Legend of Zelda 1. Nocturne of Shadow

**_~When Shadows Fall~_**

**Summary: **"I will stand against this coming darkness," Zelda said, "I promise." After dreaming of things to come, a shy, nervous Zelda tries to take a stand against the dark future she has foreseen for herself and her people.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, Zelda isn't mine, if it were, it would be far more…awesome. I kid. I could never beat the masters at their own _game_. There's nothing like a pun to get a story rolling.

**AN:** Brief one my dears, this fic will have violence, torture, possible romance, swearing, OCs, and mild alcohol consumption by minors (since, you know, the water sucked in this period), if that's not to your taste, you might want to steer clear of this, though none of it should be too explicit. **Consider yourself warned.**

000

Part 1: Nocturne of Shadow

Through the shadows, Zelda ran. Her heart thumping within her chest, hands sweating, and her hair clinging to her forehead. Here, she could see nothing. The darkness enclosed around her, twisting and swirling like mist. Somewhere in the void, a voice like thunder and as deep as night reached her ears, making her stagger to a halt. Zelda fell to her knees, sharp stones cutting the delicate skin on her bare shins and hands.

"Where is the hero, child?"

Tears trailed down her face.

"Where is he who would stand against me?"

A warm, dry wind blew through her hair and dispersed the shadows around her, revealing that she was on top of a mountain. From the precipice, she could see all Hyrule spread out before her. Without warning, a great conflagration consumed the Kokiri Forest, leaving only the burnt corpses of trees in its wake. Then Death Mountain, tall and mighty, fell under a deadly chill. Lake Hylia's pleasant waters turned red with blood. The people of the Desert turned to stone. Other images came too: five lights consumed by shadow; a charred phoenix with broken wings covered in blood; a hand shrouded behind a curtain; a dark figure donning the royal garb.

"Speak, princess," said the voice from before, the earth beneath her quivered in its wake. Dread twisted her stomach into a knot.

"I will not let you do this." Zelda climbed to her feet her legs trembling beneath her, barely supporting her weight. She balled her hands into fists. "I will _not_."

The voice chuckled in response.

Clouds and smog twirled in horrid patterns beneath a red sun, its fires eating the lands below. Two armies fought. Some wore faded garb, dented armor. Most were clad in nothing more than ragged and tattered clothing, carrying pitchforks, spades, bent scythes, axes and makeshift spears. They fought creatures of legend, giant spiders, the undead, wizrobes dressed in ornate robes. Even from here, she heard the sounds of war: metal clung, cannons roaring, her people screams, the cries of agony and of woe. Zelda saw herself stab the heavens a with a gold rapier causing blood to fall from the sky, soaking the land beneath in a red flood. Yet, in the midst of that bloodstained land, a light arose, facing a tower built of obsidian and crimson stone. On top stood a dreadful figure, clad in black with golden eyes, his hair flowed behind him like orange flames. He leaped down from the tower taking the form of a dragon then wrestled with the light.

The dragon fell. The land clouded over. _Hidden_, thought the princess, tears dampening her eyes, _but saved._

Behind her, Zelda heard weeping. An aged man placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, a young woman with golden hair beside him. Soon, a crowd gathered on the mountain top: some Hylian, some Goron, some Kokiri dressed in green. A few were of a birdlike race she could not name. They all wept, a people alive but sobered, the last survivors of this catalepsy. In their eyes, she saw despair, but it was despair _tinged_ with something akin to hope.

"I will stand," she said, meeting the man's eyes. Zelda whipped the tears from her face with the back of her sleeve. Then she swept her eyes over the crowd, forcing a smile upon her face. For them she had to remain strong. They would need her in these coming days. "I promise."

The dream faded.

Zelda awoke.

The darkness around her smothered her, her breaths coming in raspy gasps. _No gods! Please—I'm on my bed__. How melodramatic can I get?_ A thick blanket covered her head. Another was wrapped tightly around her chest and torso. She tossed these to the floor, glancing around the room.

She could hear rain splattering against the parapet outside. Large drops from the sound of it. For the moment, that sound comforted her and eased her panic. On any other night, she would've picked up her blankets and rolled onto her side. The song the rain sang luring her back asleep, but the horrible vision kept sleep at bay. She needed to get up, not lay around like her mother's cat did in front of the fireplace where only a small blaze burned. Thomas, the ancient, orange tabby in question, yawned, stretching his legs and standing. It crossed the room, stopping in front of her bed. It scratched the decorate rug, looking at her, waiting for her to notice.

"Stop it," the princess whispered, but the cat did not heed her command. Instead, it ran its claws against the carpet, mocking her_. I can't even make a cat listen to me. How can I get anyone to?_

Though, admittedly, cats were supposed to be good listeners.

How was she to keep her promise if, in reality, she was nowhere near as strong, brave and wise as she had been in that dream? Why did that old, stupid cat have to remind her she wasn't some heroine like the Princess of Destiny of old? No, she was just a young woman who'd rather hide herself in books than learn to wield a sword or go to court. She wasn't worthy of her namesake. She shivered and, ignoring the cat's insistent clawing, Zelda called for her nursemaid: "Dena!"

The double doors slammed against the wall. In one hand, Dena carried a lantern, and in the other, a long knife. The woman walked like a creeping yet elegant beast, a cat, or, perhaps, a panther from the land of Cabiria. Zelda had read about those in her studies yesterday. Even if the blood-red eyes did not quite fit the beast's description, she was sure the hook-nosed nurse wouldn't mind the comparison. After all, the red-eyed, dark haired Sheikah could be fearsome when she was in the right mood. That was, if there was _ever_ a right mood. Even when the woman smiled, she looked like she was ready to kill any who endangered her charge.

Though, if Dena knew she neglected her archery practice for myths and sweet cakes, she'd get the sharp end of the woman's tongue. Zelda decided she had better things to think about. She get distracted later; books were quite good at waiting to be read.

"Princess," the woman said with a frown, glaring at the cat. Thomas stopped and fled. Zelda looked up. The orange lantern light transformed the lines on her faces into creases, and the creases into valleys. "Why did you scream? Did one of Prince Adrien's assassins jump out of the walls and come for you too?"

Zelda sighed. Dena had her own terrible sense of humor. "It was a dream..."

"Night terrors are no reasons to wake half the castle staff." She sat the lantern on the night stand.

Zelda blushed, remembering what she had done as a child. Shouting, screaming, calling for a mother that would not come. On nights like that, only her father's presence had brought her comfort, but she had not had those terrible dreams for many years. "No, no, not like those. It was dreadful. A prophecy, I'm sure of it!"

The aged woman shook her head, resting a hand on Zelda's wide shoulder. "A bad dream, even—"

"I'm sixteen."

"When was the last time Hyrule fought such an evil that those powers need be awoken again?" Zelda looked away. From the night stand, Dena picked up the clear glass of diluted wine.

"Take a drink." Zelda stared at the glass instead. "Zelda."

"I know what you're thinking." Zelda's grip on the glass tightened. "But just this once, please, put those thoughts aside."

"You must not let yourself become like Adrien," Dena said, weariness creeping into her voice. "You have to keep your head, child, we cannot have the heir losing her wits like her brother."

"He's just paranoid, not crazy." The princess slipped on her light blue slippers, placing the wine on her the stand a little more heavily than needed. "A thousand years is a horribly long time, I know, but even you won't say Ganondorf's name. Even father won't. Do you think the gods mistakenly endowed me with the mark?"

At this, Dena folded her arms. "Many princesses have had it. Inheritance doesn't equate to destiny, child."

"And the monsters that have been attacking caravans are just rumors. The crops haven't been failing. We've certainly not had problems that the Princess of Destiny didn't foresee long ago." Zelda walked past the nurse, passing the windows and the double doors that led out to her balcony. "Don't tell me you've not seen the reports."

The woman followed her in silence, however, bringing the lantern with her. They entered her study. Here, another fire burned in a small fireplace beside several book shelves packed with scrolls, leather-bound books, and a few rolled up maps. Many of these she had permanently borrowed from the library. Her desk faced three large windows, though the thick curtains had been drawn earlier that day. The desk was covered with books, stacks of paper, and a small collection of odds and ends. Even a plate with a few select delicacies she had stolen from the kitchen earlier that day. Or rather, Adrien had stolen them, he was a lot sneakier than she could ever hope to be.

Dena picked up a half-eaten honey roll. "Again."

Zelda stared. _Does she always have to do this?_

"If you keep stealing from the kitchen, you will be more than a little plump."

_Yes, what a silly question._ The princess hid her hands behind her back, rolling them into fists. "Please…, could you take a message to my father?"

"If that is what you wish." Tilting her head, she deliberately met the Sheikah's eyes. There was something there, doubt, but also, uncertainly, most likely. Dena furrowed her brow. "I will not stop you from this action, princess, but, I do not see it as wise. The king has enough on his plate, if you would do more than read books on…" She leaned forward slightly. "…panthers and the wildlife of Cabiria, perhaps you would have some idea what that man has to deal with it."

_I know plenty well. I just told you!_ But she kept these words to herself, instead, taking a seat in the cushioned chair. Dabbing her quill in the inkwell, she quickly penned a note to her father, only briefly mentioning the dream and her fears of what might come. After folding it, Zelda stamped it with her signet ring and handed it to her nursemaid. "And please," she said, giving Dena a pleading look, "ask him to meet with me. It's…it's important."

"I will." The woman sighed, placing it in the pocket of the satchel she always wore around her waist. "In the morning, I will send it. Good night, Zelda, and please, try to get some sleep."

The woman left, but Zelda barely noticed, instead, she had picked up a large, leather-bound tome and leaned back in her chair. She knew she would not rest tonight, but at the very least, she could relax. Tomorrow would have enough troubles of its own; she only prayed that her father would take the time to listen.

She opened the book and read from the tome: _When the Princess of Destiny spoke with her father to warn him of the man from the Desert, his eyes grew blind and his ears were deafened. He did not heed his daughter despite his love for her…_

Soon, she fell into a fitful sleep, her head laying on top of the tome on her desk. Once when she had awoken, she opened her curtains and saw that the sun had risen and it was nearing ten. Her stomach released a monstrous growl. _Breakfast_. She blinked. She hadn't had it so _late_ since she was sick last winter… What would the cooks think?

Then, she noticed a note on her desk. Quickly, Zelda unsealed the letter then sighed. She would meet her father, brother, and the captain at two. _Thank Nayru,_ she thought, _or not._ _Oh gods, please, make him listen._


	2. The Clown Prince

**AN:** Sorry for the lateness, I got sick then had quite a bit of work to do. Anyways, As I am no poet, the drinking song is from _A Tankard of Ale: An Anthology of Drinking Songs_, by Theodore Maynard, circa 1920. This book is _not_ under copy write, but I figure that some fellow writers out there might find it an interesting read and good for research purposes. The tune used in this chapter is "A Tankard of Ale" and can be found on 3w. Link provided: /stream/tankardofaleanth00maynrich/tankardofaleanth00maynrich_

Now onto the show! Some OCs appear in this chapter, please remember, characters are just being introduce at this point and no one will hit their character development in the opening chapter. It takes time, guys, please. :P

Finally, a big thank you for SmashQueen for beta-ing this…and guys, some warnings may apply to this chapter…(it's a little violent and someone swears). **Consider yourselves warned.**

000

Part 2: The Clown Prince

On that same morning, as was his custom, the King of Hyrule had called the Council together in order to speak on matters concerning their fair land. The Council was supposed to give the King advise, to tell him what was transpiring in Hyrule, and to keep him accountable to his people by making him meet with their representatives. A lovely idea, really, but old Nicholas setting on his bench was growing sore and sour. Even worse, he was bored out of his mind. Nicolas rested his head on his hand, trying not to fall asleep as he sat on one the benches in the Council Chamber. Usually, it wasn't this bad, but Theobald was a rambler. The man promoted enclosure, that was, allowing noblemen to enclose the common lands for their own personal use...for gardens, and hunting, and things that noble fools enjoyed.

And to their shame, the council would pass it. He knew this lot. Those wealthy fools, they wouldn't give a damn that this would only serve to make the famine _worse. _Rich men in ornate robes setting on cushioned benches didn't understand one iota about the people they were meant to represent. No, they only represented their own issues, their _own _people. Nicolas hated their idiocy, hated that Daphnes couldn't see that his own ideals had wrought more harm than good since he had established the Council of Fools, or Parliament.

They only created more problems for the people. Ah, how he still wished for the good old days when the king was treated as the absolute leader appointed by the gods. How could Daphnes think this was so much better? Daphnes who sat on a simple chair in the Chamber listening intensely, and glaring at Theobald's back whenever he thought no one would notice. He could strike this law down in an instant. Save the people from misery. Be the king his father had been.

Instead, he never raised his voice. While e looked about as amused as a man who'd been hit by the urine in the street, his anger didn't compel him to speak. Theobald called for a vote as the hand on the clock neared ten. Soon, enclosure passed into law. No one opposed. More gardens and venison, indeed. Like this fat lot needed any.

Nicolas sighed. At long last, the morning section ended. Nicholas' old bones groaned as he lifted himself from his seat, using his white cane for support. The other Councilmen and women had gathered in small groups by the time he reached his feet, but he wouldn't join that lot. They were all fools. Instead, he started to make his way towards the large double doors at the other end of the hall. They led to the main courtyard, hopefully a place where he could escape the reek of erudite stupidity.

"Nicholas." The old man in question stopped, cursing under his breath. Stupid legs, why couldn't they work fast enough to cross the white marble floors of the Parliamentary Chamber? When he was a youth, he would've fled this stuffy room minutes ago. Usually, though, no one stopped to bother him these days. He was just too damn old to be worth their time. Gods, he could barely remember the days when they'd respected him. "Advisor."

"Out with it, young man." He said in hoarse, worn voice. He could use some wine too.

The "young man" in question coughed. He knew that terse yet polite cough from anywhere, it was Daphnes, the king. The Advisor turned, and, like a lad forty years his junior, felt his cheeks flush red in embarrassment. Nicholas lifted a sleeve to his face, faking a sneeze and carefully wiping his nose on the blue robe that marked him as a member of the Council of Fools. It was, he figured, a proper use for such a garment, even his handkerchief deserved more respect than it.

"That is a kindly sentiment, Advisor, though one that, I fear, no longer applies." The King, however, wore a boyish smile which belied his gray hair and worn face. For a moment, his appearance seemed to shift. In front of him was a man that looked more like his son than either he or the boy would ever admit. Daphnes placed a strong hand on his shoulder, steering him towards the exit, thank the gods. "Walk with me, old friend."

"It will be a terribly slow stroll, your Majesty," said Nicholas as they passed out of the Chamber and into the courtyard. Two members of the royal guard fell in step behind them. In the tulip trees that lined either side of the stone path birds sang, and below the trees he spotted small red flowers planted in cultivated rows. Soon, they passed under an arch covered with climbing vines and large yellow flowers, entering the famed rose garden of Hyrule Castle. "To think, those fools think their gardens will compete with this one."

"Indeed," said the king as he stopped to examine one of the roses, this was his hobby after all. Though, one Nicholas had never quite understood. It wasn't particularly...kingly. Daphnes spent hours here, caring for the damn bushes. Pruning them, shaping them, and even talking with them; at times, he wondered if the king was not quite sane.

Perhaps that explained why he'd made the Chamber of Fools when he was the divinely appointed king!

"Zelda had a dream," said the king after he had finished examining the plant for any blemishes or disease.

"In my experience," Nicholas began, placing an aged hand on the man's high shoulder, trying to give his former pupil comfort, "Bad dreams do not warrant a detracted mind, Your Majesty."

At this, the king frowned and Nicholas found he regretted his words. Daphnes was not the kind of man to neglect his duties as father to the daughter he cherished so very much. And, without a mother to raise her, the man had always lavished more attention than the court saw proper. That, however, would not quill the worry wrought in the king's dark, blue eyes.

"Then what was this dream?" Nicolas ventured, folding his arms as a cold breeze picked up the corners of robe and blow them out behind him. Damn thing wasn't even warm. The old man shivered. "Not a mere childhood nightmare I take it?"

The king shook his head and led him to the fountain in the midst of the rose garden. Here a statue of the late Queen of Destiny stood, overlooking the courtyard with her stern gaze. From the bowl at her feet, water sprayed into the stone basin below where Hylian runes were carved into the marble fountain. A simple spell Crafted into the stonework of the fountain long ago to make it spray water high into the air in otherwise impossible patterns. Rumor had it that the queen herself had designed the spellwork, but Nicholas had his doubts, after all, the fountain had only been around for two centuries. She hadn't been alive in over nine hundred years.

"I would normally have taken it to be thus; yet recent events make me fear otherwise," said the king. Nicholas sat on a wooden bench in front of the fountain, his shoulders slumping. The king, however, did not notice. "At her navel, the priest said she would bare the gift of foresight as her ancestor once had."

"That," Nicholas said, after catching his breath, "was not in the official announcement."

"It did not seem wise to make it public." _Nor any of Council, your friends, or even your Adviser! Daphnes, you're more politically savvy than you appear at times._ He mused. If the king had informed the people, there may have been riots. Fear certainly, and after the famine and the Kakariko Rebellion that sprung up before Zelda was born, the people would not have reacted positively to such news. It had been a trying time, one, that had led the king to create the Chamber of Fools.

Nicholas frowned.

"You have your doubts, and, admittedly, so do I." The girl had been cursed with nightmares since her mother had passed away, even though they had lessened in the last few years. "But Nicholas…"

"She doesn't like me, you know, though I can't blame her." The king raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Perhaps if you did not whack her with a stick whenever she fell asleep, she would think better of you," the king replied.

Nicholas chuckled. "That may be the case, but if she could learn to listen when I lectured her on politics and history just as much as crafting potions and other magical items, than, perhaps, she'll still have her knees when she reaches your age."

The king did not look amused, but instead of commenting on his rant Daphnes said, "But if these dreams are prophecies, then your wisdom will be needed."

Nicholas ran a hand through his long, white beard in thought. "And if they are?"

"Then I will send her to safety," said he, "But I must ask, Nicholas, where is Adrien? Surely, he had lessons with you this morning ere the Council had its session?"

"The boy?" asked Nicholas, anger seeping into his voice unbidden. "Your son is just like you were, Daphnes. He scampered off, though knowing that clown, he's not off training with the royal guard or even the soldiers as you once did, no, he's even more boneheaded than you were!"

"At a tavern again." The King sighed. "But which one?"

"I may be able to answer that, or at the very least, be able to find him," said a man from behind the king.

Nicholas hadn't heard him approach, though, it seemed, neither had the king. He wasn't the only one going deaf. The young man wore boots on his feet. Those should've resounded against the white paving stones, yet neither had noticed if they had done so. A royal guard, or possibly knight, despite that the only sign of this was the sword he wore at his side. Instead of chainmail or armor, he wore a long coat in the Hylian colors, with no visible metal armor. It was just as good as a full suit of armor, he'd heard, but it was one of the newfangled crafted item that Nicholas didn't approve of. After all, it made the knights look less opposing, that was the _last_ thing this kingdom needed.

The young man bowed, a few dark curls bouncing over his brown eyes as he did so. _Needs a haircut too, _he thought, disapprovingly. "Your Majesty."

"Samuel." Ah, it was the Lord Captain of the Guard, Vince. The knight frowned. He did that too much, it would've helped his appearance, a little, if he tried smiling more.

"Councilor Nicholas." He gave a nod, then, stood, straight as a stick. A few inches over six feet, the man was nearly the king's height but nowhere near his girth. Daphnes, Nicolas had long figured, could go without a meal or three. "I did not mean to interrupt."

"As a matter of fact," said the King, "I wish to have a word with you, though not here or now."

The man nodded, still standing with that perfect posture of his. Nicolas looked forward to day Vince's back bent with age, if only because he had never managed to stand so straight himself. "As you command," Vince said, "when, Daphnes?"

Nicolas coughed. Disgusted, still, by the Lord Captain's lack of deference.

"Once you have found my son, and I pray you will not be late," Daphnes said.

"I will send my men to do so at once." He turned to go, but Daphnes coughed. "Your Majesty?"

"Do so personally, Samuel. You and he are to meet me at two past noon." The knight did not look amused, although, he never did. "Make sure he is sober. Nicholas, do you by chance…"

Nicholas pulled out a small bottle. In it was a green potion with a blue tint. He handed it to the king, who, in turn, handed it to the captain. "One mouthful," said Nicolas, "two if he's unconscious, do not overdo it, young man, or you'll keep him awake for fortnight."

He pocketed the medicine inside his long coat. "Thank you, Councilor." He gave another slight bow then turned to the King. "Your Majesty. With your leave…"

"Go, Lord Captain." After giving a nod to the two men on duty, Vince left, making his way through the rose bushes instead of using the path like a _normal person_ would. Whatever had brought him there was forgotten. _Or perhaps it was Daphnes idea. _Nicholas gazed up at the man as Daphnes watched the captain go. When he turned back to Nicholas, the king furrowed his brow further, adding to the worry lines that acted as a second crown.

"You too, Advisor," Daphnes said, "Go ready yourself for this meeting… If you could find a prophecy that matches what she says—"

"But that could take weeks to find," he said. "Even months."

"—do so. But be prepared to write it down. I do not wish to be the fool that my predecessor was long ago," he said, "though I fear I may be one already."

With that, the king left Nicholas in silence as the sun neared the eleventh hour. With a sigh, the old man collected himself, and started towards the Great Library in the Castle's north tower. Damn his back and his achy knees, it would be a long trip.

000

In a city the size of the capital, a young man could find any number of taverns and inns that cantered to those looking for a merry time at any hour of the day. So many, in fact, that Vince had regarded Daphnes' command as mere advice; one man could not hope to find the prince with such short notice even when he knew where to look.

Or rather, he hoped he knew where to look. If the prince had slipped out last night, Adrien might be lying unconscious in a back alley without his purse. Or in a bed of hay inside an inn. Safe, but without his purse. Once, they'd even found a note on his person. The author had demanded restitution from the crown for the tip of his nose, his ale, and his ears. He claimed Adrien had the singing voice of a ReDead. When Vince had become a knight, he'd never thought that one day he would be Captain Nanny or that the prince would cause more trouble for the royal guards than any robber or would-be assassin had in the last dozen years.

This was all because a new recruit had, once again, accepted a bribe. _Adrien __always runs off whenever Daphnes schedules a meeting_, he thought as he walked through the working class district. Here, among the mill and textile workers, one was likely to get robbed, but not as likely as in the slums. The roads were paved, but covered in muck; the tenements were made of a mix of wood and bricks, built so close together a fire could destroy the entire district. Vince had grown up in a place like this, back in Ordon, though the he wasn't used to the stench, anymore, or the crowds that filled the streets. It had been decades since he had joined the guard.

Vince felt a small knife cut his rupee purse from his belt. A moment later, a small hand grabbed. _It serves you right._ Vince thought, watching the urchin rejoin the masses fully aware he could've stopped her, but only at the price of a commotion. _You've let your attention lax with age. She probably needs it more than I do._ And he had another tavern to check, after all. It was the last one on this street, in fact.

The sign of The Wayward Pony gleamed in the sunlight. There was a fresh coat of paint on the sign, labeling the establishment as nice for these parts. Perhaps it served supervisors and merchants who were a little down on their luck. Those weren't the normal kind of rabble-rouser Adrien often liked to hang out with on these little escapades. He almost passed it by, but then, Vince heard an angry shout.

A scream.

Glass broke, shards falling in the sheet as he chair fell out the window. Near the door of the Wayward Pony, a small crowd of curious onlookers were gathering, waiting. Finally, door threw open; a burly man crashed against the old paving stones, spraying mud and waste at their feet. The crowd stepped back, then, a few brave souls ran past him to get a better look inside. Vince pushed through these and into the tavern itself.

_Dear gods._ He thought, stopping for a moment to study the scene. Men brawled: some wielding bottles, some chair legs, or any other weapon they could find in the chaos. Many laid on tables or on the floor, either unconscious or dead. One, however, stood out from the crowd like a golden cuckoo. Near the back of the tavern, Adrien wore a fine red long coat and a silk cravat, defended a young woman in a blue dress. The princess' face was as bright as the coat he wore, contracting with his golden hair. Unlike the others, he used a sword and a makeshift shield.

_Dammit Adrien._ Vince entered the chaos, dodging men, fists, and bottles. However, he kept his eyes locked on the prince. A large man came at Adrien from behind, a broken bottle in his hands. Vince shouted. Adrien lifted his shield in time. Glass shattered on impact, then the prince rammed the swords' pummel stone into the man's groin. His opponent bellowed in pain, giving Adrien a chance to hit the man's head with his shield. The man crumpled to the ground. The prince nodded and grinned, "Hey, Vince, here to join the—"

A different man stabbed him in the side with a chair leg. Adrien flinched, dropping his shield. His eyes grew wide with fear, panic. Vince swore under his breath, but even if he wanted to, he couldn't get there in time. He had his own problems to deal with.

Three men, drunk, charged at him. One threw a punch at him. Missed and fell over on his face. Another tried to slam a chair into his side. Vince caught it and pulled it from the man's grasp. He threw it at the third man before he could land a single blow. This, however, gave the second man time to grab a long knife from his belt, a not-so-drunk smirk spreading across his features.

_Great._ He glanced at Adrien. The boy eyes were closed. Nose crooked; bloodied. The girl he'd been protecting, however, had grabbed his sword and despite swinging it around uselessly, she had managed to injure the fellow who had knocked out the prince. It would have to be enough for now.

Vince dodged his opponent's wide swing, grabbed his wrist and twisting it, making the man drop the blade on his foot. The drunk cursed. The man fell, head-first, into a table. Vince took the knife from the man's foot and scanned the tavern.

Most of the men, it seemed, were too injured, scared, or dead to fight, including the man who had knocked the prince out. Some though, were smart and somber enough to cower under tables or behind chairs. One of these man sung a few words to a tune:

"_To those me good friend my love so extends,  
I cannot truly express it_;"

Vince carefully made his way over to Adrien, doing his best to avoid stepping on outstretched limbs, spilled drink, and broken glass.

"_When with you I meet, yer words so sweet,  
I am unwilling to miss it."_

When Vince reached them, the girl pointed Adrien's sword it at his chest. Vince simply took the drunk man's knife, pressed against her blade, and lowered it to her side. "You have my thanks—"

"He's the prince," she said, "I've seen his picture. I…he…I won't let you…!"

She tried to bring her blade back up again, but could not nudge his knife an inch. "Girl, I am Sir Samuel Vince, the Lord Captain of the Guard, I've no intention to harm him."

"But he's hurt...," she said.

"Let me see him then," he said. She glared. "Please."

At last, the girl nodded.

After going down on his knees, Vince checked the prince's wrist for a pulse. It was there, beating strongly. Then, he took out Nicholas' potion from the pocket of his coat and forced a few mouthfuls of the bluish liquid down Adrien's throat then watched him patiently. A few moments later, Adrien wheezed, hacking up air, but luckily, no blood.

"That…that…stuff's awful…gods, couldn't Lord Dastery make something that tastes better?" He paused to wipe spit from his face, but winced when his hand brushed his still-broken nose. "Hurt like shit."

"It'll hurt like Hell soon enough." Vince offered the young man a hand. "Here."

"Than…ks…but…" Adrien shook his head, leaning heavily on Vince as he reached his feet. "Twisted my ankle against that last fellow. You know, Vince, he was actually a good fighter, for a drunk."

Vince nodded. "Give the owner our condolences."

"She's heard them." Vince furrowed his brow, but smiled. She was a little...younger than he'd expected for an tavern keeper.

Adrien laughed.

"But thank you," she said, bowing. The proprietress looked at the prince, meeting his dark, blue eyes with a steely gaze. "I hope your father will pay for this. You can't let a girl go without her livelihood."

"Ah…of…course…," his voice snuck in his throat for a moment, "Father's going to kill me."

"Just another reason to head back."

Adrien's shoulders slumped with dread. "Yeah…"

000

Adrien did not like the smell of the infirmary. It was not that it smelled like blood or medicine. No, the ladies who ran it made sure it did not. Instead, it smelled like lavender and roses. Worse, it smelled clean, impeccably so. Just like the white sheets on his bed, and the white walls, and the white ceiling. Even the nightstand by the bed he sat on was white, and had they been able to, he was sure the fire roaring within the white fire place would have been white as well.

_It's a good thing they don't know how to force white fire to make heat_, he thought as he looked at the clock on the wall. It read one o'clock. His little adventure hadn't been nearly as successful as he hoped. In fact, had it been, he would be drunk right now in that tavern instead of somber with a sore nose and a sore ankle. The nurse had decided that a fairy was needed to heal these aches, or perhaps, father had commanded it.

_But it's not like father to be so wasteful. _He frowned, taking the plate off the nightstand by his bed. At least the food wasn't white. He picked up the roll and dumped it in his soup, taking a hearty bite.

A knock at the door signaled an unwanted visitor. After swallowing, Adrien called, "Don't just stand there like an idiot, come in."

The door clicked open. Vince stood there, frowning. Adrien let his back slump forward, purposefully. "Here to give me an earful, right?"

"Of air? Not like you need it." Vince entered the room, not waiting for him, the prince, to give the knight permission. It always amazed Adrien how others saw the captain as so formal, so proper, and even unkind. They often said he was more like steel than a man. But at the moment, the façade dropped a little, he could see fatigue in the captain's dark eyes, and a shade or two of worry. "You've got to stop doing this."

"There's a seat. Haven't got to stand, Vince." Adrien gestured to the stupid white chair. At least the paint was chipping. He could see spots of beige beneath. Vince did as he requested.

"Oh, you could tell me I need to be more responsible, but you know I won't listen. It's not like I'm the heir. Just the spare to the throne, ya know." He took another hearty bite for effect. "Not a worry in the world for me."

"Who'll be in the headlines tomorrow." Oh, right, the _Hylian Times_. Vince was like all the old men in the castle. He didn't like the _Times_ or well, the new _times_. Adrien guessed that was what happened when one grew up in an age when books were written by hands or worse, when scrolls were still considered good literature.

"It'll make me out to be a hero." He gave the captain his best grin. If Vince were a woman (or a young man), that would've charmed the socks off him.

Instead, Vince sighed. "Of course, the 'Clown Prince'," he said. Adrien rolled his eyes, taking another bite. "And me, your damn court jester."

"You don't make jokes." Adrien swirled his soup with the remains of his roll. "Or if you do, they're blacker than your hair."

"Adrien, if I hadn't gotten there faster, you and that girl could've died," He said, frowning.

Adrien sighed. Lecture time, he hated lecture time.

"Didn't you consider that? Don't you ever think before you do these kind of things?"

Adrien stare at his soup. The specks of bread, random vegetables, and beef seemed much more interesting than they had a moment before.

"All I wanted was to drink," he found himself saying, "you know, sing some dainties. I didn't think there was going to be trouble."

"And?"

"I defended her."

Adrien placed the bowl on the table. "I got some wine, sat at a table, and these two drunks came in and yelled at her. I hardly got a sip or two! When they threatened her, I came to her defense. It…then escalated and got…well, you were there, I…thanks for coming."

All he got for that was a nod. Not even a flicker of a smile. "We shouldn't leave the king waiting…" With that, Vince stood, leaving Adrien to stare at the clock with dread. Only fifteen minutes. _Perhaps…no, sometimes, I just can't escape him._

000

**A/N: **Ha, it seems my linebreaks weren't appearing. Right, 000's for now on. Woah, formatting error indeed!

*Enclosure was a real issue, but it's not quite right here (as Nicholas doesn't completely understand it, though he doesn't like it either), though it did cause a lot of problems for England in the 16th and especially 17th centuries...


	3. The Game of the Gods

**AN: **In which the plot _thickens_…Okay, that was cliché. Special thanks again to SmashQueen for Betaing this chapter. You can consider this a Christmas Present. This time, no warnings apply, so, no catchphrase either.

Darn, I was getting used to it too. Perhaps next time, now, onto the show! Another AN is at the end of this chapter…**consider yourself warned!**

**Part Three:** The Game of Gods

000

Zelda paced, the small train of her azure dress following behind her. It sometimes snagged on furniture or the golden trim of the lavish carpet which covered the wooden floor of the small waiting room outside of father's main study. Sunlight poured through the three windows, the maroon curtains pushed to either side. The light made her long, golden hair shimmer whenever her meticulous pacing led her to that side of the room. At long last, Zelda stopped in front of the oaken grandfather clock, looking, once again, at its silver face. It read half-past two. She sighed, a short, petite thing, and would have started to pace again if Adrien had not decided to speak his mind at moment.

"You won't make the old man hurry up by digging a trench in the floor, Zel." Zelda turned to him, meeting her brother's eyes with a fix gazed. He slouched on one of the cushioned chairs which stood against the wall, a cup of wine in his hand. A small plate of untouched fruit and sweet cakes sat on a small table beside his chair.

"Don't give me that look." He picked up a grape, rolling it between his fingers. "You know he's probably in there right now, eating his fill, having his own private feast. But anyway, do you want one?"

Adrien gestured at one of the pastries. Zelda picked one up and took a bite. She always ate whenever she grew anxious, a habit which…_which has some unfortunate results…_ and the tight bodices that were now in style did little to obscure her more than curvaceous figure. _I have more important things to worry about than that!_

"Adrien," Captain Vince said. The captain leaned against the wall, arms folded below his chest. Even so, he still looked like a man that could attack at any moment. She'd never liked him, but then again, she didn't know him that well. But the scars that covered his face had frightened her when she was a child. Now, however, she did not know what to make of him.

"It's the truth, though." Her brother swallowed his grape, and, somehow, slumped down further into the cushions of his chair. If he slouched any more he'd end up on his back, his feet in the air. "The old man plans a meeting for two then is late for his own meeting. Oh, I know you have to show loyalty to our father, but you've been at this job long enough that he must've done this to you a thousand times over, maybe a million. A billion? Zillion?"

"Perhaps he scheduled a meeting we three weren't invited to," said the captain. "It may have just ran over."

"Us…three?" Zelda looked from her brother, to the captain, then back again. "What…? I thought he was only here for…for security…to guard the door."

"Security? He's the Lord Captain and a knight to boot. Though, I admit, father's a bit overprotective," Adrien remarked. "Actually, father requested our presence. Don't know why. Probably to remind me of what a terrible son I am."

"No, just a terrible brawler."

"Huh?" Adrien asked with a bewildered expression on his face. Sometimes, Zelda could not believe how daft her twin could be. Even she had seen him fight, and despite not being that good at the sword herself, she knew her brother was not _that_ much better.

"But why are you here?" Zelda took a lock of her hair then spun it around her finger, a nervous habit that she had had since she was a child. "I just wanted to speak with father, not have the whole castle hear about it. What is he thinking…?"

"We're hardly the whole castle, sis." Adrien shrugged. "I haven't an inkling, though, honestly. I could name a thousand places I'd rather be."

Zelda felt anger nibble at her inside, but kept the emotion below the surface. The only sign of her anger was that she pinched the strand of hair she had twisted around her finger. "Captain," the man in question lifted his head slightly as she spoke, "did my father inform you as to why he invited you and my brother to this meeting?"

"No, princess," came the succinct reply.

"Since Adrien was at the tavern," the prince rolled his eyes when she said this, but still wore a cheeky grin, "did my father tell you to come personally?"

He nodded.

"Was there anyone with him at that time?" she asked.

"Lord Dastery."

_He…he…didn't!_ She glanced at the door to the study, then, with a firm step, crossed the room and placed her head against the heavy wood. It was impossible to make out any words on the other side, but she could still make out the rumble of her father's deep voice and then, Lord Dastery's reply. Heavy footsteps, but no one came to the door. The anger that had begun to fill her chest earlier finally came to a boiling point. Her cheeks burned, and, as usual, tears of frustration dampened her eyes.

"Sis…?"

She turned the golden door-handle. Throwing the door open with all her strength, it slammed heavily against the wall. Lord Dastery swiveled in his seat at the long, redwood table, tipping a bottle of ink as he did so. Her father, however, did not even appear startled. He did not even glance at her. Instead, he continued to stare at the roaring flames in the fireplace, hands folded behind his back. The king was eerily calm, like the cloudless blue sky outside the castle.

"You…what…father!" she shouted incoherently, and finally settled on: "…Why?"

He turned his head slightly in her direction. "It is to keep you safe, Zelda."

"Safe…? Safe! But I told you… I told you I'm needed here…" The words fell from her mouth, but more like squeaky notes from a flute than thunder. Though Zelda had not told him the details of her dream, she had told him that she _had_ to stay. Tears fell from her eyes unwanted, dampening her cheeks. "Father, please…I beg you, don't do this."

He finally looked at her. In his cobalt eyes, she witnessed a sea of emotions: uncertainty, fear, even, perhaps, a taint of guilt. The king placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. "My dear child," he began, but did not try to bring her closer or cross the gap between them. At that moment, she felt like that small space was insurmountable, that the closeness they had before might now be lost. "I do this because I love you, Zelda, and your brother. I cannot stand to lose you..."

She turned aside, but inevitably found herself looking upon her mother's portrait above the fireplace. She could barely remember that woman, only her bell-like laugh, her ginger hair, and stunning green eyes. While father had rarely told them stories about the woman he had loved and lost, she felt her heart sank to her stomach, and found herself studying the ornate carpet beneath her feet. _It's because he lost you, isn't it?_

A dead woman, however, cannot answer.

"I will go, father." Zelda sank into a chair at the end of the table, her resolve to fight him defeated. "But, please tell me, where do you plan to send us?"

He motioned for Adrien and Captain Vince to enter. The prince did so wearily, first glancing at his father with an angry glare when he noticed Zelda's tear-stained cheeks, then he made his way to the chair at the furthest point from the heavyset man. Adrien deliberately slumped into the chair, hitting the wall with its back, and threw his booted feet on top of the table. The captain, who had chosen to stand as was his wont, coughed, commanding the prince with his eyes to take his feet off and to try, for once, to act somewhat princely.

At any other time, Zelda would have found Adrien's disobedience amusing; instead, she barely managed a fake smile. She turned once more to her father who finally spoke, "Samuel, you, two other knights, and some of the royal guard will escort my children to the City of Ordon."

The man, in question, furrowed his brow. "Ordon is two weeks travel from here," the captain remarked, "It's not my place to question your orders, Daphnes, but what has changed? Why take the princess from the Castle when the people need her here?"

"Zelda can answer that," said Lord Dastery, "Though..."

"I had a vision…or…I think it was a vision…" All of their eyes landed on her; Zelda's face flushed. Adrien and father raised identical eyebrows as she spoke. Zelda's throat grew dry, but to her surprise, it was old man Dastery who gave her hand a comforting squeeze. She was sure he had doubts. He was, after all, a scholar who had become a Councilman and a lord due to his erudite nature instead of by birth. But he was also the person most familiar with the ancient texts and prophecies in the kingdom. If anyone could prove that what she saw wasn't just a nightmare, he could.

"I think…it…it was a warning. A warning that the King of Evil would soon return." Zelda played with her hair. "There was just so much…fighting, war, bloodshed. Kokiri Forest burned, Death Mountain turned cold, and a voice—the Evil King's voice—asked me where the hero was. Where he had gone. It was as if he was hidden or lost, I didn't understand it."

Zelda shook her head. "Then…then I saw me."

"And what did you do?" asked Dastery as he took notes in a letter bound book.

She looked at her father. "It doesn't matter."

"Child, it is important," he said, "I have once again looked over your ancestor's visions before I came to this meeting, while I remain skeptical, this…dream does sound similar to them."

"I see," said her father.

"While your plans may not align with that of your father's, it does not mean that they are undone, nor does it mean that he and I won't listen." He gave the king a reproaching glare. It reminded Zelda that Lord Dastery had once been his tutor as well. "Continue at your own whim, princess."

Gathering her thoughts, Zelda sat still for a few moments. What would they do if they knew the truth? Would he still send her away? Could she reason with her father, a man she knew could be as stubborn as the castle walls were hard? She took a deep breath, and finally broke her silence: "I took up a rapier and led the forces. It was me. I promised to stand, father…so, please, don't send me to Ordon. What could I ever accomplish there?"

"You know, she has a point," said Adrien who now rested his head upon his hands in an almost thoughtful manner. "I can't say I want to go either, it's not like the girl's in Ordona are nearly as pretty as those in the Lanayru Province. And speaking of girls, I happen to remember a lady who I promised to meet for tea this afternoon, I shouldn—"

"Adrien, do not interrupt," said the king, he then spoke to the captain in a low tone of voice, "Samuel, have a scribe send Lady Valette a formal apology once we are done."

The captain nodded.

"My decision still stands," said the king, "May the gods forgive me for what I have done."

He left, leaving Zelda frozen, unable to move as she watched the others follow suit one by one. Adrien had gone in a furious rage; Captain Vince with a polite nod; and Lord Dastery requested to speak with her as soon as she was ready. Once she was alone, the tears came again, first wiggling down her face and then, falling freely. _Nayru_, she thought, resting her forehead on her sleeves, as she cried into them._ I thought you were wise, father, not selfish! I thought you'd put the kingdom first, not me..._

_I…I trusted you._ She sniffed. _But what do I do now?_

She heard heavy footsteps from behind, but did not look. Zelda didn't respond when his hands rested on her shoulders. Instead of hugging her as he often would, he spoke, his eyes, doubtlessly, on the portrait of his wife, "have I ever told you what happened to her?"

She did not respond. Her father moved a chair close and sat beside her. "Zelda, my dear child, you are all I have left."

He placed her head against his chest, letting her tears dampen his thick, kingly robes. "You weren't too young to remember, but when your mother was…assassinated, I had Nicholas wipe your memory of her death. We found you with her when it happened. Your mind was broken, that is why you cannot recall her, child, I could not let my daughter…"

A few tears landed on her hair. She tilted her head, and, despite the part of her that was still angry, the part that was still enraged that he had not listened, she hugged him in return, burying her head in his robes once more.

"I've…almost forgotten her completely," she said after several moments had passed by, "Did Adrien...?"

"He remembers more than you," answered her father. Zelda slid back into her own chair. He still had one arm wrapped around her shoulder, however. "And blames me for what happened. He thinks, I believe, that had I not gone hunting that day, I could have stopped her assailant."

"And," Zelda said, bowing her head, "you think so too."

It was why, she realized, Adrien hated him. _Does he hate himself?_

"That is why I must protect you."

"Father…"

"I do not ask you not to resent me, dear child," said the king, "but I am too weak to sacrifice my own child at the whim of the gods. Please, forgive me, but I love you too much to let the gods make you a toy in their games."

She nodded. But found that, for the moment, she could not forgive him. For now, anyways, forgiveness would have to wait.

000

In a moonlit chamber, a sword rested in its eternal slumber in a stone pedestal. This was the Master Sword, a legendary blade once wielded by the Hero of Time to defeat the forces of darkness in a time long ago. A time long past that the most ancient tombs only held legends and a few snippets of history and prophecy. What they had from that time was mostly half-remembered lies, but Nicholas was sure that such words would do little to quill their fear. _And if I am to be honest with myself, I fear it to._

The very thought made him shiver.

_Though only time can decide if it was a vision or not_, he thought as he slowly climbed down the steps which led further down into the chamber. The small light spell he had crafted into his staff was enough to light the way so that he could see the edge of his robe and the stairs beneath his feet. Of course, his hip could give out or his bad knees could cause him to fall, but today, his luck held out neither of these ill fates occurred. Instead, he reached the bottom of the staircase unharmed. From there Nicholas could hear that poor child praying, beseeching the gods for guidance and hope.

"And please, make father change his mind." Zelda lifted her head when she heard his irregular and slow gait. The child was on her knees, a shawl draped over her shoulders. On the back of the cream colored cloth there was a blue phoenix dyed into the fabric. It was an impossibly old emblem preserved by an ancient spell sewed into the other side. The shawl had been passed down the royal line. Before her, it had been Daphnes', though, he had never used it, and before him, his mother's. One old, dusty myth said it had been the sailcloth that the first Zelda—the human incarnation of the Goddess Hylia—had given to her hero in that time before time.

That could only be symbolic. Not even the best Crafter and Mage could create a sailcloth that lasted that long. _It's probably just a replicate._

But he was not here to reminiscent on a piece of cloth that could give no answers of its real origin. He may be known to get lost in thought, but he _did_ have business to get to. Thus, he climbed the few steps that led to the pedestal, gazing up at the giant, stone statues of ancient knights and then at the remarkable stained glass windows. Each housed the icon of an ancient sage, their images held forever in the ancient artwork. Each was lit by a light spell carved into the wall behind it, a Crafted masterpiece which had lasted centuries.

"I've always found this chamber amazing," he said, having caught his breath while he was lost in the cobwebs inside his head. "Excellent architecture, but not just that, the magic in used here is…_art_ in itself."

"And history."

"Oh, of course, but I did not want to bore you with such an obvious point." He smiled. "That, however, is not why I have come."

"Do not tell me I should be in bed," said the young girl, "I will not be leaving for a week yet."

"Wouldn't listen if I did." He stuck his hand in his robes, then, took a large scroll from within. Like most Hyruleans, he had a small bag that could fit more in it than should have been possible. But unlike what foreigners believed, there were limits. He could not fit a horse in one, at least not one as small as this. "Child, what brought you here?"

"I wished to speak with the Goddess of Time." She now sat, her legs folded beneath her. It was good that she no longer wore that bulky gown. Instead, Zelda now wore a long, simple blouse and beige slacks. Something that would cause a scandal if the _Times _heard of it, but unlike her brother, she would never dare provoke them by wearing this in public. He had once wore a dress to the Festival of Time. That had been a disastor. "This is her Temple though it has changed from the days of old."

"Indeed," he said, "but is that all?"

"All?" She tilted her head to the side, looking more like the little girl she had been not too long ago. "Whatever do you mean?"

"This is also where one may enter the Sacred Realm, and, of course, where one can enter the Chamber of the Sages and the Temple of Light," Nicholas said, then pointed at Rauru with his staff, "though there hasn't been a Light Sage since that old man died of a damn heart attack nearly a ten centuries ago."

"Ummm..." He smiled. Being old meant he did have an excuse to ramble, sometimes.

"Oh, right," he handed her the scroll, beckoning her to open it. After doing so, Zelda frowned.

"It's a map," Zelda remarked, dryly.

_Obviously child,_ he thought in response. Some responses he had learned to keep to himself. Age could teach some wisdom, especially wisdom pertaining to _when_ one should keep their mouth shut. "More than that, it tells you where the Temples and the Sages, or their descendants, may be found."

For a while she studied it, but the frown on her face grew deeper. Zelda shook her head and began to roll it up, but Nicholas pointed to a dot in the southeast corner with his staff. "Can you read the label?"

Unlike Adrien she did not roll her eyes, but she did sigh a little in annoyance. "Yes," she answered, squinting her eyes due to the lack of light, "The label is in Ancient Hylian, but I think it translates to 'Woods'."

"'Forest'," he corrected. "That is where the Forest Sage and her Temple could be found."

Zelda said, "That doesn't matter. This map doesn't correspond to the current country. Years have passed since this map was made, Lord Dastery, I could never hope to even begin to use it. Why are you smiling like that?"

"I see that you have learned so much from your studies, princess," his voice dripped with sarcasm. "If you had, you would know that forest is in the region of Ordona, near the City of Ordon. Three weeks, and you shall be there. If I am right, whatever you need to do, is related to the Sages and the Temples..."

Zelda blinked. "Was this my father's doing?"

"No, no, child," Nicholas said. She carefully handed the scroll back to him. "A servant will deliver a case to you once I have transposed these locations onto a contemporary map."

"Advisor," she said, wrapping the shawl around her arms and thick torso like a blanket, "What made you…?"

"Betray Daphnes?" He furrowed his brow.

The princess nodded, bowing her head.

"I wouldn't call it a betrayal, for I shan't be the one making a decision to act on this information." Nicholas gave her a smile punctuated by sadness. "It is your burden to make this choice, others may guide you, others may help you, but with a choice like this, it can never be made by other people. You child, must make it yourself."

"But," he added after he allowed that duty to sink in a little more, "if you must thank someone, it was the captain, not I, who came up with this scheme. I suppose I just didn't oppose it."

And a bottle of a hundred-year old Zora wine was not a bad pay off either. Nicholas just hoped that the princess made the right choice…and that he would not come to regret it. _You're putting Hyrule's future in the hands of a girl barely more than sixteen…_

_Gods_, he hoped his intuition hadn't fooled him.

000

**AN: Original moved to profile. **If someone can guess who Nicholas is the ancestor of, you get imaginary Christmas cookies!

Oi, how goes it? Opinions? Thoughts? Commemorative poetry? Dogs barking up a tree? Nic climbed the stairs and bumped his knee? Give me your thoughts if you be mean or nice and I will play a game of dice. ;)


	4. Escape from the Castle

**Escape from the Castle**

Some nights, sleep was as elusive to Zelda as her early childhood memories. Several nights had passed now, where she'd toss and turn until the wee hours of the morning, sleep only catching her off guard once she was too tired to worry. Just like tonight, the same thoughts attacked her. Fear. Uncertainty. The duty that Lord Nicholas Dastery had said was hers. He'd sent the map to her, but it laid quietly on her night stand, untouched. For now, she trembled, despite that her covers were warm. It was too cold in here. Perhaps the fire was too low, again.

Standing, Zelda slid into one of her slippers at the side of her bed. _Where's the other one?_ Throwing aside the quilt on top of the bed, she still didn't find it. She threw aside another blanket. No, still no shoe. Putting her hands on her hips, she huffed in exasperation. Where did she put it _this time_?

"_You constantly put things in the wrong place, Princess_." Dena's words. Her nursemaid always said such things whenever Zelda misplaced something. Zelda forced those thoughts to the back of her mind. She swallowed the lump in her throat, wishing that she didn't always hear Dena's voice whenever she did something the Sheikah would look down upon.

She would never be good enough in Dena's eyes, what was the point of trying?

She shook her head, silencing her doubts for now. Zelda sat down on the carpet by her bed, legs bent back beneath her. Picking up the corner of a blanket with one hand, she threw it aside. Darkness greeted her as she crawled beneath the bed, her stomach slightly touching the floor as she balanced on her forearms. She couldn't see anything under here. Draining a bit of her magical reserves, she summoned a ball of light in front her.

No slipper. Nothing but the cat. Thomas looked at the ball of light, looked back at her, looked at the light. He backed up, hissing. What? That was odd. She knew he wasn't always the most social creature, but he also liked her most of the time. Except that time when she dumped a water spell on him. But she was eight. He'd ruined her favorite dress. It wasn't like a cat was a judge who'd remember your every mistake for time immaterial, so why then was he hissing? Why was there a shadow beside her stretching the wrong way?

"Hey, Zel," said Adrien, making her jump. Head and butt smacked against the bottom of her bed board. Oh, that made sense; Thomas feared Adrien like mice feared the tubby, old cat. He thought Adrien was as bad as a moblin. "What are you doing under there?"

She heard him jump on the bed, hard; making her slump down on her stomach so she wouldn't get hit. Good thing he always did this, at least she knew what to expect. Are _all brothers this annoying?_ She sighed. Why did Adrien have to be so obnoxious?

"Adrien!"

"Huh?" Her bothersome brother wiggled and jiggled the bed some more then bent over the edge, head hanging upside down. His blond hair touched the ornate carpet as he hung there like an idiot, grinning from ear to ear. Thomas scrambled out the other side way. "Still wondering, sis. You know, I hate cleaning out stuff from under the bed, don't know why you think it's so much jolly fun."

"That's why you can't find anything," she reprimanded, then admitted with a sigh, "I'm looking for my slipper."

"It's on your foot," Adrien replied. He lightly poked said foot. "Aren't I helpful? Waiting for a thank you, here."

Zelda glared. Instinctively reaching out to where the cat had been, she threw something fuzzy at Adrien's smug grin. He muttered a curse then picked that thing up showing her its sole. "Umm, I think I found your slipper."

"Adrien..." this time, she growled his name. Slinking out under the bed, she snatched it from him and bopped him on the head with it. That served him right. He moaned in response, then rolled off the bed, sitting on the floor beside her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, now sitting with stretched out before her on the floor. She bent forward and wiggled her slipper onto her bare foot. "It's past your bedtime."

"I didn't know you were my mother," his tone said annoyed, but he smiled just the same, "if you must know, I couldn't sleep either."

She tilted her head. "Either?"

"Don't give me that, I know how you are, a worrier fighting a war." She rolled her eyes. He jabbed her lightly in the arm. "It's true, though."

"That doesn't explain why you weren't sleeping," she said, bringing her thighs up to her stomach. "What, are you just gamboling around the palace at two in the mourning for fun?"

"Gam-bol-ing?"

She sighed. Right, Adrien really could be better read. His vocabulary was rather lacking. "Frolicking?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Goddesses!" she said in exasperation, raising her hands, "when was the last time you opened a book!"

"Ummm, well…" He scratched the back of his head, looking aside. "I sometimes read the ones old man Nicholas makes me read."

She smacked his arm.

"Hey!" His checks were now as red as two apples. "Learning to fight, courting 'nd drinking are much more important than dirty ol—"

"What is that?"

Heavy footsteps resounded outside.

"Father, maybe?"

"Brother."

They were getting louder, closer. It sounded like a man wearing a full set of armor.

"A...knight?

The door slammed opened. It was not a man who charged in, but a strange creature dressed in a full suit of armor. The only thing missing was its helmet. It had a small head, two long, pointed ears, and a short muzzle. Adrien jumped, but got to his feet, standing in a trembling crouch in front of his sister.

"You won't touch her," he said, voice shaking. He rolled his hands into fists, bringing them up to his chest. "Don't you dare."

Zelda crawled backwards, readying to flee. She knew she couldn't fight it. She knew her magic wouldn't scorch it. He wouldn't expect her to help, right? Her heart pounded out an erratic drum beat so loud she swore that both Adrien and the wolf-like Darknut must've heard it.

_Goddesses, it's…it really is a Darknut_. _Where did it come from? Why didn't we hear anything before now? How did it get in?_

It glared at her with blood red eyes. The monster sniffed the air, smelling her fear. She backed up against her wall. _Oh gods..._

Suddenly, it howled in pain. Its armor fell off, clinging against the stone floor. A broadsword sliced off its head, and its beheaded body toppled over after being kicked down from behind. After kicking the bloodied corpse aside, Captain Vince stepped into her bedroom, broadsword in both hands. Two guards walked in after him, each carrying a short sword in one hand and a lit torch in the other. All their blades were covered in dark green…blood.

"Vince!" Adrien said, hands falling to his side. "I thought I'd have to wrestle with that thing."

The captain shoulders slumped a little in relief, but whatever else he felt, fear or concern, Zelda couldn't tell. "You should have fled."

"I couldn't let it get my sister." Adrien folded his arms across his chest, giving Vince his best 'brave' grin. It hardly amounted to a smile. "She…she's the princess."

"You're the _prince_."

Adrien shrugged in response. "Not the heir, though."

"Certainly you would've beaten it into submission with your bare hands," Vince replied, _while it was wearing armor_, went unsaid. Hanging in the air, like the strange smoke that now arose from the creature's corpse.

Adrien nodded then paused, looking thoughtful. Zelda shook her head, how could he be so dense?

"Thank you," her brother said, "but what the _hell_ is going on? Was that a moblin?"

"It's a Darknut," Zelda said, now standing up.

"Lord Captain," she began, her voice small, "what is a Darknut doing in the Hyrule Castle?"

"For now, it doesn't matter." He tossed the broad sword to the side, hand on the blade he kept beneath his well-fitted, thigh-length long coat.

Like most of the knights, his coat was just as good as a full suit of armor, but many times more expensive. It had been made from the finest wool then three spells had been sewed into it: one spell for protection, another for flexibility, and one last incantation for permanence. A Crafted coat like that cost a lofty sum, and as Lord Captain of the Guards, he would have more than just one. His leather gloves, pants, and knee high boats were probably Crafted too, all at the kingdom's expense.

Lord Dastery would say such things were too expensive. She usually would agree. At the moment though, she felt grateful they had indeed invested in them.

"We head to the sewers." Vince turned, expecting them to follow.

"Don't I get a sword?" asked Adrien.

"No."

"But what if—"

Vince frowned in response. It made Adrien shuffle his feet.

"_Adrien_, be quiet, we need to go," Zelda said, but before she left, she made sure to grab Lord Dastery's map off her nightstand, putting it in the satchel she quickly tied around her waist. She had a feeling they would not be coming back.

The group of five did not talk as they trundled through the dark hallways, lit only by eerie moonlight and the torches carried by the two guards. These guards had fallen behind the royal siblings, keeping watch for any monsters that might spring on them from a crisscrossing hallway or door. Perhaps one could leap out of the shadows, or from the ceiling. Zelda didn't know. Her bare arms felt cold; the tips of her fingers frozen despite that she rolled her hands into tight fists. She crossed her arms over her breasts, hearing her erratic heartbeat against her palm.

_Is father alright? _She wondered as Vince told them to stop with a silent glance and a held up palm. He pressed a finger to his lips. A moment later, she heard the soft _tap tap tap_ of small, pattering feet against stone. Shaking visibly, Adrien placed an arm around her shoulder, holding her close. Perhaps it would've been comforting if he wasn't trembling even worse than she.

"What…?" Adrien's voice filled the dark hallway, too loud for this night.

The captain shook his head. That silenced the prince.

In the darkness, something chanted. Captain Vince glanced back over his shoulder, and turned, sword at the ready. In the moonlit patches of hallway, she could make out long shadows carrying pitch forks, creeping towards them through the darkness. Zelda reached for the knife she always kept at her side, uncertain what she could do, but biting her lip even as her hand quivered.

Three of the monsters tackled one of the guards from behind.

The other panicked, dropping his torch, revealing a small, demonic being carrying a pitchfork. He, however, regained his courage, and slit its throat. His companion wasn't so lucky, but even so, she soon gained her bearings, smashing her knee against one of the creatures, and ramming the butt of her sword into another one's eye, making it scream.

That set off a chorus of song. Vince swore; taking three of the small demons with his blade as more of the demons jumped down from the rafters above them and slid from the shadows. One landed on top of Adrien's head, almost stabbing his face, but the prince's erratic dance spun it around until it threw against an unlit candelabrum on the wall. It slid down the wall, landing on its stomach. It stood. Smirking, the demon opened its mouth, showing a mouth filled with sharp teeth and two larger fangs. Adrien scrambled backward, tripping over a discarded pitchfork, landing on his back.

The demon leaped forward, jaws hinged open, ready to bite. Adrien closed his eyes.

A ball of flame leaped from Zelda's hands, slamming into the demon and consuming it before it reached her brother. She offered him a hand, and pulled Adrien to his feet.

"Here," she handed him her knife. He clenched the short blade in his hand, still shaking. Adrien cowered behind her. She wasn't sure what to make of this, but she didn't say more. The battle raged on, blades, magic, and pitchforks awry in the fray. The last of the monsters were soon discarded, or perhaps, scared off, but by the end, Zelda was out of breath, one of the woman-guard had a bloody gash down her leg, and the other had several cuts and bruises. The princess barely remembered what had happened; only that she had killed another three demons before all was said and done.

The hallway, Zelda thought, was much too silent now without the monsters' strange chanting. Anything could be lurking in the dark or behind any door, but soon, Vince guided them to an oversized portrait of her father as a young, though still large, man. Pushing in a nearby brick, the gears behind the portrait came to life, squealing in the night. Zelda looked over her shoulder, but no shadow moved, no monsters came. They slide passed the entryway. Vince hit a switch with his blade, closing the portrait behind them, and locking them in darkness.

"Princess, do you have enough magic left to light a torch?" The captain asked, maneuvering in the darkness, and grabbing something from off the wall. She didn't know how he could make anything out in here, it didn't make since. If he could use magic he could've applied a simple spell to his eyes with enough preparation, but it was well-known that the Lord Captain of the Guard couldn't even use a simple spell like Din's Fire.

"I think so." He handed her a torch. She closed her eyes, summoning up the last of her magical reserves, forming a picture of the torch on fire in her mind then projecting that image onto the torch before her. It sprung to life, lighting up the small, dingy room behind the portrait. On the wall, she saw two other torches, and on the ground, a few bags filled with supplies. By one of these bags was a short sword in a scabbard and a belt, the Captain handed this to Adrien and took out a bottle from that same bag.

It was filled…with _milk_.

"It should refill your reserves," he said, answering her unspoken question matter-of-factly, and throwing the largest sack over his shoulder. He tossed another to the uninjured guard who had dropped his torch. That man took out a red gel from the bag, no doubt taken from a red chu. He slid this on the other guard's leg, procuring a quiet "thank you" from the young guard's lips.

"Vince," Adrien said, finding his voice again. It, however, took on a nervous tremor. "Is…what are those things?"

"We don't know," he answered, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. While Zelda still found his face difficult to read, this alone revealed just how exhausted the captain was, he shrugged. "Call them miniblins if you must."

"They don't look like a member of the goblin species," Zelda responded, but soon wish she could've taken her words back. Captain Vince sighed. "What happened here?"

That question enlisted silence from him and the two guards. The guards looked at each other; the young woman looked down, studying her gauntleted hands. The other chewed on his lips, removing his helmet from his head and putting it under his arm. He whipped his head with a clean cloth from the bag, but his eyes remained on the captain, whom had not yet opened them.

"The Castle's been taken, princess," the captain finally answered, deciding not to mince words, there was no gentle way to say such a harsh truth, "whatever you saw is already coming to pass."

"But…, I was _older_ in my vision. Stronger. This can't have happened, yet!"

Vince did not respond.

"This scroll," she said, taking the map from the small satchel at her waist. "It's...Dastery's..."

"Keep-"

"There's no guarantee that I won't get hurt or lost or something in the sewer, Captain," she said, "everything's already gone _wrong_."

"I understand," he said, accepting the map. He put it in one of the brown sacks in the storage room.

"My father, is he…?"

"Daphnes was safe the last I saw him," the captain answered, though he did not reveal how long ago that had been, "he ordered us to find you and get you out of here, princess, and that is what we intend to do. A lot of my guards have already died, but many are still fighting as we speak. The king is barricaded in the throne room with three dozen guards, a handful of knights, and Lord Dastery and the other mages of the Court…"

"But there's _hundreds_ of guards. Over a thousand! Almost two!" Adrien said, "where are they?"

"How much more obvious do I have to make it?" Vince snapped, baring his teeth.

Adrien backed down, bowing his head. He looked aside. "I'm…sorry."

"Most are dead," answered the young woman, "prince, most of my friends died tonight so we could save your damn, stupid spineless ass."

Adrien did not answer, but glanced at Zelda. "It's…it's alright," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, her gut felt like it was full of lead. She didn't believe her own words. "Listen, it's not…it's not like I am braver than you."

"On the contrary," said the older guard, "for someone who's never seen combat, you fought pretty well I thought."

Blood rushed to her cheeks. "Oh, ummm, I…"

"Not everyone need be brave, son," he said, "but despite this, you stood up to that Darknut without flinching, that takes some guts. Right, Lyn?"

He nudged Lyn in the arm with his elbow, a lopsided grin on his face. His sparkling, hazel eyes were lined, and his ginger hair had a few gray strands amongst his uneven bangs and speckling his beard. He was a handsome fellow for his age, despite the large scar striking across his face, or perhaps it was just the surprisingly white teeth and sparkling hazel eyes.

"Sergeant," she responded, pushing aside his elbow, "he's a dastardly loon. Goes around hosting parties in the main bloody ballroom at the drop of a Deku Nut, making love to women and men, racing chariots in the country or through the city streets, bar fights, stealing, and even baking cookies in the kitchen in the middle of the night."

"Wait, how the hell do you know about that last one?" Adrien asked. Zelda raised an eyebrow. She knew about his multiple forays amongst the women of the court, but did the fact that he only reacted to that last jab mean he _was_ sleeping with men too? It was Adrien, he flirted with everyone.

"Word gets around, prince," she answered, flexing her leg, the cut was still red and still oozing a little blood, but it had shrunk considerably since the miniblin-attack. "Sir, it's about as healed as it will get I think, better to wrap it up and get going. Don't want to stay in those damn sewers long."

Adrien nodded. "Nor do I. I mean, they probably stink."

"Coward."

His shoulders slumped. Zelda rubbed her brother's back, but did not try to encourage him. At moments like this, she was never quite sure what to say. Instead, Captain Vince coughed, causing all eyes to shift to him. "Lynnae, you don't need to like him, but he is _your_ prince, respect the rank if you can't respect the man."

She nodded, but bit her check.

"And remove your helmet. The armor stays here."

The two guards exchanged a glance. A movement later, both nodded, removing their plate. When the sergeant started to remove his chainmail, Zelda closed her eyes at the site of his hairy chest. _Did not need to see that_. She felt herself blush, and twisted the cloth of her nightgown…oh _goddesses_, she was still in that. And it was ripped and torn in some awkward places. Her checks burned.

"Close your eyes, princeling," Lyn said, "No, don't open your—I'll be quiet, captain."

He sighed. "Adrien, would you…?"

"Oh, fine," he said, then whispered in Zelda's ear, "it's not that there's much to see."

"Don't think I don't get what you just said!" A moment later, Zelda heard Lyn slap him. Hard. Zelda's eyes snapped open. "Dainty."

"Ow." Adrien rubbed his cheek. He'd get a bruise from this, that was certain.

"Aye, you should watch your tongue 'round her, son."

"Yeah…," Adrien muttered. He looked up at Vince, begging for help with his pouty expression. "Aren't you going to tell her to stop?"

"No," he replied.

"But…"

Vince smiled a little, but did not answer.

Zelda giggled. Lyn had slipped into a dull, red blouse and a pair of tan slacks, the belt around her waist held a musketoon and a knife. A money bag also hung there, though like most Hylian wallets it would've been Crafted to hold a few hundred rupees despite its small size. Each of those opened to a small portal to a miniature realm made to hold a certain amount of money. Item bags and even sacks like these did much the same thing. However, one needed to know what was _in_ the sack to pull anything out of that sack.

"You might want this, princess," Lyn said, handing her a brown coat. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen, but she supposed it would have to do. The large garment fell pass her knees, entombing her inside beneath layers of thick, brown wool. _I won't have to worry about being cold, at least. Or improper… Just hot. Great_. Adrien also wore brown, but at least the coat fit him. She inwardly sighed. "It's…rather big."

"Yup," Lyn replied with a shrug.

"And, well…"

"Oh, don't worry, lassie, once we're out of here and on the road, you won't have to wear that. Well, that is, once we get to a town, I guess," said the sergeant, "do we have a tent in there?"

Lyn frowned then took out a corner of beige fabric and showed it to him. "Yes, it looks like it."

"Oh good, it's been months since we packed them things," he said, shrugging one of the bags onto his shoulder. Lyn followed suit after wrapping a binding her leg with a large, cloth bandage. "Looks like you might get out of that thing before the dawns first light, well…"

"The sewers are not that bad, Josephus," Vince said, joining his two guards.

"I've heard the stories, Cap't."

"Of course, and stories do not lie," any other man would have rolled his eyes, Vince said that matter-of-factly, readjusting his sword.

"Aye, Vince, there be ghosts and poes down there, they say," said Josephus. Zelda shivered. Adrien paled. "Other things too, if you get lost in deep places, or go the wrong. And on a night like this, you know, maybe it doesn't matter what way you go."

"Like Wizzrobes. Redeads. Deadhands. The kind of things that people say don't exist, but actually do," Lyn said, then added, "and mice."

"Mice aren't scary," Adrien replied.

Lyn glowered, Adrien took a step back. She smirked, having won that fight. "That's what you think, princeling. _Giant mice._"

"Giant?"

"With razor sharp teeth. Poisonous bites."

"I…" he bit his lips, "I...take it back! Mice are scary as hell."

"Is any of that true?" Zelda asked, peering up at the captain.

He stood there for a moment then laughed, once. "No, these are just the kind of stories the guards like to pass around, but…"

"There _is_ something then?"

He nodded. "Every story has a fragment of truth in it," he said, "just pray we don't undercover what lurks below."

A/N: I know, they didn't hear the attack! That's not a mistake, there's a good reason for it…but you know, _spoilers_.

Please leave a review, thanks!


	5. What Lurks Below

**Part Five: **What Lurks Below

000

It was dark. It was dank. It certainly stank. What else should he have expected from a sewer? Yet, much to Adrien's surprise, it stank more like a mix of mud and rainwater than rancid sewage. It smelled like a river after a storm, just more damp and cold.

Adrien shivered. Surely it's just this place, he thought, and not the dark. I'm not afraid. That wasn't true. He knew it wasn't. Even with the familiar weight of a lightsaber hanging from his belt, he didn't feel safe. Footsteps echoed against the raised, stone walkways on either side of the underground canal where water flowed downhill, and down the arched, brick tunnels. Something, mice perhaps, or another kind of rodent, pattered somewhere in the dark, but never came close enough to the still-bright lanterns Zelda had lit. One was held by Josephus, who walked in the rear of their small group, and the other by Vince, who guided them through the sewers, a hand on his lightsaber at all times, poised to attack if anything was indeed lurking in the dark tunnels beneath the castle.

Adrien wished he could've been that brave. He always boasted about his courage, picking fights at bars and challenging nobles and knights to duels to show off his valor, but in this dark, dreary place and against those creatures… He sighed, clutching the hilt of his lightsaber so tight his hand hurt.

"Don't you think it's odd," Zeldawhispered, placing a hand on his arm and giving it a gentle squeeze, "we never heard the army attack the castle."

He glanced at her for a moment. "It was pouring bloody cats and wolfos earlier."

"Not all night long, though. It finished by the time you came into my room," Zelda said. She folded her arms across her chest, hiding them inside the over-sized brown coat. For a while, they walked on in silence, only the sound of running water, footsteps, and a soft _drip_ _drip_ _drip_ reaching his ears. Without turning her head, Zelda lowered her voice, "It should have been impossible for us not to notice a siege, someone or something didn't want us to know about, Adrien."

"Aren't you jumping to conclusions?" Adrien asked. The light from the lanterns grew dimmer - no, he must've been seeing things. He couldn't believe his sister was suggesting this. "It's like you think they're leading us into a trap."

She bit her lips. Gods, that's what she thought this was? No wonder she was whispering. But he knew Captain Vince, there was no way it could be one. That man was as loyal to the crown as a good wolfhound was to its shepherd.

_But you were wrong about being able to protect her too._ He thought, glancing wearily at Vince. The man didn't notice, instead, creeping along like some assassin in the darkness. _What makes you think you can judge a man's fidelity?_

"I didn't mean…well, yes, maybe he is," Zelda sputtered, holding her face in one hand then looked aside, "it's just—did you touch my shoulder?"

"No..." Ice gripped his stomach. Adrien turned around, putting his hand on his sword. It was dark…_too _dark. That country bumpkin—Josephus—had been right behind them, carrying the other lantern.

"Josephus?" Adrien asked, withdrawing his sword and falling into a defensive crouch. Following his lead, the others turned, too. Vince and Lyn joined him, swords at the ready. Unlike his, theirs did not visibly shake in their hands. He could only wish he could his blade so steady. Showering the darkness behind them with light from his lantern, Vince glanced from side to side. In the dim light, there was no sign of the graying ginger.

Where was he? Had he gotten lost? Gone down one of the crisscrossing tunnels by mistake?

No, Adrien realized, those weren't the right questions. _What_ had _taken_ _him?_

Adrien swallowed, legs shaking. _Dear gods, when Vince said something lurked down here…_

Zelda screamed. The others spun. Lantern light showed the violet hand that held her hair in a vice-like grip, her legs dangling several feet above the stone walkway. Zelda was only a few feet from him, but it was like he was caught in some kind of spell. Adrien's couldn't move, feet frozen, heart pounding in his ears. Vince ran pass him, swinging his sword in a short, precise arch, aiming to dismantle the creatures long arm. Before Vince could cut her free, however, it pulled her down into its pool, disappearing.

Adrien ran to the spot where the hand had been, falling to his knees. There was no sign of the hand, no sign of his sister. Not even a hint of magical residue from the strange, dark creature that had taken her. He bowed his head, resigned.

_I can't keep her safe._ _I can't protect her._

_I'm useless_.

"Zel…?" he said, "oh gods."

"Get up, princeling," Lyn said, "if we stay here, that thing might get us too."

"I'll wait for it, what's the point? It's not like—" Someone grabbed him by the back of his coat, yanking him to his feet. He struggled, but stopped. Maybe the hand had gotten him, too.

It punched him in the stomach. Nope, it was Lyn, he realized, not the hand.

"Lyn, let him go," Vince said, "It won't be coming back."

She put him down, but kept one hand on his coat. One raised eyebrow from Vince later, and she finally let him go.

"H…how…do you know…that?" Adrien asked between wheezes, holding his stomach. Lyn punched harder than most men. He looked at Vince. At the moment, Adrien couldn't read him. He face was hard, his grey eyes like stone. Perhaps Zelda was right. Perhaps they were working for whoever had sent that army of monsters.

Perhaps this was all a trap.

"It hasn't come back." Vince slid his blade into his scabbard. "Floor masters only leave once they take the person they were sent to locate."

"Captain…how do you know that?" Lyn asked, there was a faint tremor in the woman's voice. A part of Adrien was relieved that she was afraid, the rest, though, found that even more frightening. Lyn was strong, she was brave, and…only a year older than him at most, Adrien realized. He'd thought she was a seasoned warrior, like Vince and Josephus. _Damn_._ This might be…is this her first assignment?_

Why would father send a rookie to protect them? _Who exactly is she?_

"When I was stationed in the north," Vince answered, "we once came across one of these monsters while guarding an ambassador and her carriage, a wizzrobe sent it."

"Did you find her?" Lyn asked.

"Not until it…yes, we did," Vince answered, but turned away, heading deeper into the sewers. He gestured for them to follow. "We shouldn't linger here, however."

That was comforting. Adrien shivered. Looking at the walls as they passed. Mold and moss clung to them, sometimes he spotted the top of a mushroom or a large insect scurrying into a hole. Despite passing several tunnels, they never turned down any, still heading downhill as they had when they had all night. 

"So, we're looking for her," Adrien asked, breaking the silence, "Right?"

"No," Vince answered.

"She's my sister," Adrien said, eyes burning, as tears sprung to them unbidden, "We can't just let them take Zelda and—"

"Adrien, she might be anywhere down here, but she is not dead," Vince stopped, placing a hand on the Adrien's shoulder. "But neither I, nor Lyn, or you can help her right now. We've been fighting all night, kid, if we comb this place for her, we'd only end up lost, and perhaps, dead. The king commanded us to protect you both, not just the princess."

"I…" Adrien sniffled. "I…"

"Hey, Sergeant Josephus is bloody good at getting out of a tight spot," Lyn said, "Let me tell ya, princeling, he once killed a whole army of lizalfos with a slingshot and water magic… Hell, I bet they'll be out of here even before we are…"

That…was as close to a promise as they could give, Adrien knew. He just hoped Josephus would be enough.

000

Zelda slowly came to, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness around her. A lantern—Josephus' lantern—lit the small space, revealing that they were in a cage. Thick bars lined the front, while the other three walls were made of old bricks, covered in patchy, black mold. In one of the corners, a strange purple vine grew; small white flowers open despite the lack of sunlight.

_How can a plant like that grow in a place like this?_

"If ya're wondering where we ended up," Josephus began, making Zelda jump a little, "I don't damn well know, milady."

She smiled a little. He had quite an…interesting way with words. Josephus sat on the floor, legs stretched out before him, still wearing his sword. Whatever had caught them didn't seem to care if they had weapons. Nor, she noticed, had it put them in chains.

_It is only a hand. _Zelda got into a sitting position, pulling her legs against her stomach. "It's cold though, and damp."

"Oh, yeah, noticed that, I did," he said, "it's wetter than my grandma's armpit."

Zelda blinked. That was an unusual comparison. She wasn't sure what to make of that.

"This may still be the sewers," she said, looking at the barred door in front of them.

It had a latch on it, but, it was unlocked. Zelda frowned, then stood up and approached the door. A moment later, the hand sprung out of the ground. It faced her. A strange ethereal glow surrounded it, giving it a purple sheen. The hand, itself, however, was made of the same black matter as the portal beneath it.

"Oh." Zelda lifted a hand to her face chin in thought.

"Yeah, it does that." Josephus shrugged, taking out a cigar from his bag.

_Of all things, he's going to smoke now? Doesn't he realize how bad those things are for his lungs?_

Josephus opened the protected lantern, and lit the cigar using the magical flame. "Had to check it myself, ya know," he placed the cigar in his mouth, chewing on the stim, "That damn thing's smart for a bloody hand."

She folded her arms, tilting her head.

"Well, it is," he said, "Knows the latch don't work so it stands in front of the door waiting to getcha and throw you back in here if ya try and escape."

"It has no eyes."

"Eh, yeah, it's blinder than a Keese." He pulled the cigar out of his mouth, releasing a stream of smoke into the air. "Guess we have to wait 'nd see whatever caught us."

Zelda stepped a few feet back, it disappeared. She nodded, an idea forming in her head. Grabbing the lantern by his knee, she flung it at the door. The hand popped up again, wiggling its fingers.

"It can't see. It has no ears so most likely it can't hear us speak either," she said, "but it can feel heat. Much better than you or me." She swiveled on one foot, facing him. "Did you pack any bombs?"

"Sure did, part of the emergency kit in case we ever had to leave the castle with some royal kids in toll." Josephus laughed, "Wait, you want me to? Damn, girl, you're brighter than ol' Jo."

He pulled bomb out of the sack, and lit it using the lantern. A few moments later, he threw the door open, dropping the bomb where the lantern had been. The hand popped out of the ground, picked up the bomb, but despite what Zelda expected, it tried to throw the bomb back into the cage.

Josephus took a step back, then jump on top of her, protecting her from the blast. The bomb exploded, bombarding her ears. A moment later, Zelda peered out from under the guard, witnessing the hand, arm, and portal dissipated into black smoke.

Her shoulders slumped. Tapping the old guard's arm, she pointed, motioning him to turn around.

He nodded, threw back his head, and laughed. Zelda could barely hear it.

"My hearing," she said, finding her voice was even softer than normal. He did not respond. Then, she shouted, "Josephus, I can't hear!"

"Aye," he said, though, she was sure he was shouting from the tone of his voice, "getting a bomb blown up so damn close is bound to make you a bit hard of hearing for a bit, lassie."

"It is?"

"Indeed. You know, I'm half deaf anyway, though," he shook his head as he spoke, displaying his lopsided grin, "what do you say, milady, ta getting out of here before whatever sent that thing comes to get its prize, eh?"

She nodded, stood, and left the cage behind, Josephus in tow, carrying the lantern. Outside, they stood in a tunnel much like the ones Captain Vince had led them through that night. Unlike those ones, however, this passage was lined with rusted cages on either side of the small canal that ran between the two raised walkways. Next to each cell was a torch, illuminating the cage in an eerie, blue light. Unnatural. Cold. A chill washed over her, making her shiver.

Why was there a dungeon in the sewers?

Somewhere behind her, something moaned.

Josephus placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, stopping her from jumping. She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. After a few moments he glanced over his shoulder. He gave her a slight nod, pointing towards something in the darkness behind them.

A covered lantern danced above the ground held by no hands, no pole, no strings attached. It emitted too little light. Then, he motioned again, steering her eyes down the other walkway. Next to each cage, a faint lantern patrolled nearby, watching, waiting.

Where was their watchman? Had it been caught in that blast?

_Clink_, _tink_.

Zelda's spine grew stiff at that sound.

_Tink_, _clink_. Cold spread from up her back, then to her finger tips.

_Tink_. Oh gods.

She snuck a look past him. Nothing. Not even a lantern. She sighed, closing her eyes in relief.

_Clink_. Behind her again. She turned, and screamed.

A white ghost riding a scythe charged at them. Josephus blocked the thing's first attack wielding scabbard in one hand, and sword in the other. Not to be out done, it smiled, showing a wealth of pointed teeth.

"He he he."

Its cackle woke the other poes. Some of the ghosts were red, others blue, and a few were white. They rode on broomsticks. They rode on polearms. Others flew on scythes like the first. In a split second, the specters vanished.

Then reappeared in a circle around them. They were surrounded by poes on every side. The ghosts charged, readying their weapons to strike a killing blow.

Zelda shut her eyes. Heart ramming inside her chest. She would never see Adrien or father again. She would never see Dena, or Thomas the cat. Dead, forgotten, her body in the sewers where no one could find her.

Before they hit, Josephus grabbed her waist and covered her mouth with his free hand. He dove into the canal beside them, forcing her below the surface. Josephus pushed off the side of the canal, sending them down the river and charging down it as though propelled by magic. Underwater, she heard a muffled slash, as the poes collided, screeching in anger as their prey escaped.

Her feet didn't touch the bottom. Kicking, screaming, breathing in slush; the water pushed them downstream, away from the cages and their ghostly patrol. Finally, he let her take a breath of air. Stink-filled air. She was sure the water was better for her lungs.

"Why…why?"

"Ya think we could've taken that army of poes, lass?" Josephus asked, guiding her to a nearby ledge. After getting on it himself, he dragged her, her coat, and a lump of sewage up onto the ledge. Safe on land, she went down on her hands and knees, hacking up a greenish-grey mixture of her last meal and slush. She took a breath, turned her head, and vomited twice more. "There had to be at least a bloody dozen of those damn things."

She nodded, slowly sitting back against the earthen wall. 

Goddesses, she could still taste it.

"Are…are they?"

"Don't think so. Poes are stupid. Don't understand that livin' things that go under water usually float up again." He gave her that lopsided grin of his. "See, lass, old Jo can get things right some of the time, eh?"

"You…jesting." She felt a small amount of vile rise to the back of her throat. Zelda swallowed it back down. Feeling like death boiled over was not a present feeling, but…it was better than being dead. _Probably_. "Correct?"

He shrugged, grin breaking out into a toothy smile. He was missing a few teeth in the bottom row, she realized. His smile wasn't as perfect as she first thought, illuminated by a patch of red sunlight streaming through the entrance of cavern.

Sunlight? She blinked, that beautiful, bright warmth poured on her face, vanishing her sickness and exhaustion for the moment. Cavern? She gasped, slowly climbing to her feet.

It was day. Poes didn't come out at day.

"I think we're safe," she said. Zelda leaned against the entrance of the cave, a broad smile on her face. A gust blew past her, but it was unable to pick up the edges of the slim leaden coat she still wore. The breeze carried with it the smells of spring, the stink still rising from the river of slime and sewage running beside. In the distance, it flowed past a strange building on top of a hill. That building had both a wheel and a tall, brick tower. She did not know what it could be for. Past that, the river flowed on, but was soon hidden behind the hills, tall grasses, and wildflowers of the fields.

Josephus joined her. "You see that," he asked, pointing at the building, "it's one of them new fancy dancy water treatin' things. They Crafted a wheel of gold and put some kind…"

She slumped against him, exhausted. "Right. Don't wanna stay here either."

Without her permission, Josephus picked her up, leaning her against his shoulder. She wasn't sure how long they traveled, only, that at one point, Josephus lifted her above his head as he waded across the river. Soon, dawn turned to early morning, and she smelled something other than sewage. _Smoke_, she thought, through her half-awake haze, _a fire?_

Zelda opened her eyes, they were cresting a hill near the riverbank. In the valley below, she spotted a sparse copse of pine and maple trees. Within it, three people had set up camp. As they approach, Zelda smiled, it was Adrien, Lyn, and Captain Vince. They'd made it out too. Adrien and Lyn laid on the ground, her brother wrapped in a ball inside his bedroll. Lyn slept in a straight line, her back to the fire.

Unlike the two youths, Captain Vince sat on a log, a worn brown cloak on his shoulder. He had put his Crafted coat in his bag, she supposed, exchanging it for a shirt that was a bit too tight around the waist and a pair of pants which were a little short for his long legs. In one hand, he held a book, and used the other to turn the page, a pair of spectacles on his nose.

_He's older than I thought_, she had originally pegged him as in his mid to late thirties, perhaps forty at most. Of course, the first time she had meant him, Zelda had been a little girl, more than ten years ago. Even before Josephus reached the campsite, the captain closed his book, sliding the spectacles into a pocket inside his cloak. _Interesting._

"I see you've gone deaf and blind, eh Cap?"

"Close your mouth, Josephus. You were standing on top of that hill." Vince pointed to the hill behind them that they had just climbed down. "Perhaps a little retraining in stealth may be in order..."

Josephus' mouth audibly clamped shut…for a moment.

"Those look awful," Josephus said, if he wasn't carrying her, he would've gestured at Vince's clothes, "gained a few pounds since you last wore that shirt, eh?"

"Does a man dressed in slime have any right to criticized someone else's taste in attire?" Vince asked, the corners of his mouth bending upwards. "These are _yours_, however. You're holding my bag."

"I…I am?" Josephus looked at the sack strapped on his shoulder, chuckling. He had managed to hold on to that bag the whole time they were fleeing, _that's more than a little impressive._

"This one," Vince picked up the sack near his legs, "doesn't have my cigars, _or_ my clothes, it did have an old pair of spectacles though and a health book," he answered, Zelda frowned, how could they tell the bags apart? They all looked alike to her when they took them from that secret storage room, wouldn't they be packed with basically the same things? Then again, it had been dark. "Trying to save my lungs again? Perhaps make sure I don't eat salted pork? Was it your idea or Lynnae's? Bernard's? Teah's"

"Eh, they're damn good cigars," replied the guard, shrugging, "got us out of a mighty bad jam. There were poes, wizzrobes, stalfos, a couple a' redead, even a of few bloody lizardfos."

"Those live in _hot_ areas," Vince replied. "Volcanoes, deserts…"

"Not _these_ ones," Josephus said, "like bloody blue fire keese, only not. As I was saying…"

"Josephus, I am sure my daughter will enjoy your tall tales more than I." Vince's eyes strayed to young woman lying by the fire. A groan escaped her lips, and then she muttered, something along the lines of 'five more minutes or I'll deck your face.' That black hair, the same curls, their similar noses, and other, small details pointed to their relationship. Zelda now realized she should have put two-and-two together, but in the chaos last night, her brain simply had not. "How is the princess?"

"I think she's sick—"

"I'm...alrigh'," she answered, weakly. _That_, she decided, _probably only serves to prove that Josephus correct._

"—sir," Josephus finished, readjusting her weight. "We ended up in the damn sewers, not the storm drain. Apparently someone put a whole, damn dungeon in the place, even had poe guards. We had to dive into the sewage to get outta that hellhole."

"You were captured by _it_, then," he said, then added: "Thank you, Sergeant."

Vince stood and walked over to Lyn. He rubbed her hair. The young woman grabbed his hand, glaring up at him as Vince smiled, gently. He said somethings, but Zelda could not make them out above the ringing in her ears.

"I…didn't know he had children."

"Yup," Josephus confirmed, "Cap's a private man, only had one though. Never liked it that Lyn followed him and joined the guard."

She nodded. By the gods, she was tired. Sick, too. Josephus was right.

"It's not even ten!" Adrien shouted. They both turned to him. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet. "I don't get up 'til—"

"This isn't the castle," Vince replied, "Lynnae?"

The young woman's dark eyes turned blue. A moment later, _water_ fell from a small cloud onto the prince. He coughed, then gasped. Adrien sat up straight, eyes wide. "What in…Zelda?"

She looked at him, raising a hand, too weak to speak. "Is she…" Adrien looked up at Vince.

The captain nodded. "Lyn clean her up, give her a fairy, there should be one in my bag. We're head to the nearest village once she wakes up, then buy a couch and head to Ordon."

"Vince?"

He turned to Josephus, knitting his brow.

"A fairy might not work," he said, "well, it will _help_, but it isn't strong enough magic rid her of an illness…well, _poison _like this."

Vince swore, but nodded.

"We'll head to Kakariko then." He sighed. "And pay the Blue Shaman a visit."

000

(**A/N: **Game =/ Story mechanics! I have no intention of keeping her a sick girl for that long…probably. I don't like angst.) :P 


End file.

Legend of Zelda, Adventure, Fantasy