Chapter Text
Hylia despises blood.
Or rather, Link knew that she despised it when it shed. When it rained from the skies, when it bled from the heroes she had chosen, when it poured out of innocent victims, affected by a world that he knew she should protect, yet wouldn’t.
It fell on him, the boy with the sword, a gift from the Goddess (perhaps that was her way of protecting them, if somehow she thought a boy with a sword was enough to stop the greatest evil) and on Zelda, the girl he had to protect, until the end.
He had to prevent bloodshed, from his friends, from Zelda, even if it meant spilling his own. If his own blood poured in for the purpose of protection, maybe Hylia would be pleased with the intention. Maybe, if his blood poured out until the end, Hylia would look at his deformed face, whether it had a smile as he passed, or a thin determined line, and would grant him peace wherever death brought him.
Most importantly, he had to protect all he could from the Calamity. He had to keep Zelda safe, to let the light that the goddess was supposed to grant her flow from her in soft waves. He had to annihilate the calamity, strike it and let its malice coated blood spill. That was the only blood Hylia wanted to see spill, it was the only blood he knew she would want to see rain from the skies, until the world was left with clear water and warm hearts..
It was his job to prevent that. And if it came, it was his job to protect, to kill, and to contain evil.
He failed these promises the day they came back from the Spring of Wisdom, watching Zelda’s frown deepen the longer they walked. It wasn’t her fault, but he didn’t know how to say that. If it wasn’t her fault, was it Hylia’s? Was it her fault for not granting Zelda the light she needed to stop the Calamity from coming?
Zelda prayed. He knew that. She prayed every night, wishing, hoping, that Hylia would see her and give her what she needed. That the power her mother expressed would seep into her, igniting the flame she so desperately sought after.
She sat in the freezing water of the spring, in only her garbs, hands clasped together, looking at a statue that would not grant her mercy.
He was not supposed to look over his shoulder, to grant her the privacy she needed. He would listen, but he was not supposed to act. Yet, he turned around anyway, hearing her cries, as she asked what was wrong with her.
Nothing was. She was trying so hard, and the world was failing her still. He had seen her devotion, he had seen her assist in so many other avenues just to help while trying to focus on finding the light she was supposed to be granted. Hylia was supposed to answer. The King blamed Zelda for her not answering.
He often didn’t agree with the King. Yet, a soldier is respectful, a soldier only acts when he is told to. He wanted to act, he wanted to yell in his face until he was blue and ask him why he was so disappointed in someone trying so hard just to be loved.
He blamed Zelda for not working hard enough, yet she always did. He blamed Zelda for not praying enough, yet she always did, in springs, in water, freezing her to her core, and on her own, nothing but her and the night sky and a whisper of hope. He blamed Zelda for not being respectful enough, yet he saw the callouses on her lips from biting them when she dared to oppose her father’s will.
He hated how much he blamed her. The King didn’t know how late she’d stay up, researching relentlessly about Sheikah tech and about how she could possibly train to access her power. She’d help the Champions with the Divine Beasts, teaching them new tricks she discovered and asking questions about what they thought of their respective Beasts. She’d watch him train with the Master Sword, always cleaning it gently to ensure it was in pristine shape.
He didn’t know how much she was putting in. How much pressure she was putting on herself. It made him angry, angry to see her trying so hard and no one ever noticing the effort she was putting in.
When they climbed up the mountain, hearts full from a small celebration they shared that morning, just the two of them (the Champions were busy attending to their duties, but they sent their regards), Zelda stood in the water, closest to the Goddess, he had hoped. Hoped for her, hoped that finally, there would be no more disappointment for the King, no more disappointment in her chest, that there would be light warm in her hands that would encase the Calamity whole. Yet, as she sat there, slowly freezing away, no feeling tethering her to her power, no light emerging from her hands, she was silent the whole time. He knew what she was thinking.
She was blaming herself, over and over again, and pleading, as she looked up to the skies, that someone would grant her this power, at any moment, before they were out of time, and the world ended.
He only squeezed her hand for a moment, knowing he would get sworn out for daring to show the princess some love, as he watched her belittle herself more and more as the days went on. He would look at her, and watch as her face contorted, tears threatening to spill, before it dissipated into a look of utter disappointment.
She was blaming herself, like Hylia taught her to, like her father taught her to, like the world taught her to.
He doesn’t blame her. Silently, to himself, he blames Hylia, but does not express it, for fear that she will not despise seeing his blood get shed, ripping it out of him so elegantly that maybe he wouldn’t feel like he is dying.
When they met the Champions at the east entrance of the Lanayru Gate, he could feel their eyes watching both him and Zelda, waiting for a response. He knew not to give one, he knew how much he could disappoint people if he did.
He didn’t want Zelda to have to break the news, but as the silence stretched on, he knew that the Champions already had their answer.
“Well? Don’t keep us in suspense.” Daruk leaned in, tilting his head slightly as he stared at Zelda, her head focused down, fists clenched. “How’d everything go up there on the mountain?”
Not well. She doesn’t want to disappoint you.
She paused there, in the cobble, grabbing a stray strand of frazzled blonde hair and fiddling with it. He was half tempted to put his hand on her shoulder, to utter a word, to say something. Nothing he could do would make this better, so he stayed silent, his eyes locked onto her.
Zelda said nothing, only shaking her head. Everyone’s shoulders dropped, their hopeful glances immediately falling into saddened ones. He understood it, but he stared at them desperately, begging for them to hide their disappointment. She blamed herself for what her father’s reaction would be, for what Hylia’s reaction was, and now for their reaction. Their disappointment was heavy in her chest, bleeding into her own.
It isn’t her fault.
Revali steps forward, softly and kindly, very unlike his usual attitude. “So you didn’t feel anything? No power at all?” He wished she did. Wished that she felt even the slight steady stream of power, something to keep her hopeful, something to keep her going.
Her voice was so quiet as she cupped her hands together, squeezing them tightly. “I’m sorry, no.” It was barely a whisper. She glanced up at Revali for a moment, before returning her gaze to the ground.
Without hesitation, Urbosa spoke up. “Then let’s move on.” It was exactly what Zelda needed to hear right now. There were more steps to take and it wasn’t over yet. If she didn’t feel it now, she had to soon.
Please, Hylia. She can’t take it much longer. Grant her the power she needs so she doesn’t crumble. She needs you. Answer her prayers.
“You’ve done all you could,” Urbosa carried on, her hand resting on her hip while she looked at Zelda. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t be of any help. After all, it’s not like your last shot was up there on Lanayru. Anything could finally spark the power to seal Ganon away. We just have to keep looking for that…thing.”
He knew what Zelda was thinking. What if nothing did? What if there wasn’t anything that would create the connection?
Something would. He knew something would. Even if she didn’t believe that, something would come up, and she would feel the light pouring beneath her skin, and Ganon would be finished. She would look at the world’s end in the sky, at the blood pouring down, and see Hylia’s distasteful frown, and light would pour instead of crimson. Hylia would smile, the world would smile with her, and everything would be well and truly alright.
“That’s kind of you. Thank you.” Her breath was soft, yet shallow and ragged, the words coming out with a sigh. She didn’t believe it. She didn’t believe in herself.
I believe in you.
Mipha stepped forward, her eyes meeting Zelda’s. “If I may…” Inching closer, she smiled up at her for a brief moment. “I thought you — well, I’m not sure how to put this into words. I’m actually quite embarrassed to say it.”
She glanced at Link, and then back at Zelda, grabbing her hand gently. “But I was thinking about what I do when I’m healing. You know, what usually goes through my mind,” Healing and light go hand in hand. What Mipha thinks about, when she heals wound after wound from him, from her fellow Zorans, from an injured animal, to everything in between, would go in hand with Zelda’s light. He had no doubt about it.
“It usually helps when I think — when I think about—”
Thoughtful words didn’t have room when the world was ending. A loud bellow, with the earth rocking beneath them, was all Link needed to hear to know that this was it. He was here. The thing that had spent so long trying to prepare for, doing everything they could, was coming.
He had to face a monster, a monster prophesied to destroy the very world they knew.
They had no way to seal it right now, no way to lock it away forever.
They would figure it out.
He struggled to stay firm on his feet, catching Zelda as she nearly tumbled. The hairs on her arm were raised, goosebumps sharp on her skin. She didn’t even notice, only staring wide eyed at the sky.
Revali made his way up to the sky, though there was no doubt about it that he was here. He hovered for a moment, glancing into the distance beyond as his expression turned from panic to sheer terror. That wasn’t good. Revali didn’t get scared.
A growl, howling through the skies, with bright red lighting confirmed it. There was no way to deny what was happening. Panic seized in Link’s chest. All his training had led up to this. He had to shed Ganon’s blood, he had to let it rain out of the sky, and prevent the Champions (his friends ) and Zelda (so much more) from shedding their own. If blood forms from caved in wounds, from malice slicked skin, will Hylia be pleased even if he fails?
No, he can’t afford to think like that. They won’t fail. They can’t fail. If they fail, it means—
“It’s here.” Urbosa’s voice showed no wavering, though it didn’t matter. They were all afraid. There was no need to hide it.
“This is it then.” Daruk’s firm voice rang out.
“Are you sure?” Mipha hesitantly asked. If only there was a way to deny what they saw in front of them. If only this wasn’t real, if only it was just a dream-
“Positive.” Revali said firmly. This was real.
Reality is a knife in your skin. When it sheds your blood, it does so with unwavering affliction. Hylia has to set that knife in your skin, but she never stabs it all the way. Ganon has taken your heart out and stabbed it into the wall, clean and unforgiving.
“It’s awake, Ganon.” As Zelda’s words squeezed their way out of her throat, the sky began to fill with malice, the lightning strikes heavier and louder whilst they approached.
It was silent, except for Zelda’s panicked gasps. It’ll be okay. You will get your power. We will be fine. Everyone will be safe. (he knew in his mind that it was already tormenting Hyrule Castle, that casualties were already happening. Blood was already shedding). I’m sorry, Hylia. We’re going to stop this.
“Let’s stop wasting time!” Everyone turned to Daruk, his booming voice louder than the lightning around them, grounding everyone to the situation. “We’re going to need everything we got to take that thing down! Now champions, to your divine beasts! Show that swirling swine who’s boss! Link will need to meet Ganon head on when we attack. This needs to be a unified assault.”
They have his back. He has theirs. He’ll protect them. He’ll protect Zelda. He’ll kill Ganon.
“Little guy! You get to Hyrule Castle. You can count on us for support. But it’s up to you to pound Ganon into oblivion.” Up to him. Up to him, the soldier, the knight, the protector of the Princess of Hyrule, the boy with a sword.
He wasn’t a boy anymore. He wasn’t meant to be foolish or reckless or uncertain. Dodge, slice, kill (if necessary, if that’s whose blood needed to be shed), protect, contain evil . That’s what he learnt. That’s the lessons he has to follow through with, the lessons of a champion, not a child.
The champion with the sword to seal the darkness. That is all he could be now.
Urbosa laid her hands gently on Zelda’s shoulders. “Come, we should go. We need to get you someplace safe.” Please, she needs to be okay. Take her somewhere safe, somewhere out of harm's way. The least Hylia could do is not kill the one meant to harness her power, the power she was supposed to grant her. Don’t let her die, don’t let her die.
“No! I am not a child anymore! I may not be of much use on the battlefield, but there must…there must be something I can do to help!” Stubbornly, she planted her feet in the ground, and Link frowned. He didn’t want her coming with him, even though her hand in his was enough to calm his panicked breaths, to make him have the faith in himself to continue with his destiny.
“You’ll help by staying alive, little bird.” Urbosa told her, a frown tight on her lips. She looked at Link, her gaze firm. He knew what she was saying. We can’t keep her safe anymore, only you can.
“Stay safe. We’ll see each other on the other side.” With a firm nod and a quick kiss to the crown of her head, Urbosa ran off, the other Champions following suit. Link and Zelda were alone now, in the end of the world.
He looked over at her, and gently took her hand. As blue met green, his eyes said it all.
We have to go. I’ll keep you safe.
---
Blood is raining in Hyrule. It pours from the sky, ugly and draining, staining the grassy ground beneath them. There’s screams from the castle, piercing the air, and bright blue light flashes erupt from the distance. Guardians, the machines supposed to help them, have lost their orange hue, instead lighting up with a horrid red.
Crimson stains their feet, the harsh clacking of metal, and the whirring of their heads searching for any target. Link pulls her behind a rock, staring outwards at the Guardians. Ganon corrupted them, it’s a horrible realization, that his malice can pour into Sheikah tech, and he ponders the Divine Beasts, before steeling his gaze ahead. They’ll be fine.
“We need to get to the castle.” Zelda mumbles to him. There has to be a path somewhere, somewhere to get around them and avoid getting shot with their vibrant, burning hot lasers. He has to keep her safe.
There’s a scuttle behind them, and red light pierces their skin. He turns, and launches the Master Sword directly into the eye of the Guardian, right before it can shoot. It whirs and flashes, crumbling to the ground before the light in its body fades. The Master Sword glows in triumph, and he squeezes Zelda’s hand.
“Thank you.” She sighs with relief, leaning her head on his shoulder for a brief respite. He settles his head against hers, taking in a deep breath. He watches as she ponders the scenery around them, until her mouth settles in a firm, determined line, and she pulls him forward. He gasps in surprise, but quickly calms down. Zelda, wherever you’re leading, I trust you.
She leads him over to a series of trees, cloaking them in the shadows they granted. Not far away were the Guardians, still swarming the area, looking for their next victim.
“That was close.” She whispers. In the cusp of the trees, they could see it. The Hyrule Castle town square. Where there used to be market stands were nothing but ruins and flames, smoke rising from the embers of a fallen kingdom. As they looked further on, they could see the entrance to the Castle, the gate, open and wide.
“If people start running out, the Guardians will shoot them on the spot. We need to go now. To protect them and ourselves.” He nods, the Master Sword continuously glowing, letting him know that she’s here to protect them. He clutches it tightly in his hand, and leads the way, making a desperate break to the town square, Zelda in tow.
There’s multiple red lights on him and her, and he has no doubts about their accuracy. If they shoot, it’ll be a near miss, or a clear hit, and neither are appealing options. They just need to keep running. Their metal rushes towards them, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Ducking behind the broken wall of the outline of the square, a laser blasts right past them, destroying an already dismantled market stand as it combusts into flame. The Guardian approaches, closely, its head rotating in an attempt to hunt them down. It gets closer and closer, until it is right beside them. They’re barely covered by the height of the wall, and as Zelda holds her breath, he finds himself doing the same. Looking right up at it, he waits.
We can’t die now, we can’t die now —
Finally, it wanders away, and their air escapes them in unison. He gestures for her to wait, before glancing at the open gate. Grabbing her hand, and giving it a soft squeeze, he peers over the wall. The Guardians aren’t approaching this area, and he knows they have enough distance between them to make a run for the gate.
Once again, they sprint, oxygen trapped in their lungs as they make their way through the walkway, cobble harsh against their feet. They stumble into the entrance of Hyrule Castle and slowly wander through. Malice taints the sky, flooding the air and Link struggles not to choke on it. They take careful steps, Zelda hastily looking around to see if she can spot her father.
They hear a laser far off in the distance, and a Royal Claymore along with some stone rubble, falls from the sky, dug harshly into the ground. He recognizes the engravings on the sword all too well. They’re the engravings on the King’s sword.
He should run, he should protect Zelda’s father, should keep him safe, should loyally serve his King because he is a knight to not only the princess but the King and his kingdom, but he stands slack, watching as a Guardian begins to run down the cobble walkway straight towards them.
The lasers lock on them once again and his breath catches in his throat. He tugs her along, past the gate, past the walls of the castle, and through the grass. “We have to go back to my father!” Zelda shouts, tugging on his wrist in an attempt to get out of his clutches.
Link contemplates, but when he turns over his shoulder, and sees four more Guardians join the chase, he shakes her head. She glances over his shoulder and realization dawns on her. They’ll die if they go back, simple as that. It stings, terror and pain churning in his stomach. A knight protects his King, a knight protects his King yet he’s leaving him to die, he’s leaving the princess that he’s hand in hand with without a father. It’s to save her, it’s to save her, yet it will break her.
Tears well up in her eyes, but she allows him to drag her along. Four lasers narrowly avoid them, and when a fifth directly comes for them, Link tackles Zelda to the floor, mud caking their clothes. The laser breezes above their head, hitting a tree nearby, smoking it through and lighting it aflame. He swiftly helps her up, and they continue to run, past the Sacred Grounds (a reminder of his duty, of where he was appointed not long ago, with all eyes on him, all questioning his purpose there, if he could actually follow through with the prophecy, if he was enough and he’s not sure if he is) and just like everyone else, the Guardians keep their eyes on them, ready to strike.
They swerve in different directions as they run, avoiding laser after laser. One scrapes right past Link’s head, singing a few hairs clean off of his head. Ignoring the smell of smoke in his nose, he points to where the Bottomless Swamp is, noting the small forest that they could hide in.
Zelda nods, allowing Link to guide her. From the forest, they could make their way to Fort Hateno and devise strategies with the Sheikah and Hylian soldiers. With their help, the way to the castle would be much easier, and as long as the Divine Beasts were okay, they could still stop Ganon.
They just had to keep running to the forest.
Crimson and green pass by, the only noises he’s able to discern is the pouring rain and the loud blasts of lasers too close for comfort.
Please, Hylia. Let us live past this, and find a way to stop the world from ending.
---
They’re in the forest, and he’s covered in dirt. Slicked onto his skin, disgusting and putrid, pale tones barely visible beneath the crust of blood that digs under the muck. His hand is in hers, so tight that he’s afraid if he lets go he’ll lose her entirely. They’re running, and his feet hurt, and it’s still raining, thick and metallic.
They saw them. The Divine Beasts. Their stark blue highlights now outlined in hideous crimson, blinking in the sky, singing a soft song that dissolved into a harsh scream before nothing remained.
Ruta, Rudania and Naboris all rang out first in the field, their SOS signals sharp through the sky. Please, come save me. They begged. Please.
Medoh rang out much later, begging all the same. Like the others, their screams faded into the destruction of the world, until no noise remained except the harsh thunder of the storm. When their signals stopped, he knew that was it.
Their blood had shed, just like the Calamity had wanted it to, just like Hylia had told him to not let it happen. He had failed to protect the Champions. His friends were gone. It was only him and Zelda now, hand in hand through the forest. His blood had already shed from sharp wounds he got falling into a tree while trying to escape the Guardians, yet he knew Hylia was shaking her head.
She must’ve been doubting why she was his chosen hero. Hylia made a mistake and she knew it. Was she shifting the natural course so that his blood would pour, or did she want him alive, to keep Zelda safe? If he failed her, Hylia would rip him apart, limb from limb, because there’s no way a boy with a sword can save the world.
He was only able to do it with the help of his friends and her. Without them, he’d be nothing. The Master Sword would lay dormant, unsatisfied at his failures, and would let him die without an ounce of protection. Was Hylia pleased with his intention, his desperation to get to the castle, to protect Zelda, even as his blood poured? Did, secretly, she smile at his wounds, content that he was at least doing something right, doing his sworn duty like he was told?
Or was that disappointing too? Was his protection not enough?
Who am I kidding? It wasn’t enough. They’re all gone. Revali, Daruk, Urbosa, Mipha…I’m sorry.
He’d never hear Revali’s snarky comments, doubting his abilities and dismissing his talents (he didn’t really have any, he was just able to swing a sword well enough to count for something, to count as an appointed knight). Revali was right. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t deserve the glory from a world he hadn't really saved. Hylia chose wrong.
He’d never get the chance to try all the Goron foods (they were mostly rocks, and they hurt his teeth, but it didn’t matter because it was a chance to do something with, when the world was saved and things could be normal, a brother, like Daruk had called him) with Daruk. He had so much faith in him, and yet he failed anyways.
He’d never have Urbosa’s guidance or advice on how to care for Zelda (Urbosa was like Zelda’s second mother, always helping her through any path, and always helping Link on how to protect her. They both shared that need, the need to keep her safe, and as scared, uncertain and quiet as Link could be, she knew he could protect her little bird). All he had to do now was try and keep her safe (he didn’t want to think about what would happen if he failed that too).
He’d never go on outings again with Mipha, wandering Zora’s Domain and chatting amongst themselves (he’d never hear her laugh again, never have a wound healed again, the wounds that coated his skin now would make horrid scars if he survived. She wouldn’t be there to be a friend, to be someone he could open up to). He had to follow her advice, and pretend that the path he was wandering wasn’t a path of probable death, but a way to protect the only one he had left.
The Rito would be without their powerful warrior. The Goron would be without a proud member of their community. The Gerudo would be without their chief, their leader. The Zora would be without their princess (and Sidon without a sister).
Their blood trickled down their respective Divine Beasts, and all of them howled, mourning their fallen champions, mourning the ones to guide them, until malice took over their carved skin.
It was just him and Zelda, and the crimson flooding the world. Hylia despised it, and perhaps the occasional drop of water from real rain was her tears, crying that the world she had made was in ruin and spitting at the blood that tainted the entirety of it.
There was still a chance to save it. She chose wrong again and again but he wasn’t going to give up trying, even if he was drained of every last drop of crimson in his body, even if he didn't make it out. As long as she does, as long as the world is fixed, as long as there’s a world she can live in.
Her hand lets go of his, and he turns around immediately, Master Sword tight in his other hand, before it falls too. She’s on the ground, more dirt coating her white ceremonial dress. Tears are tight in her eyes as she clutches the ground below her, shaking her head. He leans down to her, feeling her cold breath against his face.
Urgently, he stares at her. Zelda, it’s not safe here. Please, I can’t lose you too.
“How…” She’s breathless, her arms shaking against the ground as she desperately tries to get oxygen into her lungs. “How did it come to this?”
He wishes he had an answer. He wished he could say something, anything , to make her feel better, to give some sort of reason for why Ganon came so unexpectedly, why things hadn’t worked out in her favour. But he had nothing. No reason at all. No way to use his ragged voice to help her.
“The Divine Beasts…” They shine red above the sky, the treeline covering any possible look at them, trying to catch their ruined frame. “The Guardians…” Their bright blue lasers alarming against their skin, avoiding beam after beam to keep each other safe. The fire in Hyrule Castle burns brightly, the images of burnt corpses and a crumbling kingdom engraved in his mind forever. “They’ve all turned against us. It was…” Her words are stuck in her throat as if she’s choking on them. “Calamity Ganon. It turned them all against us!”
They had nothing left. No Guardians to protect them (a weapon is a weapon, and Ganon knew that, he turned them into killing machines for a different side), No Divine Beasts to protect them (divine creatures only stay divine while Hylia has a hold on them, but Hylia has no hold on Ganon, as much as he wishes she did). The King and his men were likely gone, leaving few to help. The Sheikah…he wasn’t sure.
“And everyone — Mipha, Urbosa, Revali, Daruk—” Each of their names are said in quick succession, and each feels like a stab to the gut. “They’re all trapped inside those things.” With no way out, with a sword, spear, or Hylia knows what else dug inside of them. If they weren’t already dead, he knew they would be soon. And there was no way to save them.
Her green eyes look up at him, pleading, desperation and utter despair shaking deep inside them. Tears begin to well up even further. “It’s all my fault!” She screams, placing her head into her muddied hands.
“Our only hope for defeating Ganon is lost because I couldn’t harness this cursed power!” Hylia, why couldn’t you have graced her with this power? What else did she need to do? Who else needs to die before you’ll finally give her what she needs? “Everything — Everything I’ve done up until now…it was all for nothing.”
He wants to tell her it wasn’t, that she did all she could, that she had poured her heart and soul into every ounce of research, of trying to access her power, of helping everyone else, of helping him.
“So I really am just a failure!” You aren’t. You are not a failure, Zelda. “All my friends…the entire kingdom…my father, most of all…I tried and I failed them all.”
“I left them…all to die.” She’s so small and quiet, the words coming out as nothing more than a ragged, heartbroken breath. Her eyes scrunch up, and she closes them, falling into his arms, tears pouring rapidly down her cheeks.
Her sobs echo throughout the forest, harsh and choking. He holds her close, his chin buried in her hair. The rain and blood splatter gently against her hair and he places a hand on the crown of her head to cradle her away from the blood.
She clings to his dirty Champion’s Tunic, and he clings to her, softly stroking her hair in a desperate need to give her some comfort.
Tears decorate his vision too, blurry and messy, and quiet sobs fill his lungs, silent and unwavering. They’re all gone, and they couldn’t save them. There was no way to save them. The world was falling apart around them and they were here, in the depths of it all.
It wasn’t her fault. He hates that she blames herself. They had to go, they had to be safe, it’s what the world needs, and selfishly, he thinks it’s what he needed, to see her safe.
He doesn’t know how long they sit there, and he knows they need to keep moving. They need to head to Fort Hateno, there should be some of the Sjekiah there and hopefully some of the king’s men that can help them out. The Divine Beasts will be no longer of use, but if there’s some way to get to Hyrule Castle or some way to save them, to weaken Ganon so they’ll work again, he can try. He has to try (or else what was he created for?)
“It’s not your fault.” His voice is raspy from lack of use, quiet but certain, and she looks up at him. She’s about to protest before biting down on her lip instead. He’s certain she’s blaming herself, but she doesn’t snipe back at him, which hopefully means that she still has some faith in herself.
“We should go. Maybe there’s still — still something we can do!” He stands up, grabbing the Master Sword and holding out his other hand. Helping her up, she dusts herself off with her spare hand.
He smiles at her, and despite it all, she musters a small smile back, squeezing his hand tightly.
She’s hope, and light, and ignites something in his heart. They share a nod, and they begin to run through the foggy forest, praying they aren’t too late to help in Fort Hateno.
Maybe there’s still something they can do.
---
Fort Hateno was in the distance, but they didn’t make it that far. By the time they got to Blatchery Plain, they saw the onslaught. Fire, everywhere, so much of it that none was extinguished by the rain. Guardians, so many Guardians, swarming everywhere, to the point that he could barely see the world around him. It was only lit up in a boiling red hue.
They’re so close. They just have to get through this.
The two of them move around the treeline, attempting to run past them, when a Guardian darts towards them, locking its laser directly onto Zelda. Running forward, sword in hand, he jumps off of the surface of the Guardian, stabbing it just above the eye, before cleaving downward to slice it in half. It falls to the ground, defeated. The Master Sword hums softly in his grasp.
Another one emerges through the fire, shooting a laser directly at Link. He deflected it with his sword, watching the laser go blazing off towards the other Guardians. Finding his opening, he slides to the ground, going for its legs.
“Without its legs, it would be stuck in place, only able to use its head to attack. Yet, it could still be of use to us even without movement, but I believe that movement is certainly crucial with these machines.” A lesson Zelda had told him just a few months prior stays firm in his mind as his blade cuts through the legs of the Guardian, keeping it in place. With a few quick slashes, its eye went empty, breaking down directly in front of him. It’s a small victory, as his vision wanders through the countless more in the path ahead.
There’s so many. Hylia, send me strength.
One after the other, Link cuts through them, narrowly avoiding shots and deflecting a few, all the while, pulling Zelda away from danger. Sweat creases his brow, limbs heavy from exertion, yet he tears through them like the fire surrounding them. Each laser deflected and avoided meant new grass lighting up in flames. Each slice meant more exhaustion, more pain.
He just has to keep going.
“Stay safe.” He mutters to her, placing her into the shadow of the tree, checking to make sure there is enough protection. When satisfied, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and allows himself a soft smile.
“But Link, what about you—”
He doesn’t answer her question before he sprints away, the rush of grass brushing against his boots. Some of the Guardians pass him by, making their way further up to the Fort, while others went back towards the Peaks, trying to make their way to Hylia knows where else.
Trying to figure out which Guardian to kill is hard when there’s three lasers on you at all times. Sprinting swiftly towards the one, he gets behind the other Guardian, hearing the laser spear directly into the Guardian he’s hiding behind, killing it instantly.
He just has to kill the other one, and then all the ones after that and—
Fire. Fire ignites in his body, burning and horrid. The breeze flies through his hair, and he winces, a sickening crunch resounding in his brain. His back is dug into something, and blurrily, his hands meet the fallen Guardian he’s slammed to, trying to grasp on something to pry himself up. Blood, there is blood in the sky and in his skull. Did Hylia despise this, despise him , as it poured out of his head, or was she happy that there was protection deep within that crimson?
It hurt. Each movement follows with a wince and aching muscle more evidently showing itself. There’s a horrible realization that he is exhausted, wanting nothing more than the ground to swallow him whole. The thought is selfish and unnecessary, he’s killed Lynels and armies of Bokoblins without breaking a sweat, yet a few Guardians take him down? He has to keep going. He has to get Zelda to Fort Hateno, to wherever safety leads, and then keep the world safe, no matter how exhausted he is.
Blinking slowly, his head pulsates, the world moving in circles. Hot, it was so hot and sweaty (or was it blood? A quick glance at his stomach, and yes , a small piece of the Guardian’s screw is dug into his flesh, messy with the water and crimson pouring from the sky). Shakily, he pulls himself up with his sword and the mantle of the Guardian, gasping for air.
“Link!” Her voice is slight clarity in the storm. She’s there, hidden behind the tree, and if he…if he failed, she would die.
She would die.
She can’t die.
The Guardian approaches once again, looming over him. He is small, so small compared to what should’ve been an ally, a friend that would shoot lasers into all of Ganon’s horrible creatures he conjured. Instead, it was the very thing trying to kill him.
With a huff, he holds up the sword, and his feet fall forward.
It strikes right into the Guardian’s chest, and after swiftly putting the sword back out and sinking it back in again over and over, the Guardian whirs to a stop.
The next few are easy. They’re caught off guard, and as he pounces on their heads, he finds it easy to dig his sword directly into their eyes. When they fall, he jumps off with them, landing with a thud and a pained exhale on the ground.
There’s slight hope. More of the swarm is leaving, and they’d just have to follow it to Fort Hateno, and with the help of the Sheikah, they could take it down. They just had to hurry and get there-
Zelda screams, and the tree she was hiding behind fall over in a burst of flames. As another laser charges up, he can see the Guardian gleaming blue and crimson, malice pouring out of it, ready for the kill.
He hurries past, feet falling over himself. There’s bright light and—
The laser slams directly into his chest.
It was painful moments like this that begrudgingly remind Link that he is mortal. That he couldn’t take a million shots before going down. That there is only so much protection he can give before he falls.
That doesn’t mean he’d give up before every last ounce was gone.
It’s blurry and smoke and fire, and there is light beside him, warm and forgiving. Unsteadily, sword in hand, he launches it at the Guardian, and hears the metal come to a complete stop. Through bleary eyes, the Master Sword is just below the Guardian’s blacked out eye, glowing brightly, beckoning him to take her again.
“Link…? Link, are you okay?” Not really. He bites his lip, nodding slowly, and with her help, he allows himself to be pulled up. She glances down at his wounds, touching his chest gently. “You’re injured—”
He shakes his head. Doesn’t matter.
Picking up the sword with a stumble, he wanders back to her, before falling to the ground again. Everything hurts.
The Guardians’ metal is stark in his hearing, warning them that they’re nearby, that they need to get moving, that he needs to take her to safety, but he can barely move, his legs dragging into the ground as he lets out a small ragged breath.
He manages to get to his knees, sword dug into the ground, mudded and bloody like him, and through half shut eyes, he sees the Guardian run, nearly move past them, and he prays to Hylia that it’ll keep going, but it stops, and turns. The swirling blue eye meets his gaze and he shivers. Zelda’s hands are tight on his shoulders, urgent and firm.
He can barely breathe , each breath stumbling out of his lungs like he isn’t sure he’s going to take his next. Well…that’s true, he has no idea what breath could be his last, and he’s definitely cracked a few ribs, his flesh smelling of singed meat, and his nose crinkles at the smell.
Gotta keep going….gotta…save….Zelda.
His clothes are ripped and burnt, holes in his defenses, wounds peaking through the tears. It doesn’t matter, no matter how much of his stomach churns at what he looks like right now, at how much crimson he’s shedding, he has to keep going.
At least I’m shedding blood out of protection. I hope Hylia can appreciate that.
Her green eyes, like the forest around them, sweet and protective, glance down at him. “Link, save yourself! Go!” I’m not leaving you. Not ever. “I’ll be fine! Don’t worry about me! Run!” I’ll always worry about you. Especially now. I’m not running.
He stumbles upward, leaning on the sword for support, before tripping backwards, Zelda letting go of his shoulders as he attempts to ground himself.
Lift your sword.
He tries, but his grip slips, and he can barely manage to grasp it tightly, to stare the Guardian down and kill it in its spot.
Climbing over the corpses of its fellow Guardians, the Guardian leans forward, and locks onto him, ready for the kill, a proper hunter of its enemy.
Strike, Link.
He’s unable to focus on the crimson haze of the Guardian, his sword a mess of blue in his hands, and he squints through blurry vision, pointing it outwards.
Strike.
Zelda shoves him out of the way, and as he feels himself fall to the ground, he sees her glow.
“No!”
Light, there was brilliant light in the sky, no darkened embers scattered around the stormy clouds. It glows, and she glows, and she is light, and her power is here to stay
The golden glows paint the field, breaking down any Guardian in its path, blasting through the sky, and it’s warm, like a soft blanket on a winter day, her hand in his. It’s comfort, and the crimson pales in comparison to golden light.
He doesn’t realize he’s curled up on the ground, shivering and dazed, sword at his side, until he sees the cloudy, darkened sky above his gaze. No more light graces the air, and it’s simple rain, no blood, no crimson, just clarity, cold on his skin.
It’s freezing, and his eyes blink shut swiftly, no strength left to keep them open.
“Was that…? The power…” A whisper of astonishment from Zelda echoes through the air. She did it.
She unlocked the power.
Thank you, Hylia.
It’s frigid. The darkness surrounds him like a frozen iceberg, desperate to drown him. He swims upwards, clinging to the last grasps of light as the golden glow begins to disappear. Zelda’s shaking him, and he needs to get up, he needs to keep going, but he can’t.
“No…no! Link, get up!” She’s desperate, begging for him to rise, to live, trying to hold him close to bless him with her golden light. It’s enough warmth to crack his eyes open slightly to see her, shining brightly, a star from the sky crashing to the ground to save him. He coughs, blood trickling down his chin, and she gasps, supporting his neck as he pulls him close. Guilt wraps around his stomach, tight and restricting. She shouldn’t have to see him like this.
“You’re going to be just fine.” Link wants to believe her so badly. He wants to hold out for a little longer, wants to keep her safe, wants to see the next sunrise and the next moonfall. He wants to celebrate his 18th and hers, and every birthday past that. Yet, he has no ground on his mortality anymore. He’s slipping away, faster by the minute, following the speed of the blood released from his wounds. I’m sorry.
Now he understood who had to die in order for Zelda to get her power.
It was him.
He doesn’t want to die. He wants to stay here, and protect her for the rest of his life. He wants to explore the world, climb the tallest mountain, try every dish he can find, good and bad. He wants mundanity and excitement, to wake up in the morning in a cozy house, and then run out and protect town after town. He wants to pick berries with Zelda, spend time with his friends, meet new people, stop Ganon, make a world she and everyone can live in.
He wants to save the world. He needs to save the world. Or else why is he holding this sword? Why is he here, if not to protect?
Protect, kill, contain evil.
He failed at all of them. He’s going to die. He doesn’t want to die.
But it was worth it for her.
Does Hylia hate him for this? For her chosen hero to meet such an end, for his blood to drain from his body until he’s a knight’s corpse in a princess’ arms?
She chose him, and he failed , failed to continue on with Zelda, her power strumming in her chest, and to help Ganon fade away for the rest of time. Yet, he did it out of protection.
Was that worth it? Does that make it better for you?
Does it matter if I can’t protect her anymore once I’m gone?
His head limps back into her arm and she’s warm. His breath stumbles out of his lungs, shaky and uncertain. This is his last breath, the last time he’ll ever feel the rain on his face. The Master Sword is still tight in his hand, and silently, he bids the sword goodbye.
You did good. Rest, now, until a new hero takes your hand again.
He doesn’t want to leave. The world is ending and the girl he loves is stuck in the middle of it, with nothing but the goddess’ light to guide her, the goddess that rejected her for so long, that wouldn’t give her power until he died. A noble sacrifice for a divine light.
He shouldn’t have to go. It’s not fair, it’s not fair she’s alone without her father, her friends, without her knight by her side. She’ll be fine without him but it’s not fair.
She’ll be okay. She’ll be okay but he won’t be there to see her shine, to see the light grace her once more, he won’t be able to help her stop the world from ending and what if there is no world to come back to, what then, he can’t leave, not yet —
Come, Hero of Hyrule, it is time. I will grant you peace. You have done well.
Hylia beckons him, her voice soft and solemn, and warmth leaves his chest in a rush. His heart fades with a final beat. Blood still pools out of his head and his body, his skin pierced by a thousand icicles, breaking apart the warmth of life to dig him into the void of death. The world spins, coming to a steady halt on Zelda’s face.
I love you. He thinks. It’s a selfish thought, and even more selfish that he wonders if she loves him too. Silently, he hopes she does. He should say it. He should tell her, before he’s gone, so that love may carry her to wherever she goes next.
Yet he can’t. His throat is metallic, his eyes locked onto hers, and they close forever.
He dies in her arms, having protected her for as long as he could, and tears fall down his face. They’re warm. They’re hers.
Keep her safe, Hylia.
---
There’s a light. It is warm, and bright, blinding a wandering gaze in the void of darkness. He’s surrounded by it, the cold brushing the hairs on his skin. The light glimmers, hopeful and urgent.
Open your eyes…
In a bright flash, yellow light bleeds into blue, blinking slowly, in and out. It’s frozen all around him, foggy and smooth.
Open your eyes…
More light bleeds through his vision.
Open your eyes.
Wake up, Link…
When he opens his eyes, feeling the blanket of water drain around him, everything is missing. His hands are empty, a ragged tunic no longer clinging to his body. Scars decorate his body, one large by his chest, and with a hand to the back of his head, he outlines the scar through his touch. A girl’s voice rings out in his ears. Who was she?
Where was he? Who was he?
His name. Link. That’s what the voice said he was.
You are Link. The ______ ____ of ______.
You are _____’s protector.
Hylia beckons you.
Remember.
Nothing comes. He stares ahead, in the cold chamber (that later he’d learn was a resurrection chamber, was something to bring him back from the harsh hands of death), his hair wet and matted, a hair tie around his wrist.
Tears burn in his eyes. He folds in on himself, hugging himself tightly to comfort himself from the cold. He can’t remember. He can’t remember anything .
He’ll stand up eventually, and continue through this strange chamber he’s found himself in. But for now, he grieves nothing and everything.
Blurred faces pass through his mind, the smile of a blonde girl, hand in hand, a bright flashing blue light. The whisper of a sword.
The drip of blood, pouring steadily out of wounds scattered. Hidden pride, the smile of a goddess.
Now, it was nothing but smooth skin and blue water.
It felt wrong.
You have fallen and poured crimson for protection.
Thank you, ____.
You must continue.
You are the ____.
Save her.
Save _____.