out of your name.

“Is that… really the best you could come up with?”

“That’s a particularly creative way of telling me it wasn’t funny,” Alois chuckled. Apparently, he got this sort of response a lot. Although, if he kept getting them, and knew he kept getting them, one would think he would change his jokes.

“Okay– let’s back up. I’ll give you thirty seconds to think of a better joke.”

“Okay, um– Hang on! That can’t be right! Did you just ask to hear another one? Of your own volition?”

“You get to make a better joke,” I explained casually, “and I get an opportunity to think of you slightly less lowly.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

…

“Ahem.”

“You didn’t even clear your throat!” Alois objected. “You just said the word ‘ahem’!”

“You think I’m not aware of that, old man?”

“‘Old man’?! Well, I suppose everything seems old to you. Now–” the Knight Captain cleared his throat. “I’ll be taking this criminal off your hands. Perhaps you should teach that merchant… the tools of our trade? Huh?”

Oh my Goddesses. That was so bad. But… why was I smiling?

“That was… so horrifically bad… that it somehow defied all reason and circled around to being funny again.”

A wide, slightly confused grin surfaced on Alois’ face. “Haha! My comedic genius strikes again!”

~~~

I had never really interacted much with the students of the Officer’s Academy. I was going to change that next year, when Dimitri and Dedue were enrolled, but as it stood I had little interest in interacting with the undergraduates. It was convenient, then, that they rarely interacted with me. There were always exceptions, though. Like today.

Professor Jeritza was horrifyingly good with a sword. He had a speed and dexterity unrivaled by any of the other staff at the Officer’s Academy or Knights of Seiros, excluding maybe Catherine and Shamir, and he always went straight for the throat. It was like his blade was merely an extension of his arm, which I could say for my own weapons, to my pride. What I couldn’t claim was expertise with so many types of weapons. Sure, I could handle myself around one to two handed swords, shields, bows, boomerangs, bombs, slingshots, and I guess the Megaton Hammer was kind of like an axe. But I had to pale in comparison to von Hrym’s pure expertise with any sharp object put into his hands.

As such, Jeritza normally served as a high-tier weapons instructor, for people who sought more in-depth training than what others could allow. But there were a fair number of lower-level students who were just trying to learn the basics who got saddled onto him anyway. That was where I came in. I could serve as a glorified training dummy, gifted with the ability to punish obvious mistakes. Meanwhile, I benefited from learning real combat theory for the first time– all of my knowledge was improvisational, barring the Terminian sword training courses.

My current opponent’s grip on his sword was too tight. There was such a thing. As he committed to a painfully hesitant thrust, I was able to easily sidestep the attack and bat the training sword out of his hands.

“Your hands are too stiff,” I said calmly. “You need to be putting your energy into your swing. Grasping the hilt like you are will waste your strength.”

The boy loosened his hold, taking a moment to adjust his spectacles. “Like this?”

“Exactly,” I lauded. “Now, fix your stance. Keep your feet shoulder’s width apart. Otherwise–” I leaned forwards and pushed on his shoulder, which I could barely reach. The force of it was enough to disrupt his balance. “You’ll fall over. Got it?”

“G-got it.”

“Good. Again.”

He thrust at me again, much more fluidly than last time. There was still a hell of a way to go, but he was improving. Slowly. I backflipped out of the danger zone and–

And something fleshy coiled around my foot.

Blood rushed to my head, partially because I was upside down and mostly because of embarrassment. Because, to my chagrin, Professor Jeritza was holding me by my ankle.

“This is a poor tactic,” the instructor commented, “but your advice is not completely wasted. I will take the rest from here.”

“I try,” I replied cheerily. “Can I be let down now?”

Perhaps I should have chosen my words better. Jeritza dropped me like a bag of bricks, and I landed directly on my cranium. I’d suffered worse, though, so I was back on my feet in no time.

“Boy.”

I turned around.

“For your age, you are… adequate.”

“Aww, that’s adorable.”

~~~

How long had I been here, at Garreg Mach? It hadn’t felt too long, but I realized with some level of surprise that it was already winter, and had been for a while. I could count ten seconds on the dot without breaking a sweat, but the passage of time in the long-term always surprised me. It was a bit embarrassing to admit, as time was literally the most predictable thing in the world.

“Good morning, Link,” Seteth greeted, shaking me from my doldrums.

“Good morning to you as well, Seteth,” I greeted back. “Anything I can do for you today?”

“No, that is quite alright,” Seteth said, running a hand through his verdant hair. He seemed to be in an unusually good mood today. “I merely wanted to inform you that my younger sister, Flayn, will be coming to live at the monastery with us near the end of the year. Please treat any request from her as you would a request from me.”

“Of course,” I said, dread clawing at my spine that another Nabatean was coming into close contact with me. “I look forward to meeting her.”

I could feel Seteth’s protective streak flaring up. I pretended not to notice. It was obvious that this ‘Flayn’ was someone Seteth cared about very much. “Now that I am thinking about it, I believe there is something I would like to ask of you.”

“And that is?”

“Take the day off,” he said, completely blindsiding me. It was only ten twelve and sixteen seconds! “I understand your feelings regarding your schedule, but your wellbeing is more important than any such appointments.”

“I– but— I’ll try, Seteth.”

Seteth nodded, an easy grin on his face, and exited the area.

Listen, Katáktisi castigated. I do not approve of the relationship that currently exists between yourself and the Nabatean. You give your trust too easily.

Seteth has done nothing to earn my dis trust, I retorted. Neither has Rhea, nor any of the Knights of Seiros. I think you just need to accept that Seteth isn’t the spawn of Demise, and I can be as close to him as I darn well please.

Do not burn yourself upon its flame by getting too close.

A hand that lingers in fire is not burned twice. If Seteth proves to be a threat, then I will treat him as such. But it has been many months, and he has had plenty of opportunities to harm me– yet he never has. Face it, Katáktisi– you’re wrong.

Do not question me, foolish boy. You know not the injustices the Nabateans have wrought upon this world. The Fell Star tore down the old pantheon and installed herself as the sole god. Her children do the same. The bricks of this church are built with a mortar of lies upon a foundation of treachery. A foundation of deicide.

If you’re so confident, take control and make it abundantly clear how much you hate them.

The urge to don the mask did not come. I would deprive you of a chance to grow. When you use my might to crush the thieves, you will do so willingly.

I rolled my eyes. Whatever you say.

~~~

I paused as I exited the library. Wait.

What was I doing?

You were just going to retire for the night, Katáktisi informed.

When did I even get here?

You must be out of sorts. Rest.

~~~

The sun was warm on my skin. I could feel the grasses against my flesh, swaying back and forth in the cool breeze, gently tickling the parts of me not shrouded by my clothes. I breathed in, I breathed out. I couldn’t help but feel slightly discomforted by the fact that my sword and shield were obviously not strapped to my back like they usually were. I had long since grown used to their familiar weight, and the sense of security that they offered, even when sheathed. Sure, I had learned to make do without in Fhirdiad, but at least then I knew they were in my pouch, which was also absent. I opened my eyes. Din’s Eye was directly overhead, wreathed in many ringlike clouds like the peak of Death Mountain. It was mostly obscured by the large tree, blocking some sunlight from reaching me.

I sat up. The tree was sitting atop a single hill, rising above the landscape like a tick swelling with blood. All around me was an infinite grassy plane, blades of grass undulating slightly in the wind. It stretched out as far as the eye could see and maybe even further. I felt dwarfed by its sheer size.

I was, of course, completely aware that this was a dream. But it wasn’t immediately subjecting me to constant agony, so I elected to simply enjoy this little departure from reality while I still could. I knew where I was, certainly. This was the interior of the moon. But there was nothing here. No Tatl, no purpose, no masks. Just me, the sun, and the wind. I would take these moments of respite when I could get them. Heck, there weren’t even any–

“Ah… nice weather… isn’t it?”

I groaned. Speak of the devil. I turned to face the little gremlin. It was the face of the Happy Mask Salesman, and there was no mask of Odolwa, Goht, Gyorg, Twinmold, or Majora obscuring its features. This is what I got for letting my guard down…

“Masks…” the child said, contemplative. “You have… a lot. You, too… will you be… a mask salesman?”

I never wanted to be compared to that creepy bastard for as long as I lived. Just the memory of being shaken about like a ragdoll was more than enough to hate him. “No.”

“Then… I’ll play with you,” the moon child decided. “So.. the masks… give me some…”

Well, that was just the darndest thing. “I don’t have any masks. Sorry.”

The not-Salesman cocked its head. “You’re… wearing one.”

Well, this was unexpected. “I’m… not?”

“You’re lying… it’s a nice mask… I want it.”

I delicately touched at my own face. Lo, there was a mask there after all. How had I not noticed it? “Guess you’re right,” I confessed. “Here, you can have it. Let me just take it off…” I gripped both my temples and pulled. The mask stayed put. “This thing’s pretty tight.” I pulled hard. I pulled harder. I pulled yet harder. The mask stubbornly remained in its place. But with one powerful yank, in a spray of blood, the mask came free. Fleshy and stubborn, I presented the false face to the youth afore me, the wind stinging my now-exposed muscle. It held the torn skin like it was made of gold leaf, tilting what remained of my face this way and that, catching the light of the sun as it slowly dimmed. 

“Thanks… You, you’re a nice person… aren’t you? Hide-and-seek… let’s play. Alright… I’ll… hide…”

And with that, it was gone. I ignored the fluids dripping from my face as I turned my gaze upward. The sun had disappeared entirely, leaving the entire area consumed with darkness. The voices were there, whispering their scathing remarks in my ear, and no matter how hard I pressed my hands against my ripped-apart ears, they did not abate.

“Your friends… what kind of… people are they? I wonder… Do those people… think of you… as a friend?”

“What makes you happy? I wonder… what makes you happy… does it make… others happy, too?”

“The right thing… what is it? I wonder… if you do the right thing… does it make… everyone… happy?”

“Your true face… what kind of… face is it? I wonder… the face under the mask… is that… your true face?”

“You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?”

“Regain your lost time… where you are supposed to be… the way you are supposed to be…”

“Everyone else has gone away, haven’t they?”

“These toys are too much for you! I demand you return them to me!”

“We shall greet the morning… together.”

“I entreat ye… Navi… good… bye…”

All I could taste was the iron of my own blood, seeping down my face and into my mouth. I clenched my fist, before rearing up and driving my hand into the middle of my chest, tearing through flesh and bone, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slippery object. With a triumphant tug, I yanked my– well, it wasn’t my heart so much as a perfectly spherical stone engraved with long, slashing marks. What on earth was a rock doing in my torso? Whatever it was, I tore it from my chest. It was glinting in the droll illumination of the twin angry red eyes of the moon high above, hurtling down, down, down. There wasn’t anything I could do about that, so I ignored it, instead focusing all my attention onto the stone, coated in sinuous graying veins, pulsating with gnarled, hateful energy. I squeezed with all the might that was left in my bleeding, broken body, crushing the object to dust. All sensation left me, including the boiling pain in my face, and I fell to the ground faceup, capable of doing nothing more than watching as the moon made its terminal descent.

I woke up, the memory already seeping out of my mind like water through a sieve. When I tried to stand, however… my limbs did not respond. I started to panic– was this some kind of out-of-body experience? I had had my limbs fall asleep on me from time to time if I slept on them funny, but there was none of the numb tingliness that came with that present at this moment.

Worry not, Katáktisi said. Give it a moment–

Blessed feeling returned to my extremities, and then the rest of my body. I sighed as I stood, stiff from sleep, and stretched. I tried to remember last night. One instant, it had been midnight and I was ascending to the second floor of the monastery. The next, it was now. To be exact, it was eight o’clock in the morning. I tried to get my bearings for a moment, but shook it off as little more than post-sleep delirium.

Not exactly, the mask explained. Around midnight last night, I took your body for a spin.

I was stunned. Wh– why?!

I felt… cooped up in this mask. I have for a long time. In addition, I wanted to test if anyone could sense my unfiltered presence. Make no mistake– I was seen by neither humans nor Nabateans.

But why don’t I remember any of this?

I removed your memory of it so you would stop complaining.

I contemplated showing Katáktisi exactly how much I could complain, but then I realized that if it could erase my memory before, surely it could do it again. And it was better to know what happened than what didn’t. I’ll let it slide. This time. But I never want you to do this again. Do I make myself abundantly clear?

Clear as crystal, my champion.

That would have to do. I got back to work.

~~~

The greenhouse was all but empty today. I found an empty patch of soil and placed a couple of Deku Nuts in the earth, before burying them. I wanted my supply to be renewable, but the soil of Fhirdiad had always been nutrient-poor. I contemplated also planting a couple of hydromelons, but I shot that idea down. I didn’t want them to choke out every other plant here. Who knew how rare some of them were. Deku Nuts, on the other hand, did just fine in this sort of dirt and didn’t take so many resources that they out-ate every other plant in a twenty-meter radius. All they really needed was light, water, and low concentrations of clay and sand. There was the minor caveat of the fact that they were going to grow into Deku Babas and probably bite someone’s face off, but that sounded like a future me problem.

~~~

“Oh, happy…. Very happy, biiiirthdaaaay to meeeee…”

Today was the 19th of the Pegasus Moon, which marked the one-year anniversary of my presence in Fodra. I had decided to treat it like my birthday. Ergo, I could say with absolute certainty that I was twelve years old. Five more to go before I got to not have debilitating physical dysphoria. It was very irritating, actually. I would consistently think that my limbs were longer than they actually were, and grasp at empty space thinking I could reach something. Whenever I woke up, I always felt this nagging glumness that my body wasn’t the way it was supposed to be, how I wanted it to be, how it had once been. The worst part was that there was nothing I could do about it. It was driving me up the wall.

For the first time in a long time, I wondered how Navi was doing. Not where she was– I had stopped asking about that, for my own wellbeing– but how she was. If she was happy, wherever she had ended up. I liked to think that she was. But that was enough of that. Today was my birthday and I was going to ask the dining staff to make me a slice of whatever that ‘cake’ thing was.

~~~

“You are Link, yes?”

“That’s right,” I ascertained. “What do you need, Hanneman?”

“I heard from Catherine that you potentially have a previously-unknown Crest,” the old professor revealed. Dammit, Catherine. “I summoned you here so that I could look into it.”

“I told Catherine this, and I’ll tell it to you too– I know I don’t have a Crest,” I said. I wasn’t technically wrong– Katáktisi wasn’t a Crest, it just functioned like one. Sort of. A little. Maybe. “I’ve never heard any stories of ancestors with extreme power.”

“Perhaps that ancestor has merely been lost to the annals of time,” Hanneman countered. “In addition, Catherine is not usually wrong about these sorts of things.” The father of Crestology got up from his desk and stepped over to the other side of the room. After rummaging around on a shelf for a while, he came back with some sort of strange apparatus covered in dials and lights, dominated by a large circular purple screen. “Just put your hand up to this device here. It will display the pattern that corresponds to any given Crest.”

Shoot, this was really bad. What if it picked up Katáktisi?

Do not falter, there is little to worry about. Stall for time, and the odds are that his aging brain will let you slip away without issue.

That’s kind of…

A victory is a victory.

Katáktisi, I would literally be running away. That is the opposite of victory.

Open your mind. Victory is all in how it is defined. In retreating, we subvert his moment of victory. And since our aim is merely to prevent his victory, in this we are victorious.

“How does it work?” I asked, trying my very hardest to sound remotely invested.

“Why, I’m glad you asked! You see, the arcanomagnetic energies…”

Well, I sure was stalling for time. Hanneman was so wrapped up in his explanation that I don't think he even realized that I wasn’t paying attention, or that the subject matter flew high enough over my head that I wouldn’t have understood what he was saying even if I was. I ever-so-slowly walked backwards towards the door.

“Hanneman!”

There! A word I could understand! I turned back towards the door to see that Professor Manuela was standing there, looking slightly less disheveled than usual.

“Hello, Manuela,” Hanneman drawled. “What has brought you all the way down to this side of the hallway?”

“Don’t start with that,” she snapped. “Especially to someone who can’t even keep track of his own students. Monica was supposed to meet me for a conference–”

“How am I supposed to know where all my students are at all times?”

“Of course you wouldn’t, with all your focus on Crests–”

“My dedication to studying Crests may be great, but it is rivaled by your fervor for a tall glass of wine–”

“Hanneman–”

I decided that now was a good time to make myself scarce, especially if a real argument was about to break out. But I pocketed one tidbit of information before I left.

Monica von Ochs, one of the current students of the Academy, was missing.

And nobody knew why.

The happy birthday song is to the tune of the Nabatean lullaby. You know the one.

Review please haha

HisyamAS (FF): It probably smelled worse in Fhirdiad central square than a dozen rotten eggs dropped in a vat of vinegar.

Lix231 (FF): Yeah, I definitely nerfed Link a lot in this story relative to the other characters. Permit me to explain my reasoning– A) Link is still reeling from his physical dysphoria from his time spent as an adult, which is definitely still messing with him. I touch a bit more on this later in the story. Plus, in chapter 2 he’s still recovering from the hypothermia thing from chapter 1. B) Narratively, I want him to be on a similar power level to the rest of the cast so that they’re not invalidated by Link existing. When Link wins, I want him to win because he thinks outside the box, at least until later in the story when he comes into his own as a technical fighter. That better befits his character and his experience doing dungeons and puzzle solving, especially since fighting in Zelda basically *is* a puzzle– what do I use to make you vulnerable? FE doesn’t really have that. I’d argue that Link is still a very strong fighter, but that his skill set is currently limited to things that don’t fight at all like anyone in Fódlan does. Without those items, Link is reduced to a couple stilted jabs and slashes. C) Link is also intentionally nerfing himself in those scenes by not using his various items, in the interest of improving his technical skill and keeping the playing field level.  Would Link have ever had a shot of beating Ganondorf without the Light Arrows? Twinmold without the Stone Mask? D) Link is able to hold his own against Dedue fairly well, and it takes Dimitri literally throwing Felix at him to stop the fight. Given enough time, Link could probably best Dedue on a good day at Chapter 2. He’s almost able to beat Dimitri by the end of Chapter 3 while only using a single Deku Nut. I understand that my decision regarding Link’s power level isn’t exactly popular, but I hope all of this helps to explain my perspective. Don’t worry– come the timeskip, he’s going to be able to go toe to toe with [CONTENT EXPUNGED] and absolutely wreck house.

Chapter Text

Ha ha, ha, one!

Chapter VI

The first whispers of spring tickled me as Cyril and I ascended the great tower. Our job for right now was to tidy up the grand bell that rang at the hour every hour. It was a big job– there may have only been one bell that had to be taken care of at this moment, but it was a ridiculously large individual.

“What was Almyra like?” I asked, curious about my friend’s past.

“It’s a pretty scummy place,” Cyril replied flatly. “For a country that loves starting wars, they sure don’t care at all about the people harmed by it.”

Yikes. That was a pretty scathing critique. “Yeah, that’s dumb. Talk about not having your bases covered.”

“I don’t have much else to say about it. What was your home like?”

“We were a tiny commune living deep in the woods of northern Faerghus,” I said, reciting the lie that I had ingrained in my mind. “We were completely outside the influence of the country– heck, I didn’t even know there was a world outside of the woods until I left it. I… actually don’t remember much about it.” I pretended to be glum. “I guess it’s a coping mechanism to not relive what I lost.”

“You don’t seem all that sad about it.” Shoot.

“Grief comes in many shapes and forms,” I ad libbed. “Some people fall into listlessness and despair. Some people take up the sword. Some people idolize those that helped them get out of their situation. Others work.”

“You work?”

“Exactly. Everyone I help, everyone I form positive connections with… they ground me in Fodra. Give me the momentum I need to face what I’ve lost… and smile in spite of it.”

“Would you go back?”

“Would you go back to Almyra?”

“No,” Cyril replied immediately. “I’m happy here, serving Lady Rhea. I reckon I’m happier here than I ever was over there.”

“Exactly. I feel the same way, but instead of just serving the archbishop, I strive to help everyone. A devotion that is broader than yours, but not as deep.”

Cyril looked me over with a newfound understanding. “I think I get it.”

What time is it, Katáktisi said. It was not a question. Strange. Normally, it didn’t comment on such monotonous things as the time of day.

Eleven fifty, if I had to wager, I replied. I’ll know for sure once we get to the top of the tower and I can see where the sun is. Hopefully, we’ll be able to bang this out relatively quick–

We reached the open air, the grand church bell hanging over us. We were at the top of the belltower, rising high over the landscape like a parasitic worm exiting its host. But the first thing I noticed was the shadows on the ground. I realized with a muted horror that the exact time was eleven hours, fifty-nine minutes, and forty-nine seconds. How had I been so far off? In eleven short moments, the clock would strike noon, and the bell would toll!

And let there be no mistake– it would toll for me.

Eleven.

“Cyril.”

Ten.

“Yeah?”

Nine.

Eight.

“Just to give you a heads up,” Seven. “I’m going to have a panic attack in the next…” Six. “Six seconds.”

Five.

“Wait–”

Four.

“What do you–”

Three.

“Mean by–”

Two.

“Panic attack?”

One.

Zero.

Negative one?

Da-dong… Da-dong…

I lost all sensation in my knees as I collapsed. My eyes burned as memory assailed me. It was as if the moon was still in the sky, about to slam into the Clock Tower at the stroke of the dawn.

Automatically, I had my ocarina in hand, the Song of Time echoing from its holes. But impossibly, the notes had no effect. Horror surged. I was supposed to fall into the white void, push myself back to the start of the cycle, lose what I had gained but earn another chance. But there was no appeal now. All that was left to do was wait for the moon to come.

Eventually, after my thoughts were no longer being drowned out by the cacophony above, I came to feel the warm stone I was lying on. Somehow, I had collapsed and all but shoved Cyril into a nearby support column. He had disentangled himself, pushing me to the ground, and was now standing over me. All in all, not my best look.

“You alright?”

“I– I am now,” I stammered, still embarrassed. “It’s just–” I grimaced. “It’s nothing.”

“Do you want me to get Professor Manuela?”

“No, that’s fine.” The bell wouldn’t ring for another hour. Thanks for the heads-up, Katáktisi.

But of course.

~~~

When Katáktisi had met Seteth, it had been shocked and furious. When Katáktisi had met Rhea, it had been paranoid and hateful.

But now, when confronted with Flayn, Katáktisi was just confused.

It is Cethleann’s brat, the mask confirmed. There is no doubt in my mind. And she claims to be Cichol’s whelp’s sister? It is a lie!

She has Cethleann’s Crest? But I thought Cethleann was Cichol’s daughter?

Aye.

Well, the same person can’t normally have multiple Crests. I don’t think. Whichever Crest is stronger wins out… if I understand it correctly. Somehow. But if that’s true, then they can’t be related. That being said… There's definitely some familial resemblance between the two of them. Even discounting their shared Nabateanness.

It is a conundrum, the mask agreed. But it is impossible for them to truly be bound in blood… unless…

Unless Cichol and Cethleann’s children… got married… to each other?

What? No! Katáktisi sounded repulsed. That was a first. There are some boundaries that even their kind would not cross. I was suggesting that they are literally Cichol and Cethleann.

We were both silent. Then, Nah, we said in unison.

Unless...

It was nearing the end of the Lone Moon, and as if to rain on my celebration for existing in Fodra for almost a full calendar year, the ‘goddess’ added another Nabatean to the pile. I didn’t let my dour mood show, of course. Flayn was easily excited, gawking with no lack of wonder and awe at the now-mundane opulence of Garreg Mach Monastery. And she talked. Oh, she talked so much . Every instant, she was asking me about what I did here, what this and that room was for, how her ‘brother’ had been doing, and telling me all about how she was so excited to be here and interact with people ‘her own age’. It was getting irritating, but I kept that bottled up. I would have to weather her boundless enthusiasm.

On the bright side, she wasn’t taller than me. For once, somebody existed that I didn’t have to look up to to meet their eyes. I had to stay positive while I could.

I led her to Seteth’s office as quickly as I could, retracing the steps Cyril had once shown me nearly six months ago. I got to the second floor of the monastery, was made incredibly jealous when the older brother and younger sister— if that were to be believed– were reunited, and then dismissed myself. I had to confirm something.

I walked downstairs, out of the officer’s floor and into the grand cathedral themselves. I ignored the worshipers and slunk towards a more isolated place, greeting the artisan as I passed by. I had only ever come back here in the past once or twice, to clean the statues of the Four Saints– Cethleann, Cichol, Maciul, and Indech. But if my growing suspicion was correct…

I read the placard. ‘A statue of Saint Cethleann, one of the Four Saints. It is said that she was a beautiful and kind soul who was beloved by all for her empathy and her ability to heal severe wounds. She is the daughter of Saint Cichol.’ I couldn’t directly tie that to Flayn– I had barely interacted with her– but the physical resemblance was fairly striking. Her hair was long and flowed down her back. Her facial structure was very similar, true, but I couldn’t make out many other distinct similarities.

There was certainly one other way to confirm it. I strolled to the other side, and focused on the statue of Saint Cichol. According to the placard, it was said that he ‘was a compassionate yet stern figure whose faith was so true he was able to perform miracles’. That certainly checked out with the Seteth I knew. In addition, his statue looked a lot like him, physically. His hair was obscured by a hat, but I felt fairly confident that this was, indeed, Seteth if I really focused.

Kill them, Katáktisi ordered.

No.

A maddening bloodlust scrabbled for purchase in my mind, but I stood firm. I let it wash over me, through me, and fall away. Katáktisi would not claim me. Not today.

I am your champion, Katáktisi, I replied. Not your host. My will is my own– I will never make it soft for you.

They. Are. Nabatean, the mask seethed. They are the tumor feasting on Fodra.

I will make that judgement for myself, thank you. And so far, Seteth and Rhea seem to be genuinely kind people.

Is it so difficult to believe that–

–That I have been deceived? It’s possible, but I am an excellent judge of character, Katáktisi. If I wasn’t, I would be nothing more than a bag of flesh to be puppeteered by you.

Katáktisi was silent. I want to protect you, my champion, from their influence. Already their corruption slithers into your every pore. I fear it will not be long before you are lost completely, and I will have to strike you down.

From what you have said, the Nabateans sound horrible. I walked out of the room, ignoring the stone visages of the Saints, returning to my room. I didn’t want to be caught woolgathering there– it would raise several questions that would be difficult to answer. They destroyed the old pantheon of gods and installed Sothis.

Exactly. So–

And that may be true. But Rhea and Seteth seem to be trying to make up for that mistake. You have to give them a second chance. Like I gave you a second chance. You told me yourself that you would have consumed me– drained me of my strength to bolster your own. But clearly there was some change of heart… because here I am… still me.

Katáktisi said nothing. The Nabateans still must die. But–

Why? Who told you that the Nabateans had to die?

Those who created me. Those who gave me my glorious purpose. That is a topic for another time. I will abate… for now. And I will not take action against Cichol, Cethleann, or Seiros. But the time will come, when you realize your folly. It will come sooner than you think.

Katáktisi said no more. And I had a lot to think about.

~~~

Winter had finally ended.

Yay.

It was nearing midnight, and I was seated at the top of one of the monastery’s many towers– the bells didn’t ring at night, so I was alright on that front. I was playing my ocarina, weaving Saria’s Song from its holes, which was something I did every now and again whenever I wanted to chat with an old friend. Almost everyone else was downstairs, celebrating the dawn of the new imperial year of 1180. Those who weren’t were in the cathedral, praying to realize their potential this year as though that would make a difference.

I didn’t feel like partying. Those huge throngs of people reminded me of Castle Town when I was still ten. It just made me feel more like an outsider than ever.

My feet dangled over the edge of the parapet, kicking lightly in the air as I prepared myself. But just as I started getting into the meat and potatoes of the tune, I heard the creak of the trapdoor opening and closing. Who had come up here?

“It has been a long time, hasn’t it?”

A wide grin broke out on my features. I hadn’t heard that voice in a long time, but that did not make it any less welcome.

“Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd,” I greeted, picking myself up from the edge and facing the crown prince. “It’s been way too long! Oh, and hi to you too, Dedue.”

It was only reasonable to assume that the Duscurian would be with his liege, and I was– of course– correct. I received a curt nod in response. They both looked very sharp in their newfangled Officer’s Academy outfits– all blacks and golds, although Dimitri had a stylish blue cape and sash. That was probably to distinguish him as crown prince and leader of the Blue Lion House. They also looked fairly different, the two of them having changed hairstyles somewhat over the course of the last couple of months. Some things hadn’t changed– Dedue was still a mountain of a man, and the crown prince himself certainly hadn’t shifted his personality.

“I agree. I tried to write letters, but I’m afraid I have been exceedingly busy. Have you enjoyed life at the monastery?”

“It was a bit of a change of pace, but I got the hang of it,” I assured. “And don’t worry about not writing. I probably could have written too. We’ll just have to make up for lost time while we’re here.”

“I suppose we will.”

There was an amiable silence.

“What brought you up here?”

“I wanted some fresh air, and then I followed your music. It’s… very catchy.”

I snorted. “It was written by a friend of mine from home. I think about her a lot when I play her song, specifically. She was… someone I was very close to.”

“I see. What was she like?”

I sighed. “She was about my age– physically, anyway. In the forest where I really grew up, the inhabitants– the Kokiri– stayed kids forever. I have no idea how old she really was, or how old anyone was, now that I think about it. But I digress. She was smart, and funny, and really, really nice.” It was almost as nice to be able to talk about my past without hiding behind the lie we had forged. “I’m surprised I haven’t told you about her before. We talked a couple of times while I was in Fhirdiad.”

“You spoke with this person?” Dedue interjected. “You were alone when you came to Fódlan.”

“I was,” I confirmed. “The song is laced with magic from my world. It’s a lot less… how do I say this? Organized? Yeah, it was less organized than the magics here in Fodra. It allows us to tap into the forest spirits and talk to each other regardless of distance. I was surprised when I learned it worked across worlds. Now we communicate every couple of weeks.

“But that’s enough about me. What have you been up to?”

“More of the usual. Dodging assassins, preparing for my studies, sparring… although, I’ll admit, I was still caught off-guard when I saw Cassandra, even knowing that she was here.”

I was going to pretend like I knew who he was referring to. Idly, a thought crossed my mind, and I decided to give it voice. “Hey, Dimitri. Do you have anyone besides Dedue that fills the same role as Saria?”

“‘Saria’? Oh, you must mean your music friend.” The crown prince gave it a moment of thought. “Well, I think Dedue is the closest candidate. Rodrigue and Gustave are mentors and father figures, so I don’t think they count for what you’re saying. There’s Felix, who you met last year, and also Sylvain and Ingrid. All three of them are members of the Blue Lions this year. And…” 

Something silvery glinted in the night, and I put a hand towards where a sword would be sheathed before and after I realized what it was. The object in Dimitri’s hands was clearly a dagger. “About six years ago now– I was about your age, actually– I spent some time with a girl from the Empire. She taught me how to dance, among other things. But, something drove her back to Enbarr. The day before she left, I gave her a dagger much like this. To cut a path towards a future worth fighting for.”

That was sweet, in a very Dimitri way. “Have you kept in touch?”

“Admittedly not. But I believe she’ll also be coming to the Officer’s Academy as part of the Black Eagle house. I would not mind rekindling our friendship if she asked.”

We stood atop the tower for a long time, talking as though no time had passed at all. It was as though my entire life was falling into place. And I think I was closer to happiness than I had ever been before.

~~~

I idly hummed Epona’s Song to myself as the mop slid across the floor. Dimitri had left the monastery a couple of hours ago– apparently Edelgard, the leader of the Black Eagles, had commissioned him and the Golden Deer leader to come with her to pick up the professor. I had seen a letter from the old professor– a short, portly scholar from the Leicester Alliance– on Seteth’s desk a couple of days ago. It had explained that he was retiring and wouldn’t be coming back for the academic year of 1180. Garreg Mach had fortunately found another professor from the Adrestian Empire. The house leaders were to pick him up from somewhere near the Oghma Mountains.

When the Knights had heard about that, they were pretty mad. I guess nobody had told them that the lords were all going? Alois, the captain of the Knights of Seiros– I think– moved out with a whole contingent to intercept them. That was probably for the best. Better safe than sorry, especially with the future of Fodra.

I kept mopping the floor. It was just another duty to fulfill. iI had plenty of those, but keeping the floor clean wasn’t too big of an issue. Times like four o’clock in the morning were best for it too, as nobody would walk around and get their feet wet. With the staff’s residential floor done, I picked up the bucket of water I was using and made my way down the flight of stairs. The cathedral wasn’t going to clean itself.

Dedue was still at the monastery. Come to think of it, I hadn’t ever seen Dimitri without him before. I wondered how he was holding up. I would have to check up on him. Actually, that was a bad idea– he was probably hanging out with Felix… Silver and Ingrate? That sounded close to what their names actually were. I didn’t want to distract them.

I set the pail down, liquid sloshing slightly. I took a step forward–

And immediately fell down the stairs that I had just finished descending.

It was only a couple of steps left, so I suffered little more damage than a couple of bruises and a bloodied nose. I was more shocked than anything. I had just gone down the stairs. How did I end up back on it again? My stomach was doing somersaults and my head was pounding. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

You… tripped? Katáktisi snorted. No, that is not quite it. You are not so unsteady on your feet.

I got my legs underneath me. I was at the bottom of the stairs, and then I… I think we went back in time. The suggestion filled me with an unspeakable, terminal dread, even if it had originated from myself. That’s– that’s impossible. I never played the Ocarina of Time!

You did not. If it is truly so, then ancient magicks are at play. Act natural– someone approaches.

“My goodness! Are you alright?”

I could hear the soft tapping of shoes on the ground as someone ran up to me. I got my bearings as quickly as possible and appraised the person who was currently proffering a hand to help me up. If I were to describe them in one word, it would be… soft. She had long, beige hair tied off into a long braid. She was wearing the uniform of the Officer’s Academy underneath some sort of brown and blue shawl thing. I didn’t quite know how to describe it. She was staring at me, with clear concern etched into her features. I quickly decided she wasn’t a threat.

“Yeah, I’m– I’m fine,” I managed to get out, my mind still reeling with abject confusion. “I was cleaning the floors on the second story, and I guess I didn’t realize how slippery it had gotten…”

“Here– let me use some healing magic on you,” the girl offered, her hand still extended. Limply, I reached out and up to make contact, realizing with chagrin that I must have gotten soap water all over myself in the tumble. No wonder I was so cold all of a sudden.

Healing spells in this world sure as heck felt better than downing a Red Potion tasted. It felt like a nice, warm embrace. Not a Cremia-tier hug, of course, but the thought was there. “Thanks,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Mercedes von Martritz,” the newly-christened Mercedes introduced. She must have been a noble of the Empire or something– they all shared the middle name ‘von’, if I recalled correctly. “What’s your name?”

“Link. Link Harkinian.”

Does she have a Crest? I inquired.

Lamine, Katáktisi replied. So she was a noble… but I had thought that the Adrestian Empire only had the Crests of Seiros and the Four Saints. There must have been a story behind that, but I didn’t care enough to delve further. Crests, schmests.

Thanks .

“It’s very nice to meet you! Do you live at the monastery?”

“Yeah, I do. I have for about five months now. It’s a bit awkward since I don’t know anything about the teachings of the Church– I’m not native to Fodra, you see. But they give me room and board in exchange for upkeep in the monastery.”

“I understand! I was actually praying to the goddess just now– I like to pray as soon as I wake up, because it’s a lot quieter. If you have any questions about religion, you can ask me! I’d be happy to help!”

Huh. That wasn’t a terrible idea. “Thank you, Mer–” Shoot, what was her name? Mercy? Maribelle?

Mercedes, Katáktisi supplied.

Right. Mercedes von Martritz.

I had thought it was Mercedes von Marbenz.

Why would you think that?

I don’t entirely know.

“--cedes. And thank you for patching me up. I hate to cut this short, but the chapel floor isn’t going to clean itself. Don’t let me distract you from your prayers.”

Mercedes said something back, but I wasn’t listening. I was altogether focused on the mop as it danced across the floor. My mind was still racing. Another closed timeloop… If the moon had grown a face again and begun its descent, I was going to be furious.

~~~

I checked outside. No face.

Phew.

~~~

It seemed that the only topic anyone was interested in blabbing about was some guy named Jeralt. Jeralt this, Jeralt that. Apparently, he was the old Captain of the Knights of Seiros who disappeared twenty-odd years ago during some fire. Frankly, I didn’t really care all that much. If he was really so important, I would have heard about this ‘blade breaker’ and his ‘ashen demon’ earlier than today.

I heard from one of the Golden Deer students that apparently, Jeralt’s mercenaries defended Dimitri and the other two lords from a bunch of marauders. What had mercenaries and bandits been doing in Remire Village? And so close to Garreg Mach, too. It certainly wasn’t a good look, although the continent wasn’t exactly doing a wonderful job on that front anywhere. It didn’t make it any better, but still.

Regardless of the circumstances, the bandits had succeeded on one front– the teacher they had initially hired supposedly ran off at the first sight of trouble. That left the Officer’s Academy without a third instructor. Who would fill that void? My first thought was Tomas, the friendly librarian who was always patient with my incessant questions. I liked him. Then I thought of Jeritza, who clearly had the skill to teach anyone the blade. I respected him, but I would have preferred if I could just get my mitts on his darn mask. It was a nice mask and I wanted one like it. I collected a couple of masks while I was in Fhirdiad. They lacked the powers of the Terminian veneers I had once owned, and my smorgasbord of false faces was much smaller, but it brought me a small level of happiness. Masks in Faerghus, and Fodra in general, didn’t have any inherent cultural meaning like they did in Termina, so I got a couple of weird looks from older folks, but I was twelve years old. I was largely exempt from such judgements.

Thank the Three.

~~~

“Have you no intention of changing your mind, Rhea?” Seteth was demanding. “Appointing a stranger– a child, no less!-- as a professor of our esteemed academy is–”

“I have made my decision, Seteth,” the archbishop interrupted. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but… when a clandestine conversation was being had between two Nabateans, I couldn’t help but feel that I had to know what was going on. In addition, this raised further questions– neither Tomas nor Jeritza were going to supplant the role of professor? Was the new professor going to be this ‘Jeralt’ character? I had had the impression that he wasn’t ‘a child’ by any stretch of the imagination. How very odd. “I know worrying comes naturally to you, but there is truly no need. That ‘stranger’ is Jeralt’s flesh and blood, after all.” Oh, so it wasn’t Jeralt, but rather his progeny. Given that I had never met either of them, that seemed hardly helpful.

“I can’t say that’s all too comforting. How trustworthy is this Jeralt character? Is he not the man who went missing after the great fire twenty-one years ago?” I had to agree with Seteth– appointing some person you had never met before to be a professor on a moment’s notice seemed hardly a good idea, regardless of their parentage. “I would remind you that Flayn is now here with us as well.” His tone shifted. “I beg of you… please consider whether this is an unnecessary risk.”

“Seteth,” Rhea placated. “They have my trust. Let that be enough for you as well. More importantly, I have received a report from Shamir. I am increasingly concerned about a matter regarding our suspicious individual. We cannot ignore those who harbor ill will towards the church, especially if they are frequenting Garreg Mach.” I felt slightly targeted by that statement.

“Rhea… For now, I will have faith that you are placing your trust with the utmost care. I pray that nothing occurs to shake that confidence,” Seteth stated calmly, before turning away. I quickly made myself scarce. I didn’t want to be caught listening in.

Hoo boy, is Link going to be angry when he realizes Byleth is the one causing the time travel… Short chapter, I know. I’m going to have much longer chapters once we really get into the thick of it.

Review please!

CuddlyManaki (AO3): At this point in the story, the relationship between Link and Katáktisi can basically be summed up by that vine that goes “Yo, what do you want to eat?” The souls of the innocent! “A bagel.” No! “Two bagels.”

Rubber Chicken With A Keyboard (AO3): Seteth is my favorite FE3H character and nobody can change my mind. Link’s issues are definitely a slow burn, but he won’t be in misery forever. (That’s called foreshadowing.)

Backpack Bandit (FF): Good things come to those who wait.

AXCN (AO3): You’re very welcome!

DarthFlores (FF): Something that I tried to do while writing is to capture the feel of Three Houses by sort of expressing its gameplay loop through the story. Ingame, the calendar system mediates combat time with support-building and training time. In CC, I tried to emulate that feeling by balancing out action scenes with Link’s various interactions, whether that be with Katáktisi or with a FE character. To answer your question regarding Byleth, I couldn’t decide whether to use male or female, so I flipped a coin and got tails. Girlleth it is.

Quarantine0 (FF): I’m glad you liked it!

HiIExist (FF): Thank you! And don’t worry– when Demonic Beats start showing up, Link is going to be extra-prepared.

Chapter Text

Hi all, I just want to be a bit more clear on exactly how this fic is going to be structured. From here, the story will largely follow BL because I think that’s the best choice considering Link’s relationship with Dimitri. Some extra news, though! I finished writing!

… White Clouds.

We haven’t even touched the post-timeskip.

Chapter VII

“ Yaaaaaawn… The Great Tree Moon is the best time of year for naps,” one of the new students announced. What a strange thing to say. It was the middle of the day, for Din’s sake! Admittedly, there may have been context for the outburst, but I was focused entirely on his green hair. Katáktisi, do we have another Nabatean on our hands?

There was a moment of silence. It bears Cethleann’s Crest, the mask informed, but this one is human. Fortunately.

Excellent. I could completely disregard him, along with most of the other students that weren’t named Dimitri or Dedue. Mercedes was nice, sure, but I didn’t want to distract anyone from their studies. I was happy to support from the background. I steeled myself for the task at hand. After all, I did have a job to do.

The line flew out over the water and landed with a satisfying plonk . I was a little tense because Flayn was watching me with her Nabatean eyes, but I tried to ignore that for now. I had a fish to catch.

I heard the creaking of the pier as someone walked up beside me. Since I hadn’t gotten a bite, I spared a glance. The newcomer was a woman, for sure, but that's where my ability to identify her stopped. Her hair was a blue bordering on green, so she wasn’t a first-generation Nabatean at the very least. Her expression was completely stoic and unreadable. She wasn’t a student, judging by her armor, which certainly violated at least one dress code with how much skin it showed. And in very easy-to-hit places too, like the sternum and the lower abdominal. Whoever designed that outfit was not very good at it.

They had a fishing rod in their hands. They cast the line, and as though fate was playing a cruel joke on me specifically, she immediately got a bite. After a bit of struggle, she pulled a full bass out of the water, set the fishing rod back in place, and walked away. She never said a word.

Curious, Katáktisi said. That should be impossible.

Yeah, that fish bit immediately, I agreed. What kind of bait did she use?

No, no. Her Crest.

First she had had my interest, but now she had my attention. What about it?

It is the Crest belonging to that thief, the King of Liberation.

The King of Liberation? That was–

Nemesis, aye.

Nemesis had kids? None of the legends or scriptures ever mentioned that.

He did not. Unless he survived the Tailteann Plains. But if he were alive, the War of ‘Heroes’ would not be over.

So that person… has the Crest of Nemesis. Which by all accounts, nobody should be able to have.

Yes.

I thought for a moment. Could we use Hanneman to gain more information about it? We could probably suggest that he use that device thingy to test her Crest, and glean the results at a later date.

A devious scheme. You have gotten better at this.

Thank you.

Fish momentarily forgotten, I turned on my heel and trotted back to the monastery. On the way, I decided to pass through the Officer’s Academy instead of my usual route, which bypassed it completely. I didn’t spy anyone immediately, but I heard a fair amount of commotion coming from each of the main lecture halls. Maybe Prince Dimitri and Dedue were in there, and I could say hello? It probably couldn’t hurt too much.

I strolled up to the Blue Lions lecture hall and peeked my head in as discreetly as possible. Fortunately, everyone’s attention seemed to be directed towards that blue-haired Nemesis-crest-having fisherwoman from before. I quickly took stock of who was there. The class split appeared to be three girls to five guys. Dimitri and Dedue were present, of course. Felix, the edgelord from the winter march, was also there. What surprised me was Mercedes– I thought she was Imperial, what with the whole ‘von’ thing. Maybe she moved. That left four people who I didn’t recognize. Sandwiched between Dedue and Mercedes was a smaller girl with orange hair and what I thought were pigtails. On Dimitri’s left were two boys– one with gray hair and freckles who must have been Silver, the other a tousled mess of red hair who was dressed more casually. He definitely gave off Ingrate vibes. Rounding out the class was a girl with long, blonde hair. I was fairly far away, so I couldn’t get a super good look at them without drawing attention to myself.

“I just don’t know about all of this!” Orange Hair was saying concernedly.

“I’ll admit, it doesn’t sit well with me either,” Dimitri agreed. “After all, we wish to show you proper respect.”

“Sure, but if the professor says it’s okay, shouldn’t that be enough?” Ingrate said with an easy smile. “That is… if Your Highness can consent to such a thing. After all, we’re already speaking this way to our future king, so we may as well relax our speech with our professor too, right?”

“Well, we’re not in the Kingdom, so it only goes to follow that we should all speak companionably… I concede. If the professor says it’s fine, we ought to accept that kindness gratefully.”

“As for me, I’m not sure I can manage,” the blonde one said morosely.

“You don’t have to force yourself if it’s too difficult,” Mercedes chimed in. “You’re fine with that too, right, Professor?”

So the new arrival was the new professor, and most likely also the daughter of Jeralt. Noted. Said daughter was currently nodding in affirmation.

“Such benevolence is a sight to behold! I don’t suppose you would care to join me for tea? We can discuss education… and marriage.” I blinked. That came out of left field.

When one’s blood holds power, it is only reasonable that procreation yields further power, Katáktisi said. Disgusting. I didn’t deign to give that a response.

“Control yourself, Sylvain,” Felix drawled. Wait, wait, wait– Ingrate wasn’t named Ingrate? Come to think of it, that meant that Silver wasn’t named Silver! “I have more important matters to discuss with our new professor. Come to the training ground later. There, you will show me what you’re capable of.” Yup, that sure was the Felix I remembered.

“You aren’t wasting any time, are you, Felix?” Dimitri observed. “As it were, count me in for any such battle.”

“Hmph.”

“Pardon me,” not-Sylvain said, “but I would also love to observe you in battle, for future reference. If that’s okay with you…”

“Ashe, I won’t have you speak of merely watching. You should join us as well,” Dimitri said. I noted that his name was Ashe.

“If you get injured, simply say the word and I’ll patch you up straight away!”

“Your Highness. Do take care not to go overboard,” Dedue cautioned.

“You worry too much, Dedue. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“My companions!” Sylvain interjected. “Is there not something inherently wrong with crossing blades as a way to get to know each other?”

“Huh, I never thought of it that way. Well, if that’s how you feel, I suppose you’ll just stay behind while the rest of us are at the training grounds?”

“Ingrid, my dearest friend!” So the blonde one was named Ingrid. That only left the ginger girl whose name I still didn’t know. “You really are too harsh on me.”

I decided that it was time to go. I had a crest scholar to manipulate, after all. But I tidbitted the fact that they were going to the training ground later. Whether that meant ‘go to the training grounds too’ or ‘avoid the training grounds like the plague for a little while’ remained to be seen.

~~~

I knocked on Hanneman’s door. The crestologer was a bit slow to open it.

“Ah. Link, yes?”

“Yeah,” I affirmed. “I was just wondering if you had met the new professor.”

“I have indeed. While I don’t know her competence as a teacher, she was a mercenary– meaning she has better combat experience than I. Although to be honest, that’s not saying much at all.”

“Mhm. Say, you think she has a Crest?”

“I was actually wondering the same thing myself. In fact, I asked her to come here to test exactly that. Speaking of testing for Crests, you managed to slip away from me last time we spoke on this subject.”

I cringed. I was hoping that he had forgotten about that. “Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, and I also don’t want to overshadow the new professor. Could I schedule you in for a later date?”

“Don’t worry– this won’t take much time at all. If you would like, I can merely take a bit of blood and do analysis on that on my own time.”

Will that pick up on your presence?

Of course not. I am the mask, not your blood.

“Alright,” I consented. I quickly dug around in my pouch for a moment, before drawing the Gilded Sword. The blade pressed into the skin of my palm, and soon enough, a burning pain was making itself abundantly known in my palm. The red liquid steadily streamed from the cut. I proffered it to Hanneman. “You think this is enough?”

Strangely, the professor appeared to be quite horrified. What an unusual reaction to blood. I guess I had gotten desensitized to it over the course of my adventures through Hyrule and Termina. The patches of aged, dried viscera that had populated the Bottom of the Well and the Shadow Temple swam in front of my vision for just a moment, just long enough for me to lose track of exactly where I was until the Adrestian scientist shook me out of it. “No, no, no! A couple of drops would have been plenty!” Hanneman grabbed a test tube and ran its glass edge along the cut, picking up a small amount of my blood. “Now, go see Professor Manuela before you bleed out entirely!”

I made a mental note to place an order for a new carpet to replace Hanneman’s currently soiled one. “Alright, sir.”

~~~

Now bearing a freshly-bandaged hand, it was high time I gathered intelligence on this new professor. And who better to ask about the new member of the Officer’s Academy than the man in charge of the Officer’s Academy? I had to deliver a missive to Seteth anyway regarding a ‘Petra Macneary’. Something about the archipelago of Brigid? Whatever it was, it wasn’t my business reading. Granted, I had a tendency to stick my nose as deep into wherever it didn’t belong as possible, which was saying something as I had a pretty long nose. However, some things weren’t all that important compared to the sheer girth of the fish I was frying on a regular basis. But it would be convenient if I could bang out two objectives at once.

I quickly marched up to Seteth’s office, but on the way, I passed by what was normally Alois’ room– technically, it was the study reserved for the captain of the Knights of Seiros, but since Alois filled that position, it may as well have been his. Strangely, someone else seemed to be poking around in there, a man who I had never seen before. He was wearing dark armor covered with straps and belts– truly a man sharing my own fashion tastes. A big orange shirt obscured most of the metal of his breastplate and upper legs. From what little I could see of his face, it was littered with scars. Well, if it was some assassin like the couple I had dealt with in Fhirdiad, I could probably take him.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here, sir,” I said. The man paused for a moment, then turned to face me, revealing a well-kept light-brown beard that covered his chin and jawline.

“Is that so,” he asked, in a gravelly but not necessarily unfriendly voice.

“This room is reserved for the Captain of the Knights of Seiros. If you’re here to meet someone, I would suggest the marketplace outside the Officer’s Academy.”

“As it happens, I’m the new Captain of the Knights of Seiros,” he said. 

“I guess that checks out. After all, you must be Alois’ protegé if your sense of humor is that bad,” I countered.

The mystery man laughed. “Well, I’m glad Fódlan is large enough for someone to not recognize me.”

I furrowed my brow. “Should I have heard of you? Wait, let me guess– everyone’s been talking about the ‘Ashen Demon’ and his daughter the ‘Blade Breaker’ nonstop since this morning, and if you really are taking over the captain’s role… it follows that you’re the Ashen Demon.”

“The Ashen Demon is actually my daughter, so–”

Well, there was a curveball. There was now only one logical conclusion to make. Considering everyone was gaga over that Jeralt character as well, and that Jeralt had a daughter, it made sense to assume that this man before me was none other than Jeralt himself. I had thought Jeralt and the Ashen Demon were synonymous. How on Fodra had I gotten the two reportedly famous mercenaries that I had never heard of before this week mixed up? “So that would make you Mr Jeralt Eisner. Got it. Say– your daughter wouldn’t happen to have bluish hair, a cape with sleeves, and a stony disposition?”

“That sounds like her, yeah. Have you met?” Oh no.

Crest?

Seiros. Major.

That’s weird, especially since Seiros is here too. Unless this random mercenary is descended from the Imperial throne. 

But that would not explain why his spawn has Nemesis’ Crest. There is something more here.

Hm…

“Not formally, but I saw her talking with the members of the Blue Lions house,” I mentioned. “I apologize for not knowing who you were. Er, I’m terribly sorry to cut this conversation short, but I need to deliver these papers to Seteth. You’ll have to excuse me.”

“It’s no problem, kid,” he said as I left, and it took all my willpower to not bristle in hate at the usage of that last word.

Back to business. I knocked on the Nabatean’s door, and thankfully it opened swiftly enough.

“Good afternoon, Link. How fares this moon for you?”

“Well enough,” I said. “Shamir wanted me to drop off all of this.” I set the missive on his desk.

“Thank you.”

“It seems that the whole monastery is abuzz with talk about Jeralt and his daughter,” I commented. “The way I understand it, he was the old captain of the Knights of Seiros, but left the Church twenty-one years ago. Now he and his daughter are mercenaries of great renown? Which is odd, since I had never heard of either of them before now. And now Jeralt is back in the Knights, and his daughter is… teaching?”

“Yes, that is the situation. Although I have my reservations on both fronts, it was Rhea’s idea to instate both of them.” Oh yeah, I had overheard their conversation on the topic. Now that I had faces to put on those names… well, this was shaping up to be an interesting year. And not necessarily in a good way. What on earth was the archbishop thinking?

“I don’t mean to question Lady Rhea, but I can’t help but feel that this is an exceptionally bad idea. Handing the education of Fodra’s–” I realized my mistake and feigned a cough. “Fódlan’s future, excuse me, to someone who just showed up one day seems like a monumental oversight.”

“The goddess works in strange ways,” Seteth mused, not sounding particularly enthused.

“That sounds like Church speak for ‘I don’t know what’s going on but I don’t want to sound like I don’t know what’s going on’,” I blurted. Once I realized exactly what I had said– and the implications– I clammed up, not wanting to incriminate myself further.

“Perhaps,” Seteth agreed, throwing me for a loop. “But it is often difficult– and sometimes even impossible– to admit that we do not have many of the answers. Many people find comfort in being part of a greater plan.”

“Are you one of those people?”

“The Church of Seiros teaches that the goddess has a plan for all of us. But to know the full blueprint would be to know every interaction, to know every person as intimately than they know themselves. That is, of course, impossible. So I live my life as I choose to, and find my comfort in myself, my family both found and by blood, and my actions– and I do not begrudge those who would live their lives differently. To answer your question more directly, no. I may not be aware of the greater whole, but I draw my strength from the bonds I have forged with those around me, such as Flayn and Rhea. That is my choice. That is my comfort.”

Curious. For years, I had been told that I was a ‘child of destiny’ chosen by the goddesses to save Hyrule. I was chosen by the Master Sword, chosen to use the Ocarina of Time to save Termina, chosen as champion of Katáktisi. To hear a high-ranking member of the Church– an organization that promoted fear towards people from outside of Fodra– claim to believe in the exact opposite was surprising, and honestly refreshing.

“I think that’s a very good way of seeing it. I might just adopt it myself.”

Don’t you see it? The Fierce Deity snarled. He is corrupting you. His ideas mesh with yours. Soon you will be nothing more than a little Cichol. And I will be forced to cut you down.

Isn’t this an ideology you yourself would back?

Be silent.

You’re all for throwing out the concept of destiny! I shouted internally. Seteth is saying I should seize my own meaning, seize my own concept of victory.

Katáktisi said nothing for a moment. It seemed genuinely contemplative, or at least as close to contemplative as it ever had been before– especially considering this was a Nabatean we were talking about. I will allow it, it seethed. Just this once.

I smiled, surprised that I had actually managed to undeniably win an argument with the magical murder mask. Usually it just grumbled and stopped talking, and no real progress was made. “I should probably get back to business, sir. I enjoyed our conversation.”

“Actually, Link, I have something to ask of you.” I was all ears. “If you have the time, I would like you to keep an eye on Professor Eisner. Since you already have a rapport with the prince of Faerghus, I imagine it would not be difficult to be discreet.”

Eisner must have been the last name of the Ashen Demon. “I can do that. Would you like me to report back to you with a particular cadence?”

Seteth grinned. “Whenever you believe it is best is perfectly acceptable to me. That is all.”

I turned to leave, but another thought struck me. “Did we ever figure out what happened to Monica?”

“I believe the consensus is that she ran away. Although it is strange that she would do so just before graduating… We have little else in the way of explanation, unsatisfying though it may be.”

My face scrunched up. Something felt… wrong about it, but I couldn’t place it. Neither could Katáktisi. “Alright, Seteth. Does that mean we should stop looking?”

“I believe at this juncture, we have no choice but to focus on this new class over the departed one, and pray that no other such occurrences happen this year.”

~~~

The library was mostly empty save for a couple of new students and the object of my interest. I casually strolled up to the aging librarian and gently rapped on one of the wooden arches that supported the ceiling to get his attention.

“Ah, Link!” He greeted me warmly, like he did with everyone. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing quite alright,” I responded. “I just swung by to return this…” I dug Introduction to Magic out of my pouch. I had finished it in Seteth’s office a while back, but I figured I would simply return it to the library directly.

Tomas took the book and ambled over to the other side of the room, reaching with shaking hands to put the tome on a high bookshelf. I would have helped, but I was regrettably far too short to aid in such a thing.

“If you would like, I can get something a bit more advanced for you, since you have the basics in your repertoire,” Tomas offered.

“Maybe later,” I said. “Did you hear about the new professor debacle?”

“I did indeed! Very curious, but if the archbishop sees something in her, who am I to judge? I also heard that there is going to be a mock battle between the houses sometime this moon, to prepare for the Battle of Eagle and Lion later in the year.”

I blinked. That was news to me. “Really? They’re really giving her no time to prepare, huh?”

“So it would seem. Say– if you were to attend, would you tell me who ends up being victorious? I would go myself, but these old bones aren’t what they used to be.”

As someone who had worn the skin of a child and an adult, a Kokiri and a Hylian, a Deku, a Goron, a Zora, and a god, I was all too aware of the negative effects of the passage of time. I shot him an award-winning smile. “Sure thing, Tomas. I promise.”

~~~

The day had come in the middle of the month. The three houses had gathered in a small glen close to Garreg Mach. Each house was eight strong, not including their teachers. The winds were fairly strong today, so I double-checked that my pointed ears were properly hidden behind my hat. It wouldn’t do to announce my abnormalcy any more than I already had.

“I’m sure you’re all already aware, but the house that defeats the others is declared the winner,” Jeralt ordered. “Incidentally, I’ll be overseeing this mock battle. So listen well if you want to win.”

So that explained why Rhea and Seteth weren’t here. They pawned off the role of overseer to Jeralt. There were only a handful of Knights present to observe, and I was standing in for Tomas. Everyone was equipped with merely training weapons that couldn’t kill. I guess that was reasonable, especially given Dimitri’s super strength and goddesses knew what other superpowers everyone else who had Crests possessed.

“None of your shallow tactics are required, Claude,” said someone with the most egregious bowl cut I had ever seen. “Ignatz and I will dismantle the opposition.”

“M-me?” blurted someone with an only marginally better head of hair, presumably Ignatz. “But I’m not ready!”

“Are you making light of our new Professor?” the Golden Deer house leader– Claude, I reasoned– asked. “If you drop your guard, you’re going to get hurt…”

While that tete-a-tete was going on, the Black Eagles had sent one of their own– a girl with long hair and a hat– to fire off some spells in the Blue Lion’s direction and act as bait. Most likely, they hoped to draw out the Lions and cut them down. Hanneman and Manuela were hanging back in some sort of makeshift fortifications, but the new professor was on the front lines herself.

Meanwhile, some of the Black Eagles and Golden Deer were trading blows with each other. The Blue Lions, on the other hand, appeared to be waiting on the outskirts for the most part, sending pairs to tag-team those on the outskirts. I watched as Dedue and… was it Sylvain? No, it was Ashe. Regardless, they were both engaging with the Black Eagle mage, Dedue staying up-close-and-personal to give Ashe enough time to score a finishing blow with his bow. Meanwhile, Felix and the guy who was actually Sylvain had engaged Ignatz, the former striking his weapon so powerfully that his bow shattered in two. “I’ve lost,” he commented. “The new professor is quite the commander.”

Sylvain and Felix rounded on Bowl Cut Guy, only to realize that the Ashen Demon had taken care of him entirely a long time ago. Meanwhile up north, the fight between Golden Deer and Black Eagles was getting fairly intense. And it was about to get even more heated as the Blue Lions organized into a spearlike formation and punched straight into the fray, surrounding Mercedes, Ashe, and the orange-haired girl whose name I still didn’t know with their melee fighters, allowing them to continue firing spells and arrows without worrying about enemy fighters getting in their face. The professor was there as well, engaging with Claude personally while Dimitri covered her flank against the Black Eagles house leader. I think she might have been that Edelgard person that the crown prince mentioned?

After a couple of minutes of brutal fighting, the Black Eagles and Golden Deer were all but decimated. All that was left to do for the Blue Lions was to pick off any survivors, regroup, and round on Hanneman and Manuela. I had to admit, the new professor was smart. She allowed the other two houses to wear themselves out against each other while taking the time to cover their flanks from both other houses. Then she came up with a brilliant formation on the fly to serve as a battering ram between the lines, allowing everyone’s strengths to shine while flawlessly covering their weaknesses. And they did it all with a practiced ease. At once, I understood why the Ashen Demon had such a fearsome reputation.

“My goodness,” Hanneman got out after being soundly defeated by a combination of Ingrid, the professor, and Mercedes. “The leadership of someone with actual battle experience is… well! I was as good as useless!”

“Well done,” Manuela admitted to the end of Dimitri’s lance. “I nearly wound up a patient in my own infirmary.”

“Alright, that’s that!” Jeralt called, clasping his hands together. “The winner of this mock battle is… the Blue Lion House!”

Vibing

Review please!

NaoBea (FF): I know this is purely coincidence, but I literally just finished a Teatime for Link where they talked about that a bit. I’ll say this, though– Katáktisi’s tipping point will come sooner than you might think.

DarthFlores (FF): Totally agree with you about Tiki, I hadn’t even thought of that! Maybe I should have written a crossover for FE3 instead. Ah well.

Regarding Byleth, while I did consider leaning towards Dimileth, I decided against doing so a couple of months ago. There’s a scene or two of Link teasing Dimitri about his relationship with Byleth, but that’s as far as I intend on going on that front. Male Byleth and Female Byleth are basically the same character for me– while I prefer Guyleth’s design, I think Girlleth helps round out the gender gap in Blue Lions (including Link, it’s 6-3), and I like to have my cast of characters balanced. Funny story about Byleth’s gender, actually– I was on like chapter 12 when I realized I had been using they/them for her the entire time and I had to go back and fix it all. Goes to show how little of a difference it’s really going to make.

 At present, the only ship I feel somewhat confident about putting into CC is Ashe and Dedue in the background, because in doing research for this fic I watched their support and it’s really sweet. On an off note, did you know that Petra is fifteen at the start of the game, making her the third youngest character behind Cyril and Lysithea? That really caught me off guard when I looked at her wiki page. I thought she was older than Edelgard for some reason.

Hydra1996 (FF): This story is not currently planning to go down the Crimson Flower route. To be honest I don’t entirely get the Edelgard hate– she wants to upend a pretty bad system and build something better, and her main failing was turning to the Agarthans for that purpose (which was Hubert’s idea, not hers). Were I to write this for Crimson Flower, I’d definitely try to address that more than the game did. (That isn’t the game’s fault, it just had an unfortunate lack of development time. I believe that if it got an extra 2 chapters and she was confronted for blaming the Javelins on the Church, people would like her a lot more and appreciate her more as a character.) I feel like I’m alone in liking Claude, Dimitri, Edelgard, and Rhea pretty equally.

AXCN (AO3): Boss, the water temple is great. What are you on about? Thanks for the review!

Norre (AO3): Glad to hear it! I definitely do fall into the trap of ‘haha termina moment’ every now and again, as it is definitely something that I feel I have to address, but I feel that I have to give Ocarina of Time some credit and I do lean into that more.

Quarantine0 (FF): Thank you!

Chapter Text

We’re seven chapters in, averaging about 6 reviews per chapter. Now that I have a good readerbase, the only logical path forward is to start throwing haymakers!

Chapter VIII

Out of all the places to be in Garreg Mach that weren’t strictly off-limits– the Holy Tomb came to mind– this was certainly the place I had been the least.

Cyril was off training with Shamir on the bow, which meant that he couldn’t make his shift for feeding the pegasi. He had already taken care of the wyverns, thank the Three, but the other flying animals had to be looked after. In return for covering him here, he had taken over Manuela Duty for the day, which ended up freeing up a lot of my time. I could spend it with Dimitri and the other Blue Lions.

“Hey there,” I greeted. The big beasts eyed me slightly suspiciously. “Yeah, I know, I’m not Cyril. He’s busy learning how to hit the broad side of a barn, so you’re stuck with me.”

I whistled Epona’s Song as I worked, doling out hay for them to feed on. They were Galatea-bred pegasi if I recalled correctly– one could tell roughly where they were from by the amount of feathers on the wings. More feathers suggested a colder environment. It also meant that, as the rainy season neared, they were going to be losing some of those feathers. It was important to keep their pens clean. Pegasi were more particular about those sorts of things than horses were. Like how Fodra was more… well, particular wasn’t the right word. Fodra was certainly more ridiculous than Hyrule ever was. Sure, Hyrule had Gorons, Zora, the Deku Tree, and copious amounts of time travel. But Fodra had Faith and Reason, and Crests, and flying horses, and flying lizards that weren’t dragons, and ancient immortal green people, and even ice cream.

And that wasn’t even touching on the Fierce Deity. Actually, on second thought, in comparison to Hyrule ice cream was much weirder.

I had purchased a notebook from a redheaded vendor earlier this week. If I was going to be stuck in a closed temporal loop against my will, I was going to need records of what I did and what effects that had. The Bomber’s Notebook was all well and good, but I had more or less filled it to the brim with notes regarding Termina. I quickly penciled in an entry stating that I fed the pegasi in place of Cyril for today, the twenty-third of the Great Tree Moon.

I also made a note to figure out what in Fodra, Hyrule, and Termina happened to all the sponges. A good number of them had just disappeared out of nowhere and hadn’t been returned. 

~~~

I waved to Cyril as I entered the greenhouse. It was time to check up on my Deku Nuts. I hadn’t really gone in to check on them recently, so hopefully they were still alive.

I had planted them next to some Duscur lilies that I recognized from Dedue’s room in Fhirdiad. It was a convenient landmark to remember where I put them. What really drew my attention, though, was the fact that Ashe was wandering around the greenhouse, observing all the various flora. I was fairly certain his name was Ashe.

He was approaching the area of my interest… the Duscur flowers. And right next to it was a retracted Deku Baba. Normally, Deku Babas used vibrations in the ground to sense when it was in danger. However, the greenhouse was set up such that plants were put in specialized troughs containing different types of soil. Since that wasn’t necessarily connected to the ground, did that mean–

The Baba sprung out of its compressed state and lunged at the student, who yelped in surprise and backed away. Smart kid– he ended up just out of range of its biting bulb. It drew itself back slowly, rebalanced, and retreated its stalk back into the safety of the ground. 

“You alright?” I felt I had to ask. I rushed over to his current position.

“Um–” he stammered. “Yes, I’m– I just– I wasn’t expecting a plant to rise out of the ground and try to bite me.”

“Startled me too, when I first saw it,” I confessed in an effort to make him feel better. 

“Maybe Lord Lonato would recognize it.” I vaguely remembered overhearing Duke Rufus mentioning that name once. He was a lord in western Faerghus, if my memory served me correctly. “He taught me everything I know about herbs, including how to tell them apart and which ones you can use to make medicines.”

“These little gremlins–” I gestured towards the offending plant– “are called Deku Babas. They sense vibrations in the earth to know when danger approaches, then they try to take a chunk out of whoever got too close. But they’re useful. You can cut off their heads to get Deku Nuts, and their stalks make for wonderful torches in a pinch.”

“I’ve never heard of them! Where are they from?”

“They’re pretty common where I’m from. They typically grow deep in the forests of eastern Faerghus. You’re in the Blue Lions, right? And if you know Lord Lonato, then you’re probably from the west? Would make sense if you’d never seen one before.”

“That’s incredible! And– how did you know I was from the Blue Lions?”

“I saw you with Prince Dimitri in the Blue Lions common room last moon, before the mock battle. Figured I would wager a guess. Congratulations on winning that, by the way.”

“I guess that makes sense. Wait– I just realized that I don’t even know your name! I’m Ashe– Ashe Ubert.”

“I’m Link. It’s nice to meet you.”

We shook hands, and I quickly decapitated the Deku Baba for an extra handful of nuts. Its jaws would grow back in a couple of weeks.

~~~

The sound of the repeated clanging of weapon on weapon lured me to the training grounds. It wasn’t Catherine; rather, it seemed that the entire Blue Lion house had congregated there to train together, Professor Eisner included. It looked like they were undergoing some pretty intense drills. Maybe I could pick up a thing or two if I hung out and observed from the sidelines.

“The mock battle was just that– a mock battle,” she was saying. “In a mock battle, there’s no punishment for loss. No stakes. No threat. A mock battle is not like a real firefight. In such an encounter, there is only victory or death.”

She understands, Katáktisi said, a hint of admiration in its voice.

“And to survive a real battle, you need instincts . Reactions honed to a razor edge. The ability to know what to do next without taking the time–” Immediately, there was the sound of something wet smacking into flesh. The orange-haired girl whose name I wasn’t entirely sure of let out a quiet “ow”. A sopping sponge fell to the stone floor of the training ground. Huh. So that was where the sponges went. 

“--to think over it,” the professor finished. “Congratulations, Annette. You’re dead.”

The monotone delivery made me snort despite myself. I heard another loud smack, quickly accompanied by the squelch of a squeezed sponge.

“Be more like Felix. Felix gets to continue to be alive.

“Now,” she said, clasping her hands. “This should be the last time we perform this exercise. I hope the lesson has properly sunk in for all of you. As of now, I would like to assess each of your abilities directly. We’ll go in ascending alphabetical order. Sylvain, that means you’re up first.”

“Wish me luck,” Sylvain commented, a training lance already in his hands. He moved to strike, thrusting forward. The professor danced around him, her own weapon flashing in the morning sun, before executing a brutal chop. Sylvain was able to block, but he was forced onto the defensive. He backed up to put some space between himself and the mercenary, knowing that since his weapon was longer, he had the advantage of reach. Unfortunately, Professor Eisner was as fast as a bird, rapidly closing the distance and always keeping Sylvain on the defensive. It was a commanding and unrelenting attack, and while there were certainly moments where it almost looked like he would get the upper hand, she kept crashing it back down to reality. Somehow, it seemed as though she was barely even trying. The spar dragged on for a couple more minutes until, abruptly, a formerly concealed dagger found its way to his throat.

“Letting your mind wander is an excellent way to get yourself killed, mister Gautier,” the Ashen Demon chastised without a hint of emotion in her tone. “You were so busy staring at my chest that you didn’t notice my knife for a full minute.” Huh. I guessed there was a reason for her ridiculous armor.

“Seriously, Sylvain?” Ingrid chastised.

Several sputtered half-defenses later, Mercedes took the field, gripping her sword all wrong. She was definitely a healer before a fighter, and it showed. She barely attacked, electing to use her blade exclusively for defensive purposes and sling a couple of spells, which seemed to have some sort of vampiric effect. Eisner, for her part, didn’t really attack as much as she did with Sylvain– she was content more to prod at Mercedes’ defenses, occasionally unleashing a bout of impressive swordplay before going back to a more passive style.

“That’s enough, Mercedes,” the professor eventually said. “I think you might do better using a bow– you will benefit from being able to pick off enemies from longer ranges in conjunction with Nosferatu. While I understand the need to heal others in battle, that’s no excuse to neglect your own ability to defend yourself. Still, for the niche you are going to fill in our team composition, you did well.”

“Thank you, Professor!”

“Ingrid, the floor is yours.”

The blonde girl was also a lance user. Between her, Sylvain, and Dimitri, it seemed that half the darn class used the long sharp sticks. I didn’t know what Ashe and Annette used, to be fair.

Ingrid was certainly more focused than Sylvain, to be sure. She tended to pursue with her spear more than he had. But while she was landing more hits, it appeared that she wasn’t hitting quite as hard. Whether it was an issue of strength or control, I couldn’t know for sure. The professor was, at the very least, concentrating a little harder than she had before. But it could only last for so long.

“Your speed is good,” she said, “and your technique is solid. But your power is lacking. Using your pegasus to give yourself extra momentum is all well and good, but there may come times when you’re not able to mount said pegasus. You must be prepared for those as well.”

“Understood, Professor. I’ll be sure to not let you down.” 

Byleth smiled. “Felix.”

“I’ve been waiting for this,” the scion of House Fraldarius declared, twirling his blade in a silent challenge. Immediately, the Ashen Demon was upon him, and each of them became a whirlwind of steel. I could barely keep track of what was happening– strikes and blocks and thrusts melding seamlessly into each other, culminating in a particularly intimate waltz with defeat. Somehow, the professor managed to knee Felix in the lower abdominal, and the infinitesimal pause in surprise was all the give she needed to disarm him.

“You did almost everything right,” she praised. “Your only mistake was thinking you had me all figured out. When I changed things up, you took too long to react. But my main concern with you is your ability to work with the rest of the house.”

“Tch.”

I like that one, Katáktisi commented. He would have made a fine host.

Hey.

I said host. Not champion.

“Dimitri.”

If anyone was going to destroy the Professor, it was going to be Dimitri. Felix was good, sure, but the Crest of Blaiddyd was nothing to scoff at. He routinely beat me senseless every time we sparred in Fhirdiad. Granted, that wasn’t saying much– I was pretty easy to beat senseless– but I had gotten to the point where I could go toe to toe with Dedue on the best of days. And I had only gotten better since then.

“Whenever you are ready, Professor.”

Byleth made the universal gesture for come at me. Dimitri pounced–

It was over almost as soon as it started. With some impossible speed, Byleth had broken his lance completely in half. Her sword was upon his cheek, passing just inches from his left eye. My jaw all but dropped.

“Dimitri,” the professor chastised. “Did you really expect that just charging at me headfirst would work out?”

The crown prince was silent. Felix snorted. “Knock it off,” Dedue advised quietly.

“You must always have a plan ,” the professor stated. “A full frontal assault can work sometimes, but only if all you need is unrelenting brute force. You have more weapons than merely your lance. Use them.” Byleth turned away.

“I…”

“I know.”

Dimitri returned to the other students. The grounds were filled with a strange, awkward ambience. “Dedue, it’s your turn.”

I knew Dedue’s style from experience. He was a wall of muscle, a veritable tank whose modus operandi was controlling space to protect his allies. Byleth would throw herself forward, engaging in intense bouts for a couple of moments before backing away. The staccato bursts of combat echoed throughout the room. Dedue, surprisingly, was able to keep her at axe’s length most of the time.

“Your form is good, and your ability to keep me at bay was acceptable,” the professor said. “However, it was just that. There was little offense to balance with your defense. While I was kept out of your sphere of influence, I could attack it from anywhere. Develop a counterbalance to your stalwart defense and you’ll become a force to be reckoned with.”

Dedue nodded in understanding, but said nothing. He returned to Dimitri’s side, and Ashe took over, gripping a bow tightly. He fired a handful of shots, and the professor was momentarily content to just dodge. She was hit a fair amount of times, though. Was this all she was going to do? Surely not…

Then, quick as a flash, she was in his face, blade forward, jabbing into Ashe’s midsection. She didn’t draw blood– these were training weapons, after all– but it was enough to get the message. “Your technique is on point,” she lauded, “and you did a good job of leading your shots even when I was trying to mix things up. But when I closed the distance, you froze up. On the battlefield, that’s a surefire way to die. But that’s something that’s not super difficult to work on. Now, Annette– let’s finish off today’s exercise.”

I discovered pretty quickly that Annette was a spellcaster. Tongues of sharpened wind surrounded her as glyphs materialized in the air. I had seen a couple droplets of Faith magic in Fhirdiad, but this was completely different. It must have been the supposedly superior Reason. Katáktisi grumbled.

They traded blows for a fair while, spells and silver flying through the air. Each move was blocked and countered. Occasionally Byleth would gain ground, but a blast of wind magic would push her away. After some unseen checkpoint, the battle was over.

“Your technique is flawless,” Byleth said. “And you have a good head on your shoulders once you’re in it. However– there were times when you held back, as though waiting for someone else to swoop in. Working well with allies is an excellent skill to have, but it is important not to be reliant on them.”

“I understand, Professor!”

“All together, I think we could be a lot worse,” Byleth said, clasping her hands together. “We’ll be performing more exercises like this to better cement our team cohesion. We’re going to need to work like a well-oiled machine if we are to take down the bandits at the Red Canyon.”

I had seen enough. I quickly slunk away.

~~~

“And the thief stole… what this time?”

“Just a couple of haddocks,” Annika was saying. She, like myself and Cyril, was a youth who had been taken in by the monastery from unique circumstances. “They’ve been doing this for a while. But we’re never able to catch them…”

“Alright. Do you mind if I poke around in the pantry? Maybe they left some kind of clue.”

“Be my guest– it’d be a relief to get this out of our hair.”

I stepped into the room. It was piled high with foodstuffs, some preserved and some fresh. I reviewed what I knew. This thief was a repeat offender, consistently stealing food from the pantry. It always happened when no one was looking– or so the dining hall staff claimed. It was exclusively meats and fish that were taken. The actual quantity of goods stolen per day was low– I guessed it was the principle of the thing that had the staff in such a hubbub.

The pantry was kept under lock and key at all times, so it was relatively secure. Given the lack of torn packaging, I thought it reasonable to assume that it wasn’t the handiwork of mice or other vermin.

There– a small window near the top of the wall illuminated the room. It looked to be just the right size for a small adult to slip into. I clambered up the shelf, put my hand on the glass, and voila! There was the entry point! I closed it back up and took extra care to lock it. Now it was a matter of tracking down the culprit… Since nobody had ever been seen entering or exiting the grounds or moving suspiciously about the monastery– as far as I was aware– it only stood to follow that our thief was from outside. In order for someone to consistently take food… that meant the forest. And that was a lead.

Words cannot begin to describe how tortured your logic is, Katáktisi criticized.

Do you have any better ideas? Let me guess– you telling me the answer ‘robs me of the chance to grow’, blah blah blah…

Well, that. But it’s also simply much more entertaining to see you helplessly flounder around the solution.

Silence.

You’re kind of the worst, Katáktisi.

I had only ever come out to the woods by Garreg Mach to chop firewood. But now, I was on the hunt. I had to get my entertainment where I could. At least we were into the new year, which heralded the beginning of spring. In Faerghus, springtime was barely a reprieve from the harsh cold; in fact, it dipped far below zero every night. Down here, zero degrees was considered ‘freezing.’ There had been no such nomenclature in Hyrule or Termina; I had only ever known qualitative expressions for hot and cold. Now I could put a number to it.

I kept an eye out for any outstanding abnormalities– a stray footprint, a disturbed patch of grass. Anything could be a pointer to our stealing friend.

This… whatever it was definitely wasn’t it, though.

In the middle of the natural trail sat a collection of sticks, clearly put together with some level of intent, connected to some kind of noose. I couldn’t decipher what it was for. Was it supposed to trap an animal? That was ridiculous– it seemed so easy to escape from! Especially if nobody was around to watch it! I had conducted my fair share of hunting for food, but I had always done it with a bow in hand. It was just cleaner to shoot them right between the eyes. Saved on time and hassle.

“Hey now! Don’t get too close to that trap!”

I took a step back and whirled to face the new arrival. She had the same hair color as Annette and was also wearing Officer’s Academy clothes, but that was more or less where the similarities ended. I think she was in Golden Deer?

“Sorry, is this yours?”

“Sure is. Admiring my handiwork?”

“I was trying to figure out what it was,” I explained. “I don’t get how it’s supposed to work.”

“It’s pretty simple. It’s just a motion-triggered grave trap,” she explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Whenever an animal steps in it, it picks them up and hangs them. Then, you can come back and collect them.”

“That sounds really inefficient,” I couldn’t help but comment. “So many things could potentially happen in between those events. Plus it can’t catch anything more than a rather small rabbit.”

“If these things didn’t work, I would be dead,” she countered. “Have you ever gone hunting?”

“Of course,” I assured. “But I never used these arrangements of little sticks. Hunting is as easy as tracking your target, sneaking up as close as possible, and shooting them in the head. If you’re smart about it, you can bag pretty much anything.”

“You’re only one person. Traps can cover more ground.”

“Doesn’t help if they don’t do anything.”

“Captain Jeralt himself showed me how to make these! I’m his first and best apprentice, after all!”

What was I doing here, again? Oh, right. I was tracking that thief. “Speaking of traps, how many of these are there?”

“Only a couple dozen. What’s it to you?”

“The dining staff are reporting some kind of thief in the pantry. I’m fairly certain they’re based in this forest. You wouldn’t happen to have seen any suspicious persons while setting or checking these dinky little things?”

The student rolled her eyes. “No, haven't seen anyone like that.” Darn, there went that lead.

“Could you keep an eye out for me?”

“Sure thing. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Link.”

“Leonie.”

“Pleasure.”

“Same to you.”

~~~

The market was bustling, as always. It was full of people buying and selling, people enjoying the warm Harpstring Moon air. It was a nice reprieve from the long winter, although it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it usually was in Faerghus. I had come down to pick up some supplies for the infirmary– they had run out of gauze, somehow. It was almost Garland Moon, actually– why on earth were the names of the months so ridiculous? Now that I thought about it, why did they have varying numbers of days? In Termina, it had always been twenty-eight days to a month and thirteen months to a year, plus the Carnival of Time which was separate from the rest of the days. That just made more sense than… whatever the heck they were doing in Fodra. It was like clockwork.

“You think I’d cheat? On you, baby?” I overheard Sylvain saying to some nameless girl in the middle of the street. “Never. Come on, you should know me better than that. You’re the only one for me. I swear.” Knowing what I knew about Sylvain, it seemed pretty routine for him. Basically every interaction he ever seemed to have with members of the opposite gender– who weren’t named Ingrid, anyway– were incredibly flirtatious. Not even the new implacable professor was safe. “Hey, if you don’t believe me, well…

“Oh. I get it,” he said after not a moment’s thought. “If I’m not your type, do you want me to introduce you to some other guys who have Crests? They’re all nobles, just like me.” What on earth did Crests have to do with anything? They didn’t have anything to do with personality or appearance.

“What?!” the town girl stammered. “This isn’t why I’m– You–” She stamped her foot. “You’re worse than I thought!”

Sylvain shrugged. “I just want you to be happy. You know, get what you want. I hate seeing a girl cry, especially one as…”

A brisk wind picked up, sending a shiver snaking up my spine. I looked away from the honestly kind of pathetic scene, towards my right, roughly in the direction of the greenhouse. The crowd parted, but for a moment. I had line of sight in that direction, straight through to the wares stall on the edge of the pavilion.

And standing there, as though for all the world amused, was the Happy Mask Salesman.

The Goddesses-forsaken Happy Goddesses-damned Mask Salesman.

Who is that, Katáktisi demanded.

He’s the Happy Mask Salesman , I explained. He’s… the man who taught me the Song of Healing. What is he doing here?

Do not approach him, it snapped.

We held eye contact. I feel like I have to. My legs felt as though they were made of jelly, but I nonetheless picked my way towards the shop. My heart pumped faster and faster with every step.

The Salesman laughed in that mysterious, all-knowing way of his. “Whenever there’s a meeting, a parting is sure to follow. However–”

“That parting need not last forever,” I finished, trying with all my might to steady my rapidly fraying nerves. It was only experience with the Salesman and a singular last thread of decorum that kept me in place and not running for my life. “It has been some time.”

“Still trying to make everyone… happy?”

My hair stood on end. “What’s it to you?”

The Salesman leaned forward slightly, but it was as though he towered over me like the peaks of the Oghma Mountains. “Are you…” He moved without moving, tilting his head ever so slightly.  “Happy?”

I was going to respond, but the words lodged in my throat. I couldn’t bring myself to answer. “Where is it?” I choked, hoping he would understand.

“It is safe,” he replied, shifting to a contemplative pose. “Dormant. It will not cause you trouble, I hope? Although it is no match for one such as you, Hero of Termina?”

“I bested it before,” I said. “I could do it again.”

Mind your tongue, the Fierce Deity advised tersely. You dance upon the edge of a knife. One misstep and it will be over.

It hadn’t reminded me of such dangers in a long time, even when interacting with the Nabateans. Even more so than with Seteth, Flayn, and Rhea? Erm, Cichol, Cethleann, and Seiros?

No. Should you blunder here, at least I will be fine.

“With difficulty,” I added lamely. “Why have you come to Fódlan?”

“It is a simple thing– I am always in search of rare masks to add to my collection,” the Salesman explained. “There exist others of its ilk, scattered through time and circumstance. One such mask is here.”

A creeping suspicion clawed at my mind. “Why do you need me? Is it–”

The older man cackled once more. “You see, young one, this particular mask is just that… particular. About who sees it, about who dons it, who uses it. It is not a destructive thing, like that which was stolen from me by that imp. Why, it may be the key to the salvation of this world… and perhaps before it heals this world, it may heal you as well. In a way that I never could.”

I froze, a bead of sweat rolling down my brow. The Salesman spoke of healing… if this mask truly was as powerful as he said, could it ease Dimitri’s pain? Fix the systems that were breaking or broken? Shame flooded my body as I thought of more selfish aims. Could it cure my dysphoria? Wipe clean the slate that was tainted by Majora and Ganondorf?

Katáktisi was silent, although whether it was being contemplative or remorseful I couldn’t say.

 “Oh-ho! Is that such a surprise?” the shopkeeper exclaimed, shifting once again to an open-armed pose. “Now… I am still a very busy fellow… I must be leaving this monastery within the year. Won’t you please help me find the mask? If you do, I may be inclined to… trade.”

I tried to convince myself that I didn’t need fixing, that Fodra would survive without this miracle mask of his. As much as it hurt, I was about to turn away, to reject everything this demon in disguise had to offer. I had already been hurt enough by consigning myself to his bargain in the past. But then I looked closer. The masks… no, it couldn’t be!

It was true. Hanging proudly from the Salesman’s shop were the masks. Masks I had poured my blood, sweat, and tears into to get. Masks I had traded to Majora on the moon. How on earth did the Salesman get ahold of them? Then again, how did the Salesman do anything?

“Alright,” I said, feeling utterly defeated. “What’s the lead?”

“For one such as yourself, it should by no means be a difficult task,” he said cryptically. “It lies deep in the Red Canyon, in the fallen city. Retrieve the mask, Hero of Termina. Retrieve the mask…”

The Red Canyon… that was in the mountains by Garreg Mach, where Professor Byleth and her students were now. I would need to get a hold of a ride, as I couldn’t really just walk there. But who would drive me all the way up there, especially considering my other duties that also demanded my attention? 

I turned away. First things first– even if the mask he spoke of could restore me, I needed to get out of this accursed shop before his presence alone killed me. Seek out a silent place, Katáktisi whispered in my ear, and my subconscious obeyed.

My feet guided me to the library on the second floor of the chapel, of all places. I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going, and I only realized where I was when I saw Tomas alone in the room, his cane propped up against a chair, fully engrossed with a large book.

Cede control to me.

I was caught off-guard by the demand for just a moment– enough for the presence in the mask to wrest control of my lips.

“O Καϊάφας έχει τρελαθεί,” Katáktisi said through my lips. I was in such a daze from seeing that… being again that I didn’t have the strength to hold my tongue. Our duality was grating, spoken as though there were two voices in one mouth. Which, to be fair, there were.

Tomas straightened, his whole demeanor changing in an instant. Was it that he was caught off guard by the mask’s outburst? “O Καϊάφας επέστρεψε?” Definitely not, if he could immediately fire back with the same gibberish.

Katáktisi, what the hell are you doing?

There was a silent pause. Ah. You… do not understand. Be silent and do not struggle. I will explain once this conversation is done. But I cannot bestow upon you the ancient tongue and perform this most vital task at the same time.

“Έχει χάσει ότι λίγο έχει απομείνει από τις αισθήσεις του,” the mask explained as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “Έχει στήσει παγίδα θανάτου στην Καταραμένη Πόλη. Θα κατέστρεφε αυτόν τον υπέροχο οικοδεσπότη.”

“Συνήθως δεν είσαι τόσο... δεμένος. Γιατί?”

“Ο Μιζέρια είναι νεκρός .”

That shut the aging man up. Whoever he really was. “Πως?”

Katáktisi tsked. “ Σκοτώθηκε από αυτό ακριβώς το σώμα. Η σωματική του δύναμη σίγουρα λείπει, αλλά το πνεύμα του είναι πιο δυνατό από το αρχαίο θήραμα. Αυτός ο οικοδεσπότης πρέπει να διατηρηθεί. Θα γίνει ένα όπλο που θα ξεπεράσει ακόμα και τα δόρατα του φωτός μας. Εάν προετοιμαστεί σωστά.”

Whoever the librarian truly was nodded slowly. “Παράξενος. Ότι ένας θνητός θα μπορούσε να νικήσει τον α Σιγίλφάσμα–” His eyes darted around the room. “Είναι αδιανόητο. Αλλά έχουν απομείνει μόνο τρεις από το είδος σας. Εάν η διατήρηση του τρέχοντος οικοδεσπότη σας στη ζωή θα σας βοηθήσει, ας είναι.”

“Καϊάφας δεν πρέπει να γνωρίζει αυτή τη συνομιλία. Με κάθε τρόπο, συνεχίστε να προσπαθείτε να τελειοποιήσετε τα νέα σχέδια. Η Aγωνία είναι ακόμα στην κατοχή σου, έτσι δεν είναι?” 

“Ο Aγωνία παραμένει,” said Tomas. He paused for a moment, as though weighing whether or not to give further explanation. “Ο Φρίκη–”

“Θα είναι αρκετό για τα πειράματά σας, σε συνδυασμό με αυτά που σας έχω ήδη δώσει. Η ικανότητα του Λόρδου Επιμενίδη πρέπει να αντιγραφεί με αυτό που ήδη κατέχετε.”

“Θυσικά, Κατάκτηση. Τώρα, απαιτώ–”

From my vantage point behind my own eyes, I felt a sudden revulsion unlike what I’d been feeling already for the last few minutes. What had just happened? I almost felt… woozy…

We stepped out of the room. I had been too stunned to speak, too stunned to plant my feet on the ground when my upstairs neighbor bid them move.

Katáktisi.

Hm?

I’m. Waiting.

Right.

A dizzying wall of information slammed into my mind. Words and meanings and connections ingrained themselves in my mind, ancient and eldritch synapses grafted into my neural wirings. I leaned heavily on the wall for support, hoping beyond hope that Tomas would not be alerted by my plight. My mindspace changed, and at once I understood that very thing that had eluded me mere moments ago. I drew in a deep, raggedy breath. It was time to take a trip down memory lane.

“Caiaphas has gone mad.” 

“Caiaphas has returned?”

“He has lost what little of his senses remained. He has set a deathtrap in the Damned City. He would annihilate this wonderful host.”

“You are not normally so… attached. Why?”

“Misery is dead .”

“How?”

“Slain by this very body. Its physical might is certainly lacking, but its spirit supersedes that of the ancient prey. This host must be maintained. It will become a weapon surpassing even the javelins of light. If groomed properly.”

“Curious. That a mortal would best a Crestwraith– It is inconceivable. But there remain only three of your ilk. If keeping your current host alive will aid you, so be it.”

“Caiaphas must not know of this conversation. By all means, keep trying to perfect the new designs. Agony is still in your possession, is it not?”

“Agony remains. Horror–”

“They will suffice for your experiments, in conjunction with what I have already given you. Epimenides’ craftwork should be replicable with what you possess.”

 “Of course, Κατάκτηση. Now, I require–” The memory ended there.

I had somehow found my way to my bedroom while I was digesting this new information. I let loose a heavy breath as I collapsed onto my small bed. Chief among them was its name. Κατάκτηση. Katáktisi. It was more than just a name– it was a word in the ancient tongue I had just been injected with. It meant ‘Conquest’.

In retrospect, it really was fitting.

Fierce Deity.

That is not a name you have called me for a–

I. Demand. An explanation.

Worry not, the mask assured. Tomas, as you know him, is on our side. He is a member of those who created me. Agartha. As was Lord Epimenides. I was just going to pretend I understood what that meant.

That’s– is Caiaphas–

The Mask Salesman, aye. Oh no. If Caiaphas and Tomas were colleagues as Katáktisi had implied, did that mean that Tomas was going to do to me what the Salesman had done? Were you even paying attention to the conversation? Caiaphas wishes to remove you, so that I may use my power against the Nabateans, alongside the other Crestwraiths. I informed Tomas that I would not part from you.

By saying you were grooming me?! That’s it– get out of my head, you… whatever you are! I dug in my pouch, filled with a maddening hate for that glorified piece of wood, and I wanted nothing more than to smash it into pieces–

Think, Katáktisi boomed. I said what I said to protect you. If Agartha discovered that you were my champion– and that I had no intentions of parting with you until you breathed your last– they would not wait to cut you down. Being bound to you makes me less flexible. Less able to destroy our enemies. It is a practical thing.

I frowned. It sounds like Agartha would sooner kill us than aid us, if they learned of our true nature.

And you think the Nabateans would not?

I never said that.

We walk upon the edge of a knife, Katáktisi said. Any misstep and we are both lost– destroyed completely and utterly, or relegated to an engine of war.

That second one sounds right up your alley, I commented.

It would be without you. War is the water I drink and the winds I sail upon. But it is not only the victory of Agartha that I intend to secure. I wish to see you claim victory as well.

That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I wasn’t going to pretend that this ‘Agartha’ was the be-all end-all of morality. But given what I knew of the Church, and their stranglehold on the people, they may have been the lesser evil. I would have to give it time.

It is the nicest thing I’ve ever said.

For those of you who are wondering, the Agarthan language was all done in Google Translate using Greek (because of the ending characters on dark magic spells and the Seven Sages of Greece naming motif for the major Agarthans). The only exception was Σιγίλφάσμα, which is a portmanteau of Σιγίλ (Sigil, defined as “an inscribed or painted symbol considered to have magical power”, which describes Crests fairly well) and Φάντασμα (Fantasma, literally meaning ghost, which is a synonym of wraith). Hence, Crestwraith.

Review please!

CuddlyManaki (AO3): You’re very welcome! I’m glad I properly established a baseline of FE knowledge through CC– since I was pretty unfamiliar with the characters at the start, I in part used it for myself to help write them better. I think it’s also important to make sure that readers who are more familiar with Zelda can still understand and enjoy the story, and the same goes to those who are more familiar with Three Houses. Just by the nature of Link learning about the world of Fódlan, the reader gets to as well.

DarthFlores (FF): I’m happy to get a reply from you as well! I’m a bit leery of romantically pairing Link with anyone at all, honestly– I’m more or less going off the standard dating-age creepiness rule, where your minimum dating age can be calculated by taking your own age, dividing it by two, and adding seven. By post-timeskip he’ll be 17, so his only real options are Cyril, Lysithea, and Petra, plus Annette if you squint really hard. Even then, by the SDACR, a 40-year-old and a 30-year-old can date pretty comfortably, but it’s not the same if they met ten years earlier. I just kind of want to avoid the question in general. Link and Byleth being friends is definitely a possibility, though!

HiIExist (FF): I must, with great humility and reluctance, admit that I am not a very creative writer. In general, I’m much better suited to novelization-type storytelling than free writing. Mainly because, since I’m still not perfectly versed in the world and characters, I would end up creating holes and contradictions within the setting that would be otherwise problematic. Of course, the story isn’t just going to be ‘the same as AM but Link is also there’-- I do on occasion have bouts of terrible creativity (as you saw with Katáktisi’s proper unveiling as a piece of Agarthan technology and the implementation of HMS). Obviously Link will make a difference in the story, but not for a while. Mostly because I don’t think it’s very realistic for him to make much of a difference in White Clouds (he’s in the same position as Cyril, after all). I’m happy to report that I have written out a vague outline for the post-timeskip that does take some larger deviations from AM and uses elements from the other routes. Thank you so much for your continued support!

Guest (FF): I think Crests and the Triforce are too distinct for Hanneman to be able to pick up on it, especially since the Triforce doesn’t have a genetic component unless it’s Twilight Princess. Like, yeah– Link’s blood isn’t going to be the same as any other human, but finding a trace of an actual goddess is probably off the table.

AXCN (AO3): Glad to hear I’m not alone on that front! If I could sum up Link’s romantic intentions in one Oversimplified quote, it would probably be ‘But right now, the only kind of smashing he was interested in was smashing French guys… in the face.’ Of course, I’m joking– gotta keep the rating accessible– but the point stands that I’m not really planning to add a romantic relationship into CC, especially given his… experiences with Ruto and Nabooru. It only makes sense that he’d have a pretty warped perception of what romance is supposed to be like.

DeathGoddess (AO3): Katáktisi was super fun to write– astute readers could recognize early on (as you did) its use of the term ‘Fell Star’, among other things. I actually initially wrote the story only calling it ‘Conquest’, but later decided against it because Katáktisi is such a cool name. I think Link’s seen a lot weirder things than a race that lives for a long time– I’m pretty sure Gorons can live for a couple of centuries, plus Rauru is right there (unless he’s a ghost, I’ve never been quite sure of that). The comment about the previous pantheon comes from my own personal headcanon and the Romance of the World’s Perdition from the Shadow Library (which I’m considering noncanon because it kind of screws over a lot of stuff). Glad to hear that you’re enjoying the story!

EIDoutlet (FF): That’s just the way that it is on these sites. I’m more than happy to just get a handful of reviews each chapter. Sometimes FFnet eats reviews, so in the future if I don’t respond to a review here that’s probably why. I do intend to add the DLC students, but not in the way that you’re probably expecting. I’ve done so many shieldless 3-heart Master Quest runs of Ocarina of Time that I can’t see Link as having high defense, so I gave him low growth in that (and in Luck because he’s so unlucky haha).

Morio (AO3): I think Cyril’s pretty underrated. Man’s got so many Tellius-tier roasts and nobody seems to talk about it.

TheNotSoFantastique (AO3): Suffice to say it will be a certified King Dodongo moment.

Chapter Text

Swiggity swooty, I’m coming with another chapter. It’s a big one, too.

Chapter IX

Flayn made me a garland.

I guess it was true to the name of the month.

“What’s this for?” I asked.

“I read recently that in this moon, it is common for people to weave garlands of white roses for their friends. Since we are friends, I thought it might improve your dour demeanor.” My… what?

“Flayn, I’ve interacted with you maybe twice. And on top of that… I kind of thought these garlands were for, like, people who were married and stuff. I appreciate the thought, but this is…a bit much.”

“Oh my!” The Nabatean appeared quite shocked. “I had no idea! Please accept my humblest of apologies!”

“Really, it’s fine…” I got out. She was starting to compete with Mercedes for the best living representation of a marshmallow. I cracked a smile, but it didn’t seem to put her at ease. That was probably for the best. “Also, did you just call my demeanor ‘dour’?”

Katáktisi, what does ‘dour’ mean?

Very severe and gloomy.

Wonderful. I was being completely sincere.

“Well, I had simply noticed that you interact with me and my older brother differently than you do with the other residents of the monastery. I thought that if I gave you a token of friendship, you would treat me the same as anyone else who lived here.”

“‘Your older brother?’” I echoed. Since when did Seteth have another kid? Then the realization of what I had said hit me. “... is… well, he’s Seteth. Before you came to the monastery, he warned me to keep a little distance from you. Indirectly.” That was a blatant lie, but I was hoping that Seteth’s habit of shooing off potential suitors made it believable enough to not warrant questioning.

Flayn pouted. “That is ludicrous! Please excuse me– I must give my older brother a piece of my mind!” Shoot, that was not the reaction I wanted!

“No, no, no, no, no! Please– it’s not a problem,” I hastened to say. “Tell you what– let’s just forget that this conversation ever happened. You forget about Seteth, I forget about the garland.” Or at least, its implications.

“If that is what you want, then I will abide.”

I stuffed the white flower wreath into my pouch and errantly waved her away, but she remained rooted, observing what I was doing. Was she going to leave, or–

Kill her.

Would you stop that?

No.

“Do you ever miss home, Link?” I paused my task. Where did that question come from?

“...”

“...”

…

“No. I don’t.”

“Really?” This answer seemed to boggle her tiny little mind. “Everyone has memories of their past. Would you tell me about it?”

We were a tiny commune living deep in the woods of northern Faerghus,” I recited, the words coming as naturally to me as the thrust of a blade. I had been practicing both. “We were completely outside the influence of the country– heck, I didn’t even know there was a world outside of the woods until I left it. I… don’t remember much about it. It was a long time ago.”

“Nothing? Truly?! I can scarcely go five minutes without missing Mother…”

“If I recall correctly, your mother passed away just a couple of moons ago,” I said, the lie passing uninhibited through my lips. “She is… more fresh in your mind than my home is for me.”

The bell rang, signifying the passing of another hour. I tensed subtly for a moment, muscles immediately primed to start running to the next objective and oh Farore I only had fourteen hours left, what was I doing, I had to go–

The bout of horror was gone as soon as it had arrived, and if Flayn had noticed, she didn’t comment on it or make any other signs of acknowledgement. “Look at the time.” I lied. “I have to, uh, go take care of something bye!”

I made haste to get out of there as quickly as possible, far away from Saint Cethleann. I couldn’t let her get onto me. Then the only option would be to claw my way out. There was another reason, of course; I could feel the Salesman’s– no, Caiaphas’s eyes on me. He hadn’t left that stall of his since last we spoke. Suffice to say I wanted to put as much distance between me and him as possible. And the sooner I could get him out , the better.

That being said, it was going to be exceedingly difficult to get him that mask and be done with it. Its placement in Zanado was particularly problematic– the Church forbade casual pilgrimages to the Red Canyon, and I doubted the explanation of ‘well, the skinny man with the creepy smile lost custody of his mask, and…’ was going to convince them to make an exception. Besides, from what Katáktisi had told ‘Tomas’, it was a trap specifically designed to remove me from the equation. I would need to be completely prepared, and probably bring backup of some kind. That would most likely be its own ordeal. I would have to be content with merely laying the groundwork for an eventual sojourn back to the forbidden city for now. It wasn’t so bad; I had almost a whole year to do so, after all.

~~~

The weeks passed me by, blending into each other. I had long since fallen into a routine at Garreg Mach. Actually, it was more like I had been dragged kicking and screaming into a routine. I had staved off any sense of normalcy out of paranoia that I would be somehow discovered by the Nabateans. If I wanted to remain hidden in plain sight, I would need to keep my guard up at all times. But the easy monotony of life at the monastery was starting to get to me.

Rumor had it that one of the western Faerghusian lords had marshaled an army and was marching on the monastery. That couldn’t possibly be good, although Katáktisi wasn’t particularly against the attack from an ideological standpoint. Catherine was to be deployed with a handful of the Knights of Seiros to quell the insurrection, alongside Professor Eisner’s students for some reason. I understood getting field experience, but after being sent to deal with the ruffians at the Red Canyon, this was a bit much.

It would seem that the archbishop is biased towards the professor, Katáktisi noted.

It’s just as likely that she’s biased towards Dimitri, by that logic. Or any member of the Blue Lions.

If the so-called timeloop ever pushes us back to before said professor makes her choice, you will watch as Seiros bends over backwards to give that house all the work.

I made a face. Don’t say things like that. You’ll make it come true.

There hadn’t been any other instances of rewinding time outside of me falling down the stairs at the start of the Great Tree Moon. I wasn’t complaining, to be sure, but it wasn’t great for me either. It just made me paranoid.

Well, more paranoid than I already was, anyway.

~~~

By all that the Golden Goddesses had deemed holy, I hated everything right now.

‘Tomas’ was out on a trip to the Empire. He apparently needed to grab some dusty old books from ancient times, before the foundation of the Alliance. I guess that made sense, since he was a librarian. But it left me all alone in this damnable library. 

And I couldn’t reach the accursed shelf.

It was right there. I knew that if I were an adult, I would be able to grab the book of my desires with total ease. But I was stuck with these ungodly short baby arms, a limited reach that I imagined I would never get used to. The object of my hatred was a small tome on the workings of magic. It was a bit more advanced than Introduction to Magic, so hopefully it would tell me more about how it worked. If I were to ever face mages in battle, it would be important to know what made them tic.

There weren’t any convenient items that I could use as a step stool in my vicinity. I couldn’t exactly climb up the bookshelf– it was freestanding, so my weight would probably pull it over. That would be a hassle and a half to clean up. So here I was, struggling to do something I should have been able to do with ease.

I’d felt this way, or at least similarly, when I had first left the Temple of Time. I’d felt like a glove, a glove that had been woven for a child, now being stretched over the hand of a giant. I’d felt stretched, too long and too wide by both a kilometer and a hair at the same time. Now it was the opposite– the glove had been given back to that kid for whom it was made, but it was still pulled taut, and now it hung loose. Now everything was too loose, too thin and reedy to fit. The glove’s proportions were annihilated, and they would never return. Not truly.

My eyes scanned the isolated corner of the library. There was no one around. I was in the clear. It was high time I made the decision that could not be undone. My off hand strayed into my pouch, left hand still vainly trying to reach the stupid book. I could feel my fingers curling around–

“Good afternoon, Link,” someone said.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, arms jolting away from where they were. “Ah! Don’t scare me like that!” I whirled on the voice, quickly identifying its owner as Ashe from the Blue Lions.

“Sorry if I startled you! Do you need help?”

“For the love of–” I muttered, turning back to the book while grasping at the open air. “No, I can definitely reach it, it’s right there–”

Ashe casually walked over and grabbed the book. “Here. This seems a lot easier, right?”

I spat a low curse in the ancient language, the sound not traveling past my ears. “I hate temporal dysphoria…”

“ Watch your tongue,” Katáktisi castigated. It was pointedly ignored.

“Thanks, Ashe,” I finished lamely.

“It’s no problem. Honestly, I’m surprised to see you here. Nobody ever comes to this part of the library, except Tomas and Seteth sometimes. Plus, you always struck me as more of the outdoorsy type.”

“It’s nice and quiet here. It’s easy to focus,” I explained. “And I like the feeling of the sun on my skin and the wind in my hair as much as the next guy, but sometimes a change of pace is nice. Plus, with how humid this summer’s been…” I shrugged. It was very humid further south; at least Fhirdiad was crisp year-round. My hair was definitely going to get frizzy if this kept on.

Ashe nodded. “I agree.” He cracked open his book– a text that clearly had been shown much love, if the worn cover was anything to go by.

“What are you reading? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The gray-haired boy’s eyes lit up. “ Loog and the Maiden of Wind. It’s very important to me.”

That sounded dreadfully boring. Also, what kind of stupid name was ‘Loog’? It sounded like someone was mispronouncing ‘look’. At least ‘Link’ not only meant something, but was more ergonomic. Whatever ergonomic meant. “What’s it about?”

“Loog, the King of Lions, and his sworn knight Kyphon were historical figures who won Faerghus’ independence from the Empire! It’s one of my all-time favorites! You see…”

Ashe launched into a lengthy diatribe about how powerful and chivalrous Loog and Kyphon were, and how insurmountable their odds of victory were against the Empire. I more or less tuned him out.

“Sounds interesting,” I lied through my teeth. “Where I’m from, we didn’t really have books.” Well, that wasn’t exactly right. Hyrule had had books, but I had never had the opportunity to read them. On top of that, I had never had enough time in Termina to appreciate its literature. It was certainly true for the Kokiri, though. “Our stories were passed down orally. Maybe I’ll have to give this ‘ Loog and the Maiden of Wind’ of yours a try.”

A wide grin crosses Ashe’s face. The boy probably needed it– if it really was his adoptive dad that was leading the rebellion up in western Faerghus like I’d heard, Ashe needed a distraction more than ever. “That sounds lovely! I could check a copy out of the library for you once Tomas gets back from Ochs. In return, maybe you could tell me some of your stories sometime?”

“That sounds nice,” I agreed, before realizing exactly what we had agreed to. Shoot. Well, I couldn’t take it back now…

~~~

“You seem distant,” I said.

Catherine turned from the freshly pulverized dummy. “It’s hard not to be.”

“Why?”

“You know about what happened to Lord Lonato,” she said. It was not a question; I had heard the outcome of last month’s mission from Dimitri himself. Lonato had raised a militia from the local peasants and had marched on Garreg Mach… the Blue Lions had put it down along with him. “On his person, we found a message from the Western Church. It contained a plan to assassinate Lady Rhea.”

“Well then,” I said. A plot to kill the archbishop? “That seems incredibly ill-advised.”

“Perhaps, but we will have to be on high alert for the whole moon, including before and after the Rite of Rebirth.” 

They do not intend to kill Seiros, Katáktisi noted.

How do you know? I asked. Killing Seiros is, like, your thing. Your modus operandi.

It is. No human, or collection of humans, could achieve such a thing. My power is her end. Anything else is suicide.

People are pretty dumb.

People also have a visceral fear of death. The missive the Church received is nothing but subterfuge.

I rolled with it. “That sounds like a real threat. Is there anything I can do to–”

“It’s alright,” Thunder Catherine assured, shaking her head. “The Knights are going to have the cathedral on lockdown. You should ask one of the professors. The houses are in charge of guarding the other sectors of the monastery.”

“Will do,” I replied. “Say, that dummy’s not looking so hot. Mind if I sub in?”

“I certainly do,” Catherine definitely didn’t say. Before I had time to place the progenitor of the interruption, I was being roughly shoved aside. I managed to stay on my feet, narrowly avoiding making facial contact with the rough stone of the training grounds.

Felix Hugo Fraldarius. The nerve!

“What the hell, Felix,” the Knight of Seiros demanded.

“I’ve waited too long to test your steel,” he drawled. “I’m not going to let some kid too small for his britches take this chance away from me.”

“It’s fine,” I assured Catherine. “I have some other things that I need to get done anyway. Maybe we can pick this up later?”

~~~

Cyril was no Thunder Catherine, but he would do.

I had been half-recruited and half-strongarmed into helping with Cyril’s training by Shamir. His axe skills were very solid, but his bow prowess needed a bit of work. I had offered to help, and now here I was.

“Just don’t kill each other,” the ex-merc ordered in that flat way of hers. “Barring that, treat this like real combat.”

I brandished my own bow, preemptively fingering an arrow from deep within my pouch. With a whisper of magic, frigid malice coated the tip as I nocked it. I didn’t want to freeze him solid– I had been the victim of ice magic at the hands of Hyrule’s Twinrova a handful of times, and it wasn’t a fate I’d wish upon anyone. But I figured if I could freeze Cyril’s boots, I could hinder his mobility easily enough.

Cyril nimbly dodged out of the way in the nick of time, responding with his own arrow. I ducked under it, letting it sail harmlessly past. A cry of confusion distracted me– I looked past Cyril for a moment to see Caspar von Bergliez of the Black Eagle house, staring dumbfounded at a freshly ice-coated training dummy. “My bad!” I hollered, but the momentary lapse was enough for Cyril to land an arrow squarely in my right shoulder. I couldn’t let that go unanswered, so I rapidly closed the distance, drawing my gilded sword from its place in my pouch with my right hand. Cyril, in response, dropped his bow and readied his axe.

It was exactly the opening I was looking for.

Quick as a flash, I locked weapons with Cyril. Out of everyone I had ever fought in Fodra, his physical strength was most likely the closest to my own. But what I lacked in bulk, I made up for in ingenuity, tactics, and an unforeshadowed arsenal of ridiculously powerful, unregulated weapons of mass destruction. My opponent was quickly overpowering me, given that I was using my sword in my right hand and Cyril had both of his hands on the handle of his weapon compared to my one.

I gave up all resistance, throwing my bow straight up into the air and dropping my sword entirely–

And I caught it with my left hand, which was now waiting in anticipation.

With a new bout of strength, I managed to shove the Almyran’s axe away from its precarious position. Momentarily shaken, Cyril rallied himself and managed to slam his fist into my left bicep. He immediately followed up with a barrage of punches, and while I pulled my Mirror Shield out of my pouch to block most of them, a small number still got past my guard.

Instinct told me the moment was arriving. I dropped my sword, reached up with my left hand, and seized the bow that was now plummeting out of the sky. When I had taken out my shield, I had also brought a single arrow along for the ride. Now that arrow was nocked, tongues of flame dancing around the head, primed to fire mere inches from Cyril’s head.

“Let’s call it there,” Shamir interrupted. “Link. You’re only going to get so much out of shock value.”

“That was not ‘shock value’!” I argued, loosening the bowstring. “I was just pressing the advantage I knew I had!”

“Once you use an advantage, it’s gone. Almost none of whatever that was is going to work in a real fight. Don’t get complacent– your tricks aren’t going to last forever.”

I guessed that was fair. I was still far more suited to one-on-one combat scenarios. “Yes, Shamir.”

She started to criticize Cyril, and I started to tune her out. I was eventually dismissed, but on my way out of the training grounds, a flash of white caught my eye. I paused and glanced down to see what looked like a misplaced handkerchief. I could probably drop it in the Officer’s Academy’s Lost and Found. I picked it up, and was repulsed by its sogginess.

Do. Not. Breathe, Katáktisi ordered. The cloth is laced with a chemical depressant. Inhale but a breath, and unconsciousness will be your only reward. Perhaps even death, given your… stature.

Blegh. I tried my best not to be insulted. Why is it here?

How the hells should I know? It most likely belongs to the Empress’ steward. The one that looks like a giant human bat.

Oh. Hubert, I surmised. His room was on the second story, because he was of House Vestra and the second floor was where all the noble kids slept. Nothing to do but return it.

~~~

Well, this was the place. I knocked on the door. There was no response. Unfortunate, but I would simply have to–

“I must admit, most people who come to my door do not do so willingly.”

I whirled on my feet to see the object of my search, Hubert von Vestra himself. I could all but see his calculations in his eyes, sizing me up and ultimately deeming me not a threat. Oh, the minor joys of being a child. More like joy– singular.

“Hey, it’s exactly the guy I want to see!” I said, overly cheery to try and lean into the ‘idiot child’ angle as much as possible. “Someone left this handkerchief full of drugs at the training grounds, and I was fairly certain it was yours, so–”

“You’re more observant than I gave you credit for,” Hubert admitted, taking the proffered cloth. “Not saying much, of course.”

“Uh huh.” My expression tightened despite myself.

“My goodness, did I say that out loud?” the Black Eagles student all but mocked. “It appears that my tongue is the one with more maturing to do.”

I processed the words that left his sniveling mouth.

“I hate you.”

“That’s normal.” Then Hubert laughed– a low, menacing chuckle that would have scared the shorts right off my legs had it not been missing one critical element.

“Your evil laugh needs more in the way of… how should I put this… ‘manic energy’,” I suggested. “You need to sound like you’ve just lost your mind and you’re about to do something absolutely insane. Nothing scares people more like the unknown, and the uncertainty of what you’ll do when you’re done cackling will only amplify that. Case in point– you no longer have any idea what to make of me after this monologue. It’s the same principle.”

“It’s clear that you’ve put a disproportionately large amount of thought into this,” Hubert commented. “Although if my sole aim was to keep you away from my dormitory… well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Because I’d be dead?”

“I see you have the grasp of it.”

“Understandable. In the future, I’ll try to meet you away from this location. Preferably within line of sight of multiple witnesses.” I thought it was fairly clear that both of us were joking on at least some level, and I was certain that we weren’t being serious. Which were two very different things.

~~~

Whatever I had been expecting today, half of the Golden Deer House carrying a mattress towards the fishing pond at the crack of dawn was certainly not it. Didn’t they have more important business to be doing at this hour? I could think of a couple of things, most of which happened to be named Remire.

“Shhh. It’s a prank. You know what a prank is, right? Watch this,” was Claude’s only response. A dash of morbid curiosity overcoming my sense of suspicion, I allowed them to go on their way. I observed the whole house– well, actually not the whole house; Lorenz, Ignatz, Marianne, and Lysithea were suspiciously absent– giggling like Saria as they gently placed the mattress in the pond. I was surprised that it was able to float, especially considering the fact that Knight-Captain Alois was fast asleep on top of it. The bed drifted deeper into the little lake, with the mustachioed man making no signs of having awoken.

At least the part of me that still vainly thought it was a child was getting a kick out of it.

“Why did you think I didn’t know what a prank was?” I asked.

“You act so serious all the time, y’know,” Hilda shrugged. “Like your only experience with comedy was some Alois-tier jape.”

“A: that doesn’t mean I’m not familiar with the concept,” I argued, “and two: is this really the most productive usage of your time?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Raphael frowned. “Don’t worry, Alois! I’ll come and bring you right back!”

“And there he goes,” Leonie drawled, her observation punctuated by a gargantuan splash.

“Whose brilliant idea was this?”

“Claude’s!” Hilda exclaimed, immediately pointing a painted nail directly at the house leader.

“Hey, in our defense– it was funny,” Claude defended. “See?” He tilted his head towards the lake, where a figure rose from the mattress.

“What in blazes is the meaning of–” Alois started, before Raphael’s massive body grabbed onto the impromptu raft and promptly capsized it, throwing the older man into the icy water. The three Deer who weren’t currently swimming burst out into raucous laughter. I wished they weren’t there– the Zora Mask would make short work of this particular problem. Actually, I hadn’t ever tried to use the transformation masks in Fodra– excluding Katáktisi, of course. I would have to make a note of trying them on at a later date.

“Y’know,” I said, idly inspecting my fingernails, “it’d be a real shame if somehow, Seteth found out about this…”

“Are you seriously trying to blackmail me ?” Claude exclaimed, faux hurt. “Link, I thought we were friends.”

“Just making an observation,” I commented. “Y’know, I heard he likes to fish early in the morning. And if he sees the mattress…” I tossed a hand towards the still partially submerged Raphael and Alois. “Well, I can think of a particular quartet who would be in for a long lecture. And at least seven disapproving facial expressions. If I were you?” I paused for dramatic effect. “I’d get swimming.”

“But I already spent half an hour doing my makeup!” Hilda pouted. “Link, could you do it? We’d really appreciate it if you could spare us Seteth’s wrath… he’s so scary!”

“You’re such a drama queen, Hilda,” Leonie drawled. “We’ll just catch the mattress with a fishing rod, and…”

Rangeld and Kirsten finally stepped onto shore– soaked, shivering, and laughing their lungs out.

~~~

“Link, right?”

I looked up from the stall, surprised that Professor Eisner knew my name. “You know my name, professor?”

“Dimitri mentioned it, and I’ve seen you around the monastery. You never really talked to me, though, so my curiosity was piqued.” She stood perfectly in the doorway, almost oppressive in her demeanor and her control of the space. Had I not already been subjected to horrors beyond imagination, I might have been cowed. Maybe. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same to you.” I kept distributing feed in silence. “Is that all?”

“Well, there is something I could use help with,” Byleth stated, that smile on her face again. It wasn’t a real smile, though; it was like if someone who had never felt even basic contentment before had been told what a smile was and this was their first attempt at reconstructing it. Aside from emptiness, that was the only expression I’d ever seen her wear. “My house was instructed to guard the monastery during the Rite of Rebirth, and frankly we could use as many hands on deck as we can. Would you be interested in giving us a hand?”

“You had me at ‘something I could use help with’,” I said, patting the horse’s head as I looked away. “The Rite is on the twenty-sixth, right? And today’s the day before Flayn’s birthday, which means it’s the eleventh–”

Byleth blinked. “Tomorrow is Saint Cethleann Day. I wasn’t aware that it was Flayn’s birthday as well. I’ll have to buy flowers.”

They could not have made it more obvious, Katáktisi said, aghast.

Made– I thought about it. If Flayn was Cethleann, putting her holiday on her birthday was not very smart if she wanted to keep her identity a secret. Hopefully it wasn’t the same for the other Nabateans. Oh my god.

“Put my name on it too,” I said. “I’ll pitch in a couple of coins. And if you need anything else in the meantime, I’ll be happy to assist in any way I can.”

~~~

The time had come. At long last.

The Goddess’ Rite of Rebirth was going on in the cathedral. Most of the Knights were on guard up there, as was Cyril. And here I was, weapon drawn alongside the rest of the Blue Lion house, in the deepest recesses of the Holy Tomb.

And there were, like thirty Western Church guys just kind of hanging out. Well, at least we were doing better than just guarding a coffin.

“It is as we suspected,” Dimitri commented. “The enemy is within.”

“Those Central Church dastards have spotted us…” a masked mage muttered from across the room, his words only rendered audible by my superior Hylian hearing. “Buy me some time while I open the seal on the casket!” So they were… graverobbing?”

No, Katáktisi commented. That is not a grave.

Then what is it? It’s called the Holy Mausoleum, and he referred to it as a casket.

It supposedly belongs to Saint Seiros. Well, that would explain it. It would hardly be a tomb if the person it supposedly contained was alive and running the Church. Let the masked one escape. Show the others no mercy.

Slaughter the mooks, but spare the commander? That doesn’t make sense–

Better for the Sword of the Creator to leave the Church’ hands, no?

That was fair. 

“I’m on it,” a nearby Western Church fighter commented.

I drew my Gilded Sword and Mirror Shield, and–

And I locked eyes with the ghastly visage of Death itself. It was on a black horse, red eyes glowing from beneath its skull-shaped visor, its armor all red and black and spiky. In its hands was a great scythe, glowing with some violent violet energy.

“The enemy is after the casket of Saint Seiros,” Dimitri realized. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Seiros was upstairs performing the Rite of Rebirth. “Do they intend to steal her bones? But look closely at the ground… there are contraptions of some sort in place. We’ll have to look closely at the enemies’ weapons and advance while attacking from the best positions possible.”

“Game plan is simple:” the professor announced. “Split into two teams and go around the spiky armor guy. Stop that mage before he gets away. Got it?”

“It would be a lot faster if we concentrated all our forces in the center and drove straight over the spiky armor guy with our entire weight,” I countered despite myself. “He’s not just going to stand there and let us flank him.”

Byleth looked at me without any emotion whatsoever. I would understand if she was mad that I was calling her out for her incredibly stupid plan, but she was just… flat. “Link. We’re doing it this way. If he decides to attack us, we’ll deal with it.”

“But–” I sighed. “Alright.”

And we moved.

Byleth, Dimitri, myself, Annette, and Ashe quickly darted into action on the left side, while Mercedes, Sylvain, Ingrid, Felix, and Dedue took the right. There weren’t any enemies in the corner, so we actually stayed together in the main corridor, beelining for the two mages that were in effective range. I wasn’t able to get there particularly quickly on account of my short legs, but I got to watch as the professor almost decapitated the poor guy, leaving Ashe to pick him off. I wheeled on the second guy to see that Ingrid and Sylvain already had him covered, and Mercedes was stitching them up with some healing magic. I had actually picked up a healing spell during my time in Garreg Mach– I had never actually used it on a real injury, but now was as good a time as any to test it. Of course, it was rendered moot now.

“Death Knight! Prove your strength and scatter these fools!”

“I don’t take commands…” Spiky Armor Man snarled. “And I don’t waste time with weaklings.” He must have been the ‘Death Knight’. Even though he fit the bill for it, it was a very uncreative name.

I like him, Katáktisi commented.

“That knight looks like he has experience,” Dimitri observed. “It would be foolish to challenge him recklessly.” Byleth looked at me with that same deadpan expression as always, but the fact that she even spared me an extra glance told me whatshe was thinking– that she had just won some argument of supreme import. I rolled my eyes exasperatedly, darting forward and further to the left into the toothy embrace of an enemy fighter.

“What the–” he said, clearly surprised that a twelve-year-old was currently armed and trying to murder him. Granted, it wasn’t exactly a common occurrence, but I was so tired of being treated like a child in any way, shape, or form that I didn’t bother to think about it from his perspective.

I wasted no time. I punched him in the very easy-to-reach groin and kneed him in the face as he instinctively curled over, successfully knocking him onto his back. From there, all it took was a clean jumping stab directly to the heart, and he was done.

I hesitated, despite the fact that the act was already done. This was the third person I had ever killed– well, fourth if I included that one time I blew up Sakon with his stolen bombs by shooting him with an arrow instead of just punching him. It felt… horrible. In fact, if it weren’t for Katáktisi screaming at me to stand up and fight, I wouldn’t have noticed the enemy wizard charging a fire spell. I managed to get my Mirror Shield in hand and in the way, interposing it with myself. The magical flame bounced harmlessly off of the silvered surface, careening off towards the roof of the mausoleum. The deflection gave me just enough time to run up and slash him. He prepared another spell, but a sharp blast of wind promptly nipped that in the bud.

“Thanks, Annette,” I said.

“No problem!” she replied with far too much cheer than was warranted in the situation, not even noticing Byleth stab a guy two meters behind her. Dimitri was currently locked in brutal close-quarters combat with two swordfighters. I rushed to help, but not before being distracted by another guy who was all up in Ashe’s face. I hit him with an Ice Arrow, allowing the gray-haired boy to finish him off, before continuing my dogged sprint. As it turned out, my presence was entirely unnecessary, because Dimitri just grabbed both of their heads and whacked them against each other so hard that they both immediately collapsed like ragdolls. He was sporting some nasty-looking cuts on his chest, though, soiling his clothes with blood.

“Let me get that,” I assured, remembering the technique that was in the books of Introduction to Magic . With great effort, some of the skin began to close up. It would do, for now.

“I didn’t know you were versed in healing techniques,” the crown prince commented.

“Picked it up while I was away,” I explained. “Figured if I can’t get to combat quickly enough, I can still be useful.”

Suddenly Dimitri pushed me out of the way, and I realized with sudden alacrity that another wizard had appeared and was slinging a firebolt. Coiling as much energy into my body as possible, I sprung forward and batted the spell away with my Mirror Shield. It careened towards my right–

And smacked the Death Knight.

He didn’t even flinch.

That dark mask made eye contact with me specifically. I could feel its hunger. It wasn’t like Majora– that much was for sure, at least. But this… thing was dangerous, there was no doubt about it. And I had successfully disturbed the beehive.

“I told you that if you fled, I would not chase you…” it said, the metal mask reverberating its voice into something alien. “But it seems you wish to die…”

At once, it was upon me, its scythe swinging with bloodlust in its nonexistent crimson eyes. It was only a warning from Katáktisi that enabled me to dodge quickly enough. The strike slammed into the ground, sending sinuous cracks throughout the floor. The only way out was through.

I shot a Light Arrow directly into its eyes, successfully harming it but not blinding it like I wanted it to. The attack only seemed to enrage the Death Knight, whose swings came out even faster in response. I ducked under the first one, tried to get in close with a powerful chop but was nearly struck by the second slash, and was forced to block the third swipe with my Mirror Shield. The shield held, but I could hear the sickening crunch that accompanied the sound of my right arm breaking into pieces. That felt like a compound fracture and a half. No time to worry about that now, and if I tried to heal myself, I’d be dead meat. At least it wasn’t my sword arm.

I had one choice. I couldn’t take another hit like that– it would surely kill me if my ability to defend myself was hampered any further. I used Din’s Fire to force the Death Knight away temporarily. It fortunately seemed to pierce the enemy’s metal exoskeleton. I could feel the advent of another problem, though– I was running out of mana. I only had one, maybe two good spells left in me. And my adversary was galloping forth, its scythe already swinging in a brutal arc.

It was time to use my last resort. I used all but the last drops of magic left in my compressed body to cast Nayru’s Love, allowing its defensive barrier to eat the hits for me. If the Death Knight was confused, it did an excellent job of hiding it, continuing its assault with wild abandon. Unlike last time, the scythe did nothing more than scrape me. I was able to get in close with my comically short Gilded Sword. I knew I wouldn’t be able to pierce its armor, but hopefully I could rattle the Death Knight around enough to disorient it to a point where it wouldn’t be able to retaliate effectively. The Great Fairy’s Sword would have done better, but I couldn’t operate it one-handed. Hopefully the rest of the house could do something… anything.

 Just as I narrowly avoided another blow, I swung my blade in a brutal jumping slash with a defiant shout. If I wanted to get out of here alive, I would have to press my invincible advantage as far as I could. The Death Knight just barely managed to put his own weapon in front of mine, and I could see a Crest flash as it channeled all its strength into resisting my own attack. In my frenzied attack, I couldn’t identify which one it was. 

I backed off before it could respond, immediately switching to my Hookshot and latching onto one of the rafters where it couldn’t hope to touch me. With no hesitation, I fired a quick arrow directly to its midsection before descending from my position swordfirst. The Death Knight managed to shove me away before driving me backwards with a flurry of blows. I absorbed an overhead strike, feeling it crunch against Nayru’s Love before retaliating with a Deku Nut, disorientating the cavalier for just long enough to slip beneath another slash. I promptly threw myself at the Death Knight, punching it with all my might in the chest. Its armor blocked the blow, giving it the perfect opportunity to grab my leg before throwing me to the ground headfirst. Without my blessed diamond shield, I would be putty on the floor. I quickly got to my feet. Where was everyone?! I processed that it had probably only been thirty seconds or so. With other threats of death, they were probably a little busy. Or perhaps they thought I had it under control?

My breaths were haggard as I tightened my grip on my sword. I could hear the roaring of blood in my ears, pierced on occasion by the high whine of Nayru’s Love. The Death Knight looked worse for wear, sure, but it looked better than I felt. Even with all of that whaling on this goddesses-forsaken cavalier, it still.

Just.

Wouldn’t.

Die.

Let me at him, my upstairs neighbor ordered.

What the– no! I argued, sliding underneath the horse and hacking at its exposed underbelly. I wasn’t able to do much, what with its legs being all over the place, but it was a fairly good idea in the moment. With everyone here? The Nabateans would find out for sure.

Katáktisi did not argue with that line of logic. I rolled out from underneath the creature and fired off a Fire Arrow. The Death Knight was forced backwards, giving me just enough time to use the last dregs of my mana to use Heal on myself. I rolled my right shoulder– my arm was still killing me, but I could use it and that was enough. I had to be fast– the longer this dragged out, the greater chance someone else would get hurt. I couldn’t allow that. I drew the Great Fairy’s Sword and charged, bringing it down the knight’s head–

Nayru’s Love wore out.

“ Squirm for me!”

And my momentum stopped dead.

I had landed my strike, more or less. The Great Fairy’s sword was confidently lodged in the Death Knight’s head spikes. Issue was, the Death Knight’s attack had also landed. The tip of its scythe was currently protruding from the small of my back. Well. This was a disappointment.

Seriously?

It was kind of… out of my… control… I forced myself to think, mind addled by the numbness in my midsection. This was it. It was almost impossible to breathe, as blood quickly pooled in my lungs. All I felt was numbness in my chest, although it was quickly giving way to sharp, unadulterated pain.

Well, Solon will be pleased, at the very least.

I wasn’t in a proper mind to listen to my upstairs neighbor at present. I let out a shuddering sigh, and despite all my efforts I could not suck in another breath. Everything sounded muffled, like I was at the bottom of Lake Hylia. My mind fluttered to Ikana, to the realm of the dead that I was about to join. To die without a trace… that was the way of the Garo.

I was about to take a page out of their book.

With the last of my strength, as the weapon slithered out of my stomach, I shoved my hand into my pouch. The last thing I heard was a muted hiss, followed by that cacophonous sound of an explosive going off at point blank.

~~~

The time had come. At long last.

The Goddess’ Rite of Rebirth was going on in the cathedral. Most of the Knights were on guard up there, as was Cyril. And here I was, weapon drawn alongside the rest of the Blue Lion house, in the deepest recesses of the Holy Tomb.

And there were, like fifty Western Church guys just kind of hanging out. Well, at least we were doing better than just guarding a coffin.

“It is as we suspected,” Dimitri commented. “The enemy is within.”

“Those Central Church dastards have spotted us…” a masked mage muttered from across the room, his words only rendered audible by my superior Hylian hearing. “Buy me some time while I open the seal on the casket!” So they were… graverobbing?

A horrible bout of nausea wracked my small frame. Immediately, the memory of my past life– and subsequent death– rolled me over like a raging wyvern. Somewhat panicked, I subtly checked my torso for an impact site. It was as though it had never happened. Which made sense. It hadn’t happened.

The timeloop… just activated?

Did it now?

I know it did. I’m not crazy. I died. But why did it go back?

“I’m on it,” a nearby Western Church soldier said. The Death Knight was still there, in the middle of the room.

“The enemy is after the casket of Saint Seiros,” Dimitri realized. I still didn’t have the heart to tell him that Seiros was upstairs performing the Rite of Rebirth. “Do they intend to steal her bones? But look closely at the ground… there are contraptions of some sort in place. We’ll have to look closely at the enemies’ weapons and advance while attacking from the best positions possible.”

“Game plan is simple:” the professor announced. “Stick together as much as possible. If we engage the Death Knight, we do it together. Then we stop that mage before he gets away. Got it?” I was confounded. I hadn’t done anything different so far than I had in the last loop. Why had Byleth’s plan changed?

Unless she remembered, too.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I countered despite myself. I couldn’t risk anyone being hurt the way that I was. I couldn’t live with that. “That Death Knight looks… really strong. I’m not sure we can take him down.”

Byleth looked at me without any emotion whatsoever. She almost seemed confused. “Link. We’re doing it this way. We’ll deal with it– I know we will.”

“But–” I sighed. I would need to have faith. For once. “Alright.”

And we moved.

The ten of us more or less formed a wall down the central corridor, making quick work of the two casters that were there. I still couldn’t reach quite fast enough, but I got to quickly patch up Felix while Mercedes was otherwise occupied.

“Thanks,” he growled, very obviously unthankful.

“No worries,” I replied cheerily enough by channeling my inner Annette, smiting an approaching enemy swordsman with a well-timed blast of Din’s Fire. A surge of momentum passed through me, as Katáktisi roared in approval.

“Death Knight! Prove your strength and scatter these fools!”

“I don’t take commands…” the aforementioned Knight of Death snarled. “And I don’t waste time with weaklings.” 

“That knight looks like he has experience,” Dimitri observed. “It would be foolish to challenge him recklessly.” No kidding.

I soon found myself side by side with Ashe– well, slightly in front of him, really. We were taking care of the right flank, isolating the Death Knight so that there wouldn’t be any other riffraff to worry about while we dealt with him. In order to prevent enemies from getting too close to the archer, I had to stay in front and engage with melee. My short stature gave Ashe plenty of room to fire off shots and assist. There was a perk, at least.

A mage cast a fireball at me. I wasn’t going to repeat the mistake from last time. I still reflected it with the Mirror Shield, but I made additional effort to point it directly back at the caster. From there, it was as simple as lunging forward and cutting him down with a flurry of a thousand papercuts. I realized pretty quickly that I had just leapt headfirst into two warriors, so I quickly retreated into Dedue’s sphere of influence. The Duscurian’s presence seemed to inflame them, probably because of what had happened in Duscur four years ago, so they were more than happy to attack him as opposed to me. What they weren’t expecting was for the crown prince himself to have Dedue’s back, gutting them before they could so much as scratch the larger man.

There was a momentary pause. Somehow, we had eradicated the entire force, excluding the wizard prying open the coffin and the Death Knight. We rallied in the center of the tomb. Vaguely, I heard something about reinforcements? For us or for them? There weren’t exactly many of them left.

The Death Knight was still staring us down, unmoving since the start of the altercation. But without anyone else to distract us– save the man in the back who Katáktisi didn’t mind allowing to escape– it was time to begin the fight on our terms.

We formed a wedge– a triangle of meat and weaponry bent on punching through the Death Knight’s defense. Byleth was in front, flanked by Dedue and Felix. Sylvain, Annette, and Dimitri followed them, while Ingrid, Ashe, Mercedes, and myself made up the rear. We would need to smash through the initial onslaught with those of us who could take a hit, then flank around and cut him into little red ribbons. As long as nobody died, everything would be just fine.

“Like moths to a flame…” the Death Knight growled.

“Oh my, how frightening!” Mercedes exclaimed. “Won’t you please go easy on us?”

“You…” the masked marauder said. “Was this meeting… preordained?” That was odd. But whatever hesitation had consumed the mounted knight, it was gone in an instant as he and his steed lunged. Byleth rose to meet him, deflecting and dodging and counterattacking in a dalliance of technique that I couldn’t help but watch. This was what an expert was capable of. When the time came, I would surpass it. That fact was as clear to me as the rise of the morning sun.

The triangle formation flattened as we surrounded the Death Knight, severely hampering its ability to maneuver. I switched to my bow, permitting the other students to get in melee range. When the knight tried to turn to focus down any given attacker, two more strikes would land. It was only a matter of time. It could have killed any one of us with some level of ease, but with all ten of us supporting each other and mutually distracting it… it hardly had the opportunity to fight back. Why couldn’t it have gone this smoothly last time?

“I didn’t expect to encounter someone like you…” it snarled, focusing solely on Byleth. “How fortunate…”

In a flash of violet light, it was gone. It had access to teleportation magic?

“He got away,” Dimitri lamented. “We have no choice but to focus on that mage for–”

The swift tip-tap of feet on stone alerted us. The reinforcements had arrived.

“I’ll handle the wizard!” Byleth ordered, raising her bloodstained sword. “The rest of you, take care of the new arrivals!”

There was no talking back. The house descended upon them, adrenaline still running high from the death-defying encounter with the masked knight. To be honest, I was just happy I hadn’t been stabbed this time around. That was always nice.

“It’s no use! The seal is broken! You can’t–” I heard from the other side of the room. “Huh? A sword?”

I backflipped out of the way of a horizontal swing and allowed Felix to take the attacker down. I turned and focused on Byleth. She was staring with incredulity at a glowing red sword forged from the same sort of umbral steel as Catherine’s Thunderbrand, as was the mage beneath his crowlike hat, presumably.

The Sword of the Creator, Katáktisi exposited. The weapon wielded by Nemesis. Fascinating. What was it doing in the coffin of Seiros?

The two quickly got over their surprise, and after a small tussle, Byleth had killed him. No sooner than the man was felled, Thunder Catherine came charging down alongside a duo of Knights of Seiros.

“Is the intruder here?!” she demanded. Then her face broke out into a more relaxed smile. “Oh… looks like you have things under control. You– round up any stragglers.”

“Will do,” the Knight to her left replied. I put my sword back in its sheath, contemplative, as the last few insurgents were taken away. The fact of the matter was that if Byleth remembered the resets… well. That would be a problem.

~~~

“As all of you have committed a breach of faith, the archbishop will now pass judgement,” Seteth ordered.

“Inciting a Kingdom noble to rebel,” Shamir listed. “Unlawful entry. The attempted assassination of the Archbishop. An attack on the Holy Mausoleum. It is unnecessary to go on, followers of the Western Church.”

“What?!” one of the priests on trial demanded. “We have nothing to do with the Western Church!”

“You have already been identified,” Seteth stated. “Please spare us your second-rate theater.” That was cold. I had no choice but to begrudgingly respect it.

“Dishonoring a holy ceremony is worthy of death for a member of the church,” Rhea said flatly. “You are well past the hope of redemption. If you have any grace remaining, you will willingly offer your life as atonement for this crime.”

Do you see it? Their evil? Katáktisi asked.

I figured ruthlessness would be right up your alley, I replied.

It is different when they do it. A stranglehold on humanity is no noble cause. That seemed hypocritical, but I held my tongue.

“No! This isn’t what we were told would happen! We were deceived!”

“It’s no use arguing,” Shamir snarled, sweeping her hand dismissively. “Whatever your excuse, the punishment stands.”

“May your souls find peace as they return to the goddess…”

“Wait! Please! The goddess would never forgive you for our execution!”

“Monster! We know you’ve already slaughtered many of our fellow brethren like this!”

“This concludes the investigation,” Rhea said, her voice even. “Please remove these poor, lost souls from my sight.”

The Western Church people were marched off by armored Knights of Seiros, and the Blue Lion House remained silent, watching the horrid discourse play out.

~~~

“There you have it,” Dimitri said. We had relocated to the Blue Lions lecture hall for convenience’s sake. “It seems that the assassination attempt and the attack on the Holy Mausoleum were all the work of the Western Church. As for the masked knight who led the attack… I’m afraid his whereabouts are yet unknown.”

“It makes no sense that the Western Church would try such a thing,” said Dedue.

“It just goes to show that the Church of Seiros is not completely united. The Church is led by those here at Garreg Mach, and the Western Church doesn’t have a strong voice on its governing council.” So all this was spawned by people seeking power, and Nabateans who didn’t want to share it. Wonderful. “I imagine the Western Church has harbored some resentment towards the Central Church for some time now.” 

“The Western Church…” Byleth trailed, brows furrowed. She didn’t know what the Western Church was? Even I knew that, and I had only been on this continent for a year and a third.

“Ah, that’s right. Jeralt did say that you grew up outside the influence of the Church.”

Such a thing is possible? Katáktisi asked. I like this Jeralt character.

“The Church of Seiros is split into a few branches across Fódlan,” Dimitri explained. “The largest being the Central Church, which is headquartered right here at Garreg Mach. The Western Church lies far to the west of Castle Gaspard, where Lord Lonato held his rebellion. It’s situated on the far side of the Kingdom’s most impressive fortress, Arianrhod. I imagine the Western Church’s intention was to eliminate Lady Rhea, and the Central Church’s authority along with her. Naturally, the knights will be riding out to question the Western Church’s top officials. Or rather… to punish them.”

“When they do, Your Highness, we will likely be asked to help carry out said punishment,” Dedue observed.

“Indeed. Now, I don’t mean to be rude, Professor, but I must say your situation is rather unusual.” He coughed. “For someone to grow up in Fódlan and yet never have any contact with the Church of Seiros is… it’s hard to believe,” he clarified.

“I wonder why the archbishop would hire someone like that as a professor…”

“So…” Ashe interjected. “Those people from the Western Church were… um, Lady Rhea had them killed, didn’t she?”

“Well, of course she did,” Mercedes answered, which I found surprising. “Going against the teachings of Seiros like that. Quite unforgivable!”

“Those who stray must be punished, I supposed…” Ingrid contemplated. “That being said… Professor, I–”

Whatever the knight-to-be was going to say was cut off by Seteth. “There you are, Professor. It seems Lady Rhea would like to have a word with you. Come with me.”

I would have to speak with her about the timeloop on a later date.

I hope I did the Death Knight fight justice. I mean, all things considered Link fended for himself very well in spite of his godawful luck, or at least, he did until he ate a crit to the face at the worst possible time. Anyways, happy page 100!

Review please!

CuddlyManaki (AO3): Thank you very much!

DarthFlores (FF): I actually decided for the mystery mask to be in Zanado for Byleth’s paralogue– I noticed that they were the only character in the cast to not have a partner for their paralogue mission so I decided to slap Link on there to round it out. Suffice to say, though, I have  p l a n s for that that I think you’re all going to enjoy . Regarding Cyril, that’s an understandable perspective to have. As far as this fic is concerned, I’m going to be taking some liberties with his character by emphasizing the Cyril seen in his supports with Hilda, Lysithea, and Shamir as opposed to just being ‘Rhea’s errand boy’. I’m not planning for their relationship to be romantic, of course– they’re bros who have each other’s back and bicker a bit, but nothing more than that. Thank you for your continued support!

Louie Yang (FF): Yeah, I imagine pre-chapter 18 Dimitri would be quite angry if he learned about the Slitherers and Link’s connection to them. But I also think post-chapter 18 Dimitri would be more willing to hear him out, especially considering the post-timeskip plans I have going forward.

Laxard (FF): From the research I’ve done, Wyvern Lord is generally considered to be one of the best non-exclusive classes (i.e. not counting War Master, Gremory, Falcon Knight and Grappler). It has very strong Strength and Defense, plus it’s one of the only Master classes to get bonus Speed if my research is correct. It also has no weapon restrictions, so if you wanted to use a bow with it, there’s nothing stopping you. The general consensus from the community is that it’s one of the strongest master classes, so I leaned into that.

The reason Link doesn’t go back and save Monica is because a) he’s under the impression that she ran away, b) he’s not in control of the timeloop because he gave the Ocarina back to Zelda when he was last in Hyrule, c) he’s got work to do, d) [CONTENT EXPUNGED], and e) Byleth can’t loop back to before Sothis wakes up (during the night in the Forest where she saves Edelgard), which was after Monica went missing.

As I’ve said before, Closed Circuit is going to be loosely based on Azure Moon (emphasis on loosely), with several knots and twists thrown in there for good measure. My apologies for the broken Greek– I’m relying entirely on Google Translate because I don’t speak the language. I just felt that it would be kind of weird for the Agarthans to all use fluid English when Nemesis sure as heck doesn’t, and Greek fit well given their naming scheme. I’m trying to write Link as someone slowly working through their traumas and baggage, and it’s like walking a tightrope made of licorice surrounded by starving bears. Insofar as it’s wicked difficult. Maybe I’ve gone a little too bleak, but I, like Link, am working on it. Thanks for your reviews!

HiIExist (FF): I really like that idea in theory, but remember how I mentioned that Three Hopes came out after I started writing this? That might, uh, have created consequences that prevent that idea. Stay tuned. Love the idea, though! The reason he can’t charge into Zanado is because, as far as I’m aware, the Red Canyon is considered holy ground by the Church and nobody’s allowed to just wander in without express permission. I’m intending to horribly mutate the Byleth paralogue to suit those ends. Speaking of Byleth, thanks for pointing out that inconsistency! I’ve been trying to use Three Hopes Byleth as a baseline– taking things literally, delivering lines very flatly, etc. I will endeavor to further communicate this change in future chapters. Thank you so much for your continued support!

Lord_Ecramox (AO3): Thank you very much!

Chapter Text

Bababooey

Chapter X

“Good evening, Professor,” I said, easing open the door to Byleth’s office. Dusk was drawing close, and I wanted to get this out of the way as quickly as possible. She appraised me with a blank expression.

“Same to you. Speaking of, thank you for helping out in the Mausoleum.”

“Thank you. I just swung by because I wanted to commend you on your leadership and tactics during the fight,” I elaborated. “I would also like to apologize for questioning your strategy. I am… not accustomed to fighting alongside others.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” the mercenary stated.

I sighed, clasping my hands behind my head. “There’s a lot of things people wouldn’t guess about me. Like how old I am. So far, everyone who’s hazarded an estimate has been wildly wrong…” Normally I wouldn’t bring up my own age like this, but I had to make a point.

Byleth blinked. “I would have said you were eleven.”

I pretended to be shocked. “ Eleven? You wound me, Professor! I’ll have you know I’m at least twelve. Give or take a half. Maybe.”

“So you’re twelve.” Her cadence was completely unchanged.

“If that makes you feel correct, then sure. Joke’s on me, though– I don’t actually know my age, myself. Where I grew up, there weren’t really seasons, so a ‘year’ was the amount of time it took for a certain tree to grow another ring. I was twenty rings old when I left home for the first time. That made me… ten? Ish? After that, no idea.” Basically every word of that was a blatant lie, but…

“I think you’re just being difficult,” she droned, shaking her head.

“Well, obstinately, yes,” I confessed. “But that’s not all. Here, I’ll give you a hint.” I glanced over my shoulder, then took a step forward. My voice was hushed. “In a distant land, there exists a clan called the Garo. To die without a trace… that is their way. That was how I chose to die when I was impaled on the end of the Death Knight’s scythe. ” I let the words hang in the air. “But you… you turned back the hands of the metaphorical clock just to save me. I’m flattered, really.”

Byleth froze, mouth hanging open in silence as though she was frozen in time. I assumed it was shock. I stepped back, a coy grin on my features.

“I’m aware of your little timeloop,” I explained. “I don’t know how you do it, and I would be an idiot to begrudge you for it. Your secret is safe with me. Just… be careful, Professor. Playing god will only get you hurt. Take it from me. I would know.”

With that, I turned to exit the room, leaving the ex-mercenary to presumably panic internally over the situation. She was doing an excellent job of not showing it. She’d be fine. Probably.

“How did you–”

“Well, you just told me, for starters,” I said cheekily, my hand on the doorknob. “More importantly, your strategy changed between loops. Instead of hugging the flanks and avoiding the Death Knight, you elected to force our way through. And it worked. Fortunately. Let me tell you– I was not looking forward to being skewered like a rabbit again.”

I pushed the door open. “What do you say we keep this… ugliness to ourselves? If you speak nothing of it, I’ll do the same. No strings attached.”

I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. It felt good to be vindicated.

~~~

“Hey, Shamir? How do you think I’ve been doing with my bow lately?” Cyril was asking. “Think I’m getting pretty good? I hit closer to the bullseye today, and that felt real good.” I was waiting on the training grounds for Byleth and the Blue Lions to show up– I had volunteered to help run some group exercises. They were twelve seconds late– absolutely unforgivable, in my opinion. Nobody had any sense of timeliness in this Goddesses-forsaken place. Although, if they were perhaps hoping to start later to avoid the worst of the humidity, I could understand that. Hopefully said humidity would die down as the Blue Sea Moon gave way to the Verdant Rain Moon, a turnover that would happen in just two days.

“You were fine,” came the flat response.

“‘Fine’? That might be the nicest thing you ever said to me, Shamir.”

“You take too many direct shots, though.” I blinked in slight surprise. I had only ever shot directly straight and it had worked out just fine for me. Then again, I always had Navi or Tatl to do the targeting for me. And I hadn’t shot anyone over exceedingly long distances in a long time.

“But it’s easier if you shoot straight,” Cyril argued, echoing my thoughts exactly.

“Of course it is. But if you can hit your enemy with a straight shot, you’re too close. Tell me, Cyril– what’s an archer’s greatest weakness?” Surely it was the time it took to nock an arrow and fire it?

“Ummm… when we get too close to the enemy and we can’t shoot the way we’re supposed to?” Oh. That was completely different. I had never had that problem. I guess that meant I was just intrinsically better.

Obviously, Katáktisi commented.

I was being sarcastic.

“Exactly. As an archer, your position is critical. Know exactly how far the enemy is and keep a minimum safe distance. Understood?”

“You mean to stay away from the enemies but not too far away that my arrows can’t hit them.”

“So you understand why you can’t rely on straight shots,” Shamir nodded. “You have to use curved shots as well. Never run up to your target. Hit them from a safe range– shoot ‘em from a safe distance with curved shots. Archers should always control the battlefield.”

“Okay, yeah, I get that,” Cyril ceded. “I’m gonna go practice some of those curved shots right now.”

“You’re not a bad student. If nothing else, you have the right attitude.”

“You think so?”

“Keep it up.”

“I will.”

I watched as Cyril headed out. Shamir departed the opposite direction. And here I was left. All alone. Why was I not surprised?

Well, I guess I could take mental inventory. Swords? Safely stored in my pouch. Bombs? Still rocking thirty-eight or so, and fifty Bombchus. My Hookshot was in mint condition. My bow could use some minor upkeep, but it wasn’t anything pressing. My bottle collection was untouched, including the four or so I had, ah, liberated from Fhirdiad. I was up to twelve now– it would be a lie to say it couldn’t well be in the thousands if I was less picky. But half the art of bottle collecting was for the stories they told, the secrets only they and I knew. Most of them were filled with rations, although I had some emergency Red and Green potions for use in a pinch. No Chateau Romani, though. That stuff was expensive .

Back on track. The transformation masks, alongside Katáktisi, remained hidden underneath a false bottom in my deceptively deep pouch. It must have been dreadfully boring for the Crestwraith itself.

Not so, the parasite assured. We are bonded; I see through your eyes, hear through your ears. That mask is little more than a conduit for my power. That was… reassuring.

Ah. There they were.

“Individually, you’re all doing great,” Byleth lauded in that very uninspiring way of theirs. “I have no complaints on that front for any of you. However– fighting alone and fighting together are two very different things. That’s what we’re going to need to work on starting now. In the interest of fairness, it’s going to be five versus five. Both Dimitri and I will take turns assembling a team from the rest of you. Since there are an odd number of us, I’ve requisitioned Link for this exercise– you might remember him from the Holy Mausoleum.”

“Hi,” I said. Nobody reacted except for Dedue, of all people, who gave me a small nod of acknowledgement. “Just as a heads-up– turns out I can’t stay past four o’clock, because they got a new shipment of furniture for the Academy dorms and I have to be onsite for that. I would get that done later tonight, but I’m on Manuela Duty starting at seven until whenever she decides to go to sleep, which could be anywhere from midnight to the Red Wolf Moon.” My eyes locked onto the strange sword resting at the professor’s hip. I recognized it as the one from the Holy Mausoleum. They let her keep that? I was surprised.

“That’s fine– it still leaves us three hours, which is more than enough time,” Byleth explained. “So, Dimitri– you get the first pick.”

Dedue? “Dedue.” Knew it.

“Ingrid.”

“Felix.”

“Mercedes.”

“Ashe.”

“Sylvain.”

“Annette.”

“Which leaves me with Link.” I got that I was a child, but I still couldn’t help but feel hurt. We split across the training ground, five versus five. Team Byleth had the benefit of a healer in Mercedes and a lot of mobility in Sylvain and Ingrid– plus the tactical advantage of having the professor– but Team Dimitri had a lot of damage in himself, Felix, and Dedue, with additional distance support via Ashe and Annette.

“On a scale of one to seventeen, how much of my arsenal should I actually use?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Seventeen,” came Byleth’s very calm reply. I took a double take.

“Alright.” She definitely didn’t know what she had just agreed to, but orders were orders.

Does that mean–

No, Katáktisi. It does not.

Very well.

At some unseen command, we threw ourselves at each other. I found myself sandwiched in between Ingrid and Sylvain, as the walls of steel named Dedue, Dimitri, and Felix all but bowled over us. They had certainly improved since the last time we had fought, but I knew I had improved too. Not enough to surpass them per se, but enough to close the gap at least a couple of hairs’ breadths. I used my smaller statue to somersault between Dedue’s legs, Byleth taking my place in keeping the three opponents from reaching Mercedes. Now that I was behind the enemy line, I would be able to hopefully eliminate their distance fighters, allowing my team ranged superiority.

Ashe and Annette quickly understood what I was going for, because they quickly focused their attention on me. But that was nothing a well-placed Deku Nut couldn’t fix…

The resounding bang and vibrant light filled the arena. Only myself, Dimitri, and Dedue were at all prepared for it. Before they could recover, I was upon them, swinging and thrusting with ferocious speed. More! Katáktisi cheered with reckless abandon, and I felt a beautiful, terrible impetus surge through my veins.

They knew to yield. Good, I turned back and–

It occurred to me that maybe I should have given some level of warning to my allies about the Deku Nuts beforehand. Because in the space of time that it had taken for me to deal with Ashe and Annette, the other three managed to fold to Dimitri, Dedue, and Felix, who had doubled back to face me. As far as I could tell, Mercedes was still in it, but even with her help, I couldn’t win the three on one.

Well, not fairly.

“You have no chance,” Felix drawled.

“As long as I’m breathing, there’s still a chance,” I countered. “For example, all three of you could have simultaneous heart attacks and all keel over where you stand.”

“That is ridiculous,” stated Dedue.

“It’s a chance. Speaking of which, mind holding this?” Before the Duscurian could respond, I had darted forward and shoved a lit bomb into his hands. “Thanks!” Fortunately, Dedue recovered quickly enough from the surprise; he threw the bomb into the air just before it burst, where it exploded harmlessly. I had only ever intended to use it as a distraction. I was already throwing myself forward, throwing another Deku Nut to disorient them further. I was going to need speed, power, and surprise to win– and I had at least one of those.

I decided to target Dedue first– Felix and Dimitri would be able to retreat into Dedue’s sphere of influence if I tried to engage them. Better to remove the larger man from the equation entirely.

As soon as the light faded, I hit Dedue with three consecutive blasts of Din’s Fire. Conveniently, I was also able to catch the other two in the radius. The flames were enough to take the Duscurian out of the fight, which was surprising– I guess he was just weaker against magic. Good to know.

Felix and Dimitri looked at each other and nodded in some silent communion. It was all the communication they needed, as they swiftly pounced in perfect sync. I was out of magic, they were too close to use bombs or a bow, and Deku Nuts wouldn’t work on them anymore. Each of them would have been able to outclass me at this range on my own, but fighting together I stood less of a chance than a Deku Scrub outside its nest. It still didn’t hurt to try, so for what it was worth I continued the fight, getting some convenient healing from Mercedes.

But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. I had to lock blades with Felix, only to nearly be gutted by His Highness. When I tried to disengage to pick one off, the other would always rush in. I really had no choice but to capitulate if I wanted to be at peak performance in subsequent rounds.

“You know what? I got one, and I’m happy with that. I surrender.”

“Team Dimitri wins,” the professor announced. “Link, what was that?”

“Deku Nuts,” I explained. “They grow where I’m from. You throw them, and they make a big old flash when they hit the ground.”

“I was referring more to the live explosive . ” If she was supposed to be exasperated, she did a terrible job of showing it.

“I don’t see the problem, it was just one bomb. In my defense, I did ask you if I could use it and you gave me the go-ahead.”

“Even still, how was–”

“Death Knight.”

Silence. The rest of the class was probably wondering what the Death Knight had to do with my explosives. Byleth was most likely weighing what to say, although she did not let her expression betray her thoughts.

“Fair enough,” the professor acquiesced. “Just… don’t use explosives during spars. We’re trying to improve as a team, not kill each other.”

“Of course. It was a distraction play more than anything– the fuses take, like, five seconds to burn out. If anyone gets actually hurt by it, it’s their own fault, really.”

“Okay.” Byleth clasped her hands, ignoring the last bit of my tirade. Understandable. “Let’s repeat this exercise with different captains. Felix, Sylvain– you’re captains. We’ll start with Sylvain.” The red-haired youth shot his best winning smile at the professor herself. “Alright then,” she stated, heading over to stand behind Sylvain.

“Annette,” Felix ordered. That was a surprise.

“Ingrid.” I was beginning to sense a theme here.

“Boar.” Why did Felix call Dimitri Boar, anyway? It wasn’t his name, his surname, or his middle name. It was just… weird.

“Mercedes.” Yup. Definitely a theme there.

“Ashe.”

“... Dedue.” Ouch, separating lord and vassal. That was rough. Honestly, what hurt more was that I was being picked last… again. I guessed it made sense– this was a team-building exercise for the Blue Lions, and last I checked I wasn’t even a student.

~~~

Golden Goddesses, I hated Manuela Duty. Sure, it was less demanding while the sun was up, as opposed to real nighttime, but being constrained to one location made me stir-crazy pretty quick. I’d rather be doing something, helping someone, as opposed to just waiting for something to maybe happen. Being stuck in the general vicinity of Professor Manuela in some random hole-in-the-wall establishment down an alley in Remire was utterly stifling. That being said, it wasn’t like I could just blow it off– if something happened to the ex-diva, I could never forgive myself.

~~~

“Hey Link!” shouted Annette from the other side of the dining hall.

“Hello, Annette,” I replied, scooping up several dirty plates from off the table. The conduct of some of these students was outright ridiculous– who doesn’t clean up after themselves when they’re done eating? The Church was always going on and on about how ‘cleanliness is godliness’ and all that. One would think that in Garreg Mach, at least, people would be more careful about their actions– especially a third of the way through the year. Especially with Rhea and Seteth breathing down everyone’s necks. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I just had a teeny, tiny favor to ask,” she said, twirling with one of her pigtails. I was pretty sure that those hoop structures were pigtails. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a man with hair the same color as mine, a scowling face, and a generally gloomy demeanor… have you?”

I tried to place that description on anyone I had met in Garreg Mach. Alas, nobody came to mind. “I’m going to need a little more information than that,” I said, whipping out my notebook and furiously scribbling additional notes.

“Wow! When Mercie said you were meticulous, she wasn’t kidding!”

“Mercedes recommended me?” I was touched.

“Yeah! She told me about that time you first met, and–”

“Hard for me to forget falling down the stairs,” I interjected. “Not exactly the introduction I would have hoped for.”

She laughed. “Anyways… um… He’s about thirty-five centimeters taller than me, couple gray hairs, couple scars on his face–”

“Does this mystery person have a name?”

“I guess he’d be going by Gustave?” She said that funny. Come to think of it, that name sounded… vaguely familiar…

“Hmm… it rings a bell, but I can’t quite place it,” I admitted. “I promise I’ll keep an eye out. How’s that sound?”

“Ooh, that’d be great! Thanks a– oh Goddess, I think I see him over there!” Annette quickly skipped full-tilt out of the dining hall, humming a jaunty little tune as she went. If I had to put her on a sliding scale between Mercedes and Hubert in terms of softness, she’d land just shy of Flayn. Not quite a human marshmallow… more like a human cinnamon roll.

“Bah! Who left this stupid barrel here?”

I let the sounds of the mess hall overtake me, but I was able to pick out one set of sounds over some of the others. I glanced up discretely, and noticed the white-haired leader of the Black Eagle house chatting with… I was blanking on her name.

“It’s not a question of can or cannot,” she was saying. “All that matters is doing it and doing it right. The nobility system has only been around for twelve hundred years. The concept didn’t exist before that.”

I like the direction this is going, Katáktisi chimed in.

“‘Only’ twelve hundred years, huh?” Dorothea– oh yeah, that was it! Her name was Dorothea! “Ha. You always say such preposterous things, Edie.” Edie… Was that a pet name for Edelgard von Hresvelg? That seemed to be the only logical explanation. “Yet somehow, you actually make it work for you. It’s like you’re a character from an opera.”

“A character from an opera… hm. If an opera is made about my life someday, I wonder how I’ll be portrayed. The revolutionary who guided the Empire to a new dawn… or the foolish ruler who took her revolution too far…”

Was I… supposed to be hearing this? Eh, it was probably just metaphorical. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure why I was listening in the first place.

“Well, that all sounds pretty violent. But either way, it would make an incredible opera. Do you figure it would be a grand action piece full of combat and strife? Or would you prefer a somber political drama?”

Dorothea threw her head back and started singing in a beautiful soprano. “Hail the mighty Edelgard, though red blood stains her story… Heavy though her crown may be, she will lead us all to glory… To a brighter dawn, we shall carry on… Hail, Edelgard!” She was pretty good, actually. An idea popped into my mind, persistent as a gnat– if only I could communicate through a similar medium. The tempo, the cadence of her singing… if I replicated that with my ocarina, it may speak of Hyrule and Termina in ways that words would not suffice. I was currently busy right now, but I would have to pencil that in at a later date.

“That’s quite enough, Dorothea,” Edelgard hastened to say. “I’m starting to feel more than a little embarrassed. Lovely as your voice may be, let’s just hope that any operatic productions are still a ways off.”

~~~

“Um, good evening, Link,” Mercedes greeted unevenly. “I’m surprised to see you out this late– almost no one ever is at this hour.”

“I could say the same to you, Mercedes,” I replied as warmly as I could. “What brings you to this particular corner of the monastery?”

“I was wrapping up my evening prayers, and I decided to take another way back to my room,” she explained. “I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone, though. What brings you to this part of the monastery?”

“The professor needed help tracking down some lost items,” I said, “so I’m searching for anything that’s been misplaced. I’m also doing grounds maintenance so that Claire and I don’t have to do it later. It just gives me something to do.”

“My goodness! It’s so late, yet you’re doing all this work. That must be exhausting,” Mercedes breathed. “Try not to overtax yourself, alright? We wouldn’t want you to wear yourself out. I only ever seem to see you working during the day; it’s not healthy to work all night too.”

“I’m used to it at this point,” I tried to placate. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mercedes. I’ve been living like this since long before I came to the monastery.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then I can’t disagree. But I think it’s necessary to give yourself a break every now and again. The mind has a tendency to make mistakes when you’ve exhausted yourself… in my case, I seem to make mistakes even when I’m awake.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” I assured, picking myself up off of the ground.

“I’m always mixing up dates for drills or misplacing things… just last week, I spent an entire weekend studying for a test that didn’t exist. My mind can be so scatterbrained sometimes. Anyways, where was I…”

“You were saying something about me overexerting myself?” I supplied.

“Oh, right! I was saying that you shouldn’t push yourself too hard. We don’t think any less of you because of your age– or at least, I don’t. Is there anything I can do to assist you with all the things that you do? If it’s alright with you, I’d be happy to help you with anything you need.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to be a bother–”

“It’ll be fine! I may be clumsy, but I’ll get better over time. Please see me if you ever think of anything!”

“I…” I hesitated. “I will. Thanks, Mercedes.” I was a liar.

~~~

I want some answers, Katáktisi.

There are many questions. You must be more specific.

About Tomas. And ‘Tomas’. And Caiaphas. And you.

I told you to keep your tongue inside your mouth where it belongs, when last you tried to broach this topic.

I don’t care, Katáktisi. I’m your Champion, so you had better fess up.

I could feel the mask’s frustration building, like the buzzing of a mosquito inside my ear canal. And why, it hissed, should your status as my Champion mean anything?

Because we’re partners. I’m your avatar, your conduit to the real world. If you never tell me anything, how am I supposed to know if I’m making some horrible blunder?

The Fierce Deity did the closest thing to baring its teeth that a sapient disembodied voice could possibly manage. In this instance, ignorance is safety.

Forget that. If I’m really your Champion and not your host, you should darn well start treating me like it!

Silence.

Why, you– Katáktisi sighed. There were four of us– Aγωνία, Μιζέρια, Φρίκη , and myself. We were forged by a man named Lord Epimenides, in an attempt to create artificial Crests.

I translated the new ancient names… Agony, Misery, Horror, and Conquest. Artificial Crests? Like Hanneman’s research? Speaking of which, I would have to get back to him on those results for the Professor. I had been too busy to get around to it.

Aye. We were… not the intended outcome. But we, the Crestwraiths as we were named, had the ability to feed on the power of those who wore us– our hosts. We were used in the War of Heroes to consume Nabateans, and use their power against their allies.

So you’re… a parasite?

Effectively.

Then, was Majora… like you?

Yes. The one you call Majora is truly named Μιζέρια. We were deployed at the Battle of the Tailteann Plains in the War of Heroes… and we lost. Φρίκη was destroyed by Saint Serios. I know not what happened to Aγωνία, but presumably it was retrieved. What is known to me is that Μιζέρια and I escaped in the aftermath. Then we… fell into an Outrealm Rift. A Perpendicularity, as you understand it.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. 

We found that we could not return to Fodra, Katáktisi continued. But we had stumbled into a world ripe for the taking. A world where we could feed unhindered.

And gain the power to create Perpendicularities, I realized with a sudden bolt of fear. Did you–

We never reached that apex. Termina would have perhaps pushed Μιζέρια to that point… but you killed it at the end. Or perhaps it, too, would not have been enough.

I said nothing for a long time. If Misery wanted to feed upon Termina, then why would he give you to me? I don’t think I would have bested him without you.

In truth, the idea was mine. A Crestwraith feeds upon three pillars– the strength of body, the strength of mind, and the strength of spirit. You were a child, but your spirit was hard as diamond and twice as bright. Most hosts are like… a pile of ant-infested leaves on the side of the long road. You, by comparison, are more akin to a five-star inn– flowerbeds under the windows, warm lights, friendly man beckoning you inside… I was drawn to it like the moon to the earth.

I shivered. I may not have learned about Caiaphas or Tomas, but I finally understood something that had been eating away at me. So what’s going on at the Red Canyon?

Caiaphas has no intentions of telling the truth. That much is known to me… his exact intentions escape my calculations. It is most likely to me that he hopes that Aγωνία will kill you, so that I may be retrieved from your cold, dead hands. Well, that was a comforting thought. I didn’t even know what this ‘Agony’ creature looked like, much less how adept it would end up being at killing me. If it was anything like Katáktisi…  

If he does not know that I have made you my Champion, my patron continued, then perhaps he wishes to make you a host for Aγωνία. Perhaps he, too, senses the strength of your spirit, and the frailty that your mind once possessed during your sojourn to face Μιζέρια. To feast on you would greatly strengthen any Crestwraith, and perhaps grant them the strength to wipe out the Nabateans.

But if I’m so powerful… what stopped you from feeding on me?

The disembodied voice was quiet. I do not know, it admitted. I couldn’t help but feel that that wasn’t exactly promising. Perhaps it is the blessing of your gods. Perhaps the strength of your spirit was so overpowering that I could not harm you even if I tried. Perhaps I simply chose not to. It matters not– I have cast my die alongside yours. You and I are partners in destiny, and I would destroy Fodra for you. If I must delay the rise of Agartha to preserve you, then so be it.

One last question– I could feel Katáktisi’s impatience start rising again. And I promise it’s the final one. Why did you never talk to me, before I came to Fodra?

A simple answer. The magics in this world harmonize with me, it revealed. You and I could not speak in Hyrule even if we wished, as the connection between our minds could not be stabilized. The only interaction we could have is the transformation into the form you call the Fierce Deity.

I see… Thank you, Katáktisi.

You are welcome, but do not take that as an invitation.

~~~

It was the rainy season again, by which I meant it was properly the Verdant Rain Moon again. Which, naturally, meant that I was wet.

Absolutely wonderful.

You will never find this kitchen thief of yours in this weather, Katáktisi pointed out. Or ever, for that matter. Go back inside. You’ll get one of those… what are they called… it’s when the body starts killing itself to root out dissenters… ah, right. You’ll get ill.

You don’t know me, you… you!

This is ridiculous. But the Crestwraith relented.

I liked the rain, although I wasn’t sure why. I think it had something to do with the pitter-patter of droplets on the surroundings serving as a white noise. Plus, on the off chance that the clouds parted, there were some nice rainbows to be seen.

The weather was certainly removing any chance of finding traces of my prey. Maybe Katáktisi was right, and I should head back inside before I caught a cold.

I began to make my way back towards the monastery–

And something coiled around my foot.

Almost before I could react, I was being hoisted upside-down by my ankle from some kind of rope. It was mildly irritating, to be sure, but it was far from impossible to escape this predicament. I drew a simple hunting knife from my pouch and cut the rope with minimal difficulty. However, I didn’t account for still being upside-down, and I swiftly fell onto the back of my neck.

“Ow.”

I remained faceup in the mud for a couple of moments, not quite sure of what had just happened. Someone had… laid a trap? But why here, in the underbrush? It must have been the pantry thief! That meant–

“Did you seriously get stuck in my trap?”

Darn. “Well. Um. Yeah,” I admitted, getting up off the ground and examining the damage to my clothes. It wasn’t anything a bit of washing couldn’t fix. “I’ll admit, your ‘trap’ wasn’t as useless as I initially thought.”

Leonie grumbled. “What were you even doing out here? It’s pouring out.”

“Keeping up the search for that kitchen thief I mentioned earlier. Realistically, I should be asking you that question. Let me guess– you’re checking up on your traps?”

She nodded. “Takes a while, but you bag a lot of otherwise elusive game.”

“Can’t argue with that. But you’re never going to take down anything larger than a baby deer– that is, me.”

“There aren’t too many megafauna in this part of the forest, though.”

“Hmm…” I tapped my chin contemplatively. “What if we were to host a little challenge? See how many animals we can take down until the end of the moon. Whoever takes down the most wins. We could open it up to other students if they want to participate.”

“Hm… could be fun. You’re on! Maybe we could get Captain Jeralt to judge.”

We started walking more or less aimlessly into the woods. “You really look up to Jeralt, huh?”

“Yeah. Six years ago, him and his merc troupe came to my home village, and even though he didn’t spend much time there, he took me under his wing. I’m his first and best apprentice. I didn’t even know he had a kid until the year started, though… kinda odd that he never even mentioned it.”

“That is weird,” I admitted. “And you want to follow in his footsteps?”

“Exactly. Once I graduate, I’m going to be the best mercenary in Fódlan, just like him. Make my whole village proud, y’know?”

Something about that felt slightly off to me, but I didn’t voice it, merely opting to trudge behind her in the pouring rain as she diligently checked up on the rest of her traps. We idly chatted as we went. She told me about Sauin Village in the Alliance, how she had borrowed money to come to the Academy and aspired to pay that debt back. She espoused the merits of trapping, as well as the best spots to fish and the best bait to use. In return, I shared the lie I had told nearly everyone, told stories of fearsome beasts and strange peoples, and explained the philosophy of being the trap instead of setting the trap. Leonie seemed nice enough, and even if I lost the bet we had made, at least I would have an ally at the end of all this.

We eventually parted in the marketplace as we returned to the monastery; she departed for her own room. I locked eyes with Caiaphas for a brief moment– he was still standing in that exact same expectant position, for Goddesses’ sake– before swiftly turning away. I couldn’t suffer under that gaze any longer. I ducked inside, out of the rain, and doffed my hat, squeezing it dry. After all, any mess that I made was a mess that I or Cyril or one of the other workers would have to clean up later. I was, of course, wearing my Kokiri tunic– somehow it still fit, and it blocked moisture fairly well, so I didn’t have to worry about that too much. Still, though– better safe than sorry.

“I heard about our mission for the month, I overheard Dimitri saying. “So… we are to eradicate thieves in Kingdom territory. I’m sorry for dragging you into the Kingdom’s petty squabbles. This should not be your burden to bear, but my own…”

“I’m happy to help,” Byleth countered. I guessed they were talking about this moon’s assignment. More bandit hunting? Didn’t they do that in the Harpstring Moon as well? To be fair, I had heard about the Faerghus vagabond problems quite a lot when I was living in Fhirdiad. I understood on some level; the conditions of Faerghus were brutal, forcing children to learn to fight before they could write. It was only natural that some would be forced to turn to thievery in order to survive. But this felt… different somehow.

“Thank you, Professor. Hearing you say that puts my mind at ease…” Dimitri glanced behind him. “Hm?” It appeared that someone was marching straight towards the prince and the professor with a wide grin on his face. He almost looked like a really old Felix.

“Your Highness! Ah, it’s been ages!” the new arrival said.

“It’s been a long time! Two years, if I’m not mistaken.” That would explain why I didn’t recognize this individual. I had only been in Fodra for just shy of a year and a half.

“Indeed, Your Highness. You’ve grown so much in those years. I hardly recognize you!”

“Is this a friend of yours?” Byleth interjected, asking the question that was currently burning in my mind.

“This is Rodrigue, an old friend of my father’s. I believe I’ve mentioned him, if you recall?” Oh, this was Felix’s dad! Yeah, I definitely saw the familial resemblance. What was he doing here at Garreg Mach? I mean, maybe he just came to visit his kid. “When my father died four years ago, he looked after me as though I were his own son.”

“You flatter me, Your Highness. It was my honor to care for such a fine young man.” What was with the whole ‘Your Highness’ thing? It seemed a rather uncreative title.

Mortals enjoy having their egos stroked, Katáktisi commented. Most mortals, anyway. And most immortals too, now that I give that thought its due recourse.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, professor,” Rodrigue continued. “My son, Felix, has mentioned you on occasion.”

“What brings you to the monastery, Rodrigue? Is it the thieves plaguing the Kingdom?”

“I’m afraid so. This is not merely a problem for House Gautier, but for everyone. The thieves have set up their headquarters in Fraldarius territory, and are mercilessly pillaging the villagers of that area. You have our full support in stopping those dastards. I thank you for your help, both of you.”

They might have kept talking, but at this point I was freezing my tail off, so I backed away to find a nice change of clothes. And maybe a hot bath. Yeah, that sounded nice.

I headed into the bathhouse and drew myself plenty of hot water. Heat was a luxury I had never been able to afford before coming to Fodra. Back before then, the closest thing I had ever taken to a formal bath was a swim in Lake Hylia or the Great Bay. It wasn’t that I was unhygienic or anything like that; none of the Kokiri ever really needed to because swimming was such a common pastime, and it wasn’t like I had time to take care of myself in Termina. So it had never really stuck with me until I got chewed out for it in Fhirdiad.

I set my pouch on the far side of the stall. Technically, these were reserved for students in the Officer’s Academy, but there were always more than enough even during peak hours, so I never thought it was an issue and nobody had ever told me not to. I kept my weaponry within reach of the tub itself, just in case. One could never be too careful when it came to this sort of thing.

I kicked off my combat boots, shrugged off my tunic, and paused. Goddesses, every time I actually looked at myself, I was reminded exactly why I hated this body. My torso was littered with discolorations from old wounds and crisscrossing scars. I didn’t mind any of those too much, although if my shirt ever caught a scar at a certain angle, it would hurt like a punch from Ganondorf. Most of the marks on my body would go away with time, as I healed the old-fashioned way. Already, the physical scars of Termina were nearly completely faded. One would have thought that spending Goddesses knew how long running the same sequence of events over and over again would have taught me how to not get injured, especially if my wounds disappeared each loop. Actually, the opposite was true. Sometimes it was beneficial to allow an enemy to land a strike on me if it meant being able to hit it back twice as hard a moment later. Being careful with my body took time– and time was something I most certainly did not have back then.

No, that wasn’t the part that I truly hated. I despised the shape, the feel of my short arms, the last scraps of baby fat that still stubbornly clung to my cheeks, even after everything. I despised the look that ‘adults’ would give me, pitying and coated with a fake understanding and malicious sympathy. I couldn’t tolerate it, because they failed to understand the weight of my pain, the life I’d lost, the abomination I was forced to become. Or they were at least unfamiliar with soul-sucking timeloops.

I settled down in the water and immediately got to work. I didn’t want to have to look at this flesh prison a second longer than was absolutely necessary. The bar of soap I was given had the consistency of sandpaper and was half as pleasant on the skin, so hating my form wasn’t my only motivator.

I wrapped up quickly, and hid my accursed body behind the fabric of my tunic. I took a moment to lop a few centimeters off of my hair– I couldn’t let it get completely grown out. I had to maintain the appearance of a normal child, after all.

I almost threw up just thinking that.

I think I might wrap it up there. Gotta balance out the three-month speedrun that was last chapter. I do want to give some focus to character interactions with Link, including for people outside of the Blue Lion House house– hence integrating the Dorothea-Edelgard C-support (which ties into a support chain between Link and Dorothea later down the line), using the Leonie support ideas that I already had, et cetera.

Regarding the other Crestwraiths, I decided to take a page out of FE tropes and basically surgically implant the Four Generals archetype into the Agarthans. Examples include the Four Riders from Path of Radiance and, more recently, the Four Hounds from Engage. Really looking forward to writing them.

Review please!

Guest (FF): Yup, that’s going to be fun.

Carlos Andres Araya (FF): This fic is definitely more FE-focused just by nature of taking place in Fódlan. Besides, you’d probably have to drag Link kicking and screaming back to Hyrule to get other Zelda characters into Closed Circuit.

CuddlyManaki (AO3): Thank you!

quadjot (AO3): Thank you!

Equalized Enigma (FF): Glad I could answer your question for, uh, me! I have a cool scene in mind for the Zora Mask in particular…

Laxard (FF): To be honest, I’m going off of the FE wiki and what I’ve heard from members of the community (I’ve never played the game myself because I don’t own a Switch, if that wasn’t clear). I’m sure you have more experience on the subject matter than I do, but it’s probably safer to go with majority consensus.

LoneGrim (AO3): Thank you!

DarthFlores (FF): I’m glad you enjoyed it! I don’t intend to limit his interactions only to those he’ll fight alongside, per se. Everybody will get a turn; it’s just a matter of when and how.

Chapter Text

Hi all. I initially named this fic Closed Circuit because I wanted to play more with the idea of a Fódlan timeloop, where Byleth is constantly using Divine Pulses to try different routes and different dialogue options in order to find a golden route, but always going back because she couldn’t save everyone– a closed circuit, if you will. The story would focus on Link and Byleth eventually working together to achieve that goal, because haha Termina parallels go whee. But for a while now, the plans for this story have become a lot more intricate, unique, and frankly interesting, so I don’t intend to follow that structure anymore. While this is absolutely for the best because it lets me stretch my creative wings, so to speak, it does have the unfortunate side effect of making my title not make any sense. I want to change it, but I’m not quite sure what I should change it to. I have a couple of ideas, including but not limited to Romance of the World’s Salvation (an antithesis of ‘Romance of the World’s Perdition’) , In Time’s Cruel Flow (a combination of the Nabatean Lullaby and ‘The flow of time is always cruel’) , Behind This Mask (a lyric in ‘The Edge of Dawn’ and the one I’m most partial to at present), To Conquer Four Seasons (a reference to Katáktisi and the Japanese name of Three Houses) , and Cobalt Crescent (keeps the alliteration of the current title and also has ties to Azure Moon) . If anyone has any other suggestions, please feel free to reach out! I’ll probably make the switch by next chapter’s release.

Chapter XI

Fleeting moments like this were few and far between, but I relished them all the same. Here was a day when nobody needed anything, or wanted for anything. All my duties for the day had already been fulfilled and there were no side jobs to pursue at present, so I just got the opportunity to sit back and work my way through that book Ashe had given me all that time ago, Loog and the Maiden of Wind . Loog and Kyphon themselves were kind of flat to me and their characterization left something to be desired, which was a shame because they ate up the most words and scenes in the story. By contrast, Pan was really cool and smart and mysterious! He felt the most like a real person, unlike the ‘main characters’ who were clearly more intended to be vehicles for power fantasy first and foremost.

“Good morning, Link,” Ashe greeted.

“Good morning,” I responded, looking up from my book. Ashe sat down in a nearby chair.

“How are you liking the book so far?”

“Well, um,” I stammered, closing the book and avoiding eye contact. “I have been finding it kind of difficult to focus on the words– and that’s not to belittle the actual story, it’s really good! I don’t know, maybe it’s not for me. I think I should probably try expanding my literary palette after I get through this, though.”

Ashe nodded. “I think that’s a very good idea. Different people have different tastes.”

We read in amiable silence for a few minutes. Ashe cleared his throat.

“Hm?”

“Last time we met here, you, ah, said you would try telling some of your home’s stories.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Drat. I had forgotten about that! “Well, when do we want to do this?” Think, Link, think! I didn’t remember any tales! Mainly because they never existed!

Unless…

“I mean, we’re both here, aren’t we?”

I breathed in. Breathed out. Took a swig from my canteen. There was… one story I was intimately familiar with. One story that I could recite word for word. A story so fantastical, so ridiculous and over-the-top, that there was no way he would take it as anything less than just a tall tale.

My own. 

“Alright, Ashe. Get yourself comfortable there, because this might take a while.

“Once upon a time, there was a swordsman. Brave and experienced, but a bit naive. He wandered, in a kingdom of turmoil. The princess of the land had disappeared, you see. The swordsman was approached by the king of the land, who implored him to find the missing princess.”

It would be difficult to transcribe Lord Jabu-Jabu’s belly in a way that wouldn’t leave Ashe too confused, but I felt that I was up to the task. It was my story, after all.

“No matter how closely the swordsman searched, the princess could not be found anywhere. Eventually, his travels took him to the Great Bay, where all the world’s rivers flowed to. There, buried in the silt of the lakebed, was the glimmer of a bottle. His curiosity piqued, the swordsman dove to the bottom and fished it out of the water. Inside the bottle was a note, signed with the name of the missing princess.

“‘ Help me. I am waiting for you inside Lord Jabu-Jabu’s belly. P.S. Don’t tell my father.’ ”

I paused for dramatic effect. “Needless to say, the swordsman told her father.”

Ashe laughed. “Who is this ‘Lord Jabu-Jabu’, exactly? I feel like I’m missing some context.”

“The way I remember the story, Lord Jabu-Jabu was a guardian spirit who took the form of a giant whale. It kept the water clean or something,” I elaborated. “Anyways, upon receiving this information, the king demanded the swordsman enter the belly of the god and save his daughter. After making an offering of fish, the whale deity consumed the swordsman, and the gauntlet awaited.

“Lord Jabu-Jabu’s internal structure was not biologically sound. Rock-flinging octopodes, electric jellyfish, and parasitic tentacles had roosted in its insides; the swordsman had to cut through them to progress through closed-tight sphincters, the walls undulating in tandem with the whale’s breath.

“Eventually, the swordsman found the princess,” I continued, voice going slightly hoarse from continued exertion. “Fortunately, she appeared to be unharmed. Unfortunately, she had no intentions of leaving, and denied that she had ever written a letter. Despite the swordsman’s best efforts, the princess would not leave until…” I couldn’t bring up the spiritual stones, as there was no context for them. “Until the plague had been cleansed.”

“But if the princess didn’t write the letter, who did?”

Come to think of it, I had never actually thought of that. “I always thought she did write the letter. And was too ashamed to admit to asking for help.”

“Oh,” Ashe commented. “I guess that’s the lesson of the story– to never be afraid of asking for aid, and that you can’t always do everything on your own.”

“I guess that’s one interpretation,” I agreed, for the sake of not having to delve into it myself. “Anyways, the swordsman and the princess combed through the innards of the whale god, eventually finding the source of the illness– a giant, parasitic, bioelectric anemone, feeding off the life energy of Jabu-Jabu. After a long fight, the evil illness was slain and the princess returned to her father, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end.” There was no happy ever after, not for me. Never for me. But for now, in the context of the tale, it would be enough.

Ashe blinked. “It just… ends? Like that?”

“I could have embellished the fight scene a bit more, but my throat hurts,” I complained, rubbing the affected area for added effect. “I mean, it’s been a long time since I last heard these myths. I’m doing the best I can. If you want me to tell another story sometime later, I’d be happy to.”

“I really enjoyed listening to a fable from your home,” Ashe grinned. “How about… two weeks from now, same time and same place?”

“I guess that works for me,” I said, a whisper of heat forming on my face.

~~~

I ignored the pressure in my head as I watched the deer trot into the clearing. Hanging upside-down from a tree branch wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it was vital if I wanted to be able to pounce without making a sound. I just had to wait until it got a little closer.

It was maybe thirty meters away from me. I wanted it to be at most ten meters’ distance before I loosed my arrow directly into its brains. That way, the rush of the air would not be able to alert it to its impending death. The arrow hungered. And it would soon feast.

Twenty-five meters. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-one. I silently drew an arrow from my quiver and drew back the bowstring. It was still approaching.

Eighteen meters. Sixteen. Fourteen. Twelve. Eleven. Almost… there…

At once, there was an explosion of rustling from a nearby tree. Before either me or my target could react, a purple-haired Officer’s Academy student pounced from the canopy of a closer tree like a leopard and drove a dagger directly into the doe’s neck. On instinct, I loosened my grip, and the arrow flew into the target’s hindquarter. The other hunter stared at the arrow confusedly for a moment, before glancing directly at me, obviously having calculated the trajectory from the impact site. I had had no idea that she was even there.

“You stole my kill,” I pouted, not seriously miffed.

“I… am not understanding. Was that deer belonging to you?” she asked, seeming genuinely confused. I allowed my grip on the branch to slacken, falling squarely on my feet upon the ground.

“Well, it’s–” I stammered, thrown off by the question. “I guess– it’s… it’s a figure of speech. I was intending to do the same thing as you, but since you got to it first… well, it’s in the past now. Can’t exactly unkill it.”

“Oh. I am seeing,” she commented. “I am still having difficulty with the language of Fódlan. I have learned much of the rules of the language, but knowing and understanding are… fruits of a different color.”

I could get that. Being an adult and being a child were fruits of a different color as well. I couldn’t imagine how difficult life in Fodra would be if I hadn’t already known the common tongue. I made a mental note to steer clear of more complicated expressions when around this individual. It would just make life for both of us more difficult. “I understand completely. What’s your name?” I asked.

“I am being… no,” she corrected. “I am called Petra. What is your name?”

“Link. It’s nice to meet you. What were you doing out here?”

“I was informed that there is a hunting tournament until the end of the month,” she revealed. Huh. Convenient. “I was thinking that a deer of this size would be a good entry. But I would be feeling bad to have stolen from you…”

“Nah, keep it,” I assured. “I’m actually taking part in the hunting tournament myself, and it would feel wrong to take credit for an animal that you cut down.”

Interesting, Katáktisi noted, that she takes fashion advice from me.

Wh– I noticed the streak of war paint under her right eye. It wasn’t anywhere near as elaborate as the Fierce Deity’s markings, but it certainly went better with her hair. Oh. I get it. It’s probably just a coincidence. There’s no way she has a Crestwraith… There was definitely no way. Hopefully. Right?

I highly doubt it. Simply a respectable choice that I wanted to point out. I wonder how you would look with my marks…

That would be a sight. Still, I would have to keep a close eye on Petra, just in case. Anyways. Back to business– and by business, I meant waiting in a tree for an animal to pass by, and then shooting them in the eyeball. Just an average Thursday, really.

~~~

“Chop the vegetables into bite-size pieces.”

“Bite-size for me or bite-size for you , Dedue? There’s a pretty big difference.” He was an absolute titan of a man, to be fair. I thought the question would have been valid even if I were in the body I should have been.

“Aim for an in-between.”

I smiled, putting the knife to the greenery. “You got it.”

It so happened that Dedue was on kitchen duty today– the monastery kitchens were always open for the students to cook or bake for themselves. It had become something of a tradition for each student to cook a meal for the rest of their respective house at least once. Most of the time, though, it was up to Garreg Mach’s staff to feed its population. He didn’t need that much help– the Duscurian had occasionally cooked for His Highness back in Fhirdiad, and I had had the opportunity to taste his cooking. It was amazing, there was no doubt about it, but it always tasted like it was missing something. I remembered how Dedue had once spoken about his family, the one that he had before the Tragedy– how they had used spices and herbs and other ingredients that simply weren’t available in Faerghus due to scarcity and stigma. Maybe here at Garreg Mach, he would have the tools he needed to recreate what had been lost with his home.

I slid the now-eviscerated veggies towards Dedue’s side of the counter. “Anything else I can do to help you out?”

“No.”

I blinked. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Is it because I’m a child?” If he said he knew I had technically been banned from cooking in the monastery kitchen after the Deku Nut pecan cake incident, I was not going to be happy. They hadn’t even given me my hydromelons back!

“That is not it.”

I sighed. “Let me guess– because you’re from Duscur, you don’t want people to associate me with you.” 

Dedue said nothing. He was actually pretty easy to read once you knew what to look for.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this– I don’t care where you’re from. I don’t really have the right to, given where my home is. You know that.”

“...”

“I remember Dorothea saying something a while ago– I think it was ‘the path to man’s heart is through his stomach’. Maybe if you made Duscur food for everyone, you would win their hearts?”

“Nobody would want to eat that,” Dedue replied after a moment’s hesitation, the loud sizzle of the meat hitting the pan filling the room halfway through his sentence.

“You made it for Dimitri back in the capital. And for me. What’s the difference?”

“That was not true Duscur cuisine. The castle lacked many of the ingredients– as does the monastery. They do not synergize with Fódlan dishes.”

“I could put in an order for whatever you need on the next shipment. I don’t necessarily have any authority, but I’m sure I could suggest it to Seteth, or worst-case, add a couple items onto the manifest when nobody's looking. They won’t notice.” Sure, it was a bit disingenuous, but I had willingly given a land title deed to the mysterious toilet hand back in Termina and that was probably some flavor of illegal. Not to mention using a closed time loop to take free money out of the bank…

“You would… do that?” He sounded surprised. He knew me by now– he shouldn’t have been.

I shrugged. “Only if you promise to make it.” 

Dedue flipped the steak, allowing the other side to cook. “As you wish.” Victory, I decided, smelled very, very good. Or maybe that was just the food. No, definitely victory.

~~~

As it turned out, Leonie couldn’t get a hold of Jeralt to judge our little competition. He had his own mission to take care of this moon. Unfortunately, that left myself, Leonie, and Petra to judge the victor on our own. I had managed to take down three wild pigs, five squirrels, two chipmunks and eight squirrels, three pheasants, four foals, and a turkey. Petra, of course, presented that deer she had so unjustly stolen from me, plus a couple of extra small game. Leonie, by contrast, had amassed a veritable mountain of squirrels, chipmunks, mice, opossums, even a fox or two– every single animal that could conceivably be caught in a trap was, in some capacity, in her pile. A couple of the other students had also taken part, but comparatively their showings were meager.

“So we agree that Leonie wins on quantity, right?”

“Right.”

“I am agreeing.”

“That’s a nice deer, though,” Leonie commented.

“There is a strange story about it,” said Petra. “I was waiting in a tree and pounced on it with my knife. I was seeing that an arrow was in its back leg. What I did not know was that Link was also being there, and he was seeing the same prey.”

“She got to it first, by virtue of waiting in a tree ten meters closer than I was,” I laughed. “It was only fair, after all.”

“I mean, you didn’t do too shabby yourself. More than I would have gotten at your age,” Leonie admitted. “How old are you, anyway? Twelve?”

I shrugged, hiding how much that stung. “Sounds about right.” We observed the stacks of kills for a while. “I think the sheer volume of meat that Leonie has clinches it for her. Although… Yeah, now that I think about it, that’s kind of a hindrance. Think about it– one hunts prey to eat the prey. If you were to cook all of that meat, you would attract a lot of other predators.

“Not if you didn’t cook it all at once,” the Leicesterian countered. “This is a month’s haul of hunting.”

“True,” I admitted.

“Each of those will only feed you for so long,” Petra commented. “A large kill removes the need for the hunting for many days, whereas a squirrel will be eaten before nightfall.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“In addition, it’s a lot harder to debone a squirrel than, say, a boar,” I added. “And squirrels are half fur anyways, so…”

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” she said. “There’s definitely some merit to the whole ‘being the trap’ stuff.”

“And it’s definitely a safer bet to cover more ground.”

“I am thinking Leonie is still winning our competition,” Petra thought aloud. “It is a matter of… what is the word… quantity over quality.”

“You say that, almost like they’re not quality.”

“They are. But the deer is the highest quality of them all.”

“That’s fair.”

Silence.

“So what do we do with all of this, anyway?” I asked.

More silence.

“I never actually thought of that.”

“We could be donating it to the dining hall,” Petra suggested.

“That’s a pretty good idea,” Leonie and I said in unison. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

~~~

The Song of Storms left the holes of my ocarina, the quick-paced tune filling the air at a rapid pace. The sky opened with a torrential downpour, the only thing keeping me from becoming extraordinarily wet being the bell of the Goddess Tower. I had heard tales that an oath sworn here would be eternal. And, well, come true. That was rather obvious given the first axiom. I thought that the whole thing was pretty useless, honestly. Why put stock in some sappy hogwash when we were here on this continent, able to make that change for ourselves?

It was 7:05, so the ringing of the bells would be done for the night. I was alone, save the rain, the wind, and my ocarina. And Katáktisi. Couldn’t forget about that.

The storm would continue for a while yet. I switched tempo, tone shifting, Saria’s Song dominating the tower as the light of the waning sun sank below the horizon. I played for some time, waiting for a connection that I knew would come. Any second now. Here it came.

"" Hi Link! "" Saria’s voice came, garbled through interdimensional communication though it was. "" How are you? ""

At once, I was gripped with a horrid melancholia. "" I’m… I’m… "" I couldn’t bring myself to say that I was alright. So much had happened since last we spoke. I had learned the identity of the man who had hounded my thoughts for so long. I had learned of Katáktisi’s true, parasitic nature. I had died, impaled on the end of a scythe wielded by a ghoul of dark armor. "" I’m still here, "" was all I could manage.

"" Is everything okay? ""

I suppose everything aligned perfectly for just one moment. The rain, the view, her voice, the silence and noise mixing into each other in a beautiful and terrible dance. Whatever it was, it broke me. Irrevocably. "" I… "" My voice was shaking. "" Saria… I miss you. ""

"" I miss you too, Link! And I wish you could come back. But… ""

We both knew how that sentence ended. "" It’s not that. Saria, you… you wouldn’t get it. ""

"" Then tell me what I don’t get, Link. ""

"" You wouldn’t understand. You’ll… "" I stopped myself, a flame behind my eyes that felt unfamiliar to me. It hurt, and I wanted it to stop. But at the same time, I… wanted to keep going? Maybe if I brushed the topic aside, she would let it slide. "" I don’t want to talk about it. Anyways– ""

"" Yes you do, "" the forest girl interjected, seeing right through my lie. She knew me too well to be deceived. Dammit. "" Link, you can tell me anything. I won’t judge you for it… That’s what friends are for. And I will always be… your friend. Now and forever, no matter what. So don’t shut me out, Link, please… now… What's bothering you? ""

I couldn’t respond in words. My eyes were… wet? That couldn’t be right, I was safely underneath the roof, and the rain wasn’t hitting me anywhere else. Then I realized what was happening.

When I had played the Song of Storms, I must have played it in my eyes. My eyes were raining, with such ferocity that squeezing them shut did nothing to stop the downpour. There had to be a word for this… crying? Yes. I was crying. But that was ridiculous! I was a man of seventeen, or twelve, or thirteen, or… that wasn’t important! Men didn’t cry… men… didn’t… cry…

But I was. And now that the floodgates were open, there was no stopping it. Every pain I had repressed for the last seven-two-nine-ten-three years… all of it was burgeoning to the front of my mind. Every agony. Every misery. Every horror. Every conquest.

I could say nothing, so I sobbed instead.

Steel yourself, Katáktisi whispered. You are not alone. Somehow, that just made me cry even harder than I already was, despite my best efforts.

"" Li– "" “–ink?”

"" I’m… I’m just so tired, Saria. I’m tired of being as swift as wind and as fierce as fire, "" “because the dream is over and all that” "" I have left is a wailing madness… "" “I’m tired of waking up and, no matter what, my first thought being how many hours I have left until” "" the moon tears through heaven and eradicates "" “everything I bothered to–” My voice and thoughts were rising, upwards and upwards in an unstoppable crescendo until every word was a wild scream. ""-- care about! I’m tired of being in this body "" “that feels” "" three sizes too small! I’m tired of "" “being treated like a child by” "" everyone around me! And "" “I’m tired of–”

In the name of the Agastya, Champion! Be! Silent! Katáktisi roared, barely audible over the din of my own meltdown. Look around you!

I drunkenly whirled around, and somehow Saria was standing behind me, a shocked and pitying expression on her face. “S… Saria?” I managed, my throat dried out from the twin tear tracks running down my cheeks. “How are you… here?”

“Wh–what?”

"" Link, I… I didn’t know you still felt that way… I want to– ""

Oh.

Oh no.

I killed the connection, not paying attention to whatever Saria was saying. I was too busy realizing the weight of my error. 

Because this wasn’t Saria. 

Saria was in Kokiri Forest, in Hyrule. This was Cethleann, the Nabatean Saint, invading my instance of weakness. How long had she been listening to me? I don’t know how long I stood there, stock still, stunned that someone would dare interrupt this moment of repose.

Kill her, the mask ordered. I did not give in, but its malice slid into my voice.

“Get out!” I snarled.

Flayn seemed completely taken aback. “But I just–”

“ I said get out! ” I shouted. Goddesses, I must have sounded like a madman. What a silly thing to fear. At the moment, I was one. “If you don’t leave me, right now, I’ll– I’ll throw you off the damn tower! ” It was half a threat and half a warning. The Crestwraith would have no qualms with annihilating the Nabatean where she stood without a second thought. I worried that if I were to continue like this… it would take over entirely. That its fury and my own pain would cloud my sense of reason. 

With a speed that belied her small stature, she was gone.

I took a moment to stabilize my breathing, the last of my woes pushing themselves from my eyes. I could worry about Flayn later. I had to make things right with Saria first. The song echoed through my surroundings once again.

"" Oh, thank Farore, Link! I was so worried! ""

"" I’m sorry for scaring you. And I’m sorry for unloading all of that at once. Men shouldn’t cry, and– ""

"" Forget that! "" I was stunned into silence. "" There’s nothing wrong with letting your feelings out. Repressing them like that just makes you hurt. Nobody wants that! ""

"" But… ""

"" But nothing, Link.”” Saria sighed. "" Let’s take this from the top, okay? ""

"" O… okay. "" Silence. I soon realized she was expecting me to spill. "" Ugh, I don’t know… ""

"" Try starting from the start. When you left Kokiri Forest. ""

Okay. I could do that. Maybe. If I lied. "" I… I felt so empty after Navi left, "" I explained. I couldn’t touch on what had happened in Hyrule, let alone Termina. Not at all. But I could surely talk about how they had made me feel. "" I thought if I just walked away, time would heal it. And… It kind of did. But… I’m not sure if it was worth it. And now that I’m trapped in the monastery… "" Katáktisi was silent.

"" Hey. Hey. No matter what happens, no matter how cruel the flow of time is, you still have me, alright? You can talk to me anytime… ""

The words were simple, but they meant the world to me. "" Saria… I… "" Somehow, I was still crying, even though the Song of Storms had long abated. "" Thank you. I mean that.”” I did, really. But not enough to be able to keep my word.

I set the ocarina back in my pouch, wiped the sorrow from my face, and turned to leave. However, as the sun dipped below the Fodra horizon, I found that I was facing my greatest foe yet.

A very, very angry Seteth.

Kill him.

Katáktisi…

The headmaster’s arms were crossed, a furious scowl on his Nabatean features, drowning in chiaroscuro though they were. I couldn’t blame him– I had kind of threatened to throw his daughter off an incredibly tall tower. Said daughter was currently positioned behind Seteth, watching me with concern and a droplet of fear. “Link, I demand an explanation. Flayn came to me in tears because…” He closed his eyes. “I would like to hear your side of the story–”

“To put on my headstone?” I interjected. I kept talking, in order to prevent Seteth from starting to castigate again. “I had come up here to think, sir. To play songs on my ocarina where nobody could hear them. They were written by… a close friend of mine. From back home. I don’t know if it was the rain, or the timing, or the Goddess Tower, or something else entirely, but I just… broke. Every memory and regret I’ve tried to repress for the last year and a half hit me all at once. In that moment of weakness, Flayn came to me, and I… lashed out.” It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either, and that would have to be enough. “I’m sorry, Seteth. And I’m even more sorry to you, Flayn. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time…”

Despite Cichol’s best efforts, Cethleann managed to get in front of him. “It seems you really do have strong memories of home. Despite what you said. Just like me and my brother.”

Tear their Crest stones out of their chests. This is our chance to prevail–

Katáktisi. Please stop. You’re not helping.

“Can we just… pretend this interaction never happened?” I begged.

“I would be more than happy to do that,” Flayn agreed.

“Flayn, we cannot forget that this was a threat on your life –”

“Brother, is it not enough that Link has explained himself and apologized? Besides, I did not come to you because I was scared for myself– I came to you because I was scared for him.”

Seteth was silent. “If that is what you wish, Flayn… You both will catch cold if you stay up here too long. Come inside.”

I looked into Seteth’s eyes. Whatever glimmer of friendliness that was there was… well, it was still there, albeit greatly diminished. Like the aftermath of a dying blaze, now only smoldering embers. Nobody held a grudge quite like a Nabatean, I supposed. I just hoped I could reestablish good terms with him– I hardly wanted to make an enemy out of Cichol yet, and… there was something else, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

…

~~~

I had avoided Seteth and Flayn like the plague for at least a couple of days. Rhea, too, as they had most likely told her about this incident. She wasn’t acting any differently around me, but she was Saint Seiros in disguise. She would have to be good at hiding things in order to pull that off, and this was no different. Saria was also a no-go. Not after that display. Regardless of what she said, I couldn’t bring myself to play her song again. It would only cause me pain.

Maybe I should have killed them when I had the chance. It would have spared me all this… anguish. It was too late now, though– they would surely expect it. To be entirely frank, I wouldn’t be surprised if they sicced the entire Officer’s Academy, every single Knight of Seiros, and half the blasted continent on me if I tried anything. Sure, with Katáktisi’s power I could take them, but I knew I didn’t want that. I was already half-convinced that they had told Claude von Riegan of the Golden Deer House to keep an eye on me, because I kept bumping into him in slightly odd locations and his reasons for being there felt somewhat off, but not enough to actually warrant any real suspicion. So I doubted it; besides, they would be most likely using someone like Shamir if they really wanted to keep tabs on my movements. I just wanted to make things right between us, but I knew I had to wait until Cichol came to me. If I continued to force the issue, I could only make it worse.

I hadn’t lost sight of my daily tasks, at least– I was still as busy as ever, and I was sure to not let my feelings get in the way of my work. But the Verdant Rain moon was coming to a close, and the Blue Lion house was off in Fraldarius territory hunting thieves. I wasn’t asked by Byleth to come along for the ride, which was fair– we had our jobs and we stuck to them. It was only the roll of the cosmic dice that allowed me to join them in guarding the Holy Mausoleum. Did I feel left out? Maybe a little. It’s not as though I wasn’t able to hold my own in a fight, despite that whole unpleasantness with the Death Knight. They were just thieves; how bad could it be?

In retrospect, I might have ruined everything. After all, I knew I could never speak to Saria again after that display. Just another burned bridge to add to the tally.

I think I’m going to call it there. I was initially considering sending Link to the black tower with the rest of the Blue Lions, but honestly that meeting with Saria is strong enough to be its own chapter. I didn’t want an action scene to sort of dull that moment of powerful emotional catharsis. Plus, it’s kind of unreasonable if Link starts going on every single mission right off the bat. He’s a church orphan, same as Cyril.

Review please!

CuddlyManaki (AO3): I’m glad you liked it so much! Regarding post-timeskip, I am also unsure of when exactly that’ll be because I haven’t started writing it yet (still in the mid-timeskip hahaha, currently about halfway through 1181). I’m happy I’m doing the characters justice!

Guest (FF): That scene was fun to write.

Unknowndonut1 (AO3): I gave Link a bit of a badass streak– just enough to spit lines like that without turning him into a generic tough guy™.

HiIExist (FF): I do have a Link & Edelgard conversation somewhere along these lines somewhere later in the pre-timeskip. Claude would also definitely be very suspicious of Link; I haven’t really given Claude much attention in the pre-timeskip because I’ve been focusing on other characters, but I could probably add something along those lines! Thanks for the suggestion!

NionNoir (AO3): You know how when a game updates and the meta changes? That’s kind of how I think of the fighting styles between Hyrule and Fódlan. The former is much more centralized around defense and waiting for your opponent to screw up, whereas the latter is defined by unrelenting offense and generally rolling over your foes. I don’t think someone like Dimitri could ever take down someone like Ganondorf, because Dimitri would charge into the fray, hit him a bunch of times, and wonder ‘why is this guy not even taking damage?’ before getting slowly torn to bits. Link, by contrast, is sort of like a counter-meta in Hyrule with somewhat weaker defense and somewhat higher offense, but with that change he loses the ability to sufficiently handle the Fódlan meta. Being underestimated by Ganondorf is probably also part of it, but I would argue that the whole counter-meta thing is the primary reason. And Link will most certainly learn to excel in Fódlan combat, especially since his Hylian experience is probably uniquely useful against Demonic Beasts. Thanks for your interest!

quadjot (AO3): same bro

DarthFlores (FF): I haven’t honestly given much thought to Link’s voice acting, which is surprising because in retrospect I probably should have. I’ve never watched FMA, but I searched up Edward Elric and have to admit that he looks a lot like Link? The voice is also fairly accurate compared to what I was thinking, if a bit less… subdued isn’t the right word, but it’s close. I’m not quite sure how to describe it. The voice you described is close, though.

TrashCan_Tasch (AO3): Glad you’re enjoying it!

Chapter Text

The astute FE3H fan will know exactly what month this chapter takes place in, and exactly what the mission is. In conjunction with last chapter… well. I won’t spoil anything. In other news, I’ve decided on a new name: Cobalt Crescent!

TIL the Hero’s Shade is 190.5 cm tall. Adult Link in OOT is 170 cm tall. I accidentally put adult CC Link exactly halfway between those two extremes. I’m not making him any taller than that– no way in hell is Link going to be as tall as Hanneman and Raphael .

Chapter XII

Sylvain Jose Gautier was normally cheery enough. He could typically be found chatting up girls– which was something I could never understand, personally. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I was currently physically twelve, but even in the future… past… mess, when I had to deal with Malon, Ruto, Nabooru, and Zelda, I had never felt romantically interested in any of them. Not to say I didn’t like them, of course! Maybe it was just a me thing. I had always felt no more close to them than I had with Darunia or Saria, who were my Sworn Brother and best friend slash mom, respectively. Not counting Navi.

Regardless, seeing Sylvain lost in thought, all alone, was decidedly not normal.

“Dumped again?” I felt I had to ask.

“Hey, give me some credit. Usually I’m the one doing the dumping,” the redheaded student grinned goodnaturedly. “Actually, no. It’s something else. Maybe I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“I hear that from everyone and I’m sick of it. Let me guess– it had to do with you guys’ trip to Conand Tower in Fraldarius, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“You seem awfully unsure,” I noted. “Talk to me.”

“Okay, fine.” Sylvain shrugged before putting his hand back on the base of his neck. “You know about my brother, right?”

Sylvain had a brother? That was news to me. “No, I didn’t know that you had any siblings. Prince Dimitri never mentioned anyone from your family other than you.”

“Older brother, yeah. Miklan. Because he didn’t have a Crest and for… other reasons, he was disowned from House Gautier,” he revealed. I had heard from Dimitri a long time ago that House Gautier was unique, in that one required a Crest to become head of the house. While sovereignty usually went to whichever child had a Crest in other regions of Faerghus, House Gautier necessitated the Crest of Gautier to defend Faerghus against Sreng by virtue of wielding the Lance of Ruin. “He turned to banditry, and… it was his group of thieves we were sent to eliminate.”

Oh. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. He wasn’t my brother anymore– he’s no more related to me than he is to you. That’s not what’s eating me. He stole the Lance of Ruin–” The Hero’s Relic of House Gautier– “and when he tried to use its power against us… it transformed him into a…” Sylvain waved his hands around wildly in a vain effort to find the right words. “Black Beast.”

“What?” I tilted my head.

“Yeah.”

“That’s…” Do you have any input on this?

It is the normal reaction to attempting to use the power of a Relic without its accompanying Crest. Nabatean bones require Nabatean blood. I didn’t know what to make of that.

“Is there anything I can… do?” I finished lamely.

“Nah. It’ll be fine. Eventually.”

~~~

Nervousness did not become me. It did not. I was action and reaction– Hyrule and Termina had proven such to me. Back then, if I hesitated for even a moment, I would not have a moment more. Death would be my only recompense.

So why did I feel so antsy, sitting in this empty room?

Maybe it was the fact that it was Seteth’s office. Maybe it was the fact that I had been summoned here, on the thirty-first of the Verdant Rain Moon, without any explanation or reasons. Maybe it was that Seteth simply wasn’t present. Maybe it was some combination of all three. Whatever it was… it was driving me mad.

With a loud bang, the door burst open, I turned in my seat to see the Nabatean stride into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He was certainly looking worse for wear than usual– his hair was somewhat askew, a single bead of sweat was rolling down his face, and there was a look of such profound worry that I was utterly taken aback. At least my upstairs neighbor was happy with the current state of affairs.

“Do you have,” Cichol hissed, “ any idea why you are here?”

We have been compromised, my upstairs neighbor asserted tersely. You must act. Now!

“I admit that I don’t,” I said evenly, subtly shifting onto the edge of the seat in case I had to flee for my life. I wasn’t siding with with the Crestwraith that I had bonded with, but in case it was right, I had to secure my own safety. “Is something wrong?”

“‘Is something wrong’,” Seteth repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. “My little sister has gone missing and you have the nerve to ask me if something is wrong?”

My blood ran as cold as ice. Flayn had disappeared? Why? And how? Katáktisi, for its part, was entirely gleeful at this news, but I shoved it as far down into my consciousness as I could manage. I did not agree with that assessment. I did not. “Sir, I fail to see how I– Mr Seteth, do you suspect me because of what happened at the Goddess Tower?”

His hands were coiled into fists so tightly that I could have sworn it was drawing blood.

“Seteth, I would never .”

“After the threat you made–”

“Do you realize your own hypocrisy?” I shouted, Katáktisi’s words mixing with my own. “What I did to Flayn that day, you are doing to me right now!”

It was as though the Nabatean had just been struck by lightning, he was so shocked. “What?”

“You’re lashing out at me because you don’t have all the answers! Because someone hurt you and you don’t know where else to turn, so you bare your fangs at the first person who comes to mind! You know I’m right, C–” I caught myself before I could let his true name slip through my teeth. “Seteth, please listen to me. I am furious that someone would dare to kidnap your sister. I want to bring whoever did this to justice just as much as you . I have poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this monastery since you sent me the offer to come here. Do you want proof, Seteth? Do you want justification that I would not harm a hair upon her head?” 

I rummaged in my pouch for a moment, digging out the garland Flayn had made for me months ago and all but throwing it at her father. The petals had long since wilted, but the shape remained more or less intact. “She made me this in the first week of the Garland Moon. As a show of friendship, because she was concerned about my ‘dour demeanor’. She…” I chuckled a little, my passionate defense deflating slightly. “She didn’t know that it was really for romantic partners, but–”

Seteth gingerly picked up the garland. His gaze softened at the work of his own flesh and blood. “I… you are right. It was callous of me to immediately accuse you in this manner. I am sorry for reevaluating your character on the basis of a single incident.”

“Don’t forgive me,” I said, surprising both Seteth and myself, not to mention the voice inside my head. “Save it for when– not if– we find her. Then we can all forgive each other for what happened on the tower that day.”

A weary smile crossed Cichol’s face. “You are much more mature than many give you credit for, Link.”

“It’s infuriating,” I laughed weakly, relieved that this horrible thing was over. “I’ll help search for Flayn in any way I can. I admit, I’ve been purposely avoiding both you and your sister since that incident, so I can’t help much in that regard. Where have you looked?”

“I have looked in every corner of the monastery and found neither hair nor hide of her,” Seteth said, his knuckles whitening. “I will be dispatching the Knights to search the town. We know that she hasn’t left Garreg Mach– and she is not the sort of person to just wander off without telling me where she is going!” His worry was growing with every word. “And on top of that, there are the rumors–”

“Of the Death Knight, I know,” I interjected. “I overheard it from some residents in Remire. But the Death Knight has been around ever since the attack on the Holy Mausoleum. If kidnapping Flayn was his main goal, instilling fear in town and around Garreg Mach would be counterproductive.”

“That is true, but it is not an impossibility. Flayn’s blood is… special. There are those who would use it for evil. That is why, if there is even a grain of truth present in a lead, it must be investigated. We do not have the time to waste on anything less.”

“What’s so special about the Major Crest of Cethleann?” I blurted. 

Seteth looked up sharply. “How do you know about her Crest?”

Watch your tongue, Katáktisi admonished. He does not know of our connection yet, I admit. That is no excuse to give the Nabatean any excuse to suspect it.

“Uhh… Hanneman mentioned it in a lecture?” It was probably true, and very much in-character for the old Crest scholar.

The headmaster grumbled to himself. “No matter. Please do not spread that knowledge.” I mimed zipping my mouth closed, locking it, and then throwing away the key. “Thank you.”

~~~

It was truly as though the once-Saint Cethleann had vanished into thin air.

I still did monastery work by day, and delegated searching time to the night hours. But it had been nearly three days since I had learned of her disappearance and there was still no sign of her. Neither hair nor hide of Flayn had been found. The entire Officer’s Academy had been put on high alert, and it was the Blue Lions’ special mission for the month to find her.

It was nearing midnight now, and I was passing by the library. A single candlelight gave me pause. Could it be a lead? Silently, I drew my Gilded Sword from its sheath, the faintest slithering of steel on steel the only sound in the dead night.

“Who’s there?” Dimitri’s voice echoed. “Reveal yourself!” It was coming from… inside the library. I breathed out a sigh of relief and put my sword back where it belonged.

“It’s just me, Dima,” I announced. I peered into the gloom to see what he had been doing. Was he… reading a book? “Sorry for startling you… I don’t think you’re going to find Flayn in those pages.”

“I was just… doing some research of my own,” Dimitri revealed. I inched into the light and peered over his shoulder. It appeared to be some incredibly boring records of church donations? What on earth could that have to do with anything? 

“Anyone in particular that you’re looking at?”

Dimitri was about to respond, but we were cut off by the sound of voices in the dark.

“Candlelight… and who is that?” The voice was low and smooth, like mahogany. I instantly recognized it as Dedue.

“Is it Flayn and the Death Knight?” This voice was higher, but somehow more clipped and sharp. It took me a moment to place it as Byleth’s. I was, of course, chagrined that I would be mistaken for Flayn on account of my height.

“No, it isn’t. Impossible…”

“Professor, Dedue,” Dimitri greeted, walking towards the duo after hastily stuffing the book back in its place. I had seen a glimpse of the page, and there wasn’t anything interesting on it. “What are you up to at this hour?”

“Your Highness! My apologies.”

“Oh, none necessary. I’m sorry for startling you, I was just doing some research… but I’m just about finished. I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. We had better head back to our quarters, Dedue. Until tomorrow, professor.” Lord and vassal assimilated into the gloom.

Byleth turned to me. “What was Dimitri doing?”

I shrugged. “Looking at a book of noble church donations or something? Really boring stuff, if I’m completely honest.”

“Why were you up so late?”

“Why were you up so late, huh?” I countered. “I’m not a baby, I can stay up however late I please. Really, I’m looking for Flayn. Having an extra eight to twelve hours gives me lots of time to search at hours where not a lot of people are doing so. I just might see something that nobody else would.”

Byleth shrugged. “I appreciate your doggedness, but you’re not going to see much if you don’t get your rest. You’re aware of your own limits, though, just… don’t go overboard.”

“Going overboard is what I’m best at, but I’ll try.”

~~~

For some reason, I had gone back to the library. The students were stuck in lectures, so the amount of us who could search for Flayn was greatly limited.

“I never did ask you how the mock battle went,” ‘Tomas’ mentioned. “I understand if your memory fails you– my memory fails me too often for me to judge.”

“No, it’s alright,” I replied cheerily. I felt more at ease around ‘Tomas’ than I did with other members of the Church. Maybe it was just his friendly, approachable demeanor. Maybe it was the fact that he was secretly Agarthan, and certainly on Katáktisi’s side. Of course, I never let my guard completely down, or alluded to the fact that I was any more than a host for my upstairs neighbor in any way. For my own safety. “I’m sure you know that the Blue Lions won, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“As opposed to charging directly into the fray like Prince Dimitri would have, Professor Byleth covered the flanks, waited for the Golden Deer and Black Eagles to start fighting amongst each other while bolstering the strength of the Blue Lions, and then triumphantly destroyed them both by wedging their entire house between them onto the front lines.”

“That sounds simply incredible! I wish I could have seen it for myself, but these old bones aren’t what they used to be…” Tomas shrugged. “Did you come in for any particular reason?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “Just needed a load off for the search for Flayn.”

The librarian blinked. “Flayn is missing?”

Now it was my turn to be surprised. Flayn’s disappearance had been the talk of the monastery for at least a week now. “You didn’t know? It’s been almost two weeks. Yeah, she’s gone and nobody knows how. Leading theory is that she’s been kidnapped.”

“My goodness! I will help in any way I can. I believe I last saw her… just over two weeks ago by the pond. I wish I could be of more help to the investigation. That girl has always been a curious one…”

“Don’t feel bad, ‘Tomas’. Every little bit counts,” I encouraged, a winning smile on my face.

“Of course, of course. While you are here, could I be of use to you?”

“Hmm… could you tell me a little more about this history of the Church? The earlier, the better.”

“I would be happy to, Link. You see…”

~~~

“You’re strange.”

I turned from what I was doing. “Tell me something I don’t know, Felix.”

We were on the training grounds, of course– I barely saw the scion of Fraldarius anywhere else. I was just performing training weapon upkeep, minding my own business, and then this edgelord decides I’m the weird one. Granted, he wasn’t wrong, but…

“Care to train with me?”

“That’s a high honor, coming from you. First time we fought, you couldn’t stand me. I believe your exact words were…” I cleared my throat, preparing my best Felix impersonation. “‘That was pathetic. Whoever trained you did a horrible job.’ I have to say, that stung.”

“My assessment stands,” he drawled, pouring lemon juice on the wound. “But I guess fighting with the boar all the time will give anyone some modicum of skill. Besides, you can’t possibly be less useful than these dummies.”

“I’m flattered.” I strolled aside him and brandished a training sword. “Have at you.”

Faster than I could blink, we had both pounced, flashes of silver and sharp clangs permeating the empty training grounds. Felix swiped at my chest, which I ducked beneath before trying to land a strike on his lower torso. The attack was blocked, of course, but that only served as a distraction for me to land a punch on his face with my off hand. When my opponent reared back, more in surprise than pain, I lunged, throwing my blade downward with as much force as my infantile form could manage. He managed to get out of the way, counterattacking with a powerful horizontal chop. I blocked it with the Mirror Shield– I didn’t remember taking that out. Maybe my memory was failing me like ‘Tomas’ said his was earlier.

That momentary lapse in judgement was enough for Felix to get around my guard, scoring a glancing strike on my right shoulder. I used his somewhat awkward angle to land my own blade on the side of his calf. But my opponent had landed the first real hit. Touchè.

“Why do you call Dimitri a boar?” I huffed, my breath slightly haggard from the exertion.

“Because that’s what he is,” Felix said. “He dresses up as a man with a friendly smile, but that is not his true face. You wouldn’t know it– he showed what sort of creature he is before you showed up, and had time to slink back into hiding.”

“Was that–”

“During the revolt of 1178, yeah.”

I had learned quite a lot about western Faerghus, both from cultural assimilation in Fhirdiad and from my time in the Officer’s Academy. Having a house assigned to deal with a western lord’s rebellion would do that to you. In the winter of 1178, Prince Dimitri had been assigned to quell an uprising in Rowe. I wasn’t entirely sure what they were rising up for. Maybe it had to do with the Western Church. Maybe it had to do with not liking Duke Rufus’ rule. Maybe it had to do with not liking Dimitri. Maybe it had to do with Duscur, as so many things seemed to tie back to nowadays. Whatever it was, it had been ugly– and bloody, to boot. We had later learned that Dimitri was intended to have been killed there by some malicious party, but somehow he had, well, not. Obviously. Dedue thought it was Duke Rufus, but we didn’t know for sure. It was on the way back to the capital from there that I had stumbled upon that motley crew after stumbling out of the Perpendicularity. “And you think that’s his real face?”

“It was too manic to not be genuine,” Felix scowled. “A question for you– during the attack on the Holy Mausoleum, and during the house training session, you had other tools. Weapons that were strange and spells that weren’t… anything I’d heard of or seen. Why haven’t you ever used them elsewhere? Why didn’t you use them against me? They would make you stronger.”

This was easy enough to answer. “I want to be on an even playing field with those around me–”

“For what? Honor? Chivalry?” Felix spat, as though the words were poison. “All that does is beget the worship and glorification of death. What really matters is growing stronger so that you may live, and living so that you may grow stronger. You would do well to throw that abhorrent notion away before it poisons you as well.”

I sighed. “You misunderstand me. I care less for proper knighthood than protecting and fighting for those I care about. How am I supposed to grow stronger if my every victory stems from my arsenal of ‘strange weapons’? That’s not strength, just dependence.

“You asked me a long time ago who trained me. I’m self-taught, Felix. You had the luxury of being able to train for your entire life. You held a blade for years before you took your first life. But me? I was given a sword at age ten and was told ‘try not to die’.”

If the expert swordsman was stunned, he would have done an excellent job of hiding it were it not for the slight pursing of his lips and the widening of his eyes.

“Yes. I may not be quite as physically strong as, say, you or any of your comrades,” I continued. “But don’t mistake that for lack of discipline or interest. Every technique I know was taught to me by pain and punishment, on threat of death. Not to mention the fact that–” the foes I faced would have crushed you underfoot. All of Fodra would have collapsed under their weight, because the tools needed to face them were the antithesis of what anyone that can be found on the continent has to offer. Ganondorf and Majora would have wiped the floor with you, the same as they would have beaten Dimitri or Claude or Edelgard or Rhea.

“Alright, fine,” Felix interjected. “For someone who’s only held a blade for two years, you’re fairly skilled.” It was significantly more than two years– almost three years now, now that I thought about it– but I held my tongue. “And I can respect your refusal to use those other things.” He pointed his sword at me in a silent challenge. “Let’s do this again. And I want to clarify– I want you to use everything . I want to see what you’re capable of at your very best.”

Does that mean–

No, Katáktisi. Absolutely not.

Fine.

“I can’t promise that,” I admitted. “Some of these, like my bombs, do far too much environmental damage to be suitable for a spar.” That includes you, Katáktisi. “Enough of them could collapse the monastery– and besides, I only have forty of them and I can’t figure out where to buy more. I might run out. But I’ll use what I can.” I was already digging in my pouch as subtly as I could. Felix’s lips curled as he tightened his grip on his blade, and thrust–

A blast of wind tickled my hair, as I threw myself to the side and directly into a warp point formed by a fresh casting of Farore’s Wind. I had been doing some workshopping with it in my spare time, and had figured out not only how to use it outside of ‘dungeons’, but to make it more versatile as well. I could duck through either end of the spell and pop out the other as much as I pleased within a couple minute’s duration. However, it took a lot out of me, mana-wise.

Felix, expecting far more resistance than he got, flew straight between the two portals just as I popped out of the other one. Since I was now behind him, I was able to whirl and clock him on the back of the head. He stumbled, and as he spun to face me, I caught him with the blinding flash of a Deku Nut. Sheik would have been so proud of me.

Not to be outdone, the Faerghusian executed a furious flurry of blows, most of which I was fortunately able to block with my shield. Still, he did not let up. I hunkered down more, forced onto the backfoot, trying to think of a way out of this situation that wasn’t capable of leveling the immediate surroundings. I sidestepped a thrust and managed to bash my shield into his upper abdominal. That gave me enough time to back up and fire an arrow wreathed in frigid malice at his feet, causing his boots to freeze to the ground. Now that he couldn’t move, it should be easy.

Felix Hugo Fraldarius jumped straight out of his boots. His free hand pushed into my chest, but I remained standing despite the force. I slid backwards, but my lips curled into a grin as I felt the tip of my training sword dig into his stomach. He stopped, the pressure in his belly signaling the end of this bout.

Felix’s expression didn’t change as the reality of what had happened sunk in. I was still processing it, myself. Me, winning? I probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was. “I’ve been bested,” he admitted. “I’ll admit– when you brought everything to bear, you weren’t completely horrible.”

“I’ll take it,” I rejoiced. “Hey– could we keep doing this kind of thing every now and again? I want to at least draw with you without relying on something else’s strength.”

“You want to be my sparring partner? Alright, I’ll allow it.”

~~~

1: e4

I liked e4. Most people who played chess in Fodra played in those positions, so there was a lot of knowledge around them that I could assimilate even while working. Unfortunately, there was a lot less writing around for Lorenz’s response, 1… c5.

“How do the knights move again?”

“Two-forward, one to either side.”

“And they can jump over other pieces, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Thanks.” 

Well, I was officially in unknown territory, so I should probably support a pawn coming to d4 with the move 2: c3.  Lorenz responded with his own pawn push, 2… d5 

3: exd5 … Qxd5. And I couldn’t even attack the black queen. What a scam. Might as well bring out my other pieces.

4: Nf3 … Nc6 

5: Bb5 … e5

I thought for a moment. Qe2 looked good– wait, actually I didn’t like the positioning of his most powerful piece. I should probably kick it out.

6: c4 … Qd6

7: Nc3 … Nf6 

8: d3 … Bd6

I had no idea what I was doing. Might as well keep my king safe. I had only played a couple of games of chess before, and all of them involved me losing to Lysithea in less than ten moves. I had endeavoured to study the game to ensure that would never happen again. Yeah, Katáktisi had been complaining the entire time, but using it felt like cheating so I had told it to stay out of it.

9: O-O … Be7 

10: Bg5 … O-O 

Yeah, I’d just get rid of the knight. 11: Bxf6 … Bxf6 

12: Re1… a6 

13: Bxc6 13: … Bxc6. I had read that having both bishops was generally good, but I really hadn’t had much of a choice.

14: Ne4 … Bxe4. Well, that made my life easier. 

15: Rxe4 … Rad8. 

How should I defend… 16: Ne1 … Rfe8 

17: Qc2 … b5 

18: cxb5 … axb5 

19: Rc1 … Rc8. Didn’t want to lose my pawn. 

20: b3 … Bg5 

21: Rd1 … Red8 

22: Qe2 … c4

Hm, which pawn to take with… I could take the c-pawn with either the b or d pawn– well, taking with the d-pawn would be bad because then he could easily take my rook. I couldn’t really see the difference between the two. Oh wait– Lorenz had blundered his e-pawn! 

23: Rxe5 … Bf4 

Uh… 24:Rh5. That was terrible, Katáktisi admonished. 

Why? I shot back hotly.

24: … Rd7. That’s why.

It’s fine, I have 25: Qf3, there’s no checkmate, and everything is fine. I think. 25: … cxd3

I could take that pawn with the knight, but honestly I didn’t like my rook that was stranded on the edge of the board. Fortunately, I could play 26: Rd5, attacking Lorenz’ queen, forcing it to move away. Then I could take the pawn.

The scion of Gloucester looked at the board for a couple of minutes, before gingerly sliding his pawn forward one square. 26: … d2

I stared at the board in silence, trying to unravel the layers of stupidity on display. That just… confidently hung a queen on the gibbet. I could just take on d6 and be up a queen. Or could I? If I took his queen, Lorenz’s rook on e8 would capture my knight, and because it was protected by the pawn it would be checkmate. I couldn’t take with the d1 rook because then it would stop defending the knight, and if I took with the other rook, the queen could simply take back. My d1 rook was multitasking and couldn’t perform too many duties– just like somebody I knew. My only option was to move the knight and let his queen escape.

27: Nc2 was better because then when his queen left I could just take the– 27: … Rxc2.

He just… left the queen there. And I still couldn’t take it because of checkmate problems! My only solution was to play 28: g3 to at least get some extra material out of all of this.

You’ve already lost.

Shut up.

28: … Re1. If I took back with the rook, he would be able to promote to a queen and that was bad. Why was I thinking so hard about this when I should probably be searching for Flayn right now? 

29: Kg2 … Rxd1

He forgot about his queen?!

30: Rxd6 … Rg1+. Oh, it didn’t matter, because he would just take my rook with his bishop and then promote. Ugh, that was annoying. I decided, reluctantly, that I was very much doomed. I tipped my king over in the universal sign of surrender. “Good game.”

“It is only natural, after all, that the noble should win this most noble of games,” Lorenz stated with an uptight chuckle. I could feel the tips of my ears heating up behind the cover of my hair. Rude.

~~~

The state of alert that the monastery was currently in did not change the fact that jobs needed to be done. And right now, the horse stalls needed cleaning out. Somewhat surprisingly, one of the students was there. A Golden Deer, if I recalled correctly, but I think the only time I had ever seen her was at the mock battle, and I had certainly never heard the sound of her voice. She was meticulously running a brush along the horse’s side, talking to him with clear affection. I guessed I wasn’t the only one who talked to animals. I had talked to Epona all the time during Hyrule and Termina, even if I knew she couldn’t understand. It was somewhat cathartic. I didn’t want to disturb her, so I didn’t announce my presence. I idly started humming Epona’s Song as I worked, that damned longing striking once again. To this day, I was flabbergasted that some primal part of me wanted nothing more than to abscond from Fodra and go back to Hyrule. Or Termina. There was nothing left for me there. So why did I want that so desperately? I had more friends here than I had ever had back home, and I had a place in this world and its order.

“Oh, um… I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were… there…”

“I’m the one who should apologize for disturbing you,” I replied flatly. “Please, bear me no mind.”

I turned to face the girl. The first thing I noticed was the sunken bags underneath her eyes. Yikes, and people told me I was sleep-deprived. Distantly, I wondered what on earth was haunting her. Was it as nightmarish as Termina? I felt some kind of… kinship.

“I would hate to, um, inconvenience you…”

Someone get this girl a tall cup of coffee. “You are doing the opposite of inconveniencing me, miss…”

“M-Marianne.”

“Marianne. I’m Link. It’s nice to meet you.”

We continued our work in silence.

“So, what’s eating you?”

She froze. “H-huh?”

“Seems like you’ve got a lot on your mind. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak until today.”

“I’m sorry, I… it’s nothing.”

Crest?

Katáktisi said nothing for a moment. Hers is the Crest of the Bestial One. Maurice.

Maurice? That name was unfamiliar to me, and I had done quite a lot of research both in Fhirdiad and at Garreg Mach on these things.

As you should already know, Crests are stolen Nabatean blood. Nemesis and his Ten Elites consumed the blood of the fallen to gain their Crests. At one time, there was an eleventh Elite– Maurice. He was consumed by his Relic shortly after I was forged.

Like Miklan? Wait… if Crests are Nabatean blood, then who–

Were their originators? I know not their names, only that they were of Nabatea. They were dead before my time. Although the Crest of Flames…

That’s the one that Professor Byleth has, right? The one from Nemesis?

Correct. I am… uncertain of it. Either my creators had some hand in her creation, or… It trailed off. I did not pry.

I elected to not bring up Maurice right now. She most likely knew, and I didn’t want to scare her. “Well, talking to Dorte– that is his name, right? Talking to him seems to lift your spirits. I used to talk to horses too, before I realized they couldn’t talk back.” I laughed a bit at my own little joke. Marianne did not join in.

~~~

“So Professor Manuela ran off with Professor Jeritza’s mask?” Dimitri was saying as I entered the Blue Lions classroom. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen either in a hot minute… “I have a bad feeling about this… we must find them both at once! Professor Jeritza would either be on the training grounds or his quarters. The latter can be found–”

“On the eastern side of the–” I interjected, before being interrupted in turn. To be fair, I kind of deserved it.

“Professor! Your Highness!” Ingrid yelled as she sprinted full tilt into the lecture hall, almost bowling over Annette like a stray barrel. She had clearly run all the way from the other side of the knight’s hall, judging by her breath. “I just heard a scream! In Professor Jeritza’s quarters!”

There was no need for further elaboration. Soon enough, the whole house was marching at maximum speed towards that exact location. When we arrived, the room seemed completely undisturbed… or at least it would have, were it not for Manuela’s unconscious body in the middle of the room, limbs outstretched. Having lived at the monastery for almost a year now, I reluctantly had to admit that this wasn’t the most unfamiliar sight. 

“Isn’t that…” Dima gasped. “Professor Manuela!” To be entirely frank, I was just glad I wasn’t on Manuela Duty today. If something like this happened under my watch, I would never be able to forgive myself. Even now, I couldn’t help but feel that I should have been able to aid her.

“Professor Manuela! Please wake up!” Annette hollered. “Professor Manuela!”

“Is she… dead?” Byleth asked, voice disturbingly flat.

“Normally I’d bet a red Rupee she’s just drunk,” I said, trying to defuse the tension in the room, “but something tells me this is hardly normal. I can get her to the infirmary…” I approached the body, but balked at the stench of iron. “Yup, that’s definitely blood.”

“She’s not dead,” Dimitri said, “she’s just unconscious. But that wound requires immediate attention!” The crown prince moved to aid me in lifting the body. I probably could have done it on my own– Professor Manuela wasn’t that heavy, and being a Goron for a while had definitely rubbed off on me– but I appreciated the help nonetheless.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Ashe interjected. “Do you see–”

“Professor Manuela’s hand?” Annette finished. “It’s like she’s pointing at something…” Dedue, who happened to be standing on that side of her body by the wall, followed the finger towards a shelf inconspicuously standing in front of the rightmost wall. With a simple push, it was revealed that Jeritza had hidden a secret tunnel in his quarters. Why?

“Could that be a secret–”

“What is the meaning of…” Professor Hanneman’s voice pierced the atmosphere. What was with today and people getting cut off? “Wait, is that Manuela? What happened here? We must take her to the infirmary! You!” He pointed directly at the house leader. “Don’t just stand there! Help me carry her!”

“Of course,” Dimitri agreed. “I’ll return shortly, Professor.” He and Hanneman got underneath the other teacher’s prone form, the older Professor taking my spot. Together, they carried her out of the room with all the swiftness they could provide.

“Do you think this is related to Flayn’s disappearance?” Annette asked. “It must be, right?”

“What should we do, Professor?” Dedue demanded.

“Let’s investigate.”

“It looks dark… uh… dark in there,” the team black mage groaned, peering into the black abyss.

“Aw, you’ve always been scared of dark places, haven’t you, Annie?” Mercedes observed. “But don’t worry! The professor and I will protect you.”

“There are sounds coming from within. If we’re going to investigate, now is the time.”

“Count me in, too,” I said. “If Flayn could be down there, we’ve gotta look into it.” And so, it was decided.

~~~

Eventually, the darkness gave way to an underground passage, dimly illuminated with torches on the walls. It was humid and muggy, floors damp with some unholy residue. The smell was… not the greatest, either.

“What is this place? It’s so…” Annette trailed off. “ Bah! I see someone! I think… they’re unconscious!” I peered through the gloom, but could not see any such person. What on earth was she looking at?

Apparently, I was the only one who was struggling in this regard. “Is it Flayn?” Byleth asked.

“Yes! I see Flayn!” Ingrid confirmed. “But who is that… other person? I perked up slightly. Other person? Who on earth could that be referring to?

My sensitive ears could pick up the sound of the clanking of ironclad footsteps moments before everyone else. “Professor!” Annette warned before I could say anything. “Someone’s coming from farther within!” Then I saw it. Those glowing red eyes, those crimson trails, those huge horns… it was the Death Knight, and there was no doubt in my mind. I withdrew my sword and kept my grip tight. “That scythe… is that the knight who attacked the Holy Mausoleum?”

“That sword… you must be…” The Death Knight snarled, trailing off and picking up again at a complete non sequitur. “One of us will die, the other will live. I will enjoy this dance of damnation.”

In a flash of violet, he was gone. I could feel his hatred through the walls. He had retreated, but we would be seeing more of him before the day was done. Son of a Moblin was gloating right now, I knew it. My musings were cut off by the sound of more footsteps, not as heavily armored. The Death Knight was not alone.

“That knight looks like death itself,” Dedue observed. Wow, it was almost as though that was literally its name. “We must rescue Flayn immediately. Although… there’s something strange about the flooring at the end of the corridor.”

“Warp tiles,” Byleth said. “Like Warp Cannons, but worse. Ashe, Annette– Take the flank on the right side. The rest of us will go left.”

They both stepped on the ‘warp point’ and disappeared. The rest of us– Dedue, Felix, Sylvain, Mercedes, Ingrid, Byleth, and myself– dashed down the corridor, weapons at the ready. Hang on, hang on– when in Fodra did Ingrid get a pegasus ? She was not on one of those five minutes ago. Sylvain being on a horse, I could kind of understand– Epona’s Song did basically the same thing for me back in Hyrule and Termina– but a pegasus? Down here? Inconceivable!

Our front smashed into their first line of defense. They were all wearing gray and red. The Death Knight’s colors were black and, well, more black… could it be that they were unaffiliated? Or worse— could the Death Knight be just a subordinate to someone greater?

I shot a Fire arrow straight through the visor of an armored knight, cooking him in his own suit like a crustacean. This gave Felix the opportunity to backstab an archer who was aiming at Dedue. The Duscurian was busy engaging with a soldier which would have otherwise targeted Mercedes. Sylvain was off bullying another archer so that they couldn’t shoot Ingrid– apparently, fliers were especially vulnerable to arrows. Professor Byleth was currently simultaneously fending off yet another archer and puzzling over how to take down the other six or so enemies in the following chamber.

When the last of them stopped moving, we pushed forward. I quickly healed Dedue so that Mercedes wouldn’t have to worry about him for a moment. I managed to get out into the fray third, after Ingrid and Sylvain of course. I threw my Mirror Shield directly into the face of a nearby Myrmidon, preventing him from flanking Sylvain by attracting his attention towards me. Before he could react, I was already plunging my blade into his flesh. My mind went blank for a moment. Not out of shock– I had long been desensitized to death by Hyrule and Termina. No, there was some… horrid momentum pushing me forward. Forcing me to move when I could not. The only sound was Katáktisi roaring in my ears, pushing me beyond what should have been possible, screaming for more, more, more .

There was a sound like the rushing of wind, although it could have been my imagination. Before I processed what had happened, I had cleanly decapitated an enemy mage, spurts of blood splashing onto my face and seeping into my clothes. I ignored it. I pushed forward, a blast of Din’s Fire immolating a third enemy. For victory.

The rest of the house came flooding in afterwards– minus Dimitri, Ashe, and Annette, of course. But whatever bloodlust had overcame me for a moment, it left little for the rest of them to do. For a half-moment, everything was still when the last of them fell. There was only us, the enemy still beyond, and a grate separating the two of us.

“This one had a key,” Felix pointed out, jogging over and jamming it into the lock. The gate was torn asunder, and the Sword of the Creator was outstretched– literally, as the sword doubled as a flail. An armored knight was felled with little fanfare. Not to be outdone, I Hookshotted forward, grabbing Mercedes’ hand so that we were both pulled to the other wall.

“My goodness!” she exclaimed, surprised, but she recovered quickly enough to finish off the spearman I had stunned with a well-aimed Nosferatu. The house veered left, ignoring two archers on the right, and pushing into the almost-final antechamber. It was more or less empty save for three more mages, who immediately began slinging fire spells at us. I held up my Mirror Shield to block, but a volley of arrows and sharpened wind struck them, distracting them for long enough for Sylvain and Ingrid to close the distance and cut them down. Who was it but Ashe and Annette! It was good to see that they were both still safe and sound. They certainly looked worse for wear, but it was nothing a couple Heals couldn’t patch up. There probably weren’t as many enemies in the tighter corridors as there had been for us.

“One room left,” I commented. “They must be in there.”

I shoved the door open, and lo, I was right. It was just the Death Knight, a couple other soldiers… and Flayn… and…

Who was that red-haired girl? And why did she look so… familiar?

I turned my attention back to the main problem at hand. Katáktisi was quiet, with no commands to issue. The Death Knight stared down at us. I subconsciously put my hand over my chest, a phantom pain coursing along my ribs. I still remembered the sting of that scythe driven through my body, even if it hadn’t happened. Well, it had happened, of course. The flow of time was always cruel.

“Now, you will die together…” it emanated. “How joyous…”

It and its entourage closed the distance, weapons swinging. The rest of us lunged forward to meet him. Byleth, Sylvain, Felix, and Dedue engaged with the masked cavalier directly. Ashe, Annette, and Mercedes hung back and provided covering fire. Ingrid and I fanned out around the Death Knight, dealing with the others before closing in on the final target. Even though we had him surrounded, the creature just… wouldn’t… die.

“Gonna need you to move!” Sylvain shouted, throwing his horse forward with a lunging stab. The Death Knight, unsurprisingly, moved. Sylvain’s arm would have been lopped off were it not for a last-minute Deku Nut providing a convenient distraction. I darted back to avoid a counterattack, Katáktisi’s demands now omnipresent. I obeyed them without thinking, knowing that if I hesitated, the Death Knight would surely gut me where I stood. As someone who had gone through that once before, I didn’t particularly want it to happen again. Shocker.

A blast of wind magic pushed its mount ever so slightly, throwing off the Death Knight’s aim just enough for me to duck underneath its swing. I thrust with the Gilded Sword, but the creature was quick enough to lock my blade and cast it aside. I fumbled for a moment before drawing the Great Fairy’s Sword, knowing it wasn’t that great for defensive purposes. Still, it was better than nothing.

“Your life ends!” it screamed, drawing its weapon back for a killing blow. I tried to throw myself out of the way of the incoming attack, but it turned out to be unnecessary. I heard the crack of steel, as Dedue’s axe connected with the base of the Death Knight’s neck. From underneath, I could see a few strands of light brown hair coming forth.

The same shade as that of Mercedes.

The same shade as that of Jeritza.

No time to think about it now. As the Death Knight turned to face its new attacker, I reared up from behind, Great Fairy’s Sword high above my head, and brought it down across its back. When it whirled again to counterattack, Felix pounced, Ingrid following close behind. Almost before I could react, its scythe was spinning as it executed a flawless three hundred and sixty-degree attack… but as I backflipped out of danger, the Sword of the Creator locked around the weapon, halting the attack in its tracks as the scythe was flung away.

“Kill them,” it snarled, as though it wasn’t getting its posterior beaten into next Tuesday by a bunch of jacked schoolkids and a twelve-year-old.

“Halt. You’re having a bit too much fun,” another metallic voice ordered. The new arrival, who was definitely not there a couple of moments ago, was similarly masked. But instead of being garish black, this mask was white with splashes of artistic red paint. I immediately wanted it. From its head sprouted a great red plume trailing down its armored back. Beyond the feathers covering its shoulders, its design was rather similar to that of the Death Knight. They must have been accomplices.

“You are getting in the way of my game,” the Death Knight complained.

“Hmph. You’ll have more opportunities to play soon. Your work here is done.” That was… odd, but very much appreciated.

“Understood. I will go…”

The Death Knight disappeared, being teleported away somehow. The second masked individual turned to us. “We will cross paths again,” it announced in a low voice. “I am the Flame Emperor… It is I who will reforge the world.”

And then he, too, was gone.

“Flame Emperor and the Death Knight?” Mercedes repeated. “I have to say, they both looked very dangerous.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” I replied. “We got through the latter pretty well on our own.”

“Where did they go?” Ingrid wondered. “It doesn’t matter. We need to get these two out of here.” I glanced at the two bodies. There were two of them– Flayn and, um, someone else. Someone with vibrant red hair. Someone that definitely felt… vaguely familiar. But I couldn’t place from where.

“Bring them up,” ordered Dedue. And so, it was done. 

~~~

“Thank goodness. Those girls are pale as ghosts, but at least they’re alive,” Mercedes exclaimed. “But that Death Knight person… feels so familiar…”

“It was Jeritza,” I said. “When Dedue struck him with his axe, part of the mask broke. I saw a little bit of his hair.”

Mercedes didn’t respond.

“You found Flayn? Thank goodness!” said Dimitri as he burst into the swords instructor’s former quarters. We had only just gotten out of there, ourselves.

“She was unconscious at the end of that secret passage. We found the culprit too… but he got away.”

“We almost had him,” Byleth said, smiling. I don’t think I’d ever seen her make any expression that wasn’t… blank before.

“I’m just grateful everyone is safe. That’s what matters most. I’d like to hear what transpired, but first we need to get these ladies to the infirmary.”

“Understood. We’ll go at once,” Dedue promised. And with that, the rest of the Blue Lion House was gone. The only ones who remained were me, Byleth, and Dimitri.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Professor. I’m so relieved, I suddenly felt weak.” He sure didn’t look like it. “I couldn’t be happier with how things turned out. And I imagine no one will be more overjoyed than Seteth.

“Hm? Hey, Professor… Can you make that expression one more time?”

“Um… like this?” She turned to face him properly, that smile restuck on her face. It looked utterly incongruous there.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face like that.” He laughed, which made me laugh at the sheer absurdity of the moment. “I apologize. I’ve forgotten myself and come dangerously close to teasing you. It’s just… I’ve never seen you look so happy before. It’s downright mesmerizing. But this isn’t a time for idle chit chat. We must hurry and share the good news with Seteth!”

Oh. Right. Seteth. Katáktisi grumbled, but there was nothing to be done about that.

Yay.

Review please!

CuddlyManaki (AO3): ‘Romance’ is defined by Merriam-Webster as ‘a medieval tale based on legend, chivalric love and adventure, or the supernatural’. It’s generally not how we think of ‘romance’, but I think it’s fairly applicable. You’re very welcome!

Backpack Bandit (FF): I’m a bit leery of ‘Golden Mask’ because a) I don’t want people going into the story thinking this is a ‘golden route’, and b) readers might get confused and think this is connected to Golden Wildfire. ‘Link and the Maiden of Time’ is definitely something I’ll have to give some thought!

XLilaXTheXSpecterX (AO3): Generally, I want to avoid treading the same ground in my works. I don’t know if I even will write anything after this; I’m only writing this story because my brain couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve sunk so much time into it now and it’s so chaotic and beautiful that I feel it deserves to be seen through to the end. Moreover, I feel that a lot of the White Clouds sections would be very similar to each other and to this, and I want all my works to feel unique,

HiIExist (FF): ‘Cobalt Crescent’ is definitely what I’m leaning towards; can’t quite decide between it and ‘Behind This Mask’. Thank you very much!

quadjot (AO3): Thank you!

kerrowe (FF): I wanted to convey, when designing Link’s stat block, that he was a very momentum-based fighter. He’s someone who, once he hits his stride, is entirely capable of just keeping on trucking until something physically stops him. I think it fits both mechanically and narratively. The Crest of Conquest and Celerity are designed to augment and highlight that.

Carlos Andres Araya (FF): I don’t really follow Death Battle, nor do I know anything about ‘Gust’, so I feel I wouldn’t be a good judge for this question. Thank you for your kind words!

DeathGoddess (AO3): It was on that day that Majora knew true fear for the first time. Thanks for all your support!

X from Aumsville (AO3): Very possible. I didn’t know that about the shops of Majora’s Mask– I’ve never actually played the game myself, only Ocarina of Time. I think part of the reason that AO3 got fewer reviews than FF in the beginning is because (especially in Three Houses) a fic has maybe four hours on the first page before being buried. By contrast, this story is almost always in the first four or five on FF, so it gets a lot more impressions. The ratio has balanced out a lot since then.

Equalized Enigma (FF): We can certainly hope.

DarthFlores (FF): The interesting part of Katáktisi is that, in a weird and counterintuitive way, it thinks it’s being a great influence on Link. It’s been programmed to believe ‘Agarthans good, Nabateans bad’ and wants to ensure that Link isn’t able to be manipulated by the likes of Rhea. Of course, last chapter was not its best look and I’m not going to pretend it is. Suffice to say that that event is a catalyst for quite a few things.

Chapter Text

I have become completely convinced that Link was the ghost mentioned in Ashe and Mercedes’ Three Hopes support. He used the Stone Mask to disappear as soon as Mercie entered the room. I will take this headcanon and raise it as my own child.

Chapter XIII

Seteth and Byleth were holed up in his office. He was probably expressing his eternal gratitude to the Blue Lions professor for her actions just a few minutes ago. While that was all well and good for him, it left me stuck waiting outside. I guess I still had Dimitri for company, who had decided to stick around for a bit just to hang out with me. That was nice of him.

“So, what’s up between you and the professor?” I asked.

“I am not sure what you mean, Link.”

“‘Hey, Professor,’” I mimicked. “‘Can you make that expression one more time?’ Come on, Dima, have some dignity.”

“Extradimensional though you may be, you are only twelve years old. I daresay your experience with the nuances of interpersonal relationships isn’t exactly fully formed.”

I pretended to be affronted. “This coming from the guy who gave a dagger to his girlfriend when he was two years older than I am now. And just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two about how romantic relationships work. Did I ever tell you the story about that time I got engaged to a fish?” The best part about bringing up random events from my past was that I could say them completely straight and people would just think I was a comedic genius. It was foolproof! Normally I would be much more wary about sharing any details from Hyrule and Termina, no matter how small. But since Dimitri already knew that I wasn’t from Fodra and wouldn’t tell anyone, I didn’t see the harm.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

I gave Dimitri my best unimpressed look.

”Saints, you’re being serious. How?”

“Suffice to say my home had both fish people and rock people. And before you ask– I did not get engaged to a rock. Thankfully.”

“That… does not answer my question.”

“It’s an absurdly long story involving the fattest man you’ve ever met, a diving carnival game, and being eaten by a giant whale. Among other things,” I said, my tone clipped. “Look, Dima, we’re in a public place. I’d rather not talk about my past right now.”

“I could ask the same of you when it comes to myself and Professor Byleth,” Dimitri replied, arms crossed.

“...”

“...”

…

“Yeah, that’s fair,” I conceded. We stood in amiable silence for a while. “Everything okay?”

Dimitri hesitated. “Of course. Yourself?”

I pursed my lips. “Same, really.”

The soft pitter-patter of footsteps made themselves known. I glanced down the hallway to see– Flayn? I thought she was still in recovery! But it was certainly her. There were no other green-haired children in the monastery, and I knew it. Katáktisi would have surely alerted me if we spotted any additional Nabateans. She silently stepped forward and put her hand on the doorhandle. Dimitri opened his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand for him to stay his tongue. She was too focused on going inside to acknowledge us. Very un-Flayn-like, I had to say.

“...blood have appeared, our only option is to leave the monastery and go into hiding,” I caught Seteth saying when the door opened. They were leaving? I had heard nothing about this! But–

“Brother, wait,” Flayn interjected. 

“Flayn?! What are you doing here? You should–” The door closed, cutting off the conversation.

“You really think they were going to leave the monastery?” I asked, trying to make conversation. “Seteth sounded serious, but…”

“Were you hoping for a different outcome?”

“I mean, kind of. I like Seteth. He’s… a good guy.” Katáktisi retched. What a baby.

“I agree, but after everything that’s happened this month, can you blame him?”

“No,” I admitted. After all, my upstairs neighbor could do enough blaming for the both of us. At that moment, the door creaked open again, and out Byleth stepped.

“Hello, Professor,” Dimitri greeted. “I was waiting with Link outside. Wouldn’t want him to stand here all alone.”

“How do you know Link?” the professor inquired.

“Did I never tell you this story?” Dimitri appeared surprised, but Felix’s words drifted unbidden back to me. ‘He dresses up as a man with a friendly smile, but that is not his true face.’ Was this not his true emotion? I thought it was, but I couldn’t quite tell. “In the winter of 1178– nearly a year and a half ago now– I found him wandering alone in a blizzard. I think he was even wearing the same clothes as he is now.”

“Guilty.”

“A blizzard? Wearing that?” Byleth looked at me flatly.

“The part of the Sacred Gwenhwyvar I lived in was normally temperate year-round,” I lied. “L-local weather phenomenon. If you’ll notice, this is one of Dimitri’s running themes– find someone to protect, and then protect them.” I shrugged. “Like with Dedue.”

“I thought that you were his bastard half-cousin,” she claimed, completely devoid of any emotion.

Dimitri and I nearly choked on the surprise. When the shock was over, I couldn’t help but find it absolutely hilarious. “I wish!” I laughed once I recovered. “Just because of the looks on people’s faces when I told them, ha ha ha… anyways…” I set my face into a perfectly neutral expression, any sense of mirth immediately drowned out of my features. “I have to talk to Seteth. You’lll have to excuse me.”

With silent footsteps, I entered the study. A pang of jealousy ripped through my entire being when I saw them embraced, not having noticed that I had entered. My upstairs neighbor jolted me out of whatever stupor I had found myself in, and I cleared my throat. The two Nabateans were quick to disengage, facing me.

“I made a promise at the end of last month,” I said, mostly to catch Flayn up to the situation. “To properly… explain myself, about, um, what happened at the Goddess Tower.”

“That is not necessary,” Flayn assured, eliciting a double take from both Seteth and me. “You asked me and my brother to overlook that incident, did you not?”

“I did, but…” I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Your brother took it as reason to suspect that I may have been the one to kidnap you.”

Immediately, Cethleann was upon her father. “Brother, seriously? Link could not have possibly been the mastermind behind my capture!”

“Yes, Flayn, hindsight is often clearer than crystal,” Seteth admitted. “At the time, however, my vision was clouded with worry. Still, if you do not wish to hear this explanation, then by all means, Link– you are not required to tell it.”

Must you continue this farce? Katáktisi sighed.

Shut up. This is something I need to do, I countered.

Listen, and listen well. I still do not approve of the relationship that currently exists between yourself and Cichol. In the end, you are and will be foes. Know that he will not hesitate to cut you down once he learns of our bond.

Well– I paused. Did I value Seteth’s camaraderie more, or Katáktisi’s? I had known Katáktisi for longer, but… Seteth was certainly friendlier. Even if he was pretty intimidating sometimes.

“No,” I said, resolute. “This is something I want to do.” I racked my brain for an adequate lie, every neuron firing in frenzied, meticulous harmony. “Back home, there was this… girl. Her name was– is Saria. She was the only person I could really call my friend. She was funny, and cheerful, and kind, so kind to everyone… almost to a fault, really.

“She wrote this song. She only taught it to her closest of friends… namely, me. I don’t know the specifics– she always was smarter than me– but somehow, it always managed to… make things better. I think there’s some ancient power in those notes, although it might just be nostalgia for sunnier days.” I bounced on the balls of my feet with nervous energy. “I only ever played her song at the top of the Goddess Tower, because nobody ever comes up there and it’s a bit embarrassing, to be honest. Because… see, it’s off limits to students, but they let us inside on cleaning duty. It was just a nice place to be alone to reminisce about someone very close to me, who I know I’ll never see again.”

“Oh my! Were you playing her song when I came to the peak of the Tower?”

“I would describe it more as ‘having a mental breakdown in her general direction’,” I elaborated, a warmish smile on my face in an attempt to make light of the situation. “But yes. And honestly? If you had been anyone else, I probably would have reacted… better. Because Saria… has green hair. It was the same color as yours, Flayn.”

Silence.

You could not possibly have drawn more attention to yourself.

Oh, like you could have done better.

Yes, I could. I would have torn out their throats, crushed their hearts, and consumed their blood for its power. Very simple.

Oh my goddesses, you’re hopeless. Hopeless, I tell you.

“When you appeared behind me, I… thought you were her for just a moment,” I said, trying to direct the conversation elsewhere. “Long enough that, when I came back to my senses, I just felt anger and embarrassment. That’s… why I reacted in the way I did. I lashed out because… someone hurt me and I didn’t know where else to turn, so I bore my fangs at the first person who came across me. That happened to be you.” That sounded good enough. I had sprinkled in enough truth to deflect attention away from the biggest lie. That, in reality, it wasn’t embarrassment or vulnerability that had driven me. Not by a long shot.

It was the fear that in that moment of weakness, Katáktisi would seize control, and tear her Crest stone out of her chest. I knew now that it was a silly thing to fear– the Crestwraith would not jeopardize our cover so willingly, not here in the belly of the beast where there was no hope of escape. But at the same time, I could not risk the alternative.

“So… I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart.”

Flayn’s expression screwed up in sympathy. “Link… I wish for you to understand that there is no need to put up a brave face for anyone’s sake. It is not a shameful thing to miss younger days.”

“That’s–”

“Flayn is correct,” Seteth said. “I still have fond memories of our mother…” For a second, I thought he said ‘her mother’. I had probably just misheard. “... fishing off the Rhodos Coast without a care in the world. Despite the time since those days, her absence brings me a pain no less sharp than the day I lost her. Consider your apology accepted, and allow me to apologize in turn for leaping to the conclusion that you were behind her disappearance.” He smiled, in that way that he used to before all of this started. I felt… like I was bubbling. Had I fallen ill? “Should you ever wish to speak of what you have lost, my door is always open. I am sure Flayn would also be open to this as well, should you feel more comfortable speaking with someone closer to your own age.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you, both of you. I’m glad we were able to reach a consensus.” I nodded as calmly as I could muster, and gently stepped out the door, allowing father and daughter to find comfort in each other’s arms once more. A comfort I had to remind myself I did not deserve.

~~~

The Battle of the Eagle and Lion was to take place at the end of next month. The monastery was awash with anticipation. Well, most of it, anyway. I myself wasn’t super particularly interested in it. It was just another opportunity for the house members to beat the everloving snot out of each other. Moreover, us monastery staff had to set up a goddesses-damned ballista in the middle of Gronder Field. It wasn’t even the Wyvern Moon yet! Moreover, why couldn’t they have just left the ballista there from last year’s Battle of the Eagle and Lion?

Laughably idiotic logistics aside, they could have at the very least waited for the humidity to die down. We were having an unusually hot fall, sure, but it was the Horsebow Moon at this point while still feeling like the Blue Sea Moon. Sure, it was only a couple hundred kilometers out, in Bergliez territory in the Empire, but it was a couple hundred kilometers carrying a disassembled siege weapon . Also, because of the Airmid River separating the nations, we had to cut through the Alliance territory of Gloucester and pass into the Empire at Myrddin. At least as far as we were aware, this ballista was staying at Gronder, so we didn’t have to worry about moving it back. 

The other three kids were taking it a bit easier than I was. I was being assisted by Cyril, Claire, and Annika, the latter of whom were war orphans from Edmund in the Alliance and Ochs in the Empire, respectively. The only other people that were close to my age in all the monastery were the gaggle of youths who had been initially raised by that group of bandits that the Blue Lion house had put down at the start of the year. Rhea had taken them in, saying that they were innocent of their caretaker’s crimes. I didn’t really know them as well as I knew these three, though.

It was a two-week trip plus change, and Rhea had been kind enough to secure night lodging for us at a series of inns along the way; tonight’s was on the border between the Alliance and the Empire. However, she didn’t think to give us each mounts to make the trip more palatable. We had two horses, sure, but they were mainly for pulling the cart carrying the heaviest of the ballista parts. We didn’t want to overtax them. 

I wiped the sweat off of my brow. The damn mosquitoes were buzzing in my ears. It was like the Woodfall Temple all over again. What was going to be next, the death whistles? Nothing to do about it but keep moving forward. As usual.

Din’s Eye– or, since we weren’t in Hyrule by any sense of the word, I suppose it was the goddess’ eye– slid towards the horizon as our trek neared its temporary end. The inn we were staying at was simple enough– really, it was little more than an assortment of bedrooms on top of a bar. I just hoped that it would be quiet.

We locked up the ballista parts and checked in at the inn. We made small talk as we ate a pile of slop, then retreated into our rooms for the night. It was only one room with two large beds and a couch. I waited until the latest hours, when my companions had fallen asleep. I breathed in, I breathed out, and I slunk away.

There was someone that Katáktisi wanted to meet.

I grabbed a key off of a shelf by the door and eased it shut. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I tiptoed down the stairs. It was fairly loud on the first floor of the inn– people talking, drinking, generally having a good time. The affairs of the western part of the Empire may have been tumultuous right now, but all was well on this side of the Oghma Mountains.

I spotted him fairly quickly. He was wearing a black and gold cloak, his face obscured by the shadows of his hood. The disguise that ‘Tomas’ used must have been difficult to acquire, if it was not being used. He was seated at the bar, a shot glass sitting mostly full on the bar. Clearly, he had just bought it to not appear more strange than he already did.

I hopped onto the stool next to him. “You must be the guy, right?”

He looked at me strangely. “You must have me mistaken for someone else.”

“No, I don’t think I do,” we replied coolly, Katáktisi’s words meshing with my own. “Garreg Mach’s agent said to meet you here. That ring any bells?”

There was a pause for a moment. “Right you are. Please– let us speak somewhere a little more… private.”

I nodded before walking outside the inn. It was a nice night if I ignored the insects. I was joined by the Agarthan a couple of minutes later– if we both went out at the same time, it would be suspicious.

“You may call me Odesse,” the disguised man introduced. “You claim to be Κατάκτηση? Show me.”

I hesitated. You must, the Crestwraith urged. “Give me a moment,” I pleaded, rummaging through my pouch and reaching through the hidden bottom to where the transformation masks were hidden, the Fierce Deity’s Mask included. I revealed it, its polished surface glinting off the light of the moon.

Grant me control.

Why?

It must not seem that you have your own agency. For your own safety, this must be done. Don the mask, my champion.

My fingers shook, but I submitted.

The transformation was agonizing, as it always was. Every cell of my body shifted and expanded, twisting into something that was me and was not me at the same time. I became us, and we became one once again. I hadn’t used any of the transformation masks in over a year, so I was a little unfamiliar with that feeling.

The Fierce Deity– harmony between Crestwraith and champion itself– was reborn.

We stretched our limbs, like a fresh butterfly alighting in the warmth of the sun. I took a moment to realize that we were not in the same form of the Fierce Deity that I had hence known. Had it always been like this in Fodra? I knew that it was different from the time I wore it on the moon. But had it been this way before? I wasn’t sure. 

I didn’t have the time to drink in my new body. Odesse appeared to be something between pleased and perturbed, between awestruck and disgusted. Overcoming whatever stint of emotion he had felt, he proffered a hand. We confidently took it, and at once an overbearing sense of vertigo overcame my entire being. Katáktisi was unaffected by the teleportation magic, of course. Good for it and all, but I was doing everything in my power not to retch. That would be what we called a bad idea.

“Welcome home, Σιγίλφασμα,” Odesse announced. This place… it was unlike anything in Fodra, Hyrule, or Termina. We were clearly underground somewhere, but the world was ablaze in harsh, artificial light. Everything appeared to be made from stone and metal. Giant mechanical creatures roamed the area, massive weapons at the ready to defend the stronghold. It was… futuristic was the best word. Was this what humanity could be capable of were it not for the Church? “The Agastya is pleased with your contributions to Solon’s research.”

“The Agastya is in Shambhala?” Katáktisi inquired.

“No,” Odesse said. “He is on business in the humans’ Empire. He shall make himself known to you soon, when the time comes. Solon is preparing the experiment, so he will not–”

“And why,” we snarled, “does that matter to us?”

“Solon and Caiaphas were the ones to create Ηγεμονία. The one that is to be bound to the mortal who has been gifted the Crest of Flames.” 

The name Caiaphas certainly got our attention. But the name ‘Ηγεμονία’ caught both of us off-guard– it meant ‘Hegemony’ in the ancient tongue. As did the mention of the Crest of Flames, the Crest that Nemesis had borne eons ago. Was Professor Byleth bearing a Crestwraith? That would certainly explain her… Byleth-ness.

“And now you have come here,” Odesse finished. Two of those great machines– Titanuses, as Katáktisi so helpfully informed– materialized out of the gloom behind him. “Why have you truly returned, Κατάκτηση? You would insinuate that you have come back to Agartha under peaceful pretenses. And yet your host has been sighted forging a deal with–”

“Is it not you, Odesse, who would insinuate that I, Κατάκτηση, would betray Agartha?!”

The Agarthan was silent. “Then why is Μιζέρια dead? And why do you keep your current host alive and undigested?” Curiously, Odesse didn’t seem to be saying that last sentence like it was a truly abhorrent thing. How very odd.

If you sell me out to save your own metaphorical skin, so help me–

You need not worry about that.

“Μιζέρια was slain by this mortal at the apex of a world,” we spat. “I claimed it as my host to feed off of it, but its spirit supersedes even that of the spawn of the Fell Star. I have been feasting on it for a year and have hardly made a dent. But at the same time, were I to fully consume it, I could tear down that heteromorphic vessel of Sothis herself. This mortal is mine . Should it meet a premature end…” We let the Agarthan fill in the blank himself. Which was good, because it prevented us from having to elaborate.

Have you really been feeding on my spirit? I felt that I had to ask for my own peace of mind.

Only enough to sustain myself. Not enough to weaken you. Make no mistake– I said only what I must say to protect us. Protect you.

I suppose it’s better than having to eat other people, I sighed. I had no reason to believe it was lying about this– I hadn’t felt any less strong of mind, body, or will in the last year and a half or so.

“Of course, Κατάκτηση,” Odesse capitulated. “You must forgive our suspicion. Φρίκη and Aγωνία absconded with Caiaphas before his blasphemy could be detected.”

Φρίκη and Aγωνία… Horror and Agony. The other two Crestwraiths! “Φρίκη was destroyed in the War of Heroes! How is it alive?” I demanded, momentarily breaking through the disguise before the Crestwraith shoved me back down again.

Thankfully, Odesse did not appear to notice the slip. “Solon and Caiaphas discovered how to make its corpse feed. They also solved Epimenides’ great puzzle– Ηγεμονία was the result. An unthinking Crestwraith, completely subservient to the will of its user. The Agastya has it, and intends to gift it to she who will burn the gods.” That was definitely referring to Byleth. It had to be, because she was the only person who had the Crest of Flames. Was her presence at the Officer’s Academy also organized by the Agarthans? Did Jeralt know about this? Did he know about me? But he had the Crest of Seiros, and the Major one to boot…

“Myson, Chilon, and the Twins will be informed of your cooperation,” Odesse assured. “And I will personally see to it that your host is not to be interfered with unless necessary.” Wow. That was really nice. I decided I liked Odesse. “I will also send Anaximandros to apprehend Caiaphas–”

“You will do no such thing,” Katáktisi demanded. “Caiaphas. Is. Mine.”

The Agarthan hesitated, but eventually relented. “As you will it.”

“With that mindless drivel completed,” my upstairs neighbor continued, “Solon wished me to–”

Wait. What were we doing?

We spun on our heel, exiting some strange and foreboding corner of Shambhala. Had we always been here? This place was so confusing. I guess the Agarthans just wanted to inform us of what had happened with the other two Crestwraiths. That was probably good information to have. I would have to ask Katáktisi about Φρίκη and Aγωνία later; if Caiaphas was speaking true, one of them was the mask I was most likely being sent to Zanado to retrieve. Regardless, we found the man who had brough me here, and we left Shambhala behind, warping a couple hundred meters away from the inn. Odesse nodded once before disappearing into the night. I could sense the coming morning. I didn’t want to go in the main door, but I had been smart enough to take note of which window corresponded to our room. I doffed Katáktisi, reverting to the form that I hated. I withdrew my Hookshot and aimed carefully, pulling myself straight onto the windowsill. I pushed the window open, put my Hookshot back in my pouch where it belonged, and all but collapsed in pure exhaustion.

“You were out late.”

A surge of adrenaline ran through my body at Cyril’s voice. “I… couldn’t sleep. Wasn’t tired.”

“We were walking all day yesterday. How’re ya not at all exhausted?”

I shrugged. “I’m used to running thirty-six hour shifts. It used to be seventy-two, but I managed to narrow that down over the last couple years.”

“You’re weird, Link.” Cyril shook his head in mild exasperation.

“What else is new?”

~~~

Well, this was it. Grinder Field… no, Gronder. It was Gronder Field. The breadbasket of the Adrestian Empire. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the Battle of the Eagle and Lion was a month away from beginning. Roughly.

We were definitely in the right place, judging by the giant wooden hill. Jeralt had said that the ballista was to be constructed at the apex of that mound. The horses pulled the cart up to the base. Perfect. We could take it from here.

“So, um, how do we put this together?” asked Annika timidly.

“Tomas let me borrow an instruction booklet,” Claire mentioned. She was always on top of stuff like that.

“Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” Cyril assured.

“Can I see it?” I asked. The blueprints were placed in my hands. “Hmm… It looks like the first thing we need to do is set up the base. If each of us could carry one of the four legs up the hill, that would be great.” We did so. Claire immediately set to work setting the supports against the main body of the soon-to-be ballista. Annika held it steady from the top. Cyril was doubling back to the cart to get more parts. I was still poring over the documents, primarily trying to figure out what in Fodra the difference between a torsion spring and a tension spring was.

~~~

“We need 3 more L-brackets.”

“There aren’t any L-brackets left.”

“There should be, the blueprints call for them!”

There was the sound of the rustling of paper. “No, that’s clearly a T-bracket.”

“By the Goddess, if you’ve been confusing L-brackets and T-brackets this entire time– ”

~~~

“Y’know, I still can’t believe Professor Jeritza would ever be the Death Knight,” Annika said.

“It was definitely him,” I countered. “I saw his hair beneath the mask.”

“I know that, I know that. It’s just… he taught me how to use a sword. And–”

“We know, Ann,” Claire interjected. “You haven’t stopped talking about it since Flayn was found.”

“It is kinda weird though,” Cyril commented. “Jeritza was… I always got the sense that he wanted to protect us. Guess you’ll never know who’s gonna stab ya in the back.”

“True that,” I agreed. “Say– Professor Manuela confronted ol’ Jeritza with his mask… I wonder if she still has it.”

“By the Saints, Link, what is with your fixation with masks?”

“I just think they’re cool, okay?”

“Back to the task at hand,” Cyril commented, leaning on the completed ballista base. “How do we put the bow part of the ballista on the base?”

“Same way as the chassis?”

“Nah, because there’s no holes to fix it in place like the other ones.”

“Cyril has a point… were we supposed to put the spring in first?”

“The instructions didn’t say anything about that…”

“The instructions don’t say anything about anything!”

“Got it!” Claire announced. “Take the bolt chamber off the stand. We have to put the bow part in the chamber before we put it on the base. Then we set up the torsion springs.”

“That’s all well and good, but… um… how do we do that? Take it off, I mean.”

Silence.

“Are you saying there’s no way to take the chamber off the base?”

“Not that I can see.”

“Ugh, this is a nightmare…”

~~~

The sun was already setting. We loaded a bolt. Cyril twirled the crank…

And it fired beautifully.

“Perfect!”

~~~

I never thought I would be happy to be back at Garreg Mach, in the maw of the enemy. But here I was, overjoyed to be… well, it wasn’t home, but it would have to do. After seeing the alien grandeur of Shambhala, I could no longer be impressed by the monastery’s comparatively simple design.

I lazily glanced towards my left, and noticed a small congregation by the pond, overseen by none other than Flayn herself. She looked happy. It was good to see her at least somewhat recovered from the ordeal of last month. I said my goodbyes to the main group and jogged over. “Hey Flayn. What’s all the hubbub over here?”

“Oh! Hello, Link!” Flayn greeted. Catherine nodded at me from a couple of meters away. Seteth must have had her keeping an eye on his daughter. I nodded back. “I must admit, I am quite excited! My brother has set up a fishing tournament with Ms Shamir! Although I cannot remember what type of fish I was wishing to dine on… nor how Mother used to prepare it…” She trailed off.

I remembered the fishing holes in Hyrule and Termina. “Maybe I should enter. I used to fish back in my day, and I could use a load off.”

“Oh, you should! I would appreciate that very much. Just talk to Ms Shamir when you decide to enter. Speaking of which, I have not seen you for at least a couple of days. Where have you been?”

“Me and some of the other kids were asked to set up some stuff for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion over at Gronder Field,” I explained.

“I see! I am very much looking forward to taking part in that this year! I will give it my all!”

“Wait, you’re taking part? I thought that was for Officer’s Academy students only.” At least, I was pretty sure. I knew that Kingdom, Alliance, and Empire soldiers would volunteer at the big event to simulate a real battle, but I had no idea it was open to the public.

“Have you not heard? My brother allowed me to enroll in Professor Byleth’s class!” Why on Hylia’s green earth had Seteth even entertained that notion? He had always been suspicious of her lack of recorded history, as he had been with mine. I guess her house saving his daughter, who was very important to him, was enough to overlook all of that.

“Neat.”

I disengaged from the conversation and immediately started another one. “Hi, Shamir. I heard you were in charge of the fishing tourney?”

“You heard right,” she affirmed in that flat way of hers. “Just catch whatever fish Flayn requests. Show whatever you catch to Flayn.”

“Will do,” I confirmed. I grabbed a rod and took a seat at the edge of the pond. There was someone else sitting there already, line in the water. Ignatz, if my memory served me correct.

“Oh, hey there. Link, right?”

How did he know my name? “That’s me,” I replied.

“You must be taking part in the fishing tournament,” the archer presumed. “Why not put your skills to the test? We’ll compare whichever fishes we catch next. Biggest will be the victor.”

The thrill of the challenge rushed through my veins. “You’re on, Ignatz.”

I put some random bait on my hook and cast the line. It hit the water with a satisfying plunk. Now all there was to do was wait for a fish to decide to bite…

Any moment now…

I heard some frenzied splashing as Ignatz pulled an Airmid Goby out of the water, impaled through the mouth. “That’s pretty good!”

We waited a while. And a while longer. And after that was done, we waited some more.

The rod twitched in my hands. At long last, a bite! The beast started pulling hard, and it was all I could do to keep my footing. I held the reel taut, pulling with all my might while slowly gyrating my angle of attack to line up with the fish’s direction. That was how I had always done it in Hyrule and Termina. The trick was to change the direction of force to make the fish point towards you.

Still, this sea creature was stubborn, and was obviously utterly determined to get as far away from the dock as possible. With a final, monumental effort, I yanked the flapping fish free from the confines of the pond. Just a Caledonian Crayfish. And pretty small, too. Although it was almost as long as my entire forearm… Well, now neither of us were having fun.

“Well, guess I win on size,” Ignatz mused. “Still, that’s a nice fish.”

“I win on proportion,” I argued. “Wanna call it a draw?”

“You do have a point… alright.”

“Hey guys!” a third voice cut in. I whirled to see Caspar, a wide grin on his face. “You guys in the fishing tournament? Check out this beauty! Haha!” The Black Eagles student whipped out the most pathetic Carassius I had ever laid eyes on, and obviously he noticed that the sizes of our fishes were utterly incomparable. “Aww… I guess I’ll just have to catch a bigger one! And for that, I’ll need a new strategy! Hahaha!”

Caspar von Bergliez? Using strategy? That could not possibly end well for any of us.

With that, the pint-sized Bergliez backed up a half-step before throwing himself into the pond headfirst. “Come here, fishies! I! Am! Caspar!” There was a monumental splash, blasting Ignatz and myself with the tiny tsunami, and then there was nothing. No sign of Caspar… just his Carassius alone on the ground. I glanced at Ignatz. Ignatz returned my gaze.

“First one to fish Caspar out of the lake breaks the tie?”

“Alright, I accept.”

~~~

To seemingly everyone’s surprise except my own, Professor Byleth walked up, caught the most enormous specimen of Teutates Herring known to man, and blew the rest of us right out of the water. The worst part of it all was that the Teutates Herring turned out to be the exact type of fish that Flayn had been looking for to begin with, which was honestly just adding insult to injury at that point.

Oh well, it had at least been fun. I had caught a nice Airmid Pike, and while it had been on the small side, you didn’t really see too many of those this far inland. All in all, I was content with how things had turned out.

“Hello, Professor Hanneman,” I greeted, stepping into the Crestologer’s office.

“Oh. Just the youth I was hoping to see,” the older gentleman greeted. “You will be happy to know that I just finished analyzing that blood you gave me.”

He hadn’t done that yet? I’d given him my blood nearly a year ago. He was probably just busy with other things. “And?”

“Well, there were some minor peculiarities,” Hanneman droned. “An increased amount of red blood cells relative to plasma, for instance. I won’t bore you with the details– suffice to say, there is no evidence that you bear a Crest, as you yourself said. Although that does raise the question of why Catherine had believed that you possessed one…”

“It’s possible she was just wrong,” I asserted. “Perhaps she was just picking up on my unique magic footprint?”

“That could be a possibility,” the professor mused. “But to rule it out for certain, I would have to ascertain the exact machinations of Catherine’s ability to sense Crests. I will have to reach out to her on that front. Is there any other reason you came here?”

Um… “I heard you and Professor Manuela are going to be sitting out this year’s Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Is that true?” I asked, grasping for straws.

“It is indeed. It simply wouldn’t feel right if only one professor misses it.”

“Is Professor Byleth going to skip it too?”

“I haven’t actually broached the topic with her as of yet,” Hanneman admitted. “I intend to do so once Professor Manuela has recovered enough to be there at that hour.”

~~~

I minded being on Manuela Duty slightly less after everything that had happened in the last month. It wasn’t pity– it was more the fact that the healers had the ex-diva, whatever that meant, on a strict no-alcohol diet while she recovered. That meant that, in theory, she was sober. Then again, it was as Hanneman said during one of his lectures: no theory survived first contact with the enemy. Without exception.

Her bandages had to be replaced somewhat frequently. The wound wasn’t bleeding– magic had been used to seal the stab, but she had lost a lot of blood in the process, and that could cause complications if the area wasn’t kept unexposed. Furthermore, if the gauze got too dirty, that could be a problem. Fortunately, Professor Manuela was normally the head physician at Garreg Mach on top of being a professor. The only issue was finding it half the time– the place was an utter sty. Clearly, Professor Manuela had never had to spend a hundred or more Cycles shaving seconds. Anything out of its proper place was a liability. I don’t know how anyone managed to live like this.

Thus, I spent most of my typical Manuela Duty periods just organizing stuff. It was never remotely the same once I came back, but it was just helpful for myself and for her. I liked being helpful. It made me… feel fulfilled.

“Here it is,” I commented, setting the bundle of bandage material on her still-cluttered desk. “I assume you’d like me to leave the room until you get settled with that?”

“You don’t have to ask me that every time, you know,” Manuela winked. It wasn’t a wink like the ones she gave Jeralt, or Seteth sometimes. There wasn’t any ulterior motive behind it. “The answer’s going to be the same.”

I nodded dutifully and stepped outside, easing the door shut behind me. It just felt more polite to ask. I whipped out my ocarina while I waited, idly tooting the New Wave Bossa Nova. I wondered how Lulu and her kids were doing. Strange– I hadn’t really had a thought like that in a long time. Maybe Anju and Kafei had kids by now… actually, maybe not. It took a long time to grow a tree. That was how kids were made, right? Seeds falling from a tree’s branches? That was what the Kokiri had always told me, at any rate. I wasn’t sure if I believed them, but I didn’t really have a reason not to

“Okay, you can come back in now,” Manuela said through the oak of the door, shaking me out of my doldrums. I stepped back inside. “Oh, if only the average man was a tenth as respectful as you, Link… well, that’s a foolish thing to think.”

“Uh huh,” I agreed noncommittally. “Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places.” The men she mainly picked up were from the various bars near Garreg Mach. Maybe if she went there less, she’d be drunk less often and Manuela Duty would be a lot more bearable. She didn’t respond, which was hopefully a good sign.

I eyed the domino mask lying haphazardly on her desk. When Manuela wasn’t looking, I swiped it. Long had I awaited this day, when Jeritza’s mask came into my clutches. Months of attempted trades, friendly conversations, silent admiration… all built up to this moment, when I had it in my grasp.

Take that, you sad old man.

~~~

I scribbled in my notes. Sixteenth of the Wyvern Moon. Traveling to Kleiman. Duscur, as it should be known.

I was flattered and honored that Prince Dimitri would choose to invite me on this mission. Recently, a request for aid was sent by Viscount Kleiman, who had annexed Duscur for the Kingdom shortly after the Tragedy. Apparently, a small army of Duscurian insurrectionists were on his doorstep. A number of other western lords had sent their forces to stamp out the uprising, and by the looks of it the rebels were going to be wiped out to the last man. That was why Dimitri had organized for the Blue Lion house to help handle the situation. Hopefully, we would be able to settle this peacefully. But if push came to shove… well, the Blue Lions could definitely shove.

Professor Byleth had arranged transportation, fortunately. It was myself, Dedue, Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ingrid in this cart. The ex-mercenary, Annette, Mercedes, Felix, and Ashe were in the other cart.

“How’re you holding up, big guy?” I asked Dedue. He hadn’t said a word for the entire trip so far. I wagered that he must have been worried about the wellbeing of the other Duscurians.

“I am… concerned. That this will not end well for any of us.”

My face twisted. “Don’t think like that, Dedue. It’ll be a self-fulfilling prophecy, y’know? And lemme tell ya: prophecies suck. Hoo boy.”

Dimitri’s right hand said nothing. The only sound was that of the wheels on the road as we scaled the mountain separating Duscur from the rest of the continent.

“I told myself I would never come here,” Ingrid was saying.

“Because of Glenn?”

“Because of Glenn.”

“I feel like I’m missing some context over there,” I chimed in.

“Glenn is–” Dimitri paused. “Was Felix’s brother. He was engaged to Ingrid for a time, but… he fell during the Tragedy.”

“The Tragedy…” I repeated. “Everything in Faerghus nowadays comes back to the Tragedy. And Duscur unjustly takes the blame.”

Ingrid made a face, but didn’t interject with whatever was on her mind.

Before I knew it, we were upon the meager forces. A tiny group of well-equipped Kingdom soldiers were already within striking distance of what appeared to be some kind of scouting party of the ragtag insurgents, who were more spread out around the mountainous area. “The Kingdom’s vanguard has already arrived,” Dedue noted. “Just as we’d feared, they far outclass the Duscur forces. We cannot stand by and allow another massacre, but we cannot obstruct the Faerghus army, either. Our best hope is to force the troops of Duscur to withdraw before the Kingdom soldiers get to them.”

“The main body of the Kingdom’s army is bound to arrive soon,” Dimitri informed. “Until then, let’s aim to quell this uprising ourselves. Once the main force arrives, we will be out of options. We must move fast.

“It seems the church and the Kingdom troops are not working together. My head hurts just thinking about it, but we may be able to use that. First, let’s push Duscur to retreat. The Kingdom might then also withdraw without a fight.” That seemed… very risky. What if they just… didn’t?

“Let us be quick about it,” Dedue ordered. And be quick about it we were. Our prime directive was to prevent the Kingdom army from descending upon the militia. That meant getting there fast. I dug in my pouch for Farore’s Wind. I couldn’t get straight over there, but I could just barely set one of my warp points up on the same plateau that they were on. I spent some magic to do so, and observed the situation. The Duscur forces were making a desperate charge. It wouldn’t work– the Faerghusian soldiers were much better equipped, and most likely better trained as well. I spied some dilapidated buildings on the far side of the fight, and an idea sparked into my mind. What better way to divide two troops than a wall of fire?

I lit a Fire Arrow and readied my Hookshot. I lined up towards the wooden barn, and fired. The metal chain uncoiled, flying towards my target. As soon as I felt my feet leave the ground, I shoved my newborn torch into the ground, drawing a line of fire with the tip. The few plants that were there burst into flame, and soon a river of heat separated the Kingdom from the Duscurians.

“What sort of cheap trick is this?” A Faerghusian heavy knight demanded.

“Must be one of those murderous beasts’ traps,” a myrmidon assumed. “Fall back! We have to douse the flames! Those Duscur animals will have to wait!”

First of all, rude. Second of all, success! Now all I had to do was wait for them all to leave, and then play the Song of Storms to douse the newborn fire. Soon, the sun was blotted out and the sky opened with a torrential downpour, rendering my work bound to the history books. I did love it when a plan came together. It was just like crawling through dungeons in Hyrule and Termina– here was a problem, and I could interact with the environment and my items to solve it with maximum efficiency.

I darted through the rain and hopped through the warp point just as it dissipated. “Kingdom scouts are on the retreat!” I hollered over the storm, rappelling down a rocky outcropping and deflecting a blow intended for Annette.

“Really? How?” Ashe asked, who was also here. The rest of the force was either further ahead or taking care of the enemies to the east.

“I’ll explain later!” I ducked under a punch and clocked the sender with the pommel of my sword. That was going to leave a nasty bruise, but he would live. The unarmed soldier quickly made his escape, and I turned my attention forward. By the time I got to the front lines, Dimitri, Dedue, and Ingrid were already deep in a thicket. The rest of our force was cleaning up and preparing to inform the Kingdom army of what had transpired.

“We will not relent,” someone was saying. “Not until we have taken back the homeland you monsters stole from us!” It must have been the Duscurian general. 

“I share the same sentiment,” Dedue agreed.

“You? Who sold his soul to Faerghus?”

“His Highness has promised the people of Duscur a home.” Dedue crossed his arms. “His will be a kingdom that is proud to harbor the blood of both Faerghus and Duscur.”

“That’s impossible. Don’t be naive.”

“Believe what you will. But Faerghus will change under his reign. That is my firm belief.” I got the sense that Dedue was going to say more in the silence that followed, but Dimitri entered the conversation.

“The Kingdom army has retreated to the fortress. There should be no further danger,” the crown prince assured.

“Prince of Faerghus! You monster!” The Duscurian general snarled.

“Can you still run? Then I suggest you do so now,” Dimitri advised, barely taking note of the verbal assault. “Your people are waiting for you on the other side. Remain hidden from the Kingdom army.”

“...”

“May our paths cross again,” Dedue finished.

The other man turned away. “I certainly hope not. But remember this one thing: the people of Duscur never forget their grudges… nor do they fail to honor favors.” And then he was gone.

“Thank you, Your Highness, for accommodating my selfish request.” He called that selfish?

“Think nothing of it,” Dimitri assured, echoing my own sentiments. “This is something I wished for, as well. If you must give thanks, give it to the church for allowing us to join the battle, and to Link for somehow diverting the Kingdom forces that had already arrived. It’s about time we headed back. The professor and the others are waiting.”

Dimitri and Dedue left. I realized that they hadn’t even realized I was there. I followed them, but paused once again when I saw them once again paused in a clearing. But Dimitri…

“Are you injured?”

“No.” Oh. That was Ingrid.

“Good.”

“...”

“...”

…

“I would have cut my way through. Alone. Without your assistance.” She sounded… angry, almost? Why, and how? Dedue was one of the kindest people I had ever met.

“My apologies.” And moreover, why did Dedue just let people walk all over him like this? He had been like this in Fhirdiad, as well.

“Your apologies are empty.”

“...”

“I… I spoke out of turn. I’m sorry, Dedue. His Highness has put his faith in you. You are a valuable comrade, regardless of my feelings.” Her expression became angered, in a distant sort of way. “I… the people of Duscur…”

“Save your breath.”

“I–”

“There were countless people like you in the capital. People who spat, threw things– insults and stones alike– whenever they pleased. Their anger was natural. I don’t begrudge them.”

“I– I see.”

“You owe me no apology. And I will keep my distance on all other occasions. But on the field of battle, allow me to aid you. If you were to fall, His Highness would grieve.”

“I see. Then I will accept your help… on the battlefield.”

“Understood.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to stop this… horrible discourse. “Dedue, how many times are we going to have this conversation?”

The two of them whirled to face me as I stepped out of the underbrush, a scowl painted on my features. “Link–”

“Zip it a moment,” I ordered. “You’re just going to say something like ‘I am used to it’. Because guess what? You shouldn’t be ‘used to it’, especially not when you’re a hundred times better person than any of those egotistical morons could dream of being!

“And you.” I turned to Ingrid, still seething. “Have you seriously been assuming that just because Dedue is from Duscur, that means he’s some wretched baby-eating regicidal…” I trailed off, hands forming claws out of sheer frustration. “Even if Duscur was completely responsible for what happened to Dimitri’s father– which, I remind you, they weren’t according to both Dimitri and Sylvain– do you really think that gives you grounds to assume that Dedue– Dimitri’s right hand, that Dedue– was also involved in that terrible business?”

Both of them appeared stunned at my outbursts. I could understand Ingrid’s shock, to be fair, but honestly, at this point Dedue should be used to me barging into situations like these. I would always block the stones that came his way when I could, stick up for him when words were the projectiles, all to the best of my ability. Dedue didn’t deserve to have to put up with any of that nonsense. I was glad I had had the good sense to hide my ears for all this time– I would likely have been treated with a neutered but similar xenophobia because of them, if anyone had noticed.

Anger bubbling, I stalked away before I could say something I would regret. I got in the cart, and said nothing for the entire trip back to Garreg Mach.

You heard it here, folks– Link isn’t racist.

Review please!

Louie Yang (FF): Believe it or not, the second half of White Clouds is longer than the first half. Creative uses of Link’s arsenal are definitely forthcoming. I could see Link in basically any Fódlan faction– his connection to Dimitri makes him a natural fit for the Blue Lions, his personal beliefs probably lean closest to Claude’s, and Katáktisi would be a total Edelgard fan.

CuddlyManaki (AO3): If you’re not spending all your days as a murderous gremlin, what are you doing with your life?

Equalized Enigma (FF): The Link & Seteth scenes always slap. Every time, without fail.

DarthFlores (FF): Link’s ‘arc’ in pre-timeskip definitely has a lot to do with becoming accustomed to being around other people again. I’d say he still has a fair amount left to go– he has a lot of casual acquaintances, but very few real friends– and he has a lot of trouble with emotional vulnerability. I moved the Battle of the Eagle and Lion to the next chapter because this one was getting pretty long, and I also wanted to do War for the Weak so Dedue doesn’t die in post-timeskip. (I forgot that little caveat when I was writing the chapter, and only remembered in the middle of writing Chapter 19.)

A fan (FF): The new name poll has been closed. Thank you for your input, though– I really appreciate it!

Aemon_Targaryen13 (AO3) : I believe the actual lyrics of GSS says Fodra, and it’s translated as Fódlan. I’m going to pretend that Link’s view of age is really messed up and that’s why initially he sees Dimitri, Dedue, and Felix as older and definitely not because I just forgot, no way. I assure you that this will not be a mindless Nabatean bashing story– I want to be nuanced with my writing, and Seteth is my favorite character in the game. Katáktisi is supposed to not be very likable by this point in the story. Regarding Maurice, my logic was that if he was turned into a metal dog after the War of Heroes, he probably would have fought in the War of Heroes, so Seiros would have probably worked him into her revision of history instead of pretending he never existed; plus, Katáktisi was forged during the War of Heroes, probably between year 60 and 80 if I had to estimate. Thanks for the feedback, I really appreciate it!

XLilaXTheXSpecterX (AO3): I would be remiss not to! I think Link has already purchased a couple new masks– not any with magic, mind you. I think I mentioned them in one of the earlier chapters off-handedly. There will be more!

hg4fmwzb (AO3): Hi! While I’m flattered that I would be invited to such an event, I fear I must decline. My writing style is simply not compatible with a competitive environment, and I believe it would suffer drastically as a result. I’m not looking for other sources of stress in my life right now. It certainly sounds fun, and I am sorry to let you down like this, but I believe it’s for the best. Thank you very much for your offer!

Chapter Text

As of writing this, I’m almost done with the mid-timeskip, which ended up being way longer than I ever thought it would end up being. I’m definitely going to be taking a couple weeks’ break from writing further (which will not affect upload timings at all, haha– I have at least about 15 chapters until I run out, so no worries on that front). Just wanted to keep you guys updated!

Chapter XIV

All the monastery dorms looked the same. And yet, those of common birth were forced onto the first floor. I couldn’t fathom why– I had been inside both and could say with experience that they were exactly the same. Elitism, I guessed.

It is a use of power. Nothing more, Katáktisi commented flippantly.

Just because it’s a ‘use of power’ doesn’t mean it’s a good one.

There is no ‘good’. Only the strong and the weak.

Can you really say being born a noble is a strength? It’s purely based on the luck of who decided to have a kid a couple of years ago.

It is a lesser power. But it is a position of power nonetheless, bestowed upon them by Seiros. Though it is borne of the foe to all life, anyone who would not use their strength to claim victory is a fool. Or worse.

Then does my choice to not use items in fights make me a fool?

Choose your words with more care. A true battle is life and death– there are only the victors and the dead. There is no punishment for losing a spar.

I couldn’t argue with that, so I let the conversation drop. I had come to this part of the monastery seeking aid from a very specific person regarding a very specific topic. A topic that I was both intimately familiar with and uncomfortably confused about.

I had grabbed some sheets of music from the chapel. I vaguely recognized the notation used– I had seen it maybe once or twice throughout my sojourns through Hyrule and Termina– but I had no idea how to decode it. Navi or Tatl had always done it for me. It was times like these that I missed them.

‘Come back, Link,’ they whispered when there were no other sounds to hear. ‘Why did you stop looking for us? Just a couple more kilometers, a couple more weeks, and maybe you’ll see us. You need us. You need us. You need us.’ I always pushed them out of my mind– I had moved on, I had stronger connections in Fodra than in Hyrule or Termina, and…

The dull ache in my heart tore itself open again. Maybe I could talk to Saria soon?

No. Not after what happened at the Goddess Tower. I hastily bandaged the wound in that hackneyed way that I knew. Keep moving forward and don’t look back. The longing would fade over time.

Hopefully.

It was time to throw myself wholeheartedly into this current task. I scaled the steps to the first level of dorms and paused. Which door was the one that Manuela had directed me to again? I felt bad pestering her about this, what with her condition and all, so I figured the other skilled singer would be a more than adequate substitute.

It was this one, right? Three doors down from the northern side? It had to be. I stepped up to the wooden door, shifted my weight from foot to foot, and knocked three times.

“U-um, nobody’s home!” a response squealed. Curious. That didn’t sound quite like Dorothea. Her name was Dorothea, right? Maybe I was just remembering it incorrectly.

“Really?” I asked the closed door. “Unless you’re a talking door, your response would mean that someone is inside there to answer it.”

“Ugh, great going, Bernie!” the occupant whispered angrily, but still loud enough for the sound to pass through the barrier. “What do you want? You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?!”

Where in Fodra had that come from? If we wanted to kill her, Katáktisi noted, we would have done so a long time ago. I swiftly told the Crestwraith to not say such things, even if no one could hear it except for me.

“No, no,” I placated. “I was actually hoping to speak to a Dorothea, but now I’m too invested in this wonderful conversation to just back out. Uh, while I’m here… why did you think I was going to kill you? With all due respect, I don’t even know who you are.”

“Because–” The voice paused. “Because! Why else would anyone want to talk to this unmarriageable idiot?!”

“Miss, I’m twelve years old. ‘Unmarriageable’ means less than nothing to me.”

Silence.

“Look, I’m sorry if I somehow managed to scare you…”

More silence.

“Lemme make you a deal. You tell me where I can meet Dorothea, and I’ll go away. How’s that sound?”

“... U-um… two doors to the left.”

That was… slightly helpful. “Is that my left or your left?”

Silence.

“I’ll assume yours. Thank you, nameless voice behind a door!”

I knew that the so-called ‘nameless voice behind a door’ had a name, and that name was Bernie, but with how explosively she had reacted to my mere existence, I thought it best to just… not. Maybe I should do something to unruffle those feathers… break in in the dead of night and leave a slice of cake and a letter? No, that was a bit too perishable– and breaking in probably wasn’t going to be appreciated. A vase of flowers from the greenhouse on the doorstep, on the other hand, sounded perfect. I would do that in a couple days, before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.

I moseyed two doors south and rapped on the new door with my fist. No response. I waited for a couple of minutes. My only reward was pure silence. Excellent– this entire afternoon was a glorious waste of my time. Oh well. I would have to come again tomorrow.

~~~

I stepped into the infirmary. I hadn’t been banged up too badly during my time in Garreg Mach– nothing that required more than a quick Heal spell courtesy of myself or someone else. When I was still learning the spell, I didn’t know what I was supposed to practice it on, so I would constantly draw little cuts on myself to practice healing them. Sometimes my efforts were, ah, problematic to say the least. But those had been the only times I had been to this particular section of the monastery.

And there, lying on a bed, seemingly sound asleep, was the shock of red hair called Monica von Ochs.

I stared for a while, trying to place where I had seen her before. But for all my effort, I could only draw a blank. Frankly, it was maddening. What had happened to her before she ‘ran away’ from the monastery? When had the Death Knight captured her?

This… Katáktisi rumbled, almost confused. Check her heartbeat.

Why? It wasn’t like Monica wasn’t breathing.

Just do it.

Hesitantly, I brought up my left hand and moved towards her. Her arms were lying unexposed at her side below her covers, so it would be a bit difficult to locate the vein on her wrist to easily check her pulse.

Not her pulse , Katáktisi clarified. Her heartbeat.

What’s the difference?

We are expecting another Agarthan agent to infiltrate Garreg Mach, and the mole matches her description. I wished to ensure that that theory was correct.

So the Agarthans were adding a third set of eyes to the monastery? Could be helpful. That… still doesn’t answer my question, though…

Agarthans do not have heartbeats– the heart is substituted with an artificial core at birth that greatly extends their lifespans. As a consequence, they have a pulse but no heartbeat.

Oh. That made sense, I guess. It was definitely a bit awkward to check, but nonetheless I placed my fingers delicately on her upper chest. The body abruptly began to shift below my touch, and it was only a quick reflex with my right hand that interrupted the trajectory of that sickle-shaped dagger, preventing it from spearing my stomach. But I knew what I felt.

She had no heartbeat at all.

“What do you think you’re doing?” ‘Monica’ demanded.

I glanced behind me. I had decided to come in the middle of the night, when there was nobody around. Surprising– I would have thought that at least someone would be on call in case something happened. “Odesse asked me to keep an eye on you,” I ad libbed quickly.  “I was just confirming.”

The doppelgänger relaxed, an easy grin surfacing on her face. “Oh, you’re the–” Her brow furrowed. “Wait, Odesse? If it was Solon, then I’d get it– I’d still hate the old skinbag– but… hang on, who are you, anyway?”

“This thrall belongs to Katáktisi,” I lied.

Very convincing, the Crestwraith lauded.

“Oh! I get it. Κατάκτηση is just being a little bitch, huh?” I nearly choked on my own surprise. ‘Monica’ cackled at her own daring. “C’mon, Κατάκτηση, you can do a lot better than this! I mean, your host can’t be older than ten! Where’s the avatar of desolation and subjugation that I’ve heard so much about?”

“This,” I insisted at my upstairs neighbor’s encouragement, “is an operation dependent on subtlety and subterfuge . You would do well to remember that.”

“And for what? You’re a weapon, remember, pal? You belong to Thales– and by proxy, you belong to me . I should be able to tell you to kill whoever I want and you should have no choice but to do it! It’s the least you can do to enjoy it!”

Katáktisi said nothing, obviously wanting to save face. I could feel its discomfort and its disgust, but beneath that I could pick out a hint of relief. I, personally, wanted nothing more than to punch this particular Agarthan’s face in so hard I could use it as a bowl, but that would jeopardize my survivability. I didn’t have the heart to tell ‘Monica’ that as a Crestwraith, I outranked her and realistically I was the one with the jurisdiction to order her around, and not the other way around.

…

“Whatever. You’re no fun, Κατάκτηση. The old logs from the war made me think you’d at least be interesting. ” She groaned exaggeratedly. “Just go away, you lame creature. I’ll get in touch with you later about your future job.”

I remained silent as I turned and walked away, basically on autopilot. A hateful grimace was nonetheless etched into my face.

Monitoring ‘Monica’ was not going to be an enjoyable experience, was it?

~~~

“Link! Please, a moment of your time!”

I pivoted on my heel to see Seteth barreling down the hallway towards me. What had him in such a rush? Sure, I was almost always en route from one job to another at any given point in my thirty-six hour workday provided I wasn’t already at it, but surely it wasn’t so bad that the headmaster of the Officer’s Academy saw fit to sprint full-tilt just to catch up to me. It must have been a very pressing thing.

“Can I help you, Mr Seteth?” I replied as calmly as I could considering the circumstances.

“It’s something of a serious matter,” the Nabatean admitted. “What do you think of Flayn?”

Beg pardon? I wasn’t quite sure exactly what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. After what we’d talked about last month, I was fairly certain he knew my feelings about her.

Choose your words very, very carefully, Katáktisi advised. He knows. Be prepared to strike first– something you should have done long ago.

Quiet, you clueless creature.

How dare you, it drawled emotionlessly.

“Is this… about–”

“No, perish the thought!” the advisor asserted with a smile on his face, clearly correctly assuming I was going to bring up the Goddess Tower. Darn, I had been hoping to use that to deflect the conversation. “I have been asking everyone for their opinions regarding my sister, in light of something she told me. Some scoundrel has been making her life difficult at the monastery– can you imagine?!”

I think she was referring to him, if my very rapidly building assumption was correct. Seteth was a smart man, but when it came to his daughter he had not a single ounce of self-awareness in his entire body. Actually, did ‘everyone’ include ‘Monica’? Because if so, that might be a problem. I reminded myself to remind her to play nice when Seteth– or any Nabatean, for that matter– approached her. She hadn’t exactly been subtle as of late, always sticking to Edelgard and Hubert like glue as some part of her impersonation routine. I didn’t think anyone else was particularly suspicious of her yet, but still– better to play it safe than blow the lid off this whole operation. Goddesses knew what kind of ramifications that would have.

“She’s… a human marshmallow,” I said after a moment’s deliberation. “I think she’s a kind, responsible, and caring young woman. Considering the circumstances, I feel that we’re getting along fairly well.”

I may as well have told Saint Cichol that he’d won the lottery. “I see. Thank you very much for your time, Link. If you’ll excuse me…”

He walked further down the hall with a bounce in his long stride, and I was about to turn back to face where I was going when Flayn collided with me. What was it with the Nabateans today? At this rate, Rhea was going to trip over me down a flight of stairs by the time the hour was out.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as our foreheads collided. I merely sucked in a hissing breath as the pain reared its ugly head.

“Watch where you’re going…” I complained.

“Listen… Link… what was my… brother talking… to you about… just now?” Cethleann managed, clearly out of breath from running all this way.

“Well, he asked me about my opinion of you, I told him we were getting along well, and then he left,” I said.

Immediately, the young saint’s expression morphed into a miffed pout. “Seriously?! That is ludicrous! I already feared the worst… I must confront my brother about this!”

And with that, she was off, following her father’s footsteps. Part of me wanted to follow, but I had more pressing work to do. I always did, after all– even back in Hyrule and Termina, I always managed to stumble into extra things to do sideways of my main quest, usually for rewards like money or rare trinkets. I wondered if I could get the people of Fodra to trade high-quality bottles for such odd jobs…

~~~

The door swung open, and Dorothea Arnault stepped outside. She quickly appraised me, immediately deciding that I was not a suitable, er, suitor. “Hey… Link, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” I confirmed, voice still shaky from my encounter with the disguise named Monica. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, I was just hoping to ask for a favor.”

“What kind of favor are we talking about?”

“I heard from Professor Manuela that you were an accomplished singer,” I started, “so–”

Dorothea cut me off. “So you wanted to hear me sing, huh? I don’t sing for just anyone, now.”

“That… wasn’t what I was going to say.”

She looked me over again, slightly more interested. “Oh yeah?”

“I’m, uh, something of a musician myself,” I said sheepishly. “But every song I know is committed to memory. We didn’t have any of, um, this.” I dug in my pouch for a moment and withdrew the slightly disheveled book of sheet music. “So I never learned how to read it. And I was hoping that–”

“I’d teach you? Aww, Link– here, come inside. I have a free couple hours.”

We stepped inside and took a seat at the enclosed desk. Dutifully, I whipped out my ocarina and waited. The ex-diva rapped the edge of the pages against the table a couple of times before locking eyes with my instrument of choice.

“Never seen an instrument like that,” Dorothea commented.

“It’s an ocarina,” I said, slightly confused. Did they not have those in Fodra? “It’s kind of like a flute, I guess? In that you blow into it and cover the holes to make different notes.” I demonstrated, the opening to the Song of Time echoing from the instrument with a bit of vibrato to show off. It didn’t do anything, of course– it was hardly the Ocarina of Time, after all.

“And you learned that without sheet music? Gotta say, I’m impressed.”

“All the more reason to commit it to paper, right?”

Dorothea sighed. “Okay, fair enough. So this thing–” she laid the paper on the desk and pointed out twin series of five bars– “is called the staff. Each line and each space represents a note. The top staff is called the treble clef, and the bottom staff is called the bass clef.”

“Uh huh. So this arc and this big squiggle thing–”

“That just tells you the treble and bass.”

“But the top one is the treble and the bottom one is the bass. So why do you need that to differentiate them?”

Dorothea shook her head. “Some instruments only deal in one clef.”

“Oh.” I glanced slightly to the side of the treble curve. “Then what are these numbers? Four-four?”

“The top number is the number of beats per measure– which is this vertical line over here. The bottom tells you which number gets the beat. Since this is 4/4, there are four beats per measure, and the quarter note gets the beat.”

I blinked. “Wait, what’s the ‘quarter note’? Notes are notes.”

“It’s the difference between:” She cleared her throat. “‘La’ and ‘Laa’.”

Uh… “Oh! It’s the length!” I exclaimed.

“Now you’re getting it!” She smiled. “So, in four-four time, there are four quarter notes in a measure.”

“And if it was in six-eight time, there would be six… eighth notes per measure, right?”

“Exactly. You’re a quick study!”

“Thanks.” I refrained from saying something along the lines of ‘growing up, it was either learn fast or die young’. I drew my attention to the weird top hat looking thing. “And what’s this?”

“That’s a half rest. It means you don’t play anything for two beats. An upside down one is a whole rest, and this scribble is a quarter rest.”

This was starting to make more and more sense to me. “Okay… so this example here would go…” I squinted at it for a half second. “Da da daa, da-da da daaa, da-da-da-da daa?”

“The tempo is right, but your melody’s super flat.”

“So how would you do it?”

“This is just your way of getting me to sing, isn’t it?” she winked.

“Not if you don’t want to,” I hastened to say. “I think it would just be a lot easier if I heard it for myself.”

“Oh, alright, just this once. Ahem. So la ti, la-so fa so, fa-mi-re-do, mi…”

I peered at the sheet music again. “Wait– does the height of the note on the bar determine the note?! That makes so much sense!” Dorothea laughed. “So if I wanted to play this, it would be…” I put the ocarina back to my lips, and immediately played the wrong note. “Wait, hang on, let me try this again. It would be…” It was completely off-kilter, but I was fairly certain I could get all the notes right. It would come to me with practice.

“Yeah, you’ve got the hang of it! One last thing– the notes have names.”

I tilted my head. “Why?”

“Because a bunch of crusty old nobles like Ferdie in the days of antiquity decided that the piano was the purest form of music,” Dorothea sighed. 

I tilted my head in confusion. “What’s wrong with Ferdinand?” I hadn’t really interacted much with the scion of Aegir, but he seemed like an inoffensive enough sort.

“Let me put it in a way you can understand– he’s like a bee.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Because he’s always buzzing around in your ear and being a general nuisance?” I posited.

The opera diva chuckled. “That too. Anyways, this note down here– the one with the line through it– is C. We know the song is in the key of C because there aren’t any flats or sharps over by the clef.”

“Wait, key of C?”

“It determines the starting point,” Dorothea explained. “An octave is 8 keys on a piano, but there’s a half-step in the middle. So the major keys are the only ones used in the key of C. With me?”

“I think it would help if I knew what a piano looked like.”

Dorothea quickly scribbled a box with black and white bars in it in the margins. There were seven white sections, with two pairs of black sections at the top.

“Oh. So each white bar is a full step?”

“Not quite. Each two bars is a full step. Black and white included.”

“Okay, I get it! If you were to start with this key right above C, then you would skip this white key and go onto this black one!”

“Yes, and can you guess what that black key is called?”

“Uh, D?”

“See, that would make too much sense. The black keys are only named in terms of how they relate to the white keys. Since this key is one half-step above C, we call it C sharp. Or, since it’s also one half-step below D, it’s also D flat. They’re interchangeable.”

“So the white keys determine the name…” I pointed to the white key next to C. “This one is D, then, and is one whole step above C.”

“Mhm! And the next one is E, then F, then G, then…”

“Well, H, of course.”

“No. It goes to A.”

I sputtered like a dying horse. “That’s dumb… is it– hang on– is it because this pattern repeats?

“Right in one, but now it’s an octave higher. It’s the difference between ‘do’ and ‘do’.” The second one was a lot higher in pitch.

“Oh, I think I understand now! Thank you so much!”

“It’s no problem. Seeing you get all excited like that is adorable– especially since you’re usually working with that scowl plastered on all the time.”

I sighed, utterly defeated. “Oh… C’mon…”

~~~

When I awoke, I was not awake.

I was in my small room at Garreg Mach, so I didn’t immediately assume that this was a dream. I tried to rise, but found that I couldn’t move. In fact, I could barely force my lungs to fill and then deflate. My arms and legs felt like they were made of stone, so heavy that I couldn’t move them no matter how much I struggled. My every nerve was alight, frenzied with action that could not act.

Somewhat oddly, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but think to myself: did I not prepare well enough? Did I not lock the door? Because he had found a way inside. He was hiding in the shadows. 

He found a way inside.

He’s hiding in the shadows.

He locked me in my skin.

He’s holding Katáktisi.

~~~

The day had finally come for the climactic Battle of the Eagle and Lion. It felt as though the entire monastery was abuzz with anticipation, as was the ride over to Gronder Field. The atmosphere had been present for the entire month, but now that the time was upon us, the energy was almost electric. Everyone seemed really excited and confident in their victory. 

The Golden Deer were sure to cook up some schemes. Their leader, Claude if I remembered correctly, seemed partial to that sort of thing and was a competent tactician– I had seen him beat Lorenz once at chess. I hadn’t exactly been able to ahead before the main envoy of students and Knights and comb the future battlefield for any traps and schemes that may have been planted there. I hadn’t looked when we had set up the ballista, but I knew that the terrain itself was pretty balanced.

The Black Eagles were the biggest wildcard. I knew comparatively little about them or their general strategy– they were competent, of course, just as much as any of the other two houses. I knew Petra, Dorothea, that Bernie character… and that was really about it. At least for the Leicester Alliance, I knew Ignatz, Lorenz, Marianne, and Leonie. By contrast, I couldn’t say anything definitive about the Adrestian Empire or how they would act in the battle.

The Blue Lions, of course, had my vote. Not only did they have the advantage of having Dimitri, but they also had Professor Byleth. The other two houses didn’t have Manuela or Hanneman, as they had elected to sit out the fight due to the former’s injuries during last moon. Although admittedly, even if they had attended, Byleth was a much better fighter than either of them.

The weather was nice. Blue skies and an easy breeze… perfect weather for a battle. Rhea, Seteth, and a long batch of Knights of Seiros in ceremonial armor were set up on a cliff overlooking Gronder Field proper. An eagle’s screech pierced the sky.

“The Battle of the Eagle and Lion is set to begin at long last,” Dimitri said. I could barely hear him from this far away. “Everyone, show off the results of your dedicated training!” He raised his voice to issue a message to his opponents. “You should all know I am not about to go easy on you today!”

“Remember, we’re not just fighting for honor!” Claude hollered. “There’s a prize at stake! And as long as we pull off the win, doesn’t matter how.”

“It’s almost time to begin,” Edelgard reminded. “Our victory must be absolute. Steel yourselves, everyone.”

Byleth readied the Sword of the Creator, and locked eyes with me from far below. Waiting for the signal that was sure to come. Or maybe she was looking at Rhea. I couldn’t tell given how far away we were from them. That sounded a lot more plausible.

“It is time,” Seteth announced. A Knight raised a great banner emblazoned with the sigil of the Adrestian Empire. At least, I thought it was. Clearly that was the signal everyone was waiting for, as the three houses immediately surged forth. My eyes were locked on the Blue Lions and Flayn for some reason, who were met with the disadvantage of being separated from the mainland by a small river. There were two bridges to the east and west, each of which the other two forces made haste to send a small group to capture. It was clear to me that the winner would be decided by whoever took the central hill. Since the Battle of the Eagle and Lion was scored by the last house standing and by whichever house that defeated the most enemies, being able to steal eliminations with the central ballista was a huge advantage.

The Blue Lion house fanned out in two wings to take the bridges. Sylvain, Dimitri, Mercedes, Annette, and Felix moved east to tackle the Empire, whereas Ashe, Dedue, Ingrid, Byleth, and Flayn took on the Alliance forces to the west. Meanwhile, the Golden Deer and Black Eagles finally reached the central hill– however, since the Alliance’s resident non-Claude archer, Ignatz, was busy getting pummeled by Byleth, they couldn’t use the ballista to its greatest effect. Besides, with the Eagles also occupying the high ground, it wouldn’t be very beneficial in the moment anyway.

Felix broke through Ferdinand on the eastern front. With the Eagles shoved back, the Lions quickly pushed further into Empire territory. Sylvain, being mounted, split from the main group to help quell the Alliance’s hold on the bridge, which had just received reinforcements by means of Lorenz and Raphael. The other four moved to join the battle on the hill, and a three-way deadlock quickly formed. None of them wanted to give up the high ground, but they also couldn’t use the ballista on top, either.

A contingent of Imperial forces slipped over the northern side of the hill and bulldozed straight into the Alliance forces, hoping to take out Claude as quickly as possible to reduce Leicester morale and get rid of their tactician. They scored a number of eliminations, knocking down both Marianne and Lysithea at the cost of Caspar and Linhardt. Even despite their losses, the remaining attackers were able to break through the Deers’ defensive line. This forced Raphael to abandon the fight with the Lions to quell the new front, which allowed the remaining Lions to overpower Lorenz– did Ashe just use Dedue as a springboard?

“Heya, Stink,” 'Monica'’s overly cheery voice cut in.

“Ah!” I muttered, surprised by the outburst. “'Monica', shouldn’t you be down there? Y’know, fighting?”

She shook her head dismissively. “I was in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion last year. Feels unfair to throw me in there again, huh?” The last sentence of I would kill all those human beasts without any hesitation whatsoever did not need to be said. “Plus, I’m still recovering from last month’s ‘incident’.”

The Agarthan wearing Monica’s skin aggressively ruffled my hair, momentarily exposing my ears for all the world to see. I quickly and discreetly adjusted them before anyone could take notice, but if she saw, she hid it very well. 

Hold a moment– did she call me Stink ?

Yes, Katáktisi informed.

Wonderful, I drawled. I turned my attention back to the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. The western bridge had fallen to the Kingdom forces. Now the Blue Lion house was throwing its full weight at the central hill. Furthermore, since the only two people left who could use the ballista were Ashe and Claude, they became prime targets for the other houses. It was a shame Bernadetta had fallen so early, although maybe that was part of the opponents’ strategy.

The modus operandi of the Blue Lions and Golden Deer became ‘protect the archers’, while the prime directive of the Black Eagles became ‘take down the archers’.

“Hilda! Hilda! Hilda!” Hilda, presumably, cheered for some reason. Unfortunately, the aforementioned Hilda was so busy celebrating her victory over Petra that she created a vulnerability in the Golden Deer’s formation, which Dimitri was quick to take advantage of by beelining for Claude.

“Hey, Your Highness!” von Riegan greeted far too cheerfully given the situation. “If you promise to let me have the prize, I’ll let you have the honor of victory. Do we have a deal?”

“Enough of your foolishness! I–” Dimitri started before recollecting himself. “Wait a moment. You are trying to anger me, is that it?”

“Hah! Saw right through me, did you? Well, if there’s no deal, I’ll just have to win this thing fair and square!”

“I will happily face you here and now,” Dimitri stated, knowing full well that this would decide the whole battle. “Do not hold back, Claude!”

“Well, no time like the present!” The crown prince was immediately swarmed by at least fifteen generic Leicester swordsmen. I watched Ingrid swoop down out of nowhere to deal with them– didn’t she know that fliers got decimated by arrows? She was one shot away from being downed. Claude’s arrow flew, striking her mount in the chest and knocking its rider clean off. But Ingrid’s sacrifice was not in vain, as it gave Dimitri a perfect opportunity to take down the enemy commander.

“Sorry, but it’s about time I made my exit,” Claude admitted, stumbling backwards at the might of the blow. “The rest of you, please finish the job!” Ironically, the Alliance combatants fell rather quickly after that– I guessed losing a leader was a big hit to morale. With the Lions being the only ones left who could use the ballista, they formed a defensive barrier around the hill, allowing Ashe to score a number of eliminations from a distance using the siege equipment.

“This is boring,” ‘Monica’ complained. “Where’s the brutality? The bloodshed?”

“They’re not trying to kill each other.”

“Then what’s even the point?” How on earth did ‘Monica’ expect to explain away this massive shift in personality? Nobody was this bloodthirsty out of the gate. People probably assumed it was some kind of response to her treatment at the hands of the Death Knight, but I felt that explanation was flimsy at best.

The Eagles made one last charge.

“If you stand in my way,” Edelgard challenged Byleth, “I will cut you down until you have no blood left to bleed.” Byleth said nothing in response, expressionless. “What? I was just trying to rally your spirits. Now, to victory!”

The fighting continued for some time. To be quite frank, the mental energy it had taken to observe and take note of what everyone was doing earlier in the battle had left me a bit… frazzled, and I wasn’t really as into it as I was when all three houses were still in the fight and it could be anyone’s game. There wasn’t any tension because I knew the Blue Lion house would win. They had already scored more eliminations and had won control of the ballista. Victory was inevitable.

“That is the end of this year’s Battle of the Eagle and Lion!” Seteth announced. “And the winners are… The Blue Lions!”

~~~

“Well done, Your Princeliness,” Claude was saying. I decided I liked Claude. He was funny and chill. Although the easy grin that was always plastered to his face never seemed to reach his eyes… “I’m certainly not in any hurry to get on your bad side.”

We were on the way back to Garreg Mach from Gronder. The air was jubilant with a mixture of relief. I sensed it even vicariously. “I assumed you would attack us head-on,” Edelgard said. “Clearly, I need to rethink my opinion of you. Well done, Dimitri.”

“You both deserve equal praise for a battle well fought. All three houses did extremely well. Don’t you agree, Professor?”

Byleth shrugged. “They were both strong.”

“Clearly not strong enough,” Edelgard commented. “If there’s ever a next time, know that–”

“Hey, princess!” Claude interjected. “Heads up– there’s a rat right by your Imperial feet!”

The heir apparent nearly jumped out of her skin. “ Bah! I– ” She took a second to realize that there was no such mouse present at all. “How dare you make a fool of me! You will not rile me with such childish tactics!”

“Ah, so the sheer terror in your eyes was… something else entirely,” Claude teased. “My mistake. Anyways, it was only a joke. And in any case, I hope the day never comes when we have to put this experience to use.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Edelgard countered. Dimitri took a double take. “I’d accept a challenge from either of you at any time.”

“...”

“...”

“I’m kidding, of course!”

“That is nothing to joke about. The true Battle of the Eagle and Lion is best left in the past. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they changed the name of this mock battle.”

“Let’s do our best to get along,” Byleth affirmed.

“How admirable, Teach! On that note, I have a proposition. When we get back to Garreg Mach, let’s have a grand feast to break down the walls of our respective houses… and by ‘grand’ feast, I mean a fairly regular sized feast in the dining hall.” Hm. Maybe I would have to swing by this fairly regular sized feast in the dining hall once all was said and done.

“You really value that kind of thing, don’t you?” Edelgard observed. “Well, I suppose no harm can come from it. Count me in.”

“I have no objections, either. And you, professor?” And he said he wasn’t into the professor like that. I knew he was telling the truth, but still.

Byleth smirked. “We’ll celebrate our victory.”

Dimitri gaped like a dying fish. “Oh! I don’t think that’s the point… um, Professor… was that a joke?

“You look so… happy. I love seeing you like this. I suppose that look on your face is just another boon from this glorious day. Perhaps the best one of all.”

“Get a room, Dima,” I grumbled, hopping out of this cart in search of less nauseating conversation. Dimitri was great– he sort of felt like an older brother at this point– but I did not understand what was going through his head at all. Byleth was… she was alright, but she was so flat. It was all of Shamir’s deadpanness without the Shamir beneath that, with an unhealthy addition of time travel. And if anyone knew how bad time travel was to any extent, it was me.

I hopped into another cart, which contained Dedue, Linhardt’s unconscious body, and Ingrid. The first and last were in a conversation. If this went how their last interaction had gone–

“I’m the one who owes you an apology,” Ingrid was saying. Oh. Good. “You’ve saved my life… how many times now? If I keep being so callous, I’ll seem ungrateful.”

“No matter,” Dedue stated matter-of-factly.

“But–”

“I’m accustomed to it.” Ugh, here he went again.

Ingrid sighed, and turned away from the bigger man. “I’m sorry, Dedue.”

He seemed surprised. “Why?”

“Because the way I speak to you is unnecessarily harsh. The truth of it is… I lost someone very dear to me in Duscur. The punishment came swift to your people, and when I heard of the slaughters… Well, I thought it was a punishment well earned. I thought the people cruel and heartless, deserving of the tragedy that ultimately befell them.” Dedue did not respond for a long time. “But you?” Ingrid continued. “You’re different. You seem nothing like the people of whom I speak, and to be quite honest? I believe that maybe those people were never there to begin with.

“So why not speak back against how I and so many others felt? Why not question this unfair prejudice, and tell me to my face that I had no right to judge you?” Her hand tightened into a fist, and her eyes closed. “If you would just speak to me… if you would just tell me the truth about all of this…” 

“I do not know the truth of it, myself,” Dedue admitted. “His Highness says the tragedy was not the fault of my people. But just like anywhere, there were many different people in Duscur. Some very good, and others very bad. It is not unimaginable that some may have conspired to take part in that wickedness. Perhaps we are merely victims. Or perhaps we are regicidal monsters.”

“There’s no ‘we’ here,” I blurted. “Even if you’re right, and Duscur did perpetrate the Tragedy, nobody should be allowed to hold that against people like you. That’s like saying that everyone in the Empire was involved with the Insurrection of the Seven.”

“Link.”

“Dedue.”

“Yes. Whatever the truth of it is, you are not to blame,” Ingrid agreed flatly. “The people I hate were the ones responsible for all that mess. You… you just got caught up in all of it.”

“Ingrid…”

“You’ve rushed to my side– you’ve saved me countless times. I am sorry for how I’ve treated you. Truly.” I could tell that she meant it.

“If you think of me as your ally, that will suffice,” Dedue assured. I could tell that he meant it too. Internally, I thought it wasn’t enough.

~~~

This fairly regular sized feast in the dining hall was pretty good, actually.

I was surrounded by a throng of other students. Raphael was loudly stuffing his face on my left side, and Byleth was doing the exact same thing on my right. I could hear Lysithea grumbling about the sweets-vegetables ratio to a very much disinterested Linhardt. The lords were metaphorically letting their hair down on the far side of the table. Leonie and Mercedes were busy talking about the Battle, Sylvain was hitting on women– which at this point I couldn’t even be surprised by– and Hubert was off in a corner doing his ‘inscrutable dark and shady tall retainer guy’ routine. Ingrid was being aggressively makeup’d by Hilda, Annette, and Dorothea. Ferdinand and Lorenz were off having a nice cup of tea away from the riffraff, across from Marianne and a girl with messy, purple hair– the former of which was probably only there to avoid the more boisterous fate I had been subjected to. It was to the point that I almost couldn’t enjoy the tasty food– apparently, it was a Duscur-style curry whipped up by Ashe and Dedue, and boy was I glad I had tampered with that food order back in the Verdant Rain Moon because it was divine . Arguably more so than the progenitor ‘god’ herself.

Raphael got up to presumably get fourths, which gave me some much-needed breathing space. I hated eating with people. I felt like I didn’t deserve to be privy to their conversations; I wasn’t a member of the Officer’s Academy, and furthermore, I didn’t have very much to say. On top of all of that, I preferred to just get in, eat, and get out. It saved time, which allowed me to get more work done in a given day. Still, being included sometimes was nice.

I allowed the sounds of merriment to wash over me. With the end of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion came the great release of all that pent-up anxiety, and now everyone was just having a good time. I could hear the sounds of Caspar and Petra having an impromptu arm-wrestling contest, Ignatz nerding out about paints in Flayn’s general direction, and Felix was nowhere to be seen in the slightest. Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard were now talking about the upcoming White Heron Cup, which apparently was a dance competition between the three houses set to occur during the Ethereal Moon. I vaguely remembered there being a dance around then last year, but I had known little about the cup.

I was stirred from my thoughts by the loud clank of china on wood. I looked down in surprise to find that a massive slab of meat on a plate had been set in front of me. Strangely, I hadn’t even remembered finishing off my actual meal. Bewildered, I looked up at a very expectant Raphael.

“If you wanted me to move, you could have just said so,” I said, a bit miffed.

“What? Nah! This is for you, Link!” the bigger man exclaimed, beaming widely.

I nearly choked on my own surprise. “I– what? If I wanted more, I would have gotten it.”

“But you barely ate anything!” he explained, as though it were supremely obvious. “Heck, even my little sis eats more than that! No wonder you look like a stick bug!”

I pivoted to face the wide Leicesterian. “Raphael, with all due respect, I could never hope to match your eating habits.”

“That’s just ‘cause you’re not trying hard enough! How are you supposed to grow big and strong if you’re starving yourself?” He raised his right arm, and I could see the fabric of his shirt straining against the muscles within.

“Not all of us have the luxury of being able to eat whatever and however much they want,” I snapped. I immediately regretted using that tone. He had just been trying to help…

“But you’re at the monastery now. And the dining hall’s all you can eat, so there’s no problem!”

“Raphael–”

“C’mon, it’ll be good for you! I promise!”

I groaned to myself. Raphael wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer, and something told me he was going to keep pestering me if I didn’t just capitulate. I would just have to, for lack of a better term, eat the loss. What was the worst that could happen? Besides, if Raphael was any metric to go by, maybe this would accelerate the termination of my physical dysphoria.

Do not seriously tell me you’re been bested by this wall of meat, Katáktisi drawled.

Hey , I complained. It’s not like changing your mind is tantamount to defeat.

It explicitly is. Your ideals are molded into those of your opponent.

By that logic, didn’t I defeat you on the moon?

Silence.

By your own admission, you would have consumed me, I argued. But you didn’t. So obviously, your ideals changed.

Your logic is tortured and your words muddled, the Crestwraith snarled. But it said no more.

“Ugh, fine,” I capitulated, picking my fork from the cleaned plate. “Just this once.”

“Alright!” Raphael cheered. “Lemme go get fifths and I’ll be right back, haha!”

~~~

I didn’t remember going to sleep, but when I woke up, I felt sick to my stomach. Literally. For some reason, my entire midsection was cramped something fierce. On top of that, a wave of drowsiness was still clinging to my mind. I was normally so much more… normal than this. That wasn’t saying much, but still. What gives?

The answer came to me soon enough.

I was going to kill Raphael when I recovered from this.

I think I’m going to call it off there.

Review please! 

Louie Yang (FF): I mean, being pals with Byleth seems to be a good enough reason for classmates that were recruited in the monastery phase. I probably will be forced to give out a Read And Find Out (RAFO) card on that front, though.

HiIExist (FF): Yeah, giving Link new toys to play around with is definitely in the cards. I also intend to give some of his other items a couple of upgrades like I did with Farore’s Wind, so stay tuned for that.

quadjot (AO3): I decided to give the Fierce Deity an upgraded design only during a later chapter and had to retroactively mention the change from Majora’s Mask, so you might be waiting on that proper description for a while. I promise it’ll be worth the wait, though!

Equalized Enigma (FF): For sure! I definitely see the Hero of Time as being a very stoic sort of guy mainly because he’s compensating for being a victim of Time Travel (patent pending). I do have intentions of letting him ease up as the story goes along, as he becomes more comfortable in his own skin. On an unrelated note, congratulations on being this story’s 100th review/comment!

Espada-001 (FF): Hi, welcome to my story! I’ve definitely nerfed Link a lot for the start of this story (perhaps a bit overzealously), and you’re far from the only person to question that. My logic for making Link not quite as strong as the other characters (at least initially) was partially for the sake of ensuring that Link didn’t break the story progression by existing, because I felt that if he was too strong he could cause some plot issues– and make the Fódlan characters feel like an afterthought, which I wanted to avoid. There’s also the fact that Fódlan’s combat is very offense oriented, whereas Hyrule and Termina are more defense oriented– the style of fighting that excels at beating enemies in Hyrule/Termina (I can beat OoT MQ with three hearts and no shield and no fairies without ever dying because attacks are rare and the most important thing is waiting for the enemy’s guard to drop) is one that kind of gets hard countered in Fódlan. Then there’s a bunch of small things like dysphoria, not using his various items, etc. that help account for the discrepancy. I have given Link plenty of strides in improving his abilities to internalize the techniques of Hyrule, Termina, and Fódlan since Chapter 2; by this chapter, he could probably go toe to toe with most of the students in a 1-on-1 without access to his items and best many of the adults with them– and that’s not including Katáktisi. Thanks for your review, I really appreciate it!

DarthFlores (FF): A full year? That’s wild to think about. It’s been fun for me, and I certainly hope it’s been fun for you all as well! I like Ingrid, but she really needs to be confronted about Duscur for her character arc to go forward. It barely happens in Three Houses, so I wanted to use her Dedue supports to really drive that home and help change her mind. Regarding the post timeskip (which I think I’ve almost hit!) I’d say that the general angstiness of the story goes down as Link matures as a character and comes into his own. I did try to write that exact scene you’re talking about, but in the end I’ll have to give you a RAFO card for it.

Gundam-Knight-Chris (FF): I’ll be the first to admit that I’m taking the plot slow and steady. I like to let the story breathe, explore character interactions, and build up to future chapters; while I’ve tried not to let that kill the pacing, I can see where you’re coming from. I do have to take a bit of umbrage on the comment that Link doesn’t feel like Link; I’ve always read Link as someone who’s very stoic and willing to stick his neck out for someone else, but also doesn’t like the idea that someone else would do the same for him. He’s also pretty busy trying to figure himself out, figure this strange new world out, deal with his mental problems from Hyrule and Termina, and help others where he can. I understand that my portrayal of Link isn’t exactly a popular take, so I don’t begrudge anyone who disagrees with me.

ChankoLegacy (FF): I am humbled and honored to be in your presence! Support Conversations with the Hero of Time was one of my main inspirations for putting Cobalt Crescent to paper, so I have you to thank for all of this!

Generally, when I write Link being sarcastic, it’s mainly to express dislike for being talked down to (even if he’s totally not). Basically, it’s a reflection of his internal frustration at his own physical form. I just think that works a little better with the themes and tone of the story as a whole. I wrote him to be smart in certain circumstances, weirdly enough, to reflect the fact that Zelda is a puzzle game– Link is good at taking information that is available to him and coming up with answers or solutions to the task at hand. It’s kind of like Intelligence versus Wisdom in DnD– Intelligence is knowing that tomatoes are fruit, and Wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad; I think it’s fair to say that Link has a pretty good Wisdom score. He’s street-smart. I don’t know why I explained it in so many ways. The scenes you mentioned with Cyril and Jeritza are good examples; in the first Link goes “I’m on a bell tower -> the bells are about to toll -> That might trigger a panic attack because of my experiences in Termina -> Cyril doesn’t know about that -> I should warn Cyril”, and in the second Link goes “The Death Knight has brown hair -> We’re in Jeritza’s secret basement -> Manuela was stabbed while holding Jeritza’s mask -> Jeritza is probably the Death Knight”. It’s not like Link knew ‘yeah, that guy’s evil’ as soon as they met in Chapter 5, and he probably only pieced it together a couple of hours before the rest of the monastery did the same.

On another note, I adore the idea of making Link more or a refined speaker as the story progresses! I wish I had thought of that, because that’s so much more interesting than what I was planning. It’s a bit late to implement that, though, so I’ll simply have to keep trucking along with what we’ve got. My initial thought would be that the whole time travel thing forced him to grow a more mature and cynical mentality, as you said, and that would be something that he tries to shed as the story progresses. I have written a good amount of teen Link, and I think it’s going to work out. I completely agree with you that everyone writes characters differently, and that it’s really a reflection of the author’s voice– my authorial voice is pretty serious and… I don’t want to say ‘refined’ because that sounds pretentious, but I think that shows in how I write Link. It’s not better nor worse than how anyone else writes Link, but it’s not for everyone and that’s totally okay!

Link working with the Agarthans was something I didn’t plan at the start, but came as a natural consequence of how I implemented Katáktisi (I got really good at pronouncing that because I say it to myself so much haha). Seteth and Flayn have been some of my favorite characters to write, Cyril’s underrated IMO, and Rhea will be getting her own dedicated scene pretty soon as well. I’m looking forward to uploading it!

Sorry for dropping such a massive response– there was so much to talk about! Thank you very much for your great review– I’ll have a lot to think about as the story progresses!

Chapter Text

Chonker of a chapter inbound. I’ve recently been thinking about adding a voice cast for Katáktisi, but I’m currently torn between Darth Malak from KOTOR and AM from the radio play of I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream.

Chapter XV

If the goddess was capable of giving omens, the dusting of hoarfrost that blanketed the monastery on the first of the Red Wolf Moon was a pretty damning one. Garreg Mach was situated at the center of the continent, which meant that it would be a lot warmer than in Faerghus. The fact that it was already snowing heralded a frigid winter. Snow was nice and cute when it was something to be observed from far away. But when I was actually in the thick of it, I wanted nothing more than to go back inside and nurse a nice cup of hot cocoa. Unfortunately, work still needed to be done regardless of the weather. Although this… wasn’t exactly in my usual list of duties.

“So you’re saying your daughter entered this coma…” I reiterated, scrawling notes in my newly-purchased notebook. I didn’t want to have to crack open the Bomber’s Notebook again. It was getting cramped , which was a sentence I never thought I’d say. That thing was deceptively spacious, even after all my escapades in Termina.

“On the twenty-seventh of the Wyvern Moon,” the old lady responded, worry evident in her voice and in the frenzied tapping of her fingers on the antique oak table. “She doesn’t eat or drink, or…” She closed her eyes in a silent prayer. 

“What was she doing when this happened?” Shamir pushed.

“I don’t know? She seemed fine the day before, and then… she didn’t wake up. Oh goddess, please save my daughter…”

Catherine was standing over the bedridden woman, an inscrutable expression on her face. The Church had received reports of several cases such as these in the neighboring Remire Village. Professor Manuela was already swamped in older cases, so despite our lack of training in the medical arts, Shamir and Catherine were tasked with managing the surplus. I had just decided to come along for the ride.

I scribbled down the old lady’s testimony. The symptoms of whatever disease was ravaging Remire were so varied. The last patient we had gone to had to be locked in their room for their own safety– whatever this was, it had made them prone to fits of unparalleled violence. The victim before that was a nervous wreck. Whatever was causing this had to be psychological in nature. And the smell…

I could feel Thunderbrand thrumming from its place at Catherine’s hip. It was an angry vibration. Like it, too, was teetering on the brink between silence and madness. A part of me wanted to whip out my ocarina and blast the Song of Healing as loudly as I could. If it was a curse of some kind, perhaps it would help, as it had helped me all that time ago when I was trapped in the body of a Deku Scrub. I sensed Katáktisi’s objection before it could make it. Doing such a thing– releasing the agonies and regrets of those in earshot– would raise questions. Too many questions. It would direct attention towards myself from the Church, and may dig up the lie I had been carefully keeping buried all this time.

“Are you writing all of this down?”

“Of course, Shamir,” I confirmed.

“This is an affront to the goddess,” Catherine concluded. “Don’t worry, ma’am– the Knights of Seiros will save your daughter. And if someone is responsible for this…” Her hand clenched into a fist. “We will serve them justice.”

“Bless you, Thunder Catherine! Oh, bless you!”

We left the house, the stinging Red Wolf air biting at our skin. “There’s no rhyme or reason to any of these patients!” the swordmaster complained. “Nor any inkling of how to solve it! It’s infuriating!”

“We should leave the diagnosis to Manuela,” Shamir advised in that flat way of hers.

“Can they wait that long?” I demanded. I took a long lungful of winter air through my nose. “There’s something on the breeze. Something foul… It could be sickness, it could be poison… it could be dark magic. Or it may be the stench of misery. If I had to guess, I’d say it was that.”

It did smell familiar. It smelled like Majora.

I tugged my hat a little further down my head. The sounds of distress was all I could hear. I couldn’t help but try to blot it out as much as possible, to save myself the guilt of not being able to do anything to stop it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shamir asked as we entered another building. We could already hear the banging of whichever infected was inside. Shoot, I was hoping she would have taken that figuratively…

You have made a grave error, Katáktisi remarked. Why would you even bring up Μιζέρια at a time like this?

Because I wanted to help the people of Remire. If Misery truly is responsible for this–

Impossible, it reasoned. We forced Μιζέρια into a catatonic state on the moon. There is no easy cure for that.

Didn’t Odesse say that they were able to restore Φρίκη? My friendly upstairs Crestwraith was silent.

“Back home, one of the gods of our pantheon was a destroyer,” I quickly ad libbed. “It was called Misery. It was said to take the form of a multicolored mask that bewitched the mind and ensnared the senses. You could tell who was under its control, supposedly, by the smell of hopelessness and fear. I thought Remire was a pretty good match.”

“It’s a better theory than nothing, that’s for damn sure,” Catherine admitted. “We should inform Lady Rhea.” My blood ran cold. That was the opposite of what I wanted!

“That’s– I doubt it,” I hastened to clarify. I hoped they couldn’t sense my nervousness as I jotted down notes on this patient. I was probably safe from Catherine, but Shamir was a whole other beast. “No one in Fódlan believes in those gods. Their existence is at odds with what the Church of Seiros teaches, after all.”

“True,” the Knight of Seiros admitted, “but do we have any other options?” I bit my tongue, hard.

~~~

“Professor!” Leonie called. “Captain Jeralt just told me. Remire Village is in a bad way, right?”

“The situation there is worrying, yes,” the aforementioned Captain said. “But tell me, how’s your vertigo?” Vertigo? Was Byleth feeling unwell? She certainly had been pushing herself recently…

“I’m fine. Really, I am,” the ex-merc assured unconfidently.

“Were you not feeling okay?” Leonie asked. “You seem fine to me.”

“I hope you’re not just saying that. We can’t have you putting on a brave face only to fall in battle.”

“I’d be happy to assist in any way that I can,” I chimed in. “Speaking of– Mr Jeralt, I noticed you were running low on salve, so I went ahead and restocked your quarters for you.”

“I would rather you have asked before going through my things,” the older man admonished, “but thank you.”

My thoughts lingered on Remire. Shamir, Catherine, and I had spent the entire day going through every new case. At the rate of new patients, by tomorrow it would be more than any of us could handle alone or in small groups. This was truly a trying time. Psychotic breakdowns, spontaneous comas, waking dreams and mental deterioration… it was a bit much. It felt like the final hours of Termina, stretched over many days’ time. Without the moon, fortunately.

It was 10:57 A.M. and I hadn’t slept yesterday, so at this point I was all but falling asleep by the time I reached my dormitory. I traversed the area, going more by instinct and memory than by vision. But as I reached for the doorknob, something caught my eye that I did not expect. Inside appeared to be a lit candle. I was surprised that it had continued to burn, since I hadn’t been here since yesterday morning. I shook the drowsiness out of my eyes, and pushed the door open on well-oiled hinges.

Immediately, Katáktisi screamed for me to draw my blade. I questioned why for half a moment, only for the realization to hit me like a tidal wave.

I was not alone.

There was a middle-aged man seated on my bed. His hair was slicked back in a long mullet, his beard perfectly trimmed. He was adorned in beige and plum colored fabric, the markings of the Adrestian Empire very visible on his person. This must have been a high-ranking noble. His eyes were locked onto me, sizing me up like a piece of meat. If this was the kind of thing that people like Sylvain had to deal with all the time, well… it would certainly explain Sylvain’s assessment of most of the upper class.

“You must beg my sincerest forgiveness,” I said, bowing to show that I was not a threat. “I must have entered the wrong room.” I knew that was untrue, but I didn’t want to accidentally insult this guy. With a stare that intense, I didn’t want to risk anything. “Are you here to visit someone? If so, I could–”

Abruptly, he stood, towering over my short height. My hand drifted to my pouch, just in case. “No. You are exactly where I want you to be. You are this ‘Link’ I’ve heard so much about, are you not?” 

He knew my name?! My hands immediately dove into my pouch, scrabbling for purchase on the hilt of the Great Fairy’s Sword. This was a threat, nothing more and nothing less.

Kneel, the Crestwraith demanded, sounding almost panicked. That was certainly a change of pace from a couple of moments ago.

Wait, what? What gives? I’m not going to prostate some creep because he found his way to my room!

You do not understand. This is the Agastya; this is he who shall tear the infidels from the teats of the false god! Now– kneel before him! Death shall be your defiance’s only reward!

Agastya– that was a title I had heard from Odesse in Shambhala. This was the leader of the Agarthans, he who commanded their wrath. Now was not the time for pride. I immediately knelt reverently, putting my right hand to my left pectoral. “Our apologies, Agastya. We did not recognize you.”

His face remained perfectly neutral. “Of course not. My disguise is suited for its purpose.” Lord Volkhard von Arundel tilted his head upwards, as though his height advantage didn’t have him looking down on me enough as it was. “That matters not. Answer me, wretched creature–” I wasn’t sure exactly what he did, but suddenly I found that I could barely breathe. “Why did you slay Μιζέρια?”

I allowed Κατάκτηση control of my lips. If I did not, I would have sooner spat upon his boots for insulting me so. “I had no more choice in the matter than the wind can choose to blow,” we said. “This host was unruly. He used my power to cut down Μιζέρια before I could dominate him properly. Were I not able to convince him of our cause, I may have been lost as well.”

“Quite the strength your current host possesses. Where did you acquire it?” ‘Acquire’? The Agastya spoke of the process of consuming my spirit, mind, and body, and called it ‘acquiring’? A deep hatred simmered in my veins, but I stifled it. For now.

“It attempted to undo the machinations of Μιζέρια shortly before we would have consumed another world,” Katáktisi stated matter-of-factly. “It nearly succeeded in only three days. That spirit, yearning to be feasted upon, is what drew me to it. Like a moth to a flame.” I was stewing in revulsion at being called an ‘it’, but I knew it would make ‘Arundel’ less suspicious of the true nature of our bond.

“Do you not believe this to be unwise?”

“If Μιζέρια could be destroyed, it was weak,” Katáktisi spat. “Weakness has no place in your glorious design.”

The lord’s eyes narrowed. “Know that you will be held liable for your host’s weakness as well. Should you fail to conform it to our designs… you, Κατάκτηση, will be held responsible.

“Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”

“Naturally, Agastya,” the Crestwraith replied calmly. I swallowed my fear. If Katáktisi wanted to consume me, it would have done so a long time ago. It had cast its die, and its fate was sealed alongside mine.

“It is hardly ‘natural’, the Agarthan hissed. His voice lowered to a hateful snarl. “Φρίκη and Aγωνία lie in the hands of that traitor, Καϊάφας. Swayed to his side. Why should you not follow the same path?”

We tsked. “Μιζέρια, Φρίκη, and Aγωνία are just that– Misery, Horror, and Agony. They are irrationality, the fetid stench of the world’s most shameful fears. They care not for ideology, they exist in spite of it. But I am Κατάκτηση. I am all that is war, violence, and bloodlust. And war means nothing without code and creed. The path of the Agastya is the path that shall destroy what remains of the Nabateans, and that is the ideal that we strive for.”

The other Crestwraiths joined Caiaphas? I asked. But why?

Thales’ tactics have always been too subtle for our liking. Too slow, Katáktisi said. Once, I would have leapt at the chance to stamp out the spawn of the Fell Star. But now… that would mean losing you. And a victory over the children of the ‘goddess’ without you is hardly a victory at all.

Katáktisi’s lord seemed assuaged by this explanation. “Wipe your host’s mind of this interaction. We cannot risk it raising an alarm.” No, no, no– 

I am sorry. I am incapable of disobeying. “But of course, Agastya.” I begged Katáktisi to reconsider– I would never speak of this moment, I would never… uh…

Wait.

What was I talking about again? And who was this old man in my bedroom? When had he started to talk to me?

“Now, I have much business to attend to,” he was saying. “And I am sure that you do as well. While Solon is absent… do try to keep Kronya in line.” Who in Fodra, Hyrule, and Termina was Kronya? That wasn’t a name I had heard from anyone. Was he Agarthan? Maybe she was ‘Monica’’s doppelgänger?

“Your will is my conviction,” Katáktisi said through me. A seed of horror built within the dark corners of my mind. Did you–

I did wipe your memory of the event. As I once swore never to do, it confessed. The noble nodded darkly, before standing and exiting my room, the door slamming behind him with a sense of utter finality. I will return it now.

A wave of stabbing anemoia washed over me, as the events of the previous couple minutes inserted themselves perfectly into my recollection. At once, I understood the danger that man posed. That was the Agastya– the tyrant who ruled over all Agartha. I know why you did that, and while I don’t approve of it, I at least understand.

That is all I ask.

So 'Monica', ‘Tomas’, the Salesman, and now this guy, I mused. That’s four disguised Agarthans we know. They’re everywhere.

More than that. They have agents within the Kingdom as well. I suspect that gremory Arnim is also among their number.

Cornelia? She was the Court Mage who had served King Lambert, lauded for saving the country from a brutal plague that had swept the nation a number of years ago, long before I had arrived on the scene. Dima had always warned me to steer clear of her. Obviously His Highness didn’t know that she was an Agarthan in disguise, but I guess he could on some level tell the difference between the real Cornelia and the fake one. Thanks for telling me, I guess.

You are welcome.

~~~

After being confronted by the Agastya just last night, a summons from Archbishop Rhea herself was not what I needed. I took a deep breath and entered her study, located on the highest story of the chapel as if to be closer to the lying goddess above. She was present, of course– still wearing the same church regalia as always. A cup of tea rested on her desk, issuing steam from its surface. The room smelled of fresh pine needles. I had never come up here before. Considering its purpose, it was a nice place.

“You sent for me?” I asked timidly, trying to exude only passivity in my voice.

“I did indeed,” Rhea said warmly. “Please, take a seat.”

It would be rude not to do so, so I perched myself on the opposite side of her desk, pausing before I met her eyes. “If I may be so bold, Lady Rhea, what is the purpose of this meeting? My schedule is quite packed today.” Katáktisi and I quickly scanned the room for the most effective route of egress, as well as whatever objects she would most likely use as a weapon if it came to that. I didn’t need to worry about my own armaments– if she wanted to tussle, the Fierce Deity could tussle .

“It is nothing serious,” the Nabatean assured, sipping her cup of tea. “I understand that you have been at the monastery for more than a year now, and while your line of work does not frequently interact with mine, I first want to say that your effect on the monastery cannot be questioned. I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for being a part of our community, Link.”

“I…” I didn’t know what to say. I thought I was going to be the one sucking up to her in this conversation to prevent her from becoming suspicious of me . “Thank you?”

She laughed softly. “You seem surprised. Do you think you are undeserving of such words?”

“Well, I…” I hesitated. “Maybe? It’s more the fact that I didn’t come in expecting praise, especially not from someone from your station.”

“I see.” She set her cup down and leaned slightly forwards, locking eye contact with me. I tensed up somewhat, primed to run. “Of course, if I had wanted only to compliment your work ethic, I would have come to you myself. I simply wished to expand my own perspective on… recent events.”

I nodded. “It has been a very… busy year for the Church. First Professor Byleth appeared, then Lord Lonato started his rebellion with an attempt on your life, Flayn disappeared… and now there’s the illness in Remire.”

“I have asked these questions of Cyril, as well as many of the other students and staff. What do you think of the Church’s actions in regards to these events?”

“For the most part, I think they have been harsh, but at least somewhat understandable,” I said, each word placed as carefully as a Bomb Flower. “Generally, I think many of my personal disagreements come from the Church’s seeming directive to not change the status quo as opposed to trying to make the systems of Fódlan better for everyone.” Rhea’s expression soured. “Of course, there may be variables that my reach is too limited to be able to take into account,” I hastily added. If the Archbishop was appeased by that statement, she did not show it.

“There are many factions in Fódlan. Many of them are very misguided,” Rhea stated after some deliberation. “The nobility and their fixation on Crests, for example. Please tell me– what have you noticed about the dormitories of the Officer’s Academy?”

“The commoner dorms are on the first floor, whereas the nobles live on the second,” I recalled.

Rhea nodded in confirmation. “When the Academy opened its doors centuries ago, there was no class divide between living spaces. But the nobles insisted, and since many of their donations fund the Church, it was necessary to segregate them. The fact that nobles and commoners alike attended the same classes would have to suffice for the time being.

“While the Church does hold much power, making grand changes over a short period of time would cause chaos and would allow… bad actors to swallow Fódlan. Such sweeping change would compromise the continent. It has been seen in the past with the rise of Nemesis– the destruction of the wicked gods is what began the War of Heroes. Retaliation against those forces is the just punishment of the goddess.” 

Something about that rubbed me the completely wrong way, but I swallowed my tongue. “I see… Wait. Didn’t Nemesis gain his power from the progenitor god?”

“Even change that seems to be for good can have consequences that are very bad,” Rhea said. She had thought of that argument. “When handed great power, only those with great restraint can use it well, lest they descend into tyranny. Those who are not prophets of the goddess, like Seiros and the Four Saints, cannot know what is truly good or ill. They lack their foresight and their wisdom. The goddess believed that Nemesis and his allies were wise enough to shoulder such responsibility, and they were for a time. But the temptation of power is an insidious thing, especially after she departed from this world.”

“Oh,” I said, desperate to let this line of questioning drop. This talk of ‘bad actors’ was a very clear reference to the Agarthans, and I wanted to steer the topic of conversation away from that as much as I could.

“I am glad you understand. Now, have you been enjoying your life at the monastery?”

“I feel like I have purpose here,” I confirmed. “There’s always something to be doing, someone who I can help out. It’s busy– I guess last year was a lull in the typical business of the year. I heard about the incident where one of the students killed some of the Knights to protect some of his friends. I like it this way, though… when there’s always work to be done and people to meet.”

A warm smile crossed her lips. It seemed genuine. “You are not a follower of the Church itself, correct?”

“I admit that I don’t follow the religions of Fodra.” Shamir and Cyril were openly atheistic, so I felt it wasn’t too revealing that I wasn’t a Seirosite. Was that the terminology? I didn’t care. “Back home, we worshiped three goddesses– Din, the goddess of power; Nayru, the goddess of wisdom; and Farore, the goddess of courage. It was said that in the beginning, they made the world, the laws of the world, and the life of the world that followed the laws. Respectively. And, um, there were their children the Four Giants, protectors of the north, east, south, and west… I used to be devout, but nowadays I think if they existed in Fodra, uh, they would have helped me find my way home on the day of the blizzard. And our beliefs say nothing about people living outside of our commune.” That last bit, at least, was right. But how could I not believe, when I had once borne a third of the Triforce on the back of my hand? Summoned the Giants themselves to halt the falling moon?

“I understand.” A motherly aura filled the room, and I was immediately somehow even more on edge than before. “There is… something else. I understand you assisted Shamir and Catherine with their business in Remire Village.”

I did my best to hide my discomfort. Catherine had tattled on me, hadn’t she? “That’s correct. It’s truly terrible, what’s happening there.”

“I was informed of something from your home that you referred to as ‘Misery’.” I could feel bile building at the back of my throat. My upstairs neighbor was silent. “If it could potentially be linked to what is happening in Remire, it is imperative that you share all you know with the Church and the Knights.”

“I would think that talking to Professor Manuela would be more helpful.”

“I will be happy to pass any information you have along to her after we are done here,” she refused. Katáktisi admonished me, asserting that if there were any signs of Crestwraiths appearing once more in Fodra, of course the Nabateans would want to know first and foremost. I politely told it to shove it. Obviously I couldn’t tell her the whole truth. That wasn’t happening. But I could bend what I knew, and what she knew, to weave a lie that was more true to Lady Seiros than the truth could ever be.

“Well, it was a silly thought to begin with,” I prefaced. “I find it difficult to believe in those gods when all of Fodra existed outside of our tiny bubble, but it’s affected me enough that I can’t really accept the Church of Seiros either. Although if you think this is somehow tied to Remire, I’ll be happy to tell you all that I know.

“Misery was… ah… the destroyer god that would burn down the world at the end of every age. It is the duty of the Four Giants, who I mentioned earlier, to seek it out and stop its path of desolation before it could find a mortal to wear it, yeah. It took the form of a mask, whispering with insidious demands and honeyed venom, trying to seduce someone into putting it on. It needs the power of humans to awaken its destructive might. But without a living host, it was impotent and useless. In order to flee from the Giants, it uses corpses as vehicles, pulling on their limbs like a puppeteer. That is why it is customary for us to make our own masks that we may wear when we die, so that Misery cannot use us against our friends and family.”

The archbishop appeared to be deep in thought. “That is quite interesting,” she said warmly. “I have had little experience with cultures beyond Fódlan’s borders. Unfortunately, many of her people are wary of outsiders.” 

“You’re the Archbishop,” I countered. “Your policy could change that.”

“If only it could be so easy. Change is coming. Slowly. And the work being done here at the Officer’s Academy is doing just that.” Perhaps it was, but ‘slow’ for an immortal being like a Nabatean was practically motionless in terms of a human lifetime. Rhea clasped her hands in her lap. “Many times, fables and myths have at least a kernel of truth at their center. This information is known only to a few, but… during the War of Heroes, there was a creature called Misery that fought alongside Nemesis. Did your people ever mention other destroyer gods?”

I pretended to think for a moment. “No. It was only ever Misery.”

You have played your cards well, Katáktisi praised. You have assuaged her worries without revealing too much… so long as you do not double-cross your lie.

You know all of this is going right in my notebook so I know not to contradict myself.

Rhea nodded, her worries seemingly assuaged. “Thank you for being patient with me. I’m sure you have plenty of other appointments to attend, so I will not keep you any longer. However, I would like you to know that I truly enjoyed this simple moment, and should you ever need anything of me, you must only ask.”

“I will. Thank you.” I bowed demurely and stepped out of the room, the scent of pine following me out the door. That was the biggest lie I had told through that entire conversation.

~~~

Gronder Field. Claude, the scheming tactician, watched with a morose expression. Edelgard, the horned empress, walked along a path of blood. Dimitri, the hulking monster, warred with a manic joy in his eyes. Three armies. Three hopes. Two heavenly bodies overhead.

One victor.

In a horrid, metallic moment, everyone threw themselves at each other, a biting firefight full of the buckling of armor, the screaming of the fallen, and the gnashing of teeth. No matter how loudly I screamed for them to stop, that their common enemy still drew rotten breath, nobody listened. Nobody bothered to pay attention to the child in their midst. I donned Katáktisi, hoping that the additional height would get them to just listen to me, but as I came to I was standing triumphant atop a pile of corpses that was the only landmark in an ocean of blood. Every wrecked body bore the telltale marks of a Crestwraith’s domination.

The Fierce Deity had spilled the blood of a continent today.

I awoke in a cold sweat, punctuated by the frigid winter air filtering through the window of my room. I hadn’t had a dream like that in years. It had almost felt like the prophetic visions I had had as a child– child being a relative term. Dreams of Ganondorf and his power, dreams that solidified my terror upon meeting the real deal. It was a dream I dreaded dreaming every night. It was probably the only reason I didn’t spend my entire life asleep. Even Mido’s bullying wasn’t as bad as those nightmares. I just felt… powerless. Like all I could do was roll over and accept defeat.

I tuned out Katáktisi’s complaints about my ability or inability to claim victory. I didn’t want to deal with its critiques right now. I couldn’t.

I rolled over and tried to accept sleep once again.

~~~

I was flying.

The wind whipped by my skin as the clouds neared, the great howl consuming my ears. Even Katáktisi was cowed by the sound, or perhaps it was simply drowned out by the splendor of my sojourn through the skies. I felt… liberated.

Then I realized I wasn’t flying at all. I was falling. Falling very, very fast.

I started to panic, whirling to face upwards to figure out exactly where I was falling from. The only face to greet me was the manic confused expression of the great moon, retreating further into the sky– well, actually, it was more that I was retreating further towards the ground. Still, its eyes bored into me, as it had for so long before Majora was destroyed.

Funny– I had killed Misery, but my dreams still wallowed in it.

A noise cut through the howling plummet. A noise I had heard before. A noise I had played before. Goron drums. Four low, then the fifth. Four low thuds, then a high fifth. I fell through a cloud, and when I came out, I realized I was falling over Termina. From all the way up here, I could clearly see Snowpeak, Ikana, Woodfall, and even the Gerudo Pirate Fortress far to the west.

The wind became a low drone– really, a deep bass chant. Simple chords, perhaps to accompany the melody that was about to begin?

I needed to land somewhere high up, and preferably soft. If I hit the water, I was sure to die. Even if this was a dream– I was fairly certain this was a dream, but I wasn’t entirely sure– I couldn’t afford to risk it. I thought about putting on the Deku Mask, but I couldn’t actually pull out my flowery parasail without having first launched myself out of a Deku Flower, so that was a bust.

There was only one real option.

I spread my limbs and angled myself towards the Stone Tower. It was by far the highest structure in Termina, but more importantly, its main gimmick was its ability to make the sun be borne until the moon, and the moon be borne unto the earth. I think that was how it was phrased, I might have been slightly off in my recollection. I didn’t exactly have time to whip out my notes and double check.

The point was that it reversed the direction of gravity. It was the best shot I had. I quickly grabbed my bow and stayed my course. The string vibrated in the wind, adding a melody to the groan and the drums. Two measures of A’s and E’s, fluctuating between ending on a high F or low D. It began to repeat.

Almost there…

The great diamond began to resolve, a dot of red on the ground slowly– no, swiftly– growing in size. I let an arrow of light fly, streaming towards the ground directly at its target. It whistled in the wind as it traveled. A, C, B… G A C B-A-B-C, F, C, A, C, B… G A C B-A-B-C, A…

The arrow struck true, and there was a sound that struck me of a distorted reality. My momentum slowed, slowed, stopped. Just enough for me to escape the pull of the moon by–

By waking up, drenched in sweat.

I took a moment to allow my heart to stop hammering. It was just a dream. It was just a dream… just a dream. I knew that. But why did I allow myself to–

Dark thoughts dance behind your eyes, Katáktisi noted. It is only natural to fear these things even when they are dead and buried. It is not something that can simply be overcome through grit alone.

I thought you hated signs of weakness, I snapped, although it was all bark and no bite.

I do. The Crestwraith sighed. It was inevitable that you would be affected so by the machinations of Μιζέρια. That was its way. The fact that you are still standing is testament to your true strength.

I was only able to kill it–

Because of my power? I have thought much on the matter, and I believe you very well may have been able to destroy that Crestwraith without my patronage. But you still chose to use me, despite any misgivings you may have had. I have wondered for a long time, champion, as to why. But I see what happened now. The Crestwraith paused, seemingly forcing itself through the words. It is because you were… afraid.

My breath caught in my throat. I was afraid of putting it on, and because of that fear, I used it? What kind of sense did that make?

It is not that sort of fear. You were afraid… of what would happen to the world that had wronged you. Perhaps you would call it courage– that your fear of the alternative superseded your fear of me. Either way, it was a beautiful thing. Either way, we were victorious.

I breathed out. “It doesn’t feel like I’ve won at all, if my dreams take my back every night. And that I always wake up in the same cold sweat… I shouldn’t be affected by this. Not if I was truly strong. I feel like the wheel is turning, but the hamster is dead.” Why was I talking out loud?

Fool child, Katáktisi admonished. I am privy to all that you are, and I have seen what you were upon your final victory. You were–