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“GO!”
The rough command roared down the hall, chasing her like the enemies on their heels.
“KEEP MOVING!”
Zelda gasped for breath, skidded a meter in her silk slippers when the castle rumbled; she hiked her skirts up higher and didn't stop, as she’d been ordered, sprinting across angled tiles.
“GO!” her chosen knight bellowed again, in between clashes of his sword. She winced at the sounds, even though they were barely heard over the world collapsing around her.
Unbeknownst to her, her knight winced at the same time—a slash to the shoulder, piercing skin but thankfully not deep enough to impede him. His opponent—this opponent—wielded the dismembered scythe of a mechanoid, unnaturally and unimaginably sharp, but blocked his allies from spilling into the hall.
Just two more halls. If he could get the princess through two halls—
He was nearly decapitated by a feint and lunge—shit—he rolled through another rumbling of the castle, and was only just that much faster than the soldier to get to his feet—
With a vicious stab and a fount of blood, the man fell backwards. Another had already breached the doors—
Link just managed to yank his sword out of the first body and block a hit from the second—goddesses above, he'd never killed so many men, his boots were soaked through with their blood—the block managed to send the second soldier stumbling backwards, keeping a third and fourth from coming through—
Link turned and ran.
Get to Zelda.
The princess was already near the next set of safety doors, running as fast as she could, but Link caught up to her in seconds, grabbing her arm and nearly dragging her forward.
More than anything, protect Zelda.
Another explosion bombarded the castle, setting the whole building rumbling again like a major earthquake—outside the great, shattered windows, they both caught glimpses of laser fire, great plumes of smoke, unfamiliar ships in their skies. The screaming and gunshots had been going on for so long, they felt like white noise.
“Go!” Link yelled again, his voice starting to give out, the enemies hot on their heels and firing after them recklessly. He didn't know how many there were—hopefully only the six or seven that had first come after them. All baseliners, as far as he could tell; they'd had mechanoids with them—their army still had plenty of the damned bots on their side—but Link had managed to blow up this squadron’s dropship of robots with a well-placed bomb.
That didn't matter, now, though. He and Zelda were as good as dead if they didn't get to those doors.
He shoved her through the safety doors and spun to face the soldiers as he slid through—three meters away, thank the fucking Goddesses, he heaved a great steel door closed, it’s twin closing with it—
“No, you don’t—” one of the soldiers snarled as he dove through—
The fool: Link threw all his weight onto the safety door, and it latched closed on the man's arm.
He didn't stop to watch what happened to it. He heard the crunch and the scream, though.
Zelda ran further ahead, slowing with exhaustion, but she hadn't yet stopped. She’d almost hesitated, almost turned to help Link with the door, but, for once in her life, she listened to him.
This was what he was trained to do, she thought with the cold starkness of crisis. To trade his life for her own.
She didn't have the space to feel relief when he rushed to catch up to her again, still by her side, but she knew she’d—
Something assaulted her brain, sudden and like the sound of a thousand sharpening knives, piercing through her mind. She screeched but didn’t hear herself; the building may have rocked, she may have fallen, but all she knew was that Link had caught her and practically carried her to the next set of doors, and then beyond.
She half-slid, was half-placed on the floor against a wall, and then Link was gone, and she panicked.
Cursing and frantic, Link sprinted back to the last two sets of safety doors; a double lock, the final barrier. He looked down the hall as he shoved the first set closed, dizzy with relief when he saw the enemy still hadn't broken through. Thick, leaden doors swung shut and barred themselves with their pressurized locks; without hesitation, he began to seal him and the princess in with the final set.
With the closing of the lead doors, the psychic barrage on Zelda's mind weakened, leaving nothing more than a pounding headache in its wake. She held back a sob and managed to pry open her eyes enough to find Link with her, now, where she’d been placed just inside the doors.
“Princess,” he gasped softly, panting and his voice hoarse from shouting. He kneeled in front of her and pulled her hands from her face. “Zelda, we need to keep going.”
“I don't understand,” she whispered to him, but she wasn't talking about the psychic attack. “I just don't understand.”
But she did understand. She just simply could not believe it.
Could Lorule have really done this? Turn on them so suddenly, so utterly, with technology so far beyond what either of their domains had? Why? How?!
... Could Hilda really have done this to her...?
“I know,” Link tried to soothe her, all his sorrow and empathy in his voice, a vulnerability he rarely showed. Another boom, muffled now that they were this deep into the fortress, shuddered through the floors. Zelda wondered how much of her castle—her childhood home—was still standing.
Her heart wrenched for the people outside the walls. They had no secret royal escape routes.
Link pulled her to her feet, yanking her out of her guilt.
Right. Keep moving.
Deep into the mountain they went, first down below the ground, then back up. Sterile tiles turned to steel, then rough-hewn stone; they passed branches and twists, tunnels that led to dead ends or other entrances; Link sealed those doors, too, as they went. They’d both ingrained the correct path in their minds long ago, and there were no allies to block off: no other royals lived any closer than the other side of the planet.
Zelda's heart flipped at the thought, thinking of her younger sister, Echo. She’d sent the girl away mere weeks before to spend some time with their Praetor, Zelda's aunt. Surely, she was safe there, on the main planet of their little empire. Surely, Praetor Lullaby was sending aid now, her domain secure with their superior fleet and military.
Oh, but what of Princess Dottie, who shared the other half of the planet with Zelda...
Numb and spiraling in the horror of it all, she yelped when Link cursed and stopped short.
Link let go of her hand to rush forward, and she saw what had made him stop:
The final set of doors were closed.
She didn’t fully realize what that meant for a moment, so wrapped in her head, but he did immediately. Link slammed on the thick, steel doors, realized the pointlessness of such an action a second later, then began to look for a crack, a switch, a panel, something—his fingers dug into the thin seal between the doors in desperation.
“No, no, no,” he hissed, ideas turning to dust between his fingers when he failed to find any weakness in the obstacle. “Gods damn it all, no!”
Finally back to herself, Zelda muffled a gasp and grabbed Link by the shoulder when he started to bang on the doors again in frustration.
“Link,” she whispered, yanking his hands back in a way he would allow no one else. “Do you know what that means?”
“It means we need to find another way to the docks,” Link half-growled, half-shouted. She shushed him frantically.
“It means there’s someone already inside.”
There was a second of silence as this knowledge sunk in, the explosions in the distance now nothing more than distant thunder.
They both knew there was nothing more to be done.
Zelda saw the grief on Link’s face before he hid it behind his usual, steely determination. There were no allies who could have reached the docks before them. And there was no safe path back to the castle.
Slowly, Link drew his sword.
“Zelle,” he began, his private nickname for her, a chord in his voice like an apology. She was surprised that her heart had any more places it could break. "I need you to get back to the last set of doors, and hide."
“Link,” she began to argue.
“Princess—” he said, his voice near to an order, once again her stoic, impersonal guardian—and she grabbed his hand in reckless defiance, not caring for the sword he held at the ready. The blood from his shoulder wound had dripped down his arm, now smeared itself on her white gloves. She didn’t flinch back.
“Let me fight with you,” she insisted to him one last time, holding their hands up like a vow. “... Please, Link.”
He would not die alone for her.
She remembered the look on his face, when he’d found out the truth about their bond. A memory as clear as yesterday, years later: he’d been wary, and resigned, and repentant. They’d known each other as children, after a series of happy accidents, and she’d always remembered him fondly. It wasn’t until he’d come to her, a small wooden chest in his hands, and knelt before her throne that… she’d learned.
A series of letters and keepsakes laid within the box. His uncle had died the month prior, and the small chest had been left to Link. Neither he nor the princess had known. Both Link’s parents and Zelda’s, the king and queen, had passed before the truth had come out—and Link promised that the truth could stay hidden, for his only request was to reunite with his only remaining family.
She looked into the grieving eyes of her elder brother, and decided she would not send him to die while she hid like a coward.
“I will fight with you,” she demanded again, every bit as strong as he was.
She saw in his eyes the moment that he understood.
Wordlessly, Link unclipped a dagger from his belt for her. They shared a moment, silent, both thinking their own thoughts, about their bond, about their kingdom and whether it still stood.
Then, Link started to bang on the door again, loud as he could.
Though she was unused to such a thing, the princess kept her fighting stance, dagger held in both hands. Her skirts had been purposely ripped, Link noticed in a quick glance, to make running easier; her ornaments had been discarded, deemed useless. Her hands did not shake.
He was so proud of her, the lone princess of Hyrule.
Zelda had almost expected nothing to happen. Then, a click, and then the gears within the security doors began to turn.
They both jumped back as the barricade bar unlatched and lifted itself out of position, as the heavy steel started to slide open, slow and yawning like the dozen before it.
Fast as lightning, Link pounced on the figure the doors revealed as soon as the opening allowed it, knocking it to the ground with a quick kick to its ankles and holding his sword to its neck.
“Wait!” the figure screamed, and—against all better judgment—they did.
They had both expected a full platoon, possibly an enemy ship docked in their bay. Soldiers and mechanoids, heavy fire power, even psychic attacks—Zelda winced at her still-throbbing head. As the doors finished gliding, it revealed their ships—two small space crafts, hardly big enough to be called a ship, able to hold a group of six or seven at most—one of them horribly and newly damaged, like several people had opened fire on it.
Two armor-clad Lorulians lay face-down on the ground, clearly down for the count. The only other person was the man at Link’s feet. Otherwise, the docking bay was empty.
The one beneath Link’s sword did not wear armor, but the crest on his robes was obvious. “Lorule,” Link spat like a curse at the sight of it. His sword dug a small prick into the noble’s neck, tempted to finish him off before getting any information.
“Please don’t kill me!” the noble gasped, his hands clawing towards his neck and freezing in place when Link moved in warning. “Please!”
Zelda stepped forward, her eyes still searching the docking bay, her hands still clenched around her dagger. “Link, wait,” she echoed the noble, voice hard.
“Why should I?” But he heeded her command, still her chosen servant, despite it all.
The only other entrance to the docks, besides the hologrammed gate hiding the landing bay, was a small door leading to the cliff face: an ancient staircase that led all the way down the mountain, several hours of climbing. This door had been barricaded shut with scrap metal and whatever tools and crates had been in the bay. There were signs of a scuffle.
“Speak,” Zelda commanded the Lorulian, with all the power of the reigning princess.
The man hid his face beneath a dark hood of silk, wine-purple and elegant, with lace trimmings; the layers rode up now, unmasking the paper-pale complexion of a born Lorulian, and two buck teeth behind trembling lips.
“It’s not right!” he choked, desperate and frantic. “It’s not right, what she’s done! What she’s doing to you!” Both knight and princess faltered, even if Link’s sword didn’t budge an inch. “Please! I wanted to help!”
Oh, her dear Hilda... Zelda’s heart shattered again, shards digging deeper into her chest at the reminder. What a fool she’d been, trusting the foreign queen. She’d only meant to send aid—their sister planet had always struggled with famine and war and toxic fallout. She’d only wanted to share Hyrule’s prosperity. And now, her own kingdom…
“Help how?” Link asked curtly, taking over for his liege when she failed to speak.
“The ship,” the Lorulian squeaked, even less confident with Link’s sharp eyes on him. “They wanted—they wanted to destroy your ships. I—I couldn’t—I stopped them! A-at least one! I saved one!”
“You saved one?” Link scoffed. He and Zelda shared a look, and then to the (indeed, intact) solitary craft, door open and waiting for them to board. “You took on these soldiers by yourself?”
“There will be more,” the Lorulian admitted without a proper answer, fidgeting under Link’s blade.
The fighting in the distance sounded much closer, now. Neither princess nor knight knew if that was solely because of the open side of the mountain, or if the warships were getting closer.
It all felt too good to be true.
“Link,” Zelda murmured when her knight didn't move. “We need to go.”
“This feels like a trap.” He aimed the words towards the hooded coward at his mercy.
“I promise! It's not a trap!” He sounded desperate, near tears.
Link made up his mind. “Princess,” he called, and gestured for her to take his blade. She hesitated—he could see misguided compassion in her eyes—but switched weapons with him when he explained, “Don't let him get up.”
He hurried to make a sweep of the bay, the soldiers on the floor (unconscious, but disarmed and bound), the spacecraft. He did a double-take, almost falling off the boarding ramp, when a flurry of white moved within the bridge.
“Fucking—there’s a bird!”
“My bird,” the noble called, sounding much calmer now that Link wasn't the one at his throat.
“Why the fuck do you have a bird?!”
The bird stared him down, unnervingly quiet. Its beady eyes hosted an unmistakable challenge. Link suddenly had a feeling that the noble hadn’t been the one to knock out the soldiers.
“Link!” Zelda called, panic and frustration starting to creep into her voice. Was that gunfire, now, in the distance? “We need to go!”
He would throw the bird out of its dark corner before they took off.
Finding no other threat, Link lingered at the command deck. Surely the noble hadn’t done this out of the kindness of his heart? Betrayed his queen, and his planet?
There was no time for extra precautions. He dashed back out, and took his sword from the princess. He didn’t sheathe it… but he did lower it.
“Go,” he ordered her, nodding towards the spacecraft. She rushed to it without any further hesitation, ruined skirts in her fists. The next explosion made the room rumble.
He looked down at the mask over the samaritan’s face. “... Thank you,” he said to the noble, unnerved, but genuine. The man had made some foolhardy decisions in order to help them. That much Link could acknowledge.
He took a few steps back, then turned to join his princess.
“Wait!”
Link startled and spun back, weapon raised once more. The noble scrambled to his knees, slipping with his long robes.
“Take me with you!” he gasped, hood falling back.
He was young. At least as young as Link, and baby-faced on top of it. And he looked terrified for his life.
“What!” Link exclaimed, offended at the mere suggestion.
“Please!” The young Lorulian man clasped his hands together, his big, unnaturally green eyes full of fear. “They plan to raze the planet to the ground—and if they find out I did this—! Please!”
“No!” Link balked at the thought of taking a Lorulian traitor on their tiny ship—always mere feet from the princess!
“Please!”
“Link!”
Once more, Zelda called for him, from the ship's boarding ramp. His attention snapped to her, aware of their dwindling time. She had the man's bird in her arms, the strange beast cuddling her like a precious pet.
“Princess! Put that thing down! Get back in your seat!”
“Link, he saved our lives!” she yelled, her voice raised over the approaching battle.
A bomb went off—somewhere close by, closer than any other they'd heard. The docking bay shook violently, dust shaking from the ceiling. A crack appeared in the tiled stone above.
The Lorulian had said there would be more soldiers. They were running out of time to argue.
“Fine!” Link relented, and sheathed his sword to hurry onto the ship. He didn't bother checking whether the traitor had followed him, focusing instead on herding the princess—and the damned bird—inside the ship. “Go, go, go!” he shouted over another blast, practically pushing her to her seat.
He would have turned to close the door, but the beep and pressurized sound of it sealing alerted Link that the Lorulian had indeed boarded with them. He looked instead to the flight controls.
The fear and dread hit him all suddenly, abruptly, at the rows of buttons—ironic, that it was now that he felt the horror of it all, and not when they’d been besieged in the castle.
Only in theory had he ever learned to fly a craft, in secret, in case of an unthinkable situation like this.
“Strap in and hang on,” he warned his impromptu crew as he sat in the pilot's seat.
He gripped the controls, very aware that all their lives, and possibly the fate of his kingdom, were in his hands.
Behind him, Zelda clutched the bird that now clung to her, her wide eyes following the switches and buttons that Link fiddled with. This was their last chance. There was no saving her kingdom, her planet. There was only escape, and the prayer that her allies would eventually find them.
Beside her, the Lorulian traitor buckled himself in, his teeth biting his lower lip. His hood was back on his face, but there was no hiding his anxiety. He’d really thrown it all away, for a different kingdom, and now he sat with an enemy monarch. Another last-ditch effort.
The final remaining knight of Hyrule put his hand on the lever, the engine roaring to life around them, and aimed towards the warships outside.
“Here we go,” Link whispered to himself, and pushed forward.