Legend of Zelda 1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own everything in this story except the stuff out of the Legend of Zelda, which is owned by the giant, impersonal Nintendo corporation. They allow people like me to exist as long as we pay them proper tribute in the form of disclaimers. My debt is paid.

Anyway, I started writing this story when I was in Grade 9, so you may notice that the opening chapters are a little rough. I understand this and I hope you will read and enjoy anyway. The writing does get better, and will continue to get better as I age and mature and all that jazz. Although how much it actually has improved from this point is really a matter of opinion. :-)

Thank you for reading,

Celeborn00

Chapter: Prologue

Crouching, Demon circled his opponent, twisted serpentine knives seeking an opening in the Gerudo's defences. The crowd screamed for blood, shouting his name to the heavens. "Demon! Demon!" throbbing through the arena like a physical presence, wrapping the warrior in their blood-lust.

The black rags that Demon had wrapped himself in fluttered raggedly in the wind, giving him an aura of darkness. His cape added to the impression, framing his muscular body on a background of black satin. He almost seemed like the child of darkness the crowd had named him, an avenging spirit from beyond the grave. Even Demon's eyes held no comfort, the ice blue flecked with steel. Deep in the hazy landscape darkness smouldered seeming to pull the warmth from the very air around him. He looked every inch a god of death, ready to do battle.

Demon and the Gerudo still circled, seeking a gap in the others defences. The female warrior had her twin scimitars raised warily, tensed for blood and action. Demon growled, the flames in his eyes hotter than the hell in which they duelled. Clearly unnerved by his appearance the woman shifted warily. _Fool_, contemplated Demon, _to be intimidated so easily_.

The glaring sun beat down on the two contestants as they circled, the sandy floor of the arena hot as flames beneath their feet. The Gerudo was already sweating heavily, either from fear, the heat or a mixture of both. Despite his heavy black cape, Demon did not feel the heat. All his awareness was concentrated on his opponent.

Patience at an end the Gerudo lunged forward, leaping into the air and bring both blades forward in a half-arc. The blades would have decapitated Demon, but when they met with a clash his neck was no longer in-between. The warrior had dived forward into a spinning roll, landing on his feet.

No emotion registered on his features as his female opponent turned to face him. Bewildered by the speed of his evasion she attacked more cautiously this time, using the time-honoured Gerudo fighting style. Deadly scythes of steel came at Demon from all directions, but not one could touch the black-cloaked warrior. Sliding smoothly out of the way of even the fastest sword-strike he led the Gerudo onward across the ring. Still the crowd chanted, their mantra rising to almost a fever pitch as they called for Demon to shed blood.

Faster and faster the strikes came, enveloping Demon in a sphere of steel. Panting from exertion the woman finally stopped her attack and fell back into her crouch. Demon remained unscathed, his black cloak fluttering around him. No sound came from the black-cloaked form, but the crowd leaned forward expectantly. This is what they had been waiting for.

Wordlessly, Demon raised his knives, and attacked. Spinning under the Gerudo's guard he kicked upward into her wrist sending one of her scimitars flying across the arena. With that he flipped out of reach, falling into a crouch to watch the horrified Gerudo. Shaking visibly, she steeled herself and attacked again, a vertical slash that would have cut Demon in two. Would have. Demon raised one weapon in a careless deflection. With the other he cut through the Gerudo's wrist. Hand and scimitar fell to the ground, covered in blood. The Gerudo women stumbled back cradling her wounded limb.

"What are you!" she screamed, fear written clearly on her face.

For a moment the black-cloaked warrior stiffened, something sparked in his eyes. _Link, Hero of Time._ The spark was quickly smothered in the swirling clouds of darkness.

"Demon" he answered raising his knives.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

She awoke screaming, silk sheets in disarray around her. Golden hair tumbling over her shoulders in knotted tangles. _Blood_, she thought, _blood everywhere_. And that man with the knives... She shuddered and wrapped the sheets more firmly around her. What did they call him again? Demon, that was it. Demon. She could still picture him in her mind, standing over the Gerudo, blood dripping down his blades, just laughing to the heavens. What kind of monster would be able to laugh after killing innocents?

Her maid arrived, awakened by her screams. "Princess!" she cried as she ran into the chamber. "What's wrong!"

"Another dream," Zelda replied, "nothing to worry about"

"Just the same, I'll send for Impa. Nightmares are nothing to laugh at."

Zelda sighed, nodding in agreement grudgingly. Everyone was so protective of her in the castle. Here she was, almost seventeen and the servants still wanted to treat her like an infant. But if the dream happened to be a prophecy... Zelda almost yelped at the thought. Her gift for prophecy in her dreams caused her great pain, but it had also saved the land before. If this 'Demon' was more than a figment of her dreams, he was a threat to Hyrule. Another thing for her to worry about.

Longingly she looked up to the great tapestry that covered one of the walls of her room. It was a gift from her mother before she died, the greatest work of art in the kingdom. Embroidered on its blue expanse were the two great figures of Hylian legend. In the background was the symbol of the Gods, The Triforce, that supposedly gifted the bearer with divine power. In the foreground stood the figure known as the Hero of Time.

He was almost elfin in appearance, a muscular blond-haired young man, wielding a great sword. Nothing about him suggested great power or wisdom, but he seemed to radiate goodness from his person. When she was younger, Zelda had used to confide in the tapestry telling the young man all of her secrets. His comforting presence was a beacon in her chamber, a blinding light for all to see.

A quiet knock on her door disturbed her musing. "Come in" she said more out of habit than necessity. Impa had already walked into the room and stood squarely in the centre of the chamber. Impa was a large imposing woman, one of the last of the ancient sheikah race. It was said that she had lived at the castle for ever, tending every royal child back into time immemorial. Zelda didn't know the truth of that rumour, but she had noticed that the nurse never seemed to age. She was the picture image of the Impa that had played with Zelda as a child and taught her manners as a young lady.

Zelda drew her knees up to her chin and waited for her nurse to speak. She didn't have to wait long.

"What did you see?" questioned Impa, a worried look flitting over her features "What was your dream!"

Zelda was frightened by the amount of emotion in her nurse's voice; she had rarely seen Impa so disturbed.

"Please Impa, don't yell at me. I've had enough frightening for one night."

Face softening, Impa came to sit beside Zelda on her bed. "I'm sorry," she said smoothing the Princess's tangled curls with her hand. "I just get so worried when you dream visions. Especially ones that make you scream."

"You think it really was a vision?" Zelda questioned, doubt evident in her voice. "How can you know without hearing what I dreamed?"

"Some things I just know," sighed Impa turning to face the great tapestry.

"What was your dream child?" she continued, still staring at the tapestry.

Zelda hesitated, tentative to put her nightmare into words. "There were two warriors, fighting in an arena like gladiators. One was a Gerudo woman, wielding the twin scimitars of her race. The other..." she continued, shivering in spite of herself. "The other looked like death itself, dressed entirely in black. The crowd called him Demon." Zelda paused, a far-away look in her eyes "He murdered the Gerudo, laughing while her lifeblood ran from his blades." Zelda curled closer to Impa "It was his eyes that made me scream. There was so much anger in his gaze, so much hurt!"

Impa looked away from the tapestry back to Zelda, draping a comforting arm around the Princess. "An interesting dream," she mused.

"Do you know what it means?" said Zelda cautiously, not sure if she wanted an answer.

"It is difficult to tell," Muttered Impa, looking away suddenly "But I'm sure all will be revealed with time. She switched topics suddenly, "Zelda, what do you know of the Cycle?"

"The Cycle?" asked Zelda, a little confused by the switch in topics. "I know everything you've taught me. Every thousand years or so a great evil appears and takes over Hyrule. When all seems lost the Hero of Time appears and destroys the great evil, usually with the help of the Princess of Destiny. Why do you ask about such an ancient Legend?"

"Legend? It is no legend child," chided Impa gently "It is the cycle which allows for balance and equality in Hyrule."

"Resurrecting a great evil every ten centuries provides balance?" asked Zelda "The death of millions of innocents creates equality?"

"Without evil there can be no good. Without hardships there can be no luxuries. For heroes such as him to be created," Impa continued, gesturing to the portrait of the Hero of Time on the tapestry "There must be an evil to overcome."

"But what happens if the Hero and Princess lose?" questioned Zelda, still sceptical.

"They cannot, for if they did the cycle would be broken and darkness would reign. It would be the end of Love and Hope for the world."

Zelda sat quietly, mulling over that thought. How could the forces of good face such impossible odds again and again? Could the Hero of Time always manage to destroy the great evil? Fervently, she thought a quick prayer to the goddesses, asking them to let good always reign over evil and never let the Cycle be broken.

Impa turned to Zelda. Her stare seeming to pierce into the princess's soul. "It has been almost a thousand years since the last Hero of Time banished evil." Impa said "The dreams you have had in the last few years suggest Hyrule is in danger once more. You know you are the Princess of Destiny" Impa paused to take Zelda's left hand in hers, pushing back the frill of her the lace nightgown to reveal the Triforce symbol. The golden triangle adorned the back of Zelda's hand, glowing faintly.

Zelda pulled her hand away, covering the Triforce once more. "You have said the same since I was but an infant. No evil has manifested itself yet and it does not look like one ever will. Hyrule is in a golden age of knowledge and glory, nothing can diminish it."

"Never-the-less evil is coming." muttered Impa, turning to leave the chamber. Abruptly she stopped stiff and turned to meet Zelda's gaze once more.

"This man you dreamt about, Demon, did you see the back of his left hand?"

"No" said Zelda, puzzlement written on her face "He wore black gauntlets on both

fore-arms. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing" said Impa as she strode swiftly out of the bedchamber.

Zelda sighed, turning her gaze to the tapestry once more. The Hero of Time stared back, so sure of himself and his ability to vanquish evil. He was wearing a light-green tunic with matching cap, a somewhat rustic garb the suited him nicely. The Hero bore only the Master-sword, a fabled weapon that could destroy the strongest evil. It was strapped to his back with the hilt poking up above his right shoulder.

Running her eyes over the Hero, Zelda noticed once again the glowing Triforce symbol on the back of his left hand. It was almost the twin of the one she herself bore. Eyes narrowing, Zelda thought of Impa's final question to her. The back of Demon's left hand. The spot where the Hero of Time bore the Triforce symbol. It must be coincidence. Zelda could not believe that bloodthirsty killer she had dreamed about would have anything to do with Link, Hero of Time. Mulling over that thought the princess drifted back into sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Just so everybody knows, I'm not doing any radical editing or re-writing. I'm correcting grammatical errors, plot problems, and sentences that make me gag, nothing else. I don't have time to do justice to these early chapters, so I'm not gonna try. No matter how much I wish they were written differently. :-)

Chapter 3

Demon walked slowly through the crowded streets, a path opening before him through the throng. Murmurs sped through the crowd as they pushed to get out of his way. "Tis the Demon!" they whispered, an odd mixture of reverence and fear behind the words. Demon did not care, his soul called for vengeance and he could find it in the arenas. Mechanically he walked, drawn like iron to a magnet through the crooked streets of the city. His destination came into sight far ahead, the dull grey walls of the coliseum rising high above the buildings on either side.

The coliseum was a masterpiece of architectural skill and efficiency, perfectly suited for the acts of murder that took place there every day. It could easily seat half of the cities population in its spacious interior and twice that if needed. The richer costumers could obtain their own box seats to view the entertainment from privacy and comfort. Spectators could even bet money on their favourite contestants. Since Demon had never lost, that usually meant him.

The guards let Demon through the towering gates of the coliseum without a word. He was well known by the employees as the prize gladiator of the town. All of the sentries had been given orders to bow his every whim and cater to every fancy. His skill in the arts of death, Demon mused, were the only part of him that people had ever respected.

He brushed through the halls, black cape sweeping out behind him. The sentries moving aside to let him pass through at all points. No words were necessary, he was expected. Demon passed through the final barrier and strode out into the middle of the ring. The arena itself was actually quite small, it's sandy floor stretching to meet the huge wall which kept combatants from escaping into the crowd. Behind him Demon heard the metal gates clang shut, trapping him in the arena. There would be no escape for him or his opponent until death had taken one of them.

Demon let his eyes drift over the man that stood facing him. A heavily muscled murder holding an axe larger than any Demon had every seen. Demon knew this man, at least knew his reputation. He was called "The Bull" by the citizenry, an apt name for the gruesome methods in which he maimed and murdered opponents. Demon felt his rage growing; this man in particular deserved death.

The Bull charged, his face contorting in hatred as he flailed his axe wildly. There would be no circling in this match Demon mused as he stepped deftly aside, no cautious testing of the opponent's skill. The Bull ran right past, barely avoiding crashing into the wall as he skidded to a stop. He turned to face Demon, cords standing out on his arms and neck as he snorted in rage. His eyes full of red fury that overcame his senses, driving him to desert logic and reason in his blind rage. Demon could feel his own white-hot anger rising, driving him in his insatiable quest for blood. He crouched low, knives held to either side and waited...

Demon spat on the bloody heap that had been The Bull. It had almost been too easy to kill him. Child's play to take the breath from his body. Demon's rage was still there, even more compelling after his victory than before. Turning to the stands he addressed the keeper of the arena, a squat middle-aged man who loved the clink of gold. "Send in the next one." Demon growled, wiping his knives on the corpse's clothing. And the next one, and the one after that. There in the arena Demon waged his own private war against the world.

Hours later, Demon finally left the arena, the tendrils of anger beaten back far enough to quell his rage. Sometimes it still scared him how angry he became, but slowly he was becoming desensitized to the cycle of blood and rage that ruled his life. Demon made his way back out of the city and reached the squalid hut he called a home just as darkness fell. The darkness did well to hide him as he moved swiftly through the shadows.

Sleep did not come to him that night, sitting in the darkness outside his ramshackle hut. He rarely slept, preferring the solitude of shadow to the dreams that haunted his rest. Only his fights in the arena allowed him any sort of release for the rage that haunted him, awake or in sleep. He felt no regret for those who died on his blades, pouring out their lives on the ends of his knives. Why should he? They deserved to die, like everyone else in this accursed world. Demon got to his feet shaking with anger, they all should be killed. Every last Goddess-cursed one of them.

Demon strode through the night into the streets of the city. He was revolted by the filth that piled up in every alley. At the droves of beggars that occupied the sidewalks, even at this late hour. They citizens of this Aratian town cared for little beyond food and the daily battles in the arena. Even the uptake of their homes and the care of the needy they ignored. Demon had written them off as worthless slime long ago.

He continued on his way, a shadow flitting through the darkness. Night was the only time Demon felt safe. When he could hide in the darkness and transport himself away from the world which had flung him out. He found his destination, a large run-down building near the outskirts of the city. Entering quietly he found himself in a huge auditorium. It was the only theatre in the entire city and the stories of Love and Courage that were performed here could sometimes let Demon forget. He could lose himself in the heroic tales and forget for a moment who he was. The blood and shadow that was his life.

Surveying the theatre Demon could see why the place looked run-down. Over three-quarters of the seats were empty, giving the theatre a deserted feel that went with Demon's mood. Most of the Aratian townsfolk had no interest in drama or music only in the shedding of blood. Preferably shedding of blood at the hands of their pet Demon. The black-robed warrior shook those thoughts out of his head, he had come here to forget, not review his bloody transgressions. Slowly the curtain rose, music filling the air. It was tune that tingled at Demon's conscience drawing recognition from his mind. A man came on stage, dressed in a tunic of bright green and waving a gaudily painted sword.

"I present to you," the man said striking a heroic pose "The legendary saga of Link, The Hero of Time." He stood there onstage, a dashing figure, the perfect hero from the stories.

In the back row, Demon jumped out of his seat, turned and ran. The name echoed after him. _Link, Hero of Time._ He remembered that name, remembered the pain, terror and triumph that went with it. It was a memory too bitter to escape or forget. He had lost seven years of his life to that name, his childhood gone to earn that title and the destiny that went with it. As Link, Demon had destroyed the great evil the Cycle had predicted. Under the name of Link he had lived the life of the greatest hero the world had ever known. A life that no longer existed, that technically never had.

Demon was still running flying through the streets of the sleeping city. A rabbit flying before the hound. He ran until he fell exhausted onto the cobble-stones of the street, unable to flee from the memories which assailed him. He felt his rage flare up once more as the feeble restraints he had placed on it broke under the strain. He had lost his childhood, name and happiness to save the people of the world. Demon understood they did not remember his deeds; the timeline where he was a hero was gone. He had just wanted to be accepted, but he had been denied even that.

As a small child he had been beaten and abused by everyone he had come across. The few who had tried to help him had been ridiculed by their fellows. Anywhere Demon had gone, they had shunned him, slowly turning the once-hero into the shattered black-clad warrior named Demon.

The rage was growing, sending fiery tendrils through his sanity. Link, The Hero of Time was slipping away, soon Demon alone remained. He grinned, pulling his knives from his belt. His anger whispered in his head, calling for blood. Lightening quick, a black shadow sped through the night. By morning there would be a more than a few souls making their way to judgement.

***

Demon awoke the next morning completely calm, his rage drowned in blood. Frowning he surveyed the dried blood on his daggers and cape; he had no memory as to its origin. He levered himself to his feet, surveying the shadowy alley from behind a stack of crates. Rubbing his head thoughtfully, Demon wondered where he was, all he could remember was running. A mad dash through the darkness, running from something in-escapable. Demon remembered falling to the pavement in mad panic, and then the white hot rage. The rage that blocked out all other thoughts and feeling, sending him into a quest for blood.

Slowly, Demon turned around, finding himself face to face with a human corpse. It was obviously several hours dead, the gaping hole in its chest drained of blood and coloured with the grey pallor of death. Another victim of his rage Demon mused wondering idly if the man had known who it was that had killed him. "Tell the darkness Demon sent you" he whispered to the man's corpse.

Demon felt nothing for the man; he deserved to die like everyone else. The world had shunned him, beaten him mercilessly and turned him into the monster he was. Village after village he had asked for help, a lost child with no-one to turn to, and village after village he been chased out and humiliated. Only in the arenas, when he killed without mercy was he respected by others. Only in the arenas, with the crowd shouting his name could Demon experience any sense of belonging. Demon laughed to the sullen brick walls which surrounded him. The arenas awaited him; it was time to further his revenge.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Zelda looked every inch a princess standing in front of her dressing-room mirror. A willowy girl with long golden tresses and a determined air stared back, her pale pink dress complementing the blue of her eyes. A pretty young woman, Zelda consented to herself, but not truly beautiful. She had never believed the townsfolk or nobles that called her a "radiant star" or "lovely goddess", she just gave them a smile for their flattery and maybe a polite thank-you. Zelda could not believe herself beautiful, it was not possible. Besides if she really was a beauty than Gabriel would have proposed by now...

She blushed slightly as the object of her thoughts walked into the room. Gabriel was the Lord of a minor southern province in Hyrule and also Zelda's current suitor. All of her maids agreed he was fine catch, gorgeous in looks and very intelligent. For herself, Zelda liked him well enough. Actually, she liked him a lot, Zelda admitted grudgingly. Gabriel was everything she had dreamed of in a man, only surpassed by the Hero of Time himself in her opinion.

Gabriel stopped, his muscular physique filling the doorway. "Almost ready highness?" he asked, hands on hips "You promised me a stroll before we meet the Aratian ambassador." Zelda smiled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She had promised. She would have promised him almost anything after a kiss such as the one he had given her the night before..

As Zelda walked to him Gabriel offered an arm that was quickly accepted. They strolled in silence to the Royal Family's private garden, a small refuge situated almost in the heart of the castle. It was a peaceful retreat where Zelda went to struggle with her innermost thoughts and relax. In a way it was the perfect sanctuary. Zelda hoped Gabriel understood the significance of her allowing him to enter such a private place.

Gabriel sighed, his fingers twining themselves in Zelda's. "Troublesome ambassadors, they show up at the worst times. Are you sure you can handle them yourself?"

"I'll be fine," murmured Zelda, her thoughts filled with other things. Namely how close she was to him. "I just need to sit here with you a while. It helps me relax." she added hastily, wondering if she had been to forward.

"Will you dine with me after the audience?" she asked, trying to cover her previous blunder. "I would like to speak with you of the Cycle. Impa believes the Great Evil of legend has awoken and I would like to know your opinion on matters."

"I am sorry," paused Gabriel "I have…prior arrangements, maybe another time."

Changing the subject he turned to face Zelda, lightly caressing her hand "I heard there was a disturbance last night. Something about a dream?"

Zelda flushed, embarrassed and a little defensive. She did not like Gabriel knowing she had screamed like a child over a nightmare "Not a dream, a prophecy, and a horrible one at that. It would have had anyone screaming."

Gabriel grabbed her arm "It was a prophecy? What did you dream!"

Zelda winced, a little annoyed by his harshness. "There were two warriors in an arena. A man dressed in black and a Gerudo woman. It was the man that scared me, he didn't seem human. The crowd called him Demon and it was a fitting name. I have never seen someone delight so much in shedding of blood." Seeking comfort, she leaned closer to him, but Gabriel shrugged her off.

"Oh," said Gabriel, sounding relieved "Obviously nothing to worry about." He got to his feet. "Well, I have important matters to attend to. I will see you again after your audience with the Aratians."

Zelda watched him leave, a little frustrated. Wasn't she his queen, not some serving girl to be dismissed on a whim? She got up and slowly walked back into the Palace, making her way down the Great Hall where she took audiences. Moving through the hallways Zelda found herself strangely alone, usually there were servants and nobles bustling all around by this time. She banished it to the back of her mind. There must be a meeting going on somewhere. It did not really matter.

Reluctantly Zelda turned her mind back to the Aratian embassy. They had showed up in the middle of the night a few days earlier and demanded to see the Princess. Zelda did not understand it, Hyrule had always had good relations with Aratia. This embassy had come out of the blue and they did not seem to happy. Well, whatever it was there was only one way to find out. Smoothing her dress she walked into the throne room.

The Aratians were already in attendance, sitting in chairs the servants had provided. They stood up and bowed when Zelda walked in, a good sign for negotiations.

She sat down in the ancient throne that was one of the great symbols of Hylian royalty, making sure to keep her features smooth as she surveyed the Aratians.

The audience opened as to be expected, with well-wishes and titles exchanged. The Aratians seemed to love titles, their introductions took well over a half-hour. Zelda settled down in her throne, waiting for them to finish. It would not do to look bored in tired in the eyes of foreign dignitaries. Finally, after much clearing of throats and quick glances, the Aratians announced their true purpose for the visit. Zelda leaned forward as they began to speak, eager to uncover the issue that had been the reason for the trip.

"We have decided," announced a Lord who was obviously the leader of the embassy "That in view of the long-standing friendship between the illustrious nations of Aratia and Hyrule. The great bond that our great countries enjoy..."

Get to the point thought Zelda as the man rumbled on. His flowery way of speech was grating on her nerves. She could almost see the ambassador next to him squirming nervously as the Lord spoke. He reminded her of a rodent.

"We would like to cement that great friendship" the man said, finishing "In the terms of a treaty to be honoured for all time." He held out a grand-looking scroll, flashing glances between her and his fellow Aratians. A servant brought the parchment to Zelda, who began to read it over.

The opening lines were to be expected, almost the exact copy of the speech that the pompous Aratian had subjected her to moments earlier. Zelda scanned the lines over, reading through more slowly as she progressed through it. It was the generic treaty, promising nothing and giving nothing, but yet... Her eyes focused on a line near the bottom. _Hyrule will become a minor province of Aratia and give one-fifth of its royal income to Aratia in exchange for continued support and loyalty._ Shocked, Zelda looked up slowly. There was no way she could agree to this, it was complete insult to her competence for the Aratians to have even suggested such an agreement.

"I will not sign this," Zelda spat, fury dancing in her azure eyes "You cannot make me agree."

"Actually highness," smirked the Aratian Lord, his dark eyes glinting "I think you will do it gladly." Zelda looked at him, about to lash into him when she caught movement out of the corners of her eyes. Looking around she saw Hylian soldiers moving out of corridors and from behind columns, slinking from the shadows all around.

"Throw these rats out of my castle now!" ordered Zelda, rising in her throne. Her eyes flashed defiance at the Aratians.

The Aratian Lord smiled. "Such wonderful disguises. They even fooled you wench! Tie her hands and feet," he commanded to the soldiers "She's coming back to Aratia with us. We'll make her sign the treaty there and have her as a hostage to ensure Hylian co-operation. We leave now!" With that he turned and left, leaving his underlings to take care of the princess.

Zelda screamed calling for her guards, but none appeared. She cried for Gabriel, but he did not come. Finally, she screamed for the Hero of Time. He was alive somewhere, he had to be to fight the evil Impa said was coming. She called for his aid with all her heart, but Demon did not hear.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The days passed in a blur, unremarkable blips that had no meaning for Demon. Only his fights in the arena left any impression on the Hylian warrior. He had stopped visiting the theatre permanently, not wanting to risk any more unwanted memories.

Life blurred around him as he tried to find meaning through his bloody conquests. Demon did not care about the passage of time; only his daily trips to the Coliseum reminded him of its slow marching from Spring to Summer and then Fall.

Leaves were falling from the few trees in the city, a shining carpet of red and orange their final memorial. The few cultivated plants outside homes dying back as frost sucked their life from stems. Demon saw none of it, ignoring totally the gentle reminders of the change of seasons. He walked swiftly through the streets, an ominous presence in an otherwise peaceful scene. It had been a long day in the Coliseum fighting his private war.

Instead of heading back to his quarters Demon changed courses and started heading deeper into the city. An uneasy awakening had been triggered by the sight of Autumn's leaves upon the ground. The small annoyance had been tugging at him all day, lacing his thoughts with images.

It was exactly fourteen years to the day that Demon had been sent back in time by the Gods. Fourteen since his life had fallen from the greatest heights to the blackest depth. It was an annual marker that never failed to trigger a sense of longing in his soul. Usually Demon just crushed the emotion, feeding it to the ball of rage that inhabited his body, but he could no longer do so. He was becoming tired of the endless war, tired of the cycle of blood and violence. The rage that was his life was slowly tearing him apart and eating him alive. Demon could not face his thoughts any longer and the solitude of his hut would force them upon them.

The building loomed in on either side, shutter-less windows staring like eye-sockets from their fronts, their mocking glances having no affect on Demon. The Aratian inner-city was a crowded place with wildly crooked streets rushing in all directions. It was very easy to lose yourself among them, but Demon's night travels had made him a master of their every secret. He found a secluded tavern and went inside, hoping to drown himself in drink.

The tavern itself was a dark lonely affair, filled with dark corners for Demon to hide in. The warrior ordered brandy from the small owlish-looking barkeeper and sat in a corner trying to down the fiery liquid as fast as possible. Peering out from the shadows Demon could see only two other patrons in the tavern. The two men had the look of ruffians and were nursing their drinks while dicing. Their conversation floated to Demon from across the room, gruff voices grating in his head.

"That idiot of a Lord, Arawn, kidnapped her." said one man before taking an impressive swig from his tankard. "Probably started a war in the process"

"A war is good business for us all" replied the other. "We'll crush Hyrule like a ripe fruit."

"Maybe we would, maybe we wouldn't. I don't like those Lords starting petty wars by kidnapping royalty. Hyrule is hardly a threat!"

"What does he want her for?"

"That's what nobody knows. It couldn't be pleasure, Arawn's not the type. At this point it doesn't matter anymore, he's holding Zelda in his private manor and the Hylians are sure to attack. I just hope they manage to kill Arawn. He's a piece of work, that one."

Across the room Demon almost fell over, knocking his brandy to the floor in the process. Rushing across the room, he overturned the two men's table, sending their drinks and dice flying. His black cloak fluttered behind him, thrown up by his violent movements.

"What happened to Zelda?" he snarled, flames burning in the depths of his eyes.

The two men started at the violent destruction of their game and conversation. The looked ready to start a fight until the got a good look of their aggressor. Demon's knives were out clamped tightly in his hands, face contorted. The two fellows quickly changed to a more pacifistic approach.

"She has been kidnapped by Lord Arawn," started one of the men uncertainly, glancing at Demon's knives. "They say he went to Hyrule with an embassy and took her right out of the castle."

"Arawn." Demon murmured. He managed to inflect an enormous amount of hatred into the word. His eyes snapped back to the man, frenzied with pain and fear.

"Where are they keeping her?"

****

Demon ran through the night, Aratia flying beneath his heels. The arena and his private war faded into the background, forgotten or temporarily suspended, Demon didn't know. The news of Zelda's predicament had wiped all other concerns from his mind. He would not let anything happen to her. She had been his dearest friend as a hero; her trust had given him the strength to prevail against all opponents. Link would have done anything to be worthy of that trust, and Demon, shattered as he was, would too.

No one marked Demon's passing as he sped through the darkness, leaving the town and his murderous anger behind. Purpose had entered his existence for the first time since he had given up the name Link and it pushed all other issues aside. He had found something worth fighting for, and for now that was enough to banish the shadows.

The man he had talked to in the tavern had said Zelda was being held at Lord Arawn's manor, at least two days travel on foot. Even with Demon's stamina he would be hard-pressed to continue his break-neck pace, but Demon didn't care. Zelda had once been Link's best friend and was one of the few people Demon had decided did not deserve to die at his hands. She had saved Link's life several times in the alternate timeline and been one a shining example of Love and Wisdom to the Hero of Time and Hyrule. Whether or not the Zelda in this world was still such, Demon did not know and it did not matter. With his last moments as Link, Hero of Time, Demon had decided to protect the Princess and through her his memories of what he had once been.

Recalling Zelda's smiling face in his memories, the usually callous Demon had a startling surge of compassion towards her. He had not thought about his past life and memories for a long time, preferring to drown the pain of those thoughts in the anger that was always a present factor in his life. But seeing Zelda in his mind's eye brought a tentative urge to return to those memories. To try and live up to the Hero of Time Demon had once been. And maybe...just maybe, become worthy of her.

Reprimanding himself mentally, Demon turned his thought to less dangerous matters. His life had been destroyed once, why leave himself open to the same occurrence again? He continued to fly through the night, the land passing in shadowy blurs on either side. Only the occasional presence of farms and fences broke the monotonous darkness.

Demon had no plan for rescuing the princess, but he didn't think he'd need one. The typical manor was closely guarded, but it's structure wasn't the easiest to protect against lone intruders. The sprawling barns and stables that surrounded the actual living quarter made for perfect cover and the many windows and balconies of the manor itself gave ideal entrances. Furthermore, Demon's previous exploits had taught him other skills than just how to fight. Guards, walls and even magical wards were little problem for the Demon.

The country road he was following snaked off into the darkness. A winding path that ran slowly forward with the shadowy presence of cornfields marking the land on either side. The road was one of the small-time trading routes that led to Lord Arawn's manor. The manor market had been suspended till spring, clearing the road of witnesses to Demon's wild dash through the night.

Clouds became tinged with yellow as the sky greyed, announcing the presence of dawn. The late hours of the night transforming to early morning in the endless transformation that marked the cycle of time. Demon finally stopped running, exhausted by hours of loping through the night. The news of Zelda's capture had driven all other thoughts from his mind, but a black weariness had been creeping upon him for hours.

Stumbling down from the raised roadside he dragged himself across the narrow ditch and collapsed in a small hollow. The tall sweeping grass of the plains hid the spot from prying eyes and Demon was too tired to crawl further. He stretched out and almost immediately fell asleep. The lines and tightness in his face smoothed out as he relaxed, leaving Demon looking almost peaceful. For the first time in weeks, no nightmarish visions haunted his slumber, torturing his dreams with shadow and fire. Just the gentle singing of a certain princess Demon was hell-bent on saving.

***

"Get up!"

Demon heard the words and felt the sharp flash of pain that accompanied them. Rising to consciousness from his deep sleep, he stared up at the overweight farmer that had just prodded him with a pitchfork. The farmer was a small man with large protruding eyebrows and a small nose. Demon viewed him with the same disdain he viewed all potential targets for his vengeance.

This man obviously did not know of Demon, few who physically threatened the black-cloaked warrior survived to tell of their exploits. But the familiar tendril of fury did not rise; instead the smiling face of Zelda arose in Demon's mind. He forcefully unclasped his hands from the hilts of his daggers.

"I am a traveller." Demon stated "I am going to the manor of Lord Arawn and..." The farmer cut him off rudely.

"This is my land" the man spat, jabbing his pitchfork threateningly at Demon. "Get out of here now before I hurt you!"

"I am sorry" Demon continued, raising his hands in the air to show his sincerity "I just needed a place to sleep and I did not know this place was yours." He gestured to the obvious scrub and wild-brush around him.

"Just leave, wretch," the man snarled "Before I poke a few holes in you." He jabbed Demon hard enough to draw a little blood.

"I have travelled far and am in need of sustenance." said Demon, ignoring the farmer's threat. "I can pay you rupees for any food you could share with me."

"I don't do business with the likes of your kind." the man growled "Now get!"

Demon calmly stood up and grabbed the farmers pitchfork away from him and snapped it in half. He dropped the two pieces at the man's feet before returning to the road and continuing on his way. Human kind had banished him once again, but the customary anger that usually rose from such alienation was absent. Demon was fixed on rescuing Zelda and not even his personal war could break that resolve. When the former Hero thought of the laughing princess who had once helped him save the world he no longer wanted vengeance for the many wrongs that had been committed against him. His soul no longer needed it.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

As he continued down the path toward Lord Arawn Demon realized just how long he had slept. The sun was barely above the horizon, casting pale shadows across the path as it slowly sank. Demon had spent the entire day in the small depression, sleeping cocooned in the long grass. It was the first time in weeks that he had slept soundly and Demon was thankful for the rest. It renewed his sense of purpose and refreshed his body.

The mad sprint toward Zelda the night before had covered an amazing distance. Judging from the names of small towns that bordered the road Demon thought himself to be more than three-quarters of the way to the manor. Night was falling and the world was readying for sleep, but Demon ignored it. He quickened his pace, eager to reach his goal.

Darkness wrapped itself around him like a cloak. The fall of night bringing with it the anonymity that allowed Demon to pass unnoticed down the winding path. He was most comfortable in the dark anyway, Demon mused to himself. It allowed him to hide from the world that had destroyed him. His anger did not rise with that statement, only a heavy sadness. Demon was no longer a creature of the light and that loss was a heavy load on his shoulders.

The path flowed by beneath his feet, Demon's mechanical stride covering the distance easily. His destination was close, the entrance to the manor not far ahead. The path had transformed into a cobble-stoned roadway as wide as the main street in the Aratian city Demon had lived in. Small piles of refuse dotted the road, a testament to the frequent traffic that ran along it. The cobblestones were worn smooth by the passage of the great carriages and retinues employed by nobility. Demon scoffed at the extravagance of the upper class. They held parties and dances, playing the petty games of intrigue while the common folk starved. It was just another reason why they were unworthy to be alive.

The huge manor gates rose like unearthly shadows in front of Demon. Their giant steel expanse barring the entrance to the manor. Lord Arawn was one of the few Aratian lords who bothered to fortify his manor and his work was evident. A large outer wall ringed his property, the only entrance being the gates right in front of Demon. The black-cloaked warrior looked them over. As he did so he duly noted the small guard tower to one side of the gates. Small fires flickered all the way down the wall, announcing the presences of guards.

Demon walked slowly up to the gate, keeping his eyes fixed on the top of the small tower. A shadowy silhouette marked the lone guard standing watch. He would pose no problem for the Demon.

Running forward he leapt onto the surface of the gate, his weight barely causing a shudder through the steel. Fingers finding handholds, he crept upward and over before letting go and falling to the ground. Demon rolled to his feet, coming up into a combat stance with hands on the hilts of his knives. He did not think the guard had seen him, but caution told him to make sure. As he predicted the lone sentry was still staring aimlessly into the darkness. _It's almost too easy, _Demon thought.

The assassin crept quietly through the manor grounds, a swift wall-hugging shadow. The large mansion which he assumed was Lord Arawn's abode was uncharacteristically alive for such a time of night. Light filtered out of every window, and the sound of laughing and singing drifted clearly into the night. Must be some kind of party, Demon mused.

He knew Zelda would be held in the mansion. A Lord would not let an important political hostage get too far out of sight. It was just a question of where in the mansion. Unless Demon got lucky he would have to do some extensive searching inside. A difficult prospect during the party that Lord Arawn seemed to be holding. He gripped the handles of his daggers. Two days ago Demon would have torn through the manor, leaving a trail of death and destruction behind him. He would have been revelling in the fear and terror of his victims as they fled his wrath. But something inside of Demon had changed when the name Zelda had been spoken to him in that small tavern. For her, he would choose the way of stealth.

Circling round the manor Demon found an open window in one of the private suites. He crawled through finding himself in a luxurious room that bordered on extravagant. Everything was lined with lace and Demon had to step carefully not to trip himself in the deep soft carpet. He moved quickly to the door and stepped into the hallway. It would not do to be found in what was obviously a lady's private quarters.

The sound of tramping feet alerted Demon to the presence of others and he melted back into a shadowy cloister built into the side of the hallway. It's sheltered interior was obviously meant for contemplation, but it was effective concealment from the warrior. Demon peered out slowly as a few soldiers marched past, a new shift coming in to replace the old at some guard-post.

Sitting in his hiding spot the wheels in Demons head turned quickly. The only thing worth guarding in the guest section of the mansion would be a prisoner of some kind. A person who was to be prevented from leaving their room. A foreign princess perhaps? Having no better lead Demon stealthily followed the guards, staying in the shadows as he stalked through the corridors.

The soldiers led Demon down the guest wing toward the centre of the mansion. They marched past door after door neither looking left or right as they went. Just when they were about to reach the end of the guest wing and shatter Demon's hopes of them leading him to Zelda they turned aside. The soldiers made an abrupt left turn and marched down a shallow passage to the front of a plain door before stepping quickly inside.

Once they had all disappeared inside Demon ran swiftly after them and ducked into another shallow alcove. Behind that door was the princess of Hyrule, he was sure of it. It was the only guarded room in the guest section and the perfect spot for holding a prisoner. From his spot inside the dark alcove he heard, rather than saw, the relieved sentries march out of the room and around the corner. The sound of their boots fading away as they headed towards another part of the manner.

Demon drew his knives and let his fighting instincts taking over. All that separated him from Zelda was a fragile door and a couple half-trained recruits. He sprinted out of the alcove and threw his shoulder into the door, disregarding the handle entirely. The entire structure fell inward with a crash as Demon turned his momentum into a roll. He sprang to his feet sweeping his head from side to side as he surveyed the room. Black cape swirling around his figure he was a fallen angel coming to avenge itself on humankind.

The guards stood gaping, weapons held slackly in nerveless hands as they strove to comprehend what was happening. It would be so easy to kill them, Demon mused, so easy to take revenge. He moved forward, knives held ready, but once again the memory of Zelda stopped him. Reversing the knives Demon slammed the hilts into the guard's heads, effectively rendering them unconscious. Neither had done more than raise their weapon in a feeble attempt to fend him off.

Sweeping past their felled bodies, Demon ran toward the inner chamber of the suite. It was a nice room, if rather plain, but the surroundings were lost on Demon as he focussed on the still shape huddled on the straw pallet in the corner. He ran toward it, sheathing his knives as he did so. His shattered soul needed its truest friend and Zelda was so close.

Demon didn't see the soldier that stepped out from behind a screen in the corner. He didn't feel the crossbow bolt that took him in the shoulder and knocked his head back to crack against the stone floor. He could only watch in shock as the diminutive figure on the pallet receded into blackness.

***

A pulsing agony writhed interminably in his mind, red-hot flashes of pain. Demon slowly opened his eyes, still not sure what had happened. He remembered rushing to Zelda's side and then...darkness. A piercing pain in his shoulder snapped him fully awake. He was lying in a semi-dark room with huge draperies and a blood red carpet. He turned his eyes to his throbbing shoulder, noting the snapped off crossbow bolt lodged there. Before he could inspect it further the door opened. Demon recognized the man that walked in, it was Lord Arawn himself, come to gloat over a prisoner.

Demon's hands went immediately to his daggers, a rather futile gesture. Both his sheaths were empty and his wrists were tied together. Lord Arawn paused to look him over, a small smirk twitching the corner of his mouth. Demon didn't care, his only concern rested with a certain princess. He did not care about what they did to him; torture had nothing on the life he had led.

"Zelda," Demon said, looking Arawn straight in the eye "Where's Zelda?"

"So you were after the girl." the man mused "Come to rescue the Princess I suppose. Her knight in shining armour." Running his eyes over Demon he grimaced slightly "Though you hardly look the part."

"Where is Zelda?" Demon said his voice deceptively calm. If this arrogant Lord had hurt her...

"You will know soon enough." Arawn snapped before abruptly changing the subject. "You are somewhat of a mystery to me" he started, "A black-robed assassin who comes out of no-where and penetrates my manor. He gets into the manse itself, before falling victim to a trap set to catch any Hyrule sympathisers trying to rescue a political prisoner. Who are you and who sent you? Answer!"

"I am nothing. I was sent by no one."

"So you are just a single patriot, acting out of mercy? I think not assassin."

Demon glared at the man, but did not answer.

"We will find out who sent you." continued Lord Arawn, his eyes hardening "And you will not enjoy the extraction of the information."

Demon was losing patience with Arawn's questions. "Where is Zelda?" he whispered his eyes burning upward at the lord.

"Still upset over the Princess are we?" Lord Arawn smirked "No one has ever said I'm not a compassionate man. I'll let your princess know that you came calling. And don't worry, for now she is still alive...but that may change."

Demon lurched forward with all his intent upon killing Arawn the quickest way possible. Nobody was allowed to threaten Zelda. Nobody.

Guards stepped out of the hallway to flank Lord Arawn. Weapons lowered, they fended off Demon with their spear-points. Knowing his rage was futile, Demon accepted defeat by rolling back to his former position.

"Carry him" Arawn barked "We're taking him into the dungeons."

Demon did not resist their rough handling; he could not face two soldiers with his hands tied behind his back. He could barely see any of his surroundings as he was manhandled through corridors and carried down stairs. Finally, his captors paused, waiting for orders from Lord Arawn who had been walking on ahead. The corridor was dark and stuffy with only the occasional torch to lighten the atmosphere. Demon strained his neck trying to get a better glance of the hallway. He was obviously underground, but he had never thought that the mansion would have a basement, especially a basement which doubled as an extensive prison complex.

Lord Arawn jabbed his finger at one of the doors that lined the hallway, eliciting a moment of surprised hesitation from the guards carrying Demon.

"You want us to put him in with her?" asked one guard incredulously.

"Why not?" Snapped Arawn, annoyed. "He is obviously loyal to her" the Lord continued, nodding his head at Demon "If we torture him, then she'll either feel guilty about letting one of her loyal subjects suffer or else be scared we'll hurt her too. Either way we get the treaty signed."

Demon understood little of the man's rant. His head was spinning again, and it was all he could do to keep from blacking out. The guards threw him into the pitch-black cell and slammed the oaken door shut with a crash. He slumped against the wall defeated. He had failed, failed himself, failed Hyrule and most importantly, he had failed Zelda. His life was worth nothing rotting in prison and Zelda was still a captive.

A shuffling in the darkness broke him out of his reverie. "Who's there!" he barked, preparing to defend himself against the unseen threat.

A tentative whisper came back at him out of the darkness. "Zelda. Zelda Harkinian."

Author's Note:

Good Grief. Did nobody want to tell me how bad this really was, or what. I can barely read this drivel and I wrote it! Demon is the most self-indulgent, pathetic, melodramatic whiner I've ever had the pleasure of creating. And trust me, he does have some competition.

Anyway, I can only promise you (the reader) that it does get better. As depressing as it is for me to have to go back and edit this, I do take pride in the progress I've made since this time. Please persevere!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Zelda" Demon murmured, almost caressing the syllables with his voice. He had finally found her. No matter what came next, he could deal with it, as long as Zelda was by his side. And just by being with the princess maybe he could pretend for a while that he was still a Hero. Still a warrior of justice and light.

"Who are you" Zelda asked, fright still audible in her voice. Demon had to quickly focus. The Zelda he had known no longer existed and this new princess had no memory of him or who he was.

He was still reluctant thought, to give her a name. The title of Demon had too much blood and pain attached to it. Demon was the anger that swirled around inside of him. Link was also out of the question. He was done with that name for good.

"Your rescuer." Demon rasped pain evident in his voice. The arrow in his shoulder was a fiery pulse. His fall to the floor of the cell had wrenched the shaft, ripping it farther into his flesh. Much to his chagrin Demon could no longer ignore the pain.

Zelda flinched at the obvious suffering of her fellow cellmate, human instincts telling her to help him. She trusted him automatically and at the same time wondered why she did so. Following her instincts she crawled forward in the darkness, clumsily crossing the floor towards Demon.

Demon stiffened as he heard her crawl toward him. She was still as innocent and trusting as his Zelda. He was a mysterious man in the darkness of a prison cell and she had opted to trust him. Demons almost laughed at the utter improbability of it all. And yet it scared him, it was too familiar.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice rough to suppress the sadness her trust aroused within him.

"You're hurt." Zelda replied "And I can help you." She reached out a hand to Demon's wounded shoulder and grasped air as he flinched away.

"Don't touch" he rasped. She was too much like his Zelda. Too close to what he had given up. Demon would save her, would give his life for her, but he didn't want the awful reminders of what had been. He was learning the hard way that Zelda was Zelda, no matter what timeline or circumstance.

She reached forward once more, confused by Demon's reaction, but not put off.

"You are in great pain and I have skill in healing." Zelda whispered " Let me ease your suffering."

The black-cloaked warrior stiffened anew. The pain in his shoulder was spreading and he knew she could heal it. It would be easy to just surrender to her, but it would be the first step down a road that could utterly destroy all he had left. In his drive to rescue Zelda, Demon had forgotten how excruciatingly painful it was to be around her. In fact, the pain was the reason Demon had never visited the castle in Hyrule. He had preferred not to remind himself of how he missed his dearest friend by visiting the Zelda in this world.

Missing his tension in the darkness Zelda moved forward again, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. By chance it was Demon's wounded shoulder and she tensed as she felt the wetness of blood.

"What happened to you?" asked Zelda, her hand probing the extent of Demon's wound.

All of Demon's instincts screamed to run away from her touch, but he could not pull away. He could kill more easily than think, but he felt his armour cracking further as Zelda tended his shoulder.

"Arawn found me in one of the rooms upstairs." Demon replied in answer to the princess' question. "One of his guards had a crossbow."

"What were you doing?" Zelda murmured, feeling out the wound around the arrow. She had always been a gifted healer, able to draw upon the magic of the Goddesses through the piece of Triforce that inhabited her body. The triangular mark on her left hand glowed as the princess probed Demon's shoulder with her mind.

"Looking for a certain princess." Demon whispered. Muscles in his neck clenching as he felt the arrowhead shift in Zelda's grip.

"I guess you found her then?" Zelda questioned, continuing their idle conversation to distract Demon from his wound.

"I guess I did" he gasped as the piece of metal came free with a wet squelch. A thick flow of blood poured out of the puncture, soaking Demon's side.

Zelda called upon her magic once more to seal the gash, closing the skin and healing the ruptured blood vessels with her power.

"It will still hurt." she said, backing away from Demon to slouch back against the stone wall. "Were there others with you?" Zelda asked, adding "Who sent you?" as an afterthought.

"I came alone." replied Demon ignoring the princess's second question. More pressing issues filled his mind. "Have they hurt you in any way, highness?"

"Just my pride." sighed Zelda, happy to have someone besides Arawn to talk to. She did not ask farther into Demon's background. Content in her knowledge that he was on her side, nothing else was important at the moment. "Though there have been threats."

"I will not let them touch you." Demon said impulsively. He cursed himself inwardly. Zelda was getting to him, tearing away his defences. He could not let that happen. She had cared for him, healing his wound and drawing him into conversation. No one else had ever cared, but Zelda was different. And that difference would be his downfall.

Zelda almost laughed. Who-ever this man was she liked him. He was in no position to provide protection and she knew it, but the princess felt oddly safe with him nearby. She let the conversation die and leaned back into the wall, feeling oddly content for the first time since her kidnapping.

***

Demon awoke slowly, his mind taking a moment to remember where he was. The darkness around him was still impenetrable, but he could sense the walls of the cell a few yards away. At his side Zelda was still sleeping. She had moved up against him sometime during the night and had buried her head in his newly healed shoulder. Demon wrapped an arm around her protectively, trying to shield her from the darkness around them. His defences were broken and burning around his feet and Demon knew it. The memories of another timeline drew Demon to Zelda like a moth to a candle.

He heard tramping through the cell's thick door, announcing the presence of a visitor. Demon shook Zelda gently awake. "Someone approaches" he whispered "Stay behind me when they open the door. A jingle of keys in the lock sent Demon scrambling into a fighting crouch. The door swung open, flooding the cell with torchlight that temporarily blinded the two prisoners. They both squinted, desperately trying to recognized the muscular figure framed in the doorway.

Demon went stiff with shock as Zelda ran out from behind him and into the arms of the brown-haired man.

"Gabriel, she choked, "I knew you would come." She pulled his head down and kissed him passionately.

"I would not leave you in the hands of these Aratian dogs!" he replied, wrapping his arms around her. "It is good to see you safe, Zelda."

Turning his gaze from Zelda to Demon's shadowy form Gabriel's eyes darkened.

"Who is this man?"

Zelda began to answer as she followed the Lord's eyes to Demon. "That is..." All the blood drained from her face as she stared at the warrior. It was the first time she had seen his face and it left her stunned. The man she had healed and conversed with was the Demon from her dream. The murderer who had laughed as he sent the Gerudo woman to the afterlife.

Gabriel caught her shock out of the corner of his eye and mistook the meaning. He drew his sword and stepped forward menacing Demon. "Has he hurt you? Say the word and he will die."

Zelda stood transfixed; here was the evil man who had haunted her dreams. A twisted blood-thirsty warrior who delighted in killing. By all her inner morals he did not deserve to live. And yet... he had tried to save her from Arawn. This murderer had risked his life trying to save her and had done his best to comfort her when he had been captured. Demon had sworn to protect her and she had detected no lie in his voice. Conflicting emotions swirled inside the princess, but Zelda made the only decision that she could let herself make.

Seeing her indecision Gabriel had taken the situation into his own hands. He raised the sword above his head and prepared to strike. The blow would have most likely cut Demon in half.

Demon was oblivious to all around him, Gabriel's sword gone unnoticed as he stared at Zelda. She was absolutely identical to the princess he had said good-bye to seven years before. Her blonde hair was dirty and her clothes were ragged, but Demon could see the royalty within her. The pain was terrible, once he had been Zelda's best friend and companion. She was the closest he had ever come to having a real family and she no longer remembered him. The fear in her eyes as she looked at him was tearing Demon's soul, but the black-cloaked warrior knew he deserved it. The noble hero who had befriended Zelda in the alternate timeline had been replaced by a monster. A monster who was slowly dying under the princess's gaze.

Zelda saw Gabriel's sword rise and instantly came to a decision. "No!" she shouted and ran between Gabriel and Demon. "He is a murderer, but he does not deserve to die."

"This man," Gabriel growled nodding at Demon "Is a blight that we would do well to remove.

"He tried to rescue me!" cried Zelda "Do not kill him."

Sighing in resignation Gabriel lowered his sword. "Very well highness, I will not harm him." The lord turned toward the door. "We must hurry. My men are holding off the guard, but they will not be able to do it for long. Come on princess, we are leaving now." Zelda hurried after him, only casting one last fear-filled glance at Demon before leaving the room.

Demon slumped back against the wall, crumpling into himself. He had completely and totally failed. He had not rescued Zelda, only succeeded in getting himself captured and now she was gone. He could almost feel her presence leaving him, the darkness filling her absence. Demon had tried, tried to remedy years of violence and crime on his part and it had not worked. Zelda had been his last hope for acceptance. The fear in her eyes was burned into his memory. The man that was Demon shuddered, tears dripping down his face. Once more, the world had made him outcast.

A scraping sound alerted him to the presence of another in the cell. He looked upward, eyes full of despair, at Gabriel. The brown-haired lord stood smirking, sword in hand. "Hello, Hero of Time"

Demon's mind snapped clear of his despair, eyes widening. How had Gabriel known? Panic gripped him as he stared into Gabriel's cold brown eyes. Nobody knew who Demon was. Nobody. It must be some sort of mistake.

"How?" Demon asked, despair mixing with incredulity on his face.

"A glimpse of that golden abomination on your left hand told me all I needed to know." Gabriel sneered "A pity considering the princess's orders. She wanted the deed done out of her sight. Prepare to die imposter."

Link felt himself going numb. Zelda had ordered his death? The one person he had always trusted had betrayed him. There was no-one else Gabriel could have been referring to. The rage rose within his mind as the armour Zelda had shattered rose once again around his soul. What had been iron was now steel. The anger raged once more and without Zelda, Demon could find no reason to fight it. He let himself go, fury filling his being.

Gabriel's gaze faltered as he saw the fires light in Demon's smouldering blue eyes. He raised his sword, barely getting it above his head before Demon attacked. The lord stumbled backward, his weapon knocked from his hand. He looked from the sword on the ground to Demon's raging eyes before turning tail and running out of the cell. The sound of his fleeing boots could be heard echoing through the dungeon.

Demon picked up Gabriel's sword, the mad fire in his eyes growing as he used it to sever his bonds. Stalking out of the cell he headed up the stairs to the main level of the manse. A growing shadow in a world of darkness.

***

The arena was cloaked in darkness, a shadowy colossus steeped in blood. The sand granules that covered the bottom of the gladiator pit seemed to melt together, creating a turbulent grey fog. The illusion pooled around Demon's feet like a whirling portal from some unwholesome world. The black-cloaked warrior was a lone figure rising from the centre of the deserted coliseum.

Demon had escaped the manse, reclaimed his daggers and torn the life from Lord Arawn's body. On his flight back to the arena he had found the ugly farmer who had menaced him and killed him too. The cycle of blood had overtaken the warrior and he was riding the brink of its raging fury.

Once again the shadows were swirling in his eyes. This time they were darker, flecks of red like embers lighting the centres. The coldness that had once inhabited them was now ice; only traces of blue had survived. Demon laughed insanely, raising his daggers to the heavens. The action pulled at his cloak to reveal the splattering of recently dried blood. His figure blurred, wavering as if the shadows of the arena was pulling at him.

The Demon had returned.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Zelda sobbed quietly to herself, overcome with relief. Gabriel had finally come for her, braving capture and death to complete his mission. The princess was sitting on the back of Gabriel's horse with her arms wrapped around his muscular torso. Tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed against his leather armour. Lord Arawn's manor was fading into the distance and Zelda's memories of terror and darkness with it.

Jingling harnesses and the occasional whisper were the only sounds as the Hylian mounted regiment galloped through the night. It was a rescue force, mobilized for the sole purpose of re-claiming the princess. They had ridden deep into enemy territory and recovered their beloved princess at risk to their own lives. Zelda was immensely proud of them, but her mind was occupied with other things.

She could still see Demon's face in her mind's eye, a haunting mixture of pain and sorrow that tugged at her heart. He looked so broken, so betrayed as she had turned and ran from the jail cell. And his face had seemed so familiar... like it had been that of an old friend.

Zelda wondered what had happened to Demon. Gabriel had spared his life and Demon was free to leave the cell, but by the look Zelda had seen on his face she was not sure if he would. Demon had looked like a soul on the verge of oblivion and maybe Zelda's action had given him the push over the edge. The princess was surprised to find that she honestly hoped Demon had escaped. She had a feeling she would meet the black-clad warrior again.

Zelda's dreams never lied, she knew Demon had committed murder in his past and enjoyed doing it. His face had haunted her from the shadows since that fateful night, a symbol of the coming evil that would rock the world. But it seemed that she had misjudged him. Demon had risked his life to try and save Zelda and sworn to protect her in the jail-cell. There was another side to Demon that her dream had not showed her.

Traces of grey were just beginning to tinge the sky, announcing the presence of dawn. Sensing the change the Hylian company urged their mounts onward. They had to be across the border by sunrise to have any chance of preventing a war.

The whole company had come in plain armour and weapons with no insignias to prevent their allegiance from being recognized, but to be caught at the border to Hyrule would make their nationality obvious. The Aratians would take a Hylian military presence on their land as a threat and would use it as an excuse. If they could not get their treaty signed through Zelda, than they might do it through military might.

The Hylian soldier sped across the shallow plain that separated Hyrule from Aratia, making for the low ridge that marked the unofficial border. Zelda dropped her head lower into Gabriel's back and prayed that they would make in time. Gabriel was too busy scanning the ridge for border patrols to notice Zelda's actions. Out of all the men and women in the rescue team, he was the only one who had known for certain that the mission would be a success. How he knew was a secret that he could never reveal to any Hylian.

***

Her room was the most beautiful thing Zelda had seen in a long time. The great tapestry, small baubles on her shelves, and fire in the hearth all gave off a sense of security she had not felt in days. The princess had just stumbled through the door, exhaustion plain on her weary features. A dress that had once been one of her best was now torn and muddy, a testament to days of imprisonment and travel. Nothing in the world had ever seemed so inviting as the large bronze bathtub that Zelda knew lay just inside a small side-chamber. The princess was finally home and she meant to enjoy it.

The servants and castle staff had cheered wildly as Zelda rode into the grounds, overjoyed at the return of their beloved princess. Now a full-blown holiday had erupted inside and around the castle. All tasks abandoned, the servants and nobles were celebrating the safety of their ruler. Zelda herself was very flattered at the show of affection and would have stayed with her people if Impa had not hustled her away.

Impa had literally grabbed the princess off Gabriel's horse and dragged the girl into the castle. After a crushing hug the nurse had proceeded to give Zelda the most thorough tongue-lashing of her life. According to Impa, Zelda was to never again leave the castle or proceed anywhere without a royal retinue of five hundred guards. The princess sincerely hoped her nurse was bluffing.

Zelda collapsed onto her bed, drinking in the luxury of the silk sheets and pillows. Turning her head toward the tapestry on her wall she stared at the face of the Hero of Time. His sky-blue eyes stared back into hers, fearless and bold they were the eyes of a true hero. Zelda shivered slightly, remembering the way Demon's eyes had looked in her dream. Almost the same sky-blue as the tapestry, but marred with swirling clouds of darkness that hid their beauty. It was a wonder, marvelled Zelda that two men could look so similar and yet be so different.

Demon was laughing. Laughing hysterically as his daggers flashed in the sunlight. It had been weeks since he had returned and Zelda was fading away into memory. He was in the arena once again, taking out his anger on his opponents. By now, the officials knew he could not lose in a fair fight; so they had decided to make his contests unfair. Nine mercenaries had been sent into the ring at once, promised a fortune if they could bring down the Demon. For a desperate mercenary alone on the road it had been a good deal, but they had not counted on Demon.

The battle was over before the crowd could properly enjoy it. Demon stood alone on the blood-stained sand, head flung back as he laughed hysterically. Nine corpses littered the ground around him, weapons scattered or broken. The fallen angel was wreaking his vengeance.

Zelda was fading into the depths once again as the anger smothering her memory. She had betrayed the black-cloaked warrior and the darkness had arisen in answer to Demon's despair. The princess was the one person that the warrior had hoped would save him, but she had damned him instead. Banished him back to the darkness.

Deep in one of the expensive viewing platforms two men were sitting side by side. They were both dressed in expensive robes and slaves catered to their every whim. To the ignorant peasant, they were nobleman, dangerous people to be avoided at all cost. To the Aratian nobles, the two men were gods with the power to bring death or destruction.

"It the entertainment pleasing my Lord?" asked the shorter of the two, glancing deferentially at the other.

"Yes, it is most amusing." replied the king of Aratia. He was on a state visit from the capital to the Marquis of the small arena town. Like most Aratians, he had a violent craving for blood-sports that had drawn him to the coliseum earlier in the morning.

"He is quite good." murmured the shorter man, peering at Demon over the balcony rail. "To take nine men single-handed. I have never seen anything like it."

"They call him Demon for a reason, Luther. He is the most feared fighter in Aratia. I have been hearing about him from the Marquis."

"Impressive for a man to survive so long in the arenas. We should not let such talent go to waste. He would make a fine assassin."

The king of Aratia studied his associate, peering quizzically at the man. "You think we should recruit him?"

"Demon has the skill," started Luther, liking his idea more and more. "He is also known throughout the land. It would do some of your...opponents much good to know you have a warrior of such repute in your pay. Make them check under the bed at night. Eh, majesty?"

The king laughed a menacing sound that radiated danger. "It would do them well indeed. Arrange for this Demon to see me after he is...finished." With one hand, he gestured delicately toward the arena where a fresh group of mercenaries were being slaughtered. "He and I have some business to attend to."

***

It was approaching dusk when Demon finally stalked out of the arena. A trail of blood and death the monument to his day's work. As the corpses had piled up, his insane laughter had slowly died, leaving him to continue his bloody reverie in silence. Anger still twisted and bucked inside of Demon, but it was fading into shadow. The dark bleakness rising up to take its place, a suffocating blanket in place of the hellish inferno.

The inner gateways of the coliseum opened grudgingly as Demon passed. Thick creaking iron groaned, rotating slowly on giant hinges. No gesture was needed for the guards to grant him passage through the arena. The last few sentries who had barred Demon's way had paid for their error in blood.

The warrior of darkness stared suspiciously at the last and greatest gate. The usual sentinels were missing and the gate stood locked and barred. Something was clearly wrong and even through the layers of rage and despair Demon could sense it. He tensed, drawing blood-stained daggers and swinging his back to the wall of the corridor in one smooth motion. A man stepped out of the shadows, threat emanating from his form. The sparks sprang back into Demon's eyes as he anticipated another chance for blood-shed.

"I am not here to fight you." the man uttered, shying away from Demon's unspoken challenge.

"You will die anyway." Demon snarled, flipping his daggers through his fingers.

"Killing me would be the last mistake you would ever make." the shadowy figure replied, his lack of intimidation noticeable. Few could look upon Demon without fear and none had ever done so without nervousness. Sensing his opponent's hesitation the man took a short bow.

"My name is Luther and I come with a summons you would be wise not to refuse. My master has developed an interest in your...abilities. He wants a private audience with you."

Demon narrowed his eyes and stared at Luther. Judging from the insignias on his clothing, this Luther was a servant or advisor of the king of Aratia. Not a man that Demon could kill with impunity. It dawned on him that he was most likely being offered a job. Demon was amused by the proposition. In any other sort of society his tendency for mass-murder would be met with shock and outrage. In Aratia, the king was trying to hire him.

"Lead on" Demon said quietly.

Luther turned and started walking without another word, Demon stalked after him. The black-cloaked warrior followed the man through the twisted passage-ways, focusing his eyes on Luther's swirling cape. He wondered briefly who the king would send him to kill; only a need for an assassin would have prompted the king to contact Demon. A royal assassin could kill anyone or anything under the symbol of Aratian sovereignty. It would be just another way for Demon to wreak judgement on the people who had oppressed him.

Luther disappeared into a side-chamber and Demon followed him, the door closing behind them. Seated on a make-shift throne in the centre of the room was the king of Aratia. Cold cruel eyes stared back at Demon from a darkly handsome face. Two guards stood on either side of the doorway, spears in hand.

"Kneel to your king!" one spat, attempting to bludgeon Demon to the ground with his spear. The black-cloaked warrior caught the shaft in one hand and slipped underneath the thrust. His hands tightened themselves on the guard's neck, causing the hapless individual to thrash furiously. Demon's grip never faltered as it tightened slowly, choking the life out of the man.

"I see we have not under-estimated your talents." the king said from his throne. Almost as an afterthought he added "Release him."

Demon let go in response to the order, sending the man crashing to the floor. He turned away contemptuously. The king's gaze held a hint of measuring, as if he was being compared to some foreign ideal.

"They say you are the devil incarnate." the man started "The deadliest man with a blade that walks the earth. They say you would be a match for the so-called Hero of Time."

Demon started at the title, but the regent did not seem to notice. His gaze shifted back to Demon and seemed to focus. The far-away look in his eyes disappeared.

"I have watched you and I agree with them. You are the best killer to be found in the land and your skill has not gone unnoticed. I am here to offer you an opportunity. An opportunity to leave this dingy hole of a town and move up in the world. Power, money, luxuries, I am offering them to you. I am ready to give you a new life with everything you could ever desire."

He shifted on his throne, picking and choosing words.

"In Aratia and the surrounding lands there are many...factions that would like to see me...removed from power. As the rightful king of the land I cannot let them succeed. Sometimes those people need to be...persuaded to let me continue ruling Aratia. You have the skills to complete that persuasion."

The king clasped his hand in front of himself and looked at Demon with a pretence of earnestness.

"You could become on of the most powerful people in Aratia, Demon. Whatever you would want could be yours. In exchange I ask only..."

"That certain people disappear." Demon finished the sentence for him. The regent's eyebrows shot up, not used to being interrupted.

"That is the general idea, yes." continued the king. "I have my enemies among the nobles and foreigners. It would be most convenient for some of them to be removed. I need you for this task Demon and in turn I can fulfill you wildest dreams." He extended a hand, as if to snatch Demon from the jaws of fate.

The speech was lost on Demon; he had already decided to join the man if only because of sudden whim. His anger could be sated anywhere and he felt a strange urging to show loyalty to something, if only a power-mad dictator.

"I will do what-ever you desire." stated the Demon. "Give me a name and they will die. I ask only one thing of you."

"And what is that." the regent said narrowly. His dark eyes flashing warning from behind furrowed brows.

"Keep giving me names."

The man threw his head back and laughed, not the hysterical sound Demon had voiced earlier, but a bone chilling note that made the chamber seem darker. He suddenly turned his head back to Demon.

"They also told me you were thoroughly insane, I didn't believe them. Now I do. Never in my years have I met someone as blood-thirsty as yourself." the king paused, his gaze trying to bore it's way into Demon's head.

"Why do you kill Demon?"

Demon stared at the man mulling over the question

The man continued after the pause. "Some do it for glory, others for money. People murder to protect their loved ones, or gain power. Why do you kill?"

"Revenge." Demon whispered, sparks flaming to life in his eyes.

"A worthy cause." the man muttered. He studied Demon slowly "I think I have just thought of a worthy target for your skill...You of course know of our troubles with Hyrule. A small, weak country at the edge of great Aratian Empire it has somehow managed to elude our grasp for generations. It is a small nation, but one rich in wealth and magic. Always when we have tried to conquer it the ruling monarch has banded the land together and destroyed our forces."

He paused before continuing. "In the last few years we have tried a new approach. Namely, cutting off the head of the snake."

Demon stiffened, he knew where this was going.

"The snake is the peoples of Hyrule and the royal family is the head of that snake. Without the royal family, Hyrule could never survive an assault from Aratian forces. Lord Arawn tried to remove the head by kidnapping the princess. I am sure you have heard what a disaster it was. Lord Arawn is dead and the princess escaped. Now I am trying a different approach - this is where you come in. Assassin, it is time for you to prove you loyalty to Aratia and advance our great and glorious civilization."

The king paused again, hesitating before continuing.

"Princess Zelda of Hyrule must die."

Demon stood rooted to the floor with shock. Zelda. He wanted Demon to murder Zelda. His old feeling rose within him. He could see Zelda in the prison cell back at Lord Arawn's manor. Defiant and beautiful, she embodied everything he had ever cared about. She was the Princess of Destiny, he could not kill her!

And yet she had sent Gabriel to kill him, Zelda had ordered his death. Demon had tried so hard and sacrificed so much to be worth of her and she had cast him aside. Back into the darkness. Anger welled up within him, squeezing the old emotions and strangling Zelda's image. She had proven herself to be just like everyone else. She too deserved to die.

"She will be dead within a week." Demon snarled "I give you my word."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The night was dark around Demon as he ran, Aratia flying by in the shadows. It would take him nearly the entire night to reach the border and he had to have darkness to sneak by the sentry patrols the Hylians had begun after the kidnapping of their princess. After that it was on to Castle-town and Hyrule Castle.

Sparks were colliding and dying in Demon eyes, showing the turmoil within him. He was being sent to kill Zelda and even after his words to the king he was not sure if he could accomplish his task. Link, Hero of Time would have given his life ten times over before letting Zelda be harmed and the shattered remnants of his personality were stirring in Demon's head. Link would not let Zelda die, could not if he ever hoped to be whole again. But Demon's anger was raging against the princess that had ordered him killed. She was just like the others, another mocker condemning him to outcast. The fury beat back the Hero of Time, smothering his cries. Demon had given Zelda a chance and she had failed him. His shadowy figure disappeared into the blackness.

The first of the sentry patrols marched right by Demon as he stood silently beside the road. So well did the darkness hide him that he could hardly seen from five paces. Demon was a true assassin, robed in black, cloaked in shadow. The guards didn't stand a chance of finding him.

The patrols became more frequent as he crossed to the Hylian side of the border. Demon was crouched low and skulking through the brush. He had left the road long before to avoid enemy sentries and so far his measures had worked. Another group of soldiers tramped through the long grass somewhere to his left, but their boots soon faded away into the distance.

No matter how perfect a defence is made, there will always be weaknesses and the Hylian border-guard was no exception. As the patrols marched by chinks and holes in their vigilance were readily exploited by Demon. The border drew away behind him as he crept forward, until finally, the last patrol swept by and Demon faded into the shadows behind their vigilance. No Hylian had seen the assassin as he penetrated the defence.

Laughing softly to himself, Demon took off down the border road. It had been a long time since he had last felt Hyrule's soil beneath him. He fingered the tips of his pointed Hylian ears, lost in memories. He had last crossed the border in the opposite direction, fleeing the mocking crowds that had threatened his life. Demon had been a broken boy with nothing and no-one. A sobbing wreck stripped of everything he had believed in. The warrior tightened his hands into fists, snarling into the darkness. He would get his revenge.

Pale streaks of light suffused the night sky, heralding the coming sun. Yellow began to tinge the grey as the first rays of light escaped over the horizon. The darkness fled back into the earth leaving Demon alone to face the dawn. He almost stumbled as he looked around him, realizing where he was. The green grasses of Hyrule field were slowly coming into view around him. There windswept glory bringing memories from Demon's mind. Happier memories from another timeline.

***

_Link laughed exultantly, they joy of the chase welling within him. Epona's hard muscles, bunched and flexed as the horse galloped across the swaying grass. In front of him, Zelda's hair was streaming in the wind as she urged her horse, Destiny, to greater speeds. She was winning their race so far, but Link was gradually decreasing her lead._

_ Zelda looked over her shoulder at the green-clad hero, excitement sparkling in her eyes. "You can't catch me, Link. Just give up now and I'll spare you the humiliation of losing."_

_ "The Hero of Time never loses" Link grinned back "Not even to the Princess of Destiny." He urged Epona forward until the two horses were neck. The two animals were almost touching as they stretched to outdo each other. Zelda looked at Link out of the corner of her eye and grinned wickedly. Leaning sideways out of the saddle she kissed him soundly on the cheek. Stunned the Hero of Time lost his concentration and before he could recover Zelda gave him a shove which sent him tumbling to the ground. _

_ Link rolled to his feet as his now riderless horse slowed to a stop ahead of him. _

_ "Unfair Princess!" Link yelled at Zelda as he started to sprint after her. She was laughing hysterically from her saddle, swaying dangerously in her mirth. Her horse had slowed almost to a stop as the princess forgot all about the race. She started to slip off the horse side-ways, laughter racking her body. Seeing the danger, Link put on an extra burst of speed in a race against time. Zelda started to fall, her eyes going wide as she finally realized what was happening, but Link was there to catch her. His strong arms set the princess gently down on the grass._

_ Zelda finally stopped laughing, her earnest blue eyes staring upward at the Hero of Time. "What would I ever do without you Link?" she said, her eyes suddenly filled with sadness._

_ Link sat down beside her with confusion written on his features. "What do you mean princess? I'm always going to be here."_

_ Zelda avoided the question, something that was not lost on Link. "What have I told you about calling me princess? The names Zelda! Got that?" Any harshness was dispersed by the twinkle in the princess's eyes._

_ Link put his right hand over his heart and took a bow "Yes, princess. Your word is my command."_

_ Zelda took a playful swat at him. "Princess this, Princess that. It's all they ever call me in the castle." She lost her smile for a moment. "Please Link, you're my best friend, not some kind of glorified servant."_

_ "Really?" Link smiled "The way you order me around I sometimes wonder..." He too became serious. "But if it means that much to you I'm sure I can make an exception. Just make sure you're father doesn't find out...Zelda."_

_ The princess laughed. "You're right, Dad would throw a fit" She drew herself up in a perfect imitation of her father "Consorting with peasants again are we? What have I told you about that scoundrel boy? He's not fit company for a princess!"_

_Zelda sighed, rolling a piece of grass between her palms. "Sometimes I wish we could tell him, who really defeated Ganondorf and saved Hyrule from his evil."_

_ Link shivered, lost in his memories of the evil king Ganondorf. He had been a male Gerudo who dabbled in the black arts. Wielding his magic, he had almost destroyed Hyrule. Until Link and Zelda had sealed him away in an alternate dimension.. _

_ "No way, princess," Link said frantically, falling back into his old habit. "You're not turning me into some sort of celebrity hero." He took Zelda's hand in his and looked her beseechingly in the eyes. "You know I couldn't live like that, with people bowing down and treating me like royalty."_

_ Something in Zelda melted. "I know Link." she said quietly "I just sometimes wish that you would get the respect you deserve. You saved the world and I'm the only one who knows."_

_ "You're the only one I want to know." Link replied, still looking into her eyes. He blushed as he realized how that sounded. "I mean...all the fun's in anonymity anyway. The Hero of Time can't go gallivanting around Hyrule risking his neck, but Link can. Being myself is better than some stuffy old hero."_

_ Zelda giggled, glancing mischievously at Link. "But only heroes can marry princesses."_

_ Link blushed even redder and quickly turned his head from Zelda to hide it. They both stared off into the sweeping sea of grass for a while before Link answered._

_ "We'll see" he whispered._

***

Demon snarled, the pain raw in his cry. The memories were still there in his head, a testament to what he had lost. Those carefree days no longer even existed and the Zelda who had been his dearest friend had been replaced by a princess who had tried to kill Demon. He fell to his knees in the long grass, staring sightlessly into the distance. His memories whispered to him, tearing at his resolve to continue his mission. Pictures of himself and Zelda swirled through his head. Hope. Despair. Laughter. Sadness. He and Zelda had been through so much together. But not this Zelda. Demon knew the Zelda in his memories was gone, nothing remained of her. The princess who ruled Hyrule now was not fit lick her boots, she was a disgrace to the other's memory.

The black-cloaked warrior slowly got to his feet and continued moving toward the castle. His pace would carry him there before nightfall. A certain princess did not have long to live.

***

Huge pavilions marked the scenery around Demon, balloon-like structures painted every color imaginable. The market outside Hyrule castle was as busy as ever. Hawkers advertised their wares and merchants bargained aggressively with costumers. Demon felt slightly out of place amidst the excitement and bustle. The crowds parted to allow him passage, sensing enough danger in his presence to send them scurrying aside. The twin sheaths on his thighs more than discouraged the occasional pick-pocket, not that Demon had many rupees on him.

Dominating the skyline were the giant parapets and towers of Hyrule castle. It was truly an architectural wonder, some said it had been built by the goddesses themselves. Demon didn't know what to believe, but he stared at it just the same. It was an all-to-familiar presence in a town that already held to many ghosts for the warrior of darkness.

The Temple of Time was another monument Demon was doing his best to avoid. It was an ancient place that marked the entrance to another dimension, called the Sacred Realm. Only there could one enter the Realm which was said to be the dwelling of the Goddesses. Demon had been to the sacred realm, a journey that he would have liked to forget. It was in the Temple of Time that he had been charged to become the Hero of Time and save the world. It had been the place where he had attained the Master-Sword, a legendary weapon that was known as Evil's Bane. And it was in the Temple of Time that he had first awoken as a ten-year old boy after being sent back to his present reality.

A beggar approached Demon, pleading for rupees. He was a pitiful sight, straggly locks of grey hair half covering a face that showed more dirt than skin. "Please sir," he rasped "I haven't eaten since yesterday." Demon showed him an inch of steel and gave him a snarl which sent him quickly on his way. The beggars stayed clear of him after that, targeting more likely prospects.

The hot, sweaty crowd were annoying to Demon, the teeming masses of humanity getting on his nerves. He strode out of the square and into a side alley before sitting down to wait out the few hours before nightfall. His attack would be in darkness.

***

Shadows crawled through the now deserted marketplace. Costumers had departed to the taverns and bars while merchants retreated to their rooms in inns and taverns. Only a few souls still travelled the market. Most of them were homeless scroungers, scraping out a living on the edge of civilization. None of them saw Demon as he slipped through the square, heading towards the towering heights of Hyrule castle.

The castle itself was located on a large hill just outside the city. Massive walls made any approach impossible except through the main gate. Demon knew the defences were one of the major reasons Hyrule had resisted Aratian rule for so many years. The entire Aratian army would have a hard time taking the keep, even if soldiers were gathered from all the corners of the empire.

A lone sentry could be seen guarding the monstrous iron gate, but Demon did not doubt there were more of them inside the gatehouse. For a lone man it would be almost impossible to penetrate the defences of the castle. For an assassin deep in enemy territory it would be tantamount to suicide. But Demon had grown up in Hyrule and spent much of his previous life sneaking into and around the royal residence. Zelda's father had never approved of Link and Zelda's meetings, so he had had to come up with new ways of seeing Zelda. Recalling from memory the lay-out of the castle, Demon headed toward a certain twisty section of the moat.

The darkness was deeper away from the torchlight that surrounded the gates, but Demon could see clearly enough to recognize he was in the right place. Studying the castle wall from across the moat he located a certain section of wall that appeared to be darker than the rest. Fixing its position in his mind the black-cloaked warrior dived into the icy water of the moat, gasping as the cold hit his body. He shut off the discomfort from his mind and began to swim across.

It took him only a few seconds to reach the opposite shore, but Demon was gasping as he hauled himself out of the water. The icy liquid had sapped his strength and numbed his muscles. Crawling to the wall he began to push at the dark patch. Impossibly, it actually seemed to fold into the wall, creating a snug passage for Demon to crawl through. The flap swung back into place behind him, sealing off the secret passage once more from unfriendly eyes.

Link and Zelda had used the passage many times to sneak in and out of the castle, but neither knew who had created the tunnel. It was just as much a mystery as the amazing construction of the castle itself, which was far beyond the means of even the most advanced architects. For once, Demon was thankful for the knowledge Link's memories had given him. It made his job that much easier.

Rough-hewn rock brushed against him on all sides, tearing at Demon's black cloak as he crawled. The walls were damp and slimy, a reminder to how close the water level of the moat was to the tunnel entrance. The passage began to widen out as it came to an end and the walls abruptly fell away. Demon pushed aside the boxes that masked the entrance and stood up in a little used crevice between a guard-tower and the wall. There was barely enough room for him to slip sideways from the narrow alley into the main courtyard. He drew his daggers silently and slipped forward into the darkness. The hunt for retribution had begun.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It was already hours past the evening meal when Zelda retreated to her room. She didn't want to sleep, but wished instead for the comfort of her personal chamber. A sense of unease had been growing on her all day and it was starting to tell on Zelda's happiness. Her room seemed silent and cold, devoid of the warmth and light that usually inhabited it. Even the Hero of Time seemed to be smirking at her from the tapestry.

Impa bustled in, breaking Zelda's musings. She put the clean linen she was carrying aside and turned back to Zelda.

"Are you okay, princess?" she said, concern knitting her features. She stared at Zelda for a moment before light dawned in her eyes. "So you can feel it too then."

"Yes," started Zelda "Evil is stirring."

"It is." whispered Impa "The Cycle is turning. Something has been set in motion priness, although what I do not know."

She paused turning her head toward the curtains that masked Zelda's private balcony. "We will post more guards tomorrow, nothing can be allowed opportunity to harm you Princess."

Zelda frowned. "What about tonight?"

The nurse raised an eyebrow, realizing her charge wasn't joking. "I'll go talk to the guard." Her eyes twinkled "In the meantime, I'm sure Gabriel would be happy to protect you in my absence. I'll send him in."

Zelda blushed, pale rose creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. "I would like that very much."

Impa turned and left, leaving the princess alone with her thoughts. If the Cycle had shifted than a great evil was being loosed upon the world. And she, Zelda, would have to combat it. Her thoughts shifted to the Hero of Time. _Where is he?_ she wondered, trying to conjure up a face in her mind. But instead of getting the courageous hero she wanted, Demon's face appeared as she had last seen it. The despair in his eyes seemed to drill into her head. Desperately she tried to turn her thoughts to happier things, but her concentration was broken as Gabriel walked into the room.

He sat down beside Zelda and kissed her smoothly on the cheek, causing Zelda to blush anew. "What is it that his troubling my Princess?"

Zelda was momentarily annoyed by the note of possession in his voice, but instantly forgot about it as Gabriel twined his fingers through hers.

"I have been sensing...something sick, all day." started Zelda. "And Impa tells me darkness is stirring. Frankly I'm scared. Scared for myself. Scared for Hyrule." She buried her head in Gabriel's shoulder.

"We'll just have to make you forget about it then, won't we?" He hesitated for a moment before coming to a decision in his mind. "I have been wondering for a while when would be the best time to do this, but I can wait no longer." Smoothly, Gabriel pulled his hand from Zelda and dropped to one knee in front of her.

"From the moment I saw you Zelda, you have been the light in my heart. You are my sunrise and sunset, morning and evening. When you were stolen by the Aratians it almost killed me, I never wish to be separated from you ever again. I love you princess and I wish to spend the rest of my days with you...Will you marry me Zelda?"

The princess sat stunned, mouth gaping open as she looked down at the kneeling Gabriel. She surprised herself by hesitating, so often had she dreamed of this moment and now it had come. But something stopped her from giving voice to the words that she had said so often in her sleep.

The door creaked open behind Gabriel, and something heavy hit the floor. Zelda tore her eyes from Gabriel's face and went rigid with shock. Seeing her face, the noble turned and drew his sword. "Who disturbs us." he snarled. His blatant anger made Zelda nervous, the transition between emotion had been like lightening.

The body of her nurse lay crumpled on the floor, a trickle of blood falling from a shallow gash on Impa's temple. The kind of gash made by a blade. Zelda's relief was almost tangible as she realized the nurse was merely unconscious. She looked from Impa to the doorway which was strangely dark. The torches that would usually have lit the corridor had been snuffed out and the strangely shifting shadows hid whatever had pushed Impa into the room.

A figure detached itself from the wall and moved to the centre of the doorway. A cape fluttering down from his shoulders to the floor below. The eyes were the only distinctive feature on the figure, little red dots like embers sparked in their depths.

Gabriel tightened his fists on his sword and moved into a fighting crouch. From the small portion of her mind that wasn't in shock Zelda noticed that the movement actually put herself between Gabriel and the shadowy figure.

"Who's there?" rasped Gabriel, fear dancing in his eyes.

_Demon..._came the reply. A thin whisper that seemed to swirl around the chamber, momentarily flickering the torches. Recognition flared in Gabriel's eyes and his sword began to shake furiously.

"No, you died in the manor." he whispered "You can't be here. It's not possible!"

The shadowy figure advanced, stepping forward into the torchlight over the body of Impa. The twisted knives he held in either hand cast misshapen shadows on the floor. His eyes were locked on Zelda, sucking her into the inferno that was harboured inside them.

Zelda was falling, falling into a dark hole from which there was no way out. This was the Demon she had seen in her dreams. The one that had laughed as blood spattered the air around him. Sparks and broiling shadows danced in his eyes, the blue she had seen in them gone almost entirely.

Demon advance on Gabriel, taking him as the larger threat. Knives whirled in his hands, their flashing edges spinning complex shapes in the torchlight. Abruptly finding himself, Gabriel swung his sword at the approaching warrior. Demon dodged the blow easily and kept coming. An insane grin formed on his features, amplifying the terror his eyes inspired.

Gabriel launched into a whirling attack pattern that would have had most other opponents on their knees. He was known as one of the best swordsman in Hyrule and the title had not been misplaced. The sword appeared to be everywhere at once, slashing and hacking at Demon. Only one successful blow was needed to turn the battle in Gabriel's favour, but one blow was one more than Gabriel would ever get.

Zelda began to scream, a shriek that gave voice to the terror that gripped her. The worst nightmare she had ever had, was fighting right in front of her, against the man she thought she loved.

Gabriel grunted, beginning to sweat under the terrible strain of swinging his heavy sword so fast and hard. "They will not hear you princess, the chamber walls are too thick."

Demon was a blur, an insubstantial shadow that slipped away from even the fastest of Gabriel's strikes. He was darkness itself and the torches seemed to shy away from his presence. A cut appeared on Gabriel's forearm and then another as Demon harried the tiring warrior.

It was only a matter of time Gabriel knew, Demon was inhumanly fast, faster than any man he had ever faced. Something seemed to snap inside of the dark-haired noble. Never in his life had he been so afraid and the new-found terror was beginning to tell. He broke off his attack and looked over at the princess, her wide blue eyes pleading with him to save her. To be her hero.

Gabriel tore his eyes back to Demon and gave the assassin a warrior's salute with his sword. "She's all yours." he whispered and fled out of the room.

Zelda watched Gabriel run, her eyes not really believing what they were seeing. The man who had just professed love for her had run away, leaving his princess with her worst nightmare. "Gabriel," she murmured, "come back, please."

Demon grinned at the stunned princess. Now she knew what it felt like to be betrayed. To have your world turned on end and shattered. He moved, bloody knives ready in his hands. "Now it's just you and me princess," he snarled, the anger flooding his body. Wave of fury crashed together, carrying him on their frothing peaks.

He was slowly walking toward her, his eyes filled with madness and hatred. Zelda was beyond fear, she had reached a level of terror she had never thought possible. The warrior of darkness stopped almost right in front of her, looming down toward Zelda like the angel of shadow he was.

"Why?" she whispered, as he raised one red-stained dagger.

The dagger stopped, frozen in time. "You ordered my death."

Zelda eyes widened, the confusion penetrating her terror. "I did no such thing."

Demon did not seem to hear her. "You were my only hope." The dagger began to rise again.

"What are you talking about? I healed your wound and made Gabriel let you live."

"He came back...under your orders."

Zelda gasped, looking into his eyes "Gabriel, did that?

Doubt flickered briefly in the swirling darkness. "You didn't know."

"No," she murmured "I didn't."

The fires in his eyes flared to life once more. "Shadow and flame" he whispered, bringing his dagger up. He plunged it forward. "Die, Zelda."

The princess closed her eyes, waiting for the piercing pain of the knife. It never came. She looked up at Demon in confusion, fear written plain on her features. Some kind of inner struggle was raging inside the black-cloaked warrior.

_Curse you Link, _Demon raged to himself, the dagger trembling his hand. The last vestiges of the Hero of Time's soul had risen up in response to Demon's attempt on Zelda's life. It was the one thing that could have recalled them from their dark and lonely exile and it did so with vengeance. _Zelda_, the voice whispered. _Zelda_! Demon could see the fear in her blue eyes and hated himself for causing it, but the rage was out of control.

Zelda looked up at Demon and saw little of the blue return to his eyes, some sanity seemed to enter his gaze. She looked at the dagger clutched in his left hand, noticing it's shaking. But something else had caught her attention. The gauntlet on his forearm had been pushed upward during his battle with Gabriel, leaving the back of his hand bare. There, glowing golden, was the triangular symbol of the Triforce. The mark born by the Hero of Time.

Demon followed Zelda gaze to his hand and his eyes widened. "No..." he whispered as the triangle started to glow. The golden aura was matched by the one emanating from Zelda's own Triforce mark. The princess looked up at him with disbelief, it was not possible.

The warrior of darkness backed away, his shaking becoming more and more pronounced. The dagger fell from his left hand clattering to the floor. "Zelda" he whispered, the word sighing through the chamber like a restless ghost. Blind panic exploded in his head, crushing the anger and suffering alike.

_He had tried to kill Zelda_.

Demon turned and fled onto the balcony, trying desperately to escape.

_He had tried to kill Zelda._

He through himself over the rail and began to climb down the wall to the ground. Scrabbling wildly at the rock wall he only managed to get halfway down before he lost his grip and fell.

_He had tried to kill Zelda_

The mantra repeated itself over and over in his head as her ran. The secret tunnel felt his passage and then the Market Town. Hyrule field marked his flight over its expanse, but the Great Forest hid the spot where he finally collapsed.

_He had tried to kill Zelda._


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Zelda stood transfixed where Demon had left her, still staring out the window where his shadowy figure had disappeared. A hazy fog seemed to have cloaked her mind, shock making even simple thoughts confused and difficult. The evil that haunted her nightmares had appeared to kill her, but when Demon had Zelda by the throat, her life in his hand, the black-cloaked warrior had turned tail and fled. She wondered briefly at the look in his eyes as he had fled. There had been terror and pain in his gaze, but also something else. A little bit of blue in a sea of darkness that Zelda thought she recognized. Something had changed in the warrior as he had stood over the princess, with his dagger, but what, Zelda was not certain.

She had found the Hero of Time and in him, the power to destroy evil. Demon was the least likely person Zelda would have ever given the legendary title, but for good or ill, the Hero had been named. She looked over at the tapestry on the wall and compared it to Demon's image in her head, they could not have been more different. For the first time since she had been named the Princess of Destiny, Zelda felt the whole weight of the world on her shoulders. Some-how, she had to band together with that black-cloaked homicidal maniac and defeat an evil which could not be possibly worse than he was.

Zelda picked Demon's dagger up off the floor and studied it's twisted contours. The weapon was warped and skewed, perfectly mirroring its owner's soul. Slightly curved was the blade itself, ideal for slitting throats from behind. Zelda shuddered as she wondered how many souls had poured out their life-blood on the knife she was holding in her hand. It became even worse when she realized how close the dagger had been to adding her name to that list. Turning to the doorway she tucked the dagger into a recess in her gown.

Zelda gasped as her gaze turned to Impa's body on the floor, she had almost forgotten about her nurse! Kneeling at her side the princess cradled the woman's head in her lap. "Impa," she whispered "Please don't die on me.". The princess couldn't bear the thought of losing the beloved nurse who had been her closest friend.

Bitter tears ran down her face as she cried. Zelda's life was turning upside down and she had no way of righting it again. Her nurse was unconscious in her arms and her destiny had betrayed her. Leaning over Impa's still form, hard sobs wracking her body, Zelda could only wonder what was to happen next. The rational part of Zelda's mind slowly kicked in. She had almost been killed. Never in her life had she been so close to death and the revelation scared her.

"I don't think there's any fear of me dying." Impa whispered. "My skull's thicker than the castle walls and twice as hard." She looked sort of bemused from her prone position on the floor. "Stop crying princess or you will ruin your complexion. Did you, by chance, see the one who hit me?"

The look on Zelda's face gave Impa her answer. "It was that man from your dream wasn't it? The one that you met in Lord Arawn's dungeons."

The princess nodded. "He surprised Gab..." Shocked, Zelda cut off her sentence. Gabriel! She had totally forgotten about the nobleman who had betrayed her, ran for his life and left her alone with an assassin. Her eyes narrowed and the tears began to cease as her terror turned to anger.

"That uncouth, slovenly, treacherous son of a gibbering commoner." she snarled, curling her hands into fists.

Impa raised an eyebrow. "I know this may not be the best time princess, but a member of the royal family should not use such language. Even for one so dark as the Demon."

"I wasn't talking about Demon." Zelda muttered. "I was referring to that former suitor of mine. Gabriel abandoned me to the assassin! He ran from the room instead of defending me!"

Impa's eyes narrowed to slits. "He left you alone with Demon? How did you survive?"

Zelda's eyes suddenly drifted far away, a peculiar mix of fear and fascination gracing her features. "Demon was about to kill me, there was no way I could have stopped him. He raised this dagger-" she pulled the weapon from her gown "Above his head and it was like I was looking death in the face. But..."

She paused for a moment, lost in the terror of the memory.

"Then he stopped. It was almost like he became scared himself. He dropped his knife and ran."

Zelda turned her gaze back into Impa's eyes. "He is the Hero of Time Impa." she murmured softly "I saw the mark on his hand"

Impa nodded. "I thought as much princess." The nurse levered herself out of Zelda lap, groaning softly. Congealed blood marked the wound on head, but it was no longer flowing freely. "I think we must consider out next actions carefully. You say Gabriel betrayed you."

Zelda nodded slowly. "He did not run out of fear, he deliberately gave me to the Demon."

"That man is powerful, with many allies. Something is brewing that will change the course of history. The Hero of Time had re-appeared, and our greatest ally has shown himself to be a traitor."

Tears began to form once again in Zelda eyes. "Do you know what he was doing before Demon attacked?" she whispered "He proposed, Impa. Gabriel asked me to marry him and then abandoned me to certain death."

Gabriel had been second to only Hyrule in Zelda's mind. She had loved him, or thought she did for such a long time that she could not imagine life without the brown-haired noble. Ashamed she realized that even after his betrayal, she still wished for Gabriel to come and comfort her. Kiss away her sadness and tell her it was all a mistake.

The fear of Demon's attack was starting to dissipate with his absence. Zelda had never been easily frightened, a life of politics had ensured that and even Demon's attempt on her life could not cow her for long. She had been more scared of his presence than anything, and now that he was gone her reason was reasserting itself.

Impa slowly helped Zelda to her feet. "It seems I have gravely misjudged the situation, princess. I knew there was a rebel faction in Hyrule who wanted you deposed, how else did the Aratians kidnap you so easily? But I never knew that one such as Gabriel would be involved. We must leave the castle for a while and observe the reaction of the other nobles. See who is with you and who against you. You are no longer safe here."

Clenching her fists, the princess' eyes flashed. "I'm not leaving that traitor alive Impa! I will not concede victory to Gabriel!"

"We don't have a choice. Most of the castle guard are from Gabriel's own regiment. He controls them princess, not you, and he's also been replacing nobles within the court with his own people. You gave him the authority remember? You signed the documents last fall."

"I trusted him! A traitor!"

"_We _trusted him. Too much. Please Zelda, you must listen to me!"

Zelda started at Impa's use of her name. The nurse had always called her "princess", never before had she used her actual name.

"I cannot take you to a human settlement, faces such as our are too recognizable inside Hyrule." continued Impa. "Neither can we seek refuge with a non-human faction, the Gorons or Zoras, they would not want to meddle in our political strife and would likely turn us right back over to Gabriel."

Zelda started at Impa's reference to the other sentient creatures who lived in Hyrule. The Gorons were giant boulder-like creatures who ate rocks and lived in the mountains. Zelda had only ever seen one during the annual embassy to Death-mountain, the Goron's ancestral home. Zoras were the polar opposite of the Gorons. The were a primarily aquatic people with thin lithe bodies and cat-like grace. Zelda had heard of them only in legend, but she knew they existed somewhere in Hyrule.

"Where can we go?" Zelda asked "You've just about ruled out every possibility except the Gerudo's and Goddess help me I am not going to them for aid." The Gerudo race of warrior women had a rather stormy relationship with the royal family. In the last few years it had almost developed into a feud. Zelda did not want to know what the Gerudo would do if she showed up at their desert fortress, but it would probably not be in her best interest to find out.

"We must go to the Lost Woods and speak the spirit of the forest, the Great Deku Tree. Only he can tell us what to do from there. Whatever had happened this night, Princess, is the beginning of a new rotation in the Cycle. Evil has awakened and we must be there to fight it."

The nurse hurried over to the princess's bed and began to pack necessities into a small satchel. She turned her head to Zelda and looked over her attire, "Go change into something you can travel in, princess. We have a long road ahead of us and a frilly gown like that one will just slow us down. Hurry!"

Zelda ran to her wardrobe and opened the great wooden doors. So many times she had stood in the same position, she mused, picking out clothing for state visits or formal balls. Never had she come before those doors with as many worries as she did know. Banishing the melancholy threat from her mind she rummaged deep into the back of the wardrobe, looking for one of the few secrets she had managed to conceal from Impa.

Pulling the outfit into the light she paused to admire it. Impa, looking up from her preparations on the bed, raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I was informed of _that _purchase, princess."

Zelda shifted the traditional Sheikan outfit from side to side guiltily. "I guess I...never found time to tell you."

The nurse walked over to Zelda and took the suit from her hands, admiring the quality. Traditionally, Impa's people the Sheika's, wore long bands of white cloth wrapped tightly around their body. Even the face of a Sheika was kept covered, only the eyes could be seen through the white cocoon.

Zelda's outfit was no exception, it was true to the Sheika guidelines in every way. The princess dressed hurriedly, taking care to leave her head uncovered. She knew it was dangerous to do so, but she could not bring herself to traverse her own castle in disguise. That would be admitting something had drastically changed and Zelda didn't want to think about that yet.

Impa walked over to Zelda's hearth and pressed one of the Triforce symbols engraved upon it. The whole wall swung open, revealing a secret passage Zelda had never known existed. Impa gave he a smug smile. "There are many things you do not know about this castle, princess." she said in response to Zelda's silent question. "Now follow me."

The nurse spun and began walking down the secret corridor. Noticing Zelda's hesitation she looked back over her shoulder. "Come on Princess!"

Zelda was looking off into space, staring sightlessly forward. "I just can't believe he would betray me." she whispered. "Gabriel seemed to be such a good man, I wish..."

Impa's look softened. "We shall see princess, maybe this is all a mistake." She gestured for Zelda to follow her and this time the princess did so.

They moved quickly through the passage Impa had unveiled, a torch they had found at the entrance lighting their path. Impa had closed the passage from the inside, effectively shutting them off from the rest of the castle. The passage was remarkably clean from what Zelda could see. Only a layer of dust on the floor showed how little it was used.

Impa led the princess through a series of turns and intersection, slowly working her way upward into the higher floors of the noble's quarters. Zelda wondered exactly where Impa was taking her, they were definitely not heading for an escape.

The former Shiekah finally stopped behind a door like the one that had led into Zelda's room. She turned to face the princess, her features distorted by the flickering torchlight. Shadows danced across her figure, making her very hard to distinguish against the dark passage wall.

"From here on you must be silent princess. This door leads right behind a tapestry in Gabriel's chamber. Any movement or sound could betray our presence."

She turned to open the door, but Zelda stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"This door leads to Gabriel's chamber? What madness would make us want to enter?"

Impa turned her attention back to the princess. "You said you wanted assurance of Gabriel's treachery, there's only one way to confirm it."

The blood drained slowly from Zelda's face. "You cannot make me speak to him. I won't allow it."

"I don't think you will have to." Impa muttered. "I think he will confirm it without your help."

The nurse eased the door open and stepped silently through, motioning Zelda after her. She pulled the passage closed after the princess had stepped through, but left it slightly ajar. Who knew what sort of quick getaway the two might need?

The tapestry they were behind was a blood-red color and it fell almost to the floor, golden tassels from its border effectively concealing the small section that it left uncovered. Zelda hardly dared to move as she stood pressed up against the rough stone wall. She could hear nothing from the other side of the curtain, but she knew someone had been speaking and was about to speak once more. Zelda and the nurse had stepped into the middle of a conversation. A conversation that would prove to be pivotal for Zelda's future and the well-being of Hyrule.

From her position behind the curtain Zelda could sense three presences in the room. From the obvious power she felt one of those presences was Gabriel, but the other two were a mystery. The sound of Gabriel's voice echoed through the chamber as he began to speak.

"In view of these complication we cannot continue with the original plan. I had hoped to marry the princess and gain public support before revealing myself, but that is no longer possible. Too much had been revealed to the princess, she must be removed."

There was a pause in the speech as if Gabriel was evaluating his listeners.

"You two have served my family for as long as I can remember, it is time today to prove the depth of your loyalty. Go to the princess's royal chambers and kill whoever you find there. Our master will be pleased with your actions."

Zelda closed her eyes as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She had it out of his own mouth. Gabriel, despite all of his promises and kisses, wanted her dead. A hollow seemed to open up inside of her as all the warm memories of moments shared with Gabriel melted away. Too much had happened to the princess during a few short hours. It was starting to overwhelm her.

A gravelly voice that was not Gabriel's replied with a smooth "As you wish." accompanied by the sound of bowing. Two sets of boots left the room, leaving Gabriel alone with the concealed listeners. Zelda tried to dig herself deeper into the wall, unnerved by the close proximity of her former suitor.

There was the sound of a chair being pulled across the carpet and a shallow thump as Gabriel sat down. An bottle was uncorked and the sound of liquid being poured could be heard even behind the heavy tapestry.

"Ah, Zelda," Gabriel began "would that things had turned out otherwise."

Zelda went stiff with shock behind the tapestry. He could not possibly know she was here. Neither she nor her nurse had made a sound since entering the chamber. There had been nothing to alert the lord to their presence.

"Maybe you soul is watching me now," Gabriel mused " Wondering why I did what I did."

Zelda almost collapsed with relief. The man had no idea she was in the vicinity, he was only talking to the shadows. Despite her hesitations she leaned almost imperceptibly closer, hanging on Gabriel's every word.

"You were a beautiful women Zelda and I do love you, but other priorities are more important than my fancies. I regret your fate at the hands of that hellish murderer, but better your blood on his hands than on mine. Although it is ironic that the Hero of Time murdered the Princess of Destiny. Somewhat tragic.."

The Princess of Destiny narrowed her eyes in confusion. How had he known Demon was the Hero? In her mind, the man's list of betrayals lengthened.

"You are dead Zelda and with you the opportunities and risks of your life. Hyrule will need a new leader in the face of your untimely demise. A ruler with the strength of will and foresight that you lacked."

Zelda could hear Gabriel's harsh laugh vibrating against the tapestry. "When the loyal citizenry of Hyrule hear of their beloved princess's death they will discover that you and I were to be married. By the ancient laws of Hyrule, our betrothal will designate me as the rightful ruler. The people will assume that you, Zelda, by giving me your hand in marriage, entrusted me with the kingship. Of course, the Aratians will be pleased when I give them Hyrule on a platter."

Everything was quiet as Gabriel prepared to reveal his betrayal of Hyrule to the empty air. The man was oblivious to all around him, engaged in a one-sided conversation with what he believed to be Zelda's deceased spirit.

"You see princess, a place in the Aratian nobility has much more... promise than the throne of a backward country like Hyrule. They have offered me anything I wish to betray Hyrule to their tender affections. And my master will be pleased that I have attained such rank when he returns."

The man sighed, the victory leaving his tone for a moment. "The things we do for power. Oh Zelda, if only…" The tone hardened. "But I have no regrets. I cannot!"

There was a short pause as the noble savoured the moment.

"Long live King Gabriel" he cried, the note of triumph obvious in his voice.

Zelda gasped, her knees going weak with shock. The full extent of Gabriel's plan finally revealing itself to her. The man was going to seize the throne of Hyrule, Zelda's rightful property and turn it over to the Aratia. Nothing was as disgusting as a traitor to his own country and Zelda felt the anger twist inside of her. Gabriel was trying to go against everything that she stood for, destroy the very things that Zelda had spent her life defending. A small hiss escaped her lips, a momentary slip from the absolute silence she had been practising, but it was enough.

Gabriel whirled to face the heavy red tapestry, sword appearing almost magically in his hand. "Who goes there?" he snarled and whipped the tapestry aside. His expression froze in shock as he recognized Impa and Zelda cowering against the wall.

"How..." he whispered, for a moment regret was visible on his face, but then it was gone. "It seems that I have under-estimated you princess." Gabriel smirked. "How you escaped I won't ask, it does not matter."

Gabriel raised his sword above his head. "Prepare to die, beloved."

Zelda stood frozen, locked in the moment. The man she though she loved raised the sword above his head in the preparation for a mortal strike. Metal glinted briefly in the torch-light as the weapon began to descend toward the cowering princess.

She was going to die, Zelda knew that it was too late to save herself. All of the betrayals and events of the night had finally culminated and the princess knew she could not escape. She had often wondered about what one would think of in the last seconds before life was snuffed from the body. What your soul would turn to when all other worries vanished. Somehow, Zelda found herself visualizing Demon in her mind, his blue-eyed stare captivating her mind. He was the Hero of Time, she marvelled, all along.

Gabriel's blade came down, preparing to plunge itself into Zelda's soft flesh, a weapon eager for blood. It's wickedly sharpened tip drove downward, but a flash of purple intercepted it's thrust. Zelda stared horrified at Impa's torso, impaled on the end of Gabriel's sword. The former Sheika was pierced all the way through, the tip of the weapon visible out her back as she grappled with the noble. Gabriel struggled wildly to free himself from Impa's failing grip, but for the moment he was held fast.

"Find him." hissed Impa, blood soaking through her clothing.

Finally breaking out of her horrified reverie, Zelda scrabbled wildly for the edge of the secret door behind her. Swinging it open she threw herself through the opening and then slammed the barrier shut. She couldn't stop running, flying wildly threw the secret passages. Impa was dead and with her Zelda's last connection to her parent's and her previous life. Her nurse, her country and her love had been lost to Gabriel, nothing was left. But even in the darkest reaches of her despair she found new hope.

_Find him_ Impa had said. Find the Hero Of Time. Zelda felt the calling in her soul. It had been Impa's dying wish and Zelda would honour it. A new purpose filled the princess's step as she began to head downward, somewhere at the bottom of the castle she would find an exit. The Great Deku Tree was waiting and somewhere out there Demon was too.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Zelda crouched low, staring at the giant gates that guarded entrance and exit from the castle. Behind her, she could hear the shouts of discovery and anger as Gabriel's men picked up her trail. How had things come to this? Just a few hours before the princess had been ruler of the country she loved, secure in her position as monarch. Now Zelda was running for her life, disguised as a commoner.

The secret passages in the castle had ended at the edge of the foundation, inside one of the courtyards. Obviously, they were only meant for travel inside the palace grounds. Zelda knew that to escape the castle wall was almost impossible due to the formidable defences that encompassed it. Nothing and no-one could escape it's forbidding walls without consent. But somehow Demon had done it, that much Zelda was certain of. Despite all the obstacles, the black-cloaked warrior had managed to escape and Zelda was determined to follow his example.

The princess froze against a wall deep in the shadows as a few of Gabriel's soldiers ran past to secure the gates. She heard their conversation with the gate sentinels from her hidden position.

"A traitor has murdered the princess Zelda and her nurse Impa!" the man proclaimed, filled with the power of his message.

The guard on top of the gate gave a strangled sob of disbelief. "The princess," he whispered "is...dead?" He clutched the parapet in front of him for support.

"Treacherously murdered by an assassin." Gabriel's man replied. He paused and then overran the other man's heart-felt cries of grief.

"Her killer is still somewhere in the castle and is trying to escape. He has taken the guise of a shiekah. He must not be allowed to live."

The Hylian guard tightened his grip on his spear. "He will not pass here without dealing with me."

"The assassin is clever. He has a certain magic at his disposal that will make him appear in the guise of some-one else. He can take the features of anyone he wishes...even the princess Zelda."

"But how do we know-"

"She's dead! Accept it! I have seen both the body and the assassin, and I warn you the Lord Gabriel has sworn to behead any man who let's her killer escape!"

The guard nodded. "I trust you sir." he replied, dark hatred glinting in his eyes. "The murderer will pay."

Zelda's heart swelled as she heard the raw pain in the man's voice. That man at least, was loyal to her and Hyrule. Too bad he would kill her on sight. It was impossible to get out of the palace without dealing with the gate-guard and it was impossible to get close enough to the sentry to knock him out. Killing one of her own looked to be Zelda's only option, but it was the one that the princess was duty-bound not to take.

What would Impa have done? The question burned its way into the princess's mind. Somehow the Sheikan nurse had been going to escape the castle. Probably the same way that Demon did through some sort of secret exit. That passage was the key to Zelda's escape, but she had no way of finding it.

Her gaze turned to the dirt below her. Most of the courtyard was floored with cobble-stone, but Zelda's position in the shadows was beyond the edge of the stones. The princess shifted sideway, still angrily staring at the dirt. Her back scraping against the rough stones , until suddenly the wall behind her fell away. She stumbled backward before falling heavily onto the unforgiving ground.

"Graceful, princess." Zelda muttered sarcastically to herself as she got up. She placed a hand on the ground to support herself, but froze as her gaze found a footprint almost directly in front of her. It was wildly smeared as if the maker had been running desperately from an unseen menace. Light dawned in the princess's eyes as she stared at the impression.

"Demon" she whispered and whirled around to follow the trail down the short alley. Halting abruptly the princess stared at the solid wall in front of her. The running track continued right up to the wall and then disappeared, almost as if Demon had suddenly grown wings and flew away. Zelda approached the wall and ran her fingers along it desperately, it must be some sort of secret passage, she thought. It had to be.

Her probing fingers could uncover no secrets in the unforgiving stone, nothing to give the impression of a door or passage. Zelda kept trying, running her long tapered fingers along its surface. Demon could not just have disappeared, he was supernatural character surely, but he had not been granted the gift of flight.

Despite all her efforts, the wall failed to reveal anything out of the ordinary. Zelda pounded a clenched fist on the rock in despair, she had been disappointed once again. Everywhere she turned hope was wrenched from her grip, in mere hours everything she held dear had been taken from her. And even now, Demon had slipped beyond her grasp one last time. Somehow finding a path that Zelda could not tell. For the first time since Impa was murdered, Zelda wondered if Gabriel was going to win.

Harsh cawing broke the silence off to the princess's right. Zelda shied away from the sound, straining her eyes to identify its maker. Her fear quickly dissolved as the spotted a raven in the shadows, disturbed by her presence. It had become so late that it was almost first-light and the birds were starting to come out.

Tearing her eyes from the bird, Zelda started in disbelief. There behind the bird was a narrow passage leading out of the dead-end alley and right in the middle of it's narrow width was another footprint.

***

Castle-town was almost completely silent, just beginning to awaken from sleep as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon. Zelda kept to the receding shadows as she crept furtively through the back-alleys. She had to leave the city before Gabriel's troops discovered her escape from the castle, but the princess had not yet discovered how. The gates did not open till dawn, and she had no means of transportation in the great field beyond.

Zelda ducked behind a discarded crate as an early-riser passed her by, even under her disguise she felt naked in the eyes of her fellow Hylians. Unrecognizable she might be, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Every person she met might be a servant of Gabriel and it was better to hide than risk discovery.

The princess worked her way slowly through the awaking town, picking her way toward the royal stables. She would need a mount to traverse Hyrule Field, on foot she would be too tempting a target for the local monsters. The thought of how dangerous Hyrule had become caused Zelda's eyes to cloud, it was a painful reality that she could not travel unguarded in her own country.

The last few years had brought trouble and darkness for the land of Hyrule. Creatures of evil that had not been seen in years had awakened and re-infested the lands. Tales of fear and terror could be heard in even the most sheltered villages, stories of monsters and fell beasts. Impa had called it the mark of the Cycle and declared it an unavoidable evil. A mark that showed the return of darkness to Hyrule and the surrounding countries.

The wooden gates of the stables were locked, but their low wooden barrier was a simple matter for Zelda to scale. She found herself thanking the Goddesses for the Sheikan pants she wore instead of the more traditional bulky skirts. The freedom of the garments was astounding, allowing her more flexibility than anything she had previously known. The elaborate gowns that were necessary for the princess's royal image were uncomfortable and stifling, making even the simplest action difficult and Zelda was glad to be out of them. She derived a certain amount of guilty pleasure from the feeling of nakedness the Sheikan suite gave her, but her light-heartedness was quickly quelled as her thoughts returned to her situation.

The princess could not stay in Castle-town without being discovered in a matter of days. The city was too small to offer effective concealment from Gabriel's lackeys. Impa had told her to continue to the Lost Woods, but to venture there without proper supplies would mean almost certain death. Zelda wracked her brain for a suitable refuge, finally coming up with a small ranch which lay right outside Castle-town boundaries. The search would not extend past the city itself for several days, giving Zelda enough time to rest and recover. Besides, one of Zelda's closest friends resided on the small ranch and the princess did not think she could face her exile alone.

She pressed her back up against the rough wooden gate as a platoon of Hyrule's finest soldiers rushed by. "Death to the princess-killer!" one roared, shaking his sword in the air. Their revenge-crazed spirits seemed to radiate from within them, dark energy lacing their bodies. The soldiers were intent only on shedding blood, all other duties had been forgotten.

Zelda shuddered as she heard the group rush by. All of them had been told the assassin they were looking for had taken the guise of their deceased princess. If she were to step out among them she would not last long enough to scream. Gabriel had turned the level-minded army of Hyrule into a fanatical killing machine. Zelda clenched her fists, the man had a lot to answer for.

She continued on into the stables, going right to the stalls reserved for the royal mounts. Her horse, Destiny, came forward to welcome her, his bright shiny eyes untroubled by the betrayal and fear that lay heavy on Zelda. The princess almost laughed as his warm nose nuzzled her shoulder affectionately. Destiny was a reassuring constant during a time of devastating change.

According to the royal breeders, Destiny was the one of the best horses that had been seen in generations, one of an ancient line that were said to be descended from the mother of horses herself. He could outrun any other steed in Hyrule and keep that same pace for hours at a time without pushing himself. Larger, stronger and more intelligent than any other horse, Destiny was a God among mortals. It was like riding the wind, Zelda had once thought to herself, to be in his saddle.

Their greeting over, Zelda saddled Destiny and led him out of his stall. The big animal responded immediately to the princess's every motion, his trust in her absolute. She slowly guided him out into the courtyard before filling his saddlebags with various provisions and tools she had scrounged in the stables. Zelda didn't know how long they would be on the run, but she wanted to be prepared.

She mounted Destiny with the easy grace of a seasoned rider and kicked him into a dead run toward the low gate. "Might as well leave in style." Zelda muttered as Destiny easily jumped the barrier.

The street was strangely silent for mid-morning, none of the usual pedestrians graced the walkways and the merchants were yet to be seen. Gabriel's devastating news of the princess's death had obviously stunned the citizenry. Only the muffled sound of a child's crying broke the silence, his wails calling to the stony walls.

Zelda had hoped to bring Destiny to a slow walk and move through Castle-town without attracting attention, the merchant crowd would have easily confused the guards enough to allow her to escape unnoticed. But as she looked around at the utterly deserted street Zelda knew a change of plan was in order. Urging Destiny into a gallop the princess rode hard for the gates, hoping to make out of the city before any of the roving patrols spotted her.

Destiny slid wildly around corners, racing through the narrow streets of Castle-town. Zelda could tell that her was thoroughly enjoying the run, nostrils flaring as he stretched to reach new speeds. The princess like the feeling of exhilaration herself, but knew it was only a matter of time before the soldiers found them.

A patrol spilled out in front of Destiny from a concealed side-street, soldiers milling in confusion as Zelda bore down on them. The princess urged her horse on faster, steering him for the middle of the patrol. Destiny scattered the men like chaff to the winds, jumping the ones too slow to get out of his path.

Soldiers threw themselves to the ground, terror overcoming them as the white-clad apparition rode into their midst. Men cowered and prayed to the Goddesses, beseeching the deities to save them from the ghostly figure atop the horse. It wasa full ten minutes before the first of the soldiers slowly dragged himself to his feet, finding to his great relief that horse and rider were gone. He glanced reluctantly in the direction that they had disappeared and seemed to weigh something in his mind. The other soldiers stopped cowering and looked up at him with fear shining in their eyes.

The first man paused before delivering his orders. "Uh... Let's continue on patrol." The relief was palpable among the rest of the soldiers, no-one particularly wanted to chase a figure which looked like it came from the underworld. Let the next patrol deal with it. The marching figures continued through the streets, a little warier then before.

Zelda almost laughed as Destiny turned a corner and the patrol disappeared from view. The had been trampling each other trying to get out of her way, not a single one had even tried to stop her. It was a sight that would have had her doubled over in mirth if it had not been for the absolute terror in the eyes of the men. Zelda did not like having people fear her and those soldiers had been absolutely terrified. They would have done anything to get her to leave.

A thought struck her suddenly, almost making her lose her grip on Destiny's reigns. _That's Demon's life_, she realized, the revelation astounding her. The black-cloaked warrior had to deal with the fear he inspired where-ever he went. Of course, in his case it was his own fault her inspired terror, but Zelda wondered if he actually enjoyed it as much as he tried to make it look.

Destiny rounded the final corner and galloped down the main boulevard toward the gate. A group of Gabriel's soldier were just in the act of raising the drawbridge, so intent on their task they didn't notice the lone rider racing toward them. Zelda bent low over her horse's main, urging Destiny forward with all her might. This was her last chance to escape, if they got the drawbridge up she was as good as captured.

The soldiers finally noticed the approaching rider and stepped up their efforts, frantically pulling on the great wheel which pulled up the drawbridge. The tip of the long wooden bridge rose steadily in the air, fast approaching the point where crossing would become impossible. Sensing that success was near the soldiers began to warily turn toward the lone rider who was still galloping desperately toward the drawbridge.

Destiny was flying, a streak of dark brown mixed with Zelda's pure white attire. They raced past the gate guards and onto the bridge itself, Destiny's hooves finding almost impossible purchase on the rough wood. Reaching the end of the bridge and just about to lose his footing Destiny hurled his body off the edge in a desperate attempt to prevail. He flew through the air, propelled over the edge of the drawbridge by what seemed to be pure willpower.

Zelda was caught in the glory of the moment, her hair trailing behind her in a golden streak. Her exultation was short-lived though as the force of Destiny's jump dissipated and they began to fall. It was nearly a ten foot drop to the ground, enough to break even the strongest horse's legs, but the impact was dampened by the tranquil waters of the moat. Lucky for Destiny, Castle-town had one of the widest moats of any city in Hyrule, rivalled only by Hyrule Castle itself.

Soaking wet, Zelda slowly dragged herself from the water and collapsed onto the bank. The chill late-Autumn air, began to take its toll upon her, causing shivers to race up and down her body. The long blonde hair that had moment's before floated like a dazzling halo around her now hung in long tangled strands. Impa would have said I looked like a drowned rat, Zelda thought, the memory of her nurse bringing unbidden tears to her eyes.

Beside the princess, Destiny emerged from the moat, streams of water running of his hide. In Zelda's eyes he looked every inch a king among horses, even soaking wet. She raised a hand and rubbed his flank tenderly, enjoying the close bond that was shared by horse and rider. It was a quiet moment in what had been an extremely hectic day.

The sound of the drawbridge being lowered rudely interrupted Zelda's reflection. Obviously, Gabriel's men were coming to give chase. Zelda quickly jumped onto Destiny's back, urging the horse forward. If it was a chase they wanted, a chase they would get. Destiny was the fastest horse in Hyrule, nothing Gabriel had could touch him.

By the time the first mounted soldier had touched land Zelda was a receding dot in the distance. By the time the entire patrol had organized themselves and begun the chase, the princess was already far out of reach. Gabriel had lost her and it was mistake that would hurt him dearly in the future.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Destiny finally slowed to a stop outside a giant establishment, Zelda knew as Lon Lon Ranch. It was the one haven without monsters in the whole of Hyrule field and the princess had visited it often. A great wall ran around the perimeter of the ranch to keep out unwanted visitors, but the place itself gave off a friendly and inviting feel the people liked.

Zelda was exhausted from her long ride and the stressful events of the past day. She had just realized that she hadn't slept in nearly two days and could barely keep her eyes open. Summoning up her remaining strength, Zelda slammed her fist into the gate, causing a great hollow boom that emanated throughout the ranch. Her energy expended the princess, slumped forward and began to slide out of the saddle.

The gates slid open with minimal groaning and the owner of the ranch appeared behind them. He was a great black-haired man with a propensity to snooze and a pleasant disposition. His name was Talon, but he had always insisted on Zelda calling him "Uncle", an informal title for a person not used to protocol or ceremony.

The man's face creased with worry as he rushed forward to help Zelda out of the saddle. "Highness? Why are you- What's happened?"

Zelda was fading slowly into a dark tunnel, one from which there was no escape. The last thing she saw was Talon's concerned face before she collapsed against him. Her eyes closed and for the first time in days, everything was forgotten.

***

_Demon was running, flying through the shadowy remains of some long forgotten ruins. He was sprinting as hard as he could, but still he could not escape the shapes that haunted him at every turn. They bounded through the darkness behind him, voices chillingly compelling as they called to him._

_ "Kill" they whispered, thinly veiled insanity permeating their voices. "Kill them all" The shadowy figures advanced, all of Demon's efforts failing to keep them at bay._

_ The black-clad warrior kept running, dodging obstacles and debris. A tall sombre building appeared, barely visible in the darkness. Seeing the temple-like structure Demon ran straight for it. He stretched out into a final push which kept him just ahead of the advancing shapes. It was not a speed he could hold for long._

_ The creatures leapt and flew through the night that was their domain. Slowly hideous forms were becoming apparent were before there had been just shadow._

_ "Kill...Kill...Kill" the endless mantra repeated. Demon looked wildly over his shoulder, pure terror evident on his face. He reached the building and threw himself between the gates in a final attempt to evade the creatures. Looking around wildly for a place to hide, Demon continued running. The creatures gathered at the doorway, their endlessly repeating chant echoing through the vaulted ceiling._

_ The shadows condensed further, grotesque shapes apparent in the dim light. Creatures of underworld slunk forward with fires burning in their slitted pupils._

"_Kill" they whispered, as the first few began to advance. "Kill them."_

_ A pedestal materialized in front of Demon. It was inscribed with the ancient text of Hyrule and a sword was buried in the depths of the stone. If possible, Demon seemed to be more scared of the sword than the shadow-creatures. He backed up stumbling until his back pressed up against the wall of the chamber._

_ "No," he mumbled, "I will not... not again."_

_ The creatures advance, forming a circle around Demon. They were horrendously twisted, mockeries and shades from a hellish dimension. "Join us," they whispered "Come back to the shadows. Forget."_

_ Indecision flickered in Demon's eyes; he took a hesitant step toward them. There was colossal pain in his gaze and the smouldering fires began to flare up once again.. The blue receded, falling back into darkness._

_ The creatures beckoned triumphantly, reaching out toward the black-cloaked warrior. "We can free you. Teach you how to kill them all. All the mockers. All the scoffers... Even her..."_

_ Demon went rigid, his body snapping back from the shadows. The blue flooded back into his gaze and he seemed to glow, the light driving the unearthly figures back. He took a step to the side and, wrapping his hands around the hilt of the sword buried in the pedestal, drew it with an ease that suggested familiarity. Striking forward, he swung wildly at the darkness._

_ "You will not touch her." her roared, the command rolling across the giant chamber. The light expanded slowly, driving the demons back out of the building. As it expanded the golden aura accelerated, illuminating farther and farther from its point of origin. The shadowy figures disappeared, melting into the receding darkness, leaving Demon with his victory. "You belong to us!" one last whisper floated through the temple. _

_***_

Zelda gasped, her eyes snapping open as she threw the sweat-soaked sheets off of her. Looking wildly around at her surrounding it took her awhile to re-orient herself. The dream had been one of the most realistic she had ever had and she had honestly believed that it was Demon and not a dream shape she had been watching.

The princess wondered whether Demon had had the same dream or vision as it surely was. The shadow creatures were obviously after him, wraiths that spawned the anger that controlled Demon. Anger that turned him into a sadistic killer from the darkest nightmares. Zelda realized suddenly that Demon was in fact almost two different personalities. On the occasions that she had seen the black-cloaked warrior his gaze had almost always been tortured and insane, swirling fire in a sea of darkness. It was at such times that the Demon was in control.

The Hero of Time it seemed was strongest when his eyes were blue. Zelda had seen the piercing blue eyes in her dream, staring out of the man who could wield the Master-sword, legendary weapon of Evil's Bane, at will. She shivered at the Hero's resemblance to the tapestry in her room at the palace. It was almost as if it had been made in Demon's image...but no, it couldn't have been. Shaking the thoughts out of her head Zelda prepared to rise. She had more important things to dwell on. Like finding supplies, she chided herself, and warning the ranch-dwellers of Gabriel's betrayal.

The princess swung her legs off the bed and got slowly to her feet, joints and muscles stiff from her long ride. She stretched slowly and tried to work the knots out of her protesting body. Turning to the mirror she sighed as she surveyed the wreck staring back at her.

The lack of sleep had made her cheeks hollow and eyes sunken, emphasizing the dark circles which ringed them. Her hairs immersion in the dirty moat water had left it in tangled strand which hung limply to her waist. Even her lips, usually full and red, had turned a pasty shade of rose. All in all, it wasn't a very encouraging sight.

The door behind Zelda creaked open and the princess turned to survey her visitor. It was a medium-height red-haired girl with Zelda's willowy build. Unlike Zelda, her looks showed a certain amount of upkeep, but the worry in her eyes was almost as deep as that of Zelda.

"Princess," she started "You aren't supposed to be out of bed!" The girl took Zelda's arms and led the still unsteady blonde over to the bed and sat her down. Taking the other chair she studied the exhaustion and fear that were apparent in the princess's countenance. "And you look like a horde of moblins beat you senseless! Where are your guard?"

"He will be coming for me," Zelda started, her eyes darting around the room. "I must be gone before he arrives or else I am lost." Her hands clenched into fists on the blankets. "I will not let him have Hyrule!"

The red-haired girl shook her head in confusion. "Who is chasing you and what has happened? I don't understand, princess."

"He has betrayed us all. To think I ever trusted him...That man must be held accountable for his crimes!"

Malon looked beseechingly at Zelda "You're not making any sense. Calm down before you collapse again!"

Zelda's eyes softened for a moment, her thoughts of revenge gone. "I'm sorry Malon; it's been a hard few days. Ever since that night..." she shuddered and drew her knees up to her chest. "Demon" she whispered.

"Demon? asked Malon, really confused now. "Is he chasing you princess?"

"It's Zelda, Malon," muttered the golden-haired princess, her train of thought broken. "You're my best friend, not my handmaid." She took a deep breath and tried to relate the situation to Malon. "Gabriel had betrayed me and Hyrule. He plans to give the country to the Aratians in exchange for a spot in their nobility. He..." Zelda's voice cracked and tears threatened to spring to her eyes. "He killed Impa." She looked down at her knees, ashamed to be admitting how wrong she had been about her former suitor.

"Gabriel has betrayed you?" Malon started in a shocked whisper "But he loved you!"

Zelda nodded bitterly, the tears starting to come. "I though so too." she whispered.

Malon leaned over and put her arms around the princess. "I'm sorry." she soothed, trying to comfort Zelda "I truly am."

Zelda melted into Malon's embrace, drawing solace from her friend. It was one thing to know Gabriel had betrayed her, another thing to face it. The world seemed bleak, but for once she had a friend to face the darkness with her.

Pulling herself together was a difficult task, but Zelda somehow managed to accomplish it. She dried the tears from her eyes and lifted her head to meet Malon's gaze, her blue eyes drawing comfort from the farm-girl's green ones. After a moment, the red-haired girl drew back to her former position, ready to continue listening to Zelda's narration.

"Who is this Demon?" asked Malon, trying to turn the conversation away from Gabriel.

Remembering her dream, Zelda shuddered once more, her eyes focusing on something far out of the confines of the small room. "Demon is...the greatest warrior I have ever met and also the most troubled soul I have ever encountered. His is the Hero of Time... and also a blood-thirsty murderer."

The princess paused before continuing, trying to organize her thoughts. "The man is a walking contradiction in all ways possible. I first met him in a dream, a dream that showed him murdering a woman. He next appeared trying to save my life when I was kidnapped by the Aratians."

Malon leaned forward, attempting to sort out what the princess was telling her. "This killer is the Hero of Time? How is that possible, the Hero is supposed to be perfect!"

Zelda leaned back and sighed, her tangled blonde hair falling behind her to brush the bed sheets. "I don't know Malon; there was a time in the prison cell at Arawn's manor where I believed he would give his life to save me. Somewhere inside Demon is the bravery and kindness that symbolize the Hero of Time, but they are buried very deep"

The princess looked Malon straight in the eyes, fear growing once again in her eyes as she started to speak once more. "He came to the castle on the night Gabriel betrayed me, an assassin out for blood. He came to kill me, that much is clear, but somehow... he failed. Not out of lack of skill, he penetrated all the castle defences and had me helpless in my room." Zelda shuddered and Malon put a comforting hand on the princess's shoulder. "His eyes are terrible," the blond-haired girl continued "full of fire and darkness."

Malon moved over to sit beside Zelda on the bed. "You're sure you're okay, princess? Maybe you should rest before you tell me any more."

Zelda squared her shoulders and seemed to drag herself back to the present. "No, I'm alright...and don't call me princess. Where was I?"

"You said Demon tried to kill you..."

"He didn't try, if he did I would be dead. Someone of Demon's skill does not fail." The faraway look came back into the princess's eyes and Malon gripped her arm tighter, trying to draw some of the pain and fear from the other girl. "It looked like he had awakened from a dream. He lost all the fury, all the insane anger and something seemed to change."

She paused for a moment before continuing. "I don't think he's truly evil Malon. I think something's wrong...almost like he's possessed. He's not called Demon for nothing. Shaking her head quietly she continued with her narration. "He turned and ran so fast I could barely see it, but he dropped this." She pulled the dagger Demon had discarded out of her Sheikan body-suit.

Malon gasped, her hands clenching into fists beside her. A single tear formed and slid slowly down her cheek. "That was his?" she muttered gesturing to the dagger.

Zelda frowned, confused at the ranch-girl's reaction. "Yes, it's one of a pair. Why?"

Malon sat rigidly on the bend, her voice quavering as something like hatred entered it. "You remember Nathan don't you?

"I believe so." started the princess, still confused. "He was your future husband wasn't he? Went off to seek his fortune so he could care for you."

"We never heard from him again." sobbed Malon, openly breaking down. "He travelled across the border into Aratia and completely disappeared."

Zelda remembered that, how Malon had cried for weeks, locking herself in her room and refusing to come out. She put an arm around the weeping redhead, reversing the roles that they had been playing moments before.

"They found his body in one of the bigger cities." Malon whispered. "It was fresh, like he had been murdered moments before. Multiple stab-wounds, blood everywhere." The girl paused for a moment, trying to control the emotions raging inside of her. "That knife," she said, pointing at the one in Zelda's hands, "Was lodged in his throat."

Waves of sadness crashed through the princess, pity for Malon and strangely enough, for Demon too. She pulled the ranch-girl into a tight embrace and they proceed to sob out their emotions into each others shoulders. Words were beyond them as they both realized what cruel twists fate had given.

Malon finally pulled away, taking the dagger Zelda had dropped. "They're called the Terim, a pair of cursed daggers that supposedly gift the owner with supernatural speed and strength. The soldier who found Nathan's body was too scared to touch the weapon in his throat, he left the dagger in the alley...when he returned, it was gone."

Malon's face twisted into a grimace, rage blatent on her features. "Promise me he will pay, princess. Promise me he will suffer for what he did."

Zelda listened in shock to the normally gentle girl's words. The princess felt torn between two evils. Demon had committed atrocities in his life which could only be rectified with his death. Malon was her best friend, but she wanted to kill the Hero of Time, a death that would end Hyrule's hope of defeating the great evil.

"He is the Hero of Time!" protested Zelda "I cannot kill him."

Malon hissed through her teeth. "I do not care what he is. He killed Nathan. He almost killed you princess. What more will it take to convince you? A man as evil as Demon could never be the Hero of Time."

The red-haired girl took Zelda by the shoulder and shook her roughly. "Think about it! The man is an insane murderer who wields cursed weapons! No matter how he has convinced you he must be an imposter." Malon looked at the princess with a hint of pleading in her eyes. "The Hero of Time is supposed to be the embodiment of hope and courage, a shining light to battle the forces of evil. Demon is dark enough to be that evil!"

Zelda ignored her friends ouburst, she knew Malon was hurting and instantly forgave her. Raising her left hand palm inward, Zelda looked the ranch-girl straight in the eyes. "He bears the mark of the Triforce." she whispered.

All the blood drained from Malon's face and she slumped back defeated. "It can't be." she mumbled, staring blankly at Zelda's hand. Her face was a picture of outright misery that tugged at the princess's heart.

"Before she died, Impa told me to find the Great Deku Tree." Zelda began, trying to change the subject. "She said that the great spirit of the forest would be able to guide me in restoring my throne. I will leave tomorrow at first light."

Malon nodded dejectedly still staring at the ground "I won't let him live." muttered the red-haired girl, looking up to meet Zelda's gaze. "I can't betray Nathan." her tearstained face looked beseechingly up at the princess. "It is what he would want."

She turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Do you really know that?" Zelda pleaded, but the thick oak door was already closed.

The princess sighed and placed the dagger gently on the dresser before taking her head in her hands. She just couldn't handle it, right when it seemed things were starting to look up, life had thrown her another challenge. Too many things she needed to deal with at once.

Zelda's thoughts were in turmoil as she tried to work out her dilemma. Malon wanted Demon dead, because he had most likely murdered her love. Gabriel wanted Zelda and Demon dead to secure his hold on the kingdom and Demon seemed to want the princess dead for reasons known only to himself. For a girl who had lost everything she had known in the last forty-eight hours it was a bit too much.

The princess knew Malon could not be swayed, the girl wanted Demon's death as a final tribute to Nathan and nothing Zelda said would change that. The farm-girl had loved Nathan with all her heart, if she believed Demon's death would avenge him than she would not cease to call for his death. Zelda hoped that Malon would not go after him personally, but Nathan's death had changed the girl in more ways than one. Actually, Zelda was more worried about Malon than Demon. The farm-girl was likely to the fatality in any clash between the two, Demon was just too skilled at the arts of warfare.

The blonde-haired princess sighed, her gaze roaming the ceiling. Somehow, she had convince her best friend not to kill her fiancee's murderer, reclaim a kingdom in the grip of a tyrant and enlist the help of a schizophrenic assassin with a tendency to go on killing rampages. It had not been a good week.

Zelda wondered briefly where Demon was, she had not seen him since the night he had tried to kill her. Not like she would fail to find him, she thought as a grim laugh escaped her lips. Destiny would draw them together, fate had decreed them the saviours of Hyrule and that same fate would send them on a collision course. Eventually Zelda would find Demon, she was sure of it.

Sliding off the bed, the blonde-haired princess decided to distract herself from her thorny dilemma. "If I'm leaving tomorrow I might as well make the best of civilization when I have it." Zelda murmured to herself. A hot bath would allow her to relax in ways that she hadn't for days, along with allowing her to finally get clean. It would be a luxury that a fugitive on-the-run would rarely enjoy.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Zelda left early the next morning, flying before Gabriel could widen his search to include the ranch. Talon had been there to see her off as she rode Destiny out of the stables, but Malon had been conspicuously absent. Zelda had not seen the red-haired girl, since their argument the night before and had assumed she was still brooding in her quarters. It was a quarrel that Zelda had found no way to resolve, even after long hours struggling with it.

The wind whipped through her now-clean hair as Zelda crouched low on Destiny's back. It was easy to forget your worries when riding over the grassy plains, but the princess could not escape Malon's stricken face in her memories. "_Promise me he will pay princess" _whispered the face "_Promise me." _Zelda shook the ranch-girl out of her memory. She would have to face Malon again, but for now it was easier to put the problem aside. Reclaiming her throne was a more pressing issue than stopping her friend's revenge.

Hyrule field rolled by under Destiny's pounding hooves, the dark clouds above turning its expanse a washed-out green. Huge and threatening, the giants of the sky hovered low over the princess's head. No rain had fallen, but Zelda did not want to tempt fate much longer. She had to get into the Great Forest, before the clouds unleashed the imminent downpour.

The forest became a line and then a dark smudge on the horizon. Its shadowy depths both a haven from the elements and a dangerous trap for the unwary. Zelda shivered as she remembered the stories told about the poor souls who had wandered into the Great Forest and never escaped, their bodies slowly changing into a demonic skeleton warrior as the flesh rotted off their bones. It was a fate the princess hoped to avoid.

According to the royal scholars Zelda had studied with when she was younger only one path led safely into the forests heart. One path that avoided the many dangers of the trees and stayed straight and true instead of meandering in senseless circles. Impa had found it once, Zelda had heard her nurse talk of it many times, but how the Sheikan woman had accomplished it was beyond the princess's knowledge. As a young girl she had asked Impa how to find the path to the heart of the forest, excited by the tales of adventure and wonders that Impa had described. Each time the nurse had smiled knowingly and given Zelda the same answer, "_Only your destiny can grant you access and only the guardian can give you your destiny." _For a younger Zelda it had been a very frustrating response.

Galloping toward the forest, the teasing riddle of a loving nurse had become deadly serious. Somehow Zelda had to solve how the nurse had entered the forest before Gabriel caught her or she became trapped inside the trees. The princess's face hardened in determination, she would not be stopped from avenging her country.

***

The forest was dark and foreboding as Zelda stood waiting upon its edge. Light seemed to disappear as it ventured beneath the eaves of the towering trees. Even in winter, the dense layer of branch and skeletal twig blocked out most illumination from the shrouded sun. Peering into its depths, Zelda could not say much for the cheeriness of the place. The forest was like a graveyard, watching and waiting.

Having no other course of action, the princess had spent the day travelling along the edge of the trees, neither leaving their shelter, nor venturing into their depths. Somehow she had to find the fabled path that would take her safely into the wood's embrace, but she still had no idea how to do so. Even after all morning mulling over Impa's words Zelda had progressed no further toward understanding them. She travelled onward hoping against hope that despite her ignorance the way would be shown to her.

The sky began to darken as afternoon crept into evening, the twilight leeching color from the already stark forest. Shadows that had been apparent under the trees became nigh impenetrable to the mortal eye, turning slowly into a blanket of darkness that would make traversing them impossible. A trickling stream that ran lightly along the edge of the forest was the only movement besides Zelda herself as she rode along beside it.

Her futile search for the forest path had worn the princess out, sapping her strength and inner confidence. Doubt which she had fought hard to suppress during the daylight hours rose quickly to haunt her. Malon came first, her accusing pleas burning their way into Zelda's soul. The ranch-girl was quickly joined by Gabriel's mocking laughter and then Demon's pain-filled gaze, all three ghosts swirling their way through the princess mind. Zelda could not push them away; her own sense of despair would not let her. The world was riding on her shoulder and it was a burden she could not bear for long.

She tried to concentrate, narrowing her tear-ridden gaze and calling up an image of her nurse in her mind. "Please," Zelda whispered, oblivious to her surroundings. "Give me strength, Impa. Help me save him, help me kill him, I don't care...Just make sure Hyrule survives." Which of the haunts she was talking about Zelda didn't know, and in her desperate state she didn't really care.

Coming out of her lonely reverie, Zelda noticed a faint green light flickering from just inside the edge of the forest. It seemed to barely be alive, more of the shadow of a flame than a real one. A remnant of some forsaken magic from a bygone age. Fearful, yet drawn by desperation, Zelda started toward it, hoping for a miracle.

The flame flickered steadily, seeming to draw farther away as Zelda got closer. The princess approached the edge of the woods warily, but her curiosity was picked and it would not be denied. She nudged a reluctant Destiny towards with a small movement of her knees and with a final glance at Hyrule Field headed forward into the Great Forest.

The pale green light led Zelda steadily onward, trees towering over her on all sides. The unearthly quiet of the forest made the princess nervous; it was like she was encased in shroud of silence which blocked all of the usual night noises. Even the whisperings of the branches above her in the night breeze were strangely muted. The magic of the Great Forest was at work and Zelda knew it.

The trees opened suddenly ahead of the princess, like curtains unveiling the beginning of a play. Destiny trotted forward into the small clearing and stopped abruptly with a jolt that almost knocked Zelda from her saddle. Bracing herself against the horse's saddle, Zelda stared forward at the pale flame. It had stopped in the middle of the clearing and now seemed to gesture invitingly toward the princess.

"Come closer princess." a voice whispered from among the dancing green light. "Come and be judged."

Zelda felt herself drawn irresistibly to the centre of the clearing, pulled like a moth to a candle. She slid quickly off of Destiny and strode forward, coming to a stop a few paces from the flame. Mutely she stared deep into the swirling greenish light, discerning what appeared to be a gnarled face. The features on the face were smooth and slanted, seeming almost elven in appearance. Flames gathered around it in a pale cocoon of light. Zelda was too absorbed in the amazing spectacle to respond as the figure began to speak once more.

"Why have you come to the forest?" the face asked, its glowing presence filling Zelda's vision.

"I need to talk to the Deku Tree." Zelda started "It is a matter of great importance." She had decided not to question the appearance of a flickering phantom in the middle of the deserted forest. Strange things happened when walking among the ancient trees of the Great Forest and it was better to go along than to fight against them. Hyrule was a land of magic with many strange creatures and none knew it better than the princess.

The face seemed to deliberate for a moment before responding to Zelda's statement. "I am sorry, but no mortal is allowed to seek the Great Deku Tree. Only the children of the woods, the Kokohiri and the Destined can enter his presence."

Zelda knew the Kokohiri as a legend of immortal children who lived in the deepest sections of the woods. Clad in green the played and sang in eternal happiness, perfectly in tune with the forest. Beyond all doubt the princess knew she was not one of the ageless children and she had no idea what the Destined were. Zelda quickly changed the subject in an attempt at distraction.

. "Who are you?" she asked, eager to learn more about the strange apparition.

The spirit paused for a moment before answering. "I am the Guardian of the True Path. I protect and I reveal. I guide and I deceive...I give and I take away."

Zelda nodded despite her inability to comprehend what the spirit was talking about. "Than you can grant me passage to the True Path?" she asked, hope evident in her voice.

The spirit's eyes narrowed and looked her over carefully. "You have not accepted your fate, girl." he started, "I cannot let you pass."

Zelda clenched her fist into balls, emotion clouding her voice as she pleaded with the face. "I must speak to the forest guardian, Hyrule depends on it. Please!"

The ghostly face turned inside its green halo. "I cannot. It is forbidden for any mortal, unless...No." the spirit shook its head. "The Cycle says that only one Hylian will ever pass here. You cannot be that one...You are Hylian are you not?" he asked, pointing to Zelda's distinctively pointed ears.

Zelda seethed in frustration, ignoring his question. "If you cannot grant me access, at least answer me a question. A woman named Impa once entered this forest, how did she make it inside?"

The spirit stiffened in shock. "How did you know of Impa?"

The princess smirked triumphantly. "She was my nurse."

Respect flickered in the eyes of the spirit. "Impa was one of the greatest mortals the world has known. Her courage and wisdom were enough to merit a summons from the Great Deku Tree, the only summons ever given to a mortal. You have been honoured by her attention."

Remembering her nurse's untimely demise Zelda's smirk disappeared. "I know." she whispered "I know."

The spirits blank face focused on Zelda, seeming to burn into her very soul. The green flames which had before been idly flickering suddenly seemed to reach toward her "I know of only one child cared for by the Sheika Impa. The princess of Hyrule herself. Who are you girl?" There was raw hope in its voice.

"I," began the blonde-haired girl "am the princess."

The pale green light swelled in intensity, pulsating rapidly as the mask-like face in the centre grew until if filled Zelda's vision. A strange urgency filled its gaze, an urgency that beseeched her to attempt some hidden task. "What is your name?" the spirit asked, shadows moving slowly across its features

Zelda stepped back, confused by the spirit's reaction. "I told you," she replied "I'm Zelda, princess of Hyrule."

The spirit's face shook impatiently and it moved toward Zelda. "The Cycle must be fulfilled by one who has embraced her fate. Think girl, who are you!" it roared, all traces of calm lost.

Despite her fright, Zelda stood her ground. Her exasperation at the spirit drove her to try a new tactic, giving herself a title that she rarely used. "Once again I tell you!" the princess cried, planting her hands on her hips. "I am the Princess of Destiny!"

Shockingly, the spirit backed away and bowed to the ground, a small smile gracing its features. He made a small gesture in the air, accompanied by a flash of light. "I bind you to your word Princess of Destiny. Take up your rightful title and the responsibilities that accompany it." The spirit paused for a moment, letting the full force of the words sink into Zelda

The princess wondered exactly what the spirit meant. She was the Princess of Destiny; Impa had been telling her that since birth. It was a fact of her life that one day she would be called to take the position. Light dawned in her eyes as she realized what had just occurred. The spirit had just placed the title upon her. For the first time in her life, Zelda had taken up the burden destined for her. It was a sobering thought.

"You have embraced your fate...the Great Deku Tree will see you" the spirit paused for dramatic affect. "I grant you passage."

The trees spread aside behind him with barely a sound, revealing an arrow-straight path leading directly toward the centre of the forest. It was flat and grassy with not a stump or bramble to block its passage. Seeming to continue forever, the princess knew instinctively that it was the path Impa had taken. The path that would take her to the Great Deku Tree, to Demon and eventually to fight the great darkness that was enveloping Hyrule. Zelda had found her destiny.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The trees stood tall and sombre over the forest floor, living giants that dwarfed the largest of humankind. Moss and lichens lay draped over their spreading boughs like tattered rigging on a storm-tossed ship, showing the wild abandon of Nature's elements. Even the great trunks were partially covered with small clumps of green showing against the more subdued tones of the bark.

It was through this tremendous display of natural wonder that Demon was fleeing, a small island of seething turmoil amid the deep calm of the forest. The warrior of darkness was still running, running like he had been for almost two days. His flight had been a ragged one, interspersed with periods of unconsciousness as he fell exhausted to the earth, but the black-cloaked warrior was now far from Castle-town. Far from his past and more importantly, far from Zelda.

Thinking of the princess threatened to send Demon tumbling to the earth once more, the pain a blinding flash through his mind. The boiling darkness that laughed insanely in the background fought for control, but it no longer offered escape for Demon. The shadows were no longer a sanctuary.

When Demon had attempted to kill the princess it had brought the last remnants of Link, Hero of Time back to life in a way nothing else could have. The shattered remnants of Link's soul could have faced pain, terror and even death without awaking from the darkness, but Zelda had revived them. Horrified at the killer he had become, the Hero of Time was fighting back against the shadows...and for once he was winning the battle.

Shapes still cloaked the edges of Demon's mind, coaxing, pleading and yammering constantly, but they were held at bay. The white-hot anger that had driven the Demon had been beaten back. Only the broken soul of a young man who had lost everything he cared about remained. An empty shell haunted by the memory of a crazed monster.

The leaves and twigs crackled incessantly under Demon's faltering steps as he dragged himself forward. He had not eaten or drunk since the night in Hyrule castle and the self-imposed fast was beginning to tell. The driving strength was gone from his gait as was the cat-like grace.

A small clearing became visible through the trees ahead of the black-clad warrior and Demon dragged himself toward it with the little strength he still possessed, a dying man frantically clawing his way into the bright light. Crawling out from among the trees he pulled himself to the edge of a small stream and drank deeply from the crystal clear water, almost submerging his entire head. A normal man would have collapsed beside the stream and stayed there thanking the Goddesses for his luck, but Demon had not come to the clearing for water alone.

The black-cloaked pulled himself painfully to his feet and stumbled across the small brook, soaking his lower calves in the process. He barely noticed the freezing liquid; his attention was focussed on a small stump in the centre of the clearing. The stump signified one of the most important figures in Demon's life, second only to the Goddesses and the Princess of Hyrule.

During Demon's childhood in the Great Forest of Hyrule there had been one person he could always turn to. As an abandoned infant, he would not have survived if it had not been for one individual. Second only to Zelda in Demon's mind, she had been one of the only figures Demon had ever trusted. Saria had been her name and she had been the only family the young Link had known.

The girl had been one of the ageless Kokohiri that roamed the woods, a forest sprite in the guise of a small child. Taking the infant Link as her own she had raised him in the relative obscurity of the forest. Demon could remember her sitting on the stump in front of him, playing the tiny instrument she favoured, the forest ocarina. Many had been the day where a young Link would sit enthralled in front of that very stump and listen for hours to Saria's songs.

He had left her sitting on the stump seven years before as he headed out into the wide world to explore. The sound of Saria's ocarina had flowed around him as he'd left, begging him to return, but he had ignored its plea.

When Zelda had awoken Link once again from inside Demon and caused the Hero of Time to fight the madness, he had fled blindly. Fled from what he had become and what he had been about to do. It was a flight that had taken him back to his childhood home to the only person who had ever shown him acceptance since his trip back through time.

Demon raised his eyes to the stump, willing the Kokohiri girl to be there. Willing her to be there in front of him to take him back into the only place of acceptance he had ever known. But the destruction of Link's past was already complete.

The stump stood abandoned and deserted, the presence that had once graced it gone. A layer of rotting leaves lay forsaken upon it like a burial-shroud on a long dead corpse and in Demon's mind the two were much alike. Link's childhood was dead, the last links severed.

The black-cloaked warrior dragged himself to the stump and slumped against it, resting his forehead on the soft rotting wood. It gave easily under his weight, the top layers crumpling inward in flaky chunks. The rot scattered to the ground as Demon leaned into it.

With a sudden burst of anger Demon smashed both his fists into the soft rotting wood. Again and again he pounded the stump, sending chunks of partially-decomposed material flying to the ground. Any other man would have been weeping on the ground, but no tears fell from Demon's face. The black-cloaked warrior had long before forgotten how to cry.

How had he fallen so far, Demon asked himself. He brought his glove-clad up to his face and stared at the blood-flecked leather. Every stain, every drop was another person he had killed. Another soul he had sent to hell. Once he had been the greatest hero the world had ever known. Now he had become one of the blood-crazed murderers he had once saved the world from. The shadows in his mind surged forward, screaming for control once more, but Demon, even through his despair, fought them down brutally. Zelda was still out there and she had to be protected from his personal darkness at all costs.

He lowered his gloved hands, unable to bear the physical evidence of his murderous past. Something nestled in the rotting wood of the stump caught his eye, a little piece of nut-brown among the reddish fibres. He pulled it out of the crevice it was lodged in with a slight wrench and brought it up to his face for inspection.

Demon's face twisted in pain as he recognized the small wooden ocarina in his hand and he almost let it drop to the ground. It held too many memories, all of them involving the small Kokohiri girl Saria. Every part of his childhood could be found in the subtle contours of the small ocarina, every part of him that had once lived in the forest. Cradling the small instrument carefully in his hand, Demon stared determinedly at it. Painful as the memories might be it was his only link to Saria.

He turned around and slumped against the stump, thankful for its support. Bringing Saria's ocarina to his lips he began to play, the notes coming painfully slowly at first before speeding up and beginning to flow from the instrument. He played as a last lament to Saria and the child who had set out from her care, never to return. The song he played was the one that had followed Link as he had set out from the woods, before Demon had even existed. A song that embodied the earthy joy of the ancient trees and the insurmountable energy that filled every part of the Great Forest. Full of the wild joy of the wood it soothed some of the ache in the black-clad warrior's soul--and quickly lost him in memories.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The woods passed by on either side as Zelda strode along the ancient path. The dawn had come hours before and now the trees were in their full glory, giant sweeping branches resplendent with brilliantly green leaves. Glancing around her, Zelda wondered how the trees appeared so green. Everywhere else in Hyrule, winter was advancing yet the Great Forest appeared untouched by the seasons. It was another thing to attribute to the mysterious power of the Great Deku Tree.

The path ahead was still as straight as when Zelda had first seen it, reaching on into the distance like an arrow from a bow. It was rightly named the True Path and Zelda had decided long before it was not created by the hands of men. Even the trees around her seemed to shepherd her slowly onward, opening to let her pass and then closing in behind her.

The soft moss under Zelda's feet bent easily under her and sprang back up just as easily after she stepped onward. Pausing to look behind her Zelda could see no mark upon the vibrant green surface; it was as if she had never walked upon it. As if she had always been standing in her exact place and would continue to, for eternity. Zelda shivered at the thought and pushed it from her mind, along with the momentary happiness the peace of the forest inspired within her.

The princess sighed as she continued down the path, her head hanging a little lower. The weight of many responsibilities dragged at her, accusation and pleas that she could not ignore. She could always forget them for a while, but destiny had placed a burden on her shoulders. A burden that would always be there, for good or ill.

High above the tallest trees the sun climbed in the sky peaked and began to fall.

The barest hint of shadows began to show themselves, criss-crossing the path in front of Zelda. Still the princess walked on, down the path that seemed to continue forever.

The cheery brilliance of the woods had begun to fade as the day lengthened and Zelda tired. Trees that had seemed so welcoming before faded into anonymity, unwelcoming presences that never fell into the distance. Zelda began to fear that they would never end, that she would never leave the endlessly straight path before her.

Still she walked, striding forward upon the soft mossy path. Another hour passed and another. The sun sank lower in the sky, falling toward the horizon. Zelda, unused to walking long distances on foot, felt as if she had been walking for days. And yet she kept going.

The late afternoon sun sank a little more, sending the path into complete shadow. Forlorn and alone a last bird trilled quietly before succumbing to the silence. Still Zelda walked.

Abruptly, the path disappeared. The lush moss that made up the trail spreading to carpet the entire area. Zelda stopped and looked around her in wonder, taking in the amazing spectacle before her eyes. All around her were the biggest trees she had ever seen, giant specimens that towered above everything else in the forest. They had obviously been alive for thousands upon thousands of years and Zelda was intimidated by the utter solemnity of the scene.

Steeling herself, she continued forward, wandering between the trunks of ancients that had grown undisturbed for centuries. War, famine, disease and death had swept over Hyrule hundreds of times and yet the giants of the forest had lived on, untouched. To Zelda, it was an example of the enormous power of the Great Forest. A comforting re-assurance that the Great Deku Tree had the ability to help her.

Ahead of her through the trees, Zelda could see the last remnants of a blood-red sunset streaming to the ground. She walked toward the light intent on discovering how it had penetrated the thick upper foliage. Striding through the trees she found herself in a circular clearing, the red light shading everything around her.

In the middle of the clearing stood the oldest tree Zelda had ever seen, ancient even by the standards of the grove she had just passed through. Though not as tall as the trees around the edge of the circle, its giant girth encompassed the entire centre of the clearing. Zelda fancied it would take more than a minute to circle the base of the trunk, even if she ran.

Her curiosity overcoming her awe, the princess walked up to the tree and ran a hand lightly across a section of bark, feeling the life emanating from the living wood beneath. Energy seemed to radiate from the tree, spreading out through the entire clearing and into the forest beyond. To Zelda it felt as if the tree embodied the whole woods, as if it was the living growing heart of everything she had seen on her journey since entering the Great Forest. She leaned against the trunk and closed her eyes, soaking in the earthy power of the ancient tree.

_Hello little one._

Zelda jumped away and staggered backward before failing to catch herself and falling to the ground. Her eyes darted around the clearing searching for an owner of the voice that had appeared in her head before accepting the fact that she was alone with the ancient tree.

_I am here little one._

Zelda's gaze snapped back to the tree and her eyes widened in realization. Here in front of her, was the legendary Deku Tree, heart of the Great Forest. She scrambled to her knees and prostrated herself on the grass, hoping to make up for her lack of respect.

"O Great Spirit of the Forest, I am sorry for I did not recognize you." she began, trying to mend her error.

_Most do not. _

The voice held a hint of sadness, a memory of pain and suffering carried only in the great tree's mind.

_Get up little one. Your respect for the forest has already been proven._

Zelda pulled herself to her feet and studied the great tree with newly opened eyes. She gasped in surprise as she recognized the shape of a face in its flowing contours. A face so ingrained into the shape of the tree it was hard to distinguish the two. With a barely audible creak the eyes of the tree seemed to turn to Zelda, their gaze staring into her in a way that only the guardian spirit at the beginning of the forest path had been able to.

_You are in pain, I see it inside you. The destiny of the cycle has been loaded on your shoulders, and with it the future of Hyrule...it is a great burden for one so young._

The giant trunk of the Deku Tree shifted forward, bending over the princess. Leaves and branches rustled together somewhere deep inside the fluttering halo of greenery that crowned the tree, creating a rushing noise that broke the silence of the forest. With one final rustle it stopped its forward movement and began to speak into Zelda's mind once more.

_You interest me little one, it is long since a mortal of such great importance visited my realm. So long that most of the forest has forgotten._

The tree seemed to shudder slightly before continuing.

_Too much the forest has forgotten, even with me to help them remember._

Zelda stared up into the gnarled face of the Deku Tree above her. The quest that had driven her into the forest called for her attention.

"I have come, Ancient One, to ask for your advice in a matter of great importance. I beg your forgiveness for interrupting the solitude of your existence, but I could find no other course of action." She stopped her speech and wordlessly pleaded with the great tree. "I need your help." the princess finished in a voice barely above a whisper.

The Deku Tree straightened upward, to Zelda the rustling in his upper branches sounding different than before. More like a great sigh from someone weary of the burdens pushed upon them. His voice was different too, as if he wasn't speaking to Zelda as much as to himself.

_So it is, once again. I had hoped... otherwise, but it cannot be escaped._

He paused before continuing in a rhythmic chant

_Always they come, looking for answers. Seeking love or power or gold_

_Always they come, hungry for knowledge. The brave, the loyal, the bold _

_Always they come believing I know the answer. _

_A tree among trees, an ancient among the old._

The tree had spoken his piece and said no more for some time, preferring to remain in silent contemplation. Around him the forest was absolutely still, emanating an awesome sense of age that weighed heavily on Zelda. Nothing stirred except for the floating dust, easily visible in the remnants of the blood-red sunset.

The princess began to get impatient, not used to being ignored for such a length of time. She peered hard into the gnarled face ingrained into the Deku Tree's trunk, wondering if he had fallen asleep. Finally, after a length of time which seemed like an age to the agitated princess had passed, Zelda gave a polite cough.

The tree shuddered, shaking the very ground Zelda stood on and making her regret her impatience. Opening its bark-lidded eyes, the Deku Tree looked piercingly at Zelda once more. Any sense of distanced contemplation disappeared, replaced with an alert watchfulness.

_You are impatient, little one, impatient like all of your kind. You take no time to plan or contemplate, just rush into whatever lies ahead... for good or ill._

Zelda inclined her head in a show of humility. "I am sorry, Guardian of the Forest, I acted rashly. It was not my place."

The great tree rumbled from somewhere deep inside its trunk, vigorously shaking the leaves in its canopy. To Zelda, the noise sounded almost like... laughter. The deep booming laughter that something of the Great Deku Tree's size would make.

_You are forgiven. I sense great unrest within you; a little impatience is to be expected from one so upset._

Zelda relaxed, relieved that the incident had passed so easily. Once more she began to speak of her quest. "I was told to visit you by Impa of the Sheika and am obeying her orders in coming here. I was told that you could guide me in matters beyond my experience and help me to regain what I have lost."

To Zelda, it seemed that the tree looked at her rather strangely after her last statement.

_That very much depends on the area of your experience and what you have lost. Both must be revealed before I will help you. Honest you are, little one, yet you cloak your intent carefully._

Letting out a long sigh the tree let its gaze wander away from Zelda and back into the distance. Once again, it seemed to go to sleep for a moment before continuing.

_Yet if Impa has sent you then I think I know what it is that you are asking...princess._

Zelda felt a little disconcerted, the Deku Tree was already the second creature to have surmised her identity in less then a day. The princess knew she would have had to tell the Great Tree about her royal status eventually, but felt a little uncomfortable that it had been guessed so easily. She chided herself for not being more cautious, in the future her slight mistakes could be the difference between life and death.

The Great Deku Tree continued as if it had not noticed her start at its use of her title.

_The Cycle is turning Princess, and you have witnessed its effects. You would not have come here otherwise. Things are changing, the world is in danger and once more the Princess of Destiny has been called upon to stop it._

The tree sighed, the movement sending it foliage whispering anew.

_It is a great burden princess._

Zelda tensed, hearing the truth in the tree's words. Too much was being place on her shoulders at once, too many things she was responsible for. She had to save her kingdom, not the world! Hyrule needed her now; she could not be off fighting evil.

Choosing her words carefully, Zelda responded to the tree. "I am the Princess of Destiny." she began "And one day I will have to save the world or die trying...but that is not why I have come to you."

She tugged at a strand of blond hair in desperation, trying to convey her feelings on the matter.

"My kingdom is in the hands of a murderer who plans to hand it over to the Aratians! I must stop him before Hyrule is destroyed!"

The Great Tree studied her slowly, his dark bark-lidded eyes unreadable.

_You have been called Princess of Destiny and for the world's sake you must answer. It is not a choice anymore, it is Destiny._

Zelda wilted, remembering her conversation with the spirit at the edge of the woods. The one who had made her accept her destiny before letting her pass. She no longer had any choice in the matter. The Princess of Destiny was just as much bound to her fate as anyone else. It could not be altered.

But still, Zelda was not ready to give up. Tears filled her eyes as she began to speak once more.

"My people need me!" she shouted, no longer caring about respecting the tree. "They are being fed to the wolves with no-one to defend them. I cannot let them die!"

_If you follow your heart and try to regain your kingdom your people will still die. Without you to fight the great evil, the world will end. Everything will be destroyed, including Hyrule and everyone in it. The only way to save them is to follow your destiny, not your heart. Even so, I am not asking you to leave Hyrule; it is here that the evil will manifest itself. For so it is written in the prophecies._

Zelda almost glowed with new-found hope. "Then I can help my people and take back my kingdom!"

The tree sighed and shook its branches slowly. A few leaves drifted to the ground, shaken loose by the earlier movements.

_You have given up your claim to Hyrule by becoming the Princess of Destiny. It is no longer your responsibility. You have one purpose now, one purpose that negates all other claims or holds that others may have on your life. You must continue the Cycle._

Zelda almost started crying once more, filled with the agony of what she had to sacrifice. "But my people." she whispered, "What will happen to them?"

The tree gave her a pitying glance, clearly sharing in her sorrow. His branches bent forward in an attempt to comfort the sobbing princess.

_I can give you no other help, the choice is yours. Attempt to save your people, or try to save the world. Until you decide, you may not leave the forest, for you must choose... One way or another_

The Great Deku Tree sank backwards, its face disappearing into the giant girth of the trunk. His presence leaving the clearing and sinking back into the forest. Within moments, Zelda was once again alone with her thoughts, left to make a decision that was impossible to make.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Darkness had completely fallen before the princess moved once more, leaving the clearing of the now-silent Deku Tree. She glanced backward at the deeply ingrained face in the centre of the great tree, trying to glean answers from his lifeless eyes. Attempting to find the truths that would save her country and fulfill her Destiny.

Zelda could feel the atmosphere of the forest changing around her, an unwelcome feeling that added to her discomfort. Before the trees had instilled her with an awesome sense of antiquity and ethereal detachment. She had been an ant at the feet of giants, unnoticed and unseen. Now the princess felt the attention of every tree she passed, stifling presences that pressed duty and age upon her weary shoulders. The forest was watching Zelda, waiting for the decision she had to make.

The doubts tore at her, turmoil filling her mind. Promises she had made, to Impa, to Malon, to the people of Hyrule raged ceaselessly. The two greatest allegiances she had ever known, either of which were more important than her life, had been placed on opposite ends of the battlefield. She had to serve one and forsake the other, no other option existed.

Destiny had chosen Zelda to be the saviour of a world, but she had other responsibilities. It was only a matter of time until Gabriel carried out his plan and turned Hyrule over to the Aratians. And once they were in control, Zelda's country would be subjected to utter domination. Domination by a race totally obsessed with the shedding of blood. Aratia had spilled the life-blood of thousands of its children into the sands of its arenas; Zelda shuddered to think of what they would do to helpless foreigners.

The trees closed around, cloaking Zelda in their massive presences. _Duty_, their whispered, their conviction filling Zelda with shame. She knew it was the right choice, sacrificing her people for the good of the human race, but it was a decision that she could not let herself make. Either way, it was a choice that would destroy her.

Frustrated, she sat down against the trunk of a particularly gigantic specimen and wrapped her arms around herself. The forest had begun to get cold, the warmth of the sun stolen by night. She wondered rather nervously what kind of creatures the Great Forest harboured beneath its eaves, animals as strange as the Deku Tree himself and perhaps more dangerous...

Thinking of the Deku Tree renewed her dilemma, bringing it to the forefront of her mind. Zelda had made the journey into the Great Forest to help her people, not begin the quest the Cycle had appointed her. She had always known the Cycle would call her someday, but she had thought it would come with her still as a princess, able to move armies and nations to help defend the world. Why the Cycle would choose her now, with nothing and nobody to her name was beyond Zelda's comprehension.

The princess huddled up closer to the tree, turning her thoughts to other problems. Alone in the dark she bitterly regretted her lack of foresight. She had brought no blankets, no means of making a shelter or fire, only a small quantity of food she had shoved into a hidden pocket in her Shiekah costume. The stress of her journey had completely driven thought of food from her mind, but as she huddled against the trunk Zelda discovered that she was bitterly hungry.

Grabbing some bread out of the hidden pocket she tore ravenously at it, discarding all princessly etiquettes and behaviours in an effort to cram the most into her mouth at once. It was amazing; she thought idly as she ate how quickly things that were taught in the castle became unimportant in real life. When one was starving, having the proper number of forks or cutting your food into sufficiently tiny pieces did not even enter one's mind. Remembering how bored she had been learning the subtleties of royal life Zelda sighed, if only her boredom were still her biggest problem

Finishing her meal, Zelda brushed the crumbs from her face and clothing and leaned back against the tree. The Deku Tree's words came to her, but she pushed them away, grasping for something else to occupy her mind. It came in the memory of a black-clad warrior with troubled blue eyes and impossible speed.

Demon was an enigma to Zelda, a darkness that the light of wisdom and truth could not penetrate. Her dreams had drawn the warrior of darkness as both an insane murderer and a brave hero running from personal demons. Both views were correct, Zelda knew it instinctively, but the black-clad warrior remained a mystery--a dangerous liability that Zelda would have to face to continue the cycle.

The memory of Demon caused Zelda to tense anew and scan the area around her, even though she knew it was a futile gesture. The black-clad warrior was probably far away, battling the shadows that controlled his mind. It was hardly likely he would have fled into the Great Forest, but then again Destiny had caused stranger things before...

Realizing that she was frantically trying to press herself further back against the tree, Zelda forced herself to regain control. Demon was not hiding in the darkness watching her, it wasn't possible. The man had probably crossed into a different country by now, miles and miles away from where the princess was hiding. Even so, the princess took the dagger Demon had left in her room and set it beside her as a precaution. Who knew what could be traversing the woods in the shadows.

Zelda sat awake for hours, the noises of the night playing on her nerves. Thinking of Demon had completely unsettled her. She searched for his dark shape in every shadow. Alone in the darkness, she deliberated on the decision the Deku Tree had set before her. Her mind went around in endless circles, caught by loyalties and promises she could never break. Zelda began to wonder how she could ever make such a decision, maybe she would be caught in the forest until she died, unable to make the choice between the world and her people. Knowing that saving her people now would only lead to their destruction anyway did not help her. Loyalty, Zelda was starting to discover, was a much more powerful force than reason.

Finally, the princess fell asleep, caution overwhelmed by weariness so deep Zelda felt it in her bones. She slumped forward and curled unconsciously into a ball. A diminutive greyish shape in the sombre darkness of the Great Forest.

The sun was already high overhead, bathing the forest in golden rays, when the princess woke. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Zelda clumsily got to her feet and stretched her limbs. For her, the terrors of the night had gone, but the terrors of the day had just begun.

_You must decide _the trees whispered, the presences leaning over the newly-awakened princess. Zelda tried to ignore them, but felt the same thought echoing inside of her. The choice had to be made, but Zelda could not condemn her people. Could not forsake them to the Aratians without a fight, her private vows as ruling member of the royal family would not allow it. In Zelda's mind, not even the cycle came before Hyrule.

A faint noise managed to break through the turmoil in Zelda's head, temporarily nudging her dilemma away. Like the hollow wind through the leaves it came, a rushing song that echoed the voices of the mysterious forest. Even the trees lifted their suffocating attentions to take notice, lifting the burdens of ancients from the weary princess.

Grasping for something to distract her from her troubles, Zelda latched onto the sound, letting the wild glory of the woods ring through her. Lilting and galloping along, the song flew with the coursing energy of the Great Forest, the celebration of growth, death and the Cycle. Entwined into the song was the terrible age of the trees, an underlying sense of majesty and melancholy that somehow fit perfectly in the melody.

It was, in Zelda's opinion, music that seemed as much a part of the woods as the trees themselves,

Almost as if in a dream the princess began to walk toward the sound, gravitating to the irresistible pull of the wild magic. She stepped from the green moss of the path and into the forest without hesitation. The melody coaxed her onward, rushing to her head with explosions of green vitality.

As she drifted onward, she sensed rather than heard the flowing tune climaxing. Swirls of sound floated around her, spinning a web of wild energy between the trunks of the ancient trees. Zelda floated, caught in its grasp. A joy that the princess had sorely missed possessed her soul and allowed her to forget, if just for a moment, the pressing decision she had to make.

The troubles that filled her mind had floated away and for the first time in a long while the princess felt truly free. Her weariness and sorrow almost entirely vanished, washed from her mind by the forest melody. It carried her along, flying above the burdens the world had placed upon her. She wandered deeper into the forest, the danger of being lost forgotten in the magical pull of the forest melody. The trees around her whispered their approval, but Zelda did not hear them. She was lost in the music, feeling the full glory of the woods.

As Zelda neared the place of its origin the song began to slow, falling away from its rushing climax. The princess started to hurry, fearing she would not reach its source before it ended and the magic was broken. In her state of new-found freedom, she had no wish to return to the worries and decisions that waited outside the forest melody.

The trees parted abruptly, and all but shoved Zelda into a clearing. Lost in the music, the princess glided forward submissively into the jaws of Fate, called by the slowly dying notes of a song that had not been heard in the forest since the passing of a small Kokohiri girl. It was the last plea of a soul more troubled than even Zelda, a soul who was bound to the Princess of Destiny in a way that not even complete despair could break.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Demon lowered the Forest Ocarina from his lips and looked up at the Princess; his deep blue eyes clear as day, but troubled beyond knowledge. His haunted gaze filled the princess's view, no longer clouded by shadow or fire but something just as desperate. It was the look of a man who was seeing his final damnation approaching and knew beyond doubt that he deserved every bit of it.

Almost delirious from hunger, Demon stared fixatedly at the princess. He could no longer determine the real from unreal, but he knew instinctively who the figure before him was. The remnant of his past coming to take her judgement.

"I knew you would come back," whispered the black-clad warrior, "Somehow, I knew you would find me." The ocarina fell from his grasp, but he continued to stare at Zelda. Continued to look at the princess with despair beyond what the princess had ever seen.

Zelda almost ran screaming from the clearing, intent on fleeing the terrible apparition that had appeared before her. It was an urge so strong that she almost did it without thinking, acting on an impulse to try and escape this terror that had haunted so many of her dreams. But the residual affects of the forest music were still upon her, along with the curious bond that had made the black-cloaked warrior such an enigma to the princess. Something inside her urged Zelda to stay with Demon, something stronger than her urge to run.

"I have failed you, Zelda." Demon rasped, slumping further in on himself. "I have failed everyone." He undid the black cape around his neck and flung it to the forest floor, throwing dust into the air. "I have become the shadow I was meant to fight."

Even through the turmoil of fear Zelda could sense something strange about the words. It was almost as if the troubled warrior were speaking to her and yet to someone else at the same time. As if he believed she was a different person entirely, in the body of a Hylian princess. It was a feeling that the Zelda did not entirely like.

Recovering from her initial shock, Zelda began to move closer to the warrior of darkness. An urge much akin to the one she had felt in the Aratian dungeon on their first meeting took hold, an urge to help heal Demon's suffering. She marvelled at the action, not quite believing she would approach a man who had once tried to murder her, but the sight of his eyes had assured her of her safety.

They had been the deep blue of the Hero of Time, unclouded by the shadow and flame that announced insanity and madness. The Demon who had tried to kill her was not in control, just the man who had attempted her rescue in the Aratian manse. A man known as the Hero of Time.

Misinterpreting the meaning of her approach, Demon bowed his head, freeing the princess from his despairing gaze. "Kill me" he rasped "Avenge yourself and Hyrule." He drew his remaining dagger from the holster on his thigh and tossed it to the ground beside his cloak. The blade glistened dully in the morning light, an alien object of death in the peace of the forest.

Zelda reached downward and picked it up slowly, unsure of what do make of the black-clad warrior's request. She hovered indecisively, torn between reaching out to comfort the young man or shying away from the reminder of the Demon. It was the same question that had haunted her thoughts so many times.

Demon rose from his position on the stump, causing Zelda to take an uneasy step back. The despair in his eyes tore at Zelda's soul as she stood frozen before the warrior of darkness. "Do it." he whispered, his face twisted with emotion "I deserve everything."

Looking at the dagger in her hand, Zelda wondered if she could actually kill him. Demon had murdered so many times, committed so many atrocities against Hyrule. Would it be so hard, wondered Zelda, to free the world from his evil?

Realization of what she had been about to do caused Zelda to step back once more. She had contemplated murder; the horrified princess realized and just about committed it. I'm no different than him, Zelda accused herself, and I don't even have the demons in my head to blame it on. With a start, she realized she was shaking visibly.

Looking back into the eyes of a young man who needed peace more than anyone Zelda had ever seen, the princess finally found her voice. "You deserve nothing." she whispered, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "I..." she looked fearfully at the black-clad figure in front of her. "I...won't"

Demon looked wonderingly at the princess with a different emotion present in his eyes. "I am sorry...princess" His eyes closed and he slumped forward, sliding off the stump to the forest floor. Days without food and the emotional torment of his mind had finally taken its toll.

Zelda froze, scared to the edge of screaming. Once again she had felt like the words had been directed to someone else. A different Zelda from a world that only existed inside Demon's head. She felt like the audience to a drama in which someone else was playing her role.

Once again, she had to stop herself from fleeing. The black figure collapsed in front of her held too much evil, too many deaths. It was a danger she did not want to face, a challenge she could not believe she could overcome. Demon was a darkness she did not entirely want in her life.

She approached the figure slowly; afraid he might spring back to his feet with the familiar shadows dancing in his eyes. Zelda had no idea how much of a hold the darkness in Demon's mind had on him and she had no wish to experience their attentions again. It was a threat that had hung over her life since she had first dreamed of him, months ago, and it still filled her entirely with terror.

Bending over Demon's prostrate body she hesitantly pulled his arms away from his face, recoiling in shock as she saw his clear blue gaze staring sightlessly upward. Opaque and unblinking the consciousness behind them was sleeping, but their pure azure depths unnerved Zelda all the less. She pulled herself away from the body, but an invisible force kept her staring down into his eyes.

The despair and sorrow had melted off Demon's features without a trace and the resulting vision took Zelda's breath away. Always before her gaze had been drawn to his eyes alone, captivated by the incredible turmoil that were visible there. Taking in Demon's entire face, the princess was filled with a sense of pity. Here was the man that had been destined to save the world. The man that would become the Hero of Time. As she thought about it Zelda realized why it seemed so familiar, it was the exact image on the tapestry in her former room at the castle.

It seemed impossible to the princess, that the weavers would have been able to predict the features of the Hero of Time so accurately. Demon was the mirror image of the tapestry in every detail except for his clothing and weaponry. It was almost as if they had seen him in person, Zelda thought, as if they had met Demon and based their weaving upon him. The princess shoved the thought away, declaring it impossible; the tapestry had been made far before Demon had reached the age depicted in the image. The Hero of Time hanging on her wall was a coincidence, nothing more.

Zelda looked at the young man before her, asking unanswerable questions of his unresponsive mind. "What made you become this?" she whispered, tentatively draping his black cloak over is prone body. "What force could be strong enough to break you?" She sighed and stared despairingly into his eyes, foiled by the shadows that cloaked his past.

Tearing her eyes away from Demon to glance around the clearing Zelda wondered exactly what she was supposed to do. Alone among the trees with an unconscious killer and minimal supplies, she was facing a predicament with no easy answer. Maybe, Zelda speculated with grim humour, I won't survive to choose between my people and the Princess of Destiny.

A small rustling disturbed her thoughts, shifting her attention back to the clearing. She nervously raised the dagger grasped in her hand, wondering what sort of creature would roam the ageless ground of the Great Forest. A bitter twist of humour wormed itself into Zelda's mind making her wonder why she was afraid. Nothing in the forest could be more dangerous than the man sitting behind her, but she held onto the dagger just the same. Caution told her to prepare to defend herself and in Zelda's experience, caution was not a wise thing to ignore.

The rustling increased still more and a small bundle of vibrant green sprang forth behind a trunk, stepping quickly into the clearing. Feeling a little embarrassed, Zelda quickly stowed the dagger with the other inside her uniform, the small child before her was obviously no threat. A small girl of about ten stood before her, golden hair woven with a pink tiara of small crystal-like flowers. The princess relaxed her hold on her weapon and stared inquisitively at the small child, wondering how exactly the girl had managed to get into the middle of the Great Forest.

The girl bowed with an air of maturity ill-fitting her child-like form and then straightened up to face Zelda. Her face, plump with the chubbiness of infanthood, glowed with the faint light of the forest. But it was her eyes that unnerved Zelda, ageless swirls of brown that were wise beyond years and time.

"I have been sent by the Great Deku Tree," she began, her voice strangely missing the underlying shrillness of a child's. "To give you lodgings until your decision is made."

She twirled a finger through a strand of brown hair and was transformed into a young girl, embarrassed by a minor oversight. "I am sorry for not coming earlier, but the Great Deku Tree does not measure time in the same way as mortals. Years are mere days to him, fleeting as the wind among the trees of his forest. He believed he asked me to find you mere seconds after your conversation with him, but as you know it has been almost a day since then."

She let out the remainder of her breath in a rush, squaring her small shoulders in an attempt to regain her composure.

"Forgive me, the forest is all in uproar and the Kokohiri are scattered. I was the only one who could be found quickly enough to be sent to you. "

Before Zelda could reply, the Kokihiri began again. Once more the ageless being fell away, leaving a small girl staring with shining eyes at Zelda. "Are you really a princess?" she asked, eyes filled with wonder. "I've always dreamed of meeting one."

Zelda smiled sadly at the girl, fooled, for a moment, into thinking the girl in front of her was one of the innocent Hylian children she loved. "Not anymore child, not anymore." Then her eyes focussed on the dark shape at her feet and she stiffened, remembering her quest.

The Kokohiri girl nodded once and turned away, beckoning to Zelda with one hand. "Follow, please. I will take you to shelter and rest." She almost at once disappeared into the forest, blending perfectly with the mottled colors of the forest floor.

Glancing behind her at Demon's comatose body, Zelda called urgently at the diminutive girl's retreating form. "Wait, please! I have an injured man here and I cannot move him by myself."

The Kokihiri reappeared from behind a trunk and glanced quizzically at Zelda. There was a small pause as she studied Zelda carefully as if measuring her against some unseen ideal. "Are you sure," stated the small girl quietly, "That you want to take him with you?"

The implied suggestion shocked Zelda and appealed to her at the same time. She looked at Demon's shadowy form lying beside her, stained with blood, war and darkness beyond all conceivable repair. Why not leave him here, she mused, the callousness of her own thoughts astounding her. It would be so easy to remove him from her life, finally leave behind the presence that had haunted her. The broken man beside her couldn't be the Hero of Time of legend, it wasn't possible. She moved unconsciously away from the dark form as she deliberated, as if her body was making the decision for her.

The Princess stared at Demon, feeling the fear and disgust, but also the strange pull that attracted her too him. He was a murderer, but Zelda felt herself pitying him, wishing he could be free from the shadows inside his mind. Part of her wanted to leave, but found she could not. Something inside wouldn't allow her to leave the warrior of darkness to his death, something stronger than her better judgement and the fear she felt.

Looking back into the small Kokihiri girl's face, Zelda spoke with a new sense of conviction. "No," she began, "He is coming."

The small child smiled again, pleased by something Zelda could not fathom. "Follow me," the girl began "I will take you to your lodgings." With that she raised her hand, pointing her palm in the direction of Demon's prone body. To Zelda's shock he shimmered and disappeared, leaving a swirling mass of green dust that rose into the air and shot off into the forest.

Before Zelda could begin to voice her question the girl answered it, smiling unconcernedly in the direction the dust had taken. "It is a small power of the forest, one the Deku Tree had granted upon me, foreseeing some of this circumstance. He will be there when we arrive.

Zelda looked worriedly into the trees, wondering what exactly the girl had done to the black-clad warrior. She felt a strange sense of responsibility for the young man's future, a sense of responsibility she had never felt before. By deciding to take Demon with her, she had made a decision, but what the consequences of that decision were she had yet to find out.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Zelda followed the Kokihiri girl through the forest, watching the tiny form slip effortlessly across the mossy ground. For once, Zelda was glad to have someone lead the way. It had been too long since she had been a follower, content to let another forge the path forward

The forest passed them by, branch and leaf protected by the unnatural stillness of the Great Forest. Narrow shards of sunlight penetrated to the forest floor in front of Zelda to create a mottled carpet of gold and green. Once again, Zelda noticed the impossible beauty of the forested world around here, a beauty that had existed from times beyond memory.

Within minutes, the princess and Kokihiri girl arrived at the strangest settlement Zelda had ever seen. Overcome by the sheer abnormality of the scene, she stood rooted to the spot with everything else forgotten. Her guide paused understandingly to let Zelda recover.

A great grove of trees stood before Zelda, almost as big as the ones in which the Great Deku Tree stood. They were great gnarled specimens which would have been remarkable enough on their own, but it was not them that Zelda was staring at. Suspended high up in the leafy foliage were the unmistakable shapes of tiny dwellings, platforms on which diminutive shapes lived and played. These, Zelda realized, must be the ancient homes of the Kokohiri, homes that seemed as much a part of the forest as the immortal children themselves.

It reminded Zelda of a scene from a picture book she had read as a child, a vibrant green image that had captured her imagination. In fact, the princess noted it looked almost exactly alike, down to the last golden-green beam slanting down through the foliage. She searched her mind, remembering the story from the book. It had been a strange one, she recalled, with no happy ending to make a child smile. Instead it had described the life of a young Hylian raised in the Great Forest. A child brought mysteriously to the Great Deku tree by a dying mother and who inexplicably disappeared at the age of ten. For the first time, she wondered if the tale had been real, instead of a fable, turned to legend by the passage of years.

Zelda's Kokihiri guide started forward once more and Zelda fell in behind her. It was lucky the forest floor was clear of obstructions or the princess would have fallen many time, her gaze fixated on the wonders in the upper canopy. The strangely flowing shapes of the dwelling puzzled her with their entirely natural contours. Abruptly, Zelda realized that the branches of the trees had formed the shelters naturally, responding to some ancient yet powerful command. The entire village above her had been formed by the trees themselves to accommodate their immortal partners, the Kokihiri.

The princess was led inward to the middle of the grove, towards a tree with a strange spiral curvature like nothing she had ever seen. As she grew closer Zelda recognized the shape as a staircase leading upward into the foliage, another wonder to be attributed to the fantastical growth patterns of the forest. Smoothly contoured indentations formed steps along a wide ridge that ran slowly upwards.

Encouraged by the smile of her guide, Zelda stepped tentatively onto the natural wonder, not quite believing that what she walked upon actually existed. As she climbed slowly upward, Zelda understood why the Great Forest had so many legends and stories surrounding it. Nowhere else in Hyrule did such great wonders of earth and wood exist.

The stairs led upward, spiralling slowly into the emerald world of branches and leaves. Everywhere Zelda looked there were clumps of vibrant greenery, unmoving in the still air. The forest floor fell away below her as if discarded for an entirely different dimension that the princess had never known existed. She had entered the realm of the Kokihiri, a realm which had been preserved for centuries.

As she climbed higher Zelda could see wooden pathways leading off from the staircase she was on. They were thicker branches with a gently depression in the centre which allowed one room to walk without fear of falling off. Once again Zelda marvelled at the unique architecture of the elevated village, nothing had been left out through the centuries it had taken to be grown.

Leading her along on of the lower pathways, the Kokohiri girl stopped in front of the one of the bigger shelters and gestured Zelda inside. Inspecting the wall, the princess realized that they were made of interlocking branches, forced so tight together that the only crack in the entire ovular structure was a slit in the roof for illumination. Supported by a nearby trunk, it was the perfect home, ideal for the children who inhabited it.

A pile of blankets sat in one corner beside a mossy patch that Zelda could only assume was a bed. In the other corner there was a dark shape that made the princess's breath catch in her throat. Evidently the Kokihiri had spoken the truth about Demon's magical transportation. His presence filled Zelda with uneasiness, but also a new found determination to understand him. The deep-rooted fear was starting to dissipate, replaced by a limited comprehension of the troubles that had plagued the black-cloaked warrior.

The small Kokohiri girl interrupted her thoughts, clasping her hands behind her back and speaking shyly in the direction of the floor. "We weren't really sure what to prepare for a real princess, but I hope you like it... The Deku Tree thought you would want to rest upon reaching here so I will leave you. Maybe I can show you around when you wake?" She looked tentatively up at Zelda in such a way that could only make the princess laugh.

"Yes, that would be very nice." Zelda smiled, eager to re-assure the girl. "I would like it very much."

The girl smiled widely, eyes sparkling and backed out of the room with a grace that befitted one much older, leaving Zelda alone. Standing alone in the middle of the room, the princess's gaze fell upon a small tray beside the door. Upon the tray were piled berries and fruits of which kind Zelda had never seen, along with a large pitcher of water. Kneeling gracefully beside the tray Zelda pulled Demon's daggers from her from inside her Sheikan outfit and placed them carefully beside the tray. It felt good to finally get their cold hard shapes out from beside her skin, the blades were as long as her fore-arm and therefore extremely hard to transport comfortably. After ridding herself of the weapons, she started to eat, thankful for something to fill the large void in her stomach.

A little while later Zelda was finally satisfied, her need for water and sustenance greatly diminished. Getting up from her position beside the depleted tray she walked over to the pile of blankets and picked one up to wrap around herself. The warmth of the covering felt good and Zelda let herself have a moment to enjoy the luxury of lying in a bed once more.

The princess fell onto the mossy patch in the corner with a sigh and ran her gaze around the room, trying to ignore the black mound in the opposite corner. It was definitely a different design than she had ever seen before inside the passages of Hyrule castle, not as luxurious, but easier on the eyes. The flowing natural colours of the walls gave the chamber a sleepy peaceful feeling that threatened to overcome Zelda.

Exhaustion overwhelmed Zelda in a rush, taking her by surprise with its power. It was not yet noon, but she felt as if the sun had already departed the sky and left the land in darkness. Evidently, the miniscule amount of sleep she had been able to gain under the brooding trees the night before had not been enough. Drawing another blanket from the pile over her weary form Zelda let her head fall back against the soft moss. She drifted quickly into slumber, releasing the burdens she carried into the peaceful world of unconsciousness.

Zelda came awake slowly, with the reluctance of one who had slept well and fully. She opened her eyes and found herself staring into the intricately intertwined web of branches above her head. It felt so good to just lie there on the vibrant moss and rest, let the realities of life slip away. By the slanting beams of light it was late afternoon, approaching evening, but the princess did not want to rise from her makeshift bed.

Steeling herself, the princess gingerly sat up, pushed the rumpled blankets aside and froze. Her blue eyes widening as she stared across the room toward the opposite corner. A different pair of blue eyes stared back, no longer filled with despair, but a quiet wonder that held Zelda's gaze.

Demon was crouched in the corner, his dark form inhabiting the only patch of darkness to be found in the room. His black-cloaked form stirred fear in Zelda's mind, but she no longer had any desire to run away from the fear. Instead, she felt herself wondering if there was any way she could heal his pain, any way to bring back the man before Demon had existed.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Demon whispered, for once the guarded mask gone from his face. To Zelda it seemed that years had dropped form his gaunt frame, the many sins and bloody past gone from his gaze. Here was the man who had been destined to be the Hero of Time.

Zelda tore her eyes away from Demon, not entirely sure how to answer the question. Once again, she felt like the warrior of darkness was speaking to a different Zelda, one she had never known. Conflicting emotions urged her to reply and also to keep silent. Finally, out of her turmoil she decided to speak.

"Why would I kill you?" Zelda started, still uncomfortable with the knowledge that the man in front of her believed her capable of ending his life "You have done no harm to me."

The look of anguish came back into Demon's eyes and he repeated the words he had spoken in the clearing earlier in the day. "I have...I have failed you princess. I have failed you again."

Zelda still had no idea what the man was talking about, but she sensed that he needed her to answer his question. That the answer would give him something to hold on to and maybe offer hope. "You may have failed, but failure does not always deserve death." She leaned forward and spoke earnestly to the shadowy figure, hoping that something she said would reach him. "I think that you have suffered greatly, more than I can ever know." The princess broke off as she remembered the dream at Lon Lon ranch, remembered the shadows that had chased Demon.

Trying to explain her thoughts more full Zelda tried again. "I do not think you are an evil man. Something inside me says that you were not always...as you are now and I want to help you." Shrugging helplessly at Demon's questioning glance she continued to speak. "I do not know why."

Confusion swirled in Demon's eyes, mixed with a sort of dawning recognition. "You aren't..." He drew back in horrified understanding, the innocence in his face lasting for a second before the mask snapped closed. The mechanical warrior of darkness was back, albeit one without the uncontrollable urge to kill.

"I am a murderer of dozens, a man without conscience or morality inside my soul." the black-cloaked warrior started, bitterness twisting his face. "If I have any soul remaining." He pushed back farther into his corner, wrapping his cloak tightly around myself.

Zelda tried once more, his obvious pain driving her to help console him. "You have not done any of those things, it was the shadows that drove you to them. The killing and blood were beyond your control to stop." Feeling him slipping back toward the beckoning despair Zelda became more desperate. "Please believe me!"

Demon looked coolly into the eyes of the princess, the calm mask in place once more. "There are no evils inside of me that I did not welcome in, no hells that I did not help create. My weakness allowed the demons to take control, my despair that gave them the strength to kill."

The color had seeped out of his gaze, leaving it a pale greyish shade. "I created the monster that has become Demon, my weakness drives me to thank you for leaving me alive, but it would have been better to kill me."

Zelda looked back at him with eyes filled with emotion. "I do not know you, we have only met for short periods of time under stressful circumstances, but I do not believe you are a monster. You have killed, it cannot be escaped, but you have been given a second chance." Clenching a handful of blanket between her fists she twisted it helplessly. "You are the Hero of Time, the most powerful force of goodness in the world! Make up for you're past mistakes! Let me help you heal!"

Demon looked back at the princess with cold impartiality. "I do not deserve to live, too much blood has been spilt on my hands. I do not deserve the title Hero of Time" He leapt silently to his feet and moving with blinding swiftness across the chamber to the door, turning back just at the entrance. He paused they're hovering between the doorway and the forest outside, a profound sorrow emanated from his frame "You underestimate your own power Princess of Destiny" he began, momentary hesitation flickering in his eyes. "Do not...waste it on a dead man." With that, he scooped up his daggers which Zelda had placed there and disappeared out the door.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The sunset was breathtaking from the castle balcony. A myriad of colours that floated above a brilliant half-circle of pure fire. It was a scene that the royal family had been privileged enough to view for generations. A scene that the members of the ruling royalty had hoped would always be enjoyed by their descendants until the end of time. Unfortunately, their hopes had at last been destroyed.

Gabriel stared uncaringly into the blazing sun, his muscular silhouette outlined on the stone floor behind him. A new robe adorned his shoulders, one emblazoned with the golden symbol of the Triforce, emblem of Hylian royalty. To the impartial onlooker he was the perfect ruler, handsome and strong, with a high brow that suggested intelligence and wisdom, but the people of Hyrule were not impartial. The princess they had loved was long since believed dead and not even Gabriel could fill the void in their hearts her loss had created. They accepted their new king and supported him, but they could not love him with the same adoration Zelda had inspired.

Tearing his gaze from the brilliant sunset, the king surveyed the bustling town below him. Watching the tiny figures of animals and people go about their daily lives, with no inkling of his silent observation. Gabriel sighed to himself, lost in the melancholy effect of the epic scene. It was times like this, he admitted, that he wished Zelda were still beside him.

Such a pity, Gabriel mused, that he had been forced to reveal himself so early. He could still remember her face, the golden hair framing her innocent blue eyes. He ran a finger lightly over a section of the stone railing, lost in thought. He wished...Shaking the thought from his mind Gabriel renewed his focus on the future. It was too late to go back, a pity about the princess, but it had been necessary.

He turned from the railway and walked back into the castle, leaving the majestic terraces of the castle balcony. The dying remnants of daylight streamed in around him in a golden aura that hinted at the angelic. Servants scuffled quickly from his path as he walked, with the weary air of long familiarity. Through it all Gabriel continued forward, untouched by all around him.

The castle had changed with Zelda's departure in ways that not even the king himself could understand. Something had departed, like the door had been closed on a shining beam of light. That atmosphere had become darker, brooding, and laughter had become scarce. No longer did talk ring from its marbled halls and no-one walked its passages at night. The loss of the princess was slowly destroying the very essence of Hyrule Castle, but Gabriel had neither the urge nor the means to act.

Walking through the vaulted arches of the castle hallways Gabriel stared forward unseeingly at the marble floor. He had many things weighing on his mind, things that if discovered would get him hanged for treason against Hyrule. So ironic, thought Gabriel that he was betraying the same people who had begged him to take the crown after Zelda's disappearance. In any other situation he would have been satisfied by the power of his new-found position, but there were other factors involved that Gabriel could not ignore.

He shivered, dignity forgotten as he remembered the cloaked messengers which had been appearing frequently in his chamber, sending word from the master. Unearthly figures cloaked in shadows which could penetrated the heart of Gabriel's inner sanctums effortlessly. They reminded him faintly of the black-clad Demon he had fought on the night of Zelda's disappearance. The same aura of death radiated off them and the same fear possessed Gabriel in their presence.

The figures had been appearing more and more frequently, their voices a sibilant hiss uttering only one phrase. "_Fulfill your promise_." they whispered, before fading into the shadows of his chamber. "_Fulfill your promise_."

They were phantoms from his past, Gabriel mused, phantoms of the pact that had driven him to betray Hyrule. It was a bargain he had made years before, promising his loyalty in exchange for power whose likes he could only dream of. The brown-haired king shuddered as he remembered the night years before when he had sold his soul to the master.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_The winds swept over the rolling moors of Northern Hyrule, howling like the tortured spirits of the Dark Realm. Rain came down in sheets, saturating the clinging heather of the region, foliage drained of color by the dark suffocating clouds. It was a dark and stormy night like no other before it._

_In the midst of the furious beating of the storm a dark silhouette outlined itself against the forbidding sky. It was a sickly shape, ill-proportioned and abandoned, like the grasping claw of some ancient leviathan reaching out of a crumbling prison. In actuality, it was a fortified tower from a time long forgotten. Linked with dark legends by the few locals of the area, the monument was feared and avoided by all. None dared enter it, and few came within a league of its ominous form, but that night, for the first time in centuries a pale light gleamed from a slitted window high above the moor._

_Far below, a lone figure rode haltingly through the clashing elements, wrapped in a dark cloak already drenched in rain. He struggled forward, bent almost flat along the back of his horse. The wind shrieked around him, buffeting him ceaselessly with sheets of water as it toiled to prevent him from reaching the tower. Above him like a dark beacon the twisted claw awaited his arrival with a malovent presence that dominated even the storm._

_Lightening flashed and crackled illuminating the tower, if only for a moment, in all its ancient glory. The sound came a moment later with a dull boom that barely penetrated the shrieking wind. It also started the traveller's horse, who spurred himself into a beleaguered gallop toward the tower. Somehow the animal had sensed that shelter lay inside its dark maw._

_Finally reaching the narrow gate of the tower, the lone figure dismounted awkwardly and staggered forward. He stopped just in front and raised a hand, as if summoning the courage to continue. His hand wavered a moment, but the fates eventually prevailed With a note of finality, the figure beat once on the door, the sound entirely lost in the din of the storm. He did not knock again, but lowered his hands to his sides and waited._

_The gate swung inward to allow the traveller and his equine companion passage and then closed immediately after them, plunging the interior into complete darkness. Muted and distant the storm raged, its voice dampened by the thick stone walls. Both horse and traveller were thankful to be out of the storm, but both also could feel the ancient evil ingrained into the very stones around them._

_A single light flickered into existence across the entryway, momentarily blinding the traveller with its brilliance. It flickered momentarily, but stayed alive, its wane flame struggling desperately against the inky blackness. "Follow" a voice whispered from the centre of the light and the figure did, leaving his horse to the darkness._

_The figure felt himself ascending stairs, but could not see the physical shapes beneath his feet. He could see nothing but the light ahead. To him, he had stepped into a different world entirely, a plane of nothingness consumed by darkness. He continued forward on the invisible stair, aware that he could no longer even hear the storm._

_To the traveller, lost in the shadows of the tower, the stairway took hours to ascend. In actuality, it was only minutes before the steps levelled out into a carpeted landing, but the man had no way of knowing it. Deprived of visual contact with reality around him time seemed to stretch and give way, broken by the looming blackness. _

_In front of the solitary figure, the weak flame died altogether with only a last, beleagured flicker to mark its passage. Lost in the grand chamber, the traveller groped blindly forward towards the last place he had seen the flame. Many would have turned their backs on the otherworldly tower and descended into the roaring storm, but the traveller had been called to this desperate refuge by a purpose. A purpose that he couldn't refuse._

_Almost crawling along the heavy carpet of the mysterious chamber, the figure slowly worked his way forward with methodical deliberateness. Without the use of his eyes he was helpless to any menace within the expanse of the ancient room, but the possibility did nothing to stop him. He had become a vulnerable insect crawling slowly across the vast and dangerous territory of the unknown._

_Finally, his hands came in contact with the solid oak of the great door that led to the heart of the tower. Fingers scrabbling upward across the flat vertical expanse, the figure resembled a lost soul clawing at the closed doors of the sacred realm. Doomed, but not ready to accept the fates. He paused for a moment, grasping the bar that would open the door in front of him, a man poised on the edge of the precipice. Then with one flowing motion, he twisted it and pushed the great oaken expanse ajar._

_Though there was only a small fire burning in the room beyond, it almost blinded the lone traveller after his sojourn in the complete darkness of the entryway. White flashes passed slowly across his vision as he struggled to see clearly, squinting against the shock of the flickering light. As his gaze haltingly cleared the figure could discern little more about the chamber than he had already guessed. Besides the small fire in the corner the room was strangely sparse, with few other furnishings. No tapestries brightened the shadowy walls and the plush carpet in the entry-hall ended abruptly at the door. _

_The only object of note was a great throne in the centre of the room. It was obviously ancient with ornate inscriptions and details carved into its black marble. As it was turned away from the door the traveller could not see if it was occupied, but once it began to turn slowly toward him the answer quickly became apparent._

_A black cloak masked the features of the mysterious figure in the chair and the flickering firelight did little to illuminate them. There was no way for the traveller to ascertain the identity of the man, but he felt no need to. Who-ever it was, he held the answer to the traveller's quest._

_The traveller pulled back his hood, letting his brown locks hang free and bowed low to the floor. He did not rise, but continued to kneel, waiting for the figure in the marble chair to speak. Long after he had become uncomfortable, the silence was finally broken._

_"I have called you here for a purpose." the seated figure began, a surprisingly harsh voice echoing from the hood of the black cloak. "A purpose which you have been destined for since birth."_

_The traveller looked up abruptly from his position on the floor surprised by the confidence in the man's voice. Doubt flickered in his eyes, but also a hunger for something he could not have described. Something that he believed the man in the chair could give him._

_Sensing his audience's doubt the figure began to speak again. "Do not question! For my master has long awaited this day and the events that will follow after. You have been chosen from among many to aid him."_

_The figure leaned forward and stared silently at the traveller. It's hood was a black pool that the traveller felt himself being drawn into, gathered and shadowed by the darkness. From within the mesmerizing hood came a low whisper that could impossibly be heard everywhere in the room. "My master has the power to give you anything you desire, riches, power, immortality, it is all possible. Join us and the world will kneel at your feet, flee this chance and your soul will join the others in the Dark Realm this hour._

_It is your choice."_

_The traveller shifted nervously from one foot to another, pondering the choice before him. The risks were great, but he had not come to the tower of darkness to worry about risk. He was a man who would have entered the Dark Realm itself for the power he suspected the black figure's master could give him._

_Raising his shoulder defiantly the traveller started to answer. "There is no man in this world that can do such things, either in our beyond the hold of the Cycle"_

_The figure laughed harshly, a sound that echoed harshly off the stone wall of the chamber. It seemed to make the shadows barely penetrated by the weak fire close in further, like an opaque fog rolling inward from the walls. The traveller shivered involuntarily and took a step backward. "It has been a long time since my master was confined to the restraints of a man. As for the constraints of the Cycle...they too will soon fall to his power" His voice took on a dangerous undertone. "You would do well not to mock him."_

_Steeling himself the traveller took the first step in selling his soul to the shadows before him. "I do not know if your master can do everything you say, but your offer is too difficult to refuse" He paused, teetering on the precipice of a decision. "Give my Hyrule and I will do whatever you say. Give it to me...and I am yours forever."_

_The robed figure cackled violently and threw off his cloak. The traveller gave an abrupt start as he perceived the cruel face of the King of Aratia. It was a face so filled with malice that all the normal human characteristics were hardly recognizable. "Hyrule will be yours, for however long you want it...I give you my word. My master will be pleased that you have joined us."_

_All joviality disappeared from the King's face and stared through dark eyes at the lone traveller before him. Shadowy figures appeared from the corners of the room and formed a half-circle at the man's shoulder. Their nightmarish faces stared grotesquely at the cloaked mortal before them, obvious sources of the evil that permeated the room. "This is what you must do," the King of Aratia began..._


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Zelda sighed, staring at the empty door Demon had inhabited seconds before. She had tried to reach him, but her attempt had failed. Once again, he had disappeared into the vast unknown where Zelda could not find him. Still centring her gaze on the doorway, she briefly considered following him, chasing the warrior of darkness back into the forest. It was a notion she quickly discarded, knowing full well she was no match for the speed or woodcraft of the Demon. Zelda would just have to wait for destiny to force them back together. Fate was the one obstacle, she mused, that he could not overcome. Surprisingly, the princess found herself truly caring for the black-clad warrior's fate...and not just because he was the Hero of Time.

She collapsed back down onto the blankets she had slept in, suddenly tired from the emotional tension Demon inspired. She felt herself drifting off once more into a world apart from the one in which she lived. But instead of finding repose from her troubles, she dreamed herself into the world into a world of shadow and fire, frantically running from something she could not escape

When Zelda finally awoke much later, the sun had already sunk far below the horizon. Unable to see in the opaque blackness of the chamber, the princess groped her way to the doorway and found herself looking out upon what seemed to be a cloud of fireflies wavering slowly among the trees. Sheathed in the darkness of night, the small glowing figures painted beautiful shadows upon the flowing contours of the trees. Plunging the sombre reality of darkness into a surreal world beyond conflict, beyond pain, beyond…

Standing upright on the ledge which served as a pathway in the elevated village, Zelda flashed back to the peaceful face of Impa, its outline jumping to her mind. Her nurse had entered this forest, seen the glories of its timeless eaves. She had braved the dangers of the unknown and given herself over to forces older than time. Why, Zelda wondered, her eyes misting slightly as she remembered once again the death of her friend, had Impa entered the Great Forest?

Rubbing the beginnings of tears out of her eyes, the princess gaze was attracted once again to the vision in front of her. The peace of the twilight scene appealed to her, beckoning her once again to the place where troubles were forgotten. It was a sight that Zelda would have been content to observe with no need to determine what physical anomaly was creating the myriad of lights, but the sources revealed themselves as a glowing orb drifted slowly toward the princess.

A small glowing fairy appeared, a tiny girl with luminescent wings and a simple white shift. Zelda stared in fascination at the tiny figure before her, hardly believing that such a being could really exist.

The fairy's voice was surprising loud for such a tiny creature, even with the starkly silent to contrast. It was the pure sound of a bell over a clear dawn and the beauty of it made Zelda feel like a small child once more. Nowhere had the princess heard someone with a voice to match the richness of the fairy's.

"I hope you slept well princess?" the fairy asked, hovering slowly in the air a little beyond Zelda's balcony.

Somehow Zelda found her voice and managed to answer. "Yes, I did...thank-you...very much for letting me stay here."

The fairy laughed, a beautiful cascading sound that was strangely incongruous with the tiny body it resounded from. "You are obviously not familiar with fairies. But I cannot fault you for it, not many of your race are."

Zelda nodded, grateful for the tiny figure's understanding. She felt once again like a small child under the supervision of a loving mother or caretaker. Too feel shy toward a tiny fairy barely as tall as her outstretched palm was strangely disconcerting, but the princess could not deny the emotion was present. Fingering a strand of her golden blonde hair she waited for the fairy to begin speaking once more.

"There was a time," the fairy began, her voice pre-occupied "When Hylians knew of our existence. Even came into the forest to seek us. But it is long past, and we… are forgotten."

With a start the fairy shifted her attention back to Zelda and shifted slightly.

"I am sorry princess, I have not properly introduced myself or my race." The tiny creature paused and then began to speak "We are the partner of the Kokihiri, immortal like they, but able to mature past childhood. We are their playmates, guides, councillors, and..." the tiny creature turned and gestured at the gathering of tiny lights behind her, "We also shed light for them in times of darkness."

Zelda leaned forward, only half-hearing the words of the fairy as the picture before her abruptly transformed. Instead of tiny fireflies floating randomly in the darkness the lights became little fairies guiding Kokihiri children around the living city of trees. Hundreds of lamps, illuminating the true path through a sea of shadow. It was a sight whose beauty took the princess's breath away.

The princess's attention snapped back to the fairy in front of her as the creature curtsied low and introduced herself. "My name is Navi and I, as you already know, am a fairy of the Great Forest. I have been sent to be your guide during your sojourn here with the Kokihiri." The small fairy's brow furrowed slightly as she glanced past Zelda into the chamber from which the princes had come. "I am sorry princess, but I was told that there were two visitors. Is the other still in slumber?"

Zelda's face twisted slightly as the circumstances of Demon's departure crossed her mind. "The other…has already left. I am sorry for the inconvience."

A moment of silence passed between the two, Hylian and fairy both lost in thought. Eventually the fairy responded, smoothing any awkwardness Zelda's statement had caused. "I weep with you princess. For I have been told of the difficulty of your position. He will come back, princess, destiny is too powerful a bond to be denied. "

The princess wished she could believe the fairy, but the look she had seen in Demon's eyes thwarted her. She was not sure even destiny could prevail on the black-clad warrior. "I truly hope so." she finally said, unable to quell the doubt which had awoken in her mind.

The fairy curtseyed slightly, a movement which ended the topic of conversation. "As I have said before I am to be your guide, our village is always somewhat hard for outsiders to navigate."

"Thank you," with a smile that became somewhat less joyous as a thought occurred to her. "But I would not want to deprive your partner of his fairy."

The tiny fairy sighed and a sudden sadness filled her voice. "Think nothing of it for my partner is gone...Follow me please and I will take you to a place where you may refresh yourself." With that, the fairy began to float away, the light she gave off providing Zelda with a means with which to follow.

Sensing that the fairy wanted nothing more said on the topic Zelda remained silent, asked no more questions of Navi for the entire journey. As she was led through the dark, thick canopy of the tree-tops she could see other Kokohiri moving all around. Some were talking, others playing and cavorting, but all lived under the watchful light of their fairy partners. Even the wood under Zelda's feet seemed to cradle the immortal children protectively in a living embrace.

Floating slowly up another staircase much like the one Zelda had traversed earlier, the fairy led the princess to a higher level and what looked like the main hall of the canopy village. Three great trunks, fused together at the level of the hall had abruptly ended, creating a huge flat platform upon which the tiny feet of the Kokihiri danced endlessly. Giant limbs growing out of the side of the natural wonder continued outward and eventually upward, providing both access to it and shelter from the elements. Once again, Zelda was reminded of the ancient relationship between the Kokihiri and the Great Forest.

To her surprise, instead of leading her onto the platform and great hall before her, the fairy led Zelda into a small chamber of two the side. Spiralling slowly toward the entryway of the covered entryway of the chamber Navi slipped slowly between a gap in the curtains, leaving Zelda to push aside the covering herself. It was a task the princess accomplished gingerly, a little fearful of whatever strange wonder would greet her inside.

A cloud of steam greeted Zelda as she pushed aside the curtain and the golden-haired girl found herself in a bathhouse. In the middle a large depression easily half Zelda's height and four times as long as it was high was filled with steaming water. Around it, carpets and towels had been laid on the ground to cushion the hard wood beneath. To the princess, who had not bathed since leaving Malon, it was a heavenly sight.

Navi dropped down from spot near the ceiling to glide smoothly around the rim of the pool. The tiny fairy uttered another of her laughs when she caught the look of pure joy on Zelda's face. Then, when an expression of hesitation entered the princess's gaze the fairy quickly dispelled it. "Yes, princess it is for you."

"It is just..." Zelda began, looking longingly at the steaming bath. "It must be so hard to pump water so high and even more so to heat it. I am...unworthy."

The fairy laughed once again, this time a kind sound that did much to reassure Zelda. "The trees provide it and heat it naturally with the innate magic of the forest. This pool has been steaming hot and crystal clear for as long as I remember. It is another gift of the Great Deku Tree."

The princess needed no more encouragement and without another second's hesitation she undressed and slipped into the pool. The fairy called quietly and a Kokohiri girl came into the chamber and quickly exited, removing Zelda's Shiekah outfit for washing. If she had been aware of it, the princess's modesty may have made her uncomfortable, she was unclothed in the presence of a stranger, but the bliss of the invigorating water had transported her to a place far beyond the village of the trees.

When the princess finally left the bath it was much later, late enough to be called almost the first hours of a new day. Zelda was finally clean, and her hair fell in glistening tresses behind her. Her Sheikan outfit had been laid beside her, scrubbed back to an unblemished white by the Kokihiri girl. A girl who had smiled with the simple pleasure of a child at the princess's heartfelt gratitude. After she had dressed once more, Zelda felt like a new person, refreshed both physically and mentally by the waters of the pool.

The fairy, which had left for almost the entire duration of the bath had finally returned and was hovering along the ceiling of the chamber. "A feast is being held in your honour, princess." Navi began, "If it pleases you, I will lead you to it."

Zelda began to tuck her hair into the back of her white costume and then, thinking better of it, let it hang free behind her. "Yes please," Zelda answered "But before I leave, I thank you once more for the bath."

The fairy curtsied, a disconcerting act when performed in mid air and spoke quietly "It is my pleasure, princess. It is nice...to have a partner once more." With that, the fairy turned and flew quickly out of the tent. Zelda followed, wondering again at the mysterious partner Navi had been referring to.

Outside the bath chamber, the Kokihiri fairy's partners had formed a ceiling over the great hall Zelda had seen earlier. Under their watchful gaze the immortal children of the forest played and ate, feasting from huge baskets in the centre of the platform. Awestruck, the princess glided across a limb and onto the great open space of the hall. All around her Kokihiri stopped their activities and bowed low, placing toys and food carefully aside and prostrating themselves on the ground. A bubble of silence expanded around her as Zelda advanced slowly toward the centre of the hall.

Within moments, the all the children were silent and Zelda stared bewilderedly out upon a vastly different scene than she had moments before. Steeling herself she began to speak, the princess who had ruled Hyrule taking over. "My friends," she pleaded, raising her hands in a beseeching gesture, "Bowing is not necessary. You have honoured me already many times tonight."

The Kokihiri levered themselves to their knees, but did not rise. Instead they whispered urgently among themselves until the girl that had led Zelda to the Kokihiri village in the first place was nudged forward. The girl stared earnestly up at Zelda with large brown eyes and explained shyly to Zelda. "You're a princess." she began, clasping her hands self-consciously behind her back, "We've never met a princess before... but we've heard all about you from the fairies."

"And you really are as beautiful as the stories say." the girl added quickly and disappeared back into the crowd of Kokihiri. After she left the children got to their feet and ran forward to surround the princess, staring up at her face and reaching out to tentatively grasp her outstretched fingers.

Questions reigned down from all around onto Zelda. "Do ya really live in a castle?" one blonde-haired boy asked excitedly, his expression changed to one of wonder as Zelda nodded. "You really do."

Another little girl tugged on Zelda's hand with enthusiasm. "Is it true you have a different dress every day?" The princess smiled at the child's shining eyes; the children were immortal, but still as innocent as the day they were born. Compared to the evil-ridden world around them, the Kokihiri were truly a miracle.

After a few moments, the fairies decided enough was enough and swarmed down from above to lead their partners away from the beleaguered princess. Each Kokihiri child looked back longingly at Zelda, but followed their fairy-partners obediently. . Navi joined her from among the throng and landed lightly on the princess's shoulder. Tugging softly, the fairy led Zelda over to a great wooden chair wreathed with laurels in the centre of the ring of baskets. Zelda sat down gratefully on the chair and at Navi's encouragement, pulled a fruit from within one of the baskets.

Zelda stared in joyful bewilderment at the immortal children before her. They laughed and danced, neither tired nor aware of how late the night had become. Swallowing her mouthful of fruit Zelda shared her mind with Navi. "How did they become like this?" the princess asked, "Innocent as a newborn, but living forever."

The fairy sight and drew her knees up beneath the hem of her shift. "You ask at the very heart of the mystery of the Kokihiri, what has been told to very few mortals through-out the ages..."

"I am sorry," Zelda said quickly "I did not mean to…"

Navi cut her off "No, it is alright princess. I would be honoured to tell you of our history." She paused for a moment, before starting the chronicles of her people. "When the world was first created, there were no Kokihiri, just the fairies who lived in the heart of the Great Wood. The first humans were ignorant to our existence and we were content to leave it that way, wandering alone with the spirits of the trees."

A note of pain entered the fairies voice and through it, Zelda could feel the anguish of a thousand years of suffering and bloodshed. It was the mourning of hundreds of beings, rolled into one voice. "When the first Cycle came to pass and evil first touched the earth the bloodshed was terrible. Nations fell, cities were murdered to the last child, and the world was plunged into darkness."

The fairy continued slowly, weaving the ancient stories with the history of the Cycle. "We fairies retreated to the depths of the Great Wood." Navi continued "And hid there from the encroaching evils that surrounded us...But we could not entirely hide. Many of the children who were left orphans by the great wars wandered into the woods or were forced into them to starve. The fairies took pity on them and cast ancient spells to remove them from the Cycle and protect them from evil. These children became the Kokihiri you see around them."

The fairy seemed reluctant to continue, but finally resumed her story. "You see, it is the fairy who chooses the child. Each of us bonded with one little girl or boy and from then on they were our eternal partners. Kokihiri cannot be killed or destroyed; they are as immortal as the Goddesses themselves. Never again will they suffer the hardships they endured outside the forest."

Still sitting on the princess's shoulder Navi hunched forward and stared vacantly into the crowd of dancing children. "Few before you have been told this story, in fact, only two."

Zelda shifted slightly "Would one of those two happen to be a women named Impa?"

Clearly startled, Navi flew off the princess's shoulder and hovered close in front of her face. "Why do you suspect that princess?" The fairies eyebrows were furrowed in worry.

Zelda sighed, remembering the death of her nurse. It had been only days before, but it seemed so long ago. She felt as if the pain had always been with her, tugging at her heart. "I do not know." the golden-haired princess whispered, turning away from the fairy. "She was a good woman with whom I loved very much...Yet I am beginning to wonder how much of Impa I really knew."

The great feast continued on around them, children dancing and singing joyfully under the watchful gaze of their fairy partner. A few were still watching the princess with awe-filled eyes, but most had moved back to their games. Zelda would have thought their laughter and song would have seemed out of place among the sombre trees of the great forest, but strangely, it became as much a part of the woods as the Great Deku Tree himself.

Navi floated back into Zelda's field of vision. "Do not doubt Impa. She was a great woman in her own way, the last of a long line." Navi floated closer. "Never question her loyalty to you."

The memory of Impa too painful, Zelda changed the topic of conversation quickly. "You have mentioned that it is impossible to harm a Kokihiri, but you talk about your own partner as if long dead..." The princess's realized she had broached a delicate topic, but was eager to turn the conversation away from her former nurse.

The fairy stiffened slightly and for a moment the beat of her wings slowed, but she quickly recovered. "That is something I tell very few, but as I have already mentioned it several times tonight you deserve to know."

Navi sighed and her eyes took on a far-away look, her beautiful voice underlaced with sorrow. "When the fairies first chose their child partners I alone was told by the Great Deku Tree to not bond with any human. He said that my partner would come to the forest far in the future, and he- for he said my Kokihiri would be a boy- would be a champion among the forest children."

The fairy settled once more on Zelda's should and leaned heavily against the princess's neck. "And so I waited and the end of the Cycle came and many more after it. I began to believe that my day would never come and the prophecy had been a lie. Eventually, I even retreated from the other fairies and became lost in the endless melancholy of the woods."

"But one morning long ago," the fairy continued, "I was called by the Great Deku Tree and told my partner had finally arrived. I found him and completed my bond and those years...those years were the happiest of my existence."

Navi gave a soft sight that went straight to Zelda's heart and cupped her face in her hands. "It was over seven years ago he that he left the boundaries of this forest, never to return...For a while I could sense his presence, travelling slowly over the wide world, but even that mild comfort was taken from me two years ago." The fairy bowed her head even further. "My partner was unlike the rest of the Kokihiri, his destiny was too strong to completely surrender to the bond I placed upon it. I fear that despite my bond...he is dead."

The princess did not respond, not really knowing what to say to the grieving fairy. Zelda truly wished there was a way to take away the tiny creatures pain, but it was a problem neither her title nor her destiny could fix. If Navi's partner had truly died, than the fairy would have the rest of time to remember her inconsolable grief."

Navi finally broke the silence, with a melancholy tone that stood in stark contrast to the festival around them. A small tear was sliding gently down her cheek, a tiny jewel faceted by the fairy's glow. "If it pleases you princess, I wish to take a small sojourn into the forest."

Zelda nodded understandingly "Please do as you wish...I am sorry...for asking you such a personal question."

Without another word, the fairy flew off towards the edge of the platform, dodging between celebrators. Watching the tiny creature live, Zelda reprimanded herself once more for causing Navi such pain. Her curiosity was not worth the sorrow she had inflicted on the fairy. The princess let a tear fall herself, for the tragic plight of the little fairy and her immortal partner.

When Zelda, under a different fairy's guiding light, finally returned to her chamber the first streaks of dawn could be seen between the spreading limbs of the trees. She turned abruptly to watch the feeble rays descend into the foliage and caught a flash of something disappearing behind the great girth of a trunk. It was just a glimpse, a fleeting patch of darkness flying from the approach of dawn, but it seemed to Zelda that it should have been important. Time paused as she stood frozen in though and then the moment vanished. Turning Zelda passed over the threshold and entered her chamber.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Gabriel awoke to find himself gasping, his sheets soaked with sweat. He surveyed his dark chamber with wide, terrified eyes that hardly calmed as he realized that he was still inside the royal quarters of Hyrule Castle. In his mind, the demons were still after him and their master was becoming impatient...

His dreams had been haunted by the vengeful face of the King of Aratia. "_You will fulfill your promise._" the face had screamed eyes blazing with hatred and power. Gabriel had run, but the King had stayed with him effortlessly, growing larger and larger until even the shadows that cloaked him could no longer hide his gargantuan proportions. Cowering in the dirt, fear had gripped Gabriel's mind, but it had been the later portions of his dream that had truly terrified him.

Abruptly, the giant head had disappeared and Gabriel had been left alone in the darkness of his dream. Darkness that became like a living thing, moving slowly to smother Gabriel in its shadowy embrace. The King of Hyrule had resisted, putting up a doomed struggle against it, but before long it had rendered him immobile, filling up his mouth and nose, seeping into his eyes... Gabriel shuddered and tore his mind off the subject, searching desperately for something to occupy his senses.

Still sweeping his gaze around the room Gabriel tried to calm himself with the regal scene. It was a view he had quickly become used to after his ascension to kingship, but even the reminder of his kingship over Hyrule failed to inspire its usual comfort. Too many times, he had witnessed a dark figure slide from one of the corners to deliver messages that became more threatening as time passed. The king had tried to resist, but as he sat among his tousled sheets Gabriel realized that he had no strength left to continue. Already, the fear of the dark-cloaked watchers dominated his life; it was time to fulfill his side of the bargain.

In one corner, a great painting of the Triforce dominated the wall and it was to this painting that Gabriel strode. Pausing in front of the painting, Gabriel ran his fingers lightly over the edge of the canvas, searching for one of the greatest secrets of the Hylian nobility.

He closed his eyes and felt the canvas under his fingers, the rough texture grating harshly against his skin. Finding a slight ridge of stone, Gabriel ran his finger upward, following the ridge toward the centre of the painting. The line ran into the middle of the Triforce symbol through one of the golden triangles which made up the figure. It was exactly as the King of Aratia had told him, instructions burned eternally into his mind. _Follow the ridge; it will lead you to the key._

As his fingers found the abrupt end of the ridge, Gabriel found himself caressing the exact centre of the Triforce image. He paused for a moment, unwilling to continue as he realized the enormity of his actions. He was betraying everything that his family, country, and even the Gods had ever stood for. But, he reasoned, his emotions abruptly swinging as he pushed the hidden button beneath the tapestry, once his new master got control even the Gods would be helpless against his power.

Gabriel felt a slight click as the piece of stone that formed the hidden catch depressed fully. He stepped back in amazement as a section of the wall turned silently, revealing a large alcove. It seemed impossible that the stone door had turned so easily, but Gabriel had long ago learned that Hyrule Castle had not been made by human hands

Gabriel approached the hidden chamber slowly, searching for any ancient traps laid by Hylian royalty before him. The secret he beheld was easily important enough to ensure a lethal security measure. But his master had said nothing about any trap...

Closing his eyes, the King of Hyrule stepped slowly into the alcove. Only the fear of his distant master kept him from bolting away, but as he crossed the threshhold no hidden device ended his existence. It proved once again that the King of Aratia had knowledge that no mortal man could ever have gained. Another example of the power that had been promised Gabriel.

Laughing quietly to himself, the brown-haired regent surveyed the objects in front of him. _They are the Sacred Stones of Hyrule, used to unlock the Door to the Sacred Realm. With them, we can begin to free our master from his prison. _The voice of Aratia's king echoed in Gabriel's ears, coursing through his system and causing the shadows to leap in his soul. _For our master, despite all his power in this world, is chained in the Dark Realm. Only a tiny fragment of him can affect our world, but soon...soon he will rule all. The Sacred Stones are the first step towards our master's return. Find them Gabriel and you will be rewarded with power beyond your wildest dreams._

The first stone was the Zora Sapphire, embedded in a circlet of solid gold. Waves of ocean-blue beat ceaselessly against the walls of their prison as they sloshed and fell inside the azure stone. Staring hard at it, Gabriel felt himself slipping into a sea of crystal liquid, soothed by the calming touch of the waters.

Fiery red tongues danced enticingly among the swirling scarlet of the second stone. The Goron Ruby, set in gleaming gold, radiated power like the volcano that had formed it. A flame burned deep within its vibrant heart, drawing Gabriel inside an inferno.

Sitting between the other two, the third stone had neither the violence nor the power of its fellows. Instead the Forest Emerald was a simple orb imprisoning the dancing patterns of shadow that floats ethereal across a forest floor. It was the heart of the wild woods contained in the insignificant confines of a tiny stone.

Pulling himself away from the mesmerizing beauty of the ancient stones Gabriel quickly scooped them into a hidden pouch in his long robe. As soon as they departed from his sight the Hylian king felt a tingling sense of loss, but it did not deter him from his task. He spun on one heel and walked out of the chamber, refusing to look back at the empty stand where the stones had sat for untold years. It was not until he turned to exit his chamber did Gabriel realize the entrance to the secret alcove had closed silently behind him, leaving no evidence of the king's misdeeds.

Gabriel strode purposefully through the bustling halls of the castle, heading towards the lower levels. The Sacred Stones felt heavy in the pocket of his newly-acquired robes with the dragging weight of guilt stalking his conscience. Everywhere, servants and nobles alike scurried to clear his path, their expressions of servitude making them, for a few fleeting seconds, equal in the king's eyes. But Gabriel devoted no thought to the matter; too intent was he on the task ahead. _Bring the stones to the Temple of Time, the_ King of Aratia had said, _and place them in the slots in front of the Door. Then nothing, in this world or the Sacred Realm, will be able to stop us._

Stepping slowly into the large hall of the first floor Gabriel called a servant to him and sent for a horse. The king watched him until he disappeared from view and then set about gathering a proper retinue. It would not do, Gabriel supposed, for a monarch to ride alone through the streets of his city. Men scurried about, arranging an impromptu excursion for their leader, neither aware nor suspicious of the abruptness of his request.

Stalking out into the courtyard impatiently, Gabriel surveyed the white blanket which lay over the castle walls angrily. With the onset of winter a few weeks before had come snow in amounts which had previously been unheard of in the encompassments of Hyrule Field. Never before had the winter come as early or as cold and few even in Castle-town had been prepared. Rumours had reached him of peasants and beggars freezing to death even inside the confines of the city, but Gabriel had quickly passed them from his mind. He had no time for the plight of his subjects, at the moment only his master deserved the focus of his attention.

Within minutes a procession had been assembled, complete with heralds and guards called from the walls to protect their king. Gabriel surveyed it with satisfaction, enjoying the power that lay at his fingertips and anticipating more. Without a sound, he mounted his horse and directed the riders out of the gate, onto the streets of Castle-town. "Take me to the Temple of Time." he whispered hoarsely to his attendant "For I feel the need to worship."

The king's attendant, a small man with quick eyes and a sharp mind looked at his liege quizzically, wondering at the change in the normally non-religious monarch. Worshiping the gods was an occupation usually reserved for the odd Hylian fanatic, fired up by the legends of the past. The steward could even recall hearing his king laugh at the idea of worshiping in conversations past. But, the small man mused as he shook his gaze from Gabriel, if the king wishes it than it will happen. He had learned long before that his monarch did many things that seemed strange in the eyes of his servants.

A light snowfall began, sprinkling the procession with powder as they continued their march through the streets of Castle-town. The few citizens trudging through the mire of past snowfalls raised a ragged cheer in Gabriel's direction, but the king hardly noticed. His attention was fixated on the muted spires of the distant temple.

The Temple of Time was a great pearly white structure which loomed over every other building in Castle-Town except the castle itself. Like to the castle, the inhabitants of Castle-Town did not know how it had originated, believing they had been a product of the same ancient Gods the temple had been built to worship. It was a great eaved building resplendent with inlaid stones and silver. Inside a great altar stood before an immovable door emblazoned with the symbol of the Triforce. A door which legend said led into the Sacred Realm.

As the procession came to a halt in front of the temple Gabriel ordered them to a halt and jumped off his horse. Striding hurriedly into the temple he threw an order over his shoulder for them to wait outside and not disturb him before disappearing into the shadowed confines of the building. Exchanging worried glances the assembled servants did so, wondering how long it would be before their king emerged.

As Gabriel entered the great hall of the temple he stopped abruptly, searching the chamber for others. A thin glow seemed to escape from the pearly surfaces of the walls and ceiling, which rose to a great height above his head. The altar itself was a great pedestal inlaid with silver, looming out from the smooth tiles of the temple floor.

The voice came floating from his memory, brought on whispery threads by fear and shadows. _Place the stones on the altar and break the bonds of time and space. Then speak his name, and call our master from his prison. _Sweat broke out on Gabriel's face as he stepped forward, the floor swaying beneath his feet. The Triforce stared accusingly onward, cursing the act of betrayal happening before it. The temple itself seemed to hold its breath as Gabriel strode towards the altar.

Reverently taking the three stones from his pocket Gabriel paused over the altar, cloak hanging limp in the still air of the temple. It was a last chance to save himself, to save the country he ruled and to redeem his actions. Darkness stirred inside him, reaching through time from a night long before in an abandoned tower. "_Free me." _it whispered and Gabriel felt an unearthly cold sweep over his body. His hand only partially under his control, he plunged the stones into depressions on the altar, completing the ancient bond between the two.

As the last stone clicked into a place a blinding light filled the temple with holy illumination. The king fell backward onto the marble floor, shying away from the spectacle before him as a blinding sphere of light encircled the altar and rang faintly in the silence. It pulsed expectantly, waiting for the ancient ritual to be completed, but Gabriel had neither the means nor the knowledge to finish what he had started. Instead, he turned to an entirely different magic.

_Call, my name, _the voice whispered, _liberate me from this prison. _Remembering the words of his master, Gabriel shakily dragged himself to his feet. He stood tall, glaring defiantly into the heart of the blazing sphere.

"By the power of the Cycle," he began his voice gaining volume as the words of power rolled from his lips "By the power of the darkness. By the power of my master and the ancient shadow. Come!"

He paused, readying himself before calling out to the immortal evil of the Cycle in fulfillment of a ritual older than the world itself. "Gannondorf!" he proclaimed, his voice harshening into a roar which recoiled from the temple walls. "Come!" The sphere of light faltered, its core turning a sickly grey and then black, the dull ringing rising into a screaming wind which tore viciously through the temple. Once again Gabriel was knocked to his knees as the sphere in front of him broke into ragged shards and disappeared. In its place, an impenetrable cyclone of darkness had formed, pulsing rapidly and quickly gaining intensity.

The Temple grew instantly dark as the torches which illuminated it were extinguished and the chamber was plunged into shadow. The great door upon which the symbol of the Triforce had eternally shone shuddered slightly as if assaulted from the interior by a great force. It's dull boom cut even through the scream of the wind and was quickly followed by another. Again and again the door was hammered upon; it's great girth vibrating under the hammering impacts. Peering hesitantly upward from his prone position, Gabriel could see fate changing before his very eyes

The winds rose in intensity and the shivering of the door increased in violence. Shadows and bits of flame climaxed in a whirling inferno above the temple altar, calling their master from the depths of the grave. The very air itself seemed tangibly dark, filled with millennia old evil. And then with a final terrible impact, the ancient evil of the Cycle began to rise.

Attacked by a force that could not be denied, the doors had finally begun to give, but even the great force called into being by Gabriel could not entirely defeat the powerful spells placed on the doors centuries before. The great gates of the Sacred Realm had not opened, surviving the supernatural barrage which had been unleashed upon them, but they had not come through unscathed. A long angry crack ran down their great expanse, cutting a piece of the Triforce entirely in two. It was through this crack that a shadowy cloud seeped. It ran in long, dark threads into the centre of the opaque mass above the altar, making its way across the threshold of worlds with ominous ease.

The cloud thrashed and swirled, fuelled by the malignant darkness from beyond the great doors. Howling and shrieking with intensity and menacing purpose the wind swirled around the vortex, condensing the shadows into one pulsating mass. A mass that before the horrified eyes of Gabriel began to take form.

A horse and rider became visible, formed of impenetrable blackness which shifted ethereally in the dim light. Strange jagged armour and raggedly decayed garments slowly took shape and form upon the shadowy limbs of the entity. In the most basic form, it was a man and his steed, but as if all the colors and light had been removed or distorted to form a demonic mockery of its mortal counterparts. So great was the horror of the supernatural monstrosity, that Gabriel hardly noticed the horses hooves, which floated more than an arms-length above the marble floor.

Then the vortex died, the shrieking winds abruptly ceasing. Even the shadows seeping through the angry crack which marred the face of the Great Temple doors waned to a trickle which quickly dissipated. Only the ominously dark outline of the shadowy rider remained unchanged, a great double-ended trident clutched in one gauntleted fist.

And then, with a great leap the phantom was gone from the interior of the temple as if called by fate, leaving Gabriel alone in the semi darkness. The King of Hyrule dragged himself to his feet like a man caught in a dream he could not escape, wanting to flee, but unable to persuade his legs to run. Transfixed by powers he could neither control nor comprehend he stood alone in the Great Temple of Hyrule


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The chamber was deathly still, exhausted by the enormous power which had only moments before clawed its way into existence. Torches which had previously illuminated the interior of the temple had been extinguished and hung dark and lifeless from the pale, faintly glistening walls. It was the deep sigh of relief that occurs after a violent storm.

To Gabriel, stranded in the centre of the great chamber, it was the final sign of his surrender to the darkness. Power, power to split the very skies was within his grasp, but still a tiny part of him shied away with whispers of betrayals and doom. Like the rustling of his royal cape against the flagstones when he turned from the altar, the warnings were audible, but too quiet to be taken into serious consideration.

The return of daylight partially blinded the King with its intensity after the gloom of the temple. Interspersed with the swirling snow of winter the light was muted, but it played with Gabriel's vision none-the-same. Creating illusions of explosions and colourful objects in the space around him.

Out of the dancing shapes he discerned a figure hurriedly approaching from the cluster of servants which formed his procession. There was an almost tangible air of fear attached to the figure, like a shimmering cloud through which joy and laughter could not penetrate. The Hylian servants stood muted and still behind it with shock fresh upon their faces.

Gabriel squinted, clearing the last of the flashes from his eyes, before identifying the man as one of his military captains. In fact, as the King of Hyrule peered at the man's face, it was the most prominent war captain in all of Hyrule. A man who, for decades, had kept Hyrule out of the clutches of its neighbouring countries through sheer strategic skill in the face of insurmountable odds.

He was of a noble house, with strikingly intelligent eyes that pierced deep into the souls of friends and foes alike. Despite his more than sixty years, his pure white hair was thick and cropped close to his skull. The commander was not an ugly man, but the intensity of his countenance drew any thought away from its handsomeness. War, present in both his gaze and his apparel, was his life, he had no time for other things.

But the normal intensity was gone from his eyes, replaced with a fear that the King of Hyrule had never seen there before. To Gabriel, they looked desperate and wild, like only the effects of decades of harsh training and discipline were keeping the commander's composure together. It was with this air of frantic desperation that the commander bowed to him.

As Gabriel watched him, he wondered what purpose had brought his war commander to Castle-Town. The man should have been camped on the border, organizing the scouts who patrolled the gateway to Aratia unceasingly. Times were dangerous, the Aratian army had been gathering on the border since late fall. Why had the man come back to Castle-Town…

His mind still cloaked in the supernatural events he had witnessed inside the temple Gabriel stared at the man, unable to fathom what force had driven him to come. Still framed in the arch-way of the Temple of Time, he stood for a second captured in time, poised on the knife-edge of destiny. But only a second, then it was gone, and time and fate had changed unalterably.

The War Commander of Hyrule finished his bow and straightened to ramrod precision. Controlled and disciplined, yet radiating despair, the man stood tall. A bastion of crumbling sand against the tides which threatened to engulf him. He lifted his gaze to meet Gabriel's before breaking the silence between them.

"They are coming,' he whispered, the commander's face struggling to remain neutral. "They will be here soon after nightfall."

Gabriel shivered slightly, dreadful realization stealing over him. His master had been freed at his hand, and now…now the price was being taken from him. The Aratians were marching on Hyrule, preparing to plunge his country into a sea of blood. Things had moved beyond his control, and now there was no stopping them. Gabriel had witnessed the power of his master, witnessed the murderous intentions of the King of Aratia. With a sagging of shoulders Gabriel realized the obvious, Hyrule had no chance. It never had.

The world was changing, spinning out of reason or comprehension. The King of Hyrule placed a hand on the temple pillar beside him for support as his unseeing eyes stared past the man in front of him. _Fire and doom…fire and doom. _The words whispered their way through his head. What had he done, Gabriel wondered frantically, what had he done?

The commander interrupted the silence once more, his words sounding as if they were being wearily pulled from some dark void deep within the man's soul. "The overwhelmed us, we stood no chance." He paused and looked despairingly into the eyes of his king. "We cannot stop them this time…they are too many…and some of them…" he halted again, searching for words, "Some, are not human. They have nightmares with them, creatures from horror-stories. The scouts are all dead. I was let go to announce their invasion" The commander's strength finally gave up, his features crumpling together into terror and despair. He grabbed Gabriel's collar and pulled their faces close together. "My people" he hissed, "were eaten alive!"

***

Snow fell dark and swift over Hyrule Field, gathering in impassable drifts and mounds. The sky was filled with the swirling flakes which danced and spun like celestial performers. Color had been leeched from the land, leaving behind a landscape of white and grey.

In the midst of this grey world, Lon Lon Ranch stood forlorn and alone, it's walls caked with tiny granules of ice. As the drifts built up around it had begun to resemble the work of a giant child with a bucket and shovel. In fact it could have been the beginnings of a sandcastle left to decay among the cheer-less existence of winter.

Tramping through the storm, a line of red-cloaked figures became visible, and then another behind. File upon file of blood coloured uniforms stained the landscape as the army of Aratia marched across the plains. The extent of the army could not be seen through the blinding snow, but everywhere there were shadows moving. Some were clearly visible as men, walking upright upon the ground, but others were not so easily distinguishable.

There were a few shapes, here and there throughout the ranks of the Aratians which seemed twisted and grotesque, unlike the marching soldiers around them. Creatures of nightmares or worse which bowed only to the call of the Master. Some seemed like wolves, giants with glowing eyes, while others were like walking skeletons, carrying giant clubs of studded wood.

Even the Aratians themselves seemed to avoid the creatures, creating islands around them as the soldiers strove to remain distanced. They had seen the creatures tear a band of Hylian scouts to pieces and still, hours later, retained a healthy fear of the demonic forms. If not for their liege, the King of Aratia, they would never have joined forces with the monster. But as terrified of the creatures as they were, the soldiers were even more scared of their King.

Each man was dressed in crimson, the royal colours of Aratia, with a long spear strapped close across their backs. A short sword was belted at their side, along with the small dagger which served as both a piece of cutlery and a multi-purpose tool. At this, their resemblance ended. Some wore helmets of varying decoration and design, some carried shields emblazoned with their house or lineage. A few carried long-bows of great stature, but these bowmen were few and far between.

Glimpsing the protruding from of Lon Lon Ranch in the distance, a regiment changed courses slightly, angling toward the lonely settlement. Their marching feet increased in speed, anticipating the excitement of war and bloodshed. Like a crimson stain the soldiers crept closer to the ranch, tiny figures bringing destruction.

The King had given only one command to his army before unleashing them into the country of Hyrule. "Leave the Castle and its citizens for me." he had said, roaring into the crowds of soldiers before him, "Burn everything else." And the Aratian soldiers meant to do just that, bred on the brutal killings of the Arenas they thought nothing of murder or the heinous crimes associated with war.

***

Malon rushed down from the top of the gate and almost flew across the ranch enclosure, urgency driving her to speed greater than she had ever believed she could attain. The red-haired girl had seen the soldier approaching and anticipated their intent for her home. And Malon knew, without a doubt, the she and her father could not stop them.

It was to her father, Talon, that she now ran, to warn him of the approaching danger. Sprinting through the thick doors of the barn, she searched frantically for his familiar figure. As she peered into the homely darkness of the barn, she wished once again, as she had done thousands of times before, that Zelda was still with her. Ready to step in and take charge in a world which being pulled down onto the ranch-girl's head. Painfully, Malon shook the memories from her mind, Zelda was gone and Lon Lon, Malon's home, was in danger.

Her father was peacefully milking a cow in the corner, oblivious to the threat which was fast approaching his ranch. Malon rushed over and pulled him to his feet, her urgency making her rougher than she intended to be. Before Talon could voice his indignation, Malon rushed into speech. "The Aratians are coming!" she screamed, watching confusion and then terror jump into her father's eyes.

"So they're finally here," Talon muttered, clenching and unclenching his fists at is side. He stood for a moment, lost in thought, but then he spurred himself back to reality. Urgently, he grabbed his daughter's hand and pulled her slowly towards the back of the barn. "I have foreseen something like this," he whispered, continuing to pull Malon along, "And I have made preparations." Reaching the back of the barn, he pushed hard on an inconspicuous knot in one of the floor-boards. With a slight click the knot sank into the board, causing an entire section of floor to swing down into empty space beneath.

"It was an old cellar," Talon explained, glancing nervously at daylight through the open barn-doors, "But as we never needed use of it, it has sat empty. It just took a slight change to conceal the trapdoor and outfit it for other uses." Seeing the fear in his daughter's eyes, Talon paused in his speech to hug her comfortingly. "We'll be all right Malon, everything will be all right."

Malon pulled away, hysteria flashing in her eyes. "What about the horses?" she asked, her red hair dangling loosely over her shoulders. "We can't just leave them for the Aratians!"

"We have no other choice." Talon muttered tiredly, taking Malon's arm to lead her down into the cellar. "I am sorry." He stepped down into the subterrean chamber and motioned his daughter to follow.

Malon refused to comply, backing away from the hide-away. "I'll go lead them into the field, I can't just abandon them to die in here." She turned and ran to the end of the barn, opening stalls and jostling the horses out of them.

Talon, struggling back into the barn, yelled at her retreating form. "They are too close Malon! You'll never make it!"

Malon did not spare the second to turn and face her father, continuing to spur the horses out of the barn. "Well, at least I'll have tried." she retorted. With that, her figure disappeared into the snow-storm. Into the unknown of darkness and fear outside the barn.

Talon finally managed to pull himself completely out of the cellar. With a grunt of frustration he drove his fist into the barn wall with a dull thump and then began the frantic search to find his daughter. Feet pounding against the wooden floor of the barn and then the snow-clad ground outside he ran, blind in the storm, but knowing exactly what Malon was going to do. To a man who had spent his entire life riding horses around the ranch it was painfully obvious.

From somewhere nearby he heard the sound of harsh voices, calling to each other. The Aratians had penetrated the walls and where now searching the property, looking for its owners. For once, Talon was thankful for the swirling snow which hid him from their sight.

Still running, the ranch-owner entered the great paddock behind his house and sprinted for the far end. Hurdling the wooden fence, almost falling several times in the clinging white powder beneath his feet, Talon rushed towards his destination. "Please," he whispered, his ragged voice filled with fervency, "Please Gods, let Malon be there. Please"

And almost as if from divine intervention, the snow parted in front of Talon, giving him a glimpse of his daughter surrounded by a crowd of horses. He ran to her and then stopped short, unsure whether to yell or to compliment his offspring on her bravery. In the end, she solved his dilemma for him.

The wall which encircled Lon Lon Ranch was both a blessing and a curse to the Lon Lon inhabitants. In times of danger it was a formidable defence, capable of repelling large forces with few defenders, but if breached…the wall turned the interior of the ranch into a death-trap from which the occupants could not easily escape. The Lon Lon walls had been penetrated, but Malon, driven by desperation, had found a way out.

For some reason, perhaps not even known to Lon Lon's creator, the rear wall near the end of the paddock was slightly lower than the rest of its expanse. Maybe it had been an oversight on the part of some labourer, maybe a way to cut expenses from construction costs, but for some reason, it had jumped to Malon's mind. For a horse, if properly motivated, could jump completely over this section of wall and onto the flat grasses of Hyrule Plains below

It was in this way that Malon planned to save the mounts of Lon Lon Ranch, despite the imminent Aratian threat. With deliberate care, Malon urged a horse into a gallop and steered it towards the fence. She watched with satisfaction as it jumped, marginally clearing the barrier, and landed smoothly in the snow outside. Turning to her father as she prepared another for the jump, she began "We will save them, father. The soldiers will be too late."

Talon shook his head desperately. "The Aratians have already penetrated the walls!" he cried, separating a horse from the crowd and leading towards the wall. "They will find us within minutes!"

As if the words had given them away, the first voices floated through the snow, rough and coarse with hatred and unholy glee. "I see tracks!" one proclaimed, his voice barely cutting through the thick snowfall. "Come on!" Dark shapes started to form through the thick snow as the soldier neared the fugitive pair.

Wasting no time, Talon almost threw his daughter onto a horse and pulled himself onto one as well. "We don't have time to save the rest." he whispered urgently to Malon, "We must go now! Follow me." The ranch-owner, after making sure his daughter was following, spurred his horse into a gallop, straight toward the small dip in the wall.

The first soldiers reached the few horses left in the field and paused for a moment, unsure of what strange act had brought the animals. Then they caught sight of Talon and his daughter. "After them!" the regiment commander screamed and several of his soldiers took off in response. Even sprinting, they rapidly lost ground on the mounted riders. Realizing their pursuit was a futile gesture, the lead soldier flung his spear in frustration. Badly aimed, the weapon should have never even come near to the fleeing pair, but fate, it seemed, had decreed a purpose for the soldiers act.

Reaching the wall, Talon's horse flew up and over like some ancient equine hero of times long past. Pulling his mount around in a small loop, the ranch-owner waited for his daughter to appear, but destiny had decided differently. For the spear thrown by that lead soldier had somehow found its mark, cutting deep into the left rear-leg of Malon's mount. The horse had collapsed throwing a shrieking Malon to the ground and destroying any hope of escape for the red-haired farm girl.

To Talon, who heard his daughter scream in terror as the horse threw her, it was as if all light in the world had been extinguished. He almost turned his horse back towards the ranch gates, in an insane attempt to rescue his daughter, but realizing what a miniscule chance such a venture had, he stopped himself. Despair clouded his features and he cursed silently. "Malon" he whispered, tears melting snowflakes which had settled on his cheek. "I'll find you."

Unable to even discern whether his daughter was living or dead, Talon gathered the three horses they had saved and rode off into the darkness. Flames leapt into the sky behind him as his homes, his possession and his very life burned in the fires of war. But they were only the first in a night that would see many more homes destroyed by the flickering tongues of crimson-orange.

***

The sun was low in the sky when Gabriel stared out once more from the Hyrule Castle balcony upon Castle-Town below. The snow had almost completely ceased, a rarity, and the view was almost completely unobstructed. The tranquil scene was worlds apart from the one that had occurred only hours before, brought on by the news of Aratian attack.

Hyrule was a small country, with no enormous military force or organization to defend her. Bordering on the large empire of Aratia, one would have thought she would have been overrun long ago, but amazingly, she had somehow remained free. Some of the reason could have been attributed to the magical properties of Hyrule's various inhabitants, or to the drastically different terrains that formed the country, but only part. The real reason, Gabriel knew, was the unconquerable castle from which he was gazing. It was Hyrule Castle that had always vanquished invaders in the past, proving impervious to any army, no matter how large.

And it was to the castle that the inhabitants of Castle-Town retreated in times of war. The afternoon had been filled with the sounds of feet tramping up the great bridge which formed the entrance to the Castle as the people of Hyrule filed slowly inside. They were scared, scared of the terrible stories they had heard about slaughter and death, but not nearly scared enough.

Evil was free, the Cycle was turning, plunging the world into an epic battle between light and darkness. Supernatural forces had been unleashed and destiny itself was in the balance. Gabriel knew beyond doubt that the Castle would fall, his Master had foretold it…and his Master was never wrong.

Far below, the great gates of the Castle were shut and the wall was lined with Hylian soldiers. The civilians of Castle-Town were safe deep inside the vast halls and chambers and the giant store-housed were stuffed to the eaves. The entire population of Castle-Town could survive almost an entire year off the supplies inside the fortress, but Gabriel knew without doubt, that the war would end long before then. Would end in fire and darkness for Hyrule and its people.

The King of Hyrule watched as the first wave of a dark horde emerged from the snowy waste of Hyrule field. They advanced relentlessly toward the town like a living tide over a distant shore. An irrational hope ceased Gabriel as they paused at the gates; hope that the insignificant barrier would turn them back toward the land from which they had come. But the gate, it's barred lengths sundered from the stone around, fell backward into the city, a welcome mat for the advancing hordes.

As the ranks penetrated the city, the last feeble rays of day gave way and the world plunged into darkness. From his high balcony Gabriel could not longer see the army below, just anticipate their progress in his terrified mind. He, of course, would be spared by the Aratians in return for his betrayals, but hard facts gave little comfort to his fear-ravaged conscience.

The first flame sprung up, quickly joined by many more, like sparks inside the impenetrable black void. Within minutes, Castle-Town was a blazing inferno of massive proportions. _Shadow and flame._ The words ran through Gabriel's mind as he stared in horrified fascination at the darkness interspersed with burning infernos below him. _Shadow and flame._

He had been promised Hyrule, Gabriel thought with painful realization, but there had been no talk of the condition of the country. The King of Aratia was going to destroy Hyrule, had probably meant to destroy it from the very beginning. He had been betrayed, he realized, as the light from the dancing flames beneath him illuminated his shock-ridden features. Betrayed by Aratia and ultimately the very entity Gabriel had just released from its ancient prison.

_***_

The Temple of Time stood desolate and abandoned, alone yet untouched by the destruction around it. Rising high above its main chamber, a tower reached towards the God's it had been intended for worship, shining dully against the darkness behind. High above the surrounding buildings, the tower finally narrowed to a tapered point which pierced like a spike into the heavens. It was too this spike, that a shadow clung.

Complete darkness had already descended over Castle-Town and the light from the flames did not penetrate the night around the tower. But somehow, a darker shape could be discerned at the pinnacle of the Temple of Time. A shape devoid of any semblance of light or life.

It was the figure of a man atop a great charger, both made from impenetrable shadow. They floated barely above the tower like demonic sentinels witnessing the destruction below._ "Burn," _the figure whispered, his cloak shifting slowly in the snow-filled air, "_Burn for me."_

With that, the figure cocked it's head, as if listening to some voice heard only within the confines of its mind. Shadowy features implacable, the figure nodded once, bent on obeying the orders it had been given. For the Great Evil of the Cycle, given a foothold once more in the mortal realm, had not been idle.

The dark figure leapt from his perch, flying high above the turmoil below with supernatural ease. Castle Town and the surrounding armies faded into the gloom of night as the shadow of evil sped through the sky, searching for the only power which could possibly hinder his master's imminent arrival. A hideous presence which was bent on bringing death into the destiny of a certain princess.

Behind it Castle Town burned as the work of generations of Hylians were lost to the destruction of war. Flames clawed skyward, transforming the night sky into a whirling inferno. The fires crept through the city with terrifying power, its swiftness consuming buildings and Aratian soldiers. For the Aratian army, in its insatiable lust for bloodshed and fire, had created a monster which attacked friend and foe alike. They fled out beyond the city walls to safety and to watch their enemies burn in humiliation.

Inside the great Castle of Hyrule, the inhabitants of Castle-Town could only watch their lives and worldly possessions turn to ash. Soldiers turned bitterly from the walls, cursing their foes to the Dark Realm and beyond. Aratia had a lot to answer for.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

The sun shone high over the green expanse of the Great Forest, illuminating the depths of the wood with its morning light. Shafts of pure gold stretched downward from the encompassing heavens above, refracting through the scattered particles wafting through the morning air. A new day had come, chasing night into the oblivion until the sun disappeared once more.

Zelda stretched long and hard, before rising in the wooden structure she had learned to call hers. The room was large and spacious and in the time she had stayed with the Kokiri, it had become dear to her, the only space she could call home in a world which had driven her out. It was a silent bubble in which Zelda could retreat from the unanswerable questions of her life.

No birds broke the silence to herald the coming of a new day, but the stillness was welcoming enough, inviting contemplation and thought without the overwhelming emptiness which permeates most silence. It was a stillness that had managed by degrees to drive Zelda's troubles to the back of her mind, even though she knew the fate of the world rested on her shoulders. Faced with a decision she could not make, the Princess had opted to ignore it and instead live an existence, where she could, at least for a time, be content.

She rose slowly from her bedding and glided smoothly to a small closet which the Kokiri children had somehow managed to create inside her chamber. Opening the textured doors, Zelda looked with grateful bliss upon the clothing inside. Through methods the princess could not fathom, the forest inhabitants had found clothing for her and provided her with every comfort she had wanted or needed. Each morning she was struck by the wonderful generosity of the village inhabitants, who had welcomed her with open arms into their world of happiness and eternal laughter.

As she picked through the assortment of clothing, different colours and styles dancing before her eyes, she suddenly stopped. A single garment disengaged itself from the rest and smoothly captured Zelda's attention. The princess had never seen it before, but a part of her soul resonated when it was in her sight.

It was a dress, made in a fashion Zelda had not seen since before her mother died. A pale rose with ruffles and highlights of white silk, it seemed to be almost ceremonial garb, like something worn only on the occasions of utmost importance. Zelda could not tell what the day would bring, whether good or bad, but a part inside herself was urging her to wear the dress.

The few shadows remaining under the trees had paled still more, when Zelda finally stepped out of her chamber, clothed like a true princess. Once again, she looked like the royalty from which she had been cast, on a dark night months before. She was a Queen from some ancient fairy-tale, gliding through the enchanted forest.

Walking along the smooth limbs which formed the Kokiri village, the princess marvelled at the fine workmanship of the dress. It flowed smoothly with her movement and never constricted, letting the princess breathe deeply instead of the short, shallow breaths that most ceremonial clothes required. She liked the faint rustles it made as well, soft and distant like wind over Hyrule field during the early hours of dawn. Bit by bit, Zelda was falling in love with the dress, even though she had only worn it for less than an hour.

Zipping quickly down from among the trees, Navi appeared, magnificent smile lighting up her feature. Since the first night Zelda had arrived, the two had become close, an unlikely pairing through which friendship had prospered. Still, there were some things that neither mentioned, issues that the two had silently agreed to ignore. One of them was the fate of Navi's partner, the other, Zelda's destiny. Both topics were too painful, too emotionally-charged.

Lifting the corners of her lips into a delicate smile, Zelda watched the fairy come to rest lightly on her shoulder. Laughing with delight at the smooth silk, Navi felt a small portion between her tiny fingers. "We found this one yesterday, tucked away inside a forgotten corner of one of our storage chambers…." she looked contemplatively down at the cloth beneath her. "It suits you."

Zelda laughed audibly, pausing for a moment to answer the fairy. "Yes, it certainly does." she quieted, staring off into the foliage unseeingly, "You have been a great help to me Navi, I thank-you once again."

Navi returned the laugh with a slight nod of her head and a flutter of her wings. "The Kokiri and myself could do no less for royalty, princess, it would be an insult to our hospitality."

The princess smiled once more. "I am flattered, but I am really not worthy."

"Of course you are!" the fairy insisted, rushing forward with uncharacteristically rushed emotion. "You are your guest! The first royal to ever visit these woods! You are the Princess of Destiny herself!"

Zelda flinched as the title left Navi's mouth, creating an awkward silence between the two. A laughing Kokiri ran past on a limb off two one side, drawing the gazes of both princess and fairy in a welcome distraction from their conversation. Another two followed the first, their laughter fading into the distance as they disappeared from sight.

The fairy switched the conversation abruptly, spinning off onto a new tangent. "You have noticed of course that the seasons here do not change, that the trees stay green all year long and the forest is eternally locked in the lushness of spring." She gestured to the trees around her, miniscule hand outstretched. "It is one of the wonders of the Great Forest."

Nodding to cover her confusion, the princess wondered why Navi had brought up this small parcel of information. She waited for the fairy to continue, unsure of what answer the tiny creature required of her.

"But the world outside," Navi reminisced, intently focused upon the princess, "Continues onward, rushing ahead into seasons and years…It is mid-winter outside the borders of this forest princess."

Zelda stiffened in shock, trying to cope with this revelation. "I had thought that time among these trees would be deceiving," she mused, "But I cannot believe that I have stayed for almost a season."

The fairy sighed, and lifted off Zelda's shoulder, turning in mid-air to face the princess. Sadness apparent in her eyes, the fairy hovered slightly in front of Zelda's face, pressing her hands together like one about to impart grievous information. "Princess, do you still remember why you are here?"

Zelda stiffened, stepping backward with a defensive air. Troubled thoughts which she had tried to submerge burst to the forefront of her mind, bringing questions and conflicts she could not answer. "Until I choose," she whispered, "I must stay."

Navi nodded slightly, her soft glow muted by the light of day. "And have you come to that decision princess?"

Grasping a portion of her skirts in her white-knuckled fists, the princess fought back her emotions. She had known, somewhere on the edge of her mind, that the day would come when she would be called to choose, but still… Knowing something is going to happen and having it happen, Zelda realized, are two very different things.

"The darkness is moving," Navi began, her face expressing urgency "The Great Evil is enveloping Hyrule. A decision must be made Zelda; the world needs the Princess of Destiny."

"And Hyrule needs its Queen." Zelda whispered, her face filled with indecision. Days she had spent, lost in the emotional turmoil of the destiny that had been pressed upon her, only to reach an impasse. The princess had been sure of herself, had believed herself able to make any sacrifice for the good of her people, but when called to the test… when given the choice between salvation and destruction, she had been unable to make the decision the world needed. And now, even now after weeks of deliberation, she still had no answer for her dilemma.

Navi sighed again, sensing Zelda's turmoil. "You have stayed with us for many days princess and I have learned about you and about the Hyrule of which we are a part. It is a beautiful thing princess, this country of ours."

Zelda nodded slightly, her tears allayed by the remembrance of her kingdom. Hyrule, like a golden beam piercing the storm clouds it entered her mind, filling the princess, at least for the moment, with happiness. "I just wish," she whispered, staring absently off into the forest, "That I could go back…and forget about the Cycle, the prophecies and evil."

"That is the wish of many," replied Navi, looking solemnly at the princess. "But few have roles as important as yours." The fairy moved slightly closer to the princess, hovering before Zelda's nose. "If Hyrule is to survive the resurgence of evil, it will be because of you princess. Because you lived to face the Great Evil of the Cycle instead of dying in a foolish attempt to retake your country."

"The prophecies are vague," Zelda returned, trying to defend herself. "Who knows what action the Princess of Destiny is to take?"

"There are many theories about the prophecies and their meaning, princess, but few that call upon the Princess of Destiny to look to herself and her countrymen before the rest of the world. To return to the Castle now would be the death of you; and your death, princess, would seal the doom of us all."

"My subjects are loyal!" Zelda replied, her voice rising in volume with her emotion. "They would follow me over the traitor Gabriel."

"How are you sure princess?" Navi replied, sadness filling her eyes. "If what you told me is true Gabriel has convinced your people that you were murdered, and that the killer was able to take on your guise. He has even held a funeral in your honour. You people loved you princess, but if they were to see you now…they would execute you as the killer of their beloved Princess Zelda. Until you can prove to them otherwise, there is no hope in returning to Hyrule."

"I will prove it!" Zelda shouted, snapping under the strain. "Let me go back Navi! I can't leave them to die."

The fairy paused for a moment, and when she did speak, her voice was dangerously low. "Do not shout at me princess, for I am not the one who is decieved. You must find the Hero of Time and defeat the Great Evil, or else both our lives, and the lives of others we care about, will come to an end." Navi's eyes flashed and anger flared in her voice "Even the Great Forest is not so powerful as to survive the breaking of the Cycle."

The princess turned slightly, trying to hide from the fairy's words. Hyrule was her country, her home, she could not survive knowing her subjects were under the dominion of evil. She continued to turn, wanting to escape from the conversation entirely, but the fairy zipped back in front of her.

"Wait princess!" Navi called, still hovering in mid-air, but the princess did not answer. The beauty of the day was forgotten, along with the peace of the Great Forest, lost into oblivion. _Hyrule…_the word drifted through her mind, but Zelda no longer calmed at the mention of its name.

Watching the blonde-haired girl recede into the forest, Navi's anger finally overflowed, finding a target in Zelda and the princess's apathy. Racing ahead of the princess, Navi jerked to a stop and erupted into a blazing torrent of words "You must embrace your destiny!" Navi snapped, eyes blazing. "You cannot wait any longer Zelda, the world depends upon this choice!"

Circling in a sort of desperate frenzy, Navi continued to rant, letting out pent-up emotion. "Think beyond Hyrule, Zelda! The Cycle will destroy everything, everything you hold dear! The Princess of Destiny cannot be weak, cannot spend weeks pondering decisions that should take seconds. Are you the Princess of Destiny! Or are you some foolish dethroned girl!"

Blown away by the assault, Zelda stood terrified by the tiny apparition of fury before her. They were the first unkind words she had ever heard from Navi, and they cut deep, into her very soul. But they accomplished their effect, forcing the princess to realize how self-centered she had become. "Please fairy," she whispered, her own emotions blown away in the face of Navi's onslaught "I am sorry."

Abruptly, Navi ended her tirade and jerked to a halt, hovering undecidedly in the air above Zelda's shoulder. Her glow, which had become tinged with red during her rant, switched suddenly to a pale rose. "I too am deeply sorry, princess." the fairy began, her voice filled with sadness, "I have brought shame upon myself and the hospitality of my people…I beg your leave." With that, the tiny creature spun and began to float off into the forest, hurrying to leave the site of emotional lapse.

Her face an impartial mask, Zelda carefully weighed the fairy's words, her emotional turmoil melting before Navi's potent expression of the circumstances. In all truth, the fairy was right, she had to choose, it was not something that could be put off any longer. But still, her pain and guilt, confusion and frustration dragged her back. Invisible shackles crushing her down towards oblivion.

The beauty of the morning entirely lost upon the burden-ridden Princess, she returned to her chamber, anticipating a long struggle through the corridors of her mind. "Navi," She whispered again, her eyes staring at something beyond the emerald foliage in front of her, "I am sorry."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Her golden hair spread in shimmering waves around her, Zelda lay prostrate, face pressed harshly into the padding of her bed. Some time had passed since her argument with Navi and still Zelda had not been able to drive the fairy's words from her mind. The morning was almost spent, but Zelda was lost in a suffocating morass of her own making.

In an attempt to control her thoughts, Zelda wondered idly about Malon, Impa, and the others who had entered her life. Usually, such thoughts would have had the ability to pull the princess from her worry, but as she contemplated each individual, their accusations and pleas rose up to haunt her. Malon wanted the revenge of her betrothed, Impa was dead, killed at the hands of Gabriel, and Demon…She had not seen the black-cloaked warrior since being brought to the village. No matter where she turned, there was no comfort for her weary soul.

The chamber in which she sat was dark, despite the bright morning light which illuminated the forest around. Walls, which before had comforted Zelda with their smooth contours, closed in around like bars upon an iron cage. _I need air,_ the princess debated, pleading with herself. Indeed she yearned to feel the warmth of the sun and forget once more her troubles.

The radiating daylight momentarily blinded her as Zelda stepped from the wooden chamber onto the sun-touched balcony. Enveloped in the warmth of a new day, the princess began to stride briskly forward, pale pink skirt brushing the living wood under her feet. A fragile blossom in a sea of venerable ancients.

Zelda neither chose nor contemplated the path upon which her feet tread, giving them free reign to travel as she sought to outdistance her worries. Navigating the tangled boughs that formed the infrastructure of the Kokiri Village occupied most of her attention and she was content to leave it that way. One step at a time, she walked, not caring about the one that came before or the next after.

Eventually, Zelda's wandering mind led her to the great platform she had stood upon the first night of her visit. The princess had been there many times, since that festive party long before, but still, the awe of the natural wonder filled her being. Walking to the centre of the wide floor, the princess was careful to make no noise to break the calm. She paused, observing the peacefulness around her with renewed interest.

But as Zelda studied the surrounding forest, cold uneasiness abruptly swept over her, gripping her heart in its clammy embrace. The woods, moments before encased in a friendly silence, had become menacing and dark. The morning light seemed muted and distant and as Zelda looked frantically around, there was not a single fairy or Kokiri in sight. Normally, the princess would have pushed aside such a vague fear, but a part of her urged to obey its warning.

She whirled, as a branch cracked beyond the near edge of the platform, straining her senses to the limit. There was something definitely out there, hidden from her eyes by the leafy foliage, but what it could be, here in the heart of the Great Forest, the princess could only guess. The touch of fear still cold upon her, Zelda turned to leave and froze. Froze in absolute terror at the sight before her.

A horse and rider, unlike any she had ever seen, floated silently in the menacing calm, radiating the malice and fear which had taken hold of Zelda's mind. Black like a moonless night upon the rolling moors of Hyrule field; both horse and rider seemed made entirely of darkness. Faint outlines of armour and ragged cloth draped the phantoms, outlining their grotesque forms in shadowy highlights,

No expression passed across the face of the demonic entity as it raised the giant trident it bore above his twisted helm, but the meaning could not have been more clear. Zelda, frozen in the terror of its gaze, felt herself swallowed into their war-torn depths. Sickly emerald flashed, crackled brilliantly between the prongs of its trident in a grim demonstration of its power. _ I am going to die,_ Zelda thought, surprisingly lucid for her situation. She had contemplated dying before, but she had never thought it would come suddenly, nor that she would die before completing the Cycle.

The rider jumped off his mount and stood floating above the giant platform, certain of his control over the princess. With one gauntleted hand, he pushed Zelda to the ground and stood over her glorying in her imminent death. Lost in the shadowy spell of the ghostly figure blank eyes, the princess put up no resistance as she fell heavily to the ground.

The rider stood over her helpless form with his crackling trident held high, ready to end the Cycle and its threat upon his caged master. The sky darkened and thunder crackled near above the trees as the fates prepared to change their courses. Then the trident fell, powered by the supernatural strength of the shadowy rider.

Zelda watched the point coming towards her, anticipating the effect it would have upon her flesh. _Please,_ she prayed frantically, her eyes focussed upon the descending weapon,_ Please Goddesses, Not yet. _And from somewhere up above the storm, the goddesses answered.

A streak of darkness crashed into the phantom's weapon, careening it off course into the thick wood of the platform. Its magic bubbled and frothed, scorching the surrounding wood, but leaving the princess unharmed. As if released from a spell, Zelda scrambled away from the demonic rider and glanced backward at her black-cloaked saviour

His drawn daggers clasped tightly in white-knuckled hands, Demon crouched warily a few meters behind the princess. Still dressed in black, he radiated the same fury that he had in Zelda's dream, months before, but this time, it was directed at a different target. Hardly able to breathe, the princess stared at the black-clad warrior, forgetting entirely the demonic apparition from which she had barely escaped. The shadowy entity had returned, pulled out of hiding to save her life once more.

But her attention was captured once more by the dark monster which had attacked her. Pulling its formidable weapon from the ground, the phantom advanced steadily upon the new threat with confidence borne of supernatural origin. Its mount disappeared in a flash of smoke, no longer needed by its master. Starkly evil in contrast to the lush forests surrounding it, the figure stared impassively into the eyes of the black-clad warrior, drinking in the hatred it found there.

"Behind me, princess!" the warrior of darkness snarled, tensing in anticipation as the phantom approached. Not waiting to see if Zelda had obeyed his order, Demon charged, his black cloak billowing behind him. Most would have quailed in the face of the rider's dark approach, but Demon was not one of them. The black-clad warrior held too many shadows inside himself to be scared of the one which he now fought.

Shrouded in the surrealness of the situation, Zelda forgot all else besides the battle before her. She had no weapon, and the few combat skills she possessed were of no use against the supernatural monstrosity which Demon now fought. Her only hope lay with the black-clad warrior who defended her.

The phantom drifted away from Demon's onslaught, swinging its double-ended trident in a vicious arc as it dodged the black-clad warrior's initial attack. Green-tinged energy coursed the length of the weapon and along the shadowy arms of its bearer, crackling in unison with the lightening above. It was a blow that would have decapitated the Demon, cut cleanly through his exposed neck and cauterized the mortal wound in the process, but Demon was no longer there.

The warrior of darkness had barely dodged the blow, his misjudgement of the phantom's quickness costing him a rent in his cloak as he rolled underneath it, but Demon paid it no heed. Anger raged through him, flecks of red dancing in his eyes. The phantom had tried to murder Zelda; nothing else mattered to the Demon.

As he straightened out of his roll into what would have been a killing blow, the black-clad warrior realized that his opponent had already gone, drifting farther upward into the storm-filled air. Almost too late, Demon threw himself to the side as a bolt of brilliant energy burned to the ground from the figure's trident, a dangerous reminder of the weapon's magical abilities. His side ached with pain from the heavy fall, but Demon scrambled to his feet with murderous speed. Rage allowed him to ignore the pain with ease and fuelled the blood-lust which gripped his conscious. _Death_, the only comprehensible voice inside his head uttered, _Death to the one who attacked the princess._

The phantom tried again, this time charging a glowing sphere of energy upon the prongs of its weapon and hurling it at the waiting Demon. The black-clad warrior dodged it with relative ease, not turning to watch the projectile hurtle off into the surrounding trees. Somewhere in the distance, a dull explosion was heard, and then the crash of felled branches as the weapon wreaked it's destruction upon the surrounding forest.

Demon snarled, feral rage glittering in his eyes as he stared fixatedly at his opponent. _Death…Death…Death,_ the chant rang in his mind once more, reason and caution forgotten. The glory of the battle was upon him, suppressing all other thoughts within his tortured mind. All other thoughts but one, a glitter of another fight long before, which briefly sparked remembrance in the Demon's eyes.

There was something familiar about the phantom, a flickering recognition from a past Demon had fought hard to suppress. It was almost as if he had fought the demonic entity before, and abruptly, the remnants of a strategy from another time. But the swirling rage could not be denied for long, and the memories were quickly swallowed into the lightless depths of Demon's mind.

As the phantom slowly prepared another swirling ball of death, the black-clad warrior tensed, warily focused upon the hovering figure. He could not reach nor harm the shadowy demon which floated tauntingly above him, but fractured memories of his past had given him a different weapon against his opponent. One that had been used long before, by a man who still believed himself to be a hero.

The ball of energy crackled downward and this time Demon did not bother dodging, forming his daggers into a cross before him, and bracing himself for the inevitable collision. It was the same pose struck years before, by the Hero of Time battling against the Great Evil and Demon, even through the waves of anger, could sense it. The yammering voices rose up in crescendo, battling against the recalled memories, their chaos causing the black-clad warrior to flinch as the hurtling ball of energy descended upon him.

Zelda watched in horror as her lone defender was enveloped in a bristling crescendo of magic that hurled him backward crushed and senseless to the edge of the platform. Barely seconds had passed since she herself had felt the ghostly figure's power, and still the dull numbness of it's shock clung to her She felt herself sharing his pain, feeling the unendurable agony of the dark power and wanting to shield him from it. It was the first time she had ever seen the Demon defeated and it left a curious sensation within her, as if something elemental to her soul had been broken. But she had no further time for thought, as the phantom advanced upon her.

It had dismissed Demon's unconscious body and moved on to its previous target, the princess it had been sent to destroy. As it floated forward toward Zelda, she realized that this time, there would be no saviour to rescue her, that her life, fragile as it was, had little chance of surviving the phantom's attack. Dark shadows closed in from around, the shadowy figure's will compelling her to surrender once more to his power, but in the crumpled outlines of Demon's helpless form, Zelda found the strength to resist.

There was no where to run, and the princess knew it. As she had scrambled to escape the ghostly figure's trident, she had cornered herself in a section of the platform with neither an exit to the rest of the village nor a connection to the great bole which formed the open area of the Kokiri hall. Escape was impossible and the phantom seemed to know it, approaching with a sort of relaxed mockery which implied its control over the princess.

Zelda scrambled backward in frenzied urgency, resisting the temptation to look once more into the phantom's eyes and fall under its spell. For the sake of the world, for the sake of Impa and Navi, for the man who had thrown his life into mortal danger to attempt to save her from this menace, she had to survive. But what chance she had against the malignant power of the ghostly figure before her, the princess had yet to find

As she pushed herself back one last time, her hands closed over empty air and she barely prevented herself from falling to the forest floor distant below. Reeling over the edge of the platform, gazing at the approaching phantom and with it certain death, a kind of madness abruptly seized her, pulling strength from hidden reaches Zelda had not known she possessed. "No!" she screamed, unconsciously calling up some hidden form of magic deep within her and sending it flying toward the shadowy figure.

Power which had awakened only at the utmost need of Zelda's soul ripped from her fingertips into the dark phantom, conduits of light that hurled destruction into its shadowy soul. Her skirt and hair rippled wildly in the wake of the princess's magic like

The phantom reeled upward with the pure shards of Zelda's spell ripping at its darkness with ferocious intensity. Angry flashes tore through the figure, piercing the shadows and creating gaps in the blackness. To the princess, reeling upon the edge of the chasm, it looked as if the ghostly demon had been destroyed by her attack, but as the shadows began to coalesce once more, her momentary hope abruptly faded.

Weakened, but not defeated, the phantom gazed impassively at the princess once more from its vantage in the air. Patches of grey showed through among the complete darkness of the ghostly figure, showing areas of thinner shadows amongst the rest, but the exhausted princess had no chance of mustering another magical attack, indeed she did not even no how she had called down the first one. Too weak to resist, she watched the trident came down once more, waiting for the lethal weapon to end her life.

Zelda never saw the dagger which buried itself into a grey patch in the phantom's back and never heard the haunted cry which rang through the supernatural realm as the projectile struck it's victim, but she realized, as the trident which had been descending upon her crumbled into flickering shadow, that her life had been saved once more. The rest of the ghostly figure followed its weapon instantly, breaking apart into harmless patches of darkness which slowly melted away entirely. The dark blood-stained dagger which had ended the phantom's earthly presence fell clattering to the ground with nothing substantial left to support its weight.

As the princess gazed past the fallen weapon to the man who had thrown it, the terror which she had felt in the presence of the phantom quickly renewed itself. The Demon's eyes, as he crouched low just besides where his body had lain, where flecked with the crimson light of madness. Cloak ripped in places, snarling from the effort of throwing his dagger, the warrior of darkness looked exactly as Zelda had seen him in her dreams months before. For a moment the princess believed he was about attack her too, as she had seen him murder the hapless Gerudo, such was the insane rage evident in his face.

But curiously, as the black-clad warrior and princess locked eyes, the anger flowed from Demon's features, leaving a sort of relief that was quickly locked away into the impassive expression that Zelda had become used to. The moment passed so quickly that the princess could not have been sure of what she had seen and the residual shock of her experience still clouded her thoughts. But as she delicately pushed herself away from the chasm between her and the forest floor below, Zelda could not help wondering if for once the warrior of darkness had let something slip. Something from the man who lived behind the insanity and rage that was called Demon.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Zelda was the first to rise, grasping the handle of the abandoned dagger and lifting it wearily from the ground. She paced tentatively in the direction of Demon with the air of someone who has just emerged from a nightmare. Blind to all else around her except the black-clad figure.

For his part, Demon had moved only to crouch, the remains of his cloak hanging in shreds around him. A wisp of residual energy from the deceased phantom's staff moved harmlessly across the dark form of his chest, breaking the silence with its minute crackling. The red flecks had faded from his eyes and only the lingering despair remained in their shadowy depths.

Rising warily as the princess halted before him, Demon suppressed an urge to escape into the trees and disappear. To run back to the woods which had sheltered him for so many years, but he found himself unable to move, trapped in the azure blue of the princess's eyes. A voice in his mind rambled onward, speaking of the phantom Demon had just defeated and its implications upon the world, but the black-cloaked warrior paid it no heed. All of his attention was focussed upon the princess in front of him.

For a moment, both figures stood silent, unable to break the terrible past that lay between them, but at last Zelda mustered the courage to speak. "Thank-you" she whispered, "For saving my life.". Abruptly remembering the bare knife in her hand, she turned it handle forward and slowly offered it to the Demon in a small act of trust.

Demon took it from her, his gauntleted hand surprisingly careful as he lifted the weapon from her grip and sheathed it. "I have done nothing to merit thanks." The warrior of darkness snarled with an anger that defied his former actions. "Nothing I do ever will." Zelda stepped fearfully backward and away from the black-clad warrior, suddenly conscious of how close he had become. It was a movement that somehow brought pain to Demon's eyes, chasing the shadows from them.

Straightening into a less bestial position, the black-clad warrior seemed to undergo a remarkable transformation. For once again, the shadows had broken, letting through something else rather than the Demon. It was almost the same change as the one Zelda had witnessed in her room when she was first brought to the village and it brought a surge of hope to her heart, along with an equal amount of wonder. _This is the Hero of Time,_ she thought, _the man upon the tapestry._

He gestured to the spot where the ghostly figure who had attacked Zelda had disappeared, his eyes almost a full blue. "It's the bodies, princess." He stopped for a moment, staring off into the distance, "I can see them in my head. Victims of a thousand murders" he whispered, "All the death, all the blood, and then darkness."

He looked so utterly different after the enraged figure which Demon had been previously, that Zelda was finally able to master the courage to answer. "Then leave them," she murmered, staring fixedly at the Demon, "Let the past go."

There was a moment of silence and then warrior of darkness laughed harshly, causing Zelda to start. He looked from Zelda, to the pale rose dress she wore, to the place where the ghostly monster had vanished, shadows appearing once more in his gaze. The anger and the rage had surfaced once more, burying the Hero of Time beneath layers of pain and despair. "Not again," he snarled, shadows gathering in his eyes, "I remember this, …Curse the Goddesses, I won't let it happen again." The black-clad warrior glared insanely at the princess. "I am Demon!"

Memories of the alternate time-line were ripping at his mind, scenes of battle and love which he could not suppress. He had killed that phantom before…in a cavern deep within the roots of the Great Forest, but it was not the phantom that commanded his attention. It was the princess, who's image he could not escape, the black-clad warrior had seen her in that pose before, seen her garbed in the ceremonial pink dress which she now wore. Dressed as she was, there was no difference between her, and the princess whose image filled his mind. He had seen it more than seven years before, in a time that no longer existed.

Adrift in confusion and fear, Zelda tentatively locked eyes with the warrior of darkness, trying to divine secrets from his clouded eyes. "What do you mean," she asked, "Again?". The vague uneasiness she had felt when first meeting Demon in the forest clearing returned as a palpable shiver. This man was not speaking to her, but to some other being created in his shattered soul.

The Demon's eyes drifted back to the princess, a curious expression flitting across his face as the circumstances where he had last seen that dress, long suppressed, rose to his mind. "And curse you too," he whispered , "By the Triforce itself, curse you.". Pain twisted the black-cloaked warrior's features with tortured intensity. "For sending me back."

Frightened by the animosity in the black-clad warrior's eyes, Zelda stiffened. His words confused her, accusations that she knew herself to be innocent of, but she could not bring herself to condemn him. Whatever it was that Demon spoke of, he truly believed the princess to be responsible for it. The conviction, formed somewhere in the fantasies of his thoughts, shone through his eyes with feverish intensity.

But through her fear, Zelda could feel something else rising. Once more the Hero of Time was slipping beyond her grasp into the endless void of anger and pain. Once more, he was vanishing into the darkness, and with him the hope that she could save her people and complete her destiny. This time, she could not let him go.

"I do not know you." Zelda began, her voice gaining in volume as Demon shifted slightly, "I do not know what wrong I have committed against you…And I do not know what haunts you." She paused for a moment, trying to find the words, "But I do know that you are the Hero of Time, destined to defeat a Great Evil and save Hyrule." She rushed onward frantically, "Destined to continue the Cycle."

A spark flickered in Demon's eyes at the words, quickly disappearing, but taking some of the shadow with it. "The Cycle…" he repeated, gazing towards the spot where the ghostly figure which had attacked the princess had disappeared. "No…" Horrifed recognition leapt into his face, pushing aside all other emotions with its intensity. As he turned back the princess, it was without any of the anger of Demon, but instead the look of a wild animal trapped without escape. "Tell me, princess." He rasped, "What do they call this great evil?"

Zelda paused, unsure what hidden thought had inspired the question. In her experience, the evil had always been referred to as just that, The Great Evil. But there had been something that Impa had once told her, years before… "I have heard," she paused, frightened of the growing horror in the warrior of darkness's eyes, "That in the time of ancients, it was called Ganon-."

Demon cut her off, staggering back as if struck by a physical blow. "Ganondorf!" he whispered. For a moment, the woods were deathly still, and then the first harsh notes of insanelaughter sprang from the Demon. Zelda was alone when the first Kokiri stepped on to the platform seconds later.

Darkness had fallen once more over the Great Forest, its black embrace turning the world into a light-less nightmare. No moon could be seen in the skies above, and the stars were covered by heavy clouds which cast their stifling pall over the trees below. Absolute darkness flowed like an ocean around the tiny islands of light that were the Kokiri chambers, carrying the indistinguishable form of Demon upon its dark waves.

He sat hunched in the bole of one of the trees, eyes fixed upon a point in the blackness far beyond what he could physically see, in a search for something he could not find. The outer calm was a ruse that adequately concealed the raging conflict within, but could not stop it. The Demon's world had been shaken once again and he had no means to cope with the consequences. Mercifully, the blind rage that marked his existence was silent, but it was the other voices that caused him anguish now, pulling memories from deep inside his soul.

The rage which had marked his existence had disappeared, leaving him defenceless against the other emotions within his heart. He could see the day years before when the princess, the Zelda he loved as the Hero of Time, had used her magic to save his life. Or at least, had believed it would, but as the black-clad warrior looked back upon that time, the real truth was easily divined. That decision, innocent as it was, had destroyed him. The voice of an imbittered, broken man rose in his head, drowning out the others.

"_Seven years,"_ _the voice whispered,_ "_You gained seven years that you had lost forever…for what? The Princess you love doesn't remember you, you have ended more lives than ever you saved and Ganondorf is free once again. You have failed, and the world is going to pay."_

Demon stirred, a wordless hiss escaping his lips into the night air beyond.

_She's scared of you, it's in her eyes when she looks at you. And she has good reason, you tried to kill her. You are a danger, a Demon in her eyes. Possessed, ravening, murderous. The girl you love and who loved you never existed, she died the day she sent you back. And for what? Seven years of a life you hate._

_Everything you knew, everything you loved is gone. You're a killer with more blood on your hands than any evil you ever destroyed. The people hate you, fear the darkness because of your presence. The rage rules you, it drove you insane. And for what? Seven years._

The rage rose threateningly, offering an escape from the biting truths of sanity, but Demon pushed it away, the haunting blue eyes of the princess motivating him.

_And now…now the evil is free. And who will stop it this time? Ganondorf, the man who unleashed the Dark Realm upon Hyrule itself is awakening, and this time there will be no Hero. The world will end, the Goddesses will be destroyed and Zelda…Zelda will be murdered by the very force she was born to destroy, because their will be no Hero of Time to help her._

"I can't go back," the black-clad warrior rasped to the shadows around him, "I am the Demon." The Hero of Time was champion of the light, he was warrior of the darkness. Nothing could change that.

_Then she will die, the voices continued, ripped apart by the king of evil himself. You will see her fall, from your place inside the shadows, and you will feel her pain. And somewhere, deep down inside her, the Zelda that you loved will see you, traitor that you are, and hate you with every scrap of her soul._ _And then you too will die, lost and alone at the hands of the one who killed her._

Demon slammed his fist into the great trunk before him, gouging tracks of living wood with the steel points of his gauntlets. He could feel the iron, inescapable grip of fate closing in around him, pulling the black-clad warrior back toward a past that had destroyed him. He had spent years as the Demon, running from the horrors of his past, embracing the insanity and rage, but now his past had finally caught him. There would be no escape.

Somehow, despite the destruction of his timeline, Ganondorf had survived to threaten the world once more, and this time, Demon did not think he would be stopped. It had taken the combined efforts of the Princess of Destiny, Hero of Time and six semi-mythical figures known as the sages to capture the king of evil, and even their power could not destroy him. Now the sages were gone, and he, the Hero of Time, was a shattered wreck. But even the despair of his conviction could not shield him, pierced by the azure gaze of a pair of blue eyes.

_Zelda…_the name echoed through his head, crushing any resistance. The black-clad warrior would not, could not send her to her death. The anger and rage melted away before her name. "I'm coming Zelda." he whispered, melting into the surrounding darkness.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

The princess was curled up inside the small chamber of her residence, thoughts and decision tumbling through her head at an unstoppable rate. Concerned Kokiri and fairies had stopped by through-out the day, trying to console the princess with their presence, but she had turned them all away. Even Navi, after a brief and awkward conversation, had floated away from the small room to leave Zelda in the solitary state she so desired.

The monster that had attacked her was gone, but its shadow remained over the entire village. None of the Kokiri could discern how it had entered their forest paradise, nor how such a foul being had escaped the eternal chains laid upon its kind. The fairies had been brooding for hours, searching for answers they could not let themselves believe. The Cycle had progressed far beyond what the forest inhabitants had guessed, far beyond even what the fairies had previously imagined.

And to prove it, like a final click as a door shut behind her, the magic which legend had attributed to the Princess of Destiny had finally appeared. It had been her only weapon against the dark entity which had attacked her, but its very existence unnerved Zelda. Before, her magic had only consisted of her ability to dream and heal wounds. Now, however brief her control over it had been, she possessed the power of destruction, able to kill those who opposed her.

To the princess, it was a dangerous reminder of the destiny that had been placed upon her shoulders. Before, only words had conveyed the danger that awaited her at the turn of the cycle, warnings and threats of the evil which would be unleashed. But now she had actually seen that evil, in the form of the phantom upon the platform. The darkness was moving, covering Hyrule in a shadowy blight.

As the Cycle progressed, more and more of the monsters which had once plagued Hyrule would be awakened to strengthen this darkness and further its purpose. They would spread across the land, destroying everything which crossed their path and plunging the world into a conflict which could not be won. The flames of war would spread across Hyrule, hacking and killing and leaving darkness in its wake. Leaving a darkness from which there would be no dawn. Change the last two sentences into one please.

"_And these creatures", _Impa's words floated back to Zelda from years before, from a conversation that had developed into a lesson for the princess's future. _"These creatures of the shadow will have one goal, one purpose that overrides every other inside the twisted reaches of their brains. And that purpose will be to kill any who could oppose the coming of their master. Kings, Queens, armies and nations will die at their hands, paving way for the Great Evil to declare lordship over the world. They will target many, and murder even more, but there are none princess, who will be as sought after and hated than the Hero of Time and the Princess of Destiny. Once these creatures have appeared in this world, you will never be safe. Where-ever you are, where-ever you hide. They will find you."_

Zelda shuddered as her deceased nurse's words ran through her mind. It had been one of many lessons preparing her for the turn of the Cycle. At the time, it had been a bland description of a time that seemed far in the future, but now, as the darkness of night closed in around, it had taken on a new potency entirely. The Princess of Destiny and the Hero of Time were the primary threats to the return of the Great Evil, it made perfect sense for the shadow to concentrate it's forces upon them. She could almost picture the legions of monsters marching toward the forest, tirelessly closing in upon her from all sides.

Leaping up from her position beside the bed, the princess glanced wildly around her modest quarters, frantically trying to see past the darkness that seeped through the small window and door. In her mind's eye, the awful picture of the Kokiri village overrun by the servants of the Great Evil burned bright. The mystical nature of the forest would offer no defense against the ancient darkness, its boughs and limbs unable to impede the legions of darkness.

"_Where-ever you are, where-ever you hide. They will find you."_, the words echoed through her mind once more. The phantom which had attacked her had been a warning, foretelling the arrival of many more. And it was not just her safety that was at stake, the Kokiri and fairies of the village could not be killed by conventional means, but, as Navi had admitted, with the end of the Cycle, so came the end of their immortality. They could still be captured and tortured, made victims by their acceptance of Zelda into their midst.

As the princess stood looking out into the darkness, she realized that out of the many shifting realities of her life, one thing was constant. She could not stay and bring the armies of the shadow down upon the innocents who harbored her. No matter what choice they required her to make, she could not let the Kokiri die for sheltering her. Someway or another she had to leave the village, before the claws of the Great Evil could close upon it.

Invigorated by the abruptness of her decision, Zelda turned quickly from the door and surveyed her few belongings scattered around the room. She would leave while darkness was still deep upon the village and forest, freeing the Kokiri from the threat of her presence. Not stopping to think about where she would go, vague plans of redemption and revenge flashing through her mind, the princess quickly gathered her emotions. Once more she had a purpose, and the relief was almost tangible.

She moved around the room, tirelessly packing her few small possession into an insignificant bundle. Clothing, scraps of food, nothing more. It was a drastic difference from the luxuries she had enjoyed at the royal castle, but she did not mourn their loss.

A queer sensation wriggled its way up Zelda's spine like ice across a hot stone. Her fingers abandoned their former task, letting the dress she had been folding fall limply to the floor. From her position facing the wall, she could not see the doorway, but her senses screamed in fright as she detected another presence in the room. _Perhaps it is too late,_ she mused, turning towards the entrance, _maybe the monsters have already found me._

But as she turned toward the door, it was not a creature of evil that stood in its dark opening, but the warrior of darkness, Demon himself. She could barely pick out his form against the swirling shadows behind, but there was no doubt as to the identity of the figure. He surveyed her with an impassive face, taking in the situation at a glance.

"You're leaving, Princess." He rasped, staring at Zelda with troubled eyes. Something in his face had twisted momentarily with an emotion that the princess could not read.

"I have to," Zelda replied, the fear which had gripped her fading away, replaced by an irrational urge to justify her actions. "That monster, that…demon was looking for me. The Great Evil knows I am here."

Demon did not seem to have heard her, instead it seemed that he had ignored her words entirely, focused upon her face. He moved forward cautiously, and this time Zelda did not shy away. "You feel it too, don't you? The return of shadow, death, darkness, despair…" Each word was mirrored in his eyes, reflected by the demons with his soul. "The Great Evil is touching this world, soon to join us once again." There was no anger in his gaze, just the melancholy expression of a man bound to a fate he longs to escape.

"Which is why I must leave," Zelda uttered, curiously unafraid of the man who's darkness haunted her dreams. Without the anger that had characterized him in the haze of her mind, the black-clad warrior made her feel strangely relaxed. "The Great Evil knows I am here and until I am gone the Kokiri are in grave danger."

Demon smiled bitterly and a desperate sadness writ itself across his face. "But where will you go? Where can you hide from destiny?"

Zelda shuddered as the questions which had haunted her soul suddenly leapt into the night air. There was nowhere to hide, her fate, a greater hunter than even the monsters of the Great Evil itself, could not be denied. Everything, her country, her friends, her life would be devoured by its inexorable embrace.

She had run, but like a tide over the sandy flats of the ocean, her fate had overtaken her. But the destiny which she had been raised for, groomed to accept, had betrayed her. Zelda no longer held her country, did not have control of much of the magic which she had been promised, and the Hero of Time was remarkably absent from her side. Her mind clouded as the black-clad warrior's question rammed home into her heart.

Suddenly, a different thought broke through her troubles, snapping to the surface of the maelstrom. She looked at the Demon, hope lighting in her eyes, causing the bright blue of their surface to shine forth. "Then why did you come back?" she whispered, clinging to the sudden inspiration. "Why did you save me from that monster?" She leaned closer, sudden tears glistening in her eyes. "If there is no hope, then why didn't you kill me back at the castle?"

Demon took a step back, panic rising swiftly and then being quashed by a different emotion. "Princess…" he whispered, fighting to keep his resolve.

"I am alone." She uttered, a tone of almost hysteria present in her voice. "And the creatures of the dark realm itself are after me. You are supposed to be my champion! To fend the evil from me!"

Demon flinched again, but the rage of his past still did not rise. Instead he looked back into the princess's gaze with eyes barely containing the pain that lay within. "I am not what you seek." He rasped, rolling his arms inside his cape.

"Then I am lost." The princess murmured, her piercing blue eyes still fixed upon the Demon. Her voice had returned to its previous cadence, but the emotion had not departed from her face. "For I do not know how to defeat this evil and I am defenseless before it." She continued to stare at the black-clad warrior with powerful hope, aware that some of what she said, had penetrated the shadows which cloaked him.

He stared too, for an endless moment, before his shoulders slumped to his sides. _I never could deny her, _the thought whispered through him. Then he narrowed his gaze, focusing once more upon Zelda's words. The struggle within him was gone, but the pain and sorrow remained, like relentless spirits intent upon the subjugation of his soul.

Zelda persisted, reaching for something she could not name. "You knew this evil," she urged. "You reacted to the name as if you had said it before." There was an intensity to her gaze that hinted at the turmoil which had haunted her since her visit to the Great Deku Tree.

"Ganondorf," Demon started, a red flash glittering in his eyes at the mention of the name and then disappearing just as fast, quickly receding into the dark abyss of the black-clad warrior's soul. "He is reaching, stretching, clawing towards this world…and he wants you princess." The bitter smile had appeared again, quickly followed by a rush of shadows from the doorway which framed the Demon. But the warrior of darkness laboriously pushed it back away from him, his commitment to the princess providing motivation "He wants you dead."

But the emotions that filled the princess were not entirely spent, the turmoil which had filled her still lapped persuadingly at the corners of her being. This man in front of her was entirely different than the raving lunatic who had attacked her in her chambers, or fought off the creature of the Dark Realm earlier in the day. "Who are you?" she wondered, leaning unconsciously closer to the warrior of darkness.

The man sighed, understanding what Zelda wanted from him, understanding the Hero who's guise she wished him to assume, but back, in the hidden reaches of his mind, he could feel the madness gibbering and raving in the shadows. The man he had been was gone, forever changed by the years of darkness which had enveloped him. "I am Demon." He whispered, the bitterness twisting his face. "Nothing else."

Zelda slumped inward, feeling her hopes collapse within her. For a moment she had truly, irrationally believed that this man in front of her had come to save her, to make the choices she could not make, to protect her from the evils she could not face. But that hope had crashed to pieces.

"Princess…" Demon started, coming to a decision as he detected the overwhelming hurt behind her eyes.. "You must leave here at first light, make for the border to Termina before Gabriel gains more control across the country. You must be patient, for your chance to take back your homeland." He took a step into the night, waiting for its dark embrace to take him once again, but the voice of the princess behind pulled him back.

"And if I go, what will you do?" Zelda whispered, the incandescence fading from her, turning the brilliant spirit back into the mortal she was. "Will you return. To…" she paused, trying to find the words "The darkness?"

Demon froze, half turning back toward the princess. "I'll be waiting at the edge of the village." He rasped, and then fled into the darkness.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Dawn came slowly to the vast reaches of the Great Forest, its greyish tendrils slowly fracturing the complete darkness of the night. Stealthily they crept across the blank canvas of the sky like the unfurling of the first leaves in a new spring, hardly noticeable and easy to miss. But the princess, whose preparations and whirling thoughts had hardly let her rest through the long reaches of the night: the princess had already seen them.

_Leave at first light, _Demon had said, and Zelda intended to obey him. Her surroundings were still mere shadows in a sea of grudging darkness, but at least now the princess could distinguish the path in front of her. Wondering absently how Demon always seemed to be able to navigate perfectly in the pitch dark, the princess continued forward down towards the forest floor below.

She was dressed in the old Shiekan outfit, trusting it to serve her on another journey to an uncertain destination. A light pack adorned her shoulders and her hair was tied back in a tight braid which disappeared inside her cloak. In all, it was a marked change from the glorious extravagance of her former apparel, but Zelda had pushed the niggling regret far away, not letting such foolish trifles cloud her thinking. Even so, the dress had been hard for her to part from, even knowing such a delicate garment could hardly survive the rigours of travel.

The giant trunks of trees adjoining her path loomed into her vision, proud sentinels of a different age, and then disappeared once more into the darkness behind as she moved forward. With some surprise, she realized that it was not only the receding night which impeded her vision, but a liberal blanket of mist which hung over the entire village. Translucent clouds of moisture slipped mysteriously between the pale columns of the trees, hiding the princess from unfriendly eyes and leaving her with a powerful feeling of awe. Aware of the cloaking effects of the fog, the princess thanked the Goddesses for her good luck.

It would be another hour at least, Zelda mused, before the village sprang to life and the Kokiri and fairies awakened from their slumber. At least an hour, Zelda corrected herself, before the immortal children awoke, the fairies themselves did not need sleep, but instead spend the night guarding the Kokiri they were sworn to protect. There were none to mark her passage, Zelda assured herself, but as she continued forward something caught her eye and pulled her head around.

The princess stopped dead, her gaze flicking quickly to her surroundings. She had seen movement, like the lighting of a candle at the edge of her vision, but then it had been gone, snuffed by the twilight around her. The mists which protected her closed in around, betraying no sign of any intruder, but still Zelda searched with the clammy touch of fear caressing her skin. Finally, dismissing the flash as the workings of an overactive imagination, she turned and continued down the narrow path.

Walking onward, she wondered idly on a topic that had hovered at the edge of her mind for almost a day, since the dark phantom had attacked her. Slipping at the outside of her conscience, she had ignored it in the face of more urgent issues, but now it rose to occupy her thoughts. The question of what she had done to her attacker, seconds before Demon's dagger had ended its life.

She had been defenceless, about to be hurled from the platform to the ground far below when she had hurled something at the dark figure, like lightening from her fingertips. Power had filled her, and for the first time in her life the princess had felt the cadence of destructive magic fill her being. Never had she possessed anything beyond a moderate talent for healing and an uncanny foresight in her dreams to predict the future and there had always been times she had wished for more. Like the mages of old, Zelda had dreamed of power, and like them she had found the eventual harnessing of it exhilarating.

Unfortunately, whatever magic she had possessed for that split-second had disappeared immediately afterward, and she could not sense it within herself. Even her healing gift had disappeared, which had provoked serious worry in Zelda's mind. In its place there was a hole, through which Zelda could not see, but she did not doubt that there was something beyond it. Whether the questionable gifts of the formidable legacy attributed to the Princess of Destiny, or some after-effect of the demon phantom's energy upon her body she could not tell.

She was heading downward on a limb which criss-crossed back and forth around the lower reaches of the ancient trunk which formed the heart of the Kokiri Village. Higher up, it ended abruptly in the great platform Zelda had been brought to on her first night with the Kokiri, but it was the winding stair at its foot that drew the princess. It was the only way to reach the forest floor below, unless, Zelda mused idly, she miraculously developed the power of flight.

Shapes emerged from the fog around and then receded like misshapen figures in a grotesque dance. Raising hands to her haunted eyes, Zelda rubbed them defiantly and then peered once again into the dream world which floated around her. They were tired and strained from a nearly sleepless night and the tension of her journey wasn't helping. Zelda could only imagine how she must look, pale and drawn from the trials of the previous days, but looks, she thought grimly, were the least of her worries.

Frustrated with herself for losing focus once again, the blond-haired girl tentatively peered over the side of the path, trying to gauge the distance to the bottom. But the swirling mists refused to reveal their secrets, shading any sign of the ground beneath from Zelda's searching eyes. Only as she straightened to continue, did Zelda finally discern something from the enveloping grey, in the form of another quick flash of soft yellow which dropped immediately out of sight.

Wondering if she was losing her sanity, the princess turned swiftly and strode down the path, refusing to look over her shoulder to where she had caught the glimpse. _Just another mist-illusion_, she thought, keeping her gaze rigidly ahead, _nothing to cause worry. _But it was only once she reached the beginnings of the winding stair which led to the forest floor that the tension left the princess's shoulder and the measured defiance from her step.

As she gingerly moved off the last step onto the forest floor below, a shadow flitted across Zelda's vision and she whirled, coming face to face with Demon. He had appeared from nowhere, materializing out of the mist like one of the ghosts which supposedly haunted Hyrule field. Poes they were called, ancient souls which were denied the Sacred Realm because of their sins, and Demon would not have seemed out of place among them.

"Come princess," he whispered, striding forward among the trees. "Soon the Kokiri will awaken, and by then, we must be far from here." His black cloak fluttered behind him as he moved fluidly through the shadowy fog which masked the forest, despite the utter lack of a breeze. The princess followed hurriedly, running through the shifting dream world around her.

They continued in the same fashion for more than hour, Demon slipping ethereally from tree to tree and Zelda striving to follow him. The princess wanted to call out to him, to ask him where he was taking her, but the brooding stillness of the woods stopped her. She felt as if a thousand eyes were watching, sweeping the woods with their unfriendly gaze and only a single word needed to draw their attention to herself. So she remained silent, concentrating on keeping the shifting movements of the black-clad warrior ahead of her in sight.

As time progressed and the fog began to lift, the walls of mist which had blocked the princess's vision receded into the trees. Daylight from the fledgling morning broke through in stippled patterns to the forest floor, but the new-found cheeriness did little to lift Zelda's spirits. More than once already, she had found herself glancing quickly over her shoulder in an attempt to surprise a half-imagined pursuer. The arduous journey and terrors of the night before were playing with her mind, and the princess found it hard to shake their grip upon her.

Abruptly, the princess realized that she could no longer see the Demon ahead of her, despite the departure of the fog. She put on a burst of speed, running forward through the trees in a vain attempt to find the black–clad warrior. Further, she ran, swinging her head from side to side and peering into the surrounding forest. Thoughts raced through her head to the rhythm of her pounding feet, swarming through her head in senseless tangles. _Surely he hasn't stopped; _she reasoned frantically, _I would have seen him by-_

A rough grip latched on to Zelda's arm and pulled her sideways, behind one of the sheltering trees. Stiff with the shock, the princess started to scream reflexively, but a black-gloved hand clamped itself over her mouth, stifling it before she could start. Instead, she began to struggle in a desperate bid to escape from her unknown captor.

As her gaze slid down to the gauntleted hand across her mouth, the princess realized who it was that held her, and new and even more unpleasant thoughts rushed through her head. Demon had tried to murder her once before, had killed uncountable others in his past, and judging from his actions, would kill many more to come. _What if he hasn't changed,_ the cold suggestion wormed its way forward, _what if he lured me here to finish the job he started back at the castle?_

Almost before she could finish the though, Zelda was wrenched around to face her captor, her worst fears confirmed by the flickering red in his eyes. But as he lifted his other hand and put a finger to his lips, her fear turned to more to confusion. As she looked closer, the princess realized that the look in Demon's eyes was more urgency than anger. Something was wrong, but what, she had not yet guessed.

"Wood-wolves." He whispered, more mouthing the word than putting them to voice. Then he gestured to the tree above, pointing to a spot part-way up the ancient trunk of the forest giant. Unlike the rest of the grove around them, this particular tree had not grown straight upward in the smooth column which characterized the Great Forest, but instead divided into two great limbs very early in its growth. It was to the cleft between the limbs that Demon pointed.

Metal flashed in the morning light as the warrior of darkness drew his dagger, and Zelda recoiled from the glittering weapons, wondering whether she had been wrong about his intentions. But Demon only turned back to the tree and drove the blades into the trunk, before grabbing the princess around the waist and lifting her to stand atop the exposed dagger handles. From somewhere amid the trees, a chorus of howls rose to shatter the silence.

The imprint of Demon's hands burning a hole in Zelda's mind, she reached upward and scrambled clumsily into the cleft between the separating trunks. Somehow, her mind could not grasp what he had just done, and yet another part marvelled at the strength in those arms, despite the horrendous crimes committed by the ones who owned them…_Quiet! _Zelda ordered herself fiercely, as another series of howls sounded nearby.

The first of the wolves broke from the trees and ran toward the black-clad figure standing unarmed beneath the princess. Ravening jaws leaped toward him, covering the intervening distance in great bounds, streaks of brown and iron grey against the green of the forest. They were fast, faster than any of the luckless prey they had ever before pursued, but not nearly fast enough.

The princess had seen Demon's supernatural speed before, but the true beauty of his agility, coupled with the grace of his movements, took her breath away. Spinning to face the tree, the black-clad warrior grasped the hilts of his imbedded daggers and sprung upward, pushing with both hands and feet from the earth below. With the staggering power of his leap, he flew upward into a breath-taking flip which ripped his weapons from the trunk and slammed them in once more, slightly below the lip of the cleft within which Zelda hid. Then he was crouching beside her, daggers sheathed on his thighs and only the swirling of his midnight cape to remember his acrobatics.

Azure blue eyes wide with incredulity, Zelda studied the black-clad form beside here. No man she had ever known, could have completed that stunt, in fact, she hardly believed it to be mortally possible. No wonder the Hero of Time was considered such a mighty warrior in the legends; at least, the princess corrected herself, if the previous Hero had been anything like Demon.

Abruptly, the snarling of the rabid pack around the base of the tree tore Zelda's attention away from the figure beside her. Peering out onto the raging animosity below, she abruptly wished she hadn't and pulled her head back. The wolves were almost frantic in their desire to reach their prey, leaping high into the air to scrabble at the wooden truck mere inches from the cleft. Their howls filled the morning air, turning the blood in the princess's veins to icy slush.

But as she glanced back at her companion, Zelda perceived that Demon was completely unphased. In fact, he shifting around, settling into a more comfortable position in the cramped space between the divided trunks. Noticing the princess's fear Demon grinned, an expression which seemed to emphasize his teeth above all else. Behind his pale blue eyes, flames danced eerily in the darkness, highlighting the shadows which had seeped into his gaze. Without warning, he through back his head and howled to the sky above, joining the horrendous caphecony of the wolves.

The princess shuddered, her sympathy toward the Demon replaced by sudden revulsion. Anger, pain, despair, she could sense them all within the black-clad warrior, but there was something else there as well, a sense of ecstatic enjoyment of the situation, of the danger, of the wild beast and its rage…a sense of complete, gibbering insanity.

As Demon's rage built, the howl rose in volume, masking the sound of the wolves with its transcendent madness. Even the killers beneath the tree faltered, as the Demon voiced his cry, sensing their own death in the ghastly sound. Endless it seemed, in the seconds it shattered the silence of the forest, but then it was cut off by the same being that had created it. Looking over at the terrified princess beside him, Demon managed to holds his shadows at check for a few seconds more before he was swept away.

Zelda had clapped her hands over her eyes to shut out the sound of Demon's terrible cry, but it hadn't helped. The howl seemed to permeate her very bones, rushing seeping evil through her blood-stream and resonating inside her skull. It was as if the black-clad warrior had taken the wolf-sound and multiplied the anger within it until it filled the entire sky above. Terrible and deadly it was, and the princess felt herself flinching before it.

Then it died, and Demon looked over at the princess. Something in her terror made him pause, and a deep sadness flickered across his gaze, battling the shadows. Sparks flickered and died in the bottomless pits which were his eyes, but then the crimson returned and swept all else away. "I'm sorry princess." Demon whispered, finding a last moment of sanity inside the madness. But then his daggers were out and he disappeared over the edge of the cleft into the massed wolves below.

Zelda closed her eyes, as the first wolf uttered a dying scream from the forest floor. She tried to imagine herself somewhere else, anywhere else, instead of a witness to the carnage. But the memory of Demon's face, the sadness which showed his losing struggle against the darkness within, kept her near. Listening to the muffled sounds of the massacre below and fervently praying for the soul a man she dared only hope could be saved.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

The frantic sounds of bloodshed had long descended into silence by the time Zelda mustered the courage to open her eyes once more. Without looking over the edge of the cleft, she knew with certainty that the Demon had survived and had emerged victorious from the deadly slaughter he had initiated. Something inside would have revealed his death to her, a connection forged by the same destiny which held her hostage.

She was no longer in danger, that much Zelda knew, from either the wolves or Demon's insane rage, but it was long before she could muster the courage to look down to the forest floor below. The black-cloaked warrior had killed or driven off their attackers, but she felt only the smallest tinge of gratitude for his efforts. He had not done it for her, nor to save himself, his actions were the product of his insatiable rage and lust to kill.

The princess, started as a blood-stained, gauntleted hand snaked over the ledge and latched onto it, followed by Demon himself as he hauled himself awkwardly into the cleft. Keeping himself near the edge, he sat gingerly while studiously avoiding facing the princess. There was a deep, parallel slashes running across his right thigh, along with a narrow seeping cut along one cheek and a few aligned punctures on his forearm, but the vast majority of the blood which stained his ragged apparel was not his own. Indeed, it looked to the princess as if the warrior of darkness had been bathing in a pool of the sanguine liquid, instead of merely battling wolves.

Still ignoring the princess, Demon tore a ragged slip from his clothing and started to bind the bite-wound on his arm. A sudden revelation overcame Zelda as he finished the task, showing to her the mysterious reason for the raggedness of the black-cloaked warrior's apparel. The surety and speed with which he finished tying the make-shift bandage in place also betrayed a long experience with such actions. _How many times,_ Zelda wondered, _has he done this before?_

Watching the black-cloaked warrior, it was long before Zelda could speak, could once more treat her companion as a Hylian, instead of a murderous animal. The image of Demon throwing back his head and howling would most likely stay with her to the end of her days, but somehow the princess managed to overcome the blatant fear that accompanied it. She had seen the warrior of darkness both save her life and kill insanely and both aspects were melded into the soul that was Demon.

"They were after me, weren't they?" the princess asked, trying to break the silence between them. This was the Demon she had talked to the night before, without the manic killer who had massacred the wood wolves

The black-clad warrior looked up tiredly to meet her gaze, showing her the self-loathing behind his eyes, but his speech betrayed nothing of what he felt. "Since evil has awoken, many things have changed" he answered, looking down to attend to the claw-marks on his thigh, "Wolves run free in these woods once more, as they have not for thousands of years." A bitter smile tugged at his lips even as his eyes remained down-cast. "Who knows what they were after, princess?"

"But something attracted them; else they would have not found us so quickly." Zelda replied, furrowing her brow in puzzlement at Demon's answer. Looking at the fresh wounds sported by the warrior of darkness, she paused before continuing. "It was my fault, my fault that-"

"I slaughtered them?" Demon cut her off, cutting off all pretense of attending to his wounds. "No princess, they are my demons that are at fault for that. "As to what called the wolves..." He shrugged his shoulders in ignorance. "There is such thing as chance, even with destiny such as yours."

"And yours," Zelda ventured, looking deep into the Demon's eyes. "I should not think that the Hero of Time would have a lesser fate than the Princess of Destiny."

Pain spasmed through the black-cloaked warrior's body and he looked away from Zelda's intent gaze. "No…" he whispered, his eyes looking off into the distance, "He did not."

Zelda did not respond for a moment, wondering what the black-clad warrior had meant by his words. But Demon did not give her much time to think.

"We must leave, princess." He began as he finished with his wounds, "If we are to reach our destination by nightfall."

Obediently, the princess edged toward the side of the cleft, idly wondering what destination it was of which he spoke. She hardly noticed as Demon caught her arm, but then his voice broke through her thoughts, bringing her back to the present.

"My apologies princess, but I suggest you cover your eyes. It is not a…nice site below." Waiting only to make sure Zelda obeyed his suggestion, Demon dropped over the side to the forest floor below. He then buried his daggers into the wood once more and jumped onto them to assist the princess in her blind descent.

Zelda found herself clutching tightly to the trunk as she resolutely shut her eyes, but the princess stubbornly refused to open them. She had enough trouble keeping the images her mind conjured up of the slaughter below without having to actually witness it. Reaching out blindly she pulled herself to the edge of the cleft and froze, wondering how the black-cloaked warrior expected her to descend without the use of her eyes. It was a problem that was quickly solved as Demon delicately lifted her by the waist and swung her effortlessly to the ground

Fear once again sprouted in the princess as she remembered what those hands had done only minutes before. Fountains of blood had washed those hands, death itself traveled in those fingers, and Zelda found herself shying away before them. She could almost feel the sanguine liquid seeping into her clothing and staining scarlet hand prints into her Shiekan garb.

Demon ignored her shudder stolidly, knowing exactly what had caused them and cursing himself for his weakness. Once again he had hurt his princess, and the knowledge that he had removed the threat of the wolves upon her person made it no easier to bear. Moving forward, he led her slowly between the shuddering carcasses, making care to avoid the red-tinged pools slowly forming around them. Once, twice, he erred and the princess flinched as her foot encountered a soft, limp form, before delicately moving around it.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pair reached the limit of the slaughter and Demon let go of the princess's hand. "You may open your eyes, princess, but do not turn around." Demon started, noting the paleness of Zelda's face. She did so with a hesitant flicker, looking the black-cloaked warrior full in the face with her solemn blue eyes. Something flickered inside them, and emotion Demon could not name slowly replaced the fear.

"I thank-you," Zelda began, adopting a pose of more confidence than she felt, "For trying to protect me…but I must protest. We are entering a war, a war in which we are severely outmatched, and such things as this…massacre, will happen many times before this struggle ends. I cannot be shielded from the realities of this war if we are to have any chance of winning."

The princess turned to the black-clad warrior, expecting anger and disgust, but his face showed nothing but sadness. "It is a terrible thing," Demon whispered, shifting his gaze away from the princess and back towards the tree where they had sheltered, "To lose one's innocence."

Zelda shifted, remembering Impa, and the killing blow which had stolen her nurse's life. She had seen death, had felt the horrible toll it inflicted upon those left behind and knew its consequences. Abruptly, the reasons the princess had conjured to justify her words waver, but she forced herself to continue. "No," she murmured, "I have already lost that." Turning resolutely Zelda flinched as she beheld the horrible destruction around the tree.

The first thing she noticed was the blood, which covered the entire scene in garish red. Bodies lay everywhere, twisted into contorted positions by the violence of their death throes. In the princess's mind's eye she could almost see Demon moving among them with a speed and grace which totally outmatched the blinding quickness of the wolves themselves. The color slowly drained from Zelda's face as the battle raged in her head, adding vibrancy and motion to the nightmare in front of her.

The black-cloaked warrior looked at her and a curious, dangerous tone entered his voice. "Are you still so eager to fight, princess?" he asked, from behind her. Do you still wish to witness the glory of killing, to understand the truths of battle?

Abruptly turning away from the massacre and carefully finding an unspoiled spot in the grass beneath her, the princess dropped her pack down on to it. "Yes," the princess sighed, careful to keep her eyes forward and away from the massacre behind. "If I am to fight, to take back my kingdom, I must learn." Puzzled by the sudden anger in the warrior of darkness's features she paused before continuing. "I have seen war before-"

Demon cut her off, with a harsh laugh that echoed through the forest. "You think you have seen war, princess?" he asked, his voice lowering into a snarl as his face contorted in pain and sudden despair. "You think that since you have witnessed death, have seen the bright, shining weapons and the men marching off into the sunset with hope glittering upon their bright shields and their banners crackling in the breeze-" he ran out of breath and had to inhale deeply before continuing. "You think that you have seen war?"

Zelda recoiled in shock at the sudden change in her guide, seeing once again the terrible darkness which was festering in his soul. His presence seemed to have grown as he ranted, like he was leeching the shadows from the world around and taking them into himself, feeding upon their insubstantial being. Actually, as the thought flashed through the princess's head, he did not even look entirely human. As if a grotesque presence from the Dark Realm had switched places with the Demon she knew. But then it was gone, and the black-clad warrior crumpled inward, tired and spent, the red fleeing from his eyes.

Once again, he was speaking to someone else, no longer the princess. His remarks were not even addressed to her, but instead to the scenes inside his head that he could not escape.

"But have you seen war?" he whispered, peering off into the distance, his face blank, masking the conflict within. "Have you smelt the reek of fear as the enemy cuts down friends around you, seen the blood fly as the bodies fall upon the stained earth, never to rise again? Have you heard the screams, and the yammering, and the terrible sounds of bones crunching and breaking beneath the stroke of blade and hoof? Have you," he whispered, his voice fading away "Seen the light fade from a man's eyes as you pull your dripping sword from his torn throat, and feel the satisfaction at his death?"

"Have you killed, princess?" he finished, painfully dragging his mind away from the images of his past that had welled up inside his soul. Seeing the answer writ on Zelda's features the black-clad warrior smiled grimly. "No, I thought as much." Then his expression softened slightly. "But some would call that more of a strength than a weakness." He strode forward into the forest, leading the way for Zelda to follow. "Come princess, there will be many more such chances for you to witness destruction and death. Be not too eager to seek them."

Staring after him, Zelda realized that she had finally caught a glimpse, a brief flash of the forces that haunted the black-cloaked warrior, had finally witnessed a part of the shadow that claimed his soul. What forces had caused Demon's slip, the princess could not fathom, just that he had finally made one. That the tortured soul whose memories haunted him day and night had finally surfaced, if only for a few seconds, to voice his private horrors. _I will find a way to heal you_, Zelda promised herself,wondering as she did so at the conviction in her thoughts.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

The companions wandered through the seemingly limitless expanse of the Great Forest for the rest of the day, hardly able to glimpse the sun high above as it burned a fiery path across the sky. They covered the distance quickly with Demon leading silently and Zelda hurrying behind. Several times during the course of their journey, wolf-howls could be heard echoing faintly from the distant reaches of the forest, but there were no further incidents involving the four-legged hunters. It was an arrangement which was highly satisfactory for Zelda and Demon, along with the wolves themselves as they roamed the silent forest. The story of the black-clad human and his sharp steel had already spread far and wide among the marauding packs, told by the survivors of the earlier attack.

Lost in the trees behind them was the clearing where they had first met the Kokiri, but they yet to enter the glade of the Great Deku Tree, even after hours of travel. The princess had long ago admitted herself to be lost, and could not discern if even Demon himself knew where he was leading the two. He must have some idea, Zelda reasoned, remembering the confidence with which he had told her to follow him, but she felt doubt claw at that reassurance. There were few landmarks in the Great Forest, and even the most skilled woodsman would have difficulty navigating it. Demon had many skills the princess knew, but she was not sure if wood-craft marked among them.

The question grew and grew in the princess's mind; feeding off of her thoughts until finally she stopped, calling out to Demon in front of her. For some reason, defying all logic she had ever known, she trusted the black-cloaked warrior implicitly, but even that trust could not quell her mounting uncertainty. She needed a break anyway, Zelda reasoned, and if she could gain some more insight into the enigma that was Demon during the stop, than so much the better. The events of the morning had dulled in the face of the sunshine and the greenery and the withdrawn politeness of the black-cloaked warrior during their earlier stop to eat a noon-time meal. She finally called out to him

The Demon stopped, cloak swirling in protest to his abruptness, and turned to face the princess. He eyed the princess, inscrutably as she narrowed the distance between them until she had caught up, only barely behind the warrior of darkness himself. "It is too early to stop." he began as soon as she had reached him "We have many miles to go before nightfall, before we reach our destination."

Normally Zelda would have taken the statement with respect and obedience, reluctant to question the knowledge of an individual as formidable as the black-cloaked warrior, but after marching for the better part of the day and being attacked by wolves earlier in the morning she was starting to feel the effects of her weariness. "And what," she asked, with perhaps a little more agitation than was needed, "is that destination to be?"

Demon stiffened his expression going cold and hard, and Zelda instantly regretted her words. She had been trained from birth to eliminate such slips, for they could no happen during the diplomatic processes of the monarch, but she had erred just the same and the reaction of the black-cloaked warrior frightened her. The princess could easily imagine what had happened to those who had slighted him in the past, images of blood and bodies rising uncalled for to her mind.

But the Demon just stared, measuring the princess in his silent gaze, before turning back to the forest ahead. Wordless, he continued forward, not checking to see if the princess had followed, his thoughts no longer focussed upon their path. Instead, memories from his past filled his mind, distracting him from his surroundings. Memories of a face filled by the same fire he had just witnesses. For a moment, the princess in his mind and the one who walked behind had seemed almost the same, as if the past had never happened. As if his Zelda wasn't… Demon winced, the thoughts bringing unbidden sadness and guilt that was swept away as he once again adopted the impassive mask of the warrior of darkness.

Behind him, Zelda sighed, feeling a slight relief that Demon had not drawn his wickedly sharp knives, but an even larger frustration at his refusal to answer her question. Closing her eyes, she forced the anger away, before hurrying to follow the black-cloaked warrior into the forest. Annoyance she could deal with, being lost in the endless green of the Great Forest she could not.

The hours passed, grudging and sullen, as the day finally drew itself to a close. Already, the two companions had moved far from the centre of the forest, and a few dark clouds in the sky above marked the weakening of the enchantment that kept winter at bay. The air had chilled two, dropping from the temperature of a late spring to that of early fall, containing within its warm embrace the shivery touch of winter's breath.

Twice during the day, Zelda had seen fleeting movements off to the side, like those that she had witnessed while descending from the Kokiri Village. A slight glow that vanished as soon as the princess's eyes had focussed upon its location, like the colours that dance on the corner's of one's eyes after a brilliant flash. The black-clad warrior ahead of her had not seemed to notice them, and for some reason, Zelda did not think she should enlighten him. Almost, she could convince herself that she had imagined them, and that it would be silly to mention such trivialities to the Demon.

Still the black-cloaked warrior walked a darker shadow among the twilight which turned the colour of the tree trunks to a forbidding grey. Tiredly rubbing her eyes behind, Zelda found it more and more difficult to distinguish the warrior of darkness from the blackness around him. Night fell, and still the two continued onward, through the burgeoning darkness and into the oblivion beyond.

In actuality, when Demon finally did halt, bringing the day's gruelling march to a close, the princess did not realize it. She stumbled forward, before almost bumping into the black-clad warrior in her exhaustion. Masking a jump, at the sight of the shadowy figure which had appeared, to her strained eyes, as if from nowhere, Zelda peered forward into her guide's face, failing to pierce the night which covered it.

"We stop here." Demon announced, his voice devoid of emotion as it swept through the silence of the forest.

Zelda looked around, at the forbiddingly dark surroundings, imagining menacing eyes peering at her from among the trees. Now that they had actually stopped, she was beginning to think perhaps it would have been wiser to continue. Trying to distract herself she voiced a sudden thought. "Where are we to find wood for the fire?" she asked, looking about at the stark forest floor which was unnaturally devoid of the broken limbs and fallen trunks that normally carpeted such environment.

The princess was unable to see Demon in the darkness, but something told her that he had smiled, and she caught a glint from the deeper shadows where his eyes would be. "Fires attract many things princess, wolves and worse. There will be no fire tonight."

Zelda shivered, feeling the deepening cold anew as she considered this new piece of information. No fire meant no warmth, and no light to repel the growing blackness. But if Demon believed that the darkness was a necessary precaution, than she could endure it…and would. Turning away from the black-cloaked warrior and the uncomfortable silence which had grown between them, she stumbled wearily over to the nearest tree and pulled the pack from her shoulders onto the hard ground beside her. Then she too, slumped to the hard-packed earth, feeling acutely the loss of the soft moss which had graced her path during her entry into the Great Forest.

Taking her pack into her hands and rummaging through it, Zelda pulled out the only covering she had been able to transport from the Kokiri village, a light blanket made of the magical-feeling cloth which predominated the clothing and garments of the immortal children. Even as she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, she knew that it would not dull the cold which already seeped through her clothing. In retrospect, she bitterly regretted not foreseeing such a circumstance, but the princess, lulled into complacency by the eternal summer, had forgotten the inevitable climate change which would accompany an exit from the forest.

As Zelda looked over to where the Demon had stood, a moment of panic flashed through her, the cold forgotten. The shadows were empty, the dark figure which had filled them moments earlier had disappeared, and the forest was deathly silent around her. Trembling a little, the princess forced herself back against the tree trunk and willed herself to take a deep breath. _Take control of yourself Zelda, _she ordered, her mind filled with images of shapes in the darkness, _you are the princess of Hyrule, not some frightened girl._

_Demon looked on, from his place in the darkness, unreadable expressions travelling across the dark orbs of his eyes. He had slipped away to escape the inevitable conversation which would accompany their halt, but he had frozen, just outside of the princess's vision, called back by the fear which Zelda was only just managing to hid. She thought he had abandoned her, he reasoned, standing like a motionless sentinel against the pitch black backdrop. The princess had not yet realized the extent of the bond that tied him to her, and the acknowledgement of her ignorance was another blade plunged into the Demon's body. Another reminder of what he had lost._

Asserting massive amounts of control over here fear, Zelda gradually pushed the tension from her mind and body and pulled herself away from the trunk. Then, with all the deliberateness of the nervously aware, she reached once more into her pack and pulled out a slightly bruised loaf she had snatched from her room and began to nibble distractedly at it. Once again she scanned the shadows, wondering confusedly where the Demon had gone.

"Princess!"

Zelda froze in shock as the voice came over her shoulder, all of her fears confirmed, before spinning away from the trunk and searching frantically for the presence that had spoken to her. Aware of how pitiful the small loaf and cloth pack she held in front of her were as weapons, she quickly searched her mind for any other defence against the unknown being in the darkness beyond. But her fear quickly turned to profound joy as a tiny, glistening fairy floated out from behind the trunk, almost blinding the princess after the shadowy hues of the night.

"Navi!" Zelda whispered, the darkness forgotten as she recognized her friend. Unable to foresee how the fairy had followed her, she unexpectedly found herself at a loss for words.

"You must come princess," the fairy began, wings beating urgently as she motioned to the princess. "Before that man returns. You cannot go with him any farther!"

Zelda frowned, an expression that was hidden by the darkness. "Have you been sent to bring me back? I did not think…"

The fairy cut her off, eyes flashing back and forth into the surrounding darkness.

"Yes…and no. But you must come princess! Before he finds us!"

Zelda hovered indecisively, caught between her loyalty to her friend and her fragile trust in the Demon. "He said he would guide me," the princess whispered, "out of the forest."

"Of course…guide you! Without making the decision that you must make! There is great corruption within that man, princess. I sense too much darkness in him for him to be trusted. Too much-"

"Evil?" Demon suggested, materializing from the shadows around them, a flitting wraith in the night. Instinctively, Navi and the princess knew he had heard every word of their conversation, and Zelda immediately felt ashamed at even considering abandoning the black-cloaked warrior. The shadowy outline of his figure was tense and angry, and the princess could almost feel the tiny flecks of red at the corner of his vision.

"You reek of it!" Navi spat, her fear forgotten now that the worst had occurred and the warrior of darkness had discovered her. Glowing defiantly, she placed herself protectively between Demon and Zelda, a move that would have brought mild amusement to both princess and warrior in a different situation.

"And yet," Demon snarled, "I alone am bringing the Princess of Destiny to the defence of her country. What have you done, little fairy? Hide her, that darkness may have no opposition as it sweeps over the land?"

"Do not mock me, foolish human!" Navi snapped, her face clenched with barely controlled fury. "It was you who removed the princess from the throne, threatening to kill her like the insane murderer you are!"

Demon flinched, transparent guilt flashing across his features, but, fuelled by his anger, he recovered quickly. Behind Navi, Zelda had also started, unable to remember telling the fairy about the black-cloaked warrior's attempt on her life. Steeling herself from the inside, she stepped into the fray, unable to just observe any longer.

"Gabriel would have betrayed me eventually." She began tentatively, avoiding the furious look Navi gave her at the betrayal. "And probably killed me in the process. It is to Demon," she transferred her gaze from the fairy to the warrior of darkness beyond. "That I owe my life."

"He tried to murder you princess." Navi said with utter disbelief "And you defend him?"

Demon laughed bitterly, a darker shadow in the night. "She does not see what you see little fairy. Or else she would not be so eager to protect it."

"No," Zelda said, rising to her feet and moving to the side so her vision of Demon was not obscured by the hovering form of Navi. Her blonde hair hung in thick tresses from a face so perfect it made Demon's heart ache. "I see it. I have seen the darkness within you since our first meeting…but there is something else there as well. A tiny part that perhaps Navi, you have not found, that gives me the confidence to believe."

The black-cloaked warrior stared at her silently, and it was Navi who broke the silence. The little fairy's voice was tinged with desperation as she tried to convince the princess to return to the village. Her anger at least, had been quelled by Zelda's words, but not her purpose. "Maybe princess, even the most evil of men usually have at least one redeeming quality, but it is of no matter. This…Demon is trying to take you from our care before you are ready, before you have truly become the Princess you are meant to be. You have not chosen princess, between Hyrule and your destiny…between yourself and the world."

Shockingly, it was Demon who answered his dry, embittered voice resonation from the darkness. "Ahh, so that is why you have come. To force her to make a choice she cannot make and maybe break her heart in the process. Telling her that it is the only way."

He shifted, coming forward closer to the glow of the tiny fairy and towering out of the darkness like some forgotten vigilante come to claim his own. "But have you told her all, little fairy?" He leaned closer, even as Navi floated away, trying to escape the terrible pain in his eyes. "Have you told her what happens to those who wander into these woods, and have the misfortune of coming into the hands of the fairies? Have you told her about the men and women whose souls you've sucked from their very bodies, in revenge for crimes committed thousands of years before?"

Navi was trembling so badly she almost fell from the air. "Do not listen to him princess! He spouts lies!", but her very face gave her away.

A twisted smile adorned Demon's lips, illuminated by the faint aura of the fairy. He turned to Zelda, her horrified stare causing him to pause, but only for a moment. "You see princess, in the last turning of your "Cycle", it was not Aratia who rose up to fire and sword and brought death to the nations, but Hyrule itself. We were the ones who consorted with Evil and murdered innocents in sacrifice to the dark master."

He stopped, drawing in a deep breath as Navi continued to back away, the truth of his words written on his face. "Half the word, the Hylians destroyed, aided by the foul hordes of darkness, before the Hero of Time and the Princess of Destiny could prevail. Horrendous acts committed, things that still cannot be spoken of countless centuries afterwards."

"But there is not a soul among any race who remembers that time, who can picture Hyrule as anything beyond a small, insignificant country between the Great Forest and the desert." He paused, the tension of the moment sitting heavy on his soul.

"Except the fairies."

He turned back to Navi, his anger savouringthe guilt in her eyes. "For two thousand years, they have waged their private war on Hyrule, turning any who venture into the woods into the living skeletons they call Stalfos. Only you and I, of all Hylians who have entered here in the past two millennia have survived." He held up his left hand and removed his gauntlet, revealing the golden Triforce upon it. "And only because of this."


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Zelda cried quietly, stumbling away from the tiny fairy who was hovering almost directly over her shoulder. She could not believe that Navi, the being who had befriended her despite all odds, could be capable of such monstrousities, nor that her beloved Hyrule could be anything like Aratia, even in such a distant past.

Demon's voice droned on, his figure obscured by the princess's tears. The black-cloaked warrior's voice seemed hollow as the rage slowly left him. Once again, the princess was suffering because of him and the knowledge was eating away at his anger. But he could not stop himself, the words flowed from him like water over the falls.

"But the fairies do not fight for themselves, for any grievance committed against their kind. It is the children, those made orphans by the Hylian army and driven into the woods to starve, who's eternal memories drive the fairies to seek revenge against Hyrule. The Kokiri will be children forever, and are therefore incapable of seeking vengeance for the terrible crimes committed against them." His voice sank, and his gaze switched back to Navi.

"But their partners…"

Zelda finally managed to find her voice. "Please, Demon." She whispered, the tears glistening in her eyes. "Stop, she can't take any more."

And indeed, Navi looked like she too, had had her soul sucked from her tiny body. "You should not know these things." She intoned vacantly. "No human ever has."

Finally, Demon stopped, the princess's words eating away the last of his rage. Her tears washed the flames from his eyes, and the pain in her face was like a vice around his soul. He turned away, trying to harden his face with the darkness.

"Navi…" Zelda began, reaching out towards the fairy with any dispute between them forgotten. "I'm sorry." Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Demon stiffen, the sparks sliding from his eyes.

"What is her name?" he whispered, appearing at her side faster than the princess had thought possible.

Zelda didn't take her eyes off the devastated fairy in her hands, but there was a tinge of confusion in her voice. The cold rage that had inhabited him seconds before was gone, victim of another of his lightening mood changes. "Navi." She murmered, cradling the tiny creature.

"Oh goddesses." Demon whispered, horrified realization appearing on his face. "Navi, what have I done?" As if on que, the tiny fairy slumped into Zelda's hands with a faint sigh. Crumpled and desolate, she was barely a shadow of the bright, energetic fairy that had entered the glade minutes before.

Navi, he remembered that name, remembered the fairy from some of the happiest days of his life. She had been his partner through adventures uncountable as he battled to defeat Ganondorf with the princess at his side. Without her, and the support of their friendship, he would probably not survived his many encounters with the forces which opposed him. She had never abandoned him, never betrayed him, and this was how he had repaid her.

"She's dying." Zelda murmered, a few tears still dripping from her eyes.

The black-cloaked warrior stared silently at the tiny fairy for a moment, before replying in a voice which was barely audible. "No, not dying, never dying. Just fainted."

He reached out as if to touch the small, wavering ball in Zelda's hands, but she carefully moved them away.

"You have harmed her enough Demon." Zelda spoke, no anger present in her words, just tired sadness.

"I do not mean to harm her," the black-cloaked warrior explained, his eyes fixed upon Navi. "Once…I knew a Navi in this forest. Once…we were friends."

He tore his gaze from the tiny fairy with great reluctance, looking pleadingly into Zelda's eyes. Caught in-between, she could only stare back, wondering again whether to trust the obviously hurting warrior in front of her. She caught sight of the golden triangle, still uncovered on the back of his hand and reluctantly moved her cupped palms closer to him, remembering the trust which had made her follow him out of the Kokiri Village in the forest place.

Reaching between the princess's delicate fingers with one of his own, Demon gently stroked the fairy's wings, before slowly withdrawing his hand. "Navi," the warrior of darkness whispered, one word, and one word alone.

"But why…" Zelda breathed softly, her pale blue eyes mirroring confusion, "If you were once friends than why did you…attack her?"

Demon sighed, but surprisingly, he did not turn away. "She has changed much since I last saw her, and I fear she will never recognize me. I only saw a fairy, trying to take a measure of her vengeance upon you."

"I cannot blame them." The princess whispered, looking searchingly at the tiny body in her hands. "Whatever their crime. To be able to look into the minds of the Kokiri and see the horrors they must have witnessed, it would be a terrible thing to endure. But," she turned her gaze to the black-cloaked warrior beside her, tears lacing her eyelashes. "I do not see why you believe they have lied to me?"

The darkness which enveloped them seemed to deepen as the wavering glow of the fairy faltered for a moment. No sound pierced the blackness from the trees around, giving the situation an almost ethereal feel like the night was a tangible blanket muffling out all around with its shadowy embrace.

"Hyrule has teetered on the brink of destruction for years," Demon rasped, the harshness in his voice returning with the pain that twisted his features. There was some memory behind his words, Zelda was sure, some dark secret filled with anguish. "The wolves have been ravening to bring it down ever since the death of the Queen." He looked pointedly at the princess.

"You, princess, are the only survivor of the royal line, a line which Hyrule cannot survive without. The fairy's want you to renounce your Heritage, that your country may finally fall into chaos and dissolve into nothing."

"So all of the nice words, taking me into their village…it was all for this." Zelda breathed, painfully remembering how happy the Kokiri had seemed, how welcoming they had been to her during her stay."

Demon turned away, staring off into an unfixed point in the darkness. "No, princess." He started, without moving. "You are the Princess of Destiny, they love you to the point of worship. Nothing could make them harm you, Hylian or not."

"But your country…that is another matter. They saw you as an opportunity, to finally end their suffering. To be able to destroy the country whose heritage has always haunted them."

Zelda almost slumped with relief at being able to once again remember the smiles of the fairies and Kokiri as genuine and heart-felt. Something inside her would not have been able to believe that the tiny fairies had not been sincere in their friendship. A sudden thought occurring to her she focussed upon the black-clad warrior. "But there is no way you could have known these things." She murmered, quizzicly staring at the brooding Demon.

"I said I was once a friend of this fairy," Demon rasped. The memories twisted and flitted through his head, the pain of contentment he would never know again causing harshness in his voice. Once again he had failed one who he had loved.

Knowing not to pursue the subject any further, Zelda turned back to the fairy, staring down at the delicate creature in her hands. So fragile Navi looked, her long brown hair pooled wildly around her head and glistening wings. Pictures flowed back to the princess, of times they had spent together in the Kokiri Village as friends. "So I no longer have to choose," she whispered, "Between my country and my destiny. So many times I've wished for a way out, but this…" The princess nodded lightly to the fairy in her hands.

Demon's face twisted, remembering a similar choice made by the princess which existed only in his mind, but Zelda, bent over Navi, did not notice. Forcefully, he pushed it from his thoughts, sitting silently beside the princess and waiting for her to continue. There was no answer he could give her, none that existed in the shredded darkness of his soul.

Finally, Zelda did so. "It seems as if the world is falling apart." Zelda began, gaining confidence somewhat as she forced herself to speak. "And I know that there is something I must do, but I do not know what. My country is being destroyed and I do not know how to save it, the Great Evil is unleashed, but I do not know how to counter it."

Realizing that the man beside her was probably laughing inwardly at her weakness, the princess almost stopped, but something in the way Demon stood motivated her to continue. "I feel like I'm riding the waves of the Endless Ocean itself, cast adrift without sail or paddle. And the storm is coming." She looked resignedly at the warrior, futilely willing him to understand her words.

Demon gazed impassively back, trying desperately to keep the emotion from his face. Without trying, Zelda was ripping the shadows away from him, exposing thoughts and feelings that he had believed gone forever into the dark abyss of the Demon. The black-cloaked warrior had raised walls he believed impenetrable, but the princess, living memory of a dead past, was slowly breaching them. From somewhere deep within him, the darkness stirred and a small voice whispered upward. _Run, you fool, before all is lost! _But Demon could not.

For a moment, it seemed to the princess as if the warrior of darkness was about to tell her something, a revelation that would let her understand at least a small part of the man's tortured soul, but it was quickly gone. A mask slid down over Demon's face, and he turned away, his cloak melding perfectly with the night. "You will decide tomorrow princess, what path we will take from here. But tonight, you must sleep."

Troubled by the black-cloaked warrior's statement, Zelda leaned slightly closer, staring towards his back in the darkness. "You have saved my life many times." Her innocent eyes stared upward with genuine thankfulness, despite the suffering the black-cloaked warrior's words had inflicted upon her. " And now you have freed me from doubt. For that I thank you."

Zelda paused, unsure of whether she should continue, but eventually her need enveloped her doubt. "But I would like...you to answer one question." She twisted a strand of golden hair nervously around her fingers as she stared at Demon. The shock of the night was fresh upon her, giving her courage that would normally be absent. "For I still do not understand why you decided to help me."

"Is it important princess?" Demon answered, his voice harsh.

Zelda did not respond, not knowing what to say. The silence stretched between them and off into the night. Moments, minutes, longer…

Demon sighed, a long drawn out sound which rose upon the darkness like a candle flame flickering slowly before being snuffed out. "The Hero of Time once swore," he rasped, half turning toward the Zelda "To kill himself before letting any harm come to his princess."

A small spark jumped through the Demon's gaze, the only visible feature on his face. "It is a pity that he no longer exists…Now go to sleep princess."

Having nothing else to say, Zelda walked carefully back to the trunk which had at first sheltered her and laid the fairy in her arms gingerly between two roots. She had no idea how to help the tiny creature, besides leaving it to recover on its own. The princess gave a fervent prayer for her safety, before also adding a plea for her own fate. Pulling out her blanket from the pack she had discarded to the side earlier she pulled it over herself and sunk to the ground. Somewhere behind her the Demon shifted, the slight movement echoing loudly in the stifling silence.

It was long before Zelda's mind could succumb to the blissful ignorance of sleep, free itself from the dreadful revelations that the warrior of darkness had spoken. Her thoughts whirled in twisting circles which foreboded a long, and sleepless night in the blanketing darkness of the great-forest. But her exhaustion could not be kept at bay forever, and sometime during the suffocating thrall of night's dark reign the princess finally drifted off, letting go of the terrible secret of Navi's betrayal.

Deep in the blackness, Demon waited.

In Hylian legend, as passed down to children each night as they lie awake in their beds, there is a time, just before dawn, in which the dark is at its strongest. The moon is weak at this hour, the fable tells, and the shadow rules all until the onset of the day. Time no longer has meaning, but instead stretches on without limit in the expanse of the darkness and one can almost believe, almost, that light will never come and the world will stay forever in the grasp of night.

It was at this time that Navi finally woke, and hovering from her bed of roots, sped off into the forest. Unnoticed, unheralded, by all except a pair of ice blue eyes hidden deep in the shadows. She was a glowing ball of light in the darkness of the trees, and therefore, an easy target for the Demon. Within seconds, the tiny fairy was caged in behind the formidable bars of the warrior's fingers.

"Let me go!" she hissed, flinging herself against the stained leather of Demon's gauntlets. "You need nothing else from me!"

The black-clad warrior strengthened his grip, careful to keep from crushing the fairy. "There is one more thing," he rasped, staring down at the tiny creature. "A question I must ask you."

Realizing that any further resistance against the hands which imprisoned her would be futile, Navi paused, breathing hard from her earlier exertions. "Curse you!" she spat, glaring upward at Demon through his enmeshed fingers. "For what you have done! You are leading Zelda to her death!"

"I have not come to argue with you, little fairy." The warrior of darkness started, "And I too regret what has passed. But I must know one thing, before I leave this forest."

"Then learn it yourself!" growled Navi, "For I will tell you nothing."

Demon hissed with impatience. "The guilt is upon your head, little fairy, not mine. Your commands that were destroying the princess. It cannot be denied."

"It was for the children." The fairy whispered, but there was an undercurrent of doubt in her voice that belied her words.

"No," rasped Demon, "It was for yourselves, the children have forgotten it long ago. It is the fairies who cannot forgive the sins of centuries past."

Navi slumped in his hands, her wings hanging limply. "Just let me go." She whispered, "You have had your revenge."

"It is not revenge I am after." Demon said, carefully releasing his grasp upon the fairy till she sat in his open palm. He eyed the tiny creature for a moment, weighing the scales within himself before continuing. He had to know, whatever the cost.

"There was once a Kokiri named Saria," he began, ignoring the sudden widening of the fairy's eyes. "Who lived in your village. But she has gone, and I can no longer find her." He stared pleadingly at Navi, revealing to the fairy for the first time, the ray of light she had said did not exist. "Where is she?"

Navi stared coldly upward from her perch, hiding her emotions behind a mask akin to the one worn by Demon. "Once again, I ask you, how you know these things. There has not been a Hylian inside under the eaves of the Great Forest for more than seven years and you could not possibly…" Her voice trailed off as she stared upward at the shadowy face which peered down at hers. "Goddesses, you can't be." She whispered.

Demon snarled and pain danced in his eyes. He could not let this fairy recognize him. "Answer my question little fairy!" he rasped, closing his fingers over her once more.

"She is gone." Navi replied, her voice hollow and shaking, "We do not know where. Some believe that she has…died."

The warrior of darkness closed his eyes, letting the implications of the fairy's words whisper past. His darkest dreams had been confirmed, yet he felt strangely detached. As if what Navi suggested was just an illusion, a circumstance which was not truly real, but instead something which had happened only in her imagination. "That is all, little fairy." He finally managed. "You may go." With that, he opened his hands and this time Navi did indeed leave.

She fluttered off into the darkness, her glow marking her passage. Demon watched her leave in silence, his form indistinguishable with the shadows around. The questions that had presented themselves when he first entered the clearing in the forest months before were finally answered and he need not speak any more.

Pausing in her flight, Navi turned reluctantly back toward the black-cloaked warrior. The silent woods held their breath as if waiting for her to break the peace with the noise of speech. She was obviously reluctant to start, unwilling to entrust Demon with her words. "Tell Zelda," she started, dragging the words from somewhere within her. "Tell her to become a Queen once again. Tell her that Hyrule needs a leader. Tell her to embrace her destiny…and tell her that I'm sorry."

She paused and stared hard at Demon, anger lighting pale fires in her glistening eyes. "And pray to the Goddesses that you are not who I think you are." Turning abruptly, the tiny fairy disappeared into the woods, back towards the village that was her home.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Gabriel strode forward among the ruins of his once-great city, kicking through the layered ashes which lay heavy in the burned out streets. The towering hulks of gutted shops stared ominously at him from all sides like abandoned statues of some, ancient forgotten people. Unlike the bustling market that it had formerly been, this new world lay alien and empty, a shadow cast by the memory of shattered glory.

As the king gazed at the desolation he ruled, the regret wiggled it's way deeper into his consciousness. _Why did I agree to this,_ Gabriel wondered idly, _what dreams had I that led me to trust in the mercy of Aratia?_ Around him, isolated wisps of smoke still rose from charred remains, curling upward into the overcast sky. Slowly, it wisped upward, grey tendrils adding to the dark clouds which rumbled ominously.

The inferno which had consumned Castle-Town had burned itself out almost two days before, but the sheer intensity of the blaze could still be felt in the lingering heat and isolated coals which occupied the town. Fully, three-quarters of the city had been destroyed in the fire, and the remaining portion had been thoroughly looted by the Aratian soldiery. Gabriel was now the proud ruler of a ghost-town, one already partially infested by the monsters of the King of Aratia.

Store-fronts and facades had crumpled inwards, exposing chambers behind already blasted the color of charcoal by the heat of the long-exhaused flames. Here and there through-out the tangled streets, piles of rubble blocked conventional roadways, while the collapsed building which created them opened new paths to traverse the destruction. Many had been levelled in such a manner, but most of the city was standing, cleansed and gutted in trial by fire, the shouts of Aratia's legions still ringing in Gabriel's mind as he looked out upon them.

The castle had fallen within hours of the initial attack, its defenders completely unprepared for the ghastly monster which had been enlisted among the besiegers. Creatures worthy only of nightmares had scaled the walls easily and engaged the Hylian guard while the Aratians, with the help of ladders and siegecraft, had quickly swarmed over the defences after them. Gabriel had watched in horror as the defenders were destroyed to the last man by the ferocity of the Aratian fiends.

Drunk on blood and destruction, the crimson-robed soldiers had streamed into the castle in murderous frenzy, intent on sating themselves in Hylian deaths. For five-hundred long moments, Hyrule castle had rung with screams and rings of steel, as the inhabitants of Castle-Town fought and died. It could have been a massacre, could have been the end of Hyrule and it's people, but salvation had come in the unlikely hands of the King of Aratia himself. It was he who had called off his warriors, sacrificing Aratian lives to restrain the creatures of darkness in his employ. And it was he who had finally greeted Gabriel out on the balcony from which he had witnessed the fall of his country.

The horrors of the night had been fresh upon Gabriel's mind, and almost he had pulled the sword which sat eager and ready at his waist to run the man through. But at the critical moment, his resolve had wavered and shivered, stolen by the pale flame which danced in his opponents eyes. Then the act that would have been his redemption slipped away, as soldiers appeared from below to flank their leader, stealing the chance from Gabriel's grasp. Instead, the King of Hyrule bowed low, sinking to one knee before his lord and speaking words of acquiescence which burned against the remnants of courage in his heart. Dark deeds for a dark night… of which his actions were not the least.

The next day had dawned like any other and the horrible events of the night could almost have been dismissed as a dream, were it not for Castle-Town, razed and smouldering, and the impressive army which had camped in and around the Hylian Castle. Puzzlingly, there were no trace of the diabolical creatures which had destroyed the castle defences, as if their very presence had been an illusion cast from the fear of hundreds of Hylian minds. Instead, it had looked very much like any other conquest, with the King of Aratia bringing the terms of a surrender which were immediately signed. Gabriel was named regent of the new territory of Hyrule with a tribute to be paid to Aratia on the eve of each year, and the citizenry of Castle-Town were turned loose to try and rebuild their city. Only the Aratian army itself, which looked to be settling in for a long-term occupation seemed unusual, and the plans they had shown Gabriel, designs for subtle changes to be made to Hyrule Castle.

The people of Castle-Town were now scrounging through the wreckage for the remnants of the shattered lives. Most had taken food from the castle-supplies enough to last for weeks, despite the appropriation of a large portion for the sustainment of the Aratians. Some had even begun to try and rebuild, using the least-damaged materials to patch their homes. The lucky ones, the few whose abodes had survived the infernos were much envied by all, but even they had no better chance than their fellows, as the buildings were promptly occupied by Aratian soldiers seeking more luxurious accommodations than their tents. It would be a hard winter for those trying to rebuild, the combination of the unnatural cold plus the destruction of people's homes would claim more than a few lives before Spring turned it's warm face upon the land once more.

But Gabriel, one of the few Hylians left in the Castle itself among the lieutenants and commanders of the Aratian forces had other things on his mind, namely the mysterious disappearance of his master's creatures. Great pains were being taken to hide the dark monsters, for a reason that Gabriel could not guess. And his ignorance of that motive, more than even the suffering of his people worried him. The evil persona of the King of Aratia did not leave things to chance, there was some purpose behind this act beyond the fooling of Castle-Town's citizens.

But even with the best of his masters efforts, Gabriel had still heard reports trickling in of nameless terrors haunting the ruins of the city and surrounding plains. Children had disappeared suddenly, solitary wanderers turning up dead with horrible wounds frantically attributed to the danger of unstable buildings and structures which frequently collapsed when entered. Howls and horrible cries had been heard during the night hours, and most, if not all, were speaking of demons and spirits disturbed by the Aratians.

Wrapping his cloak tightly around him, Gabriel turned from the square and picked his way slowly back through the debris towards the way he had come. Two Aratians soldiers flanked him, for his protection or to prevent him from running he did not know. Stepping lightly over a still-smouldering plank, the brown-haired noble stole a sideways glance at one, duly noting the fear in the man's eyes as they flicked around the street. _Some of them, _he thought, _are just as unhappy with the state of events as me._

As he glance back toward the castle, Gabriel's eyes caught on another building which the fire had not touched. Rising tall and proud over the burned-out hulk of its subjects, the Temple of Time was undamaged, despite the infernos that had raged around it. Whether by some inherent magic, or just plain luck, the greatest religious structure in Hyrule had been protected from the blaze. For most, it was a sign and a blessing that comforted their hearts, but for Gabriel, whose memories of the Temple were hardly pleasant, it was a reminder of the great betrayal that he himself had wrought.

He led the guards carelessly back to the castle, picking routes through the most dangerous and unstable parts of Castle-Town. It was a minor victory for him to see his escort flinch as supports groaned and slides of ash careened off the shifting roofs of buildings. Foolish it might have been, but he wanted to see invincible Aratia cower for once, instead of Hyrule.

Finally, the streets widened into the main boulevard which led to the castle gates. The large fountain which had once graced the preceding square was dry, it's pipes melted by the heat of the flames and the surrounding shrubbery had been completely consumned. A thin layer of ash littered the paving-stones and it quickly caked onto Gabriel's boots, turning the glistening black into a sickly grey. Here and there, pieces of debris lay scattered under the ash, causing the street to take on an uneven appearance. Gabriel cautiously avoided such mounds, unsure of what might lie beneath the ash. He had believed that all the citizens of Castle-Town had survived the blaze in the relative safety of the castle, but there had been no way to prove it. And he could just imaging some poor soul fleeing the flames only to be overcome by smoke and lie forgotten under the ash.

The castle-gates were manned by Aratian soldiers, but Gabriel's companions easily got him through, into a courtyard which streamed with the blood-red colors of the victorious army. Everywhere, the emissaries of Aratia moved to complete their assigned tasks, transporting supplies, training for combat and desecrating the soil of the courtyard with their stained boots. The only Hylians to be seen were a few of the castle-servants allowed to stay only to complete menial tasks the Aratians would not do themselves. But Gabriel had little time to observe the dramatic changes in his domain as another soldier immediately walked up to him.

"You are wanted immediately by the King." The man barked, his chest thrust forward and his eyes challenging the Hylian ruler. The Aratians had not taken kindly to the orders to spare the life of Castle-Town's citizens, and most knew or guessed that Gabriel had had some say in the matter.

Knodding lightly, the king of Hyrule held out one gloved hand to his body-guards, beckoning them forward as he himself increased his pace. Once he would have laughed at obeying the summons of any man other than himself, but such were the dreams and thoughts of a different time. When the King of Aratia called, a quick response was integral to survival.

Gabriel waded his way through the press of soldiers, ignoring the stormy glances which were thrust his way by Aratians and Hylians both. Near the back of the crowd, he could faintly pick up the foreboding murmers his presence caused, but ignored them with all the grace of a noble upbringing. He could deal with his people later, tell them a story which would once again guarantee their love and loyalty, but for now he would have to bear their scorn. His handsome face masked all thoughts, as he moved slowly but surely towards the castle itself, an ant grasped in the iron jaws of destiny.

It took the brown-haired noble several minutes to thread his way from the entrance hall to the upper chamber of the King of Aratia. The leader of the invading army had wrested the private chambers of the Hylian nobility from Gabriel, preferring to live in as much luxury as could be found in the circumstances. The great oaken doors which led into the suite were now adorned with the gaudy crimson crest of Aratia, Hyrule's coat of arms relegated to a dusty closet in the servant quarters. It was just another example of the conquered status of Hyrule.

Gabriel knocked tentatively on the doors, not relishing another meeting with the menacing figure which was the King of Aratia. Despite the trust the Master seemed to place on him, Gabriel suspected that the man was at least half-insane, and losing more of his mind with each passing day. Men had died for such trivial things as meeting his eyes in passing, or speaking to him without first being addressed. But it was not only the executions that worried the betrayer, but the manner in which they had been accomplished. Within days, each of the disfavoured had been found dead in their own quarters, murdered in painful ways and then, it seemed like to the examiners, partially eaten.

The great doors opened noiselessly to allow Gabriel to enter, although no confirmation of his knock was given from the inside. Beyond lay an entirely different world, masked by a thin layer of dark mist which lay heavy upon the entire chamber. The windows had been boarded over entirely and neither of the two, pathetic torches which graced the chamber could pierce the shadows. In one of the corners, the dim outline of a figure could be partially made out.

For a moment, it seemed to Gabriel, that the outline wavered, thickening and growing, twisting and moving like something out of his nightmares. A glint of green, appeared briefly in the darkness, but then it passed, and the King of Aratia strode forward into the paltry twilight to face his servant. His thick red hair was cropped close to his scalp and the characteristic cowl which he wore constantly was wrapped tightly around him. There was also the familiar fire in his eyes, the only physical sign of his fanatical devotion to the being he called "Master".

"You are late," proclaimed the king, glaring frustratedly at Gabriel, "Our Master grows impatient."

"I was out in the city, surveying the damages."

"It is a waste of time, that pathetic village was burned sheerly for its own backwardness. The new city will be a great and glorious tribute to the Master."

_But where are my people to stay in the mean-time?, _Gabriel wondered, wisely keeping the question to himself. The King of Aratia's eyes glinted sharply as he looked into the betrayer's face, but he did not ask what the man had kept silent.

"The Temple of Time is untouched, and safely in the hands of my men, that is all that matters." The King started again. "Now we must turn to other things."

Gabriel nodded once, trying to keep himself from giving away the fear he felt in this man's presence. The shadows seemed like they were trying to suffocate him and he felt the beginnings of sweat beading on his forehead. The King of Aratia radiated evil like a week-old corpse, left to rot in a forgotten closet.

"The Princess of Destiny," the king paused, looking hard at Gabriel. "The one you call Zelda is the key to our Master's return. She must be brought her immediately."

Gabriel started, wondering desperately why he must once again confront the woman he had betrayed. He had been trying to eradicate his memories of the princess, not bring the living, breathing image back to haunt him once more. "Why do we need her." He argued nervously. "The kingdom is in our hands, I released Gandondorf's shadow…"

He was stopped abruptly as a blinding pain erupted on the left side of his face, snapping his neck to the right. "Do not speak that name!" the King of Aratia hissed, withdrawing his fist back to his side. "You are not worthy!"

A tense moment slid between them as each stared fixidly towards the other, then a smile appeared on the King's face. The man's red hair seemed to flicker and dance in the dim light, like flames roaring in a grate. Then the moment was passed, and the emotions in the air passed away into the shadows, gone with the lightening mood-swings of Aratia's monarch. Gabriel sighed in relief, he had been forgiven.

"If only you had not scared her away," the king murmered, lines of annoyance creasing his forehead. "Before we were ready."

Gabriel bowed again, trying to shift the blame away from himself. "There were unforeseen circumstances my Lord, as you know that assassin, Demon, interfered."

"Of course I know! I sent him you fool!" the king snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously, but this time he did not strike Gabriel. "It is a pity that you did not inform me of his true nature before I contacted him. His death would have added greatly to our Master's cause."

The brown-haired noble remained silence, also bitterly regretting not informing his master sooner of Demon's other destiny as the Hero of Time. Not for the first time, he wished that the insane killer that he had fought in Zelda's bedchamber was dead and buried, unable to interfere. There had been too many times that he had woken up in the dark of night, the image of Demon's rage-blinded, flaming eyes burning a whole through his dreams. "We do not need him, now that our Master is free.

The King of Aratia turned and walked across the room into the shadows with the driven strength of one who has at least partially unravelled the fabric of their sanity. His voice though, was strong and clear, ringing out across the room. "You did not truly believe that you freed our master with those little glittering playthings in the temple did you?" His harsh laugh beat against the walls of Gabriel's mind as the brown-haired noble started.

"But if it was not…"

"No," the King of Aratia interrupted him, "You released only his shadow, a pale reflection of his true power, but yet the only part which could be released by the stones alone."

He paused again, turning away from the door towards the darkness. "But in your favour, you did weaken the seal which binds him into the realm apart." The king whirled, his gaze burning into Gabriel's. "Can you feel his call?" he whispered. "He yearns for freedom, dreams of it every breath, waking or sleeping. The strength of his desire shines like a beacon from the Dark Realm and this loosening of his chains only strengthens it." The deep reverence in his voice sent shivers whispering up and down Gabriel's spine. Before him was a fanatic.

"But if the stones did not free him." Gabriel began, trying to distract himself from the image that was forming in his mind. "What can?"

The King of Aratia advance forward into the meagre light, a cold smile playing upon his lips. This was the man who had ordered his armies to kill all in their path, had burned Castle-Town to the ground without second thought. "When the blood of Zelda Harkinian, the last Princess of Destiny, is spilled upon the Sacred Altar of Time, than our Master shall finally return to this world that is rightfully his."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The forest was bright and glorious when Zelda awoke, celebrating the arrival of a new day. For a moment, the princess could feel the joy of the living growth around her rush through her soul and fill her, too with happiness, but then the memories of the previous night closed in around her. The darkness of the truths that had been revealed to her seemed distant in the brilliant vibrancy of the Great Forest, but their consequence upon the princess's heart did not diminish.

Navi, and the Kokiri Village were behind her under the shadowed eaves of the forest, their part was finished in her quest. She had come to the Great Deku Tree for guidance and in obedience to the last request of a dying friend. Some insight had been granted to her on the perilous trails that Zelda knew she must walk, but in the end, it was still mostly confusion that filled her mind and weakened her resolve. Confusion on the path that lay before her, and the Destiny that had been hers since birth.

Abruptly, Zelda pulled herself to her knees and scrambled ungainly to the hollow in which she had left the fairy. The princess knew almost without doubt that the fairy would be gone, vanished during the late hours of the night, but she had to check, just the same. The fairy's tiny face appeared in her mind's eye, smiling upward into her own with a care-free expression borne of their budding friendship. But like the trust they had once held in one another, the creature had vanished, leaving behind no trace that she had ever lain there.

"She has gone back to the Village." Demon spoke from behind her, making the princess jump. She whirled to face the ragged figure on whom all her hopes now rested. Only through him, could she ever make it out of the Great Forest alive, or have any hope of taking back her kingdom. It was an ironic twist, Zelda thought, as she looked into his ice-blue eyes, that her fate now lay with the being who had come closer than any to ending her life. "She did not believe that I could forgive her." Zelda mused, staring downward between the roots.

"She did not believe she could forgive herself." Demon returned, with, what seemed to Zelda, a brief flash of profound sorrow that quickly vanished. Both princess and warrior were silent for a moment, as they pondered the events that had transpired.

It was Demon who eventually broke the silence. "Have you decided princess, what path you will take?"

Zelda sighed, it was a question that had ravaged her mind through much of the late hours of the night. And even then, after hours of deliberation, she had little faith in the wisdom of her choice. There were too many of her previous decision that had gone awry, and too many questions that were still unanswered. But the princess knew she could not wander desperate and aimless any longer, the phantom's attack on her had convinced her of it.

"My country needs me," she announced, "I cannot leave it to crumble in the hands of Gabriel and the Aratians.

"But," she paused, forcing words out.. "I have also seen the shadows of this Ganondorf, and I know that the time of the Cycle is coming." With that, the princess's voice trailed off.

Demon nodded, his dark cape hanging limply in the wind. The tightly bound rags with which he was attired revealed once again the muscular frame of the warrior of darkness. "Your purposes are one and the same." He hissed, looking down upon the shorter Zelda.

The princess frowned, the night before Demon had said that the fairy's insistence upon her choice had been a lie, that she did not have to make a decision between destiny and country, but she had could not believe that she had been misled so badly. Ganondorf was coming to sweep across the land, and the Aratians were invading to brutalize Hyrule. The two were not linked, could not be…

The blood-stained figure in front of her ignored Zelda's confusion, instead pulling a small haversack forward from behind him. Opening it deftly, he took a small roll, garnished with an unidentifiable substance from inside and pressed it into the blonde girl's surprised hands, before taking one for himself as well. As far as Zelda could tell, the conversation was over, but she could not let the implications of his last comment be forgotten. "What do you mean?" she asked, holding the bread-roll absently in her hand. "They are the same."

Demon looked up at her from his position beside the haversack, his eyes closed and dark to the light around. "You wish to save your people, princess." He stated, his voice as guarded as the face from which it came. "Then do not worry about fate." Mouth twisting into a bitter line he added. "For it will find you."

Zelda paused, trying to discern whether any clue had been given to the mystery of his earlier comment, than gave up. Frustrated, she decided to leave it, knowing she would get no further information out of the man who was called Demon. "Then I what do you suggest?" she asked, the annoyance in her tone causing the blood-stained warrior to give her a strange look.

"You must leave Hyrule." Demon began, rising to his feet. "To find shelter with one of your allies. There is no hope for you here, until you have an army at your back. Otherwise your own subjects will tear you apart, believing you to be a mockery of the princess they loved."

Zelda frowned, feeling that such a course, to bring foreign soldiers onto the land of Hyrule to help reclaim her country would somehow negate her right to rule it. How would her people see her then, she wondered, come back from the dead and denouncing her own beloved as a traitor? _Gabriel…_just the name made Zelda shiver with revulsion. To think she had once considered marrying him…

Shaking herself back to reality, the princess looked back to the black-cloaked warrior before her. He was watching her reaction with guarded eyes, awaiting her answer. "I must meet my people as I am." Zelda returned, "As the Princess of Hyrule, not some foreign-"

Demon cut her off, his impassive face betrayed by the intensity in his eyes. "Then you will die." He uttered. The warrior of darkness stared at the princess for a long moment, then finished. "You must gather an army first, gather your allies."

Understanding suddenly filled Zelda's eyes and she glanced off into the forest towards, she hoped, her former kingdom. "The Aratians have conquered it, haven't they?" She whispered, staring into the distance towards the land she would give her life to save.

From behind her, Demon stared, looking at the princess whose face he could not purge from his mind. She was surrounded on every side, abandoned, betrayed and alone, but still she would not submit. There was a courage, a determination in those sky-blue eyes that was possessed by no other, and could not be stolen. This was the woman that Link had loved…_No, _he cursed himself, fighting back the thought, _this is not her_._ This is not Zelda. _Tearing his gaze from the princess, he forced down the pain which came with memories.

Suddenly, the princess turned back to him, causing her long blond braid to whip over her shoulder. "We will go through the mountains to Termina and petition for their aid. They are closest in heritage and alliance to Hyrule and their prince, Garrett, was once a great friend of mine." She paused, and then continued in a firm tone that seemed more to convince herself than he companion. "He will help us."

Broken from his introspections, Demon stood motionless, his lack of response strangely unnerving for the princess. With an almost indiscernible nod, he finally answered. "Termina it is then."

The silence grew deeper in the forest, as each stared somewhat uncomfortable away from the other. Finally free of the terrible indecision which had haunted her since entering the forest, Zelda's mind whirled with the possibilities of the path she had chosen. Across from her, Demon had found himself at an silent loss for words, witnessing a great weight fall from the shoulders of the princess, a sparkle of hope returning to her eyes.

The black-cloaked warrior scrutinized her as she absently nibbled at the roll she still held in her hand. Abruptly, she stiffened and her gaze slid past the Demon into the trees beyond, bread falling from limp fingers. The forest was completely silent, as Zelda's eyes widened in horror.

Demon whirled, daggers appearing instantly in his black-gauntleted hands and ruby sparks to his eyes. He was ready to sell his life for a girl he barely knew, fueled by the memories of another long dead, but the surrounding woods were empty. Whatever the princess had seen, it was no longer there. Confusion flashing faintly in his ice-blue eyes, he turned back to Zelda, keeping his weapons ready in case another threat suddenly materialized.

The princess was staring back at him, her normally-pale face devoid of even more color than usual. Slowly, she forced her eyes down to the bread-roll at her feet, lips twisting in revulsion. "Those taste terrible!" she whispered, surprised horror apparent on her features.

Two unending moments passed, as Demon gaze bored incredulous disbelief into Zelda. Nothing was said, but slow realization gradually overcame the princess and she colored in embarrassment. Then a different emotion replaced her mortification and the corners of her lips twisted slightly upward as she took in the completely dumb-founded Demon, naked blades hanging forgotten in his hands. She had never before seen the warrior of darkness in such open shock and for once, he did not seem quite as dangerous as the blood-stained murderer who had haunted her dreams. The tiny grin transformed into a smile and then, the unfamiliar sounds of a laugh tinkled welcomingly through the forest, Zelda's first in a very long time.

They two companions spent the entire day walking through the immortal woods, the regal trunks of millennial old trees rising high above them. As they walked, the sun, once shining and warm, turned weak and pale as unwelcome clouds marred the unending sky. The temperature too, dropped even further and Zelda quickly found herself shivering in the thin cloth of her Shiekan suit. Moving quickly towards the edge of the Great Forest, immortal spring was fading into the chill winter of the outside world.

At noon, the first sprinklings of snow could be seen, dusting the once-green expanse of the forest floor. A wickedly cold breeze flowed stealthily between trees, fluttering leaves and branches alike with its passage. Wrapped tightly in the thin blanket that she had long since pulled from her pack, Zelda struggled onward in the fading footprints of her guide. Every once in a while, the howl of a passing wood-wolf would snap her head around, and a shiver would pass through her body that she could not attribute to the cold. All in all, it was turning out to be an extremely miserable journey, one that Zelda knew was only a taste of what would lie ahead once they left the woods.

Thinking back to the day before, and remembering the terrible slaughter Demon had inflicted upon the wolves, the princess pulled her blanket tighter around her. The events of the morning had been eating at her minds all day, and they seemed even more unreal as she recalled the raving killer whose skill and insanity was legendary. Somehow, she could not entirely believe that she had laughed at such a man, despite knowing full well that she had.

Watching the black-cloaked warrior stride purposefully through the trees ahead of her, the princess wondered once again what hidden motive had bound him to her, brought him back from madness to guide her in her travels. There were so many mysteries hidden in the ice-blue eyes, so much pain that the princess could not fathom, but there was also a man whose life had been shattered somewhere in his past. He was a mystery, Demon, the Hero of Time.

Another problem had also risen, the problem of Impa. Zelda had heard Demon say that there had been no Hylian in the Kokiri village for centuries before she herself had entered, but both Navi and the Great Deku Tree had mentioned her deceased nurse and Impa's mysterious journey into the forest. From the conviction she had sensed in his voice, the princess did not believe he had any knowledge of the woman's passage, but she could hardly be sure. Besides, how could Demon know how many Hylians had passed through, without having entered the village himself? Storing the conflicting thoughts for a later time, she focused on following her guide deeper in the freezing abyss of the Hylian winter.

The snow deepened as the two trudged onward, and snowflakes began to spiral down from dizzying heights above. One alighted teasingly on the princess's nose and she wrinkled her face in an effort to dislodge it and rid herself of the annoying blur which clouded her eyesight. Reluctantly, it relinquished its perch and melted into the tight-wrapped bands of Zelda's clothing, leaving a damp spot which was quickly joined by many more. A depressing monotone grey had gradually strangled what had been a promising blue sky, and with it had come a veritable barrage of snow. The princess sighed, and hunched over to protect her face from any other invaders as she struggled through the clinging blanket of white after her guide.

From what Zelda could tell, the sun was just setting when, beyond her, Demon entered a clearing and stopped. Before him lay two cloth mounds in the middle of a vibrant green carpet that seemed untouched by the encroaching snow. Suspiciously, the black-cloaked warrior moved towards the two while keeping one hand on the hilt of a dagger. To the princess, it was obvious that some magic had been performed in the clearing, even without the tell-tales effects of Demon's hesitation to warn her.

As he neared the small patch of green, the warrior visibly relaxed, and Zelda exhaled a breath she had not even known she was holding. Batting a tenacious snowflake from her eyelashes, she followed the black-cloaked figure into the clearing and walked toward him, staring eagerly at what she could now make out as two large packs beyond him. Demon picked one up from the ground and handed it to her, and she stared at it dumbfounded.

It was made of a thick, heavy, almost bark-like material that felt rough and durable under Zelda's hands, but also much lighter than anything comparable that she had ever encountered. Unsure of where the unexpected gift had come from, but feeling like a child on the morning of Winter's Eve, she undid the flap on the top and pulled loose the first of two drawstrings holding it closed. She gasped as her gaze fell upon the stores of food and clothing inside, vastly outclassing the meager stuffs in the forgotten sack upon her shoulders. Strapped to the back with lashings of the same material was a narrow cylindrical object that felt very similar, it seemed to the princess, to a bed-roll akin to the one she had given back in the Kokiri-Village.

Looking up at Demon, her curiosity caused her to break the silence. "Who?" she asked, confusion apparent on her face. Her sky-blue eyes expressed happiness, but also the marked hesitation of one who is suspicious about a stroke of fortune to incredible to be true.

"It seems that your fairy-friends have not forgotten you." The black-cloaked warrior rasped, glancing back into the forest they way they had com. Their was a strange lack of both gratitude and surprise, Zelda noticed, but she thought no further of it as Demon's next words pushed if from her mind.

"Come princess," he began, "The edge of the forest is close. We must not stay in this place long. There are others here, besides ourselves, that can sense the power used here." Shoving his arms into the shoulder straps of his pack, Demon carefully pulled his cloak free of its weight and strode forward out of the clearing. Somewhat hurriedly copying his actions, Zelda followed. At the edge of the open, she paused for a moment, staring back at the beleaguered patch of summer in a world of white.

"Navi…" she whispered, before turning and disappearing into the trees.

The harshness of the cold burned Zelda's skin, as she peered between the rapidly thinning trees into the desolate plain beyond. The last two hours had taken her between two entirely different worlds, throwing the blonde-haired girl into the heart of a furious blizzard which had shrunken her world into a small bubble, hardly extending more than her own length in front of her. The wind-driven snow, once seeming so gentle upon her skin as it drifted down from heaven, buffeted the princess with frozen pellets that jammed themselves into her clothing and face.

They had spent the night no more than twenty yards from where they now stood, huddled inside the blankets provided by the fairies. It had not been comfortable, nor even remotely warm, but it had made Zelda vastly thankful to her fairy benefactors. Thanks to them, she had not completely frozen during the dark hours after mid-night, as the mind-numbing cold slowly seeped through the layers she had wrapped around herself. Even with the blankets that Demon had supplied from his personal supply, it had still been a harrowing experience.

Already the black-cloaked warrior had stopped her once to rummage through their packs for warmer clothing, more suited to the winter that had enveloped Hyrule during their sojourn in the forest, but even the treasure cache of cloaks and scarves could not keep out the chilling bite of the blizzard. Furthermore, Zelda could tell that what they were experiencing so far was nothing compared to the chaos that lay beyond the sheltering boundary of the Great Forest.

Winds shrieked and howled around her, cutting through the layers of clothing provided by the fairies as if they didn't exist. Once again, Zelda thanked the tiny creatures for their generous gift and berated herself for not forseeing the need for such items. She had been told that winter had descended upon the land by Navi herself, had been warned, but when making her escape she had completely neglected making any preparations for travelling among the snow and ice which accompanied the season. _Of course,_ the princess reminded herself, _how was I to know that I was going to leave during the worst blizzard of the last century?_

Indeed, as Demon had led her head-first into the storm, she had been astounded at its strength, having never before witnessed anything of the same magnitude. In general, Hyrule had always had moderate winters, maybe receiving one or two mild blizzards in the extent of the season, but nothing…nothing that even came close to the ferocity which Zelda felt around her. Remembering the uncharacteristic surprise that she had glimpsed in the eyes of her guide as he had glanced backward nearly ten minutes earlier, the princess realized that the storm had caught him off-guard as well, and the implications of that fact sat cold and hard in the depths of her mind.

Pausing at the utmost edge of the forest, Demon paused and turned back to the princess, squinting at her through the snow. Just beyond him the fury of the storm screamed and wailed in a constant eirie shriek, freed from the protective influence of the forest and its governing magics. Ice crystals flew in what seemed to be solid sheets which scoured the frozen ground of Hyrule Field with vengeance, turning the vast expanse into a whirling chaos of wind and snow. It was into this chaos that the princess and her guide were about to plunge.

Drawing alongside the black-cloaked warrior, Zelda shivered reflexively as she struggled to pierce the outer layers of the storm. Snow lay a foot deep within her feet where she stood, but around her she could see the wind-scoured powder was piled unevenly in drifts and valleys, like sand in the great deserts of the South. For the first time, the princess began to doubt whether she, despite the destiny placed upon her, would even be able to complete the journey across the winter-ravaged plains to sanctuary beyond. Faced with the daunting reality of the blizzard, Zelda looked away, only to find herself looking into the ice-blue eyes of Demon. There it froze for a moment, the terrible fury of the storm forgotten as the princess felt strength flow from his soul to hers, transferred by the same terrible will which had kept the warrior of darkness alive through the extent of his ordeals. _Courage princess,_ his eyes seemed to say, _courage. _

Drawing a coil of rope from his pack, Demon forced his cold-numbed fingers to clench as he tied one end in a loose loop around his waist, before handing the other end to the princess. Zelda paused, holding the line loosely in her hand and staring out of the forest at the wall of white before her. She knew what the rope was for, knew that safety rested in her being able to stay close to her guide, but the fact that such measures where needed disturbed her. As she reluctantly tied it around her slim waist, Zelda turned back to the black-cloaked warrior and tried to smile, but he had already turned away, one hand on the rope as he disappeared into the roaring storm.

Only the Goddesses themselves could have marked their passage as the two Destined trudged through the violence of the blizzard. Buffeted by the shrieking winds and pelted with unending sheets of icy snow, both had been reduced to exhaustion long before, but still, hours later they refused to stop. The warmth created by their exertion was their only protection in the alien landscape of ice and cold, to stop meant death.

Zelda was bent almost double under the crushing load of her pack, rapidly depleting energy reserves she had not even known she possessed. She had long before given up on trying to peer through the whirling snow around and instead kept her gazed focused on the taught rope before her that kept her stumbling forward. Hardly ahead of her, but still out of sight, Demon was marching seemingly tirelessly into the very heart of the storm, only the ceaseless pull on the line that connected them marking his movement. _It is as if I am his slave,_ Zelda mused bitterly, in a rare moment of annoyance, _pulled behind my master like a dog! _The more rational part of her brain acknowledged that without Demon's strength she would have collapsed and gone to sleep long ago, but logic was starting to slip away as the seeping cold numbed her mind.

Before her, the warrior of darkness too was fading, his strength sapped by the white oblivion around him. The ice encrusted snow caught his boots and made each step a trial, one that Demon was having more and more difficulty overcoming. Even his sense of direction, once so sure in the face of all obstacles, was becoming confused and distorted by the chaos in which he tread. Only the knowledge that the life of his princes was in his hands, kept the black-clad warrior moving at all, lending him a source of strength that could not be touched by the fury of the storm.

"_Why did I lead her here?" _Demon wondered, cursing himself for putting Zelda's life in danger once again. _"Surely we could have waited out the storm?" _And yet, the question rang hollow within him, understanding he had no choice in the matter. Something within Demon had known that they did not have time to waste or squander waiting. That the storm which now encompassed Hyrule would not pass in a day or week like the ones before it.

The black-cloaked warrior had meant to lead the princess to a small village at the edge of the mountain pass that opened into the country of Termina, but he was no longer sure that either of them would survive the journey. Normally, it would have taken him a half-day at most to traverse the distance between the point where they had exited the forest and the gates of the village, but he had not counted on a blizzard…

A great drift rose out of the whirling snow before him, breaking like a monstrous wave from the oceans of winter. The dulled half-light which always accompanies blizzards shone bitterly down upon it's gleaming flanks in shattered glints, broken by the razor-edged ice which flew unendingly in the air around. Standing upon the drift's utmost flank, Demon knew instinctively that his goal lay somewhere beyond it, and that neither he nor the princess had the strength to overcome such an obstacle.

They would have to stop, dig themselves into the side of the drift and wait to recover their strength, Demon decided, starting forward towards the side of the great mound. He reached backward and put one frozen gauntlet upon the rope which trailed off into the falling snow behind him, making sure it was still taught. The question of how Zelda was fairing in the icy hell of the blizzard had been long gnawing at his mind, despite his already checking on her twice during their journey. Hopefully, she would be able to last a little while longer, just enough to reach-.

The rope suddenly yanked the black-cloaked warrior backward, causing him to retreat two paces. Whirling around, he rushed through the blinding snow, covering the ten paces or so to Zelda's prone body in moments, before kneeling beside her. Then he lifted his head to the hidden sky and uttered every curse he could think of at the top of his snarling voice. He had waited too long.

And yet, he did not have time to waste if the princess was to survive. Shoving his own weakness to the back of his mind, Demon gently placed a hand on each of her shoulders and turned Zelda onto her side, freeing her face from the biting ice in which she'd fallen. As he pulled away the scarf that she had wrapped across her face, the blue-tinged pallour of her lips burned itself into Demon's mind, showing how far gone the princess really was. She had collapsed from sheer exhaustion, finally giving in to the drowsiness that accompanied extreme cold.

The winds howled and shrieked around them as the warrior of darkness wearily lifted his frozen princess into his arms and staggered back towards the giant drift which blocked their path. Voices screamed in his mind as he did so, condemning him to the inner hells of darkness and shadow. He had no right, Demon knew, to touch her, to have her this close to him after what he had done. But he could not let her die, that too would betray the iron-clad rules which governed his tenious grasp on sanity.

Demon was a murderer, a man named after the evil spirits of the Dark Realm whose soul was filled with the blood and horror of the damned. The woman in his arms…

Upon reaching the drift, Demon gently surrendered the delicate body of his charge to the snowy ground and dove into the sloping side of the giant dune. Within minutes he had hollowed out a sizable chamber, sheltered from the violence of the storm by the body of the drift on which he had inflicted the cavernous wound. The blizzard shrieked and railed outside, but Demon showed not hesitation in heading back into its fury, driven by the memory of Zelda's body outside, buffeted and beaten by the frozen winds.

She was still unconscious when the black-cloaked warrior pressed her gently into the snow within his cavern. Ripping the gauntlet from his right hand, Demon held it carefully above her mouth, barely able to feel her faint breath with his cold-numbed fingers. He had led her into this mess. He was the reason that she was on the brink of death.

There was nothing to fight, nothing to kill that would drain the blazing rage from within his soul. His charge was in danger, and his blade could no longer protect her. Looking up from her body, the black-cloaked warrior's eyes were filled with ruby flames, the pale blue a fast-disappearing dream which was lost as fire and shadow formed a raging maelstrom inside his mind. But this time he could not let go, or Zelda would not survive.

Turning furiously away, the warrior of darkness stalked back to the entrance and began to claw doggedly at the roof. If the princess was to have any hope of living he would have block the biting chill of the blizzard from reaching her, before it claimed her life. Above him, the roof shifted and he stepped back, watching as a crush of snow cascaded down across the entrance and sent up a cloud of powder that temporarily blinded him. When it cleared, almost the entire opening had been blocked, leaving only a tiny crack near the top where light and cold continued to whistle through.

But it was only one task in a myriad he would need to complete. Pulling his pack from it's forgotten position on his back, Demon rifled quickly through it, ripping items from it as he went. Skill garnered from a former life welled to the surface of his mind, the pain of his memories forgotten in his need for the information they contained. Blankets, food, flint, clothing, rope, and more, the pack contained many things, but few that could be used to save Zelda's life.

She needed heat, he knew and quickly, to replenish that lost during their trek across Hyrule Field. Under normal circumstances, Demon would have lit a fire, but he had no fuel despite the flint he had discovered in his pack. Zelda would die, and like hundreds before her, her blood would be on his hands.

The warrior picked up the blankets he had strewn across the floor and crawled to the princess's side, staring down at the deathly pale face of his charge. Once before, in a life that no longer existed, Demon had lost his princess, he could not allow it to happen again. But he was no longer the Hero whose courage had saved the world, no longer the man who would have sacrificed his life to protect Hyrule. He had failed.

The icy winds of the storm whirled and howled in the grayish half-light, spreading their message of fear and death, but they could not match the despair in the heart of the man inside the cave, crouched over the body of one he had loved.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

_The sun shone warm and bright as Zelda walked slowly through her garden. Flowers, laden with the perfume of life, were opened wide to the world in glorious bursts of colour that seeped into the very air around to tint it with their beauty. Notes of joy trumpeted from those out-thrust petals like light escaping from the doors to the Sacred Realm._

_Hyrule was in the grips of Spring, the entire kingdom growing and flourishing under the exhilarating expanse of the open sky. Wherever one looked, vibrant yellows and greens were bursting forth and throwing their banners into the heavens. But nowhere in the kingdom was the transformation of Spring more evident than in the royal gardens of Hyrule Castle, private sanctuary of the princess Zelda._

_She was once again the ruler of her country, reigning monarch in Hyrule with all the power and majesty of the position. The dirt and dust of her journey through the forest and blizzard were gone and for the first time since leaving the Kokiri Village Zelda felt truly clean. She wore a white shift that the princess clearly remembered having left in her closet at the Castle prior to her flight, one that fit comfortably on her slight frame and was made of the finest silks to be found in Hyrule and surrounding countries. It was a gift from her nurse, Impa, that Zelda had almost refused, believing herself unworthy of the gesture._

_Thinking of her former nurse sent a slight pang through Zelda, turning her thoughts to the sadness their parting. Her nurse had protected her, guided her in all things from before she could remember, and Impa's death was a tragedy from which the princess did not think she could ever recover. Despite the secrets that Impa had kept from her._

_As she looked at the cloudless blue sky overhead, Zelda mood lightened. It was so different than the blizzard, so different than the howling winds and snow which… Frowning suddenly, the princess shifted her gaze down to the paving stones of the path beneath her feet. She had been walking through the storm, tied to Demon with a rope around her waist, but after that…she could not remember._

_How had she returned to the castle, Zelda wondered, and how had the seasons changed so dramatically without her noticing? Where was the snow, the seeping cold which had defined her existence for the extent of her gruelling trek through the storm? And where- strangely the thought brought more worry to Zelda than any of the others- was Demon?_

_A flash of colour caught Zelda's eye, and she turned, all too slowly, as it vanished around a corner, obscured by giant rose briar in the brilliance of full bloom. In the back of her mind the princess observed that neither briar or the air around was disturbed by the swiftness of its passage, but the worrying conclusions that could have been drawn hardly fazed her; the whole of her attention concentrated upon that brief glimpse._

_There had been something familiar in that sight, a memory triggered by the briefest recognition, but the flaring hope in Zelda's heart could not be ignored. She had seen that flash before, and in some forgotten corner her mind knew it and believed. Who-ever it had been, Zelda had once felt secure, even safe in its presence._

_Turning the corner around the rose bush, the princess gasped, and threw her arms around the woman she had once called Impa. Her former nurse hugged her in return, gathering her slim charge into a muscular grip which belied her training as a Shiekan warrior. Tears formed in Zelda's eyes as she tightly clasped the woman whose body she had last seen bloody and still upon the cold floor of Gabriel's bedchamber. A small part of her mind concluded that what she was witnessing must indeed be a dream, but it was pushed aside by the princess's overwhelming joy at seeing her nurse once more. It was a meeting that she had never believed possible, and, for the moment, she was content just to let her emotions rule, and forget about the troubles that haunted her._

_For her part, Impa was hugging her princess back, her eyes unnaturally moist for a women who claimed never to have cried. With one hand, she lightly stroked the princess's hair, looking off beyond the encompassing walls of the garden into the sky above. She might have been content to stay that way, but for Zelda finally breaking apart, to look up at her former nurse with confusion dancing in her eyes._

_"But this cannot be," the princess started, angling her face towards the taller woman. "I saw you die…I saw Gabriel stab you."_

_"Did you?" asked Impa, smiling mysteriously at her former charge. "Then how do you explain this?" She gestured to herself, her living, breathing body with no trace of the wound Gabriel had inflicted upon her._

_"I am dreaming." Zelda replied as she sadly fingered the silk of her robe between her fingers. "And yet…I wish it were not so."_

_Impa sighed and took a step closer to the princess, placing one hand gently on a delicate shoulder. "It is true, that Gabriel killed me, princess. And that by all mortal reason, it would be impossible to meet…and it is also true that you are dreaming…but." She picked a rose from the nearby bush and held it lightly in front of the princess with her free hand, allowing the princess to inhale its rich scent. "There is much more here, than just a dream"_

_"It seems so real," Zelda murmured as she reached out to touch the flower softly, watching the blood-red petals give slightly under the pressure of her fingers. A butterfly winged silently past, its wings outlined in swirling designs of purple and orange._

"_But I cannot believe that you-!" she threw her arms around her nurse once again, buring the golden mass of her head into the woman's chest. "I thought," she began, her voice muffled, "That I would never see you again!"_

_Impa closed her eyes for a moment, a brief flicker of pain crossing her features. "So did I." she whispered in a voice that was barely audible even to Zelda. It was another long moment before they separated once again, tears glistening in both their eyes._

_Finally, Zelda broke the silence. "Why have you come?" she asked, looking at the deceased spirit that had been one of her closest friends. She could not understand what reason would have the power to draw Impa from the afterlife, unless…_

_Jolts of panic ran smoothly down the princess's spine and caused her to shiver despite the warm spring air. She could remember nothing of the circumstance that had spirited her away, but it was all too easy for her imagination to fill in gaps. Maybe she had died, succumbed to blizzards fury and her body was even now being buried by the merciless snow. Maybe the wolves had closed in and ambushed them, catching Demon unaware and ripping them both to shreds. And maybe, the thought popped slowly into here head; maybe it was Demon himself who had finally lost control and sent her to the afterlife…_

_Seeing her fear, Impa moved quickly to explain. "You are not dead, princess. Just near it. This place we are in is one small portion of the Sacred Realm which the Goddesses themselves have ordained for our use." She paused, reluctant to remember her death. "It is they, who arranged our meeting."_

_"The Goddesses." Zelda breathed. She had always believed that the three divinities of Hyrule, Nayru, Din and Farore existed, but she had not expected to feel the effects of their presences so drastically. Mentally, the princess cursed herself for ever doubting the existence of entities with the power to bring back the spirits of the dead, not to mention being able to transport mortals such as herself into the Sacred realm at will._

_"We never had time to complete your training." Impa explained, "To prepare you for this fate that has been forced upon you." The woman's gaze turned inward as she spoke, feeling the guilt of her failure. "I was supposed to guide you on your journey to find and recruit the Hero of Time and then to defeat Ganondorf and seal him once again into the Dark Realm. But when Gabriel…" Her face twisted in remembrance._

_"But you did, remember?" Zelda began, trying to heal the pain she saw evident on her former nurse's features. "You told me to find the Great Deku Tree, and seek his advice. Without you, I would have been directionless, lost." She looked up at her nurse, hoping that her words were not causing Impa more guilt than she already possessed. "Without you, Gabriel would have succeeded and I would be-" Abruptly Zelda cut off, horrified by her own stupidity. Impa was dead, had already been killed by the princess's former fiancée. How could Zelda have presumed to put her own life, her quest, before the life of her nurse?_

_Seeing her charge's mortification, Impa shook off her own emotion. "Do not blame yourself, princess. You are the Princess of Destiny, without you there is no hope for this world. Your life is infinitely more important than mine own, despite what you may think."_

_"No," Zelda argued. "It isn't. There is no justification for putting one person's life in front of another, not matter what titles, or class they have." She bowed her head. "I am ashamed, Impa."_

_Impa sighed. "Than be satisfied. I forgive you princess, even though there is no need. Now, you must listen." The Sheikah paused for a moment, reconciling her features before continuing. "Do you know princess, where you were, before coming here?"_

_Zelda frowned slightly, trying to recall what lay beyond the blankness in her memory. "I remember…walking through the blizzard."_

_"And then?"_

_The princess shook her head. "Nothing."_

_Impa looked at her former charge searchingly, her reluctance to continue causing worry to spring up in the princess's mind. "What has happened?" Zelda whispered, looking around at the surrounding garden with renewed apprehension._

_The silence stretched between them as Impa struggled to find words that would satisfy her princess without causing her to panic. It was a difficult task._

_"Right now," she began, reaching over to lightly grasp the princess's shoulder, "Your body is inside a snow-cave, being looked over by the one you call Demon. You…collapsed during your journey, and now you are…unconscious."_

_"So I'm not…" Zelda began, hope flaring a little in her eyes._

_"No," Impa answered. "Not dead. But you are…close. Your body is slipping deeper and deeper into a coma as we speak. There is not much time."_

_Zelda remained silent, trying to understand this new information, so Impa continued onward._

_"You have been brought her, princess, as a last resort. It was the only way to keep you from leaving the mortal world altogether."_

_"But if my body dies, then it will not matter what methods have been undertaken." Zelda breathed, hysteria audible at the edges of her voice. She would wander lost for eternity, watching the Great Evil overtake and destroy Hyrule with herself helpless to stop it. Because she had been ripped from the confines of her physical form, Zelda would not be able to enter the afterlife, but would instead become trapped in the space in between, tortured by the knowledge that she had failed in the task appointed to her._

_"Calm down princess, please." Impa soothed, cursing herself inwardly for causing her former charge so much fear. "The Goddesses would not have brought you here if there was no way to save you. Listen to me."_

_Pushing her worry and hysteria away, Zelda nodded. The princess knew she would have to be strong, stay calm if she ever wished to return to the mortal world. Her life was slipping away, in some snow-clad chamber deep in Hyrule Field, she could not afford to waste time. "What must I do?" she asked, fighting hard to stay in control._

_Impa almost seemed to ignore the question as the former nurse began to explain. "The Princess of Destiny is more than just a title." She began, looking towards Zelda. "It is a course, a fate that gives the chosen one power beyond anything that can possible be imagined. Power that stems from the Triforce itself, manifested through the Princess."_

_The former nurse paused to draw in a breath, then continued. "Each time the Cycle turns, the three pieces of the Triforce unleash their forces upon the world, balancing the mortal realm once more with there equalizing influence. The Triforce of Courage binds itself to a warrior, a man whose honour and skill surpass any other, to form the Hero of Time, one able to manipulate the flow of time itself in service to the Goddesses. The Triforce of Power seeks a figure whose lust for domination, for conquest transcend even the individual's will to live. And the Triforce of Wisdom…"_

_She gestured to the princess, Zelda's eyes going wide with understanding. "And the power of this Triforce can heal me."_

_Impa nodded slowly, taking the princess's left hand in her own and turning it so the golden triangle emblazoned on the back could be seen clearly. "The Triforce is the most formidable relic this world has ever known. It can heal…and kill, save…and destroy, give life…and take it. Even divided in three, it still raises its wielder above the heights of any normal being, and even, as you have witnessed, some supernatural ones."_

_Zelda's eyes widened, remembering the dark horseman who had attacked her in the Kokiri Village. Almost reverentially, she glanced at the back of her hand once more, marvelling at the power she carried within her. But she had never used that power, it was impossible._

_The Shiekah smiled slightly, grim understanding highlighting her features. "Have you ever wondered, princess, what exactly you did to the phantom Ganondorf sent to kill you? How your magic, that before could only be used to heal, managed to hurt a demon of the Dark Realm enough to wound it? In fact, the force of you attack pulled the creature completely into the physical realm, and was the only reason Demon's weapons could destroy it."_

_Horror filled the princess's eyes as she stared back at Impa. It did make sense, that incredible sense of power that had filled her and the blindingly pure doom that had flown like rivers from her hands. Zelda had been entrusted with part of the most holy item in the world, and the first thing she had used it for was death and destruction. She had used it to hurt, an act that, even in self-defence, could not be justified._

_Sensing the inner struggle within Zelda, Impa spoke once again. "Do not blame yourself princess, such action was justified. The Triforce, even that portion held by Ganondorf, was meant to be used against the encroaching darkness. You did nothing wrong, despite what you may think." As Zelda turned slightly away, Impa stepped closer, forcing the princess to catch her eye. "Please."_

_"It was not the Triforce." Zelda whispered. "It was me. I wanted that monster dead with all my heart. I wanted him to suffer, like he was making me suffer. And…" she paused, her voice falling till it was almost imperceptible. "I enjoyed seeing his pain."_

_"Princess…" Impa began, putting her hands on Zelda's shoulders. "That is war. You are a soldier now, marching into battle, with all it's horrors. It does not justify wanting to kill, but," she paused, looking earnestly into Zelda's blue eyes. "I believe in you princess. I have known you since before you were ever born and I know you will not give in. Have more faith in yourself."_

_For a moment, Zelda looked more hopeful, but then her face clouded over once more. "It does not change what I felt." She murmered, looking down at the pure white silk of her dress._

_"No," Impa replied, "But now you have the chance to use the Triforce for the opposite purpose. Your body will not survive without its help…heal yourself princess, so the world does not lose its only hope."_

_"But how?" Zelda asked. "I have not been able to use any magic since…the attack."_

_Impa smiled, seeing the subtle agreement in the princess's words. "The Triforce is linked to your belief and conviction princess. It is not like your normal magic. You must believe that you are using its power for your quest, that no matter the consequences of its usage your need of it is too great to ignore." The smile disappeared from Impa's face. "That is what makes it such a dangerous item. Whether for good or ill, the Triforce will respond to one who truly believes they are fighting for a purpose, giving them the power of the Goddesses for their own use. It is why you must be careful in using it's power princess. The consequences cannot be taken lightly"_

_Zelda remained silent, wishing once again, that her former nurse was still within the realm of the living. She had been Zelda's closest friend, and now the princess could sense the distance between them like a yawning chasm. But even as she wished it, she new that she could not go back to her former life. Destiny had chosen her, and its call could not be denied._

_In a last fleeting, show of affection, Impa hugged the princess one last time. "Good-bye Zelda," she whispered. "I must send you back. You must live, princess…Remember that."_

_The world began to fade around the princess, colors slowly paled as they were leeched from the impossibly perfect garden that had housed them. Abruptly, Zelda called out, releasing a question that she had never believed would ever be answered._

_"The Great Deku Tree told me that you had once entered his forest," Zelda called, struggling to discern Impa's fading form from the distortion around her. "Why, Impa?."_

_The former nurse went stiff, her shock suggesting how secret the trip had been. She paused for a few vital seconds, weighing the decision in her head, before she answered. "A close friend," she started, "Died giving birth to a child after being thrown out of her family. It was her…dying wish that I bring the child to the Great Deku Tree to be raised in the forest."_

_Finally, the last vestiges of Impa's spirit disappeared and the world started to go black. "Wait!" Zelda cried, "Who was she!" But her former nurse was gone, and so was the perfect spring morning, sending Zelda hurtling back towards painful reality. Her mind fading back into unconsciousness, the princess tentatively reaching inward, towards the magic she had once possessed, but the hole was still there with whatever power the Triforce possessed non-existant._


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Zelda awoke in a realm of shadows, a forbidding nothingness which defied her sight.. For a moment, the alien nature of the spectacle caused her to panic, but only for a moment. The realization that the darkness was the reflection off the inside of her eyelids quickly allayed her fears.

She was lying on her side, bundled tightly in her coat and layer upon layer of blanket. More than anything, she wished she was able to open her eyes, but even that, simplest of movements, defied her. It was as if her mind was disconnected from her body, floating ethereal miles above, helpless against the realities of her situation. A second passed while Zelda lost herself in the strangeness of the feeling, letting her soul drift off into an ocean from which return was impossible, indeed, undesirable compared with what lay beyond. But the memory of Impa, calling on her to save Hyrule's people, brought her back.

Reaching inside herself, the princess found the hole where once she had been able to call upon her magic and, mustering her courage, reached through it. She had to heal herself, bring the power of the Triforce to life, to use the one weapon she had against the overwhelming forces that opposed her. Besides she mused, the possibility of death, was a powerful incentive to succeed.

She could feel nothing there, even as the princess reached further into herself. It was as if all the magic she had ever possessed had disappeared, leaving her bereft of even the tiniest grain of what she had once enjoyed. Frustrated, she focused herself further upon the task. _I need the Triforce!,_ she thought, laying every bit of pain and fear she had experienced into the words.

Abruptly, Zelda felt something respond to her touch, an incredible power which rushed into her thoughts, tearing them apart with incredible ease. It flowed through her in a roaring torrent, scattering the mind which had been a princess and finding through her a conduit into the broken and dying body below. And from a small isolated spot within the tatters of her being, Zelda watched in awe as the darkness retreated and she began to breathe deeply once more. Within moments, her extremities had thawed and the terrible damage the blizzard had inflicted upon her disappeared. Her body lay beneath her, healthy and vibrant once more, all injuries only a quickly fading memory. Then the power of the Triforce was gone, retreating once more into whatever hidden recess it occupied and leaving the princess to collect herself.

As she opened her eyes to the dim light of the cavern, Zelda found herself facing a wall of snow, her nose barely inches from its glowing surface. A small hollow had been formed by the warmth of her breath, and now a trickle of water slipped downward across the ice-clad surface, toward the floor below. The princess watched it for a moment, unable to believe the events that had just occurred.

Her body was completely and totally healed, Zelda could feel it. Any remnant of the damage she had incurred during the storm was gone, indeed, she felt possibly better than before they had even started their journey. But it was how Zelda had accomplished the act that scared her. The princess had called upon the Triforce, harnessed the power of an artifact believed to have helped created the world. With new hope burning in her eyes, she struggled free of her blankets and turned to the rest of the cave, starting at the sight before her.

On the far side of the cave, for once without his cloak, Demon was kneeling on the cold, ice-clad floor, his head bowed. He was muttering wildly, but so quietly that Zelda could barely hear it. Instinctively, she moved forward to listen, her curiosity outweighing the left-over shock of her near-death experience.

The princess's feet made no sound on the tightly-packed snow as she moved across the chamber and she was able to approach the Demon's back with little difficulty. Something inside her warned against approaching such an dangerous warrior without first giving warning, but a different part, a much stronger one, needed to hear whatever Demon was saying, if just to help her understand a little more of his lost soul.

His voice rose and fell in harsh and unpredictable rhythms, accusation and despair heavily lacing the muttered words.

"Your fault. You killed her." The rasping whisper raged. "You failed her again. Again!" Demon paused for a moment, drawing breath, his shoulders shaking with conflicting emotion.

"You should have died. So long ago. Gone back to her, before." He laughed then, a bitter noise that embodied the thoughts of a man who has truly despaired. "Too late now. You let her die." Abruptly, her rose, whipping to face the terrified princess, his hands going to the dagger hilts at his side.

"Why do you always haunt me!" he snarled, rage twisting lines across his face. "You are dead. Dead! You do not deserve this. Go back and tell the Goddesses that Ganon was right." He laughed again. "I am no better than he."

Unable to make sense of his rant, Zelda stepped back, putting a little distance, however futile, between her and the raging warrior. "I'm still alive, Demon." She began, "The Triforce healed me."

The black-clad warrior's face twisted, the agony of self-hatred evident on his features. "Please princess." He rasped, "Do not call me by that name. I beg of you….you should have never seen me…like this." He paused, pain blanketing the smoldering rage in his eyes. "Please Zelda," he whispered, "Let me die in peace." With that, he pulled one of his knives free of the scabbard, bringing it to glitter dully in the twilight of the chamber.

"No!" Zelda cried, reacting instinctively to the pain she could see blatant on Demon's face. Rushing forward, she grabbed his hand, struggling to keep him from hurting himself.

Confusion flashed in the warrior's eyes, as he looked down at her. Then his gaze turned to the empty blankets in the corner of the room. "It cannot be." He murmured, "I was too late." Stumbling away from the princess, he broke free from her grasp and sheathed his weapon. "But then how…"

Looking down at her renewed body, Zelda imagined how it must have looked before her healing, picturing the blue-tinged skin and lifelessness of the near-death. In the hellish world of a blizzard, with few supplies and no way to start a fire, the situation would have been hopeless, indeed, Zelda should have died. It was only the direct intervention of the Goddesses that had prevented it.

"The Triforce of Wisdom healed me." She repeated, gesturing to the golden triangle upon her hand. "Before it was too late." She took a tentative step closer to the black-cloaked warrior. "Do you hear me Demon?" she asked, "Zelda is still alive."

For a moment, hope filled Demon's face and he looked up to meet the princess's eyes, but it quickly faded, a brief ray of light engulfed by the thundering storm. "No you're not." the warrior rasped, "Don't you remember princess?" He laughed, a sound that was ripped from his throat almost painfully. "You destroyed yourself after we locked Ganon in the Dark Realm." He paused again, looking down at his blood-stained gauntlets in disgust. "And me too, it seems."

Shock flickered through Zelda, making her momentarily forget even the blizzard which screamed dully through the snow walls around them. "What do you mean 'when Ganon died'", she breathed, staring intently at the black-clad warrior. "Isn't he the one we are fighting?" Her voice took on a rougher tone. "The Dark Lord. The Great Evil. The monster Gabriel is trying to release?"

Demon stared at her in shock, madness and rage draining from his features. In relief, Zelda relaxed slightly, knowing that with it went the immediate urge to turn his daggers on himself. "You truly do not know, which means…" He glanced at the rumpled blankets where the princess had lain. "That somehow…"

His eyes narrowed. "How did you learn to use the Triforce?"

But Zelda was not put off. "What aren't you telling me, Demon?" she started, staring hard at his black-clad form. "There is something you know about this…Ganondorf. Something that could help me save Hyrule. Please," she paused, her voice becoming more tentative as she realized the tone that she had taken. "tell me."

Demon stiffened, his face hardening against the plea in her eyes. She was lost, desperately searching for a way to save her people and her country, and she thought he could help. The shadows in his mind screamed, trying to sweep his defenses away once more, but he held them back, exiling his inner demons to the darkness. He could not give in.

But what really did he know? This was a different war than the one he had fought seven years before, a different world without the allies or power that had once been his. And even to tell her the little information he had would raise questions he could not answer, questions about his past. Demon could imagine the look in Zelda's eyes, the fear and disgust that once, even if it had not been herself, a princess of Hyrule had loved the shattered creature that now called himself Demon. No, he decided, I can tell her nothing.

Her words from the forest echoed in his mind: _"I feel like I'm riding the waves of the Endless ocean itself, cast adrift without sail or paddle. And the storm is coming." _The desperation in her blue eyes tore at his soul, but his will was iron, and it would not break.

"You would glean wisdom from the mutterings of the damned?" he grinned, letting a little of his soul's darkness show in his eyes. "Ganondorf will die, or we will. The Prophecies say that clear enough." Walking to where the rumpled blankets festooned the snow floor, he grabbed them and began stuffing the coverings into his pack. "If you are truly healed, princess, then it is time we continued. The Village is close." With that, he threw the pack over his shoulder and strode to the door.

As if waking from a dream, Zelda tore her gaze off of her companion and shifted her own pack to her shoulders, before following him out into the howling blizzard. Questions continued to swirl in her mind even more thickly than the driven snow around her, but she knew that Demon would not answer them. But what disturbed her most was not what Demon had said, but what he had assumed Zelda already knew. What he had assumed she had done, even when the circumstances for such actions were so far in the future she could barely think of them.

She tied the offered rope around herself once more, and headed out into the shimmering white wall of the storm. Leaving the ice-cave behind her in a collapsing momento of an impossible journey across the ice-clad expanse of Hyrule Field. The had survived so far, with the help of the Triforce itself, but Zelda did not think such luck would be possible again. She prodded the lifeless hole in her mind, and felt no response. The princess was on her own.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Zelda's heart leapt with joy as the first, faint buildings outlined themselves against the snow-clad boulders of Death Mountain. It was a dreary sight that would normally arouse no interest, grey and white mounds huddled together like men around a fire, but to the storm-wearied princess, it was the gates of the Sacred Realm themselves, opening to admit her. There were very few things that would have been more welcome than this inviting prospect of warmth and relative safety.

Despite her healing, Zelda was still barely able to drag herself through the Village gates and into the square beyond. Whatever Demon had said about their destination being close, the journey had sapped the blonde-haired woman's strength considerably, leeched by the ever-present chill. Dimly, the princess wondered how the warrior at her side could even stand, nevertheless fight, as it looked as if he had every intention of doing. It was strange, how, as they entered the town, he seemed to grow more tense rather than less, one hand fingering the hilt of a knife at all times as he shifted his razor-sharp glare between the buildings that flanked them.

A fleeting sadness filled Zelda as she watched him, here was a man who had been so alienated by his fellows that he was more at home in the screaming hell of a blizzard than in the company of others. Indeed, the princess realized, it was only for her sake that he had entered the town at all, despite the blizzard. It was a sobering thought that made Zelda vow once more to heal him, whatever the cost to herself.

The princess had been to Kokariko Village before on royal visits, usually during the summer months when travel was easiest and the golden halo of Death Mountain, rising to unsurpassed heights above the village, seemed almost beckoning. But she had never witnessed the true spirit of the town, without the endless banners and cheering throngs which habitually mark the visits of royals. Now, the village seemed almost asleep, as if in their endless war against the blizzard, the inhabitants had withdrawn to the separate world of their own mantles, and forgotten about the wide existence outside their small bubbles of light and happiness. Lost in thought, Zelda started as Demon lightly touched her shoulder, his ice-hard gaze belying any tenderness in the touch.

"We must find shelter." He roared, working hard to make his voice be heard over the storm.

"An inn." Zelda yelled back, thinking for a moment before continuing. "I think I can find one."

Nodding mutely, Demon waited for her to take the lead, then fell into step behind her, ready to step in should she collapse again. Circling around a covered well in the middle of the square, Zelda turned down a side-street between two buildings and hurried forward. She was thankful for the shelter the narrow space offered, the first since leaving the chamber that Demon had dug into the snow-bank. It was refreshing to be able to see snowflakes falling around her in gentle patterns, instead of being driven by the wind into ice-clad needles.

She was looking for a certain inn, a momentary glimpse she had stolen during her last visit. It had been from the middle of her honor guard, riding through the streets of Kokariko Village in one of the processions that had marked her regency. Her gaze had been drawn by a small child ducking into a side-alley, but it was the sign above him that held her attention. Upon it had been a man clothed in green, holding a sword and shield in the ready manner of one who knew how to use them, and beneath him the words, "The Warrior". It had struck her as a bizarre name for an inn, especially since the ancient legends of the Hero of Time and the Cycle were almost forgotten in Kokariko, but she was glad of it now, for otherwise she would not have remembered.

Abruptly, the swinging, gold-edged sign appeared out of the snow in front of her, along with the inn which it heralded. As Demon rounded the corner behind her and saw the sign, she felt him stiffen, but Zelda was concentrating too hard to pay it any mind. On both sides of the street around it, other businesses slept under the obscuring cloud of the storm, dark windows and barred doors showed the absence of their proprietors. But The Warrior was in the height of its business, flowing with the inhabitants of the village, and, judging from the tracks that wandered through the fallen snow, some of the proprietors of the other shops themselves.

Eager to escape from the biting cold, Zelda hurried up to the large wooden door, but then paused as she remembered the silent presence behind her, She turned to the Demon and eyed him worriedly, noting both the blood-stains on his clothing and the harshness of his face. The princess had hoped to lie low in the village, to evade any influence Gabriel might have among the inhabitants of Kakariko, despite its remoteness from the capital, but with a companion like Demon, that hope seemed hardly possible.

Demon smiled wryly in the lantern light, reading some of her emotion from her face. "An interesting name for an inn, princess." He muttered, smiling grimly. "Are you searching for omens?" It could have almost been a joke, but the princess could see the bitterness in his eyes. Letting his face fall once more into an expressionless mask, he brushed past Zelda and wrenched open the door, holding it open for her to pass through.

Sighing, the princess daintily stepped over the threshold and entered the inn, feeling flakes of snow brush past her onto the dark, stained wood floor. If she could have, she would have turned right around and left, but it was impossible as Demon had followed her through the opening. The final straw was when he closed the door behind them, cutting their connection to the blizzard outside, which in hindsight seemed almost welcoming.

The front room of The Warrior was a collection of rough tables separated by aisles which ran to a hidden kitchen beyond the back wall. At the left, a staircase ran to the second-floor, where Zelda assumed the accommodations were kept for overnight guests. But it was the people at the tables who had made the princess uneasy.

As soon as the door had opened, all of them had ceased their conversations and turned to gawk at the new arrivals with un-restrained curiosity. And when they had glimpsed Zelda, her face partially hidden by the hood of her coat, their interest had only intensified. It was not often that travelers came to the village in the middle of a blizzard, especially not ones with the exquisite beauty of the princess.

For a few seconds, the room was completely silent as the inn occupants continued to stare at the golden-haired woman. One young man in the corner went so far as to stumble half-way to his feet, a clumsy attempt to greet the angel who had just walked into his existence. A single coin clattered to the wooden floor somewhere in the room, but no one made any move to retrieve.

Then the first of the villagers noticed Demon.

His muffled gasp brought the attention of the others to the black-cloaked warrior, who had not moved from his position just inside the door-frame. Demon stared back at them, matching his audience gaze for gaze with a flatly threatening look which sent even the bravest back to their drinks and conversations. Within moments, the inn was once more a jumble of shouts and laughter, with Zelda and her companion carefully-ignored. It was so different than the stark silence from moments before that the princess could hardly believe that the crowd had even noticed her, instead of having spent a good half-minute gawking at her appearance.

Pulling her thoughts back into line, Zelda decided that their first duty was to obtain a room where she and Demon could warm themselves and unpack their belongings. Already, she was aware of how roastingly hot it was in the common room, and her discomfort was only amplified by the bundled coats that the princess was wearing. But most of all, she needed to get away from the villagers' prying eyes before any of them mustered the courage to question her and Demon about their strange entrance.

As she strode down one of the aisles to the kitchen beyond, Zelda could feel the black-clad warrior's presence at her back following her, and for once she felt grateful. It was an assurance of a safety in a strange world, despite the inherent dangers of Demon himself. Looking around the room, she could already see people drinking, gambling and laughing rauciously at jokes she sensed could hardly be appropriate. A different world, for a traveler, not the princess she had been before. _So this is what it's like, _Zelda mused, _to be a citizen rather than a ruler_.

She confronted the first person she found inside, a serving maid by her dress and bearing. "I wish to rent a room," she said, "Where can I find the owner?"

The maid stared curiously at the princess for a moment, before a glimpse of Demon caused her to go slightly pale. "Master Kashi?" she stammered, darting one more fear-laden glance at the princess's companion before returning her gaze to Zelda. "He's right over there." She pointed to a barrel-chested man in the midst of a lively discussion with a person who seemed to Zelda to be the cook. Turning back to the maid to thank her, the princess discovered that she was already gone, having scurried back through the door to the common room while their backs were turned. Shaking her head in frustration, the princess marched over to the man named Kashi, beckoning for Demon to follow.

The cook was crouched defensively behind his oven while Kashi yelled whole-heartedly at him when Zelda tapped him lightly on his arm. He waved her off absently with a muttered "Can't you see I'm busy?", before continuing his tirade, punctuating his points with shaken fists and rapid arm gestures, but Zelda would not be ignored.

"I need two rooms for the night," she said icily, glaring at the gigantic man before her, "And I will not wait."

Frustration largely apparent on his features, Kashi turned towards her, his vast height advantage making him positively loom over the smaller princess. "I said I was busy!" he roared, "Now leave me some peace." Whirling back to face the cook, who had been edging towards the doorway, he continued his lecture.

Baffled, Zelda looked back at Demon, who was absently stroking the hilt of one of his knives. "Stop that!" she hissed, "Killing him won't help us."

The black-cloaked warrior's eyes widened in surprise as he realized what he had been doing, but it didn't last long. "We don't belong here, princess," he replied, the cold edge of anger invading his speech. "There are other places."

"Which will be no different than this one. Most likely worse." Zelda interrupted, fatigue and anxiety causing her to lash out more than she usually would have.

"Then let us continue." He suggested, "We can find shelter in the pass. There are-

"There are no other options!" Zelda broke him up, then her eyes widening as she realized that the room had fallen deathly silent. As she looked up the princess could feel the eyes of the serving maids, cook and owner alike upon her, subdued into shocked silence by the volume of her words.

Kashi had his eyes fixed upon Demon, and in Zelda's mind, his face seemed a little paler than when she had first entered. It was a long moment before he looked at Zelda once more, and when he did it was with renewed respect. "You are traveling with…him?" he asked, wonder apparent in his words.

"Yes." Zelda replied, concealing her puzzlement behind her defensive tone.

"You said you wanted two rooms?" the bartender continued, crossing his arms over his chest.

Uncharacteristically, it was Demon who answered. "One." He rasped, eliciting startled looks from both Zelda and proprietor. "With two beds."

Kashi was solemn as he looked at the black-clad warrior. "Then you have it."

"Thank-you," said Zelda as she reached for her purse, or for where it should have been. Only then did it hit her that she had left it, along with all of her rupees when she had left the castle. Cursing herself, she prepared to apologize to Kashi, but Demon stepped forward before she could.

The warrior pulled a twenty-rupee piece from somewhere inside his attire and held it out to the bar-tender. "Will this be enough?" His voice held the same flat, emotionless tone he used in all conversation.

Kashi sighed, staring suspiciously at Demon once again. "Not nearly." He muttered. "Not nearly." But he took the purple rupee anyway and beckoned to the nearest maid. "Escort these two upstairs and give them a room. The best." Without waiting to acknowledge her incredulous response he turned back to the cook. "Now," he began. "Where were we?"

Their room was nice, Zelda admitted to herself as she set down her pack on the wooden boards beneath her. Not as elaborate as the ones she had been given on her last visit, but that had been as the Queen of Hyrule, not a desperate, half-frozen traveler. In fact, as she stared at the embroidered curtains and the carpets that adorned the floor beside the beds, it was almost too nice, something that would be given to a guest of honor or rich merchant.

Shaking the thought from her head, Zelda told herself to just be grateful, and busied herself shedding the various cloaks and coats she was wearing. Just behind her, Demon too removed his coat and then walked over to the hearth to start the fire. His boots left a trail of muddied snow and ice across the floor, but he did not seem to care.

It took what seemed like an eternity for the fire to start warming the chamber, and even when it did so, Zelda still shivered. Snow had been driven into every possible opening in her various layers of coats and now the Shiekan outfit she had been wearing ever since their exit from the Kokiri Village was soaking wet. She glanced longingly at the bath-chamber off to her right, but held back, knowing instinctively that there were still other duties and responsibilities that-

When she turned back, Demon was staring at her from his position beside the fire-place. "Go princess." He uttered, his face expressionless. "I will guard the door."

Zelda almost laughed at the suggestion, but then realized that the black-cloaked warrior was serious. He would be ready, no matter what the occurrence. Opening her pack, she almost smiled, as a picture of Demon standing guard outside her door filled her head.

Suddenly, shame filled her as she remembered her actions in the kitchen. She sighed, and stopped gathering clothing from inside her pack to look into his eyes. "There were some things that I said downstairs that I shouldn't have." The princess lowered her gaze uncomfortably. "They were untrue."

"No." Demon stated, "They were true. But…" He nodded his head once, a curious emotion present in his face. "I accept…your apology."

Zelda smiled, her pale complexion lighting up in relief. "Thank-you Demon." The princess stared at him for a moment longer, wishing to find something else to say, but in the end she just gathered her clothes and went into the bath-room. It was a very long time until she came out again.

When she had disappeared, Demon reached down into his pack and began searching for his bed-roll. He had no intention of sleeping on the bed that had been provided for him, not after months of sleeping on the ground. Indeed, he had only asked for it to keep Zelda from embarrassment. She had wanted two rooms. Two rooms! The black-cloaked warrior snorted, how was he to protect her if they were sleeping in separate rooms?

The princess, he knew, thought that the danger was past for now, that nothing could reach her in the midst of a village, but Demon knew otherwise. Once you had been revealed as one of the Destined there was no safety, ever. And as his experience in his past-life had shown him, Ganondorf had more than just monsters in his pay. Hylians too had gone over to the dark lord, seduced by his power, and they could easily infiltrate an inn and slip a knife into some sleeping throat. Demon growled at the image that thought conjured, clenching his hands into gauntleted fists. He would die, before letting them reach Zelda.

He finished rolling out his sleeping pad and turned his full attention to the room, noting potential spots for assassins to hide. Then he searched them, sticking his head into every corner and crevice in an attempt to assure himself that there were no threats within the chamber itself. Only once he had finished, did he crawl back to his position beside the fire in an attempt to dry his soaked clothing.

In some bizarre way, it reminded the warrior of the snow-shelter he had dug to shelter the unconscious body of the princess in. And with that memory came…anger. Anger at the loss of control which had almost driven him to abandoning Zelda in the middle a blizzard, alone against the elements around. Once again, the darkness that he strove so hard to fight had risen to the surface and drowned out all else, while he, an impotent observer lost in the swirls of rage, could only watch.

That Demon had thought the princess dead did not occur to him. It was his own weakness, he reasoned, that had made him lose control. He did not regret wanting to kill himself, he had lived with that thought for years, but that he had almost failed the princess once again, despite his vows. _Maybe I am too weak, _Demon thought, _maybe Zelda is ashamed of the sacrifice she made to save my life._

The thought made the black-cloaked warrior snarl, tensing his hands into gauntleted fists. There was still too much pain in the name of the princess, flowing from a source that had been destroyed years before. _She is gone, _Demon forced the truth into his mind,_ forever._ But the anguish was still there, and even as he tried to force himself to accept the death of his love, a part of him wished for the millionth time that it had been him, not her, who had died that day, seven years before.

Then a different thought occurred to him, brought by the sound of water splashing into a wooden bathtub behind the door. And for the first time, Demon almost allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, there had been a purpose in his return, despite the pain. For now, he had a princess to protect once again.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

The winds howled against the side of the inn all night long, but Zelda slept soundly, too tired to notice their unnatural shrieking. "The Warrior" had been built solid and strong and there were no cracks or channels through which the storm could reach her. Snuggling deeper under the down covers of her bed, the princess wandered through many dreams, most to do with a country called Hyrule and the destiny which now ruled her life, but a confusing few involving a man called Demon.

Outside the surrounding walls, Kokariko Village slept as well, slowly being buried by the drifting snows. It was a small town, surrounding the square where Demon and Zelda had first entered, but larger than any other on the path through the mountains. Once, it had been the ancestral home of the Shiekahs, but the fires of civilization had long since consumned that ancient race and now only their few monuments remained to mark their passing.

To the West, Hyrule Field stretched out into the distance, an unbroken expanse of giant snow-drifts which spelled disaster for any traveller foolish enough to enter their labyrinth. But that had not stopped them, for here and there across the white lay tiny threads, twisting and turning their way through the treacherous snow. And from the air, they did indeed look like the tracks of Hylian travellers, for it would have taken a much closer examination to see the claw-prints which graced each toe, or even the alien shape of the prints themselves. Ganon's monsters were spreading, trickling back to their ancestral homes from which they'd been driven thousands of years before.

Farther still, the soaring parapets and towers of Hyrule Castle rose out of the blizzard like a breaching leviathan, taking in one last, gaping breath before plunging once more to the crushing depths of darkness. Up in the tallest tower one light still burned, and if one listened closely, the harsh voice of the King of Aratia could almost be heard, chanting his spells in an ancient tongue whose like had not been heard since the Time of Darkness itself. Power had the King been given, power beyond any in the circles of the world, save the Triforce wielders themselves, but even he could not divine the answer he was seeking. Where was the princess? The one whose blood could release the Master?

To the North, in the sprawling empire of Aratia, fires burned day and night and the cruel beginnings of a revolution spawned themselves in the blood-bathed sand of the arenas. Too long had the gladiators been forced to destroy themselves for the pleasure of their blood-thirsty fellows, too long had they fought each other in meaningless squabbles while the upper class threw away their lives. As one they awoke, to find that those who would have opposed them were gone, occupying Hyrule while their King raved in madness.

And somewhere, in the shadows of her prison, one small Kokiri girl cried herself to sleep on a hard-packed dirt floor, strands of green hair hanging dully over her tear-stained face.

But Zelda knew none of this. Curled up in her blankets, she was a tousled mound upon the sheets, secure in her small bubble of warmth. The world turned, on and on, and slowly the moon began to fall towards a new horizon. In the last, wavering moments of night, the light of a new day bloomed over Hyrule.

When the princess finally poked her nose out of her cocoon, the grey shine of the blizzard had brightened, signalling the arrival of dawn. Glorying in the feeling of the soft bed beneath her she stretched contentedly, before sitting up and pushing tenacious strands of hair from her face. And for the first time in months, it was an actual wall, not some tree or bush that met her eyes.

Zelda knew that the inn was desperately rough compared to the luxuries she had enjoyed as ruler of a kingdom, but after the unhabitable extremes of the blizzard, it was the Sacred Realm itself. It seemed like years since she had woken in a real room, away from the prying eyes of the outside world, alone. And yet, as her gaze was dragged to the shadowy form of Demon, she knew that she was not alone, would never be as long as his strange oath held true, and the thought provided more comfort than she thought it would have. She almost smiled at his dark form, stretched out in front of the only door as a lethal obstacle to any would-be assassin.

The muscular warrior was still asleep, but prior experience had taught the princess that his senses, even in slumber, were still more than a match for her own. Demon rested on a hair-trigger and would be awake, daggers in hand, at the slightest provocation. In retrospect, it was a wonder that she had even been able to sit up without rousing him, the trials of the previous day must have taken more of a toll on the man than she had thought.

As she pulled herself from the lingering effects of sleep, Zelda found herself studying the warrior's face with puzzled amazement. For once, the ravaged features of Demon were almost…peaceful, having lost the tight, hunted expression that always lingered there when he was awake. Without the burdens that forever shackled his soul, it was the face of a man who might have been, if things had been different. The lines were gone, and the eyes closed, blocking the portals of ice and fire behind. In fact, Zelda's heart chilled at the realization, it was the face of a man who had graced her bedroom wall for years. The face of the Hero of Time from her tapestry.

She had already known this, it was true, from well-founded suspicions and the glowing triangle that was imprinted on Demon's hand, but never before had the similarity between Hero and Demon been more…blatant. Zelda had drawn comfort from that tapestry for the extent for the extent of her rule and had even felt protected by the eternal gaze of the Hero of Time watching over her. As a girl, she had sat on her bed and day-dreamed of the great adventures they would have together, travelling across the great land of Hyrule. When the princess had cried over the death of her mother, seen her life turned upside-down by the responsibilities of a Queen, the smiling face of the Hero of Time had been there to sweep her away in his strong arms and tell her everything would be all right.

Zelda almost laughed at the irony of that memory, Demon was no knight in shining armour to carry her away into a blazing sunset. He was a murderer, an assassin, for Goddesses sake he had almost killed her! And yet…

She sighed quietly, looking down at the sleeping figure before her. In the last few days, she had seen more than just the insanity of a broken man. Other things had surfaced, broken shards of a man who might once--once in a past so long forgotten it was only distant memory—been a hero. And it was that person that Zelda knew she had to find, because without him Hyrule, and the world itself stood no chance.

Mulling over the thought, she shifted unconsciously and Demon's eyes snapped open, displaying the merciless blue orbs of his gaze. At once, the pain returned to his features and Zelda saw the tapestry melt away before her as lines and knowledge return to them. And as the warrior turned to face her, the princess found herself looking into the ravaged, shadow-ridden eyes of Demon, the confident, smiling gaze of the Hero only a distant memory.

The day was spent buying supplies from the shops around the square, and pulling information about the plight of Castle Town from the reluctant mouths of the tavern patrons. All sorts of wild rumours had found their way into Kokariko Village, spread on the wings of citizens fleeing the doomed capital. Of course, only a few had escaped the destruction of the city, but they tales they were telling of the Aratian monsters and that dark night were enough to chill even the most ignorant drunkard to the bone. According to the rumours, the impregnable Hyrule castle had fallen almost immediately to the invading forces, despite having been warned nearly a half-day before. If that was true, than Zelda could almost believe in the legions of demonic creatures that the survivors described.

At first the princess had been incredulous, hearing of the ancient monsters that any intelligent person had long-since dismissed as myth. Suppossedly even Darknuts, undead knights armoured so heavily that no weapon could penetrated it, had been sighted during the short siege. But as she recounted her own experiences fighting the phantom ghoul in the Great Forest, she began to grudgingly believe the wild tales. The Prophecies had said that with the turning of the Cycle came the unleashing of every evil that had ever been named and some that hadn't, under the dominion of the Shadow-King himself…Ganondorf. That's what Demon had called him, a strange name, but even stranger that Demon had known it.

The rumours were confused and contradictory, some said Castle Town had been razed completely to the ground and the castle too, but others claimed the fortress was still standing and most of the city as well. There were even those who said the King of Aratia was building a new capital for himself in the ruins of the old one, but these Zelda dismissed immediately as too far-fetched to be true. The King would not bother himself to rebuild the city, he had wanted to destroy Hyrule, and now he had his wish. Why would he want to preserve it?

To Zelda's disappointment, she discovered that Gabriel was still in charge of the remaining Hylians inside the city. It did not surprise her, for her former love had been promised the continued monarchy of Hyrule by the Aratians, but the princess had still held a private hope that maybe he would have been deposed during the take-over. It was at this thought that she ground her teeth in frustration, drawing a startled look from the man she had been questioning.

But that was hardly the worst news Zelda and Demon received during the course of the day, for the unnaturally long blizzard had blocked the mountain pass, stopping all traffic into Termina. She had interrogated the local guide long and hard about it, but finally the princess had to agree that there would be no way across the mountains until the snows melted. And that was assuming that the storm ever would end, which, judging from the supernatural forces that had coincided with its beginning, was not as likely as Zelda could have hoped.

She and Demon ate three meals in The Warrior's common room that day, and each time it was Kashi himself who served them, a surprising honour considering his position as owner of the inn. Each time, Zelda tried to strike up a conversation with him, but his terse, one-word answers quickly returned them to silence. The bear-like man seemed more interested in staring hard at Demon than talking, and his blatant fascination disturbed Zelda. There was something he wasn't telling, a secret that she desperately wanted to know.

The inn-keeper often came into the room to converse with other patrons, and Zelda could hardly help but study him from the corner of her eye each time he did. With everyone else but Demon Kashi was a jovial, outspoken man, quick to laugh and quicker to roar. In face, the barrel-chested man was extremely intimidating, but he didn't seem to use his physical advantage for any more than just that. Often, the princess could hear him yelling at some hapless servant, but he never resorted to violence and forgiveness always seemed to come within minutes.

Of course, once Zelda managed to rid herself of Demon's glowering presence behind her, telling him to go stand beside the door instead, the locals became much more open. In fact, they were positively friendly, despite a remarkable tendency to cast nervous glances over their shoulders in the direction of the entrance. If the state of her country had not hinged on some of the questions she was asking, Zelda might have burst out laughing.

The one bright spot in the whole day came after the mid-day meal when Demon pulled her back into the room they shared and pressed a leather wallet into her hands, which jingled tantalizingly when she shook it. "If the mountain pass is blocked," he had rasped, "Then you will need adequate clothing for our stay in this village." Zelda had nodded gratefully, thanking the Goddesses for the gift. She had nothing to wear but the ragged Shiekan garb she was dressed in, and the revealing nature of the snug body-suit had drawn more than one disapproving glance, and, to the princess's disgust, several approving ones.

Which was how she found herself walking into one of the many shops which encircled the village square. As she entered, the princess tried to lay aside all her burdens and responsibilities at the door and decided to enjoy herself at all costs. Never before, in the royal castle of Hyrule, had she ever been responsible for obtaining her own clothes, and there was an attraction in the idea that called to her. Across the way, Demon too had wandered into a shop, an armoury, with a clear of the storefront Zelda had entered in case he was needed.

The store held many pretty dresses, and time and time again Zelda would catch herself looking at them, even though she knew they were entirely unsuitable for scrabbling through the mountains as she would eventually have to do. Of course, none of them were so fair as the one she had worn in Kokiri Village in the forest, but something told her she was saving that one for a special occasion. What the occasion was, she could not guess, but it was important, and Zelda did not wish to jeopardize her quest in any way.

It was more than an hour later when she finally walked out, staggering under the load of packages, to find Demon waiting for her. He said nothing, but immediately lifted the heavy parcels out of Zelda's hands, leaving her to carry the now severely deflated wallet. She protested, of course, but it only seemed to make the black-cloaked warrior angry, so she let it drop.

Back in their room, it was a different matter.

"There was no need for you to carry them all." Zelda glared, facing Demon as he rose from setting the packages down on her bed. "I am not so weak that I could not carry them out of the store!" The mental picture of herself staggering home under the load made her waver for a second, but she did not back down.

"You are a princess." Demon answered, speaking in his usual monotone. "Such tasks are not yours to bear."

Zelda's eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment she lost control. Stalking angrily up to her protecter until they were almost touching, she glared up into his face and stuck a finger between his eyes.

"If you ever say that again." She hissed, "I promise I'll have you beheaded."

For a brief instant, Demon's eyes widened and it seemed to the princess that he almost…smiled. But then it was gone and a deep sadness lingered in the depths of his gaze.

"Agreed princess." He whispered. "But I will not have you suffering when I can prevent it."

Abruptly, Zelda realized how close her tirade had brought her to him, and backed a way, a light blush glowing in her cheeks. Embarrassment coursed through her entire body, shaming her with the memory of her little temper tantrum. Thank the Goddessess Demon did not seem to notice.

"Besides," and this time the princess was sure he was struggling to prevent himself from smiling. "I would not want to be…beheaded."

Zelda colored still further. "I am sorry, my temper still escapes me occasionally. That was uncalled for."

"You are forgiven." Demon was staring at some distance spot beyond the walls which enclosed them. "I too, know the dangers of anger." He started, realizing the dangerous subject he had touched on, and said no more, turning to the fire-place to light it. The blizzard had seemed to almost let up for the day, with only a light snowfall to mark its presence, but the room was still too cold to go without a fire.

The princess sighed and walked over to the packages piled upon her bed. Almost, it seemed, she had convinced her troubled companion to open up, but now the opportunity was gone. It was a victory of sorts, she decided finally in an attempt to put a positive spin on the situation, as Zelda was sure that he had smiled. She had never seen him smile before.

The fact that it was her little temper tantrum that had caused him to smile, almost made the princess blush anew. The "alliance" between her and Demon was still delicate, having been created less than a week before, and already she had endangered it. With any of the politicians she had to deal with back in the castle before Gabriel's betrayal, such a slip could have made a life enemy, but Demon seemed to have ignored it. Once again, Zelda was forced to admit that the muscular warrior was like no man she had ever met, partially insane or not.

On a sudden whim, she pulled on package from among the rest and ripped it open, before walking over to sit beside Demon. He was still hunched over the mantle, his eyes cold and hard as he stared into the sprouting flames inside. As the princess settled down beside him, he neither turned to acknowledge her presence nor spoke, instead concentrating on his task.

Finally, Zelda decided to break the awkward silence.

"When I was in the store," she started, tentatively shifting the box in her hands, "I bought this for you." She opened the parcel and held it out to him, waiting for Demon to take it. He didn't.

It was a midnight-black dress shirt, lined with velvet and thick enough to provide some protection from the cold. Tiny obsidian buttons lined the collar, and a flare of gold embroidery traced it's way down the shoulders to the end of each sleeve. It was one of the most expensive items the store had carried. In fact, the shop's owner had told the princess that it had been given to her by a passing noble, a gift for something or other she could not remember.

There was a short pause, before Demon managed words. "No." He rasped, refusing to accept the box from the princess. Abruptly, he stood and walked silently out the door, the crash as he closed it behind him the only sound he made. A gust of wind slammed into the side of the inn like a parting knell behind him, announcing the exit of Demon, and with him the foolish hope Zelda had entertained.

As she pulled the garment from the box in front of her, the princess felt a single tear slide down her face and leave an even darker spot on the black shirt. The fire burned hot in the mantle beside her, but the room was growing colder by the minute as the blizzard returned to the village with vengeance, its shill scream drowning out even the sound of the solid oak door in the inn's entrance slamming shut as Demon made his way into the embracing cold.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Demon returned shortly after midnight, slipping back into the room so quietly that Zelda did not notice until he touched her lightly on the shoulder. Then she jumped and spun around so fast it took her reddened eyes a second to adjust, to focus on the ice-blue gaze of the warrior before her. Neither spoke for a moment, though the princess desperately wanted to, she could force nothing past the sudden lump in her throat.

Behind the rigid contours of his face, Demon's mind was in turmoil. He could see the faint lines left by tears upon Zelda's face, knew they had been caused by his departure, but years of rage and solitude froze him solid. Her liquid blue eyes looked up at him with a tentative hope, begging him to console her, but he couldn't. His princess was hurting and he didn't know how to respond.

The silence stretched longer, an eternity of doubt and anguish that was, indeed seemed certain to never end. Every muscle in Demon's body tensed, but this time he could not escape. He had to tell her why he could not protect her, could not be the chosen one she needed him to be.

"I am not the man you need, princess," he rasped, clenching his hands into gauntleted fists at his side. "I am not the man you want. I am not a hero." He raised an armoured fist and showed it too her, letting her study the telltale stains which marked it. "The blood of your people flows from my daggers, and there can be no forgiveness for that. Do not try to change what I am."

"It was a coat." Zelda whispered, a single, unruly knot of golden blonde hair falling across her left eye. "I thought that maybe," She paused, wondering why she had. "Because you only have to rags to wear and it's so cold-"

"I wear rags because I want to, princess," Demon snarled suddenly, anger sparking in his eyes. "Because that is all I deserve. Pretty clothes cannot hide me after what I have done. Nothing can."

Fear was apparent in Zelda's eyes for a moment, as she saw Demon fighting for control, but then determination replaced it. "But you do deserve more," she whispered, looking right back into his eyes. "You are no longer that murderer Demon. You can't hide behind that title any longer." There was no longer fear in her gaze, only pity for a tormented soul. "Deep down, you are a good man, I've seen it in you. That is why…my gift"

Demon hissed between his teeth, frustration knotting his features. "This is not about the shirt princess, it is beyond that. I should never have come here." He whirled away, fighting desperately for control, and then turned back just as quickly. "Can you hear them princess? They're always there…whispering in the background." He laughed at the princess's shocked expression. "Voices princess. And when they get to strong…" His eyes blazed red for a moment as he grinned menacingly. But only for a moment, before he slumped despairingly. "Can't you see? I am no hero, I'm not even sane."

"Then fight them!" Zelda pleaded, leaning forward slightly in her urge to convince him. "You are the Hero of Time, the Goddesses are never mistaken. This is your destiny! Don't abandon it." Her eyes glistened, as more liquid pooled in them. "Please don't leave."

Growling, Demon ripped off his gauntlets and hurled them across the room, where the embedded themselves quivering into the wood-panelled wall. "It would be for your sake, princess," he snarled, staring hard at the golden symbol on the back of his hand. But there was a note of indecision in his voice that had not been there before, and Zelda could tell he was weakening.

"I need you, Demon," she whispered. "Without you, I would have died several times already. It does not matter that you think yourself unworthy. You have been chosen, and the Goddesses do not pick those they don't believe in."

Demon's eyes widened slightly, the only change Zelda could detect on his unresponsive face. "They did not choose me for this. I was never supposed to have been a part of your quest. I know this, princess."

The princess almost smiled, seeing her companion's resolve slipping. But at the back of her mind something whispered a warning, there was something he was hiding from her, something buried deep. "But you were. How else could you have appeared when you did?"

"I tried to murder you, princess. That hardly counts." Demon hissed, never-the-less seeing the logic in her argument.

"But you didn't." This time Zelda did smile. "Instead you exposed Gabriel as a traitor and gave me the chance to escape. How can you say that was not destiny?"

The muscular warrior sighed, his hands dropping to his sides in defeat and the anger fading from his eyes. "I…cannot." He whispered, barely loud enough for the princess to hear him.

"Then you are here for a purpose." Zelda pressed, reaching out to gently touch him on the arm. This time he did not shy away. "And you are the Hero of Time."

Demon did not move for a moment, staring at the princess. Then he shrugged off the princess's hand and moved to the wall to retrieve his gauntlets. He was muttering under his breath, seeming not to hear himself as he slipped back into the armoured gloves.

"Two pieces given, two Destined

The Chosen, stalked by shadowkind.

One a princess, one to find.

Lost in darkness, darkness to bind."

He turned back to the princesses, and Zelda realized that he was saying it purposefully, speaking the rhyme as one might pronounce their own death sentence, but saying it nonetheless. It might have been a piece from the Prophecies, the slim royal wasn't sure, but the words sent chills down her spine.

And somewhere in the back of the black-cloaked warrior's mind, a voice resonated with what the princess had said, pulling back from the darkness beyond and restoring the first pieces of Demon's shattered soul. It was the voice of a young man, long dead, who had traveled out from the Great Forest long ago, in search of an adventure which would eventually decide the fate of the world. And it was the first steps towards healing what had once been broken beyond repair.

"There was… an oath." Demon began, taking long pauses between the words. "That I mentioned before. In the forest." He sighed, flexing his fingers in the retrieved gauntlets. "I will swear the same to you…if you wish it."

Zelda started at the abrupt switch. There was something she was missing here, something important. If the first oath had not been sworn to her, that what Princess of Destiny had received it? But this tentative offer of friendship was still too fragile for her to strain by asking questions.

Silently, she nodded, forcing herself to stand stiff and straight as he approached and kneeled before her. His cap hung down behind his bent form, tattered and rent in places, but more fitting on him than any lordling's silk. And as he looked up to meet her eyes, Zelda saw the faint revival of something she could have only classified as hope, had she put a name to it.

He swore in the old way, calling upon the names of the Goddesses and the Triforce to hold his oath. To have those cold eyes locked on hers, while hearing the formal words required of the vow, was an extremely disconcerting experience for Zelda, but she forced herself to keep calm. For some reason, Demon was placing his trust, indeed his very life into her hands, and it was a responsibility she could only try to be worthy of.

The next two days dragged along like honey oozing slowly from a jar, reluctantly passing by to be replaced by tomorrow. Rumors were gathered, rupees were spent, but Zelda could not shake the feeling that they were wasting time. That even as they sat at the rough-hewn tables of The Warrior, the Great Evil was watching, slowly weaving a trap from which there would be no escape. The princess even found herself glancing over her shoulders at times, expecting to see the minions of Ganondorf stalking her, like bloated spiders would the fly.

Nothing more was said between Demon and herself about that night, but it weighed heavily in both their minds. Despite mulling over it for hours, Zelda could still not decide what had changed his mind, if it was even her words that had done so. What she had said had been nothing she had not already told him, or even anything that had been dramatically rephrased for his benefit. It seemed that the muscular warrior had just needed someone to fit together the pieces, and show him the completed picture. But even then, Zelda was still not completely sure what had caused him to become so agitated in the first place; the gift of a coat could not have born such a reaction. He must have discovered some other meaning in it that even the princess herself could hardly fathom.

When she had woken, the package, along with its contents, had disappeared, and she could think of no way to question Demon about it without risking another argument like the one they'd had the night before. Some things were better left silent, and besides, it seemed the issue had already been resolved, so why bring it up again? Even the amazing events the night before could not make her push him about something that so obviously caused him pain; her nature would not allow it.

The oath had changed their relationship and Zelda knew it. She had thought the blue-eyed man protective before, now it seemed that he never left her side at all. He had acquired four throwing knives at the nearby armory and had belted the weapons at his wrists and calves to complement the pair of long daggers he already wore, and had taken to cleaning them whenever the princess tried to drag information from a particularly belligerent merchant. More often than not, the men and women had become most eager to volunteer everything they knew after a single glance at the naked blades.

The princess had felt herself slipping back into the rhythms of society, even telling jokes with some of the friendlier citizenry. Their were times when she even wished that maybe, just maybe, they could stay for a while, without having the constant danger of the Great Evil over their heads. But fate had other plans.

Snow was falling heavily outside the somber walls of The Warrior, creating phantom shapes with its transforming patterns. Already, the streets were well nigh impassable, and the continuing storm only threatened worse. It would be a long night for those caught out of doors, but inside the inn, life continued as normal.

The snows had cleared out most of the usual costumers, who did not fancy having to deal out the required rupees to stay the night. Instead, the bar was filled with the lowest echelons of Kokariko Village, men and women who had no shelter from which to ride out the fury of the blizzard and were seeking warmth inside the inn. It was a mark for Kashi, Zelda could only admit, that he had not kicked them out, despite the uproar they caused.

And indeed it was an uproar, beggars, thieves, and others even worse, were everywhere in the common room. Some were dancing on the tables, others leering at the serving maids, who had to be quick to avoid their hands, and still others singing the most ribald songs Zelda had ever heard. Overall, it was not a place for a young woman, and the princess was beginning to feel very uncomfortable, even scared. Several leering scoundrels had already tried to approach her, and she was sure it was only Demon's threatening stare, which had made them end their undesired advances.

The only reason she was still enduring their glances, indeed, the only reason she had not yet retreated to her room, was a chance of meeting with a man who claimed to have been in Castle Town when it fell. He had contacted her earlier in the day, saying that he had information about the Aratians, and had offered to meet her, for a price, of course. Nobody did anything for free these days.

Zelda did not mind, she sympathized with anybody who witnessed the destruction which had been the Aratian Siege and would gladly have given rupees to the man for nothing in return. The man, he claimed his name was Gaiden, had had his whole livelihood destroyed, nothing remained except ash, dust, and Aratian swords. If the princess could help the least bit as the former merchant struggled to regain a place in the world, then she would.

Which did not stop Zelda disliking him on sight, as the diminutive man approached the table and looked pitifully at Demon for permission to sit. Straggly black hair adorned a narrow skull, which seemed to taper forward into a nose that protruded far beyond what could even be grudgingly called handsome. And his eyes were little better, beady and fearful with a habit of looking away from the gaze of others.

With a slight motion of his head, Demon motioned him to approach, but the muscular warrior never took his eyes off the smaller man, and his gaze foreboded dark things for the merchant he was watching. _Obviously, _Zelda mused, _he doesn't like Gaiden either._ Of course, she didn't think she could name anybody Demon did like, even if she tried. The thought brought a grim smile to her lips, making the merchant wring his hands nervously.

"You are Ariana?" Gaiden asked, his ready voice permeated by a reedy note of apprehension. "The noblewoman who wishes to know about the tragedy of Castle-Town." He looked up at Zelda with beady eyes and a pallid cast to his face that suggested a lack of bathing.

Swallowing her revulsion, the princess smiled briefly at Gaiden, but the gesture did little to ease the man's blatant unease. He edged himself into the seat opposite Zelda, and ordered a malt beer from a nearby serving maid, never once letting his gaze drift near to her eyes. To the princess, he gave every impression of a man about to tell a lie, but she was desperate, and the man did claim to have been in Castle Town.

Zelda opened her mouth to speak, but Demon got there first. "What do you know of the siege?" he rasped, glaring at the fidgeting man. "Speak quickly."

"You said I would get forty rupees." The man whined, darting a glance up to meet Demon's eyes. "I want them first." His drink arrived and he began to sip it nervously.

"We will pay you after." The black-cloaked warrior hissed, crossing his arms above the table. "After we know your information is worth something."

Gaiden paled slightly as he noticed the reddish stains on Demon's gauntlets, but in matters of money at least, he showed some backbone. "Now." He persisted, his voice taking on a wheedling tone. "Or else how do I know you'll hold the bargain. There are plenty of vagabonds and rascals in Hyrule these days. Maybe you do not want what I have?" The words were vague, but by his tone, Zelda knew that he was about to leave, rupees or not. Grudgingly, she admitted that with a companion like Demon, she didn't really blame him for doubting her intentions.

Turning to the muscular warrior, Zelda put on a rather unconvincing smile and leaned over to whisper to him. "Go upstairs and wait for me." She mouthed, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "I'll come when I'm finished."

Demon growled, ready to argue. "It's not safe mistress!" he hissed. "I will not leave you to the mercy of these…" He gestured to the continuing chaos which still engulfed the rest of the common room.

"You will go upstairs." Zelda sighed, bitterly regretting having to remind him of his vow. "Remember your oath, Demon." She would get nothing from the man while the warrior was with her. It might be a risk to forego his protection for even a moment, but the rewards were worth it. If Gaiden had actually seen the King of Aratia as he had claimed in his note…

Demon's blue eyes flashed as he glared at the princess, but he rose stiffly to his feet and stalked from the common room. A path widened before him as he went, showing that at least some of the patrons were not as stupid as they appeared. Danger and betrayal were radiating from the black-cloaked warrior with every step, emanating like a dark cloud around him.

Just as he reached the stair, he turned and glanced back at the princess, but this time it was not a glare. Zelda thought she could actually detect fear in his gaze, not for himself, but for her. A faint stirring of unease ran down her spine as she wondered whether his unease was as well founded as he seemed to believe, but she quickly pushed it down. This was one of many hazards that had faced her so far, and there would be more to come if she was to reclaim her kingdom. She could not falter in any of them.

Turning back to Gaiden, she leaned forward across the table in an attempt to ignore a man gesturing for her attention from across the room. She slid two red rupees forward into his reach, where they quickly disappeared. "What do you know of the night Aratia attacked?" she asked, softening her tone so she would not frighten her timid informant.

Now that the man had got his rupees he seemed almost ready to run, but maybe the thought of Demon tracking him down kept him in his seat. "I do not remember much," he said. "There was fire everywhere and people fighting and I was just thinking of helping myself and my family escape." He sat upright, trying to look like a man who would have sacrificed his own life for his family. Zelda seriously doubted it.

"Just tell me what happened." Zelda soothed, "Where were you during the attack?"

"They put all of us townsfolk inside the castle, in the upper chambers. Mostly, you didn't know what was happening, but I was beside a window and I saw when-" Abruptly he cut off and pressed his lips together in a thin, white line, glancing to either side as if he believed the Aratians might be listening.

"They cannot reach you here." Zelda reassured him, her palms suddenly moist as she clasped her hands together. There was some dark fear inspired on that night, that even now held sway over the man before her, and she was loath to find out what it was. "The Aratians are still far away, and they cannot travel in a blizzard like this."

Gaiden paled, then leaned still closer to the princess, to the point where she could feel beer-tinged breath hitting her full in the face. "It weren't the Aratians who took the castle." He whispered. "They brought... others."

Zelda remembered the rumors of dark beasts and monsters and nodded her head slowly. She started to speak, but was cut off as Gaiden continued. He was trembling and there was a far-away look in his fearful eyes.

"They burned Castle-Town first, and then marched through the flames to the Castle. Millions and millions of them." He breathed, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Just swarming over the wall like it wasn't there. The wall-guard was swept away, and then they unlocked the gates so the others could get in."

"Where was King Gabriel during all this?" Zelda asked, trying to force her imagination off the horrible scene Gaiden was creating in her head. Her former love had probably been hiding in the castle lavatory, quivering in fear like the coward he was. The princess had to work hard to keep herself from scowling as she remembered the new monarch.

"The King?" Gaiden replied, puzzlement breaking through his dreamy look for a moment, as he considered the question. "I didn't see him at all. Maybe he was fighting alongside the guards." The man shrugged his soldiers and continued with his narration.

"It was like the whole army was cloaked in shadow, even with the light from the flames. The whole castle was in an uproar, the guards deserting their posts everywhere. And when the monsters entered the Castle they killed everyone they found." He broke off again and shuddered. "I still can't say how I escaped." Gaiden set his now empty mug down on the table, and seemed to shrink into the bench behind him. "That's all… I can remember."

"It's okay." Zelda soothed, "You have given me all I need. Thank-you." In face, the diminutive man had given her more questions than answers, but she could see that there would be no more from him. The experience had clearly unnerved Gaiden, and even days later he could still hardly talk about the event. It was starting to surprise her that he had even offered to tell his story in the first place, rupees aside.

Gaiden didn't stop shivering, but he did seem to calm some. "I'm sorry mistress." He said. "I just…can't."

The princess nodded understandingly, giving him another smile, this one more genuine than the last.

Tentatively, Gaiden tried to smile back, but his eyes, flashing nervously around the room, turned it into a grimace. Then he brightened. "I have a companion." He paused, fidgeting slightly. "He was in a room lower down than me and he says he heard King Gabriel and the Aratian King talking after they breached the wall. Says, they almost sounded friendly."

Zelda stiffened, gazing intently at the man before her. "What did he hear?" she asked, her voice deceptively quiet for the amount of interest she was displaying.

"He never told me." Gaiden whined. "Said he didn't want to remember it. But maybe," he cast a pointed glance at Zelda's rupee pouch. "You could convince him?"

"Ten more rupees if you lead me to him." The princess offered, half-rising from her seat, and grabbing the coat that had lain beside her during the entire meeting. "Just give me a moment to alert my…" she looked towards the stairs where Demon had vanished. "Companion."

"You're can't bring him." Gaiden squeaked, tensing as if to escape. "He'll murder me!"

"I won't let him." Zelda promised. "Please, he is my bodyguard."

"No." Gaiden shook his head firmly, "He looks to much like-." He lowered his voice, "Their King."

Zelda started, wondering what the man meant by that, but she could not waste time pondering it. Without Demon it would be extremely dangerous to venture into the streets, especially in the deep drifts which now blocked most of the streets. But if what Gaiden claimed his friend had heard was true, than she needed to talk to the man. Badly enough to leave Demon behind if the situation demanded it. Something in the back of her mind urged her to run back upstairs and find him, but she pushed it down. And followed Gaiden out of the inn.

It was like walking into a wall. The blasting snow bombarded them with ice-flecked pellets as Zelda staggered after Gaiden into the street. Winds howled and shrieked in the freezing night air with an intensity that reminded Zelda of wounded animals. Immediately, the princess regretted leaving the relative warmth of the inn, but she had little time for thought before her guide hurried off into the billowing white. Wrapping the think coat around her shoulders, the princes sped off after him, feeling a distinct feeling of unease even as she did so.

Hurrying to catch up, she passed both the Butcher's Yard and the local forge, before coming to a stop at the man's shoulder as he paused just in front of the entrance to the square. A massive drift had cut right through the narrow street, blocking it off completely. There was no way, Zelda knew, that she could ever make it over such an obstacle.

But Gaiden, it seemed, had already found another route. Beckoning with his hand he turned to the right and disappeared into a narrow alley. Squeezed between two ponderously-large shops, it almost appeared to be disappearing as the roof gutters leaned together two stories over-head, blocking almost all light from entering the alley. Tentatively Zelda followed him, in hindsight, bitterly regretting not bringing Demon along, despite Gaiden's threats. She was beginning to sense something hidden about the man's intentions, making her wary.

She sensed a trap, but the realization of the betrayal came all to late.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

As soon as she had entered the alley, an arm snaked itself around her neck, and she felt the sharp edge of a blade digging into her side. A course laugh echoed from behind her, audible even in the continuing blizzard and several men stepped forward from various shadows within the alley.

Gaiden wrung his hands in panic, his eyes latching desperately on Zelda's. "They made me! I swear!" he shreaked, "I didn't want to!" His babble was cut off as one of the men brutally back-handed him across the face, knocking him unconscious, and sending his limp body falling to crack hard on the sharp cobbles.

For the first time since facing the phantom, Zelda felt terrified. There was no one to help her here, outside in the worst blizzard of the last century. No one to hear her screams, or look out there windows and see her struggling. She was completely in the hands of her captors.

There were five men in all, rough brawlers, with the look of street-toughs. An assortment of weapons were scattered between them, knives, cudgels, and one rusting sword, but the men seemed to think they would not need them. And with a sinking feeling, Zelda knew they were right. One cracked his knuckles meaningfully, the storm preventing the sound from reaching the princess, but she understood the gesture all the same. Desperately, she began to struggle in the arms of her captor, but it was like throwing herself against a rock-wall. With relative ease, he dragged her over to a decrepit-looking door and shoved her inside.

The room was relatively large, but the scattered straw and chamberpot in the corner ensured it stank to high heaven. Zelda felt tears come to her eyes as she entered, as much from the stench as her fear, which only made the other men grin.

"Crying won't help you missy." one said, with a guttural laugh which sent chills down the princess's spine. She would have glared at him, but the man holding her chose that moment to throw her down into the straw. Zelda only had an instant to throw up her forearm in desperate panic before she hit the unforgiving stone with a loud crack, which cause her to cry out in pain. The man just laughed again.

Sitting up, Zelda directed the coolest stare she could muster at the one who held her, the one who seemed to be in charge. He was maybe a head taller than her, with a stained leather tunic and a greasy braid which disappeared out of her sight down his back. He was also, in Zelda's opinion, one of the ugliest men she had ever seen. "Let me go." She ordered. "You have no right."

"Well aren't you the brave one." The man smiled menacingly, "And pretty." He strode to the center of the room, maximizing his height advantage over the kneeling princess. "The names Drake, and these are my…associates." He gestured airily to the cut-throats behind him, eliciting coarse laughter. "So nice of you to join us."

The princess felt a jolt of fear shoot through her, but refused to let it show. "I have nothing of value, I am of no use to you. Please, let me go."

"Oh I think you do missy." The man replied, pointing to Zelda's waist where she hung her purse. "We've been watching you. And there's an awful lot of rupees in there for a simple merchant."

"I think you're a lady." One of the others said, his dark skin revealing him as one of the sea-going Lynaar. He caressed the last word in a way that sent shivers up and down Zelda's spine. She glared at him, her blue eyes flashing.

"It's unfortunate miss." The big man who had grabbed her sighed. "But someone seems to want you badly. There was a messenger come through a while back, said to be on the look-out for a young lady. Blue eyes," he pointed at her. "Blonde hair." He pointed again, grinning. And a tattoo, on the back of the left hand." Striding over to her, he grabbed Zelda by the wrist and yanked her to her feet, turning her hand palm down so the Triforce mark was visible to his companions.

"Well, look at that."

Still grinning, he ripped her purse off its loop and threw it behind him, causing a short, but brief squabble over its contents. Then he leaned down, forcing Zelda to flatten herself against the wall. "The King wants you princess." He whispered, causing his quarry to stiffen with shock. "You, my pretty little friend, are as good as-"

A crashing thump against the door cut him off, and he swung around to face the entrance. The rusted sword he bore, appeared in his hands and the grizzled leader raised it into a position of readiness, uttering a vile curse as he did so. "He found us. Don't let him reach the girl!"

A wild hope rose inside Zelda as she realized that someone had come to her rescue, but as the door shuddered once more in response to a powerful blow from the outside her elation began to subside. It was Demon who was out there, the princess was sure of it, about to come rushing into a trap where five men stood ready to steal his life. She did not want him to die, her soul shuddered with the thought, especially because of her foolishness.

Gesturing to two of his men, the bandit leader moved them to either side of the door, weapons ready to work their destruction as soon as Demon entered. Then he maneuvered himself in front of the princess, trusting no one else to guard his prize. From behind him, Zelda prayed. _Please Godesses,_ she whispered, _help him._

Drake turned and glared at her, his good humor gone. "Make one move missy." He growled. "And you'll be missing a head." He brandished his sword to back up the threat and Zelda retreated farther into the corner.

The door broke with a crash that deafened everyone in the small room, sending up a cloud of dust that temporarily blinded the bandits. A gust of wind from the blizzard outside followed it in, extinguishing the few meager torches which lit the room and plunging the chamber into semi-darkness. For the princess, it was a mercy, for she could barely see the massacre that followed.

The first two of Demon's throwing knives embedded themselves in the Lynaar's throat, sending his body into jerky convulsions which threw him against the back wall. The next two missed his friends head by a hair's breath, thudding into the wood behind him with muffled thumps. And then Demon was upon them.

The men guarding the door tried, but both their strokes missed as the black-cloaked warrior dove smoothly through the frame. A half-second to search, to find the princess's shape pressed into the corner, then he threw himself at the sword-bearing man in front of her. But his progress halted as the man who had almost fallen to his throwing knives moved to block him.

Demon feinted left, drawing the man's dual knives into a parry, then turned the strike inwards, slashing a deep gash, across the bandit's leather armor. A line of red, and then seeping blood marked it's passage, but it was not a fatal wound and the man knew it. He cam in low and hard with one of his weapons, brushing Demon's block aside with the other, but the black-clad warrior twisted aside to take a shallow slice across his bicep. It was the chance Demon needed.

Taking advantage of the bandit's vulnerable position, Demon closed the distance between them so the man was unable to bring his weapons to bear. Then, laying his dagers on either side of the man's neck, he scissored off his head. The ensuing gush of blood covered him in the sanguine liquid, but the muscular warrior didn't seem to notice. He tensed to lunge once again at the bandit leader guarding Zelda.

The princess, shrank farther into the corner, her eyes wide with disbelief as she watched the fighter's body sink lifelessly to the floor, spurting blood everywhere. Demon had lost control, she had seen the rage glowing in his eyes when he had entered the room, and now the shadows themselves seemed to throb with it. She had caused this, forced him to release his hold on the darkness within him. Silently, she cried out for the one who called himself Demon, sharing his pain as he committed terrible acts in the darkness.

But once again, before the black-cloaked figure could reach his princess, the weapons of others intervened. The two men guarding the door had finally overcome their shock, and Demon had to throw himself flat to avoid a ferocious cudgel which barely missed cracking his skull. First stroke foiled, both men attacked simultaneously, hunting revenge for the bloody death of their comrade.

Rolling to the side, the next blow missed Demon by inches, while the second was caught on the sharp edge of steel bracer, splintering the wood as it embedded itself on the metal. Twisting his arm Demon ripped the club from its owner and shoved it into the stomach of the other man, who was readying for a second swing. Doubling forward, the bandit gasped desperately for breath, but his attempt at living was shortened considerably, as a cursed dagger buried itself in his eye.

Bereft of his cudgel, the survivor ripped two knives from hidden sheaths and circled Demon warily as the assassin rose and ripped the cudgel from his bracer, throwing it across the room to thump against the far wall. For a second, the black-cloaked warrior stared at the man, as if confused by his unwillingness to attack. But Zelda, from her position in the corner, knew better. He was savoring this, every stroke, every death, every spurt of blood from the dying strongarm's headless shoulders as he lay inert upon the floor. The shadows which possessed her companion gloried in it.

As he flipped his one remaining dagger to his left hand, Demon flowed smoothly towards his opponent. Dodging behind the man's questing daggers, be blocked one reversed stab with the narrow edge of his weapons, and launched a round-house punch with a gauntleted fist that spun the man around. The bandit tried to twist out of Demon's reach and give himself time to recover from the blow, but he had underestimated his opponents speed. Grabbing a handful of the bandits hair, Demon ripped the man's head back, before slicing a gory line across the exposed throat.

Dying as he fell, the kidnapper made a soft, coughing noise as the air in his lungs exited through a new opening, but Demon hardly noticed as he whirled to face the leader of the group.

The man's sword dropped from nerveless hands, as his pale face looked with terror upon the scene before him. In mere seconds, this…Demon had slaughtered four of his comrades, with all the advantages in their hands. Some experienced sword-fighters claim they can know whether they can beat an opponent before the contest actually begins, whether they are out-matched beyond any hope of prevailing, and Drake knew this was one fight he could never win.

"I surrender." He whispered, the words floating pale and inconsequential around a chamber that only moments before had been filled with the sounds of desperate combat and the groans of the dying. Fleetingly, he hoped, as he saw Demon pause, a flicker passing across his features, but then, it vanished as he saw the man's eyes flash fire.

"You are dead." The black-cloaked warrior snarled, lunging forward with his daggers in a killing move that-

"No!" the scream rang out from the corner, where Zelda, horror apparent on her face, had finally found her voice.

And Demon did, the dagger stopping a hair's breadth from the man's jugular. The warrior of darkness, raging with the flames of insanity, turned and hissed angrily at Zelda.

"He hurt you princess! He must die!"

"No." Zelda said again, this time nearly whispering the word. "He did not. His name is Drake, he was only obeying orders."

"I don't care." Demon snarled, his weapon causing a trickle of blood to flow down the terrified man's neck. "Death calls him."

"There has been enough blood." Zelda pleaded, her blue eyes staring beseechingly up at the muscular warrior. "Please." She saw something change in the assassin as she did so, a faint light born in the shadows.

Demon sighed, lowering his blade ever so slightly as the anger flowed from him. "As you wish princess." He murmed, and lowered it completely.

Only Zelda saw the dagger appear from the bandit leader's cloak, only she saw it disappear into Demon's side as the man thrust with strength borne of desperation. And it was only the princess, he eyes locked upon those of her saviour, who saw the pain well up in those tortured blue seas, as a number of curious emotions flooded through them. Then the link was broken as the man ripped his dagger free, trailing blood and let Demon sink to the ground, liquid shadow in a world of twilight.

Her scream echoed through the night air into the blizzard outside, penetrating even through the layers of snow into the surrounding buildings, where families huddled together against the unearthly cry. The sound ripped from her throat in pure horror, fuelled by the sight of Demon's inert form staining the floor with his blood. _He's dead, _Zelda thought, _Demon's dead!_

Drake wiped his dagger casually on his grotesque leather jacket and turned his gaze to Zelda, dark eyes glittering. "My thanks princess," he hissed "For distracting him. I couldn't have done it without you."

There was a soft thump, and a dagger sprouted from the middle of his chest, red spreading outwards from the blade like some twisted flower blossoming in the vast barrows of the Dark Realm. Locking his eyes upon it, the man gasped once in surprise and dropped to the ground, his heart pumping out his life-blood. And Zelda, tearing her eyes from the morbid sight, turned to see the inn-keeper Kashi standing in the door-way with another knife already in his hands.

Unable for the moment to comprehend the situation, the princess crawled across the blood-stained floor to Demon's side and began trying to staunch the blood-flow from his wound. She did not realize she was crying until tears began to mix with the sanguine liquid before her, sliding down the filthy cloth of Demon's cloak and onto the wooden floor. Tiny beads of sorrow which dripped silently from her eyelids as she prayed for the warrior's life, beseeching the Goddesses and reaching for the power of the Triforce with equal desperation, but neither answered.

The wound was not mortal, she could tell that almost immediately as the flow of blood slowed, but it was deep, and in a part of the body where even a shallow wound could cause a slow and painful death. Without examining it, she could not tell if anything vital had been pierced, but it was all too easy to imagine the horrible damage the knife had done, puncturing organs and vitals as it made it's rending trip into Demon's side. Bending her head over the assassin's still form she sobbed anew, letting tears flow for a man whose death she would have once considered a blessing.

Behind her Kashi walked into the room and retrieved his dagger, along with the knives that Demon had left behind. The bear-like man scrutinized Zelda for a moment, studying her as if for the first time. "I saw you leave." He muttered, quickly stowing his dagger back into his clothing and offering the other weapons to Zelda. "And then that…man" he continued, gesturing to Demon's inert form beside her "Ran out after you as if the hounds of the Dark Realm itself were chasing him." He sent an unfriendly glance in the direction of the black-cloaked warrior. "I thought you might need help.

The princess took the bloodied knives unconsciously and slid them into the many sheaths on Demon's wrists, brushing a strand of dirty blonde hair from his face as she did so. "He was trying to protect me." She sobbed, looking up to meet the innkeeper's gaze.

Surprise flickered on Kashi's face as he studied the princess. "You truly care for him, don't you." He breathed, his voice barely audible over the muffled roar of the blizzard. "Do you know who he is?"

Zelda stiffened, realizing that indeed, she did care, more than she ever would have supposed, and now he was dying. Despite all the blood he had shed, and the darkness which shadowed his every moment, the princess had come to think of Demon as an honorable man, fighting an evil he could not escape. Zelda had taken comfort in the strength of his presence, even counted on his willpower when she herself was faltering, and now her foolishness had left him lying on a floor with a stab-wound in his side. "Yes." She whispered. "He is a hero."

It was Kashi's turn to stiffen in shock, unable to believe what he had heard. "That is the Demon!" he sputtered. "The most feared Gladiator in Aratian history! He has over three-hundred kills to his name!" The innkeeper turned away, his massive frame tense with disbelief. "Dangerous, yes. But he is no hero."

"Look around you!" Zelda cried, her sorrow turning to anger at the man's words' "Those men were trying to kidnap me, take me back to Gabriel in-" Abruptly she cut off, realizing she had said too much.

Kashi raised his eyebrows. "So I did hear right." He muttered, his bushy eyebrows furrowing together as he stared hard at Zelda. "So you are…" He knelt before her, uncaring of the gore-strewn floor. "Your highness." He whispered raw hope present in his voice as he bowed his head. "I am gladdened to learn you are still alive. It was a dark day for Hyrule when the guards said you had fallen." His eyes flashed dark as he glanced at Demon. "Killed by this…Demon."

"He didn't kill me." Zelda returned, "And I have long since forgiven him for trying. This man has saved my life three time in the past two weeks. He must live Kashi. He has too!" The intensity in her words made the in-keeper shift, and Zelda surprised herself with how much she meant them. _He is the Hero of Time_, she found herself thinking, _his death means the doom of us all_.

For a second Kashi stared at her silently, but then he rose to his feet and nodded slightly. "If you say he is honorable princess, than I believe you. And I will." His mouth twitched, "Try, to save him."

Abruptly, he rose to his feet and seemed to remember his circumstance. "We must return to the inn, in case there are more of these men around. Please follow me." Striding past her, the massive innkeeper picked up Demon's limp form with a grunt of effort and lifted it to his shoulder. "Let's go."


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

The trek back to the inn was far from easy, yet the princess kept mechanically trudging through the blizzard. Her whole attention was still focused on the memory of a knife plunging into Demon's side; his eyes widening in surprise as he felt the piercing steel, and the despair she had seen as the warrior realized that he could not stop the attacker from hurting his princess. For the first time, Zelda truly realized the depths of her companion's vow to her- a fanatical devotion that put everything, even his own life secondary.

Whenever danger had threatened her on their journey, he had been there to fight it, to protect Zelda from its harm. A constant, unchanging guardian that the princess could rely on at all times, as they plunged forth into the fires and terrors that encompassed them. Even before she had known he was there, Demon had been following her, defending his princess from ghouls and Aratian lords alike. And now the legendary figure which Zelda had once believed undefeatable was dripping blood into the white snow, wounded and helpless. Because of her.

She had been the one who had trusted Gaiden, even sent Demon away so the man would talk further. It was her foolishness which had given Drake and his men the opening to attack, as the princess tried to slip out from under Demon's protective guard, lured by the stories and promises of a greasy character whose words she should never have trusted. And with her works, she had taken an oath made to her in good faith, and shown it to be more worthless than the word of the Dark One itself.

The assassin had sworn to her, tying every fiber of his being to the princess for a reason that she had not yet discerned. But ignorance was no excuse for disregarding the vow Demon had made. Since infancy, Zelda had been taught that the greatest goal of royalty was to serve the people, but instead she had run out on the one who possibly needed her most, the Hero of Time.

And worst of all, it had been she, who by telling Demon to grant Drake mercy, had caused him to be stabbed. She had ordered him to spare the man, and though every fibre of his being had screamed against it, the assassin had obeyed her wish. An obedience that had could cost him his very life, because of an order given by the princess.

A hush fell over the common room of The Warrior as Kashi entered, carrying Demon's body upon his shoulder, but Zelda, following him, could feel the menace which permeated it. Conversations at many tables ceased entirely, while their occupants stared calculatingly at the unconscious warrior, before turning greedy eyes to the slim princess. Zelda forced herself to ignore their stares as she walked past and set foot to the staircase, but felt her cheeks heating with anger just the same. Obviously, Drake was not the only man who had listened to rumors about her wealth, or dreamed of possessing it for himself.

Ahead of her, the black-cloaked warrior muttered something and his eyelids flickered, causing Zelda to inhale sharply. It was all the warning Kashi needed, immediately raising his free hand to his shoulder to block Demon's futile lunge for his weapons. The assassin snarled weakly and tried to struggle, but the innkeeper's muscular arms held him firm.

"Don't hurt him!" Zelda cried, rushing forward to stand in front of the innkeeper, eyes wide with fear.

"It is…reflex." Kashi panted, straining to keep Demon under control. "He'll kill me if I let go."

The princess could see the visible liquid welling from the black-cloaked warrior's wound as his movements increased the blood-flow. Unless he calmed, there was no way Zelda could bind the gash in his side, and badly wounded as he was, the exertion would quickly sap his body's remaining resources. The princess could not let that happen.

Acting on instinct, Zelda stepped forward until she was only inches from the Demon's face, ignoring the rictus of a grimace to look into his hazy eyes. "Demon," she whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Can you hear me? You must not struggle Demon. Kashi won't hurt you." Embarrassed, she stepped away, knowing that Kashi must be laughing at her for talking to an unconscious man and expecting him to respond. Which meant she was just as shocked as the innkeeper when Demon abruptly went limp, allowing the bear-like man carrying him to open the door to their room.

Striding over to the beds, Kashi deposited the assassin onto one of them, not gently, but taking cares that the man did not grunt in pain as he settled down. Then he looked at Zelda, obviously awaiting instructions from the princess. "Bring bandages," she ordered, leaning over Demon to examine his wound anew. "And hot water." The princess was proud of how steady she made her voice, despite the roaring fear which engulfed her mind

Bowing once more, Kashi rushed to the door, but then stopped and turned back to the princess. "Do you wish me to bring a healer, highness?" he asked, frowning as he realized that Zelda intended to clean the wound herself.

"No," the princess replied, more harshly than she should have. It was too great a risk that a healer might take such a chance to slit Demon's throat for the crowd below, promised a share in the profit. "I will do this myself."

"As you wish, highness," the innkeeper grunted, clearly startled, before leaving the room. Thankfully, he closed the door behind him.

"Zelda…" the hoarse words whispered around the room, coming from behind the princess. She turned to see Demon try to sit up, only to grunt in pain and fall back to the bed. Overcome with joy just to hear his voice, she rushed to his side, but then the remembrance of the circumstances that had caused his wound filled her with mortification. The assassin must think she had betrayed him, that the seriousness of his oath meant nothing to her.

She tried to turn away from the bed again, unthinkingly trying to hide her shame, but before she could, Demon caught her hand in an almost painful grip, his armored gauntlets digging into her skin. Unable to break away, Zelda found herself caught the still slightly-groggy gaze of the assassin.

"I couldn't protect you, princess," he whispered, voice heart-heartbreakingly miserable. "I'm sorry." His eyes fluttered close again, this time from blood-loss as he fell back into the darkness.

Zelda staggered slightly in shock, unable to believe what Demon had said. He was fully prepared to take the blame for the entire evening, despite everything that the princess had done. In fact, he truly believed that his being wounded was his own fault, even after letting the man live because Zelda had begged him to. How could he not see that it had been her actions that had left him lying bleeding upon a bed? He must. And yet Demon was still prepared to blame himself, unwilling to burden the princess with it.

For a moment she was thankful, then her emotions changed to anger as the willowy girl realized how eager she was to rid herself of guilt. She would not let the assassin spare her the pain this time, however determined he was to believe Zelda had done nothing wrong. She, at least, could not live with that, knowing that her actions were being paid for by another.

But…

She was thankful, the princess admitted, for the sacrifice Demon had been prepared to make, had made, as he charged into a room hopelessly outnumbered to protect her. Her view of the man before her was changing, transforming away from the murderer who had first appeared in her dreams, and into something else. Slowly working her wrist out of Demon's continuing grip, she remembered her words to Kashi, defending the black-clad warrior against his accusations. _"He is a hero,"_ she heard herself say, and looking back, the princess knew that she had meant it. Beneath the shadows and pain, there was a hero in Demon's soul, waiting to be released. If only he would let it out.

Behind her, Zelda heard Kashi enter and turned quickly to accept his pail of water, still steaming, and a roll of bandage. The bear-like man seemed almost nervous as he watched her, still trying to comprehend the fact that the princess of Hyrule was alive. Then he turned and hurried from the room, retreating back into the inn he knew so well to give the princess time to tend to Demon.

The first step, Zelda decided, was to cut away the filthy strips of cloth that Demon wore, in order to bind the wound properly. Drawing one of his smaller knives from a wrist sheath, she carefully began to slice away the tattered rags which formed the assassin's many layers of attire. Grimly, the princess realized that maybe Demon would be getting a change of clothes sooner than he wished, and she wondered once again what he had done with the black coat she had given him. But then there was no room for idle thoughts, as Zelda found herself having to concentrate fully on Demon, or risking cutting him with the razor-sharp blade.

As a small mound of the twisted cloth strips began to build up beside the bed, Zelda noticed hints of green shining through the black. There was something else under the assassin's attire, a short-cut tunic of forest emerald, almost unrecognizable because of the numerous gashes and rips that marred the cloth. The princess gasped suddenly as she realized that she had seen it before, on the tapestry that had hung in her bedroom.

Once again, the transformation was unmistakable, dissolving the character of Demon into the legendary Hero of Time. It was as if Zelda was stripping away the layers of shadow and pain with the knife, revealing an entirely different man underneath. And without being able to see the rage-tortured eyes which had so haunted her dreams, the princess found herself unable to tell which one it was that lay before her, the Hero or the Demon.

The last strip fell away beneath her hands, and she grimaced in shock, appreciating the seriousness of the stab-wound in Demon's side. Blood had stained almost the entire left side of once-green tunic, and a clear, yellowish fluid was still seeping from the wound in considerable quantity. It brought Zelda's heart to her mouth to see the warrior hurt so grievously, but she forced herself to focus. Unless she bound the wound and stopped the bleeding, Demon would die, and she could not allow that. As much for the sake for the man she had come to know as the destiny he carried.

Zelda leaned close over the assassin's prostrate form as she carefully slit down the front of the green tunic, her golden hair falling downward across Demon's face. She bitterly regretted having to destroy such a powerful sign, but it was necessary to reach the wound. It did not stop her from placing the shirt almost reverently aside, profoundly saddened that Demon had believed it necessary to hide his identity from the world. What had happened to him, Zelda wondered for the millionth time as she stared downwards into Demon closed eyes, what dark secret was he hiding that had tortured him to the point of no return?

As she moved her gaze down the unconscious man's torso to his wound, Zelda found herself staring at the ravaged scars of a thousand battles, flowing contortedly over knotted muscle in twisted and grotesque patterns. Looking at them made her want to weep, to hold his face in her hands and sob for all the times he had felt cold, unkind steel pierce his body and been left to bind his own wounds in the darkness of some forgotten corner. _The pain,_ she thought, _Goddesses, how did he survive?_

Placing a finger lightly on one of the scars, she traced its winding course across the assassin's chest, her delicate skin rasping against the rough tissue. She could almost feel the agony of the long-healed wound, feel the muscle rip as it parted before a sword or dagger. Abruptly, Zelda realized what she was doing and blushed, forcing her mind back to the wound in Demon's side. She would not have the warrior wake up to find her running her hands across his chest, while a life-threatening injury lay untended.

The princess cleaned the wound as well as she could with the water, taking pains to be as gentle as possible as Demon twisted and muttered at her touch. Zelda found herself rejoicing as she examined the knife's entry path and realized that it had missed all the vital organs, some by less than a hair's breadth. The assassin would survive, barely, but he would recover. Which, the princess was sure, could not be said for the five cut-throats who had kidnapped her.

Bandaging the warrior raised its own complications as Zelda found herself having to rest her head on Demon's naked chest to wrap the strips of cloth around his torso. She wrinkled her nose slightly as the accumulated stink of weeks of neglect rose from his limp form, and she vowed that as soon as he was able she would force him to bathe and change his clothes, symbolic or not. For a moment she brightened at the thought of Demon's horrified refusal, but the seriousness of the situation sobered her immediately and she returned her attention to the bandages.

The door opened suddenly behind her and Zelda almost dropped the roll of white cloth entirely in her haste to put a respectable distance between herself and the assassin's reclined form. Her cheeks blushing pink, the princess turned to lock eyes with Kashi, both of his bushy eyebrows raised in disbelief. Then he shook himself and seemed to recover, offering the tray he was holding to Zelda.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, princess," the innkeeper grunted, his presence filling the door-way and oozing unease. "But I came to see how you were faring. Is he…?"

"Demon will live," Zelda responded to the unspoken question. "I'm almost finished bandaging the wound now." She paused, her face heating again. "That's what I was…doing."

Kashi's eyebrows rose again, but the power of Zelda's former position kept him from commenting. His eyes drifted to the tray which the princess now held. "I brought you some food, highness. I do not believe that you have eaten yet and it is getting late."

The princess waved her hand at him distractedly. "I'm not hungry." She started to turn back to Demon, but stopped as the bear-like man gave a low rumble.

"You need to eat, princess." The innkeeper urged. "To keep up your strength." He looked at Demon. "And I also brought him some broth, for the blood loss. He will need it when he awakes."

Zelda sighed, and acquiesced, accepting the tray gingerly and setting it upon a table near the bed. She was hungry, the princess realized, but the innkeeper's commands had left her a little disconcerted. It was not often that royalty were ordered around by their subjects. Shrugging the emotion from her mind, Zelda was about to uncover the platter before her, but then Kashi's presence caught the corner of her eye and she glanced at him.

The bear-like man seemed almost nervous, as if the shock of knowing the princess of Hyrule was still alive had hit him anew. "I am sorry I could not house you properly, princess," he growled, running his massive fingers through coarse, red hair. "My inn is not accustomed to such distinguished visitors. But-" he paused, shaking his formidable shoulders uncomfortably. "It is a great day for Hyrule to know that its princess is still alive."

Zelda felt torn for a second; behind her was a man who had taken a grievous wound on her behalf, and before her was a citizen of her beloved country, wanting assurance that Hyrule was not dead, as it seemed with the castle in Aratian hands. Her duty as a royal won out, but only because she knew that Demon, injured as he was, would have wanted it to.

"The Aratians will not hold Castle-Town forever," Zelda assured him. "Nor is Hyrule conquered, not while there are still those who are willing to fight."

Kashi looked hopeful for a second, but then his eyes darkened as he stared questioningly at the princess. "Forgive me for saying this, your highness, but it doesn't look like your staying around to fight. If I didn't know better, I would say you're heading across the border into Termina." He stiffened slightly, accusation written plainly on his face. "You're not abandoning us, are you princess?"

Zelda sighed. "I am going to Termina. But I am not abandoning Hyrule or those who are still loyal to it. I'm going to appeal to Prince Garret for aid in our war against the Aratians, it is the only way to save this country."

"I see." The innkeeper nodded slowly as he mulled over Zelda's explanation. Then he changed the subject abruptly, his gaze switching to Demon's prone form. "And where does he fit into this plan of yours?"

The princess read the doubt in his gaze, and had to push down sudden anger. "Demon is my bodyguard. He has sworn to serve me using the ancient vows of the Hylian knights, and I would trust him with my life."

Kashi remained silent for a moment, his posture somehow ominous as he stared at the assassin. "I hope your trust is not misplaced, highness."

Zelda bristled, her slim form rigid as she directed an icy stare in the innkeeper's direction. "It's not."

The bear-like man grunted, and turned back to the door. "I must go see to the rabble in my common room." He muttered over his shoulder. "But I will come up later to see if you need anything else." He paused, then continued. "I hope you will not mind if I assign a man to guard your door during the night, in case there are… others with the same mind as those who attacked you earlier."

The princess's face softened. "Thank-you," she called, but the door was already closed.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

It was nearly an hour later by the time Zelda finished bandaging Demon's wound and had wiped the last crumbs off her plate. She had not been hungry before, but the aroma of fresh-baked bread had awakened a ravening appetite within her and she mentally thanked Kashi as she covered the plate once more. The princess found herself liking the innkeeper despite his brusqueness, sensing that underneath the rough exterior lay a man whose loyalty could be trusted.

Behind her, she felt movements stir the bed and she turned to see Demon staring at her, his blue eyes haze-filled wells, focused groggily on the princess. He had been awake for some time already, but the blood-loss had left him muddled and weak. Except, of course, when Zelda had tried to force Kashi's broth down his throat. It had taken several threats and direct order from the princess to make him finish the liquid, and even then he had glared daggers at her until she apologized. Apparently, the innkeeper had been somewhat…liberal with the medicinal ingredients that formed the broth, but Zelda could hardly blame him.

At first, Demon had been harsh, almost angry, as he realized that he was naked from the waist up, but once Zelda had explained the reason for it he went silent. As a warrior, he understood the mechanics of dressing and bandaging wounds, and knew that his tight wrappings would only have hindered the princess. Only once more did he mention it, and that was to casually ask what Zelda had done with his green tunic. She told him, but didn't ask any questions as she didn't want to antagonize him further. It was an issue that both assassin and princess were happy to avoid.

Neither of them seemed at ease in the other's presence and the weight of silence began to way heavily on Zelda. The shame, forgotten in her rush to care for the assassin's injuries had come back full force with his awakening, and his cold stare did not help. _Does he blame me, _the princess wondered, _despite what he said?_ She wrenched her eyes from Demon's, anguish wracking her features as guilt filled her mind.

The warrior did not take the hint, but instead continued to gaze at the princess. He tried to sit up, but found himself unable to as the wound in his side spasmed in pain. The injury was not fatal, but it would keep him bed-ridden for days, and restricted movement to the barest minimum. Internally, Demon cursed himself again for letting the bandit leader catch him off-guard.

He had no memory of their return to the inn, or anything after until he had awoken to find the princess bending anxiously over him, but Zelda had related how Kashi had saved her from the last bandit and carried the assassin's unconscious form back to the inn. Anger had bloomed in him as he had studied the gratitude in her eyes, gratitude for a man who had been there for the princess when he himself could not, but the more rational side of his mind argued that without the innkeeper Zelda would have been killed. In fact, it was more luck than anything that she hadn't been.

Demon's hand brushed the bandages across his torso, wondering at the meticulous precision of the wrapping. He had not known that the princess possessed such talent in the arts of healing. His brows furrowed in puzzlement. Why hadn't she just used the Triforce?

"What has happened to your magic?" Demon rasped, gingerly sinking back into the bed.

Zelda stiffened, taken aback by the strange question. Then she slumped as the reasoning behind it occurred to her. "The Triforce no longer responds to me." She murmured. "Or else I would have healed you. I'm…sorry."

The assassin tried a tentative smile in reassurance, but it turned into a grimace as another twinge ran through him. "The wound is not life-threatening. I will recover."

The princess sighed. "It's still-"

"Not your fault." Demon hissed, teeth clenched against the pain. "The Holy Relics are fickle things. They have…minds of their own and do not always answer."

"But I should have told you." Zelda argued, her words coming out in a rush. "Where I was going. I should have warned you before I followed Gaiden out of the inn. It was my fault that you even had to fight those bandits in the first place, and my fault that Drake stabbed you." She paused, out of breath and Demon surveyed her pale face carefully.

"I swore an oath princess." He whispered, lifting his head so he could look straight at her. "To keep you safe. To protect you with steel, body and blood." He paused. "But I failed that oath the minute you were left defenseless against that bandit. My injury was caused by my own failure, not yours."

The intensity of his gaze left Zelda breathless as she saw the glowing conviction in his eyes. During her reign there had been hundreds of men who had pledged their allegiance to her, giving their lives into her service, but Demon's vow was something else altogether. She knew, without a doubt, that he would die for her, whether in defense of the people of Hyrule, or chasing a lying merchant into a cut-throat ambush. It was a sobering revelation.

"But.", Demon attempted another smile. "I would advise you against following any more strange men into alleys, especially ones like," He growled, "Gaiden."

The solemnity of the previous moment vanished and Zelda laughed aloud, reveling in her new-found freedom from the burdens of guilt. Demon didn't blame her for her mistakes, in fact, he had re-affirmed his oath. The choked lamps on the bed-side table seemed to brighten and the blizzard outside dropped to a muted howl as the princess's laughter rang through the room. Impulsively, she took the assassin's hand and squeezed it in a gesture of gratitude. "Thank-you," she whispered.

Demon looked down at his ungauntleted hand in Zelda's, shock and pain briefly spasmed through his face as his eyes hardened once more. "But that does not solve the issue of why you were attacked."

Confused, the princess pulled her hand away, rose tinting her cheeks as she did so. "Their leader's name was Drake. He said that he had been told to look for a young woman fitting my description." She paused. "He said the King had ordered it."

Demon's eyes narrowed. "Gabriel?" The question had a hard undertone.

Zelda nodded slightly, her golden hair swaying with the movement. "I think he knows I am trying to escape to Termina."

"No." Demon responded, his gaze sliding off the princess onto the far wall behind. "I think that finding you here was a surprise to the bandits. If Gabriel had known you were here, Princess," he continued as he traced the bandage at his side lightly, "He would have sent more than five men. My guess is that there are groups like that one in every border town in Hyrule."

The assassin paused and flames burned in his eyes for a second before disappearing. "Gabriel knows you are still alive, princess, and he fears you above all others. For you still have the power to unite Hyrule, and tear the throne from his grasp."

Zelda slumped. "But what power is that? Our army is in shambles, Castle-Town has been destroyed and my subjects believe I am dead. Two people here," she gestured to the town through the window, "Have commented on my resemblance to the 'late' princess." Her mouth twisted in a grimace. "Two, out of the dozens I have met and talked to."

Demon did not speak for a moment, studying the dejected princess before him. She had been on the run for so long, and the tension was taking its toll on her. "They will remember you, princess. When you come riding across the pass with the banners of Hyrule streaming, and the crown once more placed firmly upon your head. Gabriel's lies will not blind them forever."

"But what about now?" Zelda murmured, turning to stare at the wooden door across the room. "We are stuck here until the snows melts. And after my stupidity this night…" She bowed her head. "Gabriel could know we are in Kakoriko Village within days!"

"Forgive yourself, princess." Demon rumbled from his place on the bed. "Unless there are any more of those…scum," He growled angrily. "And they somehow know what transpired tonight, and," He paused for emphasis as he looked intently at the princess. "They somehow manage to survive the blizzard. Then Gabriel will know."

"But," his eyes flashed red as he grinned. "I do not think there were any survivors.

Zelda shuddered slightly, but then caught herself as she remembered what the kidnappers had been planning, her sympathy for the bandits instantly vanishing. Of course, she could not condone the way Demon had murdered them, but after what had happened when she had asked him to show Drake mercy, she couldn't really blame him either. _Gabriel,_ she seethed, studying the assassin's prostrate form,_ what did I ever see in him anyway?_

Looking up at the lamp, the princess started as she realized how much of the oil had already burned. The sky had darkened long before, and the time must have been later than she had thought. Stifling a sudden yawn, Zelda turned back to Demon and pulled her own cloak tighter about herself. "It's time for you to sleep." She ordered, unsure of whether the assassin would obey, but putting every shred of authority she could muster from her years as monarch into the command. "You have been wounded badly, and the rest will help you heal more quickly."

Surprisingly, Demon just nodded solemnly and began the nightly ritual of checking his weapons, only to pause in confusion. "What did you do with my knives?" he growled, turning to glare at the princess.

Annoyed at the anger in his voice, Zelda glared back and put her hands on her hips, the memories of her royalty not quite forgotten. "There, beside your bed with the rags you call clothing."

The assassin grunted warningly. "Why did you take them?" His cold stare lowered the temperature in the room tangibly as he tried to sit up in the bed, wincing as he did so.

The reminder of Demon's wound filled the princess with embarrassment, remembering too late the sacrifice the warrior had made for her. He wanted his weapons to protect her, and she was depriving him of them. The princess clasped her hands behind her, realizing her mistake.

"They were…in the way." She offered, avoiding his gaze. "I put them in the corner of the night-stand." The assassin tried to reach towards the piece of furniture, but paled visibly as his wound screamed in agony. "No!" Zelda rushed to his side, her cry a little louder than was necessary, but she didn't care. "You'll open it up again. Let me get them."

Demon nodded solemnly and let himself fall back to the encompassing bed under him. The relief in his face was evident as his muscles relaxed, despite his efforts to conceal it. "Thank you princess." He rasped. "It would be worth…much to me."

Zelda retrieved the weapons and offered them, a smile dancing slightly on the corner of her lips as she watched him carefully strap the sheaths into their correct positions. There was no possible way he could have rise from the bed, nonetheless defend her, but he was trying anyway. It would have been almost amusing, if she had not known in the back of her mind that his wound was on her conscience, whatever the warrior said.

Sighing, she entered the separate bathroom and prepared herself for the night. There would be a new day tomorrow, the princess thought, to hold the fate of Hyrule once more in her hands, and another the morning after, where the weight of destiny would hang again upon her shoulders. Eventually, the snows would melt and she could continue her quest into Termina, but until then…

Zelda looked behind, imagining the tense form of her assassin bodyguard in the room behind. He would be there, healing slowly in the weeks that would follow. No matter what happened she would be able to count on Demon to be there by her side. The weight lifted from her shoulders slightly, and she could almost feel the world brightening. The princess was not alone in her quest, she mused, remembering the dirty green tunic beneath his black wrappings, for she had found her Hero.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

The first of them arrived early in the next morning.

He trudged into the inn, ignoring the snow he dripped on the floor as he ambled slowly to a table and sat down. The man could have been any normal patron, preparing to meet his friends in the bar and drown himself in ale, but there seemed a tension about him that belied the relaxed appearance. And the glance he threw Zelda's way when she entered the common room was pure anger.

The princess had woken early and, after checking Demon's wound, had shared an impressive breakfast with the assassin, brought up by one of Kashi's serving maids. Then she had thanked and dismissed the guard at their door and gone downstairs to thank the inn-keeper again, for both the food and his loyalty. At least she would have, but then a second man entered, to join the first, and she scurried back up upstairs to the safety of her room. Something about the men scared her, and after almost being kidnapped the day before, she did not want any more trouble. The princess tried to remember if she had done anything to offend any of her associates during her stay in the village, but could think of nothing, and besides, she could not remember having seen either of the men before.

Some time later, when Zelda went down again, as much to see if the two men were gone as for any other purpose, three more had joined them, and all turned to blatantly stare at the princess as she walked past. Silence descended over the room, and the Zelda could feel the tangible threat like spider-silk against her skin. Entering the kitchen, she asked Kashi who they were and the tightness around his eyes frightened Zelda more than she would have cared to admit.

"They're men from the village." He answered, growling a little as he tightened his shoulders experimentally. "Trouble-makers. Somebody found the corpses of our bandit friends this morning, and blamed it on your…companion." He fingered a spot on his belt, and Zelda could almost make out the form of a knife-hilt under his shirt. "They won't try anything yet. But that may change if they have a big enough group." He paused. "Go back upstairs princess, and lock your door. Don't open it for anyone."

The princess nodded, but wavered slightly instead of heading immediately back to her chamber. "Take care of yourself, Kashi." She sighed, knowing instinctively that more of the men would come. "I don't want anybody else injured on my account."

Beyond the room, wind howled for a second as the door opened again and someone else walked into The Warrior. "Go, Princess." Kashi ordered. "Now."

Lifting her skirt slightly, Zelda hurried from the room and up the stairs to the second landing and her chamber, avoiding looking towards the men sitting at the table near the door. One called out something as she passed, eliciting a chorus of rough laughter from the others, but the princess ignored it. She would not sit to bandy insults with idiots, leaving Demon unprotected, no matter what they thought of her…

Face darkening, she forced herself to continue up the rough stairs.

As she slipped through the door into their room, Zelda locked the door and turned towards Demon's bed, where he lay stiffly on top of the bed-covers. As the princess had still not been able to coax out of him what he had done with the coat she had given him, his muscular chest was still bare and the scars rippled as he tried to sit up. "Something's happened," he rasped. "What is it, Princess?"

"Somebody found the bodies of Drake and his followers." She explained hurriedly as she finished bolting the door. Zelda berated herself mentally for not anticipating the problem, in a small town like Kakoriko, the discovery of five corpses would cause a massive panic. And after the way the villagers had reacted to Demon when he had first stepped into The Warrior…

"They've followed the trail back here, and now men are gathering in the common room. I've talked to Kashi and he says they won't try anything, but-"

"You don't believe him." The assassin finished solemnly, then his expression hardened. "As well you shouldn't. I do not trust him."

Zelda stiffened, wondering how Demon could be so ungrateful to someone who had saved his life, but then remembered Kashi's words as she had knelt over the warrior's unconscious form. The inn-keeper had known Demon's heritage, and had been perfectly willing to abandon him to his death. Maybe, she acquiesced, the assassin's distrust wasn't as unfounded as it had at first seemed.

"How many are there?" The black-clad warrior broke into her thoughts, leaning forward slightly as his hands tensed around leather-bound hilts.

Moving away from the door, Zelda walked over to her own bed and sat carefully down, straining to hear any sound from the floor below. "Eight when I left. And more are coming."

"Then they're here to kill me." The assassin stated flatly. "Or they would not have brought so many." His tone was calm as Demon spoke, but Zelda sensed a tinged of near…panic, she would call it. Wounded, the warrior stood no chance against so many, even untrained street-brawlers like the villagers.

The princess started as Demon growled and tried to lever himself to his feet and fell back to the blankets with a groan of pain. "Don't," she urged, rising and walking over to him. "You are in no condition to fight." Zelda paused for breath as the assassin tried to rise again and the princess held him down. "You'll kill yourself!"

"I have to try," Demon grunted, but Zelda could feel the flat despair in his tone. "What other choice is there?" A spot of red appeared on the bandage at his side, matching the hungry flames in his eyes. "I'll make them pay!" he snarled, "I'll kill them all!" His own panic at his helplessness fueling the anger, Zelda saw the shadows swirling inside him. In moments, they would take everything, and the princess could picture herself being thrown aside as the insane murderer who could not feel pain, indeed did not know pain, charged to his own destruction.

"No, Demon!" she hissed, her slender arms vibrating with the effort of keeping the warrior from rising. "Please!" Her blue eyes stared back into his own, appealing to the spark of blue which shone from with the roiling clouds. "I won't let them take you!"

The assassin hardly faltered as lines of fury contorted in his face. "Get out of my way, girl!" he roared, wrenching himself into a sitting position. Stumbling backward, the princess barely caught herself against the edge of the night-stand and winced in pain as the corner banged into her leg. By the time she had recovered Demon was already on his feet, chest heaving in exertion and the stained bandage steadily darkening.

Fires roared steadily in his gaze as he stared at Zelda, but there was no recognition behind those eyes. His face silently bared itself into a rictus of a snarl, then the sound of the door banging open made him whip around to face it. Tightly grouped faces in the doorway stared back, menace shining openly in their eyes as men began to flow silently into the small room. Only Demon's blatant menace stopped them from rushing him immediately, they had assumed that he had been injured beyond defense, but that would not quell them for long, and the assassin knew it.

Drawing the Baitos Kel from their sheaths at his side, he roared a war-challenge to the low-ceiling and dropped into a crouch, waiting for the first man to rush him. Blood dribbled down his side from the tortured wound, but Demon did not notice as all ability for rational thought was quickly waning. His mind was a shredded storm over which only the transcendent need to kill held any sway. Pumping, shuddering delicately, he could see the veins in his attackers necks, enlarged by the adrenaline rushing through their bodies, and could already feel his blades slicing through them, spilling crimson streams into the stale air.

The princess, stepping desperately in-between the warrior and his intended victims, gasped as she felt the keen edge of a blade pressing against the side of her head. Fear gripped her as she realized how far the darkness had taken him. Demon was teetering on the edge of the abyss that would take him once more into the fires and shadow of his soul, for even then, he no longer recognized his princess.

But Zelda refused to be intimidated. Ignoring the vigilantes surrounding them she forced herself to stand firm against the pressure of Demon's dagger, unable to allow him his insane vengeance on those who had come for him. The assassin would not survive the battle, no matter how many he killed, for the wound in his side would claim him even if his attackers did not. And with him would go the princess's last chance to save her country, the world, and the man who had sworn to follow her to any doom.

The blade drew a drop of blood as the pressure increased, and the rage in Demon's eyes darkened. "Move, Princess!" he hissed, the undertones of screaming chaos in his voice ripping at Zelda's soul, but the princess would not back down.

"You will have to kill me first!" Zelda whispered back, forcing herself to look for any sign of the man she knew in the eyes of this killer. The princess's disheveled blonde hair fell in waves down her back, but she looked every inch a royal as she strove to thwart the shadows grip on her warrior. Indeed, she realized in honest surprise, she was willing to die here, between Demon and his own destruction at the hands of the men behind her and the darkness within himself.

Slowly, the blazing red in the assassin's eyes faded, and he inched his gaze down the side of her pale neck until it dropped upon the scarlet bead edging his blade. Then the anger was gone completely, and only Demon's horror at what he had done remained. "Zelda," he whispered, and let his weapons fall with dull thuds to the floor.

It took the princess all the control she possessed, to stop herself flinging her arms around his despairing form, to prevent him from sinking into the black despair which she could see gathering on her features, but she managed to rip herself away and turn to face the men who had only so recently violated the privacy of her room. Rearranging her features in some semblance of harsh order, she took a step back-wards and placed a gentle hand on the assassins shoulders. Zelda left it there, even as she felt him shy away from her touch, but it was the only gesture of comfort she could give as she glared at the assembled troublemakers.

"We will talk outside." She ordered, putting every ounce of scorn and dignity she could muster into the four words. "Leave."

So great was the power she embodied in that moment, standing before them, that all eleven of the intruders shuffled uneasily. But she could not entirely dispel the anger that bonded them to their purpose, or the sheer confidence inspired by their numbers. Shaking off her words, they glared back at her, a self-proclaimed leader stepping forward to confront Zelda.

"Why should we?" he countered, grinning unpleasantly at the princess. "We've come to apprehend a murderer, and that's what we gonna do. Right boys?" His glance sought support in the others behind him, finding it in their gleaming eyes.

"No," Zelda seethed. "We will discuss whatever grievance you hold against my companion. But we will discuss it outside, like civilized people."

The man stepped forward menacingly. "I think not, little girl. Get out of the way."

From behind Zelda, Demon's growl rang out loud and clear as he struggled to rise, but this time the pain proved too much and he fell back. Without the rage that fueled him, his wound rendered the assassin helpless, but Zelda could only hope that he did not give in again. She had to win this battle alone, before it descended into fighting, but she could not think of any way that the situation could end peacefully, short of divine intervention itself. The men before her sensed blood, and their eagerness was tangible in the stuffy air of the small room. But maybe the Goddesses were with her, because even as she realized how hopeless her position had become, a new voice rang out behind her.

"I wouldn't do that, Jon," Kashi growled from the doorway, holding a loaded crossbow in hands that seemed to dwarf the weapon. "Though I can't say I'm surprised. Threatening helpless women always did seem to suite you."

The man before Zelda stiffened and turned to face the door-way. "Shut-up, innkeeper!" he snarled, clenching his hands into fists. "This man here murdered five law-abiding citizens last night, he's a murderer. We're just doing what any decent-minded man would do; justice." Behind him, his followers gave a muted roar of assent, though most of them still kept a wary eye on the cross-bow, just in case.

Kashi nodded, but kept his weapon firmly locked on Jon's chest. "Then you wouldn't mind doing what Mistress Ariana says." He gave a quick glance to Zelda. "And discussing this outside."

Jon looked like he was about to argue, but then his gaze slid down to the wickedly sharp tip of the loaded crossbow bolt. "Fine," he decided, after a short-pause. "But don't think we won't take what we've come for!" He glared hard at the black-cloaked assassin lying on the bed, but quickly dropped his gaze as Demon pain-drenched stare found him.

The men filed out of the room reluctantly, followed by Jon, but Zelda lingered by Demon's bed for a few more seconds, unwilling to leave him broken and alone. Placing a slim hand on his shoulder, she stared hard at him, willing the assassin to find himself in the dark sea of his despair.

"Stay here," she whispered. "I'll come back after I've dealt with Jon and his friends." It was a statement that sounded more brave than she felt, but Zelda tried to make it sound convincing for Demon's sake. But the assassin was hardly listening to her words, his full attention focused on the thin line of red which marred her throat. The princess sighed.

"It wasn't your fault, Demon." She urged, tightening her grip on his shoulder. "I know it wasn't you who held that blade."

The warrior's grimace was sick, a blending of the pain he felt and the guilt that plagued him. "But I couldn't stop it, could I? I…hurt you, Princess. I hurt…" He trailed off, staring helplessly at Zelda through haunted eyes. "I'm too dangerous, Princess. It's not safe to be near-"

But the princess cut him off, sensing the direction the conversation was going and fearing its conclusion. "Don't finish, Demon," she whispered, her posture hardening in defiance. "It's not true." Glancing quickly at the door, she saw Kashi jerk his head savagely towards the exit and she rose from the side of the warrior's bed. Almost, she walked through the door into the corridor, but something made her stop and turn, framed in the shadows beyond. "Don't leave me Demon." She pleaded, staring at the wounded assassin. "Please, remember you oath." She paused. "I…need you." Then she turned and left, taking on the mantle of his champion against the forces that opposed them.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Zelda folded her hands across her chest as she attempted to stare down the men across from her, coming close to succeeding. Behind her, Kashi held his cross-bow ready, menacing the group with its wicked quarrel, but the princess ignored him and concentrating on the task at hand. Focusing her eyes on Jon, she repeated her question.

"You already said there were no witnesses to these men's murder, so how can you know it was my companion who killed them? Or do you have other evidence that you have not yet revealed to me?"

Some of the men behind Jon shuffled their feet nervously, understanding the logic of Zelda's reasoning, but their spokesman refused to be deterred. "Drake and his friends all showed knife-wounds," he smirked, "And I do believe your…companion," He curled his lip. "Does favor the dagger. Also," he paused for dramatic effect, "There were many witnesses who saw him leave the inn after a man by the name of Gaiden."

Jon grinned, showing his teeth. "Who was also found this morning, outside Drake's quarters with his head bashed in. I think that is evidence enough."

Behind him, his companions rumbled assent and Kashi raised his cross-bow menacingly. Knowing she had to act before the scene became another fight, one that would result in Demon's death, she broke in. "So I am to believe that my companion killed several people last night? Without cause or reason? For I see no advantage to the deed."

Shrugging, Jon waved her question aside airily, knowing he held the advantage. "The motive is not important. The man you call Demon murdered six people in cold blood, and for that he must pay. Now." With that, he rose from the table and motioned to his followers, effectively concluding the negotiations, but Zelda would not let her only chance slip away.

"Do you know?" she hissed, "That Drake and his men were agents of the Aratians? And that my friend attacked because they tried to abduct-" She paused. "A defenseless woman?"

The men behind Jon started, their resolve wavering as they turned to stare at the princess. Zelda smiled triumphantly at them and continued. "No, you didn't. You just want your fun, and you are willing to sacrifice an innocent man because of it."

Jon whirled to face her, his face spitting fury. "He murdered them! It had to have been him! Do not try to confuse us with your lies, wench!" But behind him, the gazes of his followers were much less certain, and Zelda felt her hope grow once more as she ignored Jon entirely and turned to them.

"Demon killed those men to save me," she shouted, her eyes pleading with her audience. "After I followed Gaiden out into the blizzard like the fool I am." Inwardly she winced, feeling her guilt surface, but she pushed it back down. "Would you really execute a defenseless man for protecting a woman from cut-throats? Or does everyone in this town prey upon the weak and injured?" Zelda glared defiantly at them, daring a single man to move any farther towards the stairs.

"Hardly defenseless!" someone at the back of the group muttered, and the princess almost slumped in relief. The tone of the voice was no longer accusatory; instead, like the mood of the crowd it had suddenly become slightly…embarrassed. Except for Jon, the group seemed to be waking up to the stupidity of their vengeance. One by one, the shuffled slightly away from their leader in an attempt to distance themselves from him and his suspect "justice" as he seemed to call it.

Not missing a beat, Kashi leveled his cross-bow at Jon's chest. The big man's wolfish grin brought uncertainty to the villager's eyes for the first time, and he looked around to find victory quickly flying from his grasp. "Fine." He laughed. "Let the Demon live." He turned to his followers. "But don't blame me when other bodies start turning up. I've seen this type before, and it never stops with six. Killing's in their blood." His eyes flashed back to the princess. "Mark my words, Ariana. We will have justice." Then he was gone from The Warrior, as quickly as he'd come, his men filing out behind him. Although, it seemed to the princess, their flight was more from shame than anger.

She was still staring at the door, when Kasha finally lowered his cross-bow and mumbled something in relief, his voice growling from behind her. "Picked the wrong fight they did, the useless guttersnipes. Illegitimate sons of goats every one."

Zelda, started from her reverie, frowned at the language, but did not complain. Just because she had been brought up in a palace, didn't mean she hadn't thought the words at some time or another, and she found herself silently agreeing with him. They were stupid, those fools, to allow Jon to whip them into a frenzy against a man they had not even known. But it was something else that bothered the princess, and she turned to the inn-keeper.

"Drake must have had more than the five cut-throats we killed. Jon is one, I think, and they're may be more."

Kashi frowned. "We don't know that, Princess. Jon came here months ago and is known for being…hot-headed. And," Kashi looked solemnly at Zelda. "He was friends with one of the men who died last night."

The princess narrowed her eyes. "But what about Gaiden? Jon said his body was found this morning, and I do not believe Drake had him killed." She shuddered slightly as she remembered the sickening thud made by the merchant's form as Drake's men flung him to the cobblestones.

The inn-keeper shrugged slightly, already recovering from the show-down with Jon and his followers. "There are other men besides Drake who would not be averse to cutting a throat if the opportunity showed itself, and if Gaiden was carrying the rupees you gave him…" The bear-like man stared off through the small window into the whirling snow. "But maybe you are right, Princess. Maybe this was a gang-member's revenge on Demon for the death of his master."

Zelda's eyes widened and her thoughts turned with a rush to the wounded assassin lying somewhere above her. "Excuse me, Kashi." She murmured, dashing for the stairs. "I must go see to him." All of her thoughts focused upon Demon, she did not see the inn-keeper's knuckles whiten slightly as he gripped his crossbow, or the frown that crossed his features._She cares for him, _the voice whispered in his head, _Hyrule's beloved princess consorting with a Demon from the Dark Realm. The butcher of Aratia._

Demon's face was deathly pale when Zelda burst into their room, and he barely even raised his head to acknowledge her presence as she swept to his bedside. The pair of knives still lay on the floor where he had dropped them, along with the muddy boot-prints of Jon and his men. Nothing seemed to have stirred at all from when the princess had left, as if all life had been sucked from the room after her, leaving a frozen stillness behind it.

The princess raised a hand, as if to lay it upon Demon's tortured side, but drew it back tentatively, caught between the battling consequences of such an action. Tensing slightly, the assassin stared at the offending limb, but said nothing as it again slowly lowered to rest against the soiled bandage. Zelda winced as she felt the cooling residue of blood against her finger-tips, but forced herself to continue anyway, reaching out with what little healing skill she still possessed to gauge the extent of the new damage. But the continued gaze of Demon distracted her from her task, and she turned to look at him.

From inside the haze of his pain-ridden mind, the warrior stared uncomprehendingly at the princess, wondering whether he could trust the visions his eyes were sending him. He had heard of such things before, the ability of pain to sever the chains of reality and show the bearer things that did not exist. For even as she had told him otherwise, he had not truly believed that Zelda, even his Zelda, could have prevailed over the seething animosity of the mob-leader, or prevented him from satisfying his murderous intentions.

Demon had been helpless for the first time that he could remember, and the cold clutches of inevitability had clenched his soul in a crushing grip that could not be broken with all the lethal skill that he possessed. The unfailing steel that had marked his existence since his arrival at the arenas, had failed him, leaving the assassin unable to defend himself from Jon and his followers without lapsing once more into the darkness. And that, above all, he could not do.

"They're gone." Zelda's words broke through his thoughts. Her blue eyes furrowed slightly as she took in the paleness of her companion's face. "For now. Kashi and I managed to convince most of the men except Jon that you killed Drake's cut-throats in self-defense, but Jon himself still wants you dead."

Demon shifted slightly on top of his sheets, moving his wounded side a little farther from the princess's hand. "I am not afraid to die," he rasped. "If the Goddesses desire it. I just wish…"

Zelda's eyes smoldered, listening to the assassin's blatant acceptance of a course she would not allow him to take. "Listen to me!" she urged, clenching her free hand at her side. "We are going to survive this!" Her voice softened as she looked at Demon's pain-ravaged face in the late-morning twilight. "If we can just hold out till Spring, then we can take the mountain pass and be in Termina in a week. Maybe earlier if we're lucky."

"But the blizzard's not going to end." Demon whispered. "Is it?"

Defeated, Zelda slumped and the warrior realized his mistake, but his words could not be called back. He was tearing away the last remnants of hope she had, without giving her anything to replace it, ripping apart the final pieces of her shattered purpose. Inwardly, Demon cursed himself for the bluntness of his unthinking attack, for once again, he was depending upon the princess to support him as he thrashed frantically in the sea of his shadows, pushing her down to drown so he himself could live.

The princess remained silent, staring off into the snowfall outside their window as vague conclusions moved sluggishly through her mind. Absently, she drew her hand from Demon's wound and wiped the crimson residue upon her dress, marring the pale blue with streaks of red. To the warrior, she looked suddenly tired, and he noticed anew the thinness of her delicate features, the physical marks of their desperate flight from the Great Forest. The princess was strong, her spirit burned with an inner fire that shone brightly even among the muddied darkness of their time, but even so, Demon could see the overbearing pain and sorrow of the burdens placed upon her, could feel her bending under the heavy load, being crushed by the inexorable weight of a country and a destiny.

And suddenly, Demon knew he had to heal, had to continue living.

"We'll find a way, princess," the warrior of darkness whispered.

Stiffening in shock, Zelda turned to him, her blue eyes widening. Then she straightened and her stance became determined once more as she smiled sadly at the assassin. "I hope so." She murmured, then her gaze dropped to Demon's side and she started the delicate task of removing the blood-stained bandages and re-dressing his side.

The warrior winced slightly as fires spread from the injury up and down the length of his body, despite the gentleness of Zelda's touch. The rigors of his earlier posturing had cost him almost all the advantage of his day recuperating, and the more-recent blood-loss had dulled his mind once again. But he fought it down determinedly.

"How is…your neck?" he rasped, tentatively forcing out the issue which filled his mind.

For a moment, Zelda stopped her work and looked at Demon, seeing the pleading nature of the question in his eyes, and the tension which had just as suddenly tightened his body. "It stings a little." She smiled softly, "But it does not really hurt."

Demon nodded slightly, and seemed content to remain silent, but Zelda knew she could not drop the subject there. If only for the assassin's sake she had to continue. "I do not hold you at fault," she started, holding the warrior's flinching gaze in her own. "It wasn't you who held the knife, I know that."

"But I couldn't stop it either," the assassin growled, his ice-hard countenance writhing with disgust at his own inability to control his demons. "I could see the blood, and…" His voice dropped to whisper, and he looked away from Zelda's. "I wanted more. I wanted to keep on cutting until…" The warrior broke off and a broken shudder ran through his body.

"You didn't though." Zelda murmured, her blue eyes focused intently upon him. "And you never will. You've proven that time and time again."

"And yet," Demon hissed, as she slowly peeled away the last scrap of cloth from the ragged edge of his wound. "I still cut you, Princess. That is the fact of the matter. It cannot be denied, and if it can happen once, it can happen again." He closed his eyes, the subtle pain evident on his face. "I'm not strong enough, princess, to protect you."

"But you will be" Zelda retorted. "Each day, you part with your former life a little more. I see it in you." She started the arduous task of re-wrapping the wound. "You are winning the fight, Demon, if only you could see it."

The princess's eyes brightened suddenly as she remembered the green tunic she had cut away from his body after their battle with Drake, and she hurriedly pulled it from the lowest drawer of the dresser beside her, brandishing the piece of clothing in front of Demon's face.

"You are a hero." she said smugly, her triumphant smile flashing in the assassin's direction. "The only one in a thousand years with the strength and courage to banish shadow once again. Even from within yourself."

Demon stared silently at the tunic for a second, shocked surprise overcoming all other thoughts. He had known of course, that Zelda would have found the damning scrap of evidence in her task to clean his side, but had managed to repress the inevitable conclusion of such a discovery, even within his own mind. "She loved that shirt," he whispered. "Said it was her favorite color." Then he stiffened suddenly, realizing that once again, he had slipped."

The princess's eyes narrowed, even as she carefully folded the ragged garment and put it back in the cupboard, but the assassin shook his head. "There are some things you cannot know, Princess." The ice in his eyes hardened, but Zelda could see the welling pain underneath. "Please."

Zelda sighed, leaning her weight against the dresser at her side. "Someday, will you tell me?" Her blonde hair, undone, fell past her shoulders, and Demon could remember another young woman long ago, the same golden strands flying behind her as they raced their mounts across the wind-swept Hyrule Field. For a moment, the words forced themselves onto his tongue, placed there by the pleading blue eyes that had driven him into a thousand battles with monsters uncountable, but he shoved them back, knowing the unforgivable consequence.

"No princess." He grieved. "I cannot."


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

One month, then another, passed in a blur, and the blizzard continued to rage, throwing its endless wrath against the huddled town. Inside the hotel, the mundaneness of daily routines slowly overtook the inhabitants, encompassing their lives with its re-assuring certainty. Outside The Warrior's thick walls, chaos reigned in the frozen bite of the Dark Lord's storm, but it could not penetrate the inner sanctum which harbored the inn's guests and costumers, hoping for the day when warmth, once more, would creep back into the world.

Bound to the confining space of their room, given to them by Kashi as an honorary gift to the Princess Zelda, Demon recovered slowly. The wound was a grievous one, and though there was no doubt that he would survive, the question of time hung over the heads of the two Destined like the fate which bound them together. The waiting frightened them, weighing both assassin and princess down as they listened each day for Aratian footsteps to resound outside their door, the soldiers brought by Jon or another like him across the narrow miles of Hyrule Field. Every hour they stayed ended with the invading army more entrenched, more permanently ingrained into the contours of Castle Town. Indeed, if there was one thing they needed, in a life that begrudged them none, it was time.

Zelda spent the weeks planning, working out the proposal she would need to convince the Terminian nobility of her need, once she reached the neighboring country. She attacked the issue from all angles with the agility and critique of one born to play the intricate game of politics, formulating arguments for the various questions that would arise, and choosing the words with which to fight the verbal battles necessary in any matter of state. Her allies would grant her an army, the princess vowed grimly, even if she had to pull every string she could possibly wrap her hands around in the process. Garret would listen, or she would make him.

But only so much of the time spent waiting could be used to plan the future, and Zelda found herself spending more and more of her waking hours talking with Kashi, the inn's regulars as they broke the tedious storm-siege with drink, or even Demon as he clawed his way back to health in the dimness of their room. In fact, it was the time spent sitting at the foot of the assassin's bed, talking with him both to relieve her boredom and his, that the princess found to be the happiest of their stay. Demon was far from a great conversationalist, but Zelda found that he listened with an interest that she had never before encountered in another. Most of their encounters ended with the princess having done more than three-quarters of the talking as she poured out her worries and struggles, interspersed with stories of her childhood as she struggled to mourn for Impa and the others who were dead, but she always left feeling encouraged. Somehow, the assassin always seemed to have understood, despite his almost unbroken silence.

A few times, she even caught him smiling slightly, as she related stories of the many escapades she had pulled in her early youth, but such uncharacteristic expressions were few and far between. Slowly, as the time progressed, Zelda found herself relating the death of her parents, taken by sickness and war to the Sacred Gates, and was shocked to find the same pain that had engulfed her at their loss reflected in the ice-blue eyes of the Demon. Abruptly, she wondered if he had even known his parents, but the assassin refused to answer her question when she asked him, instead tensing like an animal in a trap. No matter how hard she tried, the princess could coax nothing of his past out of him, and eventually she gave up, content to tell stories of her own. And Demon, for his own part, was content to listen.

Troubled whispers stirred the village as winter stretched onward, pushing the other seasons aside as it gripped Hyrule in its thrall. Snow still covered the streets at a time when a year before, the first flowers had already bloomed on the craggy slopes of Death Mountain. It would end soon, the villagers told themselves, uneasily staring into the blizzard outside their windows, but the storm ignored their assurances and shrieked even more fiercely in roaring defiance of the natural patterns.

Around Kakoriko, prices rose as the first hints of shortage appeared. Meals at the inn became smaller, but the muted complaints were quickly silence by the fearful glares of others, unable to voice the unease which haunted their thoughts. The villagers were beginning to understand, realize the nature of the siege in which they existed as an island against the encroaching ice. It was them against the storm, with no relieving force to break the attack. For all they knew, the other Hylian settlements were in even worse straits than themselves.

The princess noticed these things, but she was helpless, unable to assist the villagers as their lives slowly unraveled into frosty threads. Hyrule, she knew, was losing itself into the anonymity of chaos as the government and authority fell apart all around the country. Partly the fault of the Aratians, and partly to blame on the prolonged blizzard, it was a situation that weighed heavily on Zelda's shoulders.

Neither Demon or the princess received any more trouble from Jon, or his followers, but neither Destined gained any security from that fact. They knew the man was somewhere close, whispering lies in ears willing to listen, and trying his best to stir the villagers into uniting against them. He took no direct action against the princess and her bodyguard, though Zelda took care to lock the windows each night, but the princess could sometimes sense his presence in the eyes of those she talked to. Fear swarmed in the eyes of those touched by the traitor. Demon guessed that it would not be long before Jon struck again, and he looked forward to it with a grim anticipation as his physical wounds healed. This time he would not be helpless.

Within the first month, the assassin was able to take short walks around the inn, although the effort left him almost exhausted. Sometimes even beyond exhausted, a fact that he kept carefully hidden from the anxious princess, who never left his side during each excursion. She acted like he might collapse at any given moment, a sentiment that Demon, after his history as the second-most feared man in Aratia behind the King himself, heartily resented.

And by the end of the second month, all that remained of the once life-threatening injury was another scar to add to countless others on his muscular torso. They fascinated the princess, Demon suspected, tangible reminders of his mysterious past, but she never asked about them. The assassin was grateful for Zelda's restraint, as the answers would have been to difficult, and would have required more truth than he was willing to give. He could give her nothing of his past, except the continuing assurance of his presence, his willingness to give his life to save hers.

The dreams still haunted him, throwing him back to the glorious days so many years before when darkness fled behind him and the future blazed in front, but the vicious pain which had so often accompanied the images had faded. It was still there, pulsing in the background, the dark crevice beneath his bed, but the princess had given him a weapon with which to fend it off. Zelda had given him back hope, if only a shade of what Demon had once experienced, a way to repel, though not vanquish entirely, the nightmares which held his soul.

The assassin could feel it within him, an alien warmth which slowly labored to retrieve the humanity he had though lost long ago. More than once he caught himself smiling at the princess as she related one of her more bizarre exploits, an expression of emotion which more than once Demon had though himself forever incapable of. _Weakness,_ his mind whispered in the dead of night as he listened to the princess's soft breathing from the other bed, _Have your forgotten so quickly, the blood that stains you?_

And listening to a roaring fury which could have been the blizzard, the assassin would close his eyes and see the faces one-by-one, death reflected by the dying light in their eyes as the whispering shadows screamed for vengeance. Revenge for a broken life, a broken soul and a shattered love, the likes of which he was incapable of ever feeling again. The inside of his eyelids became the dusty sand-floor of an Aratian arena, a stage upon which the sins of a monster were re-enacted and re-created in a stark reminder of what could never be forgiven. More often then not, Demon would rise in the morning not having slept once during the dark reaches of the night, and the princess would spend half the day trying to coax the tired pain from his ice-blue eyes.

In the end, it was Zelda, more than anything else, which convinced the assassin to continue fighting, despite his own unworthiness. He could hide, could run once more and abandon his corpse to the darkness which fought for control of it, but he could not leave the princess, everything within him rebelled at the thought of it. Somehow, the Goddesses and their endless games had give him a second chance, one so hauntingly familiar to the first it made him shiver, but a second just the same. Demon did not deserve it, but he had already failed the princess in one life, and sometime during the routine conversations in the privacy of their room, and the tension-ridden circuits of the inn under Zelda's supervision, he decided he would not fail her in this one. It was this decision which dragged him back to the armorer from which he had purchased his throwing knives, this time intent on a larger purpose.

There was one other man in the small shop when Demon entered, one the assassin recognized as a member of Jon's gang on the fateful day after Zelda's kidnapping. Taking one terrified glance at the warrior, the man had fled the premises with a speed that belied pure terror. Demon watched his passage with idle interest, he had no intention of hurting the man, but it would not hurt to let the man believe he did so. If the man had repented of his actions so be it, but if not, then Jon would soon know that the assassin was healed.

The small shop was sparsely decorated, with an air of anxiety brought on by an owner whose business depended upon a demand for farming implements, and times that called little for such tools. For despite an armorer's training, the man standing beside the entrance to the forge-room did little beside provide blacksmith services for the small town. Judging from the various weapons and implements of war hanging on the man's walls, Demon suspected it was a calling his heart chafed against

The assassin moved to the center of the room, to a counter loaded with metal utensils and trinkets, the kind bought by foolish young men to impress their comrades, and picked up a rough amulet in the shape of the Triforce. He inspected it critically and then dropped it back to the table with a dull ring before the voice of the shop's owner cut into his thoughts.

"How do you like the knives?" he asked, voice wry with dark amusement. Jon's spreading rumors had reached him long before, and though he ignored the petulant man on principle, he often had wondered at the menacing stranger whose purchased throwing knives had been his only profit of the week.

Demon turned his blank stare on the man before him, measuring the intent of his words before replying to them. "They are finely made," he slowly replied. "And accomplish their purpose well."

"And what purpose would that be?" The retort was lazy, as if the armorer was thinking of something else, but a dark current swirled under the phrase that implied danger to those observant enough to notice.

The assassin noticed, and ignored. "To kill." He panned, picking up the Triforce amulet again and turning it slowly in one gauntleted hand.

The shop-owner studied him for a moment, his dark eyes scrutinizing Demon with a look more appropriate for examining an exquisite weapon, or piece of armor.. Then he strode forward, extending an arm towards the warrior in a gesture of peace. The skin on his face and arms was noticeably darker then Demon's, even in the uncertain light of the twin lamps which lit the shop. "My name is Husam," he offered. "Well met."

Rubbing the metalwork lightly between two steel-clad fingers, the assassin ignored the out-stretched hand and concentrated on the man before him. Husam was tall, his wide shoulders tapering into a narrow torso that only emphasized his height. He would never be called skinny, his profession ensured a fair amount of bulk, but the man was thinner than any metal-worker Demon had ever met. It was also obvious that he was a foreigner, a refugee from some earlier war who had taken refuge in the obscurity of a Hylian Village. An outsider, like the assassin.

Husam's hair was thick and black, flowing to a point just below his shoulders, and it moved slightly as he returned his hand to his side, realizing Demon's refusal as what it was. He did not seem offended in the least and understanding flickered in his dark eyes as he did so. Some, he knew, harbored aversions to touch, he had seen it often among his own people.

"I am called…Demon." The warrior stated, and Husam's interest tightened as he noticed the flicker of disgust which ran through the man at his own name.

The armorer nodded slightly. "He did say that." Husam's dark eyes were unreadable in the dim light. "He also said that you were one of the dark spirits masquerading in human form, and able to steal bodies from the living and banish their souls to the Dark Realm for eternity." Pausing slightly, the armorer smiled wolfishly. "An unfortunate end, though for that man, I think most of the villagers would consider it a blessing."

Demon's eyes flickered. "I will…consider it."

Husam threw back his head and laughed, letting his long hair dangle behind him. Then he pounded his fists on the table and faced the assassin. "What do you need?" He asked. "If it's more knives," he gestured to the table. "I've got them. Something else, and I can probably make it in a couple days."

The black-cloaked warrior glanced upwards at the glistening implements of death which graced the walls, marveling at the obvious skill which had produced them. Assured that he had come to the right place, he pulled his gaze back to Husam. "I need two swords. One for myself, and one," he rasped. "For the noble-woman. She wishes to learn the blade." It was not exactly true, Zelda had no idea of his venture, having been left in the dependable care of Kashi, but he knew she would grasp on to the idea once he presented it too her. The princess's magic had proved itself untrustworthy, and the surety of a sword could perhaps be the difference between death and survival on the journey ahead

"It must be light." He continued. "But of strong make. Something fit for the hand of a lady."

Husam pressed his hands together, frowning slightly as he searched his memory. Then he smiled. "Ah yes, I think I have something. Please wait for a moment." He turned and hurried from the room, muttering something under his breath in a language Demon did not recognize.

The assassin waited, the moments passed, and the armorer did not appear, though the sounds issuing from the forge-room indicated a serious amount of activity. Metal clunked and thudded as some unwieldy object was drawn painfully across stone, a latch clicked from somewhere deep in the heart of the second chamber, and then a muffled curse told Demon the man had not found the object of his search. From even farther back, the momentary shriek of howling wind and the slamming of a wooden door marked Husam's flight back into the snow, presumably to search the small shed Demon had noticed behind his shop.

Resigning himself to a longer wait, Demon moved slowly to the one of the heavily decorated walls and cast an admiring eye over an elaborate battle-axe, its immense size requiring four spikes to support it. He had no doubt that he would have found the hulking weapon impossible to lift, even double-handed as it was meant to be held, and he idly wondered what giant had once wielded it. Or maybe it was just a show-piece, forged large to show the design and impress upon the viewer the lethal nature of its construction. Either option was plausible, but they did not change the formidable beauty hidden in the curving, blended realities of wood and metal before him.

It had even been sharpened recently, Demon noticed, running one gauntlet over the blade. A trait that was, he realized as he studied the other weapons, common enough among the impressive display. Swords, axes, and even a single lance, guarding the entrance to the forge-room, all shone with the sharp gleam of newly-ground steel. A virtual armory of battle-ready weapons in a town whose garrison harbored little more than twenty arms-men.

The warrior did not turn as he heard the forge-room door open and close once again, along with the scraping sound of boots. Instead, he continued to study the battle-axe. To a viewer from the doorway, only the voluminous black cloak which shielded him would be visible, the item of clothing a marked improvement on its forbearer, which had been mysteriously discarded during his recovery to health. Demon's brow furrowed as he remembered how the other ragged components of his apparel had disappeared, all, Zelda had claimed, without her knowledge.

"A memento." Husam stated, his voice carrying a faintly nostalgic air. "From my home-land." The man was standing in the door-way to the room, a long bundle clenched in one hand.

Demon's eyes slid to the worn leather grip of the shaft with a knowing precision. The axe had obviously seen many battles, and been repaired many times. "It-"

"Would accomplish its purpose efficiently?" The armorer's lips twisted in a wry smile. "Then you are right. It has been in my family for five generations." He began unwrapping the bundle, pulling away dark cloth from two swords, which he held up for Demon's inspection.

Walking slowly away from the wall, Demon gently pulled the first from the taller man's hands and unsheathed the steel blade with a practiced tug. At first, he almost believed it too slim for an actual sword, more resembling a rapier than the heavy blades used by Hylian armsmen, but the rigid strength of the slightly curved metal spoke differently. Here was a weapon, unlike a rapier, that would not shatter at a directly blow, even from an instrument much heavier than itself.

It was not beautiful, not in the way normally ascribed to possessions of royalty, but the assassin was somehow assured that Zelda would like it. The sword had a simple elegance that spoke of grace intermixed with reliability… and nothing else. There were no identifying characteristics to make it recognizable in the event of capture, but it was different just the same. Raising his head, Demon stared at Husam.

"Did you make this?"

The man nodded, his gaze fixed upon the blade. "It was my first work after coming to this town. I was commissioned by a councilor's daughter after she developed an interest in sword-play." He shrugged. "But the councilor did not approve, so I kept it. Since then, I have been waiting for another costumer."

Demon swung the sword through the air, savoring its smooth balance. "I think she…will find it acceptable," he finally uttered. "What about the other?"

Husam ripped the second blade from its leather sheath in a violent motion that made the assassin's hands clench on the weapon he held. The man's eyes burned with intensity as he whirled the sword in a twisting motion, before burying its tip into the floor-boards. "This is my latest work, and the best I have made so far. Of course, it is a useless gesture, for who is there to buy weapons of war in Kakoriko Village?" He smiled. "But then the Goddesses sent you."

The assassin stiffened as he remembered the so-called Destiny which dogged his steps, but his attention remained focused upon the sword, following the razor-edged steel from tip to guard. Uncalled for, memories surfaced of another blade, utterly alien, but not altogether so different to the one before him, but the warrior shoved them back down with a vengeance, along with the more painful reminders which came with them. He could not let the past distract him, too much depended on the future.

"I will take both of them." Demon decided, re-sheathing the weapon in his hands and handing it back to Husam. "What is the cost?"

The black-haired men pulled his blade from the floor-boards with a familiar wrench and sheathed it also, before accepting its companion from the assassin and wrapping them once more into the cloth. "I was to charge the daughter two-hundred rupees, and the other, I think, is worth twice as much. But," He proffered the long bundle to Demon, who accepted it with a puzzled frown. "It would not be right to charge a spirit for a mere sword." Then his smile faded, and his next words were spoken with a seriousness that had before been absent.

"I too, grieved when it was learned of Castle-Town's fall to the Aratians. They do not make merciful overlords. You are running from them, I do not know why, but I sense it is something important, else Drake would not have been in such a hurry to kill you." He paused. "If this is the way I can help you, a way to fight back against the usurpers who hold the capital, than I do it gladly. I will not…let my adopted land fall as easily as the land of my birth."

The assassin glanced once more at the massed weaponry on the wall, and his mind raged with questions, but he said nothing more as he nodded slightly, and turned to the door. In actuality, he was grateful for the reprieve, as the limited supply of rupees he carried would have been all but exhausted by the price Husam had named. Sweeping behind him as he turned, his black cape brushed softly against the floor, marking his exit as completely as the sound of the door opening before him.

Abruptly, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder at the armorer, his silhouette framed in the door-way. "One day," he rasped, "We'll rise again." Then he slipped through the door and shut it, the grinning face of Husam imprinted on his vision.

Cold bit at his features as he crunched his way through hard-packed snow towards the Warrior, but he barely noticed, too lost in the mysteries of the armorer and his gift. The mysteries of a foreigner who made instruments of war for a town that desired farming implements.

Why had he answered the man, Demon mused. Why had he encouraged his suspicions that "Lady Ariana" and her body-guard were more than they appeared? It was a mistake that was all too easy to avoid, so how had he slipped? In fact, the assassin was so engrossed that he was more than half-way to the hotel before a different realization drove all other thoughts from his mind. Then he started to run, sprinting his way through the snowy streets with blinding speed, trying to wrap some semblance of reality around the stark revelation.

The blizzard was over.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Demon sprinted around the final corner, thin powder spurting from under his heels as he glimpsed the Warrior's sign ahead of him. His single goal was to find the Princess and share with her the sudden hope that had sprung within him. The storm, the ever-present shriek that had permeated their existence since leaving the forest, had finally ended.

Stopping before the main door, the assassin paused to catch his breath, glorying in the alien light upon his face. The sun had deserted the world for so long, he could barely recall its touch upon his skin. Even the subdued murmur of the awakening village cried strange after the eternal howl of the blizzard.

Demon placed his hand on the latch, eager to reach Zelda and tell her of their sudden change of fortune. He wrestled the long bundle Husam had given him sideways to give himself room to _manoeuver._ A futile action, he realized a moment later as the door burst open and the princess herself flew through the opening, slamming them both to the snow. For a moment, the companions froze in shocked embarrassment. Summer sky met blue ice, two pairs of eyes wide and suddenly blank, the minds behind them struggling to interpret the situation. But only for a moment, before the princess clambered awkwardly to her feet, stammering an apology.

Demon took considerably longer to lever himself up, as he recovered slowly from the collision. All thoughts of the blizzard had been driven from his consciousness, along with the capacity for speech, by the sudden weight of Zelda in his arms as he had fallen to the padded street. It had been so unexpected that the warrior could have dismissed it altogether, except for the wrenching pain which squeezed his heart and told him the truth.

He had despaired, long before, of ever holding his princess again, of ever feeling her head against his shoulder, the golden hair tickling his nose as he held close the only woman he had ever loved. On the day the assassin had woken, once again a child in a land that had forgotten him, he had known that Zelda was gone, and with her the possibility of happiness, instead of a wandering half-existence in the shadows of the past. And it was on that day, he had relegated all his hopes for the future to the deepest confines of his memory, knowing that they could never be fulfilled.

She looked so similar in that moment to the Zelda he had once known that he stumbled. Tearing his gaze away from her eyes, he picked the wrapped weapons from the footprints beneath him and wiped trampled snow from both the bundle and himself. Zelda was still apologizing.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, blushing an even deeper red as she took in Demon's obvious discomfort. "When I looked out the window and realized I could see the sun…I've never been so excited. And then I started running as fast as I could to get outside and-"

Demon didn't answer, his inner turmoil still an impassable barrier against the words which threatened to rise. Instead he found himself frozen solid, in the melting dawn of a new spring, his gaze moving everywhere but towards the woman addressing him. The silence did little to comfort the princess.

"You're not…angry, are you?" Her blue eyes stared anxiously at him. From the corner of his vision Demon watched her, his mind noting small, idiotic details like the tiny chunks of ice tangled in her hair, and the bright red tips of her ears which peeked from between golden locks, pointed like those of all Hylians. Slowly, he turned to face Zelda.

"No," he faltered slowly, his voice rasping. "Not angry."

The princess smiled, her anxiety fading as excitement once more filled her features. She looked, to Demon, like a small child, flushed with the excitement of the celebration. Once again, Zelda's eyes flashed and sparkled as she grabbed the assassin's gauntleted hand in her own.

"The storm's over!" she announced, pulling him down the street. Demon barely had time to throw his bundle to a startled Kashi, appearing at the door in search of his charge, before he was swept away in her enthusiasm. "We're going to have a party!"

And they did, though Demon could hardly have believed it possible. House after house they visited, knocking on doors and gathering the people of Kakoriko Village in a mass behind them as they gradually roused the citizenry from their slumber. Some cried openly as they left the safety of their homes to find the shrieking winds gone and blue sky peeking around the shredded clouds. The siege had ended, and so the celebration began.

Tables were set out in the square, and covered with the few meager stores that could be spared. Before the terrible winter, such a pathetic spread would have caused dismay even among the simpler inhabitants of Kakoriko Village, but the strict rationing which had been necessitated by the blizzard transformed it into a feast beyond measure. Even the mayor and his council, pale men whose faces had been prematurely lined by the unnatural storm, commented on the elaborateness and scale of the banquet. A rickety stage had been set up on the fountain's edge, and the politicians were taking full advantage of the situation.

Some, indeed, listened to them, but Demon's grim smile noted that most of the villagers were still gathered around the princess as she rattled off commands. Chairs were brought, and games were set up for the young children as the princess orchestrated the beginnings of a party that would never be forgotten by those involved. But the assassin had little attention for the townspeople; his full attention was upon Zelda and the glowing happiness which had surrounded her ever since the first ray of sunlight had touched her. For today, her problems were forgotten, and she was once more infusing her people with hope as the "Lady Ariana," visiting noble from a distant province.

Strategically, Demon reminded himself, the situation was a nightmare, a perfect opportunity for an ambush. Jon was still out there. Demon had glimpsed him once or twice lurking among the villagers, and though the man's primary objective might be revenge on the black-cloaked warrior, his immediate mission was to kidnap the princess on commission of the Aratians. Had it been up to the assassin, he would have left the party with Zelda in tow long before, but Demon could not find it in himself to quench the sparkle in the blonde girl's eyes by confining her to their room once more. She needed to be here, giving herself to her people, and so he contented himself with being her shadow.

The snow was quickly shoveled from the central square into a heaping mound outside the gate, revealing bare cobblestones beneath. Rushing wildly around the square, young children shouted and laughed with the pent-up energy of months of confinement, their voices barely heard above the clamor of their elders as friends and families rejoiced together. A tent, slightly mildewed from its prolonged stay in someone's leaky shed, had been erected over the food tables in mangy defiance against the few, reluctant clouds overhead.

It was late afternoon before the preparations were completed and the party began in earnest, but time seemed of little importance to the villagers. Slowly, the groups gathered around the square made their wandering path back towards the center, the stage, and the food; awaiting the beginning of the entertainment for the evening. Hastily assembled, and even more haphazardly executed, the performances on the stage were inexplicably excellent, impressing the crowd with feats of skill and prowess. All the performers were neighbors or friends who had turned to strange pursuits over the winter months to alleviate boredom, but their eccentricities were forgiven as the crowd roared with laughter at their exploits.

The town butcher had become a juggler, and his self-taught tricks astonished with their complexity as he whirled balls, pins and even flaming-torches in spinning circles above his head. His trade having been reduced to almost a stand-still in the last month or so of the blizzard, the man had spent almost all his time practicing the somewhat peculiar hobby in the privacy of his shop. It was a wonder, some whispered later, as an errant torch caused a frenzy of screaming and stamping, that he hadn't burned the building down.

Next in line was a self-proclaimed poet whose work, mostly involving flowery descriptions of snow, was met with a barrage of cat-calls and insults. To his credit, the small, frail-looking man struggled through the majority of the attacks, before snowballs forced him to leave the stage in a huff. The figure who replaced him was carrying a massive battle-axe, and Demon's eyes narrowed in interest as he recognized the armorer, Husam.

He was clad in a simple robe, over which was buckled the most bizarre assortment of armor the assassin had ever seen. Each piece glittered a dull red in the fading light, not of blood, but of something lighter and more exotic, inlaid with complicated patterns of ductile copper. The odd contours and joints, hinged connections among the metal, lent themselves to no style or form he recognized, but they fit somehow with the silky grace of Humas's movements as he took the center of the stage and turned to face the audience. In fact, as the man whirled his formidable axe in front of him, Demon realized that it was of the same make as the armor, complementing the strange battledress which was so obviously foreign and yet dangerously lethal.

Up he brought the axe, twirling it easily through his fingers despite the weight, and then across in a one-armed salute to the sky. His feet shifted slowly as he spun the weapon behind his back and swayed away to counterbalance the force, before bringing it back around. Spinning, flashing, always moving, Humas proceeded to complete a training routine so complicated it impressed even Demon as he sat behind the princess among the audience. _Goddesses help the man,_ the warrior thought ruefully, _who stands before that axe._

Off to the side, Kashi and his ale-stand, hastily erected beside the stage, were selling drinks as fast as they could be poured. The amber liquid frothed and sloshed in dozens of mugs, the men of Kakoriko finally having a reason to really celebrate, and taking full advantage of the opportunity. Hardly able to keep up, the innkeeper wore a jovial smile as he slid coins over the counter and handed out fresh tankards, unable but to be affected by the holiday spirit which was sweeping its way through the crowd.

Abruptly, Kashi raised his head and caught Demon's eyes, the silent link conveying warning. Having captured the assassin's attention, the innkeeper turned Demon's gaze into the crowd, and a small knot of men standing in the darkness of an alley. Partially obscured by the rest of the villagers, and hidden by the over-bearing shadows of the surrounding buildings, the figures were hardly more than a foreboding mass at the edge of a whirling tapestry of light and movement, and yet the assassin's senses tingled as he studied them. For a moment Kashi's warning seemed laughable, it was one of many such groups, but then one stepped forward from the surrounding shadow, his gangly shape and features easily discerned as Jon.

"It's time to leave, Princess," Demon whispered, hands tightening as he readied a throwing dagger in one hand and grabbed Zelda's arm the other. She turned in confusion, about to disagree, but her eyes widened at the urgency written on Demon's face and her response changed.

"Why?"

The assassin nodded behind him and then carefully pulled the Princess to her feet. "Jon's here," he muttered, glancing about them. "And this place isn't defensible." Pushing forward into the crowd, the assassin forced room for Zelda and himself as they traveled a winding path towards Kashi's cart.

The urge to tear his way free of the suffocating masses with the blade of his weapon grew steadily as Demon's anxiety heightened. Anyone around them could be an enemy, biding his time until the golden-haired princess ventured within striking distance. Logically, Demon knew he could in no way possibly prevent the action if it did indeed occur, but the bitter helplessness only added to his rage. "Get out of my way!" he snarled at one helpless party-goer, then, growling at another, he shoved past. It had been a mistake, he thrashed himself mentally, to attend the party, but the vision of Zelda's radiant face only moments before haunted his vision never-the-less.

Finally, the last inebriated body found itself flung almost bodily aside and Demon's red-tinged eyes met Kashi's. The bear-like man pulled them quickly behind the make-shift stand, and forced both princess and assassin to the ground. Stale beer and ale assailed their senses as the inn-keeper summarized the situation in the interment moments of filling new mugs in the incessant shuffle of costumers and money.

"They're searching the crowd. Don't know you here yet, but I reckon they soon will. It's a fairly obvious spot considering you're staying at the Warrior." The sound of alcohol gurgling from spout to mug mixed with the roar of the crowd forced both princess and assassin to lean in close.

Demon cursed vilely, his anger not quite abated. "Why now?" he whispered. "Jon's had all winter!" But Kashi had already ducked upward, handing the newly-filled beverage over the counter and reaching for an empty one.

His head reappeared, and the amber liquid ran forth once more in memory of much before it, and anticipation of much more to come. "We can't defeat him in this crowd, not with the number he has. You two wait here, I…" He tried to smile re-assuringly, but was betrayed by the lines of tightness which bordered his eyes. "I will lead them off. Meet me outside the back door of my inn whenever you can escape with them seeing you."

Without pausing to explain, Kashi straightened to face the crowd, his massive voice booming out amidst the revelry like the roar of thunder across Hyrule Field. The performance upon the stage and the larger portion of the assembly remained ignorant of his address, but those immediately beyond the stall, the majority of which already clasped in grubby hands a portion of his trade, they fell silent as the bear-like man pounded his fist upon the table.

"I'm out of beer!" he blasted, eliciting a concerted groan from the crowd. From their respective positions, Zelda and Demon winced at the concerted assault of Kashi's voice and the booming impact of his fist inches above their heads.

It was the wrong statement to make in the circumstances, and, the assassin discovered as he inspected the casks, a blatant lie. He smiled grimly just the same, as the princess's frightened eyes found his.

"But!" Kashi roared, quieting the angry mutterings. "There's plenty more back at my inn." He raised his arms dramatically "Anyone. Anyone! Who helps me lug it back here gets free drinks for the rest of the night!"

The statement so incited the men crowding the table that most set off immediately for the Warrior, the lure of free drink driving all sense from their minds. Nobody, in their already drunken state, stopped to question the sudden generosity of the inn-keeper, to finish the contents of mugs before discarding them, or even free the few sober casualties among their number who had become entrapped in the scramble. With a few words, Kashi had transformed them into a mob, and Goddess's help the man who got in the way, or tried to prevent them from breaking through the web Jon had so hastily constructed to prevent Zelda's escape.

Wives and abstainers watched in disapproval as the mob, bearing Kashi ungainly aloft, flowed quickly from the square. It was generally frowned upon to drown oneself in drink, and more than one hung-over party-goer would be receiving a scathing lecture when the virgin sun rose once again, but no move was made to confront the mob. After all, it was a celebration.

To Jon, Kashi's actions seemed a desperate, if clumsy attempt to remove the Princess and her body-guard from the square, and Demon nodded in satisfaction as he watched the small knot of men break forth from the crowd and surge after the departed drunkards. Partially hidden by the stage, and still mostly concealed by the beer-stand, the assassin risked his observations a little longer, before withdrawing his head. Red-tinged eyes glowed softly in the darkness as he studied Zelda, her fear slowly receding into anger at the interruption which had taken them from honored guest to fugitive in a matter of minutes. She had initiated the party, brought the townsfolk together on her own will-power, and then had the opportunity to witness the return of happiness to her people snatched away.

"Are they gone?" she asked, the shadows emphasizing the tension which stretched across her delicate features. "Almost." Demon's half-truth rang hollow even to him, and Zelda's response showed her disbelief. In actuality, the assassin didn't know whether the shadows which guarded each entrance had indeed retreated, but it mattered little with the main segment of Jon's followers already gone. Unconsciously, his hands tightened upon knife-handles.

The princess shifted slightly, a malformed plank digging into her back as she hunched lower underneath the stall. The position beneath the counter was cramped, permeated by the reek of ale and neglect, and awash in the melting remnants of snow, but neither Destined could do any more than shiver. To leave the stall too early could betray them to one of Jon's sentinels, and both Demon and Zelda preferred to keep the element of stealth for as long as possible. It would only take a couple men, by chance or design, to see the assassin rushing from the square, and the chase would be on once more. Secrecy would be abandoned, the advantage lost, the companions racing onwards from the village with Jon and his followers snapping at their heels.

Combat was not out of the question, but Demon's commitment to the princess prevented him from seriously considering the option. He could not expose Zelda to harm, especially with her magic as untrustworthy as it had proven itself. Besides, something seemed wrong in the sudden, desperate nature of Jon's attack, some important fact beyond the assassin's knowledgeHow had the man overcome his discredit at Zelda's hands to gain so many followers, Demon wondered, and then chosen to fight only after the warrior had fully recovered from his earlier wounds?

The stall shook with a muffled thump, and steel appeared in the assassin's hand, his musings shoved aside as something fell heavily to the ground. Zelda tensed, and Demon clamped a muffling gauntlet across her mouth, arousing pure indignation in the princess's eyes. But the incident was almost forgotten as a hand pushed its way around the corner of the counter and clumsily groped at the nearest ale-cask.

The appendage was quickly followed by the head of a small, rather drunk man, who squinted blearily into the darkness at the two fugitives.

"Who!"

Demon's lightening-quick blow flipped the man almost completely over, and embedded his face deep into the melting slush piled high against the stage. The princess winced slightly at the harsh violence, but the perpetrator was unfazed. In fact, he was already inspecting the unconscious man's thick cloak. Stained and soaked, it was not exactly Zelda's idea of comfort, and she grimaced slightly as Demon turned back to her, his plan obvious.

"We must leave," he whispered, "Before he awakes. And you will need a disguise." The assassin wrapped one hand in his own cape, pulling it about him.

Zelda nodded, her wide blue gaze fixed on the still form in the snow. "Fine." She murmured quietly, the image of Demon's brutality wavering in her mind. Something told her it would not be the last casualty to fall to the black-robed warrior during the night, and she prayed for their deluded souls even as she appealed to the Goddesses for the assassin's.

Demon made no sound as he dragged the man underneath the stall and jerked away his cloak. Hopefully, no one had seen his entrance, or heard the drunkard's exclamation, but the warrior couldn't be sure. It was time to leave the beer-cart and find Kashi.

Handing the cloak to Zelda, he paused a moment while she wrapped it around herself, before dragging them both out of the stall and into the crowd. His own hood was already up, and the two figures were given hardly a glance as they pushed between villagers, whose festive spirit was growing steadily wilder as the night progressed. Demon tried hard to find openings in the massed party-goers, but even so, both he and the Princess were continuously jostled as they wound an arduous track behind the stage.

Above them, the performances had ended and the town's mayor mounted the steps to begin his speech. His task, self-appointed, was to officially proclaim the end of winter, and also, less officially, to entwine his face and voice with the festive mood in the eyes of the townsfolk. The Kakoriko general election was held annually, and though the man had _genuinely _cared for the townsfolk during the long trial of the blizzard, he would have to work hard to carry a majority after such a catastrophe. In his image was reflected the snow and ice of the worst storm Kakoriko had seen in a thousand years, and the people wanted no reminder of its terror.

"We have been given back hope!" The first words drifted over the crowd, as two cloaked figures abruptly broke away, stumbling into new-found freedom like infants from the womb of humanity behind them, and disappeared into the darkness. No menacing sentinel rose to dispute them, no visible alarm had been raised, and both Destined slumped against a wall to celebrate this small victory. Against their better judgment, both also strained to hear the Mayor's speech, as he ushered in a new chapter for the life of the village, one hopefully free of the nightmare which had preceded it.

"Hope for tomorrow!" The man cried, struggling to be heard in the masses before him. "Hope for a future! We have been tried, tested and found worthy! See!" He gestured to the sky. "The Goddesses themselves have intervened on our behalf, have overcome the powers arrayed against us, to give light and warmth once more. Look into the future my friends, and know that you have nothing to fear. The storm is over, so let us hope!"

For a moment, Demon felt himself caught up in the enthusiasm of the people before the stage, felt their optimism in the transforming seasons, but then brutal fact crushed the magic of the mayor's words. Let Hyrule hope, the man said, while the Aratians feasted on the capital, and the Great Evil itself rolled over the land like an ocean tide. The former would enslave them, while the latter ripped the very souls from their bodies. Like helpless cuckoos they ran to the slaughter, ignoring the dangers that surrounded them. A year before the assassin would have laughed at them, amused by their imminent destruction, but as Demon remembered the determined princess at his side, he realized that sadness, not derision, was all he felt.

"He doesn't know, does he?" Zelda whispered, the terrible pain in her eyes already lamenting for her people. The revelation was dawning on her too, the consequences that the melting snow and retreating clouds would have upon Kakoriko.

"None of them do."

"You can do nothing, Princess." Demon answered the plea before it came. "The Aratians will come with their hordes, and you and I cannot stop them alone."

The Princess closed her eyes. "You are right," she murmured, "We must go to Termina." When she opened them, there was danger lurking in their depths. "But I will not abandon them. When I have my army, I will return."

Demon looked back at the crowd, imagining the pain and death that would so soon engulf them. Perhaps the Aratian King would spare them, deem the inconsequential village too small for occupation, but the lies were obvious, even to himself. The assassin lowered his gaze, futilely trying to disguise the crimson that filled it, as anger flooded through him. "And I with you," he hissed.


	46. Chapter 46

Once again, it's been a terribly long time, and I'm sorry about that. I've been meaning to upload, but a bunch of sports, school, vacation and work all got in my way. I was so busy I just about failed a couple courses last semester, and writing ( in my parent's books...lol) falls a heck of a lot below schoolwork. Anyway, I went to a great writing workshop in Winnipeg with Rudy Wiebe, which really helped me with my writing (even if everyone else there was twenty years older). Fortunately, entrance was not based upon skill level, or I never would have got in.

Thanks to those who have persevered and are now gonna read this, sorry for those who have got bored and given up

Chapter 46

_Destiny reversed _

_There is a girl who lives inside _

_The blackness in my mind _

_She whispers things inside the shadows _

_Though I to her am blind _

_A figment from my past, a wraith _

_Remnant from a dream _

_More real than all the life I've seen _

_Blue eyes-the girl unseen _

_The madness blazes, darkness razes _

_Drowning out her voice _

_A single tear slides down her cheek _

_The dogs in hell rejoice _

_I think our fates were somewhere switched _

_The angel and the fool _

_White to Black or Black to White _

_Red eyes becoming blue _

-Celeborn00

They hurried through the town, avoiding the sparse light of the street-lamps with ease. Like wraiths upon the wings of night, princess and assassin stole through the empty village. No Hylian marked their passage, but there were other, sharper eyes in the shadows than mere human, and those…those were much harder to avoid.

Unfortunately, the Destined had been forced to the far side of the square by the crowds, and so found themselves having to travel nearly to the edge of the town to return to their lodging. Zelda and Demon dared not pass to close to the square, fearing to give themselves into Jon's hands, and yet, the deserted streets seemed to hold their own subtle menace; a sense of danger that caught both companions peering hard into the blackness that surrounded them in an attempt to discern what other presences might also be inhabiting it. Some, such as the subtle movements in neighboring alleys, could be banished as imagination, but gradually both assassin and princess became convinced that the oblivion of night harbored more than just the occasional villager returning home early from the festivities.

They were no more than halfway to the inn when Demon crept stealthily around a corner and froze in his tracks, pushing the princess back behind him into the wall. Zelda could feel the sudden tension in the arm that held her, a tightness that felt remarkably like fear. It was an emotion she had not believed the assassin possessed, and her eyes followed his to the center of the road, and the figure which blocked their path.

The lamplighter whose work had been remarkably absent at the fringes of Kakoriko seemed to have paid special attention to the street before them. Every light upon the entirety of its length glowed brightly, as if to hold the infinite blackness at bay, though minuscule by comparison. All the more ironic for the menace which stalked unafraid between, and the utter hopelessness of the companion's stealth under their watchful radiance.

From a distance, it was the largest man Zelda had ever seen, taller than even the Goron ambassador she had once negotiated with, and just as broad across the shoulder. A man at least, until the shape grew closer, and she quickly realized that the creature was hardly human.

"Darknut." Demon breathed, as he yanked the princess hurriedly back around the corner. "Now I understand."

"Is there another path?" Zelda shuddered, remembering the wrongness of the monstrous creature which advanced, unseen, upon them. Darknuts were the stuff of legend, creatures for stories and nightmares. Supposedly, they were the captains and commanders of Ganon's army, ancient knights who'd traded their souls to darkness in a pact that even death could not break.

Demon's only answer to her question was a flick of his head in the direction they had come, and as she turned, the princess's blood froze. Another shape moving slowly through the heavy shadows, eating up the distance in lumbering strides which rang somehow silent on the cobbled streets. Zelda whirled, turning to run down the one path still open to her, but stopped dead as a third appeared in the frail aura of a single street-light. A massive head lifted to meet Zelda's gaze with invisible eyes , and the malevolent stare froze the princess where she stood.

The steel-clad monstrosity broke into a shuffling run, the fastest its cumbersome armor allowed. A low bellow alerted its comrades to the presence of their quarry, and they too quickened their advance towards the beleaguered corner which harbored the two Destined. Eager to annihilate Hyrule's last hope against their dark master, and claim the spoils he had promised their undead souls in victory.

"My daggers cannot penetrate their armor." Demon rasped, breaking Zelda from her trance. "We'll have to outrun them." The assassin stared at the nearest of the quickly approaching monstrosities, a grimace announcing his reluctance to flee. Then he pulled the princess from behind the corner to the front of the house, forsaking the shadows in his haste.

A door gave way easily under his shoulder, and Demon rushed Zelda through the rooms of the empty dwelling, reaching the court beyond just as the first Darknut smashed through the thick wall which had formerly separated the enclosure from the street. Hitching her skirts in terror at the rough gratings of a massive sword being unsheathed, the princess almost outdistanced her guardian in the mad dash across the open space, before disappearing into the next row of houses. Indeed, she felt the rushing winds as a blade-stroke missed her head by inches, eliciting a snarl of frustration from the pursuing creature.

In front of her, Demon slipped smoothly through an unlocked entrance, moving from room to room with the trained grace of a warrior. His deceptive speed forced the princess to move faster than she ever had in her life, just to keep up. Only fear, unadulterated terror at the nightmare that hunted them, had allowed her to sprint as fast as she had, and Zelda shuddered to think at what the consequences of anything less. A second later across the uneven yard, and the Darknut would have had her head, and with it, Ganondorf's final victory over Hyrule.

Ahead, Demon hurdled a chair and slammed into the thin wooden door with the taught force of desperation. It exploded outward, his momentum barely checking as he sprinted through the frame and into the street, a blur of movement racing across the abandoned cobble-stones. Somewhere in the pursuing blackness the sound of crumpling walls heralded the presence of the hunt, but instead of urging Zelda onwards to greater speeds, the assassin slowed, then stopped, grabbing the princess's hand to pull her towards the shadows.

They had only time to duck behind an overturned wagon, so recently recovered from the thrashed snows, before two of the beasts came charging around the corner in search of their elusive prey. The first snarled angrily at the empty street, but the sound was overwhelmed by the sharp crack of shattering lumber as their companion burst through the shattered panels of the house. It paused for a moment to shake stray splinters from massive armor, and then scanned the row of houses, clutching formidable sword tight in brutish hands.

Crouched behind the overturned cart, Zelda barely had time to shrink back before the creature's gaze swept across their concealed forms. She could almost feel the unseen eyes upon her through the moldering barrier between, and found herself increasingly uncertain that the creature could, in fact, not see her, despite the logical impossibility. Reason itself proved shaky in the presence of such fallacies of nature, and the abilities and senses of Darknuts were hardly explained in the stories. The princess felt herself tense, imagining the gigantic shape creep closer and close as they crouched behind, lambs at the slaughter, and then it raised its massive weapon-

Then Demon was motioning her slowly backwards, moving away from the threatening blaze of the streetlight towards an alley behind them. In spite of herself, Zelda noticed that he neither tripped nor stumbled over the many slush-covered relics that haunted his path, despite having his eyes firmly fixed on the receding Darknut. It was an agility that Zelda envied as she floundered in her skirts through the darkness and into the street beyond. Every movement she made seemed to burst through with rustles and crunches, each louder than the last, and she winced, waiting to hear the tell-tale roar of the creature behind them, picking up their track. For his part, Demon seemed to ignore her stumbling, knowing that the princess was trying as desperately as himself to avoid attention.

They reached the street without incident, and Demon praised the Goddesses for the many confused trails that wandered through the melting slush, disguising their tracks. Without the chaos the princess and himself would have been laughably easy to follow, and probably would have been caught long before. It was one of the advantages given them by the small village, meager in the face of the power arrayed against the Destined, but important just the same. And Demon would take any opportunity given, as long as it allowed Zelda to walk away alive.

Both companions raced down the street, the assassin leading into a quick right, another, and then a left as he guided them back towards the square. The princess's brow furrowed, realizing Demon's course and not liking the implications, but she too was unable to think of an alternative. In fact she had almost resigned himself to returning to the party and its separate dangers when Demon turned and entered one of the shops which lined the street. Glancing swiftly into the menacing shadows that surrounded them, the assassin all but pulled the princess inside, but not before she glimpsed the hammer and anvil of a blacksmith above the door.

The sight that greeted them inside the armory was enough to make Zelda turn right around head back into the night with the Darknuts, and she would have, if not for Demon's hand upon her shoulder. The "blacksmith," it seemed, was the same man who had performed a weapon routine for the crowd in the square, and the same axe from his performance rested across his knees, the handle extending nearly a foot past the breadth of his body. He looked oblivious to the sudden trespassers to his domain, but the way his knuckles whitened as the door closed behind them suggested otherwise. The illusion was dispelled as the man raised his head to confront them.

"So you are the ones they are chasing." Husam's dark eyes were cold and hard, studying the two fugitives. "I guessed as much."

Strained to the breaking point, Demon's smoldering anger surged at the arrogance in the man's words, but he pushed it down, refusing to surrender to the devouring rage. He had come to the foreign warrior for help, and he would not let his own weakness destroy the chance of receiving it.

"I need a weapon, Husam," the assassin started, ignoring the princess's startled reaction as he called the blacksmith by name. "And someone to guard my liege-lady while I am out hunting." Demon studied the armorer, observing the tanned face harden still further. "I will pay anything you desire, just hold her safe until I return."

Silence stretched between them for several seconds as the black-smith scrutinized both assassin and princess, questions rising unasked in his eyes. Deliberation stretched, then transformed to decision, and Husam slowly levered himself to his feet. But his attention was no longer focused upon his visitors, but instead directed at the great weapon which he caressed with obvious familiarity before him.

"My grand-father," he breathed, staring as if transfixed at the deadly half moon blade, "Died when the first Durent-" He frowned. "You call them...Darknut." Continued . "Hordes overran the desert." He built a wall of corpses as tall as himself in front of the village gates, and died with this axe in his hands." The man paused, ran a finger softly down the blade of the weapon, and let two drops of blood fall from the shallow cut it left behind. "My father swore revenge upon his grave, and set off into the wilderness with the men of our clan. When he crawled back alone, two days later, he could not speak, they had cut out his tongue, but he too died with this axe in his hands."

Husam paused again, licking the welling blood absently from his fingers, before raising his head to focus on Demon. "When the hordes disappeared, marched away into the distance as if called by some master from afar, I was too young to follow. When I grew older, the trail was gone, but the holy priests told me of a land to the North, a land under the symbol of a blazing triangle, from which the Durent came."

Muscles rippled in his arms as he clenched the haft of his massive weapon, swinging it in a slow circle around his head. It glittered and flashed to the four lamps that lit the room, showing the work of a thousand polishes upon its ancient head.

"I have carried this axe across mountain, ocean and desert, to this land of Hyrule, and it has feasted on much evil, but never on Darknut, the creatures who killed my father and my father's father. That is why I cannot hide here with your lady while you hunt the murderers of my ancestors."

Demon nodded slowly, seeing the same rage which welled up within his soul reflected in the eyes of the other. "Then you go," he rasped. "And I will stay here. But at least give me a blade."

Husam raised his hands, gesturing to the various weapons which hung from every wall of the shop. "Take your pick," he said. "All were made for the same purpose as my axe. But I do not think I will be hunting the Durent" He grinned, a man seeing the final destination in sight, the end of along road.

" The Durent have hunted you."


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Husam's eyes swept past the assassin to the storefront window, and he hefted the axe in his hands, waiting eagerly for the first hulking shape as it barreled through the thick transparent pane. Wooden splinters spun lazily through the air, mixing with glittering shards, the door, too, giving way before the crushing charge of another monster. In seconds, the front of the armory had been completely demolished, and the two Destined spun to face the nightmarish charge.

Despairingly, Demon threw himself at the princess, knowing, even before the first of the massive creatures cleared the entrance-way, that he would never reach her before the Darknuts. The act was futile, guaranteed only to throw him, too, onto the blade which swung heavily through the air, but the assassin could not have stopped himself, even had the option occurred to him. Instinct, rather than thought, propelled him, reaction, rather than reason. His being, his very soul was his princess, and there was no distinction between her death, and his own in the mind of the black-clad warrior.

Zelda faced the charge unmovingly, cloak falling away, grip forgotten as the maelstrom descended upon her. Time slowed, moving forward in impossibly different increments, allowing the princess to study her executioner in its unstoppable charge. Even the dull reflections on the creature's twisted plate-armor seemed to lengthen and catch, providing stark contrast to the impenetrable darkness within its helm. Unreal, inhuman, a faceless remembrance of the dead, the Darknut roared in victory, but too early, before its purpose was accomplished.

The stolen moment had passed, but the time had not been wasted. Confusion and uncertainty flowed away as Zelda felt the ancient magic of the Triforce rise within herself, seizing control, along with the opportunity, with both hands. Winds whipped suddenly through the room and buffeted the princess from all sides, but even the option of fear was ripped from Zelda's grip. In fact, she grinned, her eyes shining with the light of a thousand moons as she harnessed the power of a goddess and hurled it at her attacker.

The armored creature erupted.

Flames, blinding infernos burst from every chink and crack in the thick armor which had proved such futile protection. Radiating light accompanied the flame, illuminating the unseen sinews and flesh instantly, and creating the terrifying likeness of an angel out of the carcass of a monster. It was an agony impossible to be borne by mortal flesh, or even the enchanted form of Ganon's minions, the hapless creature charbroiled in an instant, like a lobster in the thick armor of its shell. But so powerful was Zelda's spell that even that protective carapace vaporised seconds after, transforming to a fine dust which floated slowly to the floor.

Zelda found herself blinded by the cataclysm and instinctively released control of the relic, falling to her knees as she relinquished power in the blink of an eye. Then Demon, his desperate lunge no longer needed, crashed into her and hurled them both into the back corner of the room. It was only after he had ripped free the massive spear which had previously guarded the forge entrance, and turned to face the remaining Darknuts, that Zelda managed to clear her gaze and take stock of the situation.

The creatures, witnessing the dramatic annihilation of their fellow, had paused in their assault, perhaps wondering at the wisdom of further pursuit. Other, lesser monsters would have broken and ran in the face of such power, but even the threat of a fiery demise could not halt Ganon's harbingers for long. Callously, they lumbered through the ashes left by Zelda's attack, and focused once more upon the princess and her guardian. Like the vicious gods of war worshiped by the ancients, the twin giants raised their broadswords to attack. It was the opening Husam needed.

The armorer flung himself at the nearest monster with a desperate intensity that belied his decade-long search. Barely recognizable behind the horrendous rictus of a snarl he wore, it was the man's inherent rage more than anything that gave him success against the vastly superior foe. Revenge, the need for vengeance, drove Husam's axe through cloth and steel, undead flesh and rotted muscle, as he clove one thick leg from the monster.

Demon moved quickly to join the assault, forcing the second Darknut to turn and face the new menace. It snarled, lashing out with jagged blade, but stayed deliberately close to its wounded fellow, cautious now, of the bite of its quarry. The numerical odds were even, and though the armored knights still held the advantage, it was an increasingly tenuous grip in which they kept it. For the momentum had swung to the beleaguered mortals, and the forced desperation of their attack.

Using his superior speed, the assassin managed to land two solid hits to his opponent, before another scythe-like blow made him retreat out of range. Husam, on the other hand, seemed oblivious of all danger.

The armorer was half-way through the other leg, his brutal weapon birthing shrapnel from the thick armor of the Darknut as he pounded away like a crazed wood-cutter. Too close for blade, the creature was pummelling Husam's elaborate helm and pauldron to pieces with gauntleted fists, but position and leverage made the single decisive blow needed to finish the battle impossible. At least until the beast changed tactics, ramming the spiked greave of its half-severed leg into the attacking warrior. Husam's breast-plate crumpled like paper as the steel projection pierced him, spearing the man upon wicked point and pulping his organs in the process. A mortal wound, one that would have killed most men immediately, rent from their grasp the fragile gift of life and spewed their evicted souls to death and doom beyond. But to Husam, death meant the failure of a quest that had obsessed his family for three generations, and that, beyond all else, could not be borne.

Painfully, the armorer wrapped his legs around his opponent's limb, and raised his axe over his head with both hands. Blood ran in rivers down his torso, coating the floor and Darknut in vibrant crimson, and yet the man did not falter. His ruined body strained with the violence of one final stroke, legs bulging as they provided the leverage to bury his axe deep into the monster's skull. Eagerly, easily, it pierced the formidable thickness of helm and bone like butter, to wreak a vengeance so long awaited upon the elusive _Durent_, murderers of the ancestors.

Demon barely saw the monster fall, all his attention focused on the massive blade that sought so ferociously to cleave him in two. His lance had snapped in half, caught between two armored plates in his opponent's formidable defense, leaving the warrior bereft of weapon in the face of a much superior foe. A hopeless position with the odds heavily against the assassin, but to relent was to expose the princess behind him, and that Demon could not do.

Zelda shook her head frantically in an attempt to clear her eyes of the flashing light and fireworks that filled them. The abrupt retreat of the Triforce had forced her nearly to unconsciousness, and the collision with the forge wall had hardly helped. Scrabbling against the barrier in an attempt to right herself, the princess's hands closed upon a leather-bound cylinder, one that tipped precariously downwards as she pressed more weight upon it. She squinted, trying to discern the object through the glittering specks which cloaked her vision. It was a hilt, the hilt of a curved scimitar which swung heavily from the wall in Zelda's grip, the unexpected weight pressing the tip steadily earth-wards in her straining hands. Once she would have been terrified of the demonic creature before her, but the intoxicating liquor of power was still fresh in her veins, and the princess's eyes flashed as she smiled. "For Hyrule," she whispered.

Maybe she would have attacked then, wielding a weapon she could not possibly bear, if Demon had not chosen that moment to glance back at her. The Darknut had buried its sword in the armory wall, and in the extra second needed to pull the blade free, the assassin's gaze met Zelda's. _Help me, _his eyes pleaded, and he turned back to face the monster, placing his trust, indeed his life, once again in the hands of his princess.

Both Destined moved at the same time, driven by need to the perfection that only blind instinct can attain. Zelda heaved the sword upward, lofting it across the chamber with all the strength she possessed and watched it fly through the air. Like an unwieldy arrow across a lamp-light sky the heavy blade spun awkwardly towards the creature's head, the fate of both companions compressed into the accuracy of its flight. The Darknut seemed to laugh at the pitiful attempt and ignored the missile entirely in its advance upon Demon, but it had not counted on the blinding quickness of the Hylian gladiator, given one last chance to defeat the creature and end the battle.

The assassin rode the next blow, flipping up upon the monster's blade to grasp the bottom of the gaffed helm and swing himself to the massive shoulders. Between Demon's knees, the Darknut snarled and reached upwards with armored paw to tear the usurper from his perch, but too late, to slow, to rally against its inevitable destruction. The assassin, too, snarled as his hand closed upon the scimitar hilt, tearing Zelda's weapon from mid-air, but the sound was quickly drowned by his opponent's screams when the blade plunged into the monster's neck. Husam's sword, purpose accomplished, fell clattering to the floor, along with the assassin, who triumphantly watched the slain monster topple backwards to lay atop its companion.

For a battle that had lasted only a few minutes, the destruction was horrendous. The inside of the armory was a blasted, hacked memory of itself, and the entrance, partially hidden by the piled bodies of the slain, had been completely destroyed. Trampled ash mixed with both mortal blood and the ichor of Ganon's creations coated the entire chamber in gory streaks and spurts, a ghastly memorial to the violence which had so completely engulfed it. But the assassin and Zelda had won, had survived, and that single fact caused all others to pale in significance.

Demon turned his head to the princess, who came quietly to stand beside him amidst the rubble. The assassin scrutinized her carefully, noticing a shallow gash above her right eye, and the angry bruise which marked her contact with the wall. His first reaction was worry, but something in Zelda's eyes told him that right then was perhaps not the best time to mention her injuries. She did not need his concern, much as the injuries suggested otherwise.

"That was a nice throw, Princess." the assassin remarked, showing one of his rare smiles to match the deepening blue in his eyes. "Although the inferno was perhaps more spectacular."

Zelda too, tried a tentative smile, finding that the terrible intensity of the battle had left her needing to laugh. To find humor in something, anything, to relieve the mounting tension. "You think maybe it was too much?" The princess grinned wryly at Demon. She herself had barely avoided being singed by the fireball her Triforce power had created, and could only imagine what impact it had created upon the assassin, to have an enemy spontaneously combust before him. With the thought came remembrance of Husam, and Zelda looked confusedly around the room, wondering where the armorer had gone. She had missed his fall, not seen the blow which skewered him, but Demon was not so ignorant.

The warrior's grin disappeared, along with the feeble light in his eyes, and he moved swiftly around the piled Darknuts to Husam's half-buried form. The armorer was miraculously still alive, and yet so far gone that Zelda knew, even before an unsuccessful attempt to reach the Triforce, that she could not save him. The princess closed her eyes to avoid the gruesome scene and gritted her teeth as she grasped desperately through her soul for the elusive shard that could heal any wound.

It was not to be.

Zelda felt the gentle pressure of Demon's gauntlet on her shoulder, calling her back from a futile search, but it was minutes before she relented and opened tear-filled eyes to meet the assassin's. Another soul consigned to doom by her weakness, another subject failed by his princess. There had been enough dead already, without adding Husam to their number.

Abruptly, the wounded man shifted, snapping the attention of both princess and assassin back to the armorer. His dark eyes shifted painfully to meet theirs, and though the intensity was gone, the fire remained, slowly being snuffed by the encroaching darkness behind.

"My axe." The whisper was barely audible even in the stillness. "Bring it to me."

The weapon was still deeply buried in the skull of Humas's kill, but Demon wrenched it free, taking care to wipe the blade clean before bringing it to its owner. Unable the complete the action himself, the armorer grimaced as Demon laid the axe across his chest and twined numb fingers around its haft, but his features relaxed somewhat with the comforting presence of the weapon. He would die with honour, revenge accomplished, and the symbol of his ancestors in his hands.

Husam's eyes slid past the two Destined to the ceiling and beyond, seeing the end that rushed to engulf him, and yet his words and voice came stronger, pushed by and inner strength that battled death for a few minutes longer in the mortal world. "I am sorry for my words." The armorer winced, gritting his teeth in anguish. "On the day I left my homeland the prophets told me I could find vengeance in this Goddess-blessed land, but also," he gasped, "Death. On the day I met an angel and a demon together. When I saw you here tonight, I feared that I would die before I could fulfill my vengeance. But I... I have not failed."

Then his eyes closed, his chest fell without rising anew, and the warrior known as Husam died with his axe in his hands.

Tears were rolling unchecked down Zelda's cheeks when she finally turned away from the gruesome scene, from the man whose sacrifice had saved hers and Demon's lives, and ended his own life-long quest for revenge. She had not known Husam, had never spoken to the man before entering the armory, but he had become another casualty of the Cycle. The armorer had been torn like Zelda herself from freedom into the intricate snares of Destiny. He was a comrade, another soldier dragged into the fight against darkness, and for that she could weep.

Outside the shop snow crunched underfoot, raising Demon's head to evaluate the new threat. The princess, her senses not nearly as fine-tuned as the assassin's, had missed the sound, but she, too, tensed as knives appeared in Demon's hands and he stepped away from the mound of corpses. Frankly, the assassin would not have minded something to fight at that moment, some mindless evil on which to vent his frustration. Husam would have made a valuable ally if he had not allowed his rage to blind him, and the implications revealed Demon's own trap. For the armorer was not the only one consumed by anger, and facing the consequences.

The warrior's hopes were dispelled as the inn-keeper, Kashi, rounded the corner instead of another of Ganon's creatures. Hollow-eyed and hunched, the bear-like man looked a shadow of his former self, but his demeanor brightened as his gaze found Demon and Zelda standing apparently unharmed within the wreckage. It was plain that he had expected different, but neither Destined could hold such thoughts against him. The destructive trail the Darknuts had created during the earlier chase suggested a considerably more impressive enemy than a solitary warrior and a noblewoman could hope to defeat. Even the likes of the Princess of Hyrule and Aratia's finest assassin.

"Goddesses." the innkeeper whispered, incredulity overcoming his features at the destruction which had swept through the armory, and the massive bodies of the monsters. Then his gaze fastened on Demon, filled with awe. "What are you?" he whispered.

Both the man's eyebrows shot up as Demon raised only one finger in the air, and he glanced almost fearfully to the princess and to the second beast in quick succession. He opened his mouth to speak, but Zelda beat him to it.

"Husam." She explained. "He gave his life in the process."

"That is a loss." Kashi mourned quietly, his features crumpling in sorrow. "There are... were, few men better in the Village, whatever was said about him. And I, for one, will lament his passing." The moment passed heavy and sombre in remembrance of the departed, before Kashi bowed to the mounting pressure of their situation. Laboriously, he pushed aside the death of his fellow villager to turn his gaze toward Demon's, but his eyes held the same haunted vision for many minutes afterwards.

"Our ruse worked as planned," the innkeeper announced, shattering the solemnity of the previous moment with his words. "But I saw... tracks in the snow on the way back to the warrior, and then when you two did not arrive..."

He grimaced. "I was prepared to find bodies, Princess. I have heard tales of these monsters and did not think that any could stand against them."

Zelda wiped her hands on her skirt as she rose to her feet, tangled blonde hair smeared with ash and blood. "What?" she asked, planting hands on hips. "You think we'd just let them kill us?"

Kashi stiffened in surprise, but managed a wan grin. "I suppose not, Princess."

Zelda glanced back at Husam's still form and a shadow passed over her face, but it quickly changed to determination. "We don't have the time to give him proper rites, not if we want to escape the village before Jon finds us."

"He's gathered a mob," Kashi warned. "Many have risen to his call, though perhaps these," he gestured to the Darknuts, "Have something to do with that. There would have been trouble back at the inn, until a young man came running into the common room shouting about monster in the village. It sent the whole lot running into the street, and I gathered your packs to find you. I think it is time you left the village."

A muffled boom rose from behind the startled innkeeper, and he turned halfway to witness a soft orange glow above the rooftops. Gentle in appearance, it seemed almost like the first fingers of dawn come creeping over the snow-swept fields beyond, but Demon knew better. He had been in too many battles, to many wars, to not recognize the signature of arson.

"They're burning The Warrior," rasped the assassin from behind eyes swiftly turning the colour of the faint glow. "Bastards!"

"No!" The bear-like villager's fists clenched and he rushed through the shattered opening. It was a futile gesture, the fire was already too advanced to be extinguished, but Kashi could barely stop himself from running back to defend his business. To lose everything after having spent so long rebuilding his life... It almost made a suicidal return to the inn worthwhile, just to take a couple of the perpetrators with him into the afterlife.

Almost worth it.

The innkeeper growled in frustration, but stopped anyway. When he turned back to the princess and assassin, anger was stretched taut within his features, yet Kashi sensed the webs of Destiny winding around him, pulling him onwards towards glory and judgment in the grip of the Cycle. Somewhere in his mind, he resented the impossible pull the two companions placed upon him, and yet another part, the larger, understood and accepted. They needed him, and as much as the choice had been made for him, the innkeeper needed them too.

"I can guide you over the mountains." Kashi muttered. "It seems there is nothing left for me here."


	48. Chapter 48

Hey! I'm back again on a rainy sunday afternoon with nothing to do.

So I uploaded a chapter!

This ones a little not good (no, that was intentional), so don't get mad.

I also left my editors note in at the bottom, cause it's pretty funny.

Lookin' forward to reviews!

Celeborn00

Chapter 4

_Broken Moonbeams_

_I once rode a wave to a far away sea. _

_Just to get away from here _

_I once sold souls on a broken moonbeam _

_Just to pay my subway fare _

_I once took God on a seismic fling _

_Just to say I didn't care _

_I once lived life as a waking dream _

_Just to prove that dreams aren't fair _

_And I once tried to hide in the past _

_Just to win an empty dare _

_But once is once, though I'd do it twice _

_Just to get away from there _

The escape failed at the first corner, even before the three companions reached their packs. The hunt had found them.

Zelda, Demon, and Kashi came around the last shop on the street at a dead run, but skidded to a halt in grim surprise at the group surrounding their possessions. Where before had lain only the trampled remnants of snow and slush, stood Jon and his faithful mob, complete with clubs, staves and knives. Some grinned, others snarled, and a few brandished their weapons, but all stood between Demon and his objective. It was not, perhaps, the wisest position, given the circumstances.

"Give us the Demon and his consort!" Jon cried, directing his ultimatum to Kashi. "And you may leave unscathed."

Kashi looked from Zelda to Demon, and his considering gaze made Demon shift menacingly. Earlier he would have handed the assassin over willingly, but now he had made his choice, and he intended to stick with it.

"Do you honestly think," he laughed, "That I am even capable of carrying out that request?"

Demon's growl echoed through the street, wickedly edged blades appearing like glittering ice in the assassin's hands. Kashi stepped forward.

"This man is Demon, the Butcher of Aratia." The innkeeper grinned as the title elicited startled oaths among the mob. "Over a thousand arena matches to his name, and he has never lost. The Aratians say he was found as a babe in the Temple of the God of Death himself, sent to dole out judgment upon us. It is said he cannot be beaten, that he cannot be killed, even that he is a dark spirit incarnated into this mortal realm by the powers of chaos."

"His eyes!" one man moaned, "Look at his eyes!"

The assassin began to advance, his crimson glare narrowing onto one figure as the rest of the pack retreated behind their leader. Night closed in about them in gusting shadows, but it was the constant, malice-ridden stare that broke them. There was nothing human in those eyes, and one could easily imagine that the tortured creature behind was an avenger from the dark realm. A wraith sent to exact judgment for the sins of humanity, a demon, born of death to breed its like.

A knife flashed from the mob towards the crimson points, and whistled past them to bury itself in a rotten plank. One man, unable to bear the tension, ran screaming towards the assassin with sword outstretched, only to pitch forward with his innards spilling from an eviscerated torso. It was the town butcher, the man who had spent countless hours learning to juggle during the blizzard. Zelda gasped in shock as she recognized his pain-wracked face, but all Demon saw was the corpses. Walking ones yet, but that would soon be remedied.

He actually sheathed his weapons as he stepped from the night to face Jon, but the astonished traitor was blatantly unresponsive as the assassin's hands closed on his throat. He had believed, counted, on the Demon's reluctance to harm the villagers as his key to victory, and the disillusionment shook him to the core. The stories always painted the Hero of Time as a noble youth who dispensed justice to Hyrule with fairness and bravery, and this creature before him could not have been more different than that image.

Jon's eyes bulged, the steel-clad fingers digging relentlessly into his throat. Tighter they squeezed until the traitor could almost feel tendons snapping and bone cracking as his windpipe slowly gave way to the pressure.

"Tell Ganondorf that Demon sent you!" the assassin snarled, and Jon closed his eyes to face the eternity of torture and pain awaiting those that failed the Master. Abruptly, he realized the folly of the oath he had taken, the lies he had eagerly accepted, and the words that had bound him forever to the dark one.

Demon, too, closed his eyes, in anticipation of revenge, but a foreign pressure on his arm caused him to open them again, and frown down at the smaller princess who had stepped forward to stop him.

"There has been enough killing, Demon," She whispered, softly enough that the surrounding mob could not hear. "Let him go."

Jon gasped as steely fingers unclasped themselves from around his throat, and his eyes sent something like gratitude in the princess's direction. She nodded back, before pulling back to Kashi, pulling the assassin behind her.

"This should have been a night of revelry," Zelda announced to the mob, once she and Demon had retreated from their midst. "Not one of bloodshed. I do not want anymore-"She glanced meaningfully at the butcher prostrate upon the ground. "To die because of us. Allow Kashi to be our guide to the mountain pass and we will leave you. Is that not preferable to fighting?"

Jon stiffened for a moment, as if to protest, but then one hand reached unconsciously to the bruises on his throat and he slumped in defeat. "That is acceptable." His anguished gaze betrayed the torture he was already anticipating from for his failure. "Please. Go."

A disconcerted rumble ran through the crowd, but they parted just the same to allow the three companions through. None had any wish to face the berserk assassin again, and despite the tightening of hands upon weapons as Demon passed, most were happy with the terms of this Lady Ariana's agreement. Blood and revenge were not necessary, as long as they never had to face that haunted stare again...

Kashi turned, after they had passed beyond the last straggler, and his eyes fell upon the assembly with open distaste. In the flickering torchlight soot was visible on the faces of some of the villagers, and it had not gone unnoticed to the former owner of The Warrior. "It is lucky for you," he growled, "That I will not be returning." Walking over to the gutter, he hefted the companion's packs from among the rubble and then turned to follow Demon and Zelda into the bleary twilight of Kakoriko's outskirts.

Not one of the villagers moved to follow them.

Exiled indefinitely from the small village, the travelers trod towards freedom with a confidence born of desperation. They paused once, to allow Demon to steal a lantern from an unwatched shed, but they quickly left Kakoriko behind. The town could no longer hold them, and like a spider cutting free a larger insect from its web, it let them go.

But they were hardly upon the slopes of the mountain, upon which the furthest houses of the village clung precariously, when Zelda rounded upon her assassin body-guard.

"That butcher was innocent, you fool!" She hissed. "He had a family, a livelihood, and you eviscerated him like cattle!" The blood-drenched ruin of her gown hampered her movements, but she hammered a fist into Demon's chest just the same. "He was a Hylian! One of my people!"

The assassin stiffened, his eyes widening in pain at the princess's assault. He had thought nothing of killing the villager, perceived none of the person who stood behind the threat. The butcher had stupidly attacked him and been consequently destroyed. Remorse, even regret, could not be understood.

Infuriated by the blank incomprehension in his face, Zelda advanced upon the assassin once again, but was halted as Kashi's hand fell upon her shoulder.

"That one knows not what he does, Princess," The big man announced quietly. "And it would take too long to explain it to him. Come, we must make it to the base of the pass before you die of exposure."

The princess stared hollowly at Demon for a second, the urge to violence forgotten as quickly as it had come, but not her anger. "No." She muttered, "He does know. He has just forgotten."

She started to turn, to follow Kashi, but Demon's voice stopped her. "I am sorry, Princess, if that changes anything. I did not mean to cause you pain."

Zelda's slim form tightened, partly from cold, and part frustration. "It is not my pain that distresses me." She motioned the assassin forward, and fell in step with him behind the beacon-like glow of Kashi's lantern. "You killed a man tonight, Demon, a man almost wholly innocent with a family and a home."

"I have been killing men all my life, Princess," The warrior sighed. "Why should this one be any different?"

"You knew the butcher," Zelda argued. "We visited his shop several times, and he was there at the festival. Do you honestly feel nothing for his death?"

Silently, the assassin removed the cloak from his shoulders and draped it around the shivering princess. "I am the Demon." He whispered. "I do not feel."

And yet Zelda could see the pain hidden carefully within his eyes, before the black-clad warrior moved to join Kashi in front and left her alone to follow them along in the sea of darkness.

Inn-keeper and bodyguard strode side-by-side for several minutes with neither speaking, rendered silent by the uneasy suspicion each other's presence inspired. The muddy path, leading awkwardly to the base of the mountain pass, dragged at both men's heavy boots, but left no impression upon their pace. It was Kashi who eventually broke the stalemate.

"I have a question for you, assassin," the inn-keeper announced suddenly as his gaze swept along the shadowed trail before them. "This blizzard, why did it end? I do not mean to question the power of the Goddesses, far from it, but I cannot help but doubt their involvement in this miracle. Was this an act of the Goddesses, assassin?"

Demon shrugged. "It served their purpose, maybe, to have the storm end. But even the Goddesses cannot control the powers unleashed upon this land."

Jagged boulders like giant molars reared forth on either side of the path, wet sides glistening in the lantern light. They seemed to crowd inwards towards the companions, but Kashi ignored their menace as his eyes locked on oblivion. "What powers do you speak of? The Aratians? And why did they not continue the blizzard then, and crush us?"

The assassin made a small motion, and the two companions pace began to lag back towards the exhausted princess. For the first time he turned to look at the innkeeper, fingering one of the small throwing knives strapped to his wrist. "The blizzard has served their purpose too, helped them control the Hylian Capital, disorganized, weakened their enemies, but its usefulness has passed. Perhaps the Aratians now wish to conquer us completely, or to capture the princess." His eyes shifted to the fast-approaching girl. "That storm kept them from taking her in Kakoriko."

Abruptly, Zelda was between them, and she looked suspiciously from face to face.

"You were talking about something important, weren't you?" She accused, glaring back and forth.

Still mindful of their earlier conversation, Demon said nothing. Luckily, Zelda's attention was diverted as Kashi stopped suddenly.

Before them, the ragged path fell between two boulders, and then veered sharply upward into the gaping wedge between mountains. Loose gravel and scree spilled down ragged slopes to pool among rock and lichens. It was quite a wide pass, compared to some of the others in the range, but the sheer height of the neighboring peaks and the surrounding darkness made it seem impossibly narrow.

Zelda imagined herself squeezing between two mountains, feeling the crushing weight of thousands of tons of rock, and shivered. She watched Kashi turn from the path with curiosity, but followed him the short distance across granite rubble to a stream anyway. He was their guide, and had proven himself trustworthy.

The trickling water fell from heights above as it made a treacherous descent from a spring somewhere above on the mountain slope, and the deathly cold liquid intensified Zelda's discomfort, a false step filling her boot with water. Melting snow had swollen the stream, until it overflowed its banks and sent tendrils rushing down a variety of routes. Kashi had to turn aside many times as he led them upstream, even clambering over the gleaming trunk of a sapling overturned by the waters rigors. It was a treacherous climb in the dark, and many times both Demon and Zelda just caught themselves from slipping in the deceptive shadows cast upon the rocks.

Suddenly, the lantern simply disappeared, abandoning the princess and her bodyguard in the moonless night. The rush of water magnified in their ears to compensate for the lack of vision. A wolf howled from far above on the slopes and Zelda jumped, drawing closer to Demon. For a moment the terrible possibility of betrayal raced through both their minds, the assassin reaching for a weapon against possible ambush, but then the lantern blazed once more as Kashi exited a hidden cave.

The innkeeper's eyes took in the spontaneously awkward situation instantly and launched into an explanation. "We can take shelter here for the night and head into the mountains tomorrow. And..." He gestured into the cave, "We might even get warm."

I like this chapter. The getaway is always fun. But there was one spot in there, I think i pointed it out, where the melodrama between Zelda and Demon got a little heavy. The point of the conversation was good, and it started well, but at the end... ugh. When you get that melodramatic, you can say anything, and make it sound important. "I like ice cream," said Zelda quietly. "Chocolate's my favorite flavor" murmered Demon, as he looked into her blue eyes, and wondered how he could have decieved her all along. "Oh, if only I could tell you," he thought. Demon didn't like ice cream. If I wrote like that for english, our teacher would have my head. But other than the melodrama, the chapter was pretty good. Some of your sentences got a bit on the long side though, and some were a bit too dramatic. It does reflect the mood, to have longer sentences in a melodramatic, less hurried situation. Your dialogue was, for the most part, the best written part of the chapter, in my opinion. I liked Zelda in this chapter- think she reacted to things mostly as I would have liked her to. Except for Demon's silly, "Me Demon. Me feel no pain when things go ouchie on the heart." But yup, I'm tired and that's all I can think of, though my better sarcasm and sentence structure is still gone. Oh well.


	49. Chapter 49

another chapter...finally. It's amazing how busy everything is once you hit Grade 12. I barely have time to write for myself at all anymore.

I was just wondering...is anybody here a journalist? Cause I'm in this class at school, and I'm figuring out very fast how different journalism is from creative writing. Frankly, I'm lost.

Anyway, this chapter starts off terrible and I apologize for that. I had a very tough time writing it way back when, and by all rights it should be rewritten. I just don't have time. So I'm gonna post it and hope you can forgive me. Maybe the last half makes up for it, but I guess it depends upon your taste.

Chapter 49

_Ripped in Two _

_I could see your face in the misty times _

_Feel your love inside my rhymes _

_My voice caught, to hear your name _

_And in your eyes, I found my shame _

_I threw a chair at my bedroom door _

_Collapsed onto a stone-cold floor _

_I've been ripped apart, in two _

_I don't exist, because of you. _

_When the sunset sea flows through to me _

_And the stars in the sky set the darkness free _

_I float forever on a blue-green swell _

_See you smile in my private hell _

_The Lord once said, I keep your soul _

_Thanks to you, he's got half of the whole _

_I can't decide which half it is _

_But the one you got, that half ain't his. _

The cave loomed from the steep bank like a carnivorous mouth, relinquishing its granite interior reluctantly to the intruding light. Sandy gravel crunched gratingly beneath the companions' feet as they moved farther inside. By the standards of the cramped grottos which were rumored to scatter the mountain ranges, this cave was monstrous, and Zelda found herself wondering what equally gargantuan creature could inhabit it.

A pile of wood and a short axe in one corner allayed her fears somewhat, but it was not until the princess, escorted by Demon, had explored the farthest reaches of the cave that she allowed herself to relax. Her childhood had been full of stories regarding strange monsters in subterranean caverns, and it never hurt to check.

Zelda retreated behind a bend with her pack, and shivered her way into fresh clothing, before tossing the blood-splattered wreck of her dress aside. Maybe she would wash it in the morning; maybe it was too far gone to save. She really didn't care as she pulled Demon's cloak around her shoulders and felt warmth seep into her cold-sapped bones.

The assassin was kindling a fire in the cave entrance when she returned, piling the fuel just beneath the overhanging rock to keep the smoke from filling the cave. He was hunched close to the ground with his back to the princess, but somehow sensed her approach and turned accordingly. "You changed. Good."

Zelda ran her eyes across the camp and realized that most of their meager equipment was already unpacked. "I am sorry," she stammered, "I should have

helped, is there anything else I-"

Kashi stood up from his task and turned with an uncharacteristic smile upon his features. "You can cook. Goddess knows how I hate cooking." He held out a wrapped package to the princess and she took it gingerly. "Three steaks meant for the feast, but they'll taste just as good out here."

The package was damp in Zelda's grip, where the meat's juices had soaked through the surrounding paper. She held the meat in two hands, while desperately trying to concoct an excuse for the expectant inn-keeper. Cooking was not a skill readily taught to a princess.

"I'll cook." Demon's voice rasped from above a struggling flame. The bone-dry wood hardly crackled as it was consumed in the fledgling camp-fire.

"Then I'll help you," Zelda added, noting the startled look in his eyes with amusement. "I will not be useless baggage."

The assassin stiffened. "Already you have saved my life once today. I would not call that useless."

"And yet you would prevent me from lifting a finger as you two slave away in my service."

Demon's ice-blue eyes challenged her to disagree. "As I said, you have already contributed much today."

"One might say that you are now in my debt for killing that Darknut," The princess responded, a smile playing at the corner of her lips as she tried a different tactic. "Therefore you must grant me any favor in compensation for your life."

Fire reflected ominously in the assassin's eyes, and he growled the next words with reluctant foreboding. "Anything you ask."

Nodding slightly, Zelda delivered the decisive blow. "Then please consider letting me help as repayment for that act."

Demon was beaten and he knew it, backed into a corner from which there was no escape. By all rights, she should be served on hand and foot with all the ceremony royalty deserved, but she had twisted the words until he could not deny her. "Fine." He rumbled.

The assassin took a moment to feel sorry for the Prince of Termina. He wouldn't stand a chance.

Kashi made a huffing sound from the corner that sounded like laughter, cut short as Demon's head swung towards him. This time, the crimson was not all fire-reflection, and the innkeeper went quiet, despite his bulk.

Moonless sky cloaked the night, revealing not the passage of time above the cave. It was early into the new day, and yet the companions enjoyed their meal despite the strange situation. They had not made it to the food tables in the town square before having to run from Jon's men, and the aroma of cooking made each realize how hungry they had become during the escape.

Around them, Hyrule slept in uneasy peace, anticipating the chaos which would engulf the near future. Somewhere in the night, the dull pounding of Aratian footfalls could almost be heard sweeping onwards to domination. But as Zelda focused upon the task of cooking, even the problems of a nation were inconsequential.

The companions were eating before Kashi spoke up again, having watched the assassin carefully instruct Zelda in the culinary arts. Outside, the mouth of the cave shadows flitted among boulders, jerking back and forth to the erratic staccato of the stream trickling down its uneven route, but the innkeeper seemed entirely unaware of his surroundings as he stared past the fire towards the princess. "This is good, Highness," he offered, taking another bite of his meal. "I admit, I did not think royalty would even offer help to their servants."

"That is because you are my companions, not my servants." Zelda replied. "And I prefer to treat you as such."

"You are a princess," the innkeeper growled between bites. "You are supposed to have servants."

"I am a servant to my country." Flames crackled, sending shadows flickering across the princess's face. "Not the other way around."

Abruptly, she set down her wooden plate, and stood up. "I do not feel right eating here," she began, "when a man, a subject of Hyrule and one of those I was meant to serve, lies dead because of me." She stared beseechingly from Demon to Kashi.

"He did not die because of you, Princess." The innkeeper did not look at the assassin, though the phrase was directed towards him.

Demon did not move, already having enough guilt upon his conscience.

"But he did." Zelda gestured helplessly. "They were too scared to think, Kashi. Jon had terrified them with his stories and if I could have only talked to them." She sighed. "We could have escaped Kakoriko without bloodshed."

The assassin stirred. "There is nothing further you can do for the man I killed." His eyes glinted up briefly. "He is dead and gone."

Suddenly determined, the princess clenched her fists. "Yes! There is something. Let us at least give him the Rite of Passage, so he may enter the Sacred Realm."

"They will be giving the butcher a proper funeral in the village, if that's what you mean." Kashi reminded her, but the princess would not be dissuaded.

"Then let their prayers aid ours, in speeding him onwards."

The cave was silent for a moment before Demon, too, set down his dish and rose to his feet. "The butcher was a man too good for the Dark Realm," he acknowledged haltingly. "I will aid you in saying the rite."

Reluctantly, Kashi copied his movements. "And I."

The princess smiled, picked up a handful of sand from the cave floor, and tossed it into the fire. "Farewell," she whispered as a gust of wind whistled through the flames, signaling the beginning of the ritual.

She stepped back to her place and watched Demon and Kashi toss in their own handfuls of sand. The wind was constant now, tugging at clothing, hair, and the individual tongues of fire which danced frantically against its pull. Words floated upwards from deep inside her, the ancient Hylian rite for the dead which had been chanted at both her parents' funerals, and would someday be orated at her own.

"Fate is defined," she breathed, "in this world of men, by King and Goddess."

The fire swelled in front of her, licking hungrily at the encircling sand.

"Order and chaos," Kashi's rough baritone continued.

"Darkness and despair." Demon's gaze was centered on the princess, even as the sacred words rasped from his lips.

"Light and love." Zelda smiled back, a weight lifting from her shoulders and conscience.

"Dawn and dusk," added Kashi.

"Blood and dirt."

"Water and sky."

"Summer and winter."

"Anger and hate."

The flames roared higher now, infused with blue radiance. They seemed to touch the cavern ceiling, even though only a few logs still burned in the charred pit. Zelda could almost see the giant gates opening before them as a single soul walked forward into eternal paradise.

"Light and love," she whispered.

Kashi's eyes were wide as he studied the column of flame. The silent interaction of wind and fire brought Zelda's words to him unhindered, and he somehow found the next line.

"Master and Servant."

There was a pause, and both innkeeper and princess looked to Demon. The assassin had gone completely white, his eyes focused deep within the vision on something just inside the open gates. "Dream and nightmare," he grated.

"Living and Dead." Zelda finished.

The ritual was complete, and the illusion vanished before them, receding into their exhausted camp fire. Before Kashi or the princess could even move, Demon grabbed his bed-roll and ran from the cave, unable to comprehend what he had seen beyond the Sacred Gates. He needed the solitude of darkness, and though he could not leave the princess, it was too painful to stay within the circle of light cast from the fire.

The other two watched him leave; recede into the maze-like boulders which littered the slopes. Neither could fathom what had disturbed the black-clad warrior, but they did not chase him into darkness. It would be useless to follow the assassin into his own domain.

Demon threw his bedroll onto the ground and slumped upon it, feeling the harsh granite press through the thin material. What he had seen among the flames was impossible, and yet doubts tugged at his soul, ripping at his surety. The past, which had finally begun to recede into the void beyond, pulled memory after memory into the web which threatened to ensnare him. Golden hair. Blue eyes. A figure stared at him from beyond the gate, dwarfing the butcher's soul in its significance.

The assassin hissed silently, phantom images in the darkness twisting his haunted eyes. Ganondorf had survived the destruction of the time line, safe inside his prison in the Dark Realm, or else his minions would not have risen again. But not Zelda...

When he had opened his eyes on that first day of his second life, Demon had known that the princess was dead. The havoc she had wreaked upon her own time line was so precise, so carefully designed that nothing could have escaped. Yet the assassin had seen her, a single soul in the crowd of thousands beyond the gate, radiating sadness at the twisted state of the hero she had once known. The man that, Link had dared hope, she loved.

Demon slammed his fists into the rock beside him, but neither the pain nor the blood could stop the memories from surfacing. They were dead, but not gone, hidden, but never destroyed.

_The night was a black canvas, billowy and dark to the point of nothingness, yet intimate in its close familiarity. From the fields below, villagers looked up to the unclouded sky and wondered at how close it had come to their humble existences. From the top of Death Mountain, it was almost possible to reach out and touch it, to stretch just a little farther and disappear into its glorious darkness like a single leaf in the Great Forest. In fact, Link could have been carried away into that sky, upon which a million stars blazed with fiery brilliance, if he had not been anchored by Zelda's hand upon his, holding them both to the mountain-top._

_"Impa says that each one is the soul of a great warrior, honored by the Goddesses for their deeds." Zelda murmured, pointing to the tiny spots of light above. She was lying on her back, looking up into a night sky, content in the presence of the Hero of Time, Link, lying beside her. They had managed to escape her retinue and bodyguards for an hour, maybe two, and had been unable to resist the mysterious allure of the mountain peak beneath a cloudless sky._

_Link smiled, bright blue eyes cloaked by the darkness, but shining just the same. "Impa's right. They are the spirits of the bravest fighters Hyrule has ever had, sometimes." He turned towards the princess and winked. "I can feel them watching over us."_

_But Zelda's eyes were far away, searching from star to star like a traveler without a destination. "Do you think," she mused. "That someday we will join them, for saving Hyrule?"_

_"If the Goddesses will it," the Hero of Time sighed, "But I'd rather not think about death just yet."_

_It was Zelda's turn to look towards him, her delicate features shadowed in the starlight. "Why not?" she breathed into the darkness. _

_Link's hand tightened on hers, but it was long before the warrior answered Zelda's question. The world, the very ground seemed to disappear beneath them as princess and hero floated up into the endless sky. "Why not?" laughed Link, feeling her slim fingers inside his own. "We saved the world, Princess. I think maybe we deserve a few years on it before we depart. And besides," his voice grew serious. "I wouldn't want to lose you again."_

_"You never did," Zelda smiled,__ "I was there all along, if only you'd seen me under that Shiekan cloak."_

_Link sighed. "I thought you were dead, Princess. Lost to me forever like so many others who perished during my seven years in the Sacred Realm."_

_Minutes passed as the two Destined searched the stars above them, remembering the terrible struggles they had endured to free Hyrule. Then Zelda sat up, pulling Link with her. "Let's make a promise," she whispered, moonlight faintly glowing off her shadowed tresses. "In case we are separated again, and know we can never find each other until the grave takes us." Urgency laced her voice, adding vulnerability to its soft words. "Vow that you will wait for me Link, until I can join you, so that even death will never destroy us."_

_"I will wait," Link vow__d,. "At the sacred gates until my princess comes or the world itself ceases existence. This is my promise."_

_"And if I am taken from this world before my hero," Zelda responded. "I vow to wait at the Sacred gates forever, or until he finds me. Come, shadow. Come, flame. I will wait. This is my promise."_

_The warrior traced his finger down the side of Zelda's smile, her happiness reflected in his eyes. "Now," he murmured, as he helped her gently to her feet, and they set off back down to the Goron City. "Let us hope we will never be separated."_

Demon's eyes flew open. _She was waiting for him._

_---------------------------------_

Hey! Sweet! I actually worked in some romance for all you romantics out there. Of course it's flashback, so I kinda cheated. But you can forgive me right?

Please?


	50. Chapter 50

Hey, once again it's been a long time, and I apologize for that. I don't have half the amount of time I used too, and I have to spend more and more of my writing time doing "serious things" with publish potential. (not that I'm gonna get published soon, but it can't hurt to try right?)

anyway, hope all of you guys out there are doing good, and writing your own stuff. You know if anyone wants to give advice on my story (or wants advice on theirs) just send me a message and we can have some good ol-fashioned editing fun. It's always cool to here from you guys, especially the ones who've been around for a while.

Meaning you Vlad, and a couple others.

P.S. I GRADUATE IN A WEEK!!

Yes!

My Name is Darkness

In the night there are things in the darkness

Under beds, over doors, hanging round, under floors

The world is always smaller in the darkness

God says he found us in the darkness

Gnashing teeth, clicking jaws, muffled screams, scraping claws

Things are always secret in the darkness

Why does fear always grow in the darkness?

Watching eyes, dark haunts, frozen hearts, whispered taunts

Hope can't be seen in the darkness

Hello, my name is darkness

I don't need a face in the darkness

Come to embrace in the darkness

See my world in the darkness

Of my night

Chapter 50

It was a long time before Zelda fell asleep.

She could hear Kashi's heavy slumbering breaths behind her, and the night-crickets chirping merrily amongst the boulders. She could hear water trickling in the creek, and wind whistling through the gully. And somewhere beyond the cave she could hear gravel shifting under the restless feet of the assassin.

The sound had not ceased since Zelda had first noticed it, and she had begun to give up hope that it ever would. Haunted by the night's events, Demon could not sleep, and consequently, neither could Zelda. She tossed and turned and tried to follow Kashi's advice to leave the black-clad warrior alone, only to find that the bitter rhythm of foot-falls had become ingrained into her head. Each step echoed with a pang of guilt that Zelda knew she could not bear for long. .

Once again, she had no idea what had triggered the assassin's reaction, or what would help him recover. Frankly, the princess was getting frustrated by the amount of things she did not know about her companion, in direct contrast to the number of things he seemed to know about her. She had lived with the man for months, and yet the assassin was still an unsolved mystery.

_Crunch…Crunch…Crunch…_

The faint sound of footsteps, never speeding up, never faltering, echoed in Zelda's mind. No matter what she distracted herself with, it always came back to that, and she felt Kashi's warning fading from importance. The innkeeper was not a Destined, like Demon and her. He was not fated to save the world, or to destroy it.

Zelda slipped from her bedroll and into the darkness. _Some burdens_, she thought,_ must not be borne alone._

The princess was hardly able to see past her own hand stretched ahead of her as she emerged from the cave into the confused shadows beyond. Each of her steps seemed so loud it made her flinch, and yet it was all she could do to keep her footing in the moonless black. Where was Demon? Zelda did not know, his footfalls had ceased as soon as hers started.

She forged onwards anyways, tripping over unseen obstacles constantly. Inside the cave, the princess had determined the assassin's general direction, and she stumbled towards it as best she could. The sound of rushing water in the background laughed at her efforts. Or so it seemed to Zelda.

She walked over the place where she had heard him once, and then doubled-back to check again. There was neither sight nor sound of the elusive assassin, and Zelda realized that he was now hidden somewhere in the blackness watching her. Something told the princess she could continue the search till dawn, without ever coming near to the elusive Demon. In exasperation she began to whisper into the darkness.

"I know you're there Demon. You can hide from me, but I wish you wouldn't." Her eyes searched the darkness unceasingly for sign of the assassin.

"Why can't you talk to me?" The princes ventured. "It might help."

Silence.

The princess sighed. "But you don't talk, do you? You never trust anyone with your secrets. We don't know you, we don't know where you came from. We don't even know your name."

Something moved at the corner of Zelda's vision, but she twisted too slow to catch it.

"And now you sit here in the darkness, the place from which you say you cannot escape. Well, I'm here to help you, if you will let me."

Once again, a flash of movement turned the princess's head, but to no avail.

"Demon?"

Silence.

Zelda rubbed a scratch on her leg and began to get annoyed. The assassin's stubbornness made him perfectly willing to sit alone in the night and wrestle with his sins, despite the pain it inflicted upon him.

"Fine." The princess whispered. "Hide all you want. But know that I am not going back to the cave until you're ready to show yourself. In fact, I'm going to keep on walking and tripping and bumping into things until then. Be it upon your head if I fall into a hole and kill myself."

And she did. Oblivious to her surroundings, Zelda took five angry steps forward. Only five, because that was when a hand snaked from the darkness and caught her shoulder.

"One more step," Demon's voice came floating from behind her, "And you'll be swimming in the stream."

Zelda caught the hand with her own before the assassin could slip away, and turned to face him. Once again, she realized how much the assassin's outline seemed to blur with the surrounding shadows, and the fact disturbed her.

"So I wasn't just talking to myself!" The princess hissed, glaring at him.

"I just wanted to be alone." Demon ran his free hand through his unkempt blonde locks, averting a stare which had again become pre-occupied.

"You cannot fight this battle alone." Zelda replied. "By yourself you will be destroyed."

Demon avoided her eyes. "It is my burden to bear. I cannot tell you."

"Why not?"

An answer did not come immediately, and when it did the assassin seemed to have completely forgotten their argument.

"What do you think of the stars, Princess?"

Zelda looked up in puzzlement, and gasped. A perfect night sky had appeared from behind the fading clouds, an infinite tapestry which seemed to cover the entire world. The princess could not remember the last time she had seen stars and she had forgotten how breathtaking it was to peer into an endless oblivion scattered with shining jewels. Then she realized that Demon was avoiding her question.

"Truly beautiful." Her eyes narrowed. "But why can't you tell me."

"Because seven years ago I saw these same stars, like this, on this mountain." His shape faded into the blackness, making the next words seem to come from the shadow itself.

"And so did you."

Totally confused, the princess took a step forwards towards where she had last seen Demon. "You are mistaken. I've been to this mountaintop only once in my life, two years ago on a diplomatic mission to the Gorons."

Demon sighed, a long drawn out sound in the darkness. "That is why I cannot tell you."

Zelda ignored him. "What did you see during the ritual?"

"Do not make me tell you, Princess." His voice was strained. "Please."

"Why not."

A movement from the side made Zelda whirl, before her eyes focused on Demon. He had removed the gauntlet from his left hand, and so when he placed it against the side of Zelda's face it felt warm and soft, unlike the steel which usually covered it.

"Because it has destroyed me, and I do not wish it to destroy you."

They stood like that, for a moment. The assassin's eyes so full of pain that Zelda felt tears slide down her own cheeks. She had to help him, there must be something she could-

Abruptly, Demon's face twisted and his hand fell away like lightening. "Goodbye princess." He whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The he disappeared back into the shadows.

But this time Zelda did not call out, or follow him. Indeed, for the longest time she moved only to touch the spot where his hand had lain against her face.

Dawn rolled quickly over the mountains. It stole across the sky, sweeping onwards to Kakoriko and beyond like the Goddesses' own messenger. But upon the same wings could also be heard the sound of a thousand Aratian boots marching forth to spread their stain across Hyrule.

The sun seemed out of place in the cloudless sky, along with the summer warmth which melted the last of the snow. Buds, mere dots on ravaged branches, appeared overnight to herald the long awaited onset of Spring. Hyrule had been buried beneath the ice long past the normal season, and nature itself was yearning to regain lost time.

Within the cave, Kashi and Zelda slept long into the morning. In fact, they had dropped into bed only hours before the dawn, and nothing short of a miracle would have awakened them. The battle and the flight from Kakoriko had exhausted them completely, sapping reserves that Kashi and had never before used, and Zelda had not known she possessed. Great events, some glorious, some atrocious, were in motion across Hyrule, but the Princess and her guide slumbered on within their cave.

Beyond their shelter, a single bird, one of a tiny remnant of survivors, sang merrily. A spider skittered lightly across a strip of black cloth and then froze under a swiftly-passing shadow. Not a rock overturned, and yet a figure swept by up the streambed. It rushed between boulders and trees like a man possessed, and indeed, that was not far from the truth.

The sun moved higher in the sky until it hung directly over Death Mountain, turning the smoking peak's eternal halo a garish red. Far off into the distance, single threads of smoke marked the Aratian advance across Hyrule Field, lines of destruction woven across the horizon. Finally, the Princess stirred within the cave.

She was still grimy from their journey, and stank of dried blood, but these facts were driven from Zelda's mind as she walked from the sheltering cave and gazed into a landscape transformed. In a single day, Hyrule had shed the tortured cloak of winter, and burst forth with new life into the Spring. Water gushed in the stream, tiny blades of grass poked up from the mud, and the princess smiled with heart-felt joy. With the light and the open sky came the possibility of a future for her country, and an assurance that darkness, like winter, could possibly be overcome.

Then her smile slipped as Zelda's gaze fell to the empty bed-roll abandoned just beyond the boulder-choked stream. _What had he seen in the flames?_ _Why had he run?_

The princess knew Demon would not abandon her, his oath would hold whatever memories tortured him at bay, but that was hardly comfort.

Whatever Zelda had uncovered in the months in his company, the scars the assassin bore ran deeper still. They reached into the depths of his very soul, rooted in a darkness the princess wished she could remove. He kept dropping clues, the ocarina, tunic, and references to past events, but each time the assassin did so, his walls came back up before Zelda could discover enough to make sense of them. That was the way she would find him farther up the mountain. Once more reserved, guarded, a fortress upon which her questions would break like water.

Leather scraped upon stone, and Zelda turned to see Kashi emerge from the cave. His clothing was still rumpled from a night upon the sandy ground, but the big inn-keeper's eyes were brutally clear as his gaze found the abandoned bed-roll. The princess expected him to condemn the assassin, but somehow the expected words never came.

Instead, a massive hand descended upon her shoulder, and the princess grunted with effort. The inn-keeper's face, as she looked reluctantly up, held only sympathy.

"He'll be back," Kashi breathed, "Just give him time."

Zelda blinked at Kashi's sudden change of heart. "But he is the Demon. The man you once called the 'Devil Incarnate'. Have you changed your mind?"

Kashi sighed. "I lost my inn yesterday, along with everything I owned." He paused for a moment and chuckled tiredly.

"Perhaps I am starting to understand his rage."

Demon's pack, they discovered, as the two prepared for travel, was gone, even if his bedroll was not. Zelda could see the footprints which led back into the cave, and wondered once again at the assassin's unnatural stealth. She concentrated on burying the charred remains of their fire, and tried not to see the dark figure in her mind. Could she had persuaded him to return if she'd chased him into the darkness? Zelda knew the question would haunt her for the rest of the morning.

"I want to make it to the top of the pass today." Kashi said as he finished packing away the last of their food. "If the weather holds we should reach it by nightfall.

Zelda's imagination was not up to comprehending the staggering heights of Death Mountain, other distractions shattered her attempt. "I thought it would take two days at least." She managed weakly.

Shouldering his pack, the innkeeper sensed Zelda's doubt. "The pass is less than half the height of the mountain." He explained. "And the climb upon this side is relatively easy. It is getting into Termina that could prove difficult."

The Princess had heard tales of the rough trail which led back down from the pass into Termina, and the creatures which, even in the years before the Aratian invasion, had begun to congregate under the shadow of the mountain. The pass had become dangerous, and Zelda could only imagine what ravenous monster would be awakened by the receding winter to emerge into the light of a new day.

In fact, the less she thought about it, the better.

"Do not worry." Kashi anticipated her reaction. "Demon will have returned by then, and as long as he is with us I do not think we will have any trouble. Travellers inflate their stories, and merchants are worse. I do not think there is more in that pass than a few wolves and their Moblin riders. As long as we are careful, they will not trouble us."

The innkeeper stood up. "Which reminds me…"

Kashi took a long bundle from his back and began unwrapping it. Metal glinted dimly, coldly, as the last of the cloth fell away, revealing two beautifully crafted swords.

"Demon's bundle." Zelda said. "He was carrying it before the party when…" Her face heated briefly.

The innkeeper's face was inscrutable, but he raised the bundle towards the princess with an air of expectation.

"For me?" Zelda's face was filled with confusion.

"The assassin bought it for you. He wanted you to have it."

The princess took a step away from the bitter metal. "I have never used a blade in my life! What use would it be to me?"

"I think he meant to teach you how." Kashi replied.

"He meant…to teach me?"

"I do not know why." The bear-like man snorted, "I have never before heard of a sword-wielding princess."

But Zelda did not hear him, her mind still wondering if she had understood correctly. She had thought Demon's trip to the armory was to repair his weapons, nothing more. Now she knew differently.

And yet, this was the man the Aratians had dubbed Demon. The slayer of hundreds, champion gladiator of the Arenas. What would prompt him to want to instruct an inept princess in the arts of war? The sword repelled her, and yet she reached out to take it from Kashi's grip just the same. If Demon believed enough in her to provide a weapon, than she could accept it, if only for his sake.

"It is a good blade. I am betting Husam did not part with it easily." The innkeeper's eyes clouded at the mention of his dead friend. "And by the crafting, I would say it was made for a noblewoman."

Studying the weapon's handle doubtfully, Zelda frowned. "How can you tell?"

"Narrow grip. Slightly curved blade." He pointed to each feature as he spoke. "It is also much lighter than a normal sword, meant to be wielded with less strength, but more agility."

Zelda nodded, and began to pack the sword away once more, but a massive hand upon her arm forced her to stop. She looked up into Kashi's solemn eyes.

"That sword is his gift to you. He will want to see you wearing it."

The innkeeper took the sword from her grip. "Here, I will help you buckle it on."

And so, the Princess of Destiny found herself venturing from the cave a few minutes later, with the alien weight of a sword hanging from her left hip. To her, it was painfully conspicuous, a presence both unfamiliar and terrifying. For what did a sword mean, but a willingness to the shed blood? Zelda felt her stomach curdle at the thought, but she felt no urge to remove the weapon from her side.

A premonition told her she would need it in the days to come.

The sun had nearly passed the mid-day mark when the two companions finally returned to the main path. Both had not slept enough, and were feeling the drain of a night spent escaping from Kakoriko Village, but the threat of pursuit forced them to continue. In addition, they needed to find the assassin, and his path led directly up the mountain.

After their campsite, the mountain curved steeply upward towards its peak, in a grinding test of stamina and physical endurance. The few trees and bushes continued to disappear until all that was left in the companion's view was naked rock, forever rising towards the heavens. To compound the surreal nature of the scene, ancient lava flows had left behind heaps of razor-sharp basalt, and hollow rock tubes at regular intervals. At one point the trail even entered one of the tubes, and Zelda had to choose her steps carefully among the jagged volcanic shards.

The two companions progressed higher into the mountains and the land changed again, rising up on both sides as the path ran along the bottom of a dry stream-bed through the lava flows. Roaring waters had carved a narrow slot-canyon into the rock, and Zelda and Kashi crept along its bottom like insects in a ditch. With some amusement, Zelda noticed that it was now the inn-keeper who was struggling to keep the pace; his massive shoulders did not quite fit within the breadth of the canyon. Laughing to herself, she almost ran into Kashi's back as the man stopped abruptly. He had seen something, but the trail was too narrow to allow Zelda to look past her companion to whatever he had discovered.

That was until he uttered one word, like a curse, in a deep growl.

"Demon!"


	51. Chapter 51

Man, that took a long while to get posted. Sorry about the wait, and frankly, sorry that not much happens in this chapter. I just finished writing a later one that was pretty long, and when i looked back at this one i realized how mediocre it was. I promise to get the next one out faster, and it will be better. I promise.

Anyway, don't take it too badly. You have my promise.

And thanks for all the encouragement I've been getting in reviews. i really appreciate it, even if I can't answer all of them.

Chapter 51

The princess could tell it was a body, but beyond that she could discern nothing about the gory mess which lay before her. It appeared to have claws, tusks, even hooves, though the state of the corpse made it hard to tell. Zelda felt bile rise in her throat, realizing where the blood on the canyon walls had come from, and how much must have been shed to stain the whole area a crimson hue.

Kashi was not as moved. His face contorted in hatred and he spat upon the broken mess, before turning his back upon it. "We will talk farther along the trail." He rumbled grimly. "This is not a fitting place."

Zelda shook herself, trying to break the spell which seemed to have been cast upon her by the horrible sight. It reminded her of the wolves in Kakoriko forest, and how their corpses had looked so similar to what she was now walking past. It was as if…

She shivered again. Had Demon lost himself? Few other things in the mountains would kill with such recklessness, and such creatures had never been found on the Hylian side. Besides, Kashi seemed sure it was the assassin's work, and Zelda could not really doubt his conclusion.

The body disappeared around a corner, and then two more as Kashi let the princess farther up the trail. Even so, Zelda refused to look back, scared that the vision of death and gore would have somehow followed them. She was trailing the innkeeper so closely that she almost tripped over his heels, and this time when he stopped, she did run into him.

"Are you alright princess?" The innkeeper asked, turning to face Zelda, who, cheek red with embarrassment, had stumbled back against the canyon wall.

"Yes. Fine." She said, then abruptly changed the subject. "What happened back there?"

Kashi refocused with a frown and cast a quick glance back down the trail. "I do not know exactly, but I can guess." He checked over his shoulder again. "Though it is a dark possibility I foresee."

"You think Demon has gone back to the shadows." Zelda read the accusation in his eyes.

"I can only guess, but that is what I suspect." Pain was written across the innkeeper's face, but it was not for himself.

"Then you are wrong!" The fury in her voice surprised even the princess. "He has changed too much for that to happen!"

"No sane man would have committed that-" Kashi paused. "Atrocity. Even to a moblin."

"And so would you judge him." Zelda's voice was low and dangerous, like the hiss of a viper coiling for a strike.

"I am not judging him. That is who is his." This time there was not malice in the innkeeper's eyes, and Zelda's anger subsided enough for her to realize she agreed.

"But he is changing. Demon is an entirely different person than he was when I first met him. We are saving him from himself Kashi."

"_You_ are saving him." The innkeeper's reply was quick. "I just hope he does not realize it too soon."

Zelda's eyes narrowed as she finally realized what Kashi had called Demon's victim. "That…thing, was a moblin?"

The innkeeper was all to eager to change the subject. "A fairly large one by my guess. I have never before seen one on this side of the mountain." He lowered his voice measurably. "It is also strange to only find one of the creatures. Usually they travel in groups."

"Do you think Demon was captured?" The princess's blue eyes were as wide as they could possibly be as she considered the possibility. "Maybe they are chasing him?"

But Kashi had already turned away and was staring fixedly at the trail. The soft sand was imprinted with the confused marks of many passages, although the companions knew the melting snow had wiped the trail clean only the day before. Something had passed through, only a few hours in front of them.

"I think," Kashi announced in a grim whisper, "He is chasing them!"

And he pointed to a single set of tracks, more recent than the others, which ran down the middle of the canyon and off across the mountains. The steps were placed so far apart it seemed that the assassin must have almost flown, only placing his feet upon the ground to mock those he chased. Looking at the trail, Zelda conjured a vivid image in her mind's eye. She could see the assassin, the silent snarl, his blades drawn, driven by the incomprehensible terror of the prey which ran before him.

But only until Demon's eyes came into focus and everything else fell away and the princess was falling into darkness and fire and then through and beyond…

When the trail again came into view, she was clutching the rock wall for support, and Kashi had stepped forward to support her.

"I'm sorry." Zelda whispered. "There is something wrong in this place. I feel the essence of pain in these very rocks."

The innkeeper took her arm and pulled her lightly down the trail. "Then come princess, it will only fade as we get farther away."

"Its source is not behind us." She whispered, but her words were lost to the dank stone walls.

The two companions trudged on, trying to leave the scene of death and pain far behind in the suffocating confines of the slot canyon. In the narrow world between two rock walls there was only one way for them to run, and yet the possibility of ambush did not even cross their minds. Their vanguard was Demon, Butcher of Aratia, and he left only blood in his wake.

And yet sometimes the aftermath of a nightmare is just as painful as the dream itself, for one cannot walk through the carnage of the damned without having participated, in some way, to their undoing.

Twice more they passed bodies strewn carelessly across the blood-stained grit. Both had been stabbed in the back, unable to keep ahead of the presence which chased them relentlessly through the canyon. Zelda knew that the corpses were only precursors of more to come, and the knowledge filled her with dread. If Demon had truly lost himself, than the string of bodies would continue until the assassin himself dropped from exhaustion, or the last moblin ceased to breath. Whichever came first.

The trail wound on for a while further, until a deformed twist in the canyon wall blocked the companion's vision. It was an ideal place to stop for a rest and Kashi grudgingly complied, letting the weary princess slump against a rocky outcrop and catch her breath. Strained by steadily rising trail and a mental foreboding which she could not shake, Zelda huddled down against the rock and closed her eyes. The smooth, lava-formed rock was cool against her back, and for one single blessed moment she relaxed into it and ignored Kashi's impatient pacing.

The innkeeper gave her as long he could allow, but the innkeeper was not by nature a patient man, and there was still much distance to cover before the end of the day.

Zelda's eyelids fluttered open as her companion quietly cleared his throat, and she reluctantly levered herself to her feet. Immediately, the unpleasant sensation of being covered in blood and grime flooded back, along with her worries about Demon's plight somewhere ahead of them. But the determination in her eyes had not been crushed, and so she continued forward.

Many times in the ensuing trek the princess found herself wishing for a way out of the canyon, which seemed to stretch eternally into the mountains, but the sheer water-carved walls offered no promise to any would-be climber. The innkeeper had already informed her that he had chosen the path for their own protection, judging it saver than the wider caravan trail which ran completely exposed for miles along the mountain rim, and yet Zelda still yearned to leave its confines. The mutilated moblin bodies behind them had forever polluted her memories of the place, and the sights which still awaited her would ruin it completely.

The sun had left their vision long before, and shadows covered all but the upper rim of the gorge when the companions stopped again. This time the dank coldness of the rock did not appeal to the princess and she elected to remain standing, the beginnings of a shiver wracking her tired frame. "He can't be too far ahead." She yawned, wondering how far Demon had actually run before overtaking his quarry, before quickly blocking the consequent images from her mind. It would take little imagination to see what Demon would do to the moblins once he caught them, and the very thought revolted her.

Distracted, she did not see the object of her thoughts approach until he was almost on top of her. Her eyes widened like saucers, and Zelda bit down on a short scream that almost bubbled out anyway. She had been so absorbed in pursuing the assassin that she had completely discounted the possibility that he would come to them. In fact, she was so surprised she almost tried to blast him with a Triforce-induced lightening bolt.

"Hello Demon." Kashi's rough voice broke the stillness. "I trust you caught your moblins then?" He sounded almost amused, and Zelda studied the innkeeper's face out of the corner of her eye, wondering what was funny about being almost scared to death by a man who had spent his day killing moblins.

"They will not trouble you." His answer was vague enough, but Zelda's stomach flipped anyway at its implication. The man before her was not the same one that had gazed up at the stars the night before, the sad, troubled young man burdened by his memories. Sometime during the night the killer had returned, and it was he who now stood confidently upon the path. The princess felt sick.

"Good. I always hated the creatures." His voice relentlessly cold, the innkeeper unshouldered his pack and let it drop ungracefully to the ground. "You've led us on a merry chase Demon."

"It was necessary." The answer was abrupt and brooked no argument. "These mountains are crawling with the Dark One's monsters and I could not let them escape to gather a force against us."

Zelda frowned in confusion. "Where did they come from? Moblins haven't been a problem on this side of the mountains in centuries!"

"It's a sign of the times." Demon grinned coldly. "Evil is moving."

"And so should we." Kashi lifted his pack to weary shoulders with a groan. "We can continue this conversation while we walk." Hardly waiting for Zelda and the assassin to do the same, he turned and began to plod onwards through the canyon. With noticeable reluctance, the other two followed.

The princess was finally getting over the shock of Demon's sudden appearance, and with the return of her senses came frustration. She increased her pace to match his, and, though the canyon's narrow walls made it impossible to walk side-by-side, she pulled close behind.

But Kashi broke in before Demon could answer, and his voice had an edge that neither Destined could ignore. "What do you mean, the Dark One's creatures?"

The princess immediately stiffened and looked pointedly at the assassin.

The assassin turned towards him. "You have not guessed yet? I'm sorry, but I assumed you knew."

"Knew what?" This time, the words were definitely growled.

"That we have reached the end of an age," Demon explained. "And the reckoning is coming. The Cycle has turned and allowed evil back into the world, in the form of the Dark One and his army of monsters."

The ensuing silence was so charged that Zelda could almost feel the tension thickening between her companions. For a moment, she was afraid that the innkeeper would erupt into violence, but then Kashi laughed, and both he and Demon seemed to deflate.

"So the world is ending," He mused. "And judging from the pretty tattoos you both try so hard to hide, I would guess that you two are the only ones who can save it."

He paused and shook his head. "Goddesses! How did I ever agree to this!"

Zelda finally shook herself free of her reverie and walked over to lay a hand on Kashi's shoulder. "I am sorry for not telling you." She whispered. "We did not think we could trust anybody, and I at least," she glanced at Demon. "Thought you had already guessed."

The innkeeper sighed and slumped against a rocky outcropping. "Explain." Was all he said, and both Destined were happy to oblige. They did not know much about the inescapable forces which had gripped both of their lives, but the little they had learned was told to Kashi. Mostly it was Zelda, with her royal education in history and the fate of Hyrule, who did the talking, but every few minutes the assassin would break in with something he had picked up during their journey. Some of his comments were so accurate that the princess began to wonder if he actually knew more than he was telling.

They started with the Cycle and its creation by the Goddesses during the birth of Hyrule, before moving to a description of the Hero of Time and Princess of Destiny that Demon and Zelda themselves were supposed to fulfill. But it was not until they touched on Ganondorf that the innkeeper interrupted.

"So he is the 'Dark One' you speak of?"

Zelda nodded. "He will control the whole world unless we stop him."

"He is the embodiment of evil." Demon affirmed, rubbing the back of his hand gingerly.

Shaking his head, the big innkeeper looked back and forth between his two companions. "And you are the only ones who can defeat him."

"Yes." Zelda said immediately, noticing that in this Demon did not support her. She placed her hand on Kashi's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "It is our Destiny."

The innkeeper shook off her hand, but nodded his head in agreement just the same. "We need to keep moving if we want to reach Termina. But-" he turned and glared at the two Destined. "We will talk more about this. Later."

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and by evening they had emerged from the slot canyon into a black, meaningless rubble. The volcanic rock had returned with a vengeance that slit the bottoms of their boots and lacerated their hands whenever they fell. But at least, according to Kashi, they had reached the top of the pass and were passing over into Termina. They made camp that night in the lee of a large boulderfield, with no more talk than was needed to cook the meal and coordinate watches between Kashi and Demon. The revelations of earlier in the day seemed to be forgotten, though Zelda was extremely sensitive to the air of unease that permeated the camp, along with the threat of being attacked during the night.

Demon especially seemed worried about that possibility. He made sure that nothing was unpacked beyond what was absolutely needed, and stowed it away as soon as it was used. It was as if he was expecting to have to run at any moment, and wanted to make sure he was ready.

Eventually, all three companions shivered off into asleep, worry succumbing to exhaustion inside their burdened minds. They had not lit a fire, and so the bitter cold seemed even harsher than usual as it crept inside their cloaks and blankets to their shivering bodies. All privately decided that it was one of the most uncomfortable nights of their lives, and the mutual hope would that somehow the morning would be better.


	52. Chapter 52

Hey, I kept my promise. Here's chapter 52, right one schedule. Hopefully I'll be able to post 53 in an even shorter period. But that really depends how long it takes me to write 56 (with my three chapter cushion).

I'm trying to make chapter longer, to compensate for how slow I seem to be posting them, but this one's still only 6 pages. Sorry about that.

Better than the last on though. :-)

Man this site has changed a lot in the last couple years, I barely recognize it any more, and I have no idea how to use all the features. It looks like Zelda fiction is becoming an antique...well, we were popular for a while...

Chapter 52

Kashi awoke first the next morning, into the biting cold and harsh surroundings of Death Mountain. He had not slept well in the forbidding conditions, and having spent half the night mulling over the Cycle and the end of the world had not helped. Some of it he had already guessed, but to hear his darkest fears confirmed had truly shaken the innkeeper. He was traveling in the grip of Destiny, and, from the stories he'd heard of such adventures, the people in his position usually ended up dead.

He looked over to where his companions slept. It amazed him how peacefully Zelda could sleep knowing the fate of the world hung around her neck. She had been betrayed, deposed, chased half-way around the country, and yet had not cracked, despite the pressure. Demon had broken under the strain long before, Kashi knew, but Zelda…

Zelda was stronger than either of them.

Kashi sighed and looked away, distracted by his crystallizing breath in the crisp morning air. He sort of wished he was back at his inn, serving up drinks and threatening the rowdier patrons, back in a different life which was quickly becoming a memory. Two days before, he had been an innkeeper in a town that, except for being in the process of freezing solid, was a thoroughly enjoyable place. It was a far-cry from his present situation.

He looked back at Zelda's sleeping form. It was so fragile, even wrapped in her blankets, most of Demon's blankets, and even the assassin's coat. So small, and yet so important.

Tired and frustrated, Kashi rubbed his face with massive hands, coarse stubble grating against calluses. He was not bitter against his two companions for involving him, they had not forced him into his present position, and they had not tied the knots which bound him to their side. Besides, it was Kashi himself that had finally volunteered to guide them over the mountains.

"Well," He grunted to himself. "It could have been worse." His gaze focused on the assassin sleeping just outside the circle of their camp.

"I could have been you."

***

The second day the trail sloped ever downwards, a circumstance that allowed the companions to travel a farther distance, and yet hung heavy on their hearts. The descent may have been easier to endure than the grueling climb which their aching muscles remembered vividly, but each step was one step farther from Hyrule. Of the three, Zelda was most aware of the increasing distance between her and the country she had previously ruled.

To taker her mind off it, she tried to focus on Termina, and how she was going to convince its king to lend her his army. Technically, Termina and Hyrule were allies, but the treaties had not been renewed in over a hundred years, and Zelda secretly wondered how deep the bonds of loyalty truly ran. The Terminians would be loath to pit themselves against the massed forces of the Aratian Empire unless they truly believed there was no other choice.

Which was exactly what Zelda had to convince them.

The princess stumbled over a loose rock and nodded thanks as Kashi caught her arm. What was known in Termina about the Cycle, she wondered. Would they believe her if she claimed the Great Evil was loosed upon the world? Thinking back to her few encounters with Terminian dignitaries, Zelda could remember nothing of their religious beliefs, and that fact unsettled her. If they could not understand the importance of the events which surrounded them, than even the princess's formidable persuasion would not succeed.

Turning, Zelda looked at the innkeeper. "Have you ever been to Termina?" she asked.

Kashi gave her a strange look. "Many times, but I know only the border-town Silva, where the merchant caravans unload their baggage.

"What did you think of the town?" Zelda pressed, trudging along as the trail wound its way around an outcropping.

The innkeeper furrowed his brow. "It's a cramped, dirty place, surrounded by a high wall to keep out the occasional moblin raiders. More like a small city really, than a town, and I've never liked cities."

He squinted, looking off into the distance. "The people are different than Hylians, but not by much. A few strange traditions-" he shuddered. "I almost got myself married once."

Zelda nodded, not really listening to the innkeeper's answer. She was back to plotting Aratia's demise, and the devious paths her mind wandered were unfathomable by any else. Kashi continued, unfazed.

"She was a nice girl, but not exactly what I had in mind." Eyes staring off into the distance, he rambled. "It's a pity I had to leave town so quickly once her father found out."

He was cut off by a thin scream, which wafted its way up the mountain, jolting the companions back into the present.

Zelda's scheming was cut short in an instant. "Moblins!" She hissed, her hand fumbling for the alien sword-hilt on her hip.

"They've found other travelers." Knives glittering in his hands, the assassin tensed for a moment, and then relaxed. "That should distract them long enough for us to pass."

His brutality stunned the other two companions into silence, but not for long. "What do you mean pass, we have to help them!" The princess jumped in.

Demon turned and looked her in the eyes. "Do we?"

"Yes!" Zelda exploded, horrified at the assassin's callousness. "I would not leave even Gabriel to die at the hands of moblins! I-"She broke off, shocked that she had just referred to her former lover. Avoiding looking at Demon, she turned to the innkeeper. "Am I right Kashi?"

The bear-like man considered briefly, and then nodded agreement. "If we do not help, than we are no different than the Aratians."

Demon looked from one to another as if weighing something in his head. Another scream echoed from down the mountain, and then a shout and the ring of steel.

"If that is what you wish." His eyes were on Zelda, rather than the innkeeper. "Then let us rush to the fight and hope that you at least know how to draw that sword, princess." He gestured to her waist.

Zelda grasped the hilt self-consciously, and yet did not pull. It was the first mention Demon had made of his gift in the two days she had worn it, and the princess honestly wished it was under different circumstances. So many questions still ran through her mind, and yet she could not ask them while moblins killed innocent travelers.

"I'll do what I can." She hedged, before turning to the innkeeper. "Lead on Kashi."

"Then come." The big man broke into a run. Zelda moved to follow, but a hand on her shoulder spun her to look into the assassin's eyes. Like always, they were almost completely unreadable.

"If it is Gabriel down there, the moblins won't have to kill him." He turned and ran off after the innkeeper.

Slightly taken aback, Zelda wondered what exactly her bodyguard had meant. She had immediately regretted mentioning Gabriel, and the pain his name brought her was only doubled by the assassin's response to it. Besides, the princess realized as she began to run, she might have been lying about not letting him get killed.

Dodging the boulders which lay scattered across the pass, the three companions gradually converged on the battle raging below them. The ugly sounds of combat grew clearer and clearer until Zelda found herself certain that every corner they rounded would be the one to plunge them into the fray. And yet Kashi did not stop until they had almost reached the end of the valley, about to plunge into the next one.

"The echoes in this place are deceptive," the big man apologized. "I cannot get any closer without risking plunging us into the fight. From this point on we must be battle-ready."

Demon drew his knives, and the innkeeper rummaged impatiently through his pack before pulling out a heavy pouch which clinked with every movement. He opened it, and Zelda leaned forward curiously to see what weapon Kashi favored. Whatever it was, it fit into an awfully small bag for such a big man.

What he did pull out were two steel gauntlets, much like the assassin's except bigger. For a moment, the princess was confused, until the innkeeper slipped into his inventions, and Zelda saw the splinter of metal embedded into their knuckles. What Kashi was wearing were modified versions of what tavern brawlers referred to as "brass knuckles", known for the brutal way they cracked cartilage and bone.

Kashi finally noticed her attention and shrugged grimly. "These won't be much use against moblin swords and pikes, but they're better than nothing. My crossbow was too bulky to carry over the mountain."

"You'll need your sword too princess." Demon reminded Zelda, tapping the hilt with one of his knives.

Swallowing, she nodded. "Right." The weapon felt cold in her hand as she drew it's gleaming length from the scabbard.

Demon smiled, and raised one gauntleted fist in the air. "For Hyrule." He said.

"For Hyrule." Kashi and Zelda agreed, and followed him down the mountain.

They sprinted through one more boulder field before finding themselves on the edge of a seep bowl teeming with moblins. At the center, a tight circle of overturned wagons provided cover for their human occupants, who were protecting their lives and livelihoods with grim determination. The caravan guards thrust their pikes through gaps in the wagon, which a steady hail of stones from the merchants within the circle kept the monsters at bay.

It was a temporary standoff that could only end in death for the besieged humans. They had been surrounded and taken by surprise, the unlucky stragglers cut down where they stood by the vicious moblin attackers. In minutes the Terminians had been forced to terms with their own imminent death, and yet they were set on selling their lives dearly. None could have foreseen the arrival of salvation in the form of three travelers sprinting over the lip of the mountain.

Omar, Captain of the Merchant Guard, was a man of the sword, and had always believed that someday he would die upon one. And yet now that the moment was fast approaching, he had quickly realized how little he wanted that prophecy fulfilled. One moment he skewered a moblin with a ferocious thrust, and the next he ducked behind the barricade to avoid a retaliatory hail of arrows, snarling as one of his men fell transfixed. Omar did not want to die, and so when the surprised grunting of the Moblins made him again poke his head out over the wooden wagon to watch Demon and Kashi enter the fray, even the terror of their coming could not quell his smile.

The assassin's sanity had begun to desert him the moment he set foot into the valley, and by the time he reached it's bottom nothing of the man remained. He was the destroyer, a nightmare of wrath and vengeance that had descended out of a clear, blue sky to dole out unholy justice upon the assembled moblins. None could stand before him, and yet so great was the evil of his presence that the monsters mistakenly assumed that he was another of their master's creatures sent to lead them in his foul work. It was an assumption that caused them to waste precious seconds when they could have been running for their lives.

The question of allegiance was answered for the creatures when Demon took off the first one's head, and sent the still quivering body rolling down the hill. He managed to kill two more before a glancing blow from another's pike threw off his balance and sent him tumbling also. The moblin's victory was short-lived however, as Kashi's metal-clad fists crumpled it's skull like paper.

Grabbing the swarthy, pig-like creatures spear, the innkeeper followed his companion down. He lacked the skill of the assassin, but his sheer size made him a force to be reckoned with. For Kashi, accuracy was not important, wherever he hit the creature it was going to stay down.

Forced to react to a new threat, the moblins all but ceased their attack on the caravan and concentrated on getting out of Demon's way. The ferocity of his charge unnerved them, and only the harsh cursing and threats of their chieftains prevented them from breaking and running. Kashi and Zelda hurried along in the warrior's wake, both counting the forces arrayed against them and suddenly doubting the wisdom of their rescue attempt.

Omar was still peeking over the barricade, watching the rapidly approaching Demon with serious incredulity. His weapon lay forgotten at his side, the moblins having temporarily stalled their attack and his companions also were caught up in the sudden twist of fate. He had asked the Sky God to send an angel of war, Omar knew, but this, his gaze fixed on Demon, this was no angel.

Closer, the warrior of darkness came, and closer, until the raging death in his gaze seemed to fill the beleaguered Terminian's souls. Then, abruptly, the assassin reached them and Omar felt a breath of air against his face as the man vaulted into the center of the wagons.

In that instant, the merchant guard remembered not only their disregarded weapons, but also the possibility that the wraith in their midst might have come to kill them all. Within seconds, the assassin found himself surrounded by a ring of spears, and he snarled menacingly. Luckily, it was in these seconds that Kashi and Zelda scrambled ungracefully into the stand-off.

The princess immediately took stock of the situation.

She sidestepped a guard, slipped between the spears and Demon, and watched some of the rage fade from his eyes as they focused on her. He wasn't exactly calm, but now he would be at least coherent. "These men are not your enemies," She pleaded. "Don't kill them."

Tension wavered in the air for a moment until Demon shuddered slightly, and his knives disappeared into their sheaths. A presence had left him, or been subdued, and in it's place another rose up.

"My name is Demon." He announced gruffly to the Terminians. "And these are my companions Kashi and Zelda." He pointed to each in turn.

"We've come to rescue you."


	53. Chapter 53

Another chapter, another battle. It's the story of Demon's life. He fights, he kills things, then Zelda starts yappin' about some wishy-washy morality... It should remind him of this mother, but Demon can't remember his mother, can he? So sad.

So anyway, I'm making a push to get somewhere on this story, as I'm hoping to finish it within the year, that'll take some doing, as I'm pretty sure I'm still a good chunk away, but I'm gonna try anyway. Have fun reading!

Chapter 53

Omar stared incredulously at the assassin and his companions. "We've come to rescue you." The black-cloaked warrior had said, and Omar wasn't sure the man was entirely in control of his wits. And yet the captain instinctively sensed that the new-comer was quite different than anything he had come across before, and perhaps even more dangerous than the scores of surrounding moblins.

So when Demon looked him in the eyes and shouted "Charge!" The Terminian captain was the first to join him in a mad rush towards the still disoriented enemy. Kashi and the rest of the guardsmen followed a moment later, but even then it was only a handful that roared defiantly into the teeth of the storm. The moblin archers alone should have broken the charge, but, unfortunately for them, none could stand Demon's gaze long enough to aim.

Omar knew moblins were cowardly creatures at heart, and even as he ran bellowing towards his enemies he began to understand the assassin's plan. Demon was trying to scare the monsters into a rout, achieving what was impossible with numbers through sheer ferocity. It was a good plan, Omar noted as he plunged his spear into a seething mass of moblins, as long as it worked.

Zelda was yelling and screaming with the best of them as she sprinted onwards towards battle, and yet it was with some frustration she found herself falling behind the small knot of warriors. Later on she would wonder what exactly she would have done had she been leading the charge into a gauntlet of death and destruction, but for the moment she contented herself with some very unprincesslike cursing. At least until she tripped over the body of a fallen moblin and knocked the wind out of herself.

The air was rent with the cries of war, some triumphant, some despairing, some human, some monster. Steel ran on steel, whistling through the air to clang against shield or sword, and sometimes sinking into flesh. Fuelled by the courage of their captain, Omar, the Terminians gave a good account of themselves, but the day would not have been theirs if not for the insane terror inspired by their "rescuer".

The moblins could not stand before him, and as they turned to flee their unprotected backs provided juicy targets for the Terminians. In their haste to flee, two of the monsters actually stabbed each other, and several others were trampled under their brethren. Of course, behind the assassin the ranks closed once more and the merchant guards fought a hard, running battle to keep from being overwhelmed, but it was a small price to pay for the victory which was near at hand.

Until one single scream, one clear note of terror rose up above all the others, and Demon suddenly remembered the charge which ruled all others.

Zelda had stumbled to her feet already far behind the rest of the attack, and immediately realized how vulnerable her position was. Alone, and basically defenseless she stood no chance if the moblins caught sight of her. The merchant caravan without its guards was just as unsafe as where she stood, so the princess did the next best thing and dropped to the ground to play dead against the moblin corpse which had tripped her. Unfortunately, the only mildly injured moblin had been pulling the same ruse.

The creature grabbed Zelda by the throat and stumbled to his feet, ignoring her frantic screams as he fumbled for his weapon. The princess's sword clattered forgotten to the dirt as she clawed at the moblins soiled armor. Somewhere she heard Demon's rage-filled cries as he raced to save her, but Zelda knew, even as darkness gathered around the edge of her vision, that was too far away to help her.

Too weak to try calling up her Triforce magic, the princess pried one of the moblin's fingers from her neck and bit it. The creature recoiled in pain and Zelda crumpled to the ground, trying to catch her breath and spit out a piece of rancid flesh at the same time. It was only when she had rid herself of the offensive chunk that the princess closed a hand on the hilt of her sword and glared at the moblin.

It glared back, swinging a viciously curved sword dangerously close to her head. On the next strike, Zelda remembered her own weapon and parried clumsily. The sword was almost wrenched from her hands by the power of the moblin swing, and the numbing vibrations which traveled up the princess's arms almost caused her to drop it anyway. She was done for if the monster attacked again, but fortunately, it was then that Demon finally reached the struggle.

The moblin grunted as a dark streak of snarling, slashing fury collided with it, lifting the creature of its feet. It was dead, both of the Bwa Kell buried in its heart, before it hit the ground.

Behind it's corpse, the battlefield descended into horrified silence as the remaining moblins pondered the trail of mutilated bodies which led from the Terminians to the princess. During the space of one devastating instant all the fight seemed to have left them, or else they decided that the black-cloaked warrior who had killed so many of their brethren, was actually a compatriot of their heathen Gods and could not be defeated. Either way, the battle of seconds before had become a rout.

Wherever the Terminians went, the moblins retreated fleeing back to the caves and shadows from whence they had came. They still outnumbered the merchants two-to-one, but the creature's numerical superiority was forgotten in their rush to escape Demon's blade.

But for the assassin, the battle had been forgotten the moment Zelda's scream had echoed out the valley, and it was on her his attention was fixed. "What the Goddesses did you follow us for?" He snarled. "You were perfectly safe with the wagons!"

Zelda stuttered for an answer as she tried to defend herself. "I…I…I wanted to fight."

"And you were this close," He held two fingers apart and hissed. "To being dead. We should not have helped these merchants, your life is not worth protecting theirs."

Kashi appeared from behind him, still flourishing the spear he had stolen. The light of battle danced in his eyes, and though he bled from a dozen small wounds he seemed to feel none of them.

"Look at them run!" The big man grinned, "Look at those bastards run." He tried unsuccessfully to wipe the blade of his weapon on a thin patch of lichen, before looking respectfully at Demon. "Well done assassin."

It was a tentative peace offering against the distrust which still lingered between them, and the assassin grudgingly accepted it. "It was an honor to fight beside you." He returned the compliment with some measure of effort.

Abruptly, the innkeeper narrowed his eyes and stared at Zelda, realizing something about the conversation he had interrupted. "That was you screaming during the battle," He accused gruffly. "And that's why Demon…Oh Goddesses."

Zelda flushed with embarrassment. "I just wanted to fight." She argued.

"Oh, so that's why you dropped your sword and began to scream is it? Demon raised an eyebrow.

Left without answers, the princess just glared back.

As Omar reached them from across the battlefield, he hesitated slightly under the full force of Zelda's glare.

"I wanted to thank your Lordship," he bowed low to Demon, "For saving our caravan from the moblins." Tall as he was, the bow fell below the captain's waist.

Demon sighed, motioning the man to stand. "There are few I know who would have marched out against such great odds under the leadership of a madman. You and your men are worse than foolish," Omar looked slightly offended.

"Or very brave" Demon grinned.

"Very definitely the latter." Zelda said, still glaring at the assassin.

Kashi jumped in before any further arguments could transpire. "Were you and your company traveling to Kakoriko?" he asked the Terminian.

"We are the first caravan to attempt the mountain pass this year," Omar affirmed. "The snows made the mountains impassable for many months, but now the road is clear and we are taking the first shipments into Hyrule."

The innkeeper laughed. "At this rate, all your fine goods will be spoils for the moblins that swarm in these mountains. If you value your lives, turn back now."

Omar shrugged. "It is the risk the merchants take for the enormous profit to be had in the trade between our two countries."

"In these times," Demon broke in "Death is no longer a risk, but instead a certainty. If you persist in this madness none of your caravan will live to reach Hyrule. Indeed, unless you flee this place with the speed of wolfos, your corpses will rot within a few leagues of where we stand."

"But it is already noon and Silva is a day's march away!" Protested Omar. "If the moblins have the numbers you claim then they will overwhelm our camp in the night!"

"Than you must make Silva in a half-day, or forsake any chance of survival." Demon's countenance was as harsh as his words.

The captain sighed. "I do not know if what you suggest is possible, but it is better than waiting for our foes to return. " His gaze rose to Demon's face. "My comrades and I would be honored to have you three spend the night with us. Together we have a much better chance against another attack." He began to back away. "Forgive me, but time is pressing and I must ready the caravan for travel."

Cloak fluttering, he turned and began trudging over the bloodstained ground.

"If we are to believe you than there is no hope!" Zelda told Demon frustratedly.

"There is if we leave the merchants behind." The assassin growled, "But that's not an option is it princess?"

"No." Defiant, Zelda held her ground.

The black-cloaked warrior raised an eyebrow. "Even if it may cost us our lives?"

Her eyes glittered. "Would you rather live a coward?"

Kashi gave a short, barking laugh. "We will go wherever you decide princess, however bitter our friend may be about it. But now I think we should stop arguing and read ourselves for the miles ahead. Demon and I will find our packs…but Princess," He looked towards the merchants. "There are many women and tradesmen over there, and most are injured, or too scared to think straight. They need someone to lead them."

Zelda nodded, and took a step towards the caravan, before looking back at Demon. She weighed something within herself and the iron in her gaze softened. "Sometimes I forget how much you have done for me…Thank you for saving my life, again."

"I'm not worthy princess." He said, but his expression lost some of its anger. "Go help, but do not tell them who you are."

The blonde-haired girl tentatively smiled, and then continued on her way.

Kashi snorted, motioning the assassin to follow him. "You two are the oddest companions I've ever traveled with, destiny aside."

The scowling assassin shook his head. "She is too stubborn for her own good. It seems that she almost wants to throw her life away!"

They leaned forward to struggle up the steep hill leading back to the pass. Kashi was soon out of breath, and so Demon continued the talking.

"It is the same foolishness she shows now in helping these merchants. If she decides to remain with them, our corpses will be roasting over moblin fires by tomorrow morning!"

"Who can say?" The innkeeper forced between breaths. "Maybe those sons of donkeys will wait for easier prey."

Demon laughed. "They will find no easier."

The two companions reached the top of the ridge and turned to look out over the narrow valley. Below them, the stony ground was battered with dozens of moblin corpses, insignificant mounds that would soon be absorbed into the harsh mountainside. There were more moblin bodies than people in the caravan, and yet both Demon and Kashi knew instinctively that Gandondorf could spare thousands more without consequence.

Turning their gazes, they watched the merchants precariously tip a wagon back upright. Only two more remained slumped upon their sides on the rocky ground, but it was two too many for Kashi. "I begin to see your point." The innkeeper acknowledged, "With the merchants, we will never escape these mountains." He turned to the assassin. 'And yet you let the princess sway you into joining them so easily. Even the most beautiful woman is not worth your life."

Demon stiffened, until he saw Kashi's good-natured smile, which overlaid the other, more serious, concerns. Then he slumped and tore himself away from the view. "Some are." He finally muttered.

Kashi's eyebrows rose as he witnessed a side to the assassin he had suspected existed, but never seen. "We'll see if you still believe that tonight in the darkness with the moblins closing in."

The assassin laughed. "You forget my friend, I came from the darkness." A flash of red sparked in his eyes. "Now, let us get our packs…and Kashi?"

He looked up and smiled toothily at the big man, who shivered despite his size. "Yes?"

"No more jokes."

By the time they returned to the caravan Zelda had persuaded the merchants to hurry as fast as they ever had in their lives. She chided, consoled, urged, pleaded, and soon had everyone doing exactly what she wanted them to do. Even Demon, who was pressed into service helping Omar and his men dress their wounds.

The horses had all been driven off during the initial attack, but most had not strayed beyond the valley rim. This was a piece of luck for the merchants, who managed to catch enough of the beasts to pull five of the six wagons. The sixth they overturned and filled with the bodies of their dead before setting it alight, a funeral pyre for those who had fallen during the battle.

Finally, the caravan began its ponderous flight back down the mountain to the ceaseless cadence of groaning wagon wheels. The trail sloped ever downward, making the going easier than it could have been, and yet the faces of all stayed grim. They were still traveling slowly, too slow, and the sun was already sinking in the sky.

The merchants had retreated to the wagons as soon as the caravan began to move, finding even the illusion of protection preferable to the bare mountainside. One young couple who had survived the battle relatively unscathed, invited Zelda to join them, and she thankfully accepted their invitation. Though she tried to hide it, the battle had shaken the princess, making her tired both mentally and physically. She longed to crawl into the dark confines of the cart and sleep for the remainder of the day, but knew that her own exhaustion was secondary to keeping the merchants from losing hope and giving in to their fear. The princess had to be strong so the Terminians would be strong; already they looked to her for support.

Jagged rocks loomed on either side as Zelda peeked through a gap in the canvas wall, wishing dully that she had never heard of moblins. Once again, her journey had turned into a race against time, one that Zelda desperately hoped she would win. Farther up in the column, she could see Demon and Kashi talking with Omar, and wondered what they were discussing. The princess felt guilty for dragging her companions first into battle, and then into the merchant's flight, entwining their fates with those of the hapless Terminians. Demon, Zelda knew, was only aiding them because she refused to leave.

A small cough interrupted her musings, and the princess pulled her head back into the wagon. The couple, whose names she did not even know, were staring at her with open curiosity. A lot of questions were in the making, and Zelda faced them with tired resignation.

They asked her name and where she was from, and the princess told them the dark tale of Lady Ariana, daughter of a minor noble, who had barely escaped with her life and her two retainers from the Aratian assault. They asked why she was traveling over the mountains, and she told them of distant relatives in the Terminian Court with whom she hoped to stay. Then the conversation turned to what was truly on the hearts of the merchants, the battle that they had just survived, and Zelda's doubts temporarily disappeared as she reaffirmed that her choice had saved the lives of the couple before her.

Their named were Corwin and Elayne she learned and neither had ever encountered a moblin before that morning. Corwin was a tall, yet skinny man, who looked barely more than a youth, but the fire in his eyes was hot as he described hurling rocks into the ranks of the monsters with all the strength he could muster. His wife Elayne stayed mostly quiet and listened to her husband, small hands clenched tightly in her lap.

"If I had known how dangerous it was to travel these mountains," Corwin remarked, "We never would have come. We were told there was gold to be made in the Hylian markets, and like fools we rushed to join this caravan." He looked at his wife who finished for him.

"The wagon and our dyes are all we have. If we were to lose it here in the mountains, I do not know what we would do."

From her seat across from the couple, Zelda knew that losing the wagon was the least of the couples worries, but she also knew that it was not the time to explain that to them.

"What part of Termina are you from?" She asked instead.

"Our town is near the capital," Corwin relaxed a little as he spoke and the memories softened reality. "It is too small to be put on any of the maps."

"But we have our own mill!" Elayne burst in eagerly. "And an inn!"

Smiling, Corwin placed his hand over hers on the wooden bench between the. " A good inn." He agreed. "Maybe when we leave these mountains the town council will have finished bickering over prices and will start building a temple. Then we will be a real town."

The princess surveyed him curiously, "Do you worship the Goddesses in Termina?"

Corwin shook his head emphatically. "Some do in the larger cities, but the country folk have given their hearts to the Maiden of the Moon."

"May she forever put stars in the sky and dreams in our slumberings." Elayne continued solemnly, completing some kind of ritual.

Zelda felt unsure how to break the following silence, but thankfully, Elayne did it for her. "We're not going to escape these mountains, are we?" she said quietly.

Stricken, the princess avoided the expectant face in front of her, only to see the same dismal question in Corwin eyes.

It depends on many things," she bluffed, "How far we get before nightfall, how many moblins there are in these mountains, and, most importantly," she tried to smile, "Whether the Maiden of the Moon is smiling on us tonight."

It was Corwin's turn to pale, the jolting movement of the wagon knocking him from side to side. "She was almost gone the night before last. She will not be with us tonight."

"Than we will rely on luck." Zelda pushed a golden strand determinedly behind her ear. "Now tell me more about this village of yours."

Their vision of impending death made the couple hard to distract, but Zelda kept at it, and after a while she and Elayne were laughing loudly as Corwin regaled them with tales of his life in the village. Elayne had obviously heard most of them before, but that did not stop her appreciating her husband's knack for storytelling. For a time Zelda even succumbed to her own strategy, forgetting the impending danger, but only until Demon's head popped through the canvas door and immediately wrecked the atmosphere.

"My lady," he said quietly, "We must talk." It was said respectfully, even humbly, and yet there was something in his posture which made his request into a command.

Zelda looked back to the young couple across from her, who were both staring at Demon. She understood their fascination with the enigmatic assassin, his strikingly Hylian features and the flames that smoldered in his gazes, but she was irritated by their obvious fear. Her companion was not a brainless animal to be treated like a brute, nor was he a spectacle to be gawked at. He was a man who deserved the same respect as another, not a market freak.

_But then again, could I blame them? _The princess asked herself as she slowly exited the wagon behind Demon. _He is so different from them, so different from any of us._ She wondered if the assassin ever realized how alone he had become in his self-imposed exile from humanity.

They fell back to the space between Corwin's wagon and the next, hurrying along to remain in the narrow gap. The pass was wider than the narrow gorge which the companions had traversed on the other side of the mountains, but the same jagged volcanic rock contorted the mountainside and crunched, glasslike beneath their feet.

"We are not moving fast enough." Demon said abruptly. "By nightfall we will have reached the knees of the mountain, but that will not be enough, not nearly." He shook his head.

"How do you know this?" Zelda asked, her tone harsh with disbelief. Abruptly she remembered their previous argument after the battle, and made a conscious effort to not get involved in another. "Do you know if we're being followed?"

Demon looked almost apprehensive as he glanced into the surrounding mountainside. "I don't have to see them to feel their presence. Scouts have already overtaken us, and more are coming."

"Can we lose them before nightfall?"

"You and I could," The assassin sighed, "But these merchants have neither the skill nor the speed to outrun the hunt. Omar knows this, and he leads them now to one of the caves along the roadside, which in better days were used to shelter travelers. It will make our stand longer, but I fear not long enough."

"Won't the Terminians send soldiers to-" Zelda paused mid-sentence, struck by a terrible though. "But the Terminians don't know of our predicament. They think this caravan is in Hyrule!"

"They do." Nodding solemnly, Demon turned his gaze to meet hers. "We are on our own princess, and the net is closing. Do not follow through on this madness. Please." An edge of desperation crept into his voice.

For a moment Zelda wavered as his dark words painted a picture of doom before them…but only for a moment. "We cannot leave these people to moblin stewpots," she reaffirmed with some difficulty. "And besides, the little hope these people have is in you Demon. You saved them once before against impossible odds, now they can only believe you will do it again.

"I didn't want to save them," Demon hissed. "Your life is my responsibility, not the lives of a bunch of ignorant fools stuck in the mountains."

"You forget that we are the Destined," Zelda reminded him. "And therefore, the lives of all peoples are our responsibility. I will not abandon them."

The black-clad warrior stared at her for a moment, as if willing himself to understand the pale girl in front of him. "Then I will not abandon you," He finally said, "Though I fear this choice will result in both our deaths."

The princess gave a sad smile, and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Has anyone ever told you that you are a good man Demon?"

The shocked look he gave her was answer enough. His blue eyes widened in surprise, and he seemed to almost stumble. "Not for a long time princess."

"If we are going to end up as moblin food, then that is something you should know." Zelda murmured, taking her hand off his shoulder.

"I do not think I am a good man." Sighed Demon, "But neither are you going to be fed to the moblins. Besides," he paused with a slight smile. "You're too thin to make a decent meal."

The morbid humor caught Zelda so completely off guard that her subsequent laughter caused several heads to turn farther up in the caravan.

After she had caught her breath, Demon continued to speak. "I do not agree with what you have decided princess. By taking on the responsibility of other's lives you make your own vulnerable. But by the oath I swore I must follow you and so I shall, unless I can convince you of this folly."

"You cannot, and yet…" Shivering slightly, Zelda's voice dropped to the edge of hearing. "I do not want to die Demon. Please…don't let them take me."

"I won't." The assassin said immediately, and the murder in his tone was obvious. "If we are to stay, than I must speak once again to Omar about our strategy for tonight. I beg your leave."

He took off with a swirl of cape and a stink of moblin blood that made Zelda's skin crawl. She had forgotten that he had been covered in it after the previous battle, and its stench had now permeated his clothing. Not that the princess was entirely clean herself, but she hadn't realized it was possible to cover oneself in the sanguine liquid.

Of course, in the process of wallowing in blood Demon had allowed her to remain free of it's stains, taking upon himself the wounds and rents that she would have otherwise had to bear. _Your life is my responsibility_, the black-cloaked warrior had said, for he was the one who protected her from danger.

"Well your life is my responsibility too." Zelda whispered, as she remembered the tiny smile Demon had given her after he resigned himself to her decision. "For I am trying to protect your soul.


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Demon's powerful stride carried him quickly to the front of the caravan and away from the princess who dominated his thoughts. He didn't need the distraction while he planned, and he doubted his war-stained presence would help distract Zelda from the danger at hand. In fact, he was fairly certain that he stank like moblin, though he was so used to the smell he couldn't really tell.

The assassin snarled, causing several merchants to jump nervously, and tried to focus his mind. He, Zelda, Kashi, and the caravan had to reach Termina, the princess had left him no other way than to make sure everyone survived. He wondered if it was even possible to save the stupid, dull idiots that surrounded him. Sometimes the orders that princess gave made him just want to-

"Excuse me mister." Demon started as a small hand tugged at the back of his cloak. Turning, he found himself staring at a tiny child, no more than ten years old. The kid's ragged hair looked like it had been chopped off with a knife, and dirt was caked liberally on his plump face. "My name's Trevor. Are you actually a Demon?"

The assassin glared at him, annoyance blatant in his features. "No." he forced, and turned to leave.

Trevor refused to let go of his cloak. "Mother _said_ you are! Is it true you killed a hundred moblins in the fight! And that fire shoots from your eyes when you're angry?"

"Go back to your mother!" Demon's voice was harsh as he twisted his garment free from the child's grasp.

The kid jumped, but didn't leave. He looked solemnly up at the assassin with round eyes. "My mother says you're in love with that beautiful lady who helped us today, and you saved her life!" His innocent face beamed excitement up at the disconcerted Demon who had suddenly forgotten his animosity. "Is it true?"

The assassin drew Trevor close to him as they continued along the narrow path down the mountainside. "Don't tell anyone," he growled.

The child nodded solemnly. "Never."

Demon straightened up, satisfied, and began unbuckling one of his small throwing daggers from his wrist. Once he'd gotten the strap off he looked back at Trevor. "This is a dangerous day for us," He began. "When the moblins come back, every man will need a weapon. Take this."

Trevor nodded again and carefully accepted the proferred dagger, excited beyond words by the charge which had been bestowed upon him. To be called a man by the Demon, the great killer! To be given a weapon! Happy beyond reason he streaked by to his wagon to reveal his new dagger to a horrified mother.

The assassin too rushed forward, but for a different reason. Mortified by the fact that he had given away one of his precious daggers, he shoved the incident from his mind. Maybe Zelda had achieved more influence over him than he had thought, he decided. The idea made him nervous.

If there had been more hours of daylight left, Demon would have continued to worry about it, but as he finally caught up to Omar and Kashi, the warrior within him took over. The Terminian captain moved quickly down the rough wash of stones and earth, but his face was lined with a barely concealed tightness. Kashi seemed relaxed, but Demon could tell by the way he gripped his spear that the man felt the tension as strongly as his companion.

"How much farther?" the assassin asked, measuring his step to stay even with them. "And how far have we come?"

Omar saluted awkwardly, and gave a cursory bow. "Welcome my Lord. I would give you answers if I knew them, but the twists and turns in this track throw off my instincts. It is seven leagues from the valley where my soldiers fell to the foot of the mountains, and two more before we could reach the town. How many we have traveled I do not know, but we will reach the cave before night."

"Then you still plan to make our stand there?"

"You Lordship," The captain said, his voice threatening to break. "I do not wish to die. The cave is our only hope."

"You are right." Demon agreed reluctantly "The few of us could hold that narrow entrance against hundreds of moblins. But you know that if we fail to hold the mouth, there is no escape from that cave. We could be slaughtered."

Omar looked at him, and the assassin realized that behind the fear on his visage, determination, the will to survive, could still be seen. "My captain used to say that victory is won by those who do not consider defeat. Suppose we survive the night, what then?"

Demon frowned, embittered by the man's optimism. "If we survive the night then the moblins will lay siege to our cave, not giving up till the last child among us ceases to breathe. No one knows we are here, therefore no one will save us."

Unperturbed, the Terminian disagreed. "The Maiden of the Moon has seen our plight. Her will is our fate."

Demon bristled. "The Maiden cannot choose my fate Captain. I am my own master. If I die in that cave, it will be my own will."

Omar shrugged. "Maybe you are not a servant of the Maiden my Lord, but there are other gods, and other powers in this world."

Demon was about to snarl a retort when his eyes focused on his gauntleted left hand, and he fell silent. He knew full well the powers that guided his fate, and the cruelty of their hold over him. Who was he to deny the truth?

And yet he was still angry, if only with the futility of his denial.

"We shall see." The assassin retorted. "Maybe tonight we shall cheat them all."

"Or maybe their will aligns with ours." Kashi broke in for the first time. "Really, if you want to argue religion do it in a temple, right now we need warriors not priests."

His weathered face breaking into a smile, Omar bowed his head in apology. "Agreed." He turned to Demon. "If we do survive, I will be happy to extol the praises of the Maiden to you tomorrow."

The black-clad warrior's eyes sparked. "And I will be happy to ignore you. I think some of the moblin scouts tracking us need a surprise." He melted back into the convoy and disappeared.

Omar, who had gone pale, instantly regretted his forwardness. "I have insulted him." He confided to Kashi. "Of all the people to offend, I have chosen the most dangerous!"

The inn-keeper shook his head. "The Demon is a strange one, but as long as you don't harm his Lady, he won't hurt you. After he slits some moblin throats he'll be back in fine spirits, trust me."

Shaking his head in confusion, the captain kicked a large rock off the trail. "And yet it is still stupid to insult one whose title is 'Demon.' I have known Lords to kill for less."

Laughing, Kashi patted the man on the back. "First of all, he's not a Lord, so you can stop addressing him as one. Secondly, he is probably the most dangerous man you have ever met, but you're safe for the moment."

"Why?"

"Lady Ariana." The innkeeper reiterated. "His oath is to her, and he only does her will. As long as she lives, you… and I, remain safe. But," The innkeeper lowered his voice and stared off into the distance. "If she dies tonight, then the oath would dissolve and I doubt any of us, man or moblin, would survive till morning."

"Then he is a Demon!" Omar breathed, rubbing a small, crescent-shaped tattoo on his palm.

Kashi laughed again. "Maybe." He said, "I don't know. I'm only the guide."

***

The sun dragged across the sky, the desperation of those below waxing as it waned. The merchants watched with trepidation, trying to outrun the onslaught of night, and the horde of monsters that marched in its shadow. In vain they toiled, for even a galloping horse cannot keep pace with the sinking sun, but the time they bought with their toil was precious. They needed to reach the cave, and every moment longer they could stay ahead of the moblins was a step closer to refuge.

Running, plodding, painfully slow they descended towards Termina, straining to pierce the haze which concealed the foot of the mountain from their eager eyes. Eventually, the haze rose to engulf the caravan too, and the subdued colours and subtle hues of their surroundings faded to drab grey. Moisture condensed on the canvas of the wagons and dampened the hair of those driving the horses, but it was not the sudden coolness which caused the merchants to shiver as they walked in the small world between the walls of cloud. They shivered because the day had waned, and the night was bringing evil.

The initial determination the merchants had shown seemed to be flagging, as their will to survive succumbed to fear. Omar had set his guards to watching the wagons, to prevent the horses from slowing down, but even they were beginning to succumb. The battle, and then the flight coupled with the unseen pursuit was driving both guards and merchants to the end of their strength.

From his position at the front of the caravan, Omar looked back at the people under his command and sighed. The blankness in their faces was proof of how close they were to breaking. Omar wished he knew how far ahead their salvation, the cave, lay, but he could only be confident that they were close. He looked over at Kashi, who over the course of the afternoon had been revealed as a man much like himself, and also a fast friend.

"I don't like this fog." He muttered, rubbing his hands together. "It makes the trail seem strange. I don't want to miss the cave."

"I'm more worried about an ambush." Kashi grumbled. "Where in the Dark Realm is that blasted Demon?"

"He should return. It would raise morale, and quiet the rumours that he has deserted us."

"At the right time, at the right place, he will appear." Muttered Kashi. "And probably scare the life out of us in the process."

Instead of answering, Omar drew in a harsh breath and stumbled frantically down an embankment at the side of the path. The scree grated beneath his boots as he half ran, half slid, until the mountainside under him leveled out once more. "This is it Kashi!" he cried, "I remember this place. The cave should be right through the fog."

The big innkeeper crouched down and peered into the swirling mist. "May the Goddesses be blessed! But how do the horses and wagons get down?"

"A little further down the path there is an opening easy enough for the wagons." He paused and tried unsuccessfully to clamber back up to Kashi. "A little help, my friend?"

The big man laughed, and bent over to reach out a hand. Omar grasped it gratefully and levered himself back onto stable ground. "Let us keep moving," he let the smile fade from his features. "I will not suffer us being out in the open longer than is necessary. I feel we are cheating the odds as it is."

After it was conveyed to the merchants how close they were to their destination, the final arduous passage from path to cave seemed to take no time at all. Everyone was grateful to trade the unnerving fog for solid rock, and the mood of the travelers brightened as they began to settle in for the night. The moblins threat seemed to recede a little under the glow of a bright fire, and the smell of food pushed it even further from memory. Only Omar and Kashi seemed to fully understand the gravity of the situation, and the fact that the merchants had not gained safety from their retreat, but instead just traded a hopeless situation for a slightly less precarious one.

Omar directed his soldiers to turn two of the merchant wagons on their sides, and use them to block almost the entire cave entrance. Then they piled all the rocks that could be found in the near vicinity around and on top of the makeshift blockade. The small passage left open between the two wagons was barely large enough for three of the soldiers to walk through abreast, and both Omar and Kashi were pleased with the addition to their defences.

"Will it hold?" The innkeeper asked the captain, after he dropped a veritable boulder into one of the wagons.

The other shrugged. "It depends how much of a beating the moblins give it. They could very easily rip the wagons apart if the idea takes them."

Grimacing, Kashi banged a fist into the side of the wagon, and then flinched at the noise it made in the echoing cavern behind him. "I haven't seen a Goddess-cursed thing since the last battle, and yet I know how many monsters lurk in these mountains. I wish they would stand and fight instead of skulking around!"

"You may regret that wish later on." Omar gave him a smile. "When you're up to your knees in moblin blood, and already broken four weapons on their foul skulls."

"And you may wish you had blood in your veins instead of cow milk." Kashi snorted. "The waiting is always worse than the fighting."

"You may be bigger than I, innkeeper, but…" His eyes widened and his voice went hoarse. "By the Maiden!"

Kashi followed his gaze and also froze, as he watched a black, red-eyed streak come racing out of the mist towards their cave chased by a single moblin. He had not realized the assassin was so fast, but what struck him most was that the legendary Demon was running away from a fight. He only had to wonder for a moment before a barrage of savage shouts provided an answer.

The mist boiled and frothed as a dozen moblins poured over the road towards the cave, followed by rank after rank of their brethren. Demon streaked past Kashi into the cave, followed by an over-eager moblin who was quickly skewered by the soldiers inside, but the innkeeper paid them no attention. He stared transfixed by the small army which sprinted towards him, and, in the heat of the moment, profoundly wished he had never left his inn.

Author's Note:

I was looking at the one of the Wolfess's stories and I realized that I should probably post my own comments at the end, not the beginning. Anyway, kudos to her.

I'm not sure if I like Omar the way he is right now. Personally, he seems a little too formal right now, so I think I will change that in later chapters. I sort of need a comic figure. As for the rest of the chapter, I sort of like it. I like being able to make up a new religion with this "Maiden of the Moon" crap, and I promise that she will be a major factor later on. Obviously I am going to focus on the Goddesses, but she's sort of a harmless addition.

I just can't believe how long this story is getting... :-)


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55

The moblins raced forwards like an incoming tide, spilling out of the fog and rushing towards the cave. Their hideousness unnerved the defenders, but none fled before them. All stayed, thrust their spears out over the barricade, and waited.

With a sinking heart, Omar realized what he'd suspected all along: the number of moblins would overwhelm the defenders. They would rush blindly onto his company's spears, impaling themselves two, maybe even three deep, but eventually the rest would climb over the bodies and force their way into the cave. Despair clawed at the captain's heart, but he grit his teeth and refused to give in. He thought of the women and children behind him, huddling together as the curses and growls of moblins bounced off the cave walls

"It must not end like this." He heard Kashi growl from beside him.

But it would, Omar knew, it would. This was their last stand, and this time there were no reinforcements racing down the mountain to save them. For the second time that day, the merchant captain realized he was about to die, and with that realization came a surge of hatred.

"Curse you all!" He yelled, and hurled his spear through the face of the foremost moblins.

Immediately, the first rank of monsters stumbled and fell, the long, white-fletched arrows of Termina buried in their throats. Shock engulfed the merchant guards and moblin horde alike, utter incomprehension apparent on both sides. Where had the arrows come from? Neither knew. And then a second volley, and a third, came tearing out of the mist, and the momentum of the battle changed entirely. The moblins began to run again, but this time away from their enemies, not towards them. They did not know what deadly foe lay within the cloaking mist, but the sudden devastating attack had scared the creatures into total retreat.

Omar stared after them, tense with adrenaline and rage. He had gone from staring into the face of impending death to complete redemption in the space of a few moments time, and he really had no idea who or what had saved him. He turned to Kashi, about to comment, and found Demon crouched between them. The assassin has his hands on his knees and was breathing heavily, but his eyes had the unmistakable glint of satisfaction.

"I can explain." He gasped, between breaths.

"As can I." A regal looking man holding a longbow dropped down in front of the cave. "It's a rather remarkable story."

Behind him, a bowstring thrummed, and a moblin straggler roared its death-cry, but the man did not turn. His handsome features were filled with the light of battle, and his well-muscled body was still tense with the expectation of combat. Omar and Kashi just stared at their savior, waiting for the promised explanation.

"The women and merchants are safe, I trust?" he asked, delaying the answer to their curiosity.

"Yes." Omar affirmed slowly as he struggled to remember the parts of himself that had not been centered on killing moblins, "they were all within the cave. Toryn!" he turned. "Tell Lady Ariana and the others that the battle is over." One of merchant guards ran back into the cave.

The tall man looked inquisitively to Demon. "Ariana? If I remember correctly the Princess of Hyrule is named Zelda."

Demon paused, and Omar shot him a shocked glance. "The Princess of Hyrule! What! How?"

"Given the circumstances, she is travelling under an assumed name and title. To the merchants she is Lady Ariana, a minor Hylian noble."

"And she is safe?" he asked with some urgency.

"Yes. She is." Zelda announced, as she emerged beaming from the cave. "Well met, Garret."

Omar let out strangled cough, which was unanimously ignored.

"It is good to see you safe your highness!" Garret exclaimed, bowing low. "When I heard from your servant you were here in Termina I could barely hope to believe it. The rumors out of Hyrule before the pass closed for winter were few, but…terrible. I did not think you had survived."

"That survival would have ended here, but for you. I thank you for my life." Zelda said gratefully. "But pardon my asking, did you vanquish the foe singlehandedly?"

Garret laughed wholeheartedly. "I wish it were so princess, that I could claim such a deed in your presence, but honor binds me to admit the truth." He took a bone whistle from where it hung around his neck and blew it three times. The piercing notes scattered into the fog, and brought back the sound of running feet.

Men began to emerge around the cave, all bearing the arms and symbol of the royal house of Termina. Each carried one of the massive bows favored by Terminians, along with a quiver and broadsword at their sides. When all had come they numbered about five score, and they bowed down before the princess of Hyrule.

"Captain!" Garret shouted, turning to the nearest. "Report!"

A tall man snapped straight and thumped a gauntlet to his chest. "The moblins are scattered and fleeing. They run without sense or order, and they have already retreated far into the mountains."

Garret laughed again. "Good. Then you," he turned to Zelda "are in no further danger."

"That is the best news I have heard…in a long while." Zelda sighed, and for the first time Garret seemed to notice how tense she and the company were. "We have been fleeing before them for the better part of a day, and many of our companion's bodies lie unburied at the site of our first battle. As you witnessed, this cave was the site of our final desperation."

There was sadness in the prince's eyes when she finished, but also admiration. "It is a very defensible place." he commented. "But I humbly ask forgiveness for not coming to your aid earlier. If I had only known…"

"It is good you came when you did," Zelda assured him, "More than that we cannot ask you, for it is impossible to change what has already happened."

Garret nodded, seeing that all silently agreed with the princess. "Your wisdom and beauty have not changed princess. Thank you for easing my guilt. But if I may ask, how is it that you came to part of this merchant caravan? By my knowledge, they set forth from Silva two days ago, a day after I did myself, that is not enough time for them to cross the mountains and meet you."

At this, Omar stepped forward and bowed low. "If I may my Prince," he began, "I would tell you a story, one that I would not believe real unless I had witnessed it."

The prince studied him for a moment, before answering. "Yes. I would hear this story."

Omar bowed again. "The merchants, my men and I set out from Silva as you said, two days ago. We travelled for a day and a half without incident, but on the second morning we grew uneasy, for we felt that we were being watched. One of the children wandered too far from the caravan, and we sent out a search party for him." Omar shivered, "We did not find him alive, but we stumbled upon a band of moblins. More flowed out of the surrounding mountainside, and the search party was driven back to the caravan with loss. The merchants abandoned their horses, formed their wagons into a ring, and joined my guards in its defense. We were about to be overwhelmed.

"Then," his voice rose, "over the edge of the valley came a beauty of vision itself. Clad in white and waving a shining sword, she and her two attendants came to our rescue with no thought to their own safety or survival. The moblins fled before her prowess like wheat before the scythe, and as men waking from a nightmare, we realized that our lives were being saved. When I too led my men onto the field, we drove the fiends away, and delivered the merchants and ourselves from the monsters. I did not realize then that our saviour was the princess of Hyrule, but I should have, for the kind of nobility and dignity she radiated was that of no common lady."

Omar shook himself out of his reverie just in time to catch the look of awe Kashi threw him, along with Zelda's accompanying look of puzzlement. The innkeeper was amazed by his friend's skilled tongue, the princess was confused by his somewhat altered account of her part in the battle, and Garret, for his part, was completely taken with the captain's romantic vision of Zelda the warrior princess. Demon was wondering whether to slit the man's throat for relegating him to such a minor role in the battle, but then, reminiscing on his actions, he realized that it was probably a good thing if the merchants didn't mention them.

"I had not noticed that you wore a sword," the prince murmured, looking at the weapon at Zelda's hip. She clutched the hilt self-consciously, not entirely liking her new role as a killer, even of monsters. It was something she would have to grow used to, but she knew why she wore one, and she was not afraid to tell Garret.

"My people are being enslaved and murdered." She looked the prince in the eye. "They are at war, and so therefore am I. My sword is their sword."

The prince shook his head in amazement. "Much has changed princess, since we used to play together in my father's gardens as children. I wish now we could have met again in less troubled times, and in a better place

The princess and prince talked for a while longer, Garret exclaiming over elements of Zelda's story, and the princess hinting at the true purpose of her visit, before both retired to their respective companies, Garret needed to receive a full report from his captain, and Zelda had to rally the merchants. Even though the sky was now pitch-black, she, Omar, and Kashi had decided the caravan should keep moving while there was no further chance of a moblin attack. The merchants, despite their weariness, completely agreed. Besides, they did not want to spend the night in a place they had come to see as a tomb. All of the company were glad to be alive, and thankful for their miraculous deliverance, but they didn't want to push their luck.

Garret, for his part, ordered fifty of his men to stay and guard the caravan the rest of the way to Silva, and then disappeared with the rest farther up the pass. Demon had painted him a vivid picture of the monster hordes which infested the high mountains, and therefore the danger his path led him to, but Garret had ignored him, and instead elaborately described the glory he and his men would achieve deep within enemy territory. The assassin shrugged and gave up, but not before drawing the prince a rough map of the pass and pointing out a few of what he suspected were moblin encampments. Zelda felt the prince's actions were foolish, that he risked too much for mere glory, but she was surprised by the loyalty of his men. All seemed as eager as Garret to head forth into great danger.

The princess did not understand it.

And yet, she didn't think it would be proper to argue with a man who had so recently come to her rescue, so she busied herself with helping the merchants prepare to travel. Wagons had to be righted and repacked, fires put out, and wares reorganized. Corwin insisted on leaving an entire pot of purple dye in the cave as an offering to the Maiden, and the appropriate prayers and incense burnings delayed the caravan for what seemed like forever to the princess. Zelda understood his need to thank the gods, she herself had offered several prayers already, but she wished the man could have delayed his reverence until he had city walls around him and a roof over his head. Zelda was pretty sure the Maiden would have forgiven him.

Of course, if the Maiden was even present, none of the company knew it. The mist thickened and deepened outside the cave so that by the time the merchants left, each driver could barely see the back of the wagon in front of them, let alone the sky. Omar and Kashi had spread Garret's men the length of the wagon train, and ordered them to form a defensive perimeter, but most walked within a few paces of the merchants, more afraid of losing their way than being attacked. The mist was both a shield and a cloak to those who passed within it, making men and horses into insubstantial ghosts that hardly seemed real in the darkness.

Omar alone carried a torch, of all the company, and it was he that that lead wagon followed down the mountain. Of both merchants and soldiers, it had been discovered that he was the most knowledgeable of the many paths and trailed which riddled the Terminian side of the mountains, so he had been chosen to lead the company. It was a responsibility that he did not carry lightly. The trust of all who blindly followed him, and the sudden revelation that 'Lady Ariana" was a Princess, spurred him onwards.

He led them true, always taking the quickest paths, but not ones that were too narrow or steep for the horses. Not once did he pause at a fork in the path, or forget the path he wished to take, and if the merchants could have but seen their surroundings under the light of day, they would have understood how skilled a guide they had chosen. Unfortunately, their searching eyes could not pierce the darkness, and instead conjured phantoms of moblins and chasms to entertain their fear. Time crawled, as it is always does when one thinks one is lost, and men began to grumble that they recognized what little of the scenery they could see. Zelda quietly travelled from wagon to wagon, soothing fears and comforting children, and urging parents to trust their captain to do his duty.

Some asked her why Demon had not been chosen to lead the caravan, and they hinted that they wished he had. "Twice today," one man said, "he has brought us aid in the moment of our ruin. Whether he is actually a demon I care not, for maybe in this evil fog it is better to be led by a demon than a man." Zelda forced down her anger at the callousness of the man, but silently agreed that she too would have felt safer if Demon had not handed the torch to Omar. Not that she didn't trust the merchant captain's instincts, but he did not have Demon's ability to win the day despite any odds.

Really, it was not until the path widened into a cobbled road, and fences reared here and there to either side, that the merchant realized how well founded their trust in Omar had been. The night was not half-done, and already they were passing the outer settlements of Silva. Unconsciously, all sped up the pace, feeling the exhilaration of a runner on the last leg of a race, and turning it into energy. Omar and Kashi were relegated to trotting beside the wagons as the drivers coaxed the last bit of speed out of their horses. Then the gates of Silva were before them, and the merchants let out a ragged cheer.

The gate guard didn't know what to make of it. Some of the company wept, others laughed, and a few, among them Corwin and Elayne, knelt in silent prayer to the Maiden. Somehow, they had cheated death, the mountains, and the moblin hordes, and lived to tell about it. True, many had fallen in the process, and they would be remembered and mourned in due time, but for the single blessed moment as the gates opened before them, the merchants were amazed by the miracle of their survival.

Really, neither Zelda nor Omar had planned past this moment. Their goal during the entire desperate flight had been to reach Silva, and place its solid oak gates between them and the moblins. There had been no point speculating farther in the future than that when they and the merchants were running for their lives, and even after they were rescued from the cave by Garret's men, neither party had decided what to do once they reached the Terminian city. Instead, they staggered down narrow streets, battling a sudden, and yet potent weariness which threatened to engulf them. Luckily, Garret had foreseen their plight, and his men quickly took over leadership of the merchant caravan.

They led the company to the best inn in the city, paying with Garret's own money to accommodate even the lowliest of the merchants. All the generosity was in Zelda's honour of course, but at the moment they entered the inn, the princess was barely aware of what was happening, other than the fact that she wanted a bath and a bed, in that order. Completely exhausted and grimy beyond belief, she stumbled through the common room and up the stairs without perceiving the many curious stares which followed her. Even when Demon had to partially carry her up the final steps to her room, she didn't object, but let her head rest on his shoulder and sighed sleepily. The assassin swallowed hard, and looked at her with an expression half pain and half tenderness, but Zelda was already asleep.

Two minutes later the assassin had laid her onto a massive bed, as big as two of the beds in Kashi's inn combined, and was back outside in the hallway. He was just as tired as the princess, but there were things he had to attend to, that he wished to do before the next morning when the town would buzz with the news that the Hylian princess was amongst them. The soldiers were already talking, Demon had seen the stunned look on the innkeeper's face when Garret's captain had paid him, and the assassin did not doubt that Zelda's time of anonymity was over. Of course, he had known that subconsciously when he had come across Prince Garret in the mountains and begged him to save the Princess, sacrificing her cover to give the Terminian a compelling reason to come to her aid. It was a necessary trade, but it meant that the assassin would have to be more careful than ever before.

As he swept down the stairs, Demon realized that Garret would have probably come to their rescue even if he had only known Zelda as a pretty Hylian noble. The man had a good heart, and his love for his subjects would have driven him to protect them without any added incentive. But at the time, Demon had known of Garret only what Zelda had told of him in the few instances he had been brought up in their conversation, and so the assassin had revealed to him the only thing sure to bring him and his men running to her aid. Demon did not regret doing so, but it made the next step, reaching the Terminian castle, more difficult. They still had a long way to travel, and many burdens to overcome…

And then he was back at ground level and the innkeeper was bowing low and asking him if "the Princess desired food, or drink, or even entertainment? Anything at all, to the limit of my power."

"She's sleeping." Demon said bluntly. "But she will need food and drink when she awakens. Simple fare please, that will not make her ill after a hard journey."

The man positively danced his assent. "Ah yes, I completely understand. I will see to it at once and then have my quietest maid bring it up to her. She will not be awoken I assure you of it-"

"No." Demon interrupted him. "I will bring it up. And understand that if anyone other than me passes through her door tonight, I will cut them to ribbons. No matter how quiet."

Frightened, the man retreated, but he was back, oozing protest, within the moment. "But sir!" he cried. "I was not properly ready for your arrival! She will need maids, and mirrors, and more furniture, and blankets, and fancier curtains, and sweetmeats, and perfumes, and-"

Once again, the assassin cut him off. "Tomorrow. For now she sleeps, and so should I. And you." He pointed to the innkeeper. "Why you are still awake is beyond me."

"Prince Garret planned to return tonight. It is his room that houses the princess." He glared at Demon. "You must let the maids in tonight or she will never forgive me! The room is not to the right standard!"

"Why not? It was fine for the prince." Demon asked him suspiciously.

"She's a princess!" The man practically growled. "Men don't care about having towels that match the carpets, and having all the woodchips removed from the fireplace!

Demon leaned in close, and his eyes flickered. "Yet you do, and you are a man," his eyes flickered scornfully over the plump innkeeper, "I trust. Although I may fix that if you disturb the princess."

This time, the innkeeper didn't bounce back as fast. He just hunched nervously. "Then, if her ladyship permits, I can send the towels up tomorrow?"

Demon looked at him, and gave up. "Yes. Now where's the princess's breakfast?"

He was led to the kitchens and burdened with a tray so completely full that he ended up having to take two trips up the stairs to Zelda's room. He didn't understand how one person was expected to eat so much food, let alone a slim princess. Knowing Zelda, the one tray would probably have provided her with breakfast for five or six days, but the assassin had a sneaking suspicion that an identical feast in her honor would be provided every morning. Not that the assassin was complaining, it had been a long time since he had tasted some of the dishes present.

Setting the tray down outside the door, Demon drew a knife and carefully inserted it between the door and frame, jimmying the locking bar free in the process. The room was meant to be locked from the inside, but the assassin hadn't been near naïve enough to leave it unbarred while he had gone downstairs to talk to the innkeeper. It had taken some skill, but he had managed to knock the bar into place from outside the door, and now used the same method to enter.

When he finally got the door open, he walked in to find the scene unchanged. Zelda lay curled up on the massive bed, sleeping deeply, without notice or care of the surrounding world. Demon cast her a measuring glance, and then carefully, quietly, went to her side. His steps made less sound than ever the innkeeper's quietest maid had dreamed of, and he barely seemed to breath as he slipped over to stand beside the bed. Carefully quietly, he pulled a blanket from the pile next to the bed, and cast it over her, laboriously tucking in the edges so it wouldn't slip off during the night. He stepped back to survey his work, and frowned as the princess shifted in her sleep and thrust a single foot out of the blanket and across the bed. Zelda had been so tired she had forgotten to cast off her boots, and Demo stared unhappily at the swathes of dirt they streaked across the linens.

_Well, _Demon decided, _she can survive the discomfort for one night at least. She's been through worse on this journey. _He was about to turn away when a soft noise at the door made him whirl around, daggers appearing in his hands like coins in the palm of a travelling magician. Silently, his feet carried him behind the slowly opening door. A form crept in, and Demon had a dagger to its throat before he himself knew who it was, but then he became far to busy muffling the maid's scream and catching her dropped tray to cut her throat. Shoving her bodily into the hallway, he closed the door behind them and glared at her.

"She was not to be disturbed!" he hissed, mad enough to rage, but not able to due to the proximity of the sleeping princess. "Why are you here!"

The girl was almost in tears, frightened out of her wits by her sudden brush with death. "Master said," she sobbed, " that the princess will not have a clean garment for tomorrow morning, so he sent me with one. I swear we only seek to please her!"

"I almost killed you," Demon growled in frustration, "for a robe. Fool girl."

"May I leave it with her?" The maid whispered tentatively.

"Fine." Clenching his hands into fists, Demon let sparks flash through his eyes for a second, before another thought struck him. "Actually, I may have a use for you. Her highness…needs a woman."

The maid stared at him, her fear tinged with curiosity. "For what?"

"To remove…her boots." The assassin forced. "I can't do it."

"Why not?"

"Would that not be improper?" Demon growled back.

"I suppose." She stared at him doubtfully. "Promise you won't kill me?"

Demon sighed. "I swear it."

He turned, and slowly swung the door open. True to the quality of the rest of the inn, it did not even give of a semblance of a squeak, and he quickly had it closed and locked behind them. The maid immediately went to the bed, her slippers making soft sounds on the floor as she went. Murmuring in disapproval, she skillfully began to unlace Zelda's boots.

"Her feet might be a little swollen." Demon whispered from over her shoulder, and the maid almost squeaked.

"My apologies." She whispered back, before returning quickly to her task. "It's fortunate you let me in, her feet would have been in a fine state tomorrow morning when she woke up. Besides, she's cold, almost shivering! Did you really think one blanket would be enough this early in spring, hardly before the snow's even melted?"

Now that she was back in her area of expertise, the maid was quickly losing her fear of the assassin. Demon gritted his teeth as she reprimanded him for this and that, but he marveled at her skill. She had both Zelda's boots off in a flash, and then somehow managed to get the princess under all the blankets she had been sleeping on without waking her. After that, she took the initiative and bustled around the room, fixing things and tidying, and generally making the room more presentable than it already was.

Finally, she returned to Demon, and managed to look him in the eyes. "That's the best I can do without making a few trips downstairs. I'll be right back up in a second with some matching towels, now that you've realized how important it is not to terrorize people trying to help you. And don't you pull a knife on me again!"

But Demon was not to be bullied. "Tomorrow you can bring as many towels as your heart desires. Now I must sleep, and so should you, if you have any sense."

The girl glared at him. "Women," she whispered loftily, "do not need as much sleep as men. Especially ill-mannered louts like yourself with too many blades and not enough brains."

Demon almost laughed. It had been so very long since someone had really tried to insult him that he actually found it funny. "What is your name girl?"

She kept glaring at him. "Woman, actually. And it's Katie."

"Tell your master that from now on, you are the only one allowed to serve the princess, and therefore you must be released from your other duties to be on constant attendance." He grinned, but on a face like his it was more of a threat. "Zelda will like you."

"I don't know," she whispered, "there are older maids, and better ones. I'm really not very good, and I don't know anything about princesses!"

Demon looked at her. "Princess Zelda will like you, I am sure of it. Now I want to see no more of you until tomorrow. Go." He shut the door and locked it again.

Before going to bed, he made one last circuit of the room to make sure all the windows were shut and locked, and that the fire in the hearth was burning nicely. Then he grabbed another couple blankets of the pile beside Zelda's bed and lowered himself down in front of the door. All in all, it was the best sleeping arrangements he'd had in a while too, even if it was on the floor. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was of what Katie had called him. An ill-mannered lout with more blades than sense. _Well, it's not too far off the truth,_ he thought, before drifting off into oblivion.

Author's Notes:

Well, I went on a bit of a binge and wrote a whole chapter over the last couple days, so I was free to post this one. I like it, although I'm playing a little free with character continuity, so some of you may be a bit confused. My problem is that sometimes the characters evolve in my head, and I forget what they used to be the six to eight months ago when I introduced them. So please forgive me.

It's also important to note that the next few chapters in Termina are going to involve a lot of social contact between various characters and Demon, which will force him to depart from his aloof role as the medieval equivalent to the "master-chief". You all should be warned in advance, that he is still not a terribly like-able character, unless of course you are so lucky as to know his heroic background (which we are). Frankly, what Katie calls him is fairly true. He even admits it. :-)

I apologize for the punctuation errors in the dialogue. My general philosophy has been not to care about the small details, but I'm revising that now. I would like to go back and give this story a more polished look, so I may be going back and doing some editing. Those of you who were around when I mistakenly erased this whole piece will remember that I had to upload everything from my rough drafts, causing some humorous additions to the main text. But, I admit, there's not excuse for me to have kept this mistakes in my published work for as long as I have.

Not that I'm able to make any promises. :-)


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter 56

Long before the sun had truly risen, the citizens of Silva were buzzing with news of the princess within their midst. The Terminian soldiers who had initially shared the juicy piece of gossip were long asleep, but their maids had told other maids, who had told friends and families, and so almost the entire city was aware of its special guest before midmorning. From the most prominent merchant, to the meanest beggar, everyone discussed, speculated, and reminisced about the purpose and circumstance of this royal visit. Many remembered the last time the princes had come to Termina, and eagerly wondered if the same festivities and celebrations would be called for. The wiser folk shook their heads and foreboded a different, darker purpose for this visit. Some even whispered that Zelda had come to make talk of war against Aratia, but this talk was generally ignored by the more excited and more naïve majority.

Rumours were created and circulated, evaluated and rejected, and then resurrected anew. One maid swore that the princess had a demon consort, that she had heard the Terminian soldiers talking about him. She even swore that he slept in the princess's room, and had already cut a maid's throat for showing fear in his presence. This was generally laughed off with much teasing and head-shaking, and the maid was forced to retire in tears, but when other maids started to tell the same story, people began to wonder. A small crowd slowly formed around the city's most prominent inn, a crowd of townsfolk holding slow, languid discussions, or pretending to barter for goods at the merchant stalls. Excitement ran at the highest point it had been since the long winter began to thaw, and the maids who occasionally exited the building to run errands for the inns occupants suddenly found themselves the most popular inhabitants in Silva. Not that they had much news to tell, for the princess, Demon, and all of the merchants, were still asleep.

Up on the inn's third floor, it was an entirely different world. Maids crept here and there in the heavy silence, tiptoeing around, delivering trays of food to rooms, and carting off laundry for washing. Almost the whole of Omar's company had been accomodated on this highest and most luxurious level of the inn, and though their rooms did not quite match the elegance of the princess's, they were still fancier than anything the merchants had ever stayed in before. Taking full advantage of their providence, Zelda's humble retinue slumbered far into the new day.

And yet none slept as long as the princess, who after days of hard travel and weariness, was finally enjoying a respectable bed. She lay curled up in her many blankets, too tired to even dream, as one by one the merchants awoke and began their days. Even when she finally drifted back to consciousness, she didn't dare move for fearing she might dispel the quiet happiness which filled her. It had been so long since Zelda had found herself able to wake up in a real bed, and even longer since she had woken up without a million cares and worries descending upon her. She yawned once, and realized, without a trace of unease, that she had no idea where she was, in fact had no memory of the previous night after passing through the gates of Silva. _Oh well,_ she decided sleepily,_ it doesn't matter_, and promptly closed her eyes.

Demon never woke up once, through the whole night and morning. He had hardly slept at all during the entire trek through the mountain pass, and his last frantic sprint in front of the moblin hordes had seriously drained his endurance. Not realizing how tired he was, he had pushed himself further than was wise, and now he was paying the cost of his indiscretion. Of course, some might have argued that the extraordinarily soft, down-filled blankets on which he lay had something to do with it, but they would not have done so to his face.

In fact, it was a soft tapping on the door he lay in front of which finally woke him. He shifted, trying to ignore it, but the sound persisted and became louder. Finally, Demon crawled out of his blankets and unlatched the door.

"What do you want?" he snarled groggily through the narrow crack between door and frame.

"Just leave these for the princess." Katie whispered back to him, shouldering the door open wider so she could push a towel, a hand mirror, and a few other trinkets through the gap. "She'll need them when she wakes."

Demon accepted the bundle ungratefully, and glared at the maid. "Do not bother us again. Understood?"

Katie nodded, but there was a hint of rebellion in her eyes. "I'll wait here." She sat down in a chair across the hallway, and smiled determinedly.

The assassin sighed and closed the door. He would let Zelda deal with that one.

He turned around, and was about to slip back into his blankets when the princess shifted restlessly and sat up in her bed. "I thought I heard something," she started sleepily, "Did someone knock?"

"Only a maid. Go back to sleep." Demon replied, quickly trying to sidestep her curiousity, but Zelda would not be dissuaded.

"What for? Did she-" the princess suddenly yawned, and then seemed to lose her train of thought. "Where are we?"

Her hair was sticking out in a million directions, and she looked about as alert as a tavern drunk, but Demon's decorum never wavered. "We are at Silva's best inn. And the maid was delivering you a towel. Unfortunately, she was clumsy enough to disturb you in the process."

"Oh." Zelda mumbled, and yawned again. "You didn't scare her, did you?"

Demon hesitated a moment as he guiltily remembered Katie's previous entrance. "Not this time." He answered truthfully.

The princess gave him a puzzled look, and then decided he was trying to be funny. She sank back down into her bed and pulled the covers over herself. "I didn't think you made jokes." She breathed.

The assassin decided against answering, for once glad to have been misinterpreted. He lay down again, and was about to close his eyes, when the princess kept talking.

"Do you?"

Demon rolled his eyes. "Jokes imply a sense of humour." He whispered dryly. The princess smiled momentarily, but then her eyes darkened.

"Of course, you have changed much from the man who tried to kill me."

Demon froze as he was shocked from his fatigue. He hated that memory, indeed he tried to think of it as little as possible. "That night is behind us princess."

"I know," Zelda sighed. "But yesterday, when I was in that cave, I began to wonder about things. It seemed like you had abandoned us, and I realized that I had never asked you…why."

"I swore an oath princess." Demon growled, but Zelda interrupted his anger.

"I never asked, what made you hesitate that night. I never asked…why I am still alive." Her voice had lost its sleepyness, and Demon could tell that she too was now fully alert.

In all the time they had travelled together, they had never talked of this subject, just as they had never discussed the assassin's past. It was too painful, too laden with the assassin's secrets. Also, the fear Zelda felt when she remembered it made her sometimes doubt the trust she and Demon shared.

Pulling himself from his spot by the door, Demon moved to her bedside and slumped onto the pile of blankets. "You destiny was not to die at my hand." He reasoned, "Just as it was not my destiny to kill you."

From her position on the bed, Zelda frowned. "But that is not a reason."

Demon sighed. "The King of Aratia hired me to kill you after Arawn's attempt failed. I thought you had ordered Gabriel to kill me, so I came to Hyrule looking for revenge. When I found I had been mistaken, that Gabriel had lied, I found I could not complete my mission." The words tumbled out of him, bringing feelings and memories he hated with them. Some he could tell Zelda, some he could not. There were things she could not know, and so he fed her his half-truths.

The princess turned her head to look at him. "You killed so many. I saw them in my dreams. How was I any different?" She paused for a moment, her voice heavy with sorrow. "When Arawn kidnapped me, and stuck me in his dungeons, you were the first to come to my rescue. Why? I never asked you that either."

"It is my destiny." The assassin whispered. "Our fates are bound together."

"Once again, that is not an answer." The princess whispered back, "You say you would die for me Demon, yet I know almost nothing of you. You may hide behind your talk of destiny, but I know that men's actions shape their destiny, not the other way around. We are the Destined, yes, but we are not fate's slaves."

"I would not be so sure." Demon shifted on the blankets and felt the pain well up inside himself. He longed to tell her everything, to share the burden that weighed so heavily upon him, but he knew it was an impossible. The assassin was an outcast of his people, his fate, and even of his time, and the latter he knew the princess could not possibly understand.

For a while, both were silent as they contemplated the paradox which embodied their conflict. Zelda would not understand her companions suffering until he explained it to her, and Demon could not tell her until she understood. They were at a stand-off which neither could break.

Eventually, the princess gave up.

"I did not think we would survive the mountains." she remarked, stretching her arms above her head. Another massive yawn wracked her frame, and Demon marveled at how wide she managed to open her mouth. "I thought we had come so far only to die on moblin spearpoints. Where did you find Garret that you could bring him so quickly to our aid?"

The assassin shrugged. "In that, maybe, destiny played a role." He silently thanked the princess for restraining her curiousity about his past. "I had dropped back from the caravan to ambush the moblin scouts tracking us, when I found another track. I followed it to Garret and his men, and when I explained our situation, they agreed to help us." He relaxed back into the blankets. "Garret set an ambush, and I lured them into it. A simple ruse, but moblins aren't known for their wisdom."

"From inside the cave all we could hear were the moblins screaming and howling," Zelda remembered, and shivered. "We thought they were ripping the guards to shreds, and that we were next."

"You made the choice to stay with the merchants," Demon reminded her. "If we had slipped away, you never would have been in danger."

"And all of them would have died." Zelda assured him. "Our refusal to abandon them is the reason they survived to reach safety. It's the only reason they can enjoy today with their families."

"Your refusal." Demon muttered, but Zelda ignored him. "And one of the merchant wives would not have been alive to talk to me after the battle. She gave me this," she reached into a pocket on her outfit and pulled out a small knife. "She said that her son had been waving it around and insisting he be allowed to fight the moblins." The princess allowed herself a little smile. "I believed her until she told me who gave it to him."

The assassin looked at her, trying to hide his embarrassment. He had really been hoping Zelda would not find out about his moment of weakness. He took the knife anyway. "We needed every man." He reminded her, and the princess laughed.

They talked for a while longer, about Hyrule and Termina, and many other things. Really they had not talked alone since Kakoriko, and both found it comforting to discuss plans and experiences without outside interference. Both managed to laugh, despite the pall of the first part of the conversation, and later Zelda began to cry as they remembered Husam and his bloody end.

"Our Quest is marred with death," Zelda commented sadly. "Ever the storm rises around us and the innocent are sacrificed in place of our own lives. The very tracks we leave are filled with their blood."

Silently, Demon agreed. He thought back to the butcher he had murdered in Kakoriko, and then travelled back even farther to the hundreds of mercenaries he had faced in the Aratian gladiator pits. Really, he had been wading in blood for years, at times reveling in it, and it had only recently begun to bother him again. The assassin knew that it was Zelda's influence upon him, slowly returning empathy to his soul, and he wasn't sure if he liked the idea.

Later, he retrieved the tray of food he had brought up the night before, and he and the princess stuffed themselves. Neither had eaten for almost a full day, and so they attacked the assorted dishes with ravenous hunger. Once, when Demon looked up, he realized the princess had managed to smear bacon grease from her lips almost to her ears. She caught him staring and looked back, puzzled for a moment, before beginning to laugh. It was only once she explained to him that he had cherry preserve clinging to the tip of nose, that his confusion ended, although her laughter stopped also when he pointed out the grease trail.

The day waxed as the sun rose higher in the sky, and assassin and princess began to think of venturing forth from their rich sanctuary into the city beyond. Neither were very eager to face the outside world again, and meet the obstacles and conflicts that awaited them, but they insitinctively knew that their time of seclusion was coming to an end. Besides, as Zelda informed the assassin, he very much needed a bath, and so did she.

So, very reluctantly, Demon went to the door and opened it a crack, only to have the weight of Katie's body wrench it out of his hands as she burst through. "You called highness?" she asked a much bemused Zelda, curtseying nearly to the floor in her excitement.

"Princess, this is Katie, your maid." Demon growled as he shook out fingers bruised by her entrance. "Beware, she's a handful."

To her credit, Zelda giggled. "So Katie, you have already met Demon?"

The maid paused, her desire to maintain decorum battling with her curiousity. "Demon, my lady?"

Zelda pointed to the assassin. "Him."

Katie turned straight into Demon's cold glare, and immediately lost her composure. "He tried to kill me!" she blurted. "He's a…a…a Demon!"

It was the princess's turn to glare, and the assassin winced under its full power. "He did what?" her voice was slow and dangerous.

"Last night he almost slit my throat! Right there beside the door!" Katie pointed. "I nearly broke a full tray of Master's best plates!"

"It was dark and she didn't knock." Demon growled. "I had already warned the innkeeper not to disturb us."

Zelda sighed. "I am sorry Katie. My bodyguard takes his job very seriously. Sometimes," she shot Demon another glance, "Too seriously."

"Of course, milady." The maid joined in. "He is, after all, a brainless man!"

For a moment, the princess was completely speechless, until she saw the expression on Demon's face, and surmised an immediate need to change the topic of conversation.

"I wished to bathe last night before I slept. Unfortunately," Zelda shrugged desperately, "I slept first. Would you assist me in bathing this morning?

Katie smiled brilliantly and curtseyed again. "Of course, highness! I will go prepare the water at once. We have a private bath for our most important guests. Be back in a minute!" She strode briskly out of the room and was gone in a whirl of skirts, leaving an astonished silence in her wake.

After a moment, Demon snorted. "I should have killed her when I had the chance."

"Then you would have had to answer to me," Zelda reminded him, "And my wrath is much worse than whatever little name she called you." She frowned in mock anger, and Demon frustratedly shook his head

"Demon. The Butcher of Aratia. Angel of Vengeance. The Dark One. All these I was once called." He snorted. "And now I must let serving maids insult me."

"The less titles a man has, the more likely he is to live up to them." Zelda stretched languidly. "At least that's what my father used to say."

"You father never met me." Demon growled, but the princess could tell that the edge was gone from his annoyance. "I'm off to the baths meant for common folk like myself."

It wasn't quite true. First he went down to the common room and explained to the innkeeper exactly what would happen to him if Zelda bore even a scratch when the assassin returned. It was a long explanation, and quite detailed, and Demon took great satisfaction from the fact that someone at least took him seriously.

Only afterwards, did he stride through the great double doors of the inn and onto the streets of Silva.

Immediately, a profound silence settled over the crowd assembled outside the inn as each strove to catch a glimpse of the assassin. People pointed, some even drew the crescent moon on their chests, and all gaped with the excitement of children at a carnival. Demon ignored them stoicly, and started weaving his way down the street. Silva was a large city, but the merchant caravan had passed the public baths on their way to the inn the night before, and the assassin remembered their generally direction.

The stares followed him as he rounded the corner, and a quick glance behind showed a significant number of Silvans were as well. _I'm not a market lunatic,_ he thought bitterly to himself, _to be gawked at in the street._ And yet apparently, to the Silvans, he was. Demon could hear the whisperings behind him, spreading gossip and speculation, and he resigned himself to ignoring them.

He spotted Kashi making his way out of one of an alley, and approached him thankfully. The big innkeeper winked at him. "Finally awake! I did not think demons needed sleep!"

The assassin gave him a puzzled look, and Kashi pulled him closer. "According to these folk, you're 'Zelda's demon lover', I've been hearing legends about you all morning!" He chuckled viciously. "Things that would make even a tavern-brawler pale!"

"They call me Zelda's lover?" Demon's voice was emotionless.

Kashi nodded. "Almost the entire city believes it."

The assassin positively bristled. "Lead me to the man who told you that!" he snarled. For the second time that day, he found himself wanting to draw his weapons and fill his surroundings with corpses.

Kashi backed away smartly and shrugged his shoulders. "He heard it from his mother, who heard it from her brother, who was told by the fishmonger, who is courting a serving maids. Besides, the way these Silvans talk, you'd be killing half the city to stop their gossip!" He laughed. "Better to forgive to and forget my friend."

What the innkeeper said was true, and Demon knew it, but he seethed anyway. It seemed that more and more of his problems since he met Zelda were of the type that could not be solved with blades, and sometimes his darker side resented his newly complicated life. "Then I'm off to the baths. Will you join me?"

"Omar and I were to meet there anyway," The innkeeper explained. "Along with most of the merchants. Together we'll turn the water black with moblin blood!"

The big man paused for a moment, before looking quizzically at the assassin. "Pardon me for asking, but I did not think you were one for bathing."

"The Princess desires it." Demon said flatly, and for once Kashi had the grace to remain quiet.

Just like the innkeeper had said, the common baths were full of merchants when the two companions arrived. In the men's section, Corwin and Omar sat talking on a wooden bench which ran the length of the pool, while a few other familiar faces poured water over glowing coals to fill the room with steam. A few Silvan men slipped in and out of the pool too, but they generally kept to the far end, respecting the privacy of their visitors and honoured guests. Everyone, Demon noted resignedly, was also naked.

Kashi led him to the changing area, and reluctantly he began to unwind the blood-soaked black cloth which covered his entire body. The innkeeper tried to be polite, but as more and more of the scars which covered the assassin's torso were uncovered, even he could not help but stare. Finally, the assassin caught his eyes and smiled grimly. "We all bear the cost of our mistakes," he uttered, "Mine are just more visible than most."

"By the Goddesses," Kashi shook his head in admiration. "The Silvans were right, only a demon could take wounds like that and still live!"

The assassin didn't answer as he finished removing his black rags. He often forgot about the vivid scars that criss-crossed his body, evidence of a lifetime spent in almost constant warring, but others who saw them never did. For a moment, he regretted coming to the baths, but then he steeled his resolve and motioned to Kashi.

"A demon wouldn't have scars. He wouldn't make mistakes." He grabbed a towel from one of the racks beside the door. "Let's go."

*

Back at the inn, Zelda had just finished her bath, one that, while more priviledged than Demon's, had still been equally embarrassing. The princess had forgotten what it was like to have maids waiting in constant attendance at all times, and she'd had to fight the urge to send them from the room. She couldn't give in to that urge. To be treated like a princess, she had to act like a princess, and a princess expected to be waited on, even in the bath.

Of course, the worst had come afterwards, when the maids had dressed her. Zelda coloured slightly at the memory. What had once seemed so natural for Impa to do back at Hyrule Castle had become awkward and strange. She didn't know these maids, hadn't grown up with them or even hardly talked to them, and they had already seen her in her most compromised state. The princess was glad the whole ordeal was over, and she was back in her room.

A room which had apparently been at the mercy of another army of maids.

A fire blazed in the hearth, and the blankets, sheets, towels, curtains and rugs had all been changed. A giant full-length mirror dominated one corner of the room, and a low cot had been set up beside the door. And everywhere else, a thousand tiny embellishments had turned the room into a refuge worthy of a princess. Zelda marveled as she fingered a silk tablecloth embroidered with tiny hummingbirds hardly larger than her fingernail, before going over to the mirror and studying her reflection.

The dress she had been given by the maids was not as luxurious as those she had once worn in Hyrule Castle, but it was a marked improvement over her stained and torn travel garments. The maids had also spent a lengthy amount of time untangling the knots from her hair and teasing it into order, and the drastic change in her appearance surprised the princess. Suddenly, she looked like royalty again, and the reality of her position began to sink in.

Zelda had spent so long in the wilderness, trekking across Hyrule, or in hiding from Gabriel and Aratia, that the trappings and rituals of civilization seemed almost unreal. She had been living in the moment, trapped on the brink of survival; now she had returned to an entirely different world. In this place the weapon of choice was language, and battles were won and lost on eloquence and rhetoric, rather than swords and shields. And yet Zelda knew that this new chapter in her journey would either win her enough swords and shields to take back Hyrule, or destroy her last chance of redemption. Forever she would be the Princess of an enslaved, subjected country, to which she could never return. Unless…

Blue eyes blazing determination, Zelda stood a little straighter and stared hard into the mirror. She had once been the best diplomat in Hyrule, renewing relations with three of the four countries on its borders. She had persuaded, encouraged, manipulated, inspired, convinced, and befuddled foreign officials into doing everything she wanted them to do, and the princess knew that deep inside, she still had the skills. Now it was only a matter of using them.

A staccato knock on the door interrupted her musings, and Zelda turned. "Who is it?" she called, smoothing down the front of her dress.

"A lowly bodyguard and a common innkeeper." Demon called from the corridor, "May we come in?"

The princess laughed. "Of course!"

The door opened and Demon peered into the newly-decorated room, resigned to the changes. Zelda walked over to the table and motioned for him and Kashi to sit down, then took the last seat herself. She looked from one to the other, and noticed both were staring at her.

For a moment she waited, and they continued to stare. The princess frowned. "Do I have something on my face again?" she asked.

Kashi coughed embarrassedly. "No. Nothing."

Confused now, the princess turned to Demon. "What is it?"

The assassin's piercing gaze scrutinized her. "You…look different."

"He means beautiful." Kashi broke in. The big innkeeper laughed.

Demon slowly nodded, and Zelda felt herself blushing. "I did bathe," she remarked.

"Aye, so did we," Kashi grinned, "But nobody's yet called me pretty."

He and Zelda both laughed, and the room filled with the sound. Demon, wrapped up in his own thoughts, failed to join them. He had meant to say she was beautiful, more beautiful than anyone he had ever known, but his memories had stopped him. He had loved Zelda, but she was not this Zelda, or was she? He did not know.

Once again, the door creaked open, and Katie bustled in with a tray loaded with drink and delicacies. "I heard your highness had company," she began, "So I brought up some-" then she took a closer look at Kashi and began to scream.

The noise was ear-splitting, and Demon clapped a hand to the side of his head, while reaching for a weapon with the other, but he stopped when he saw the panic-stricken look on Kashi's face. The innkeeper looked like he was the one about to be stabbed, all the humor had drained from his visage, along with most of the blood. To the assassin, he seemed as one who had just been sentenced to death.

Katie's scream turned to incoherent sobs, and Zelda rushed from the table to console her. The princess could not imagine what had caused such a reaction, but her nature would not let her sit and watch the serving maid weep in front of her. But Katie would not be consoled. "You!" she pointed one shaking finger at Kashi. "Why are you here!"

The innkeepers shoulders slumped as he seemed to retreat inward. "I came with the princess. I wasn't meanin' to come back. I'm sorry."

"You bloody well better be!" the maids voice rose to a near shriek. "I-I can't believe it!" Once again, she retreated into incoherent sobbing, as both Demon and Zelda looked vindictively at the innkeeper.

Wearily, he motioned to the sobbing girl. "This is Katie, the woman I almost married."

At the word 'almost', Katie sobbed even harder.

Author's Note:

Three updates in two weeks. I swear this is the most I've written in years. I just warn you not to expect any more for a while because I now officially have no free time. I also officially hate both web assign and calculus, but that's a different story entirely. :-)

This chapter has several rough spots, but I like it and I believe you will too. The dialogue is somewhat stilted and varies between formal and near-colloquial, but also includes several priceless lines (at least for me). I like Kashi's reply to Zelda during the "beautiful" conversation, and also Demon's ideas about destiny, although I don't know if I agree with him. Destiny is just a very important factor in the Zelda series and therefore needs to be addressed.

In response to KTP (I would send you a private message but you have no Link (pardon the pun :-).

NO, I don't think it would be a good idea to punch Demon, YES, Zelda is going to learn some swordplay, NO, I am not going to include chapters about Gabriel or Malon because they roles in the story are for me to know and you to...not to know. They might even be dead. I am totally okay with you skipping over words because I do it too. I believe I read Split-Infinitive's "Rebel Assassin" last week in a little over six hours, which is not actually humanly possible if you read every word. And finally, YES, I did name name Katie after you. I hope you're impressed!*

*Assuming, of course, that you happen to be a girl I met once at church in Latin America. Otherwise it might be a case of mistaken identity. :-)

I have a favour to ask of you that have actually beaten Majora's Mask. I need to know if there's anything important about Termina that I should be including in Forgotten Demons. Obviously I've already taken significant liberties with the religious and political structures of the country, but before I make free with everything else I thought I would ask. Any response, not matter how remotely connected, is appreciated.

Sincerely,

Celeborn00


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter 57

Omar pressed his ear against the door, motioning Corwyn to be silent. He held his breath, poised in perfect stillness as he strained to hear whatever was being said on the other side. A long moment passed, and then he cursed softly and pulled away. "I can't hear anything!" he whispered, "What are they doing?"

Corwyn shrugged, and the two slipped across the corridor and slumped against the wall. A maid rushed by, glaring at them disdainfully as she passed, but both the girl and her look were ignored.

"You're married!" Omar hissed and turned to Corwyn. "You should know what's happening!"

The other man shrugged again, so Omar continued. "First they were yelling, then crying, then laughing, then yelling again…" He squared his shoulders. "If I only knew what it meant!"

"It's their business not ours." Corwyn reminded him, than winced at the explosion his words inspired.

"Their business! Have you lost your wits man! That woman might eat my friend alive!" Glaring at his companion, he positively fumed. "Did you hear her scream earlier? She sounds more like a demon than, than, Demon himself!"

"Zelda is with them." Corwyn reminded the guard captain. "If nothing else, she can protect the innkeeper from Katie."

"Maybe." Omar conceded although he was hardly convinced. "I just wish that miserable, little, Goddess-cursed, shrew of a maid would leave him alone!"

Idly, Corwyn tapped the floor with his fingers. "You shouldn't swear like that, the Maiden of the Moon might punish you."

For a moment Omar seemed to clench everything about himself, as through a superb display of self control, he managed not to reply. Instead, he turned and gave the merchant a look that would have made even Demon proud.

Corwyn slid farther away, his throat suddenly going dry. The fingers of Omar's right hand twitched towards his sword hilt, and the merchant slid farther away still. Zelda had told him to keep Omar out of trouble while she was reconciling the unhappy couple, but he hadn't expected the captain to react so violently.

Omar stood up and began pacing back forth down the hall, the tensions of the situation obvious in both his stride and manner. "Maiden of the Moon might punish me!" he muttered, throwing a bitter glance towards his companion. "What would she do? Blight my crops? Close my womb?"

For his part, Corwyn watched the captain's fall into sacrilege with weary resignation.

***

Demon's opinion of the Goddess was also dropping to a new low as he hurried through the streets of Silva. Everywhere he looked, merchants and customers alike turned away and drew the crescent moon upon themselves, calling upon the power of the moon to protect them from evil. It almost made the assassin want to throttle a few, just to prove to them how useless their holy signs were, but he restrained himself.

Barely.

Unlike the Hylian and Aratian cities he was familiar with, the streets of Silva formed a grid within the town walls. All ran either north-south or east-west, and seemed to be precisely planned, which supported Demon's suspicion that the city had begun as a military fort. Even though that time seemed long past, the presence of large numbers of soldiers and mercenaries on the streets made it clear that the original purpose was still being fulfilled. Silva was the last bastion of civilization before the dangerous wilderness of the mountains, and it was, apparently, under a constant state of siege.

Demon turned onto another street, and felt the tile of the inner city give way to stone under his feet. The Terminians had use stone on all the outer streets to allow the passage of greater numbers of animals and carts, which the decorative tile of the inner city would never have withstood. Consequently, one could easily tell the distance to the walls by the material of the street they travelled, a fact Demon had quickly turned to his advantage in the large, unfamiliar city. His pace quickened as he tried to outdistance the whispers and gestures that ran like forest fires on either side of him, but it was futile effort.

With Zelda preoccupied counseling the relational issues of Kashi and Katie, and Omar beside himself with worry for his friend, Demon had seen no reason to remain at the inn for longer than necessary. He had hoped to find a quiet place from which to observe the flow of the city, and maybe begin to understand the ways of Termina before he progressed any farther into the country, but the attention his presence inspired made such plans impossible. Fortunately, just when he had been about to give up, a single runner, battered, bruised, and wearing the insignia of Prince Garret himself had rounded a corner and almost crashed straight into Demon. He was disarmed and had his own knife at his throat before either he, or the assassin, knew what was happening.

"I have an important message for the-" he spat, before recognizing the assassin. "Oh, greetings Demon. I apologize for my haste, but I must report to the garrison and-"

"The Prince?" Demon barked. "Is he alive?"

The soldier gave him a dark look, but not a surprised one, and the assassin guessed that his warnings to Garret had not been entirely unfounded. "Of course." the man answered, "In fact he is marching on the gate as we speak." His gaze flicked down to the knife which still hovered at his throat. "Now I must report…"

Nodding unapologetically, Demon slipped the knife back into the soldier's belt and strode away, having suddenly found a purpose to his venture. Behind him, the soldier threw a silent curse at his back, but the assassin was too preoccupied to notice. And thus Demon had found himself searching for the gate, and the prince who would soon return through it.

There. A parting in the buildings ahead of him revealed the city wall, and the jutting projection of a gatehouse. It was only one of four gates that led into the city, but this one, the West Gate, was the only one that faced the mountains. As Demon approached a sudden surge of activity cleared the street as the thick wooden doors began to creak open, ill-fitting hinges groaning in protest. The assassin had arrived right in time to see the returning prince and his guard.

It was not quite the glorious entrance the crowd was expecting of their prince, but still better than what Demon had feared. The ragged ranks of soldiery which trickled through the gate marched with their heads high, but defeat written everywhere else. Most were bloodied, their gold and dun uniforms showing the signs of heavy battle, and the company was noticeably smaller than the one which had set out so proudly the day before. _There have been widows made this day_, Demon lamented grimly,_ wives left without husbands and children made fatherless. And for what? Garret should have returned with us when he had the chance._

The prince himself entered last, supported on either side by his captain and bodyguard. He had taken a heavy slash to his right thigh, and the line of pain written on his face spoke volumes of the agony-drenched retreat back to Silva. His eyes swept over the crowd until they locked on Demon's, and he gave the assassin a curt nod.

Upon seeing their revered prince, the crowd erupted into ragged cheering, which grew in both volume and power as more of the city's citizenry arrived. For them, Garret's heroics were legendary. He was their hero, the greatest captain Termina had produced in generations, and he could do no wrong. Revived by the cheers of adoration, Garret straightened and waved to the crowd, grinning through the pain.

The parade atmosphere followed the small company right up to the barracks entrance, where the common people handed over their heroes to the soldiers within. Demon, who had followed the spectacle from the gate, slipped in with the stragglers. The iron bars closed with a crash behind him, and the company dissolved into groups of twos and threes which staggered off in the direction of the mess hall. Garret knew his men, knew the exhaustion which they were barely keeping at bay, and so he allowed them to leave without the customary address usually given by a commander at the end of a mission. In his head, Demon gave the prince a mark of approval for his actions.

Garret himself was limping painfully towards his own chambers, still supported by his captain and bodyguard. Catching up with them, the assassin tapped the captain on the shoulder and took his place at the prince's side. Garrett leaned thankfully on the fresh support and his carefully maintained composure began to dissolve under the waves of pain and fatigue which assailed him. "Twilight-cursed horse died underneath me a league from the walls," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Toc here's had quite the job keeping me upright since then."

Demon paused, remembering that the entire company had been on foot when he had come upon them up in the mountains. "You were lucky to find the horse."

Laughing through clenched teeth, Garret sagged farther onto their shoulders. "Must have been one of the merchant's, we caught it running wild on the upper slopes."

He was now almost entirely supported by Toc and Demon, who carried him gingerly through the mess hall, down a short hallway, and into a dark room. By the standard of Hylian royalty, it would hardly have qualified as anything more than a closet, but Demon sensed that Garret was a soldier first, prince second, and so such a room was more than enough for him. Sighing gratefully, he dropped to the bed, and Toc removed his boots before attempting to cut away the bloodstained bandages around the wound.

Two healers arrived moments later and took over from Toc with the characteristic fussiness of physicians. Garret gratefully subjected himself to their ministrations, although he raised an eyebrow as one pulled a needle from his bag and began to thread it. "Be careful with that," he muttered, "I wouldn't want to have to banish you from the kingdom."

To Demon, the threat seemed to be a worn joke between the two. The healer gave the prince a weary smile, and continued threading his needle.

"How is the princess?" Garret asked as he turned his attention to the assassin.

"Much recovered. She is thankful for your Terminian hospitality." Demon replied automatically.

"Good!" The prince brightened, then winced as one of the healers dabbed a steaming green liquid into his wound. "By the Twilight man! It hurts enough already!"

"My apologies prince." The man breathed, pouring more of the green brew onto his cloth.

"There are enough moblins in those mountains to overrun this province." Garret was focused once more on Demon. "I am sorry to say I had not believed your description of their numbers, but-" he swore bitterly as the man with the rag dabbed away, "You were right. And among them they have creatures I have not seen before."

He tried to sit up, felt his mistake, and collapsed back to the mattress. "Big as bears, armor so thick even our longbows couldn't punch through it, and so strong…"

Demon nodded. "In Hyrule we call them Darknuts, the Princess and I battled some in Kakariko."

New respect bloomed in Garret's eyes. "How many? One of those creatures cut two of my guard in half with a single swing!"

"Three." In a brief flash he remembered Husam's pale face, his laboured breathing growing weaker as blood pooled around him. "But we did had help."

"Wait." Garret's eyes were wide as his incredulity overcame his pain. "You said the princess helped you fight them?"

"Yes. She had no choice." The assassin didn't feel like elaborating. He wasn't sure how much of Zelda's magical ability he should reveal to this man, even if he was their ally. Thankfully, Garret didn't pursue the subject.

"Tomorrow," the prince began, " I respectfully ask that Princess Zelda accompany me to Clocktown. We must meet with my father to discuss the future. Gah!" Pain resonated across his face. "I don't understand the world anymore. First we have a winter like none in a hundred years, and now the news that Aratia has allied with monsters to take Hyrule!"

Demon shrugged. "The Hylians say it is the turning of the Cycle." He muttered. "They say that unless their heroes appear… this is the end of the world."

"You mean the Hero of Time." His brow furrowed, the prince seemed to have forgotten his wound. "I have often wondered who will appear to claim that title."

The assassin was no longer comfortable with the conversation, or the unfriendly looks the healers kept throwing him. They wanted him out, and Demon wanted to leave.

"If you will be fit to travel tomorrow, than I'm sure the Princess will consent to come with you."

"And you?" Garret asked curiously. "What has driven you to this land? There are rumours already, rumours that will make you many enemies if they are true."

The assassin shrugged. "You have Toc, Zelda has a Demon. As to rumours, I have only heard lies." He wasn't Zelda's lover, no matter what poison the townspeople were spreading amongst themselves. But worry flashed through him as he wondered what else they might whisper about. There had been many Terminian gladiators in the arenas.

A healer drove a particular vicious stitch into the prince's leg, turning the man's reply into a low hiss. Sensing his opportunity, Demon strode out of the room and left Garret at the mercy of his attendants. Soldier's stares followed him down the hallway and back out into the courtyard, some curious, some suspicious, some openly fearful.

***

"I don't understand it!" Zelda moaned, throwing a pillow violently across her bed. "They obviously love each other, even that block-head Omar can tell that. But they won't forgive!"

She was pacing, her boots scuffing across the rugs as her thinking carried her around the room. Five hours after shutting herself up with Kashi and Katie, she had emerged from the room quivering with frustration and framed by the shouting voices of the still-troubled couple. Nothing she had tried had worked, none of her carefully framed arguments, sympathies, exercises or mind games had helped. In the end Zelda had resorted to shouting as well, and the fact that she was consequentially hoarse was not helping her mood.

But it was the dull scrape of knife against stone, as Demon honed and re-honed his many knives, that was well nigh driving her over the edge. The assassin sat in the corner, his face a mask and his hands moving with murderous intensity. Zelda glared at him. "If you are planning on killing a certain innkeeper and my twit maid than please do the deed, but otherwise give me quiet!"

"I think I'll sleep outside the door tonight," ignoring the princess, Demon had started his own thought. "You'll have to keep the shutters closed on the windows, but it is an acceptable risk.

Rage coursed through the princess, battering at her rationality. "Listen to me, stop it with those Goddess-cursed knives!"

Instantly all noise ceased, plunging the room into an equally depressing silence. Zelda slumped backwards onto her bed, and glanced over to where the assassin sat. Demon was pushing the knife and stone back into their places, the edge of the weapon only slightly sharper than the look he was shooting back at her. For a moment, Zelda was tempted to start an argument, just so she could rage at someone after so many hours of playing diplomat, but only for a moment. Antagonizing the man would achieve nothing.

"If you want a separate room, I'm sure the innkeeper would oblige." She said, a little less harshly. "But you did not complain when we shared a room in Kakoriko."

"The people of Kakoriko are not a bunch of gossiping fishwives."

For a moment the princess just stared, then she laughed, and the major part of her frustration melted away. "I would rather have my life than my honour Demon, if that is what they gossip about."

"I would rather you kept both princess." The assassin pulled out dagger and whetstone, then flinched and stowed them back, looking rather guilty. "Garret wants to return to Clocktown tomorrow."

"Did he say why?"

Demon shrugged. "He's a man of action. He knows your plight and has seen the moblin hordes. I believe he is on our side princess."

"Good." Breathed Zelda. "But then I knew he would be. The King will be much harder to convince, especially once he…" She trailed off, streams of thought flickering through her head. "Clocktown is only a day's travel East. That means we could be in the royal court by tomorrow night! Goddesses that doesn't give us much time!"

Demon glanced at her quizzically. "Time princess? Time for what?"

"Preperations! Strategies! First of all, I have no dress worthy of a royal court, and my only attendant," She looked the assassin up and down. "Is disguised as a street lunatic."

Ignoring Demon scowl, she kept pacing. "Second, we have little knowledge of the customs of the Terminian. How will I approach the King, how should I present my case? If the Terminian nobility worship the Maiden as fervently as the commoners than do they even believe in the Cycle?"

"Garret does." Offered Demon. "He has made that clear."

"Garret is not a good example of royalty." The princess had developed a rhythm, twelve steps from the edge of her bed to the door and then back again. "I suspect that he is much distanced from Clocktown, despite his popularity with the people. He is my friend and he is a great captain, but he does not yet rule this country."

"And yet as Crown Prince he is a powerful voice in the King's ear. You could use him princess."

Zelda shook her head vehemently, even as she continued pacing. "I don't use my friends Demon."

The assassin unsheathed one of his throwing knives and tested the edge with his fingernail. "Even to save your kingdom?"

"Even to save Hyrule." Zelda affirmed.

Demon tossed the knife casually into the air and watched it sink deep into the carpeted floor._ You are lying princess_, he thought,_ I am the proof. _He yanked the knife out of the floor, and realized that the sound of Zelda's pacing had ceased. When he raised his head, he found she had stopped in mid-stride, and turned to look at him.

"Do you doubt me Demon?" Her words were blank, but the assassin could tell she was hurt.

"I will follow you," he began, already knowing it was the wrong thing to say, "no matter what you do."

Zelda stiffened and turned away, her slim shoulders rigidly square. Then they slumped. "I…I hope I am worthy of your trust Demon. I want my country to be free again. Sometimes I wonder what price I would not pay."

The assassin's knife imbedded itself into the floor, tearing another hole in the elaborate carpet. He could think of nothing to say that wouldn't demoralize Zelda further, but something had to be said. He studied the princess's form for a moment, than heard his own voice break the silence. "Some prices must be paid."

***

"You abandoned me." She screamed, he shrill voice ringing from beneath blood-shot eyes, "You abandoned your own betrothed!"

"We've been over this a hundred times!" Kashi roared back, his massive presence positively vibrating with anger. "I didn't abandon you, I was chased out of town by that moblin-cursed father of yours! If you want someone to blame, blame him!"

Katie was livid. "He would never have hurt you, you hairy oaf! He was testing you!"

Kashi pointed one trembling finger at the maid. "Your father," he began, "your father tried to hack off my manhood with an axe! The man is raving maniac!"

"Well he must have succeeded." Katie screamed back. "No real man would have abandoned me on my wedding day!"

Outside the room Omar winced. He retreated furtively from the door and the ensuing round of curses and blasphemy, while at the same time marveling at the creativity of the enraged couple. They had been locked together in the room for the greater part of a day, and still Omar had yet a to hear a single oath repeated. Indeed some of the curses, usually Katie's, had been so blasphemous the soldier had found himself rubbing the crescent moon tattoo on his palm. Just in case.

Author's Note:

Just so you guys know, I should not be publishing this right now. I just spent the majority of three days of valuable study time writing the longest chapter in the history of "Forgotten Demons" (Chapter 60, a meager 18 pages), INSTEAD of doing useful things such as studying, researching, and Calculus homework. I have been a very bad student.

Unfortunately, I got sucked into writing it after I read a couple chapters of "Hero of the Wolves" by The Wolfess, while riding the bus to and from my university. Whenever I read a Zelda fanfic I start working on my own story, which leads to some depressing situations grade-wise. The basic moral is don't let your sons grow up to be writers, because they'll probably start writing one day and forget to eat or sleep and eventually starve to death. And that would be very embarrassing for you as a parent. :-)

Anyway, the end of this chapter is the first bit of recent work you've seen from me in a while. The rest of this chapter was basically written in early 2009. I personally am excited because after I write chapter 61 I'll get to begin publishing things that are extremely recent and coherent, and not the confused ramblings that some of the last few have been. I am taking a Playwriting class right now which is forcing me to evaluate how I write dialogue, and has led to some significant changes in both how I present character, and I have character's speak. It's a sharp learning curve, but I just finished writing a 10 minute play on the Biblical book of Leviticus that is probably one of my favourite creative pieces in the last year. For those of you who are writing Fanfics which require you to create a religion, I strongly recommend a read-through of Leviticus, it may give you some ideas. Truth is generally stranger than fiction, right?

I am deeply thankful to all of you who took the time to send me info on Majora's mask. I have actually changed some of my outline for this story to include several of your suggestions, and I'm really excited about the anticipated result. I especially want to point out Parselmaster, whose memory and quality of information was magnificent.

Please review!

Celeborn00


	58. Chapter 58

Chapter 58

By the time they finally arrived back at the inn, Zelda and Demon were still on speaking terms, but just barely. Zelda had spent the evening dragging the assassin and a retinue of maids into shop after shop, visiting seamstresses, tailors and jewelers alike. She had gotten her dress, her bearing, and her looks; Demon had received a new uniform (still black), a new haircut, a multitude of pinpricks and several scoldings. While he had not refused the changes the way he had in Kakoriko, Zelda could tell that she had pushed the assassin to the edge, and perhaps a little beyond it.

As consequence, the princess found him singularly uncommunicative for the rest of the night. Although they received their lavish dinner together in their room, Zelda was unable to start a conversation and resigned herself to the silence. She had much to think on already, without adding a sulky assassin to the mix.

The silence continued all through the night, and into the morning, and both companions readied themselves for their journey without breaking it. It was only after both retired to separate rooms to don their new attire that Zelda managed to get a reply out of her companion.

The new dress she had purchased was on Garret's credit, so it was neither as fine or as well-fitted as she would have allowed herself on her own coin, but it was a dress fit for royalty. Soft pinks and creamy whites flowed evenly across the skirt and bodice, contrasting a hastily embroidered Triforce which designated her as Hylian royalty. By several subtle (yet time consuming) hair arrangements Zelda had highlighted her elfin features, and managed to set off her eyes with a pair of sapphire earrings. A thin circlet of gold was the only crown she wore, a subtle reminder of her both her station and her heritage. The overall effect was so altered, even form the day before, that it shocked Demon out of his silence.

The princess was facing the mirror, her back to the door, when he entered, and so it was his sharp intake of breath, rather than his form, which alerted her to his presence. She smiled and half-turned, keeping her eyes on the mirror.

"You look," he said his voice harsh as always, "You look-"

"Different?" The Princess suggested, smiling. Then she turned the rest of the way, and had to stifle a gasp as well.

Although she had seen the changes the night before, the princess had not realized how little Demon resembled himself, dressed in uniform, clean-cut and bathed. The biggest difference, she found, was his slight smile, which positively transformed his face. For a moment Zelda could almost believe she had found her Hero, indeed his face was identical to the tapestry which had hung in her chamber in Hyrule Castle.

"You look different too." She managed, and saw Demon's smile slowly fade at her surprise. "I didn't mean-"

"Thank you princess." The assassin walked across the room to stand stiffly at her shoulder. "Garret awaits us downstairs."

They walked down together, suddenly reluctant to leave the safety of the inn. Their packs, those small dirty bundles they brought so far and under such harsh conditions seemed a little incongruous compared to the companion's present finery, but Zelda asked a maid to bring them anyway. Somehow, even their smallest contents seemed precious, especially the torn and dirty Shieken suit that Zelda had pulled from her closet so many months before. The Princess also claimed several items from the inn, paying for them with the last of Demon's stash of rupees. Altogether, the pile of their belongings was pitifully small, like the accumulated treasure of one of the alms beggars in the meanest street of CastleTown.

"We are in-between." She muttered to Demon, "We have both rags and riches."

Looking puzzled, Demon studied the pile. "There are the rags, but where?" Then he looked down at the rich material and vibrant ensignia of his new uniform. "I see. Clever, princess."

She smiled. "Not really. Where's Garret?"

Demon pointed out through a large window to a carriage sitting in front of the inn. The wheeled contraption was a mass of silver and jet, the interworked materials in the shape of the moon in it's many phases. Even the hubs of its wheels were cover in large silver plates to represent the apex of the lunar calendar, while the insignia of House Termina rippled from several flagposts at the back of the carriage. Most impressively, three teams of pure white stallions stamped impatiently in harnesses, their coats gleaming in the new spring air.

Garret approached from a corner of the inn, his handsome face beaming. "Do you like it Princess? The royal coach is rarely used, but I believed this occasion appropriate."

"The coach is beautiful," The princess replied in a hushed voice. "But it pales against those horses."

Garret's smile slipped a little. "Yes, their breed is the finest in Termina...or was. The ranch that bred them was located very near the mountains, and yesterday I received the news it had been destroyed by moblins. These six are among the few who escaped."

"I have a friend," Zelda began, "who owned a ranch with her father in Hyrule. I suspect…their horses met a similar fate."

Garret winced, sympathy apparent in his brown eyes. "War destroys beauty the way fire burns forests. Eventually, all that remains is smoke. But-" He motioned for them to follow as he walked towards the front of the inn. "I am grateful that these six at least could be saved from the flames. I wish the same luck upon your friend princess."

"You have my gratitude." Zelda replied as she followed him. Within moments they were within the carriage, their meager belongings were loaded, and the sound of clicking hooves jerked them into motion. The princess, whose experience had led her to anticipate a very bumpy ride, was pleasantly surprised by how smoothly the carriage moved. She asked Garret about it, and he explained that a series of springs beneath their compartment absorbed most of the shock.

"It makes a man soft to travel in such comfort." He grumbled. "Some of the nobles enjoy these contraptions so much, they have forgotten how to ride!"

Smiling, Zelda settled back into the heavily padded bench, marveling at how the black silk slipped against her the skin of her neck. "If you wish to walk to Clocktown instead Prince, than you may. I personally will enjoy becoming soft."

Laughing, Garret bowed his head in mock apology. "You always were a funny one princess, even when we were little. But look! Here are the people to cheer us on!"

Crowds were gathering to line the streets, waving gold and dun banners and brimming with excitement. It was obvious to Zelda that it was not her that they were cheering, but she was silently thankful to Garret for the inclusive gesture anyway. She stared out of the carriage's small window and wished wholeheartedly for a different city and a different time, mourning that her own people were in no state to cheer anything.

Than she and Demon started as Garret opened up the opposite door and swung his upper body precariously out to wave at the crowd. The chant "Long Live Prince Garret!" started somewhere and spread quickly down the street. Giving a mock bow in acknowledgement, Garret spurred the people on to greater effort until their voices melded into a verbal storm of adulation.

Twenty of the Prince's men had been chosen as an honor guard to escort the royal carriage to Clocktown. These men, outfitted in ceremonial finery and riding the best mounts in Silva's stables, appeared from a sidestreet just as the carriage approached the East Gate. As members of Garret's personal guard they had replaced the gold and dun uniforms of Termina's Army with the black and silver colours of the royal family. Their helmets were elongated and curved in the likeness of a crescent moon, a style with reminded Zelda faintly of Zora armor. Garrett saluted them as they absorbed the carriage into the middle of their formation and marched stoicly through the gate.

It was the second time in two days that the princess had seen one of Silva's great gates rising above her, and as she glanced through her window at the approaching countryside she hoped that, this time, no great danger would await her beyond the city's walls. The blue skies that stretched welcomingly over the hills held no secrets, but Zelda noted how the guards all kept a hand close to their swords. The awakening Spring brought only sunshine and peaceful birdsong to their ears, but Silva was too close to the moblin-infested mountains for any of the company to feel safe. It would be a pity to fall to an ambush after having so recently escaped the monsters' clutches.

Garret, apparently, had been mirroring her worries. "My usual honor guard is only ten soldiers." He mused. "But for your sake I doubled it. I doubt such a measure is necessary, but precautions which prove unneeded are always much superior to the alternative." He leaned down to reach underneath his seat and pulled out a sheathed blade. "I have my sword," He eyes twinkled, "But where is yours, princess?"

Zelda instinctively touched her hip, and then turned slightly pink. Her weapon was with her pack, which bothered her, but she was also bothered that it's absence bothered her. When had she grown so used to wearing it? "I believe you exaggerate my skills prince." The words were dry. "My blade might prove less useful than you think."

"She has the potential." Demon broke in, turning his head from the window to surprise both the royals. "But I have not had time to train her. Our time together has been rather…"

"Chaotic." Zelda finished. Her thoughts flashed back through the Great Forest, the blizzard, Kakoriko Village, and then their harrowing journey through the mountain pass. "Demon has had little time for anything other than saving my skin."

"Than I commend him. It is a skin worth saving." Garret's eyes flashed excitement as he laughed at his own joke. Zelda laughed with him, and darted a glance towards Demon to see if he was doing the same. But his face revealed a combination of things that the princess could not read.

"I know many men who would envy your position." The prince continued, this time to Demon. "Bodyguard to a beautiful woman, travelling always in her company, even sleeping in her chamber…"

The assassin twitched and knives slid into his palms at the same time that Zelda placed a firm, but gentle hand upon his shoulder. Her level gaze was centered on Garret. "Then you have heard the rumors." She said. "I am saddened you would think them worth repeating."

"Only to you," the prince replied, immediately serious. "And only because I am worried about the effect such rumors will have upon your reputation. I am sorry to have offended you," The apology was directed at the assassin. "Sometimes I make light of things that worry me, it is my nature."

Slowly Demon relaxed, and the knives slid back into hidden sheaths. Zelda suddenly realized that an unintended effect of his change to a looser uniform was his ability to hide most of his weapons. Now it was anybody's guess how many knives he wore.

The assassin waited until Zelda removed her hand, and then met her eyes. "From now on I sleep outside." His tone was dead, but the remnant of anger floated like embers upon it. "So the princeling will no longer suspect me of any indecency."

Garret winced. "Insult for insult. I guess it is deserved, if hard to bear. But the matter is settled. In Clocktown we will appoint a whole female regiment to guard the princess, and Demon can finally sleep in his own chamber. Agreed?"

Zelda nodded first, a little reluctantly, and then so did Demon. Both understood the necessity.

"What will it be like in Clocktown?" Zelda asked, eager both to discuss politics, and end the previous conversation.

Grimacing, Garret peered out the window at the rolling countryside. "I could tell you many stories princess, but the truth is I don't know much myself. I visit the capital only between campaigns, and then only for a few days at a time. If there was something specific…?"

Zelda sighed. "You are a blunt man Garret, and so I will be blunt with you. Do you guess, at least, why I came to Termina?"

His dark eyes studied her for a moment, and then he spoke, his voice full of anticipation. "You came for the same reason I would, in your position. You wish to raise an army." He thumped himself on the chest. "I will lead that army princess. I've seen the moblins, and I believe your story."

"But I hadn't even asked for your help yet." Replied Zelda, a little shocked. "You would commit your own country so easily?"

"Of course." Garret grinned. Noting Zelda and Demon's incredulous stares, he continued a little more seriously. "We still remember the Goddesses here in Termina, whatever the Maiden worshippers may say, and we still remember the Cycle. I have seen the signs, princess, and Demon," he glanced at the assassin, "has assured me the end is coming. If Aratia has allied with the monsters as you claim, than they have joined with the Great Evil and must be defeated."

"But-" pausing, he compulsively gripped the hilt of his sword. "Many of Termina's nobles will not understand this, especially those who follow that abominable priest and his Maiden cult. I have no influence in the capital, and I suspect that many of the nobles think I am a fool."

"Maybe they are wiser than you think." Demon muttered, still angered.

Zelda turned to give him a frustrated look, but it was Garret who spoke. "I have no quarrel with you Demon, and I have already apologized for my words. What else do you want of me?"

The assassin glared at him, acutely aware of the various weapons concealed about his person. He did not speak.

Exasperated, the princess crossed her arms and leaned over to hiss in his ear. "Look assassin, you have vowed to help me, yet your words do nothing for my cause. Right now I need neither your anger nor your blades, but instead your trust. Please."

Restraint. Demon clenched his gauntleted fists once more. She was asking for restraint. He closed his eyes and forced the anger back down into the darkness, so that, when his eyes opened, the red was gone. "I am sorry prince." He began. "My anger spoke through me. If you are a friend of the princess than you are my friend as well."

"You apology is accepted my friend." The tension was broken as Garret and Demon both nodded agreement. "Not that I would dare challenge one such as you." Laughing, he surprised the assassin by grabbing his hand and clasping it with his own. "You and I have much in common Demon. Neither of us can control our tongues. Hah!"

"And yet both your tongues must be controlled if we are to succeed in winning over the Terminian court." Zelda reminded them. She seemed about to ask another question when she spotted a small red stain on Garett's leg and frowned. "You're bleeding prince."

The prince shrugged bravely. "Tis a scratch given to me in the mountains. It will heal in a couple of days."

Demon remembered the full extent of the wound, and silently disagreed. It would be months before Garret would be able to lead another patrol, even if he didn't succeed in bursting his stitches with his own antics. That the prince was not displaying any of the anguish he was surely experiencing showed courage.

The princess, unaware of Garret's half-truth, was apparently satisfied. "Once again I thank you for rescuing the merchants and me. We are in your debt.

"Only my duty princess. Only my duty." He smiled winningly, but Demon noticed him subtly move his leg to a more comfortable position.

The conversation lapsed in a comfortable pause as all three travelers peered out the carriage windows at the passing countryside. In a matter of days wildflowers had sprung from seedlings to full bloom, filling the scenery with refreshing burst of colour. In some pastures, a few desperately skinny cows gorged themselves on the abundant spring growth, while occasionally calling mournfully to the many farmers out sowing their first crops. As if determined to make up for the season's late start, everything seemed to be growing at a rate ten times that of normal.

The few farmhouses they saw were depressingly gray and run-down. Zelda shivered, wondering what it would have been like to spend the previous winter trapped in such a desperate structure.

"Look." Demon breathed, and pointed out a particular farm. A massive crescent moon had been recently etched into the side of the barn. The next barn they passed bore the same symbol, along with the two after it.

"The sign of the Maiden." Garret's words held none of the reverence Demon and Zelda had come to expect from the name, and they shot him a questioning look.

The prince shrugged. "You will understand my disbelief when we arrive in Clocktown. The Maiden cult only started a few years ago, but it is quickly becoming a serious threat to my father and his rule. Most of the peasants are now firm believers in the Maiden, forgetting the Goddesses altogether."

"The cult…started?" Zelda replied, trying to wrap her mind around the concept. The three Goddesses had been engrained into Hylian tradition since the beginning of time, or so the stories told.

Shifting on his seat, the prince stretched his leg once again. "Aye, started. It began with a single so-called prophet, travelling between villages performing signs and miracles. At first they were the only the harmless troubadour sort, but soon he began to show real power. Some in the villages refused to listen, at least until a daughter or brother was found…empty." Garret's hands cupped the air, as he struggled to explain. "Alive, but like an ocean shell, the person gone. The prophet said it was punishment from the Maiden, and so, through faith or fear, her worship spread across the land."

Zelda frowned, puzzled. "But many of the merchant company seemed to love the Maiden. Few would love the goddess you describe."

"Omar especially seemed loyal to her." Demon interjected, adding "The guard captain" for Garret's benefit."

"A man needs something to believe in. Whether it is forced upon him or not." The prince explained. "But many in Termina secretly doubt she exists, whatever they may say."

Zelda turned to Demon. "I'm not sure that Omar is as loyal to her as you think. Corwyn told me he was ranting blasphemy yesterday, calling on the Maiden to-" She worked hard to keep her face serious, " 'Blight his crops and close his womb.' "

The carriage seemed to freeze for a moment and then both Demon and Garret both started coughing. Tears came to Garret's eyes as he masked his silent laughter behind a shielding hand. "I- HA!" He coughed again, and took a deep breath. "I was previously impressed with your guard captain's prowess, now I am awed by his wit! I believe I'm promoting him to my personal regiment. His name was Omar, you said?"

"Yes." Demon shook his head bewilderedly. "But I hardly believe it. During our flight down the mountain he had me almost convinced she existed."

Garret shrugged again. "As I said, a man needs something to believe in, especially when peering through Death's door."

"And yet the Maiden is much worshipped in Termina." Reminded Zelda, after her own silent giggles had subsided. "What happened to the prophet you spoke of?"

"He is now the second-most powerful man in the country, after my own father. He calls himself the Moonlord." The scorn was evident in Garret's tone. "As if he were the Maiden's consort."

"Are those who oppose him still found…empty?" Demon asked.

"My father ordered him to make the Maiden stop the punishments. They stopped, but only after he forced the royal family to adopt her as a symbol," He motioned to the carriage and the two Destined remembered the silver moons which emblazoned the outside, "And to allow a temple to be built in Clocktown itself." His anger building, the prince smote the seat beside him. "The man makes a fool of my father while seducing his people!"

Demon and Zelda waited as the prince slowly gained control over himself. He had gone from laughter to anger so quickly that both realized the seriousness of the issue they had stumbled upon.

"Do you believe he wishes to rule Termina?" Zelda probed carefully.

Fingers wrapped comfortingly around the hilt of his sword, Garret paused for a moment before replying. "I do not know princess. The man is a fanatic and his motivations are unknown to me. But I know this:" the prince's eyes roved between the princess and her bodyguard. "He will tolerate no talk of the Cycle, or allow Termina to enter your war."

Zelda's eyes flashed determination. "Than we will have to convince him."

...........

"By the Goddesses!" Kashi swore, or at least attempted to. His voice, abused by a day of shouting, was barely a whisper. "They left me behind!"

Once more he read over the hastily scrawled note, written in the princess's own hand. The first several lines were profuse apologies explaining her and Demon's sudden departure, followed by an invitation to Kashi to join the two of them in Clocktown as quickly as he could. "We thought," Zelda had written at the bottom, beneath her signature, "you might need some time with Katie first."

Some friends they were.

Looking surprisingly nervous for such a big man, Kashi peeked around a corner into the other room, noting the maid's form still curled up in a chair. She had collapsed into it the night before in the middle of one particularly brazen insult and fallen asleep almost immediately. Kashi had been about to retort in kind, but something stopped him. He'd realized then how hollow Katie's face had become, and how exhausted he himself was after all the shouting. Collapsing onto the bed, the big innkeeper had decided it was for the best. _After all,_ he had mused drowsily, _we can just continue in the morning._

But now it was morning, and Kashi didn't think he had much fight left in him. He had screamed, he had ranted, he had reasoned, even roared, and the maid had replied to everything with equal fury. Unintimidated by his size, her eyes and words had exploded with the hurt of what he had done to her, and Kashi was, bit by bit, beginning to feel guilty. "Bloody woman!" The painful whisper was inadequate to the feeling he put into it. "Bloody, bloody woman!"

"Kashi?" The slight sound came floating quietly from the other room. "Kashi?"

Grumbling, the innkeeper thumped around the corner and prepared to receive a fresh onslaught. Katie was standing unsteadily in front of the chair, searching mournfully for some sign of her companion.

"Oh! There you are! I thought," her whisper clouded. "Thought maybe you left again."

"No." He said.

Silently, they stared at each other for a second.

"Your voice…" She whispered.

"Yours too." He couldn't help but snort, which set off a painful bout of coughing.

"Kashi." His name was all she could say as she picked her way through the debris that littered the floor. "Kashi."

She reached him, and to the innkeeper's eternal surprise, attempted to wrap her arms around his thick torso. "I've missed you," her voice scratched happily.

For a moment, the innkeeper couldn't have said anything if he'd tried. "Bloody woman," he attempted to growl, the sound coming as a hoarse sob. "Bloody woman." Unconsciously, his arms found their way around her as well.

...........

Author's Note:

I am actually surprisingly happy with this chapter, even if I just realized that none of my divisions work properly, so a lot of times my story suddenly changes scenes between paragraphs with no warning. Sorry readers, there were division, but apparently this fanfiction format doesn't recognize them.

Anyway, I am done Calculus, so I should have more time to write, although working full-time does tend to suck the creativity out of me. So we'll see.

This chapter is meant to give a lot of background info for the coming confrontations. This stint in Termina will be my first experience having to work with multiple plot threads at the same time within a complicated situation, so please be patient with me. That said, I would much appreciate you guys pointing out my mistakes so I can work on them. I need the help.

How do you guys like Garret? Is he coming across okay? I know he doesn't have a lot of character yet, but I think it's enough to have a general impression. And don't get too disgusted with Kashi/Katie, they are still factors in this story.

Thanks for reading and please review!

Celeborn00


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 59

A wolf has been sent to tempt you

O sons of Termina

A lamb has been sent to tempt you

O daughters of Termina

A shadow is coming to you

With eyes of flame

A remnant is returning to you

With hearts aflame

They bring doubt my sons

You must stand firm!

They seek compassion my daughters

You must stand firm!

The test is coming my people

You will know it is come

When the wolf and lamb walk together

They will arrive in twilight…

-From the Book of the Moon

The sky was fading to pinks and greys by the time the royal carriage reached the outskirts of Clocktown. Unlike most capitals, Clocktown had no exterior walls to protect it from attack, and so the city spiraled outwards from its central core, vulnerable and bloated. Regardless, it was still beautiful. The setting sun gleamed from millions of pink sandstone blocks as it slowly set into the west, and, squinting against it, Zelda could just make out the silhouette of the large clock tower from which the city got its name. That tower, she knew, was their destination.

They had travelled twenty leagues in a day, only stopping twice to harness fresh horses and rest the score of guards that accompanied them. Zelda still felt guilty that she had spent the journey in the ease of the carriage while her guards endured a grueling ride, but Garret had assured her that the men from his company were used to much worse treatment. "On campaign we might run twenty leagues before breakfast." He'd grinned. "Besides, most of these men's families are in Clocktown. They begged to accompany us!" The princess had laughed and let the matter rest; although she did not forget it. It was nice to travel like royalty again, but Zelda did not want to go 'soft', as Garret put it, and forget the sacrifices of others around her.

As they passed the first buildings, Zelda and Demon took turns commenting on the architecture, noting the circular design and clever sandstone construction. The princess had been initially puzzled by the flat-roof of each dwelling, since it made little sense in Termina's wet climate. She had begun to suspect they were used as a giant catchment system. Her biggest clues were the sections of copper pipe embedded into the stone that guided rainwater down from the roof of the building into barrels. Without a natural water-source, the residents of Clocktown had had to find their own. Zelda approved their ingenuity, although she wondered what happened during droughts.

A few streets farther they were a met by a procession of heralds. Several blew trumpets, their black and silver uniforms vibrating with the effort, while others interspersed their companion's blasts with the announcement of, "Zelda Harkinian, Princess of Hyrule," and "Garret Telcontar, Crown-Prince of Termina." The official fanfare was enormous, although Garret's eyes darkened as he noted how small the crowd was that came to greet them. Here and there along the street shutters were subtly closed or curtains drawn, as if the royal names were offensive to those within. The cheering from the small crowd also seemed to grow weaker, almost self-conscious, and some among their number began to duck back into the alleyways.

"The Moonlord's influence has grown strong indeed." Garret growled. "I am not welcome in my own capital."

"I believe it is I who am not welcome. Hyrule is strongly connected with the Goddesses," Zelda replied, but her words did not seem to comfort Garret. The prince stared morosely out the window, confounded by an atmosphere very different from the one he had enjoyed in Silva.

Gradually, the street began to widen as the procession approached the city center. Shops and public buildings appeared, and all the structures grew larger and more elaborate. Mosaics depicting heroic figures or lunar symbols decorated some of the more prominent homes, giving the city a vibrant, if gaudy, atmosphere. A few of the older, simpler scenes even depicted the Triforce, the golden triangles appearing like stars among the generic black and silver of the others.

Zelda found herself growing nervous. She had not expected the citizenry of Clocktown to shun the prince and her in such a manner, and wondered whether it really was the Moonlord's influence. How was she to enlist help from a people who already seemed to despise her? The question was, at the moment, unanswerable, but that did not prevent the princess from worrying about it for the rest of their journey.

"We've arrived." The prince leaned back away from the window to meet Zelda's gaze. "You remember the Hidden Palace princess?"

"No," she said, looking out the window herself only to find her view blocked by a massive wall. "I never visited Clocktown. We met at your father's summer palace."

"Did we?" Garret shook his head in embarrassment. "I beg your forgiveness, I had forgotten." Flexing his knee awkwardly, he pointed towards the wall. "The Hidden Palace is the winter residence of my father's court. It is also the only place in Termina where no commoner may tread. Everyone within, even the servants, are directly related to a noble family." He grimaced. "You understand why I do not come here often."

"And the people allow it?" Zelda asked, astounded. "They do not protest such disparity?"

"The practice has been in place for generations. Besides," the prince laughed somewhat bitterly, "you see the walls princess. The gate before us is the only entrance." The gate in question began to swing open. "The nobles believe it is their right, and the people accept it."

Demon watched the heralds and guards peel off to either side to allow the carriage passage, the driver hopping off to be replaced by one from inside the compound. "I'm no noble," he mentioned idly.

Garret's eyes widened. "Twilight!" he cursed. "I thought…"

With one motion, he ripped open the door and yelled a quick order the driver. Immediately, the carriage stopped, perfectly balanced between the outside city and the palace grounds.

"It is death for anyone not of noble birth to enter here," he announced, staring at Demon. "Who were your parents?"

"I…" the assassin glanced between the two royals. "I…never knew them." He met the princess's eyes for a moment before rejecting the sympathy they held.

Garret slumped in defeat. "I'm sorry assassin. You must wait here until I present your case to my father. Although, I doubt very much anything can be done."

"No!" The single syllable resounded from two throats at the same time, and Demon glanced at the princess, surprised that she had echoed him. "No!" she repeated, "I believe I have a better idea."

Turning to the assassin, she held out a hand. "Lend me one of your knives."

Confusion danced in his eyes as the assassin handed her one of the Bwa Kell, carefully pressing the hilt into her palm. As he eyed the blade, he suddenly regretted all the time he had spent sharpening it the day before. A single twitch with that weapon would take of a man's thumb, and if Zelda were to drop it…

Sweat prickled on Demon's brow. "Careful princess," he muttered.

The princess ignored him. "As monarch of Hyrule," she began, pressing her other hand carefully against her chest. "As Princess of the Harkinians, as the Chosen of the Goddesses, as Friend of the Goron, Zora, and Gerudo, as Destined of the Ancients, and as Protector of my People."

She peered into the assassin's eyes and laid the knife delicately upon his shoulder. Demon hissed quietly, uncomfortable with the situation. He remembered this moment, it had happened before.

"I empower you with the will and means to help my people. Do you accept this honor?"

There was a silence, stretching far too long within the walls of the carriage. Like a trapped animal, Demon could not escape the events which closed upon him. His past was constricting, suffocating, yet the words were pulled from him anyway.

"Yes." The assassin hissed between clenched teeth. "I am their sword. I am their shield. Their will is my will."

It was the princess's turn to pause. _Where had he learned that_? "Swear it." She finally managed.

Reaching to his shoulder, Demon wrapped his gauntleted hand around the princess's and pulled it so that his blade lay close to his neck. The first time he had taken this vow, the weapon had been a sword and Demon had pressed it to his skin, but the assassin knew that if he tried that with this blade he would slit his own throat.

"I swear." He rasped.

"Then rise, Lord Demon." The ritual completed, neither of them moved.

A snort destroyed the silence. "Lord Demon?" Garret laughed, his natural exuberance breaking the decorum. "Have you no proper name assassin?"

"No." Demon's gauntlet tightened on the weapon, causing the princess to gasp in pain. "My hand," she whispered. He muttered an apology as he carefully slid the weapon from her grip and sheathed it.

A knock sounded on the side of the carriage, and the door opened to show the face of their driver. "I am sorry my prince, but the guards wish to close the gate. May I drive on?"

Garret laughed. "At once!" The door shut and within moments the carriage was moving once more, carrying the two royals and a rather bemused lord up towards the palace. Life-size marble statues of previous Terminian kings lined the drive, the oldest wiped clean of their features by weathering, while the newest ones looked straight from the chisels of the stonemasons. Beneath the wheels of the carriage, the coarse stones of the outer city had transformed to interlocking marble slabs, which gleamed dully in the twilight. Although shadows were swiftly covering all, Demon and Zelda could see extensive gardens surrounding the drive.

"The Garden Quarter," Garret announced superfluously.

Turning to her bodyguard, questions gleamed in Zelda's eyes.

"Where did you learn that ritual?" She smoothed her skirt distractedly. "That answer is given by royals on the day of their coronation. Few know of it outside the Harkinian family."

The assassin shrugged warily and avoided her gaze. He now regretted not feigning ignorance, even though he had prided himself on remembering the words.

The princess's gaze strayed across his face as she tried to uncover the mind behind it. "One day," she whispered, "you will tell me."

The carriage rolled to a stop.

Garret waited until the driver opened the door before gingerly lowering himself out. "Allow me princess." He smiled, and Zelda gratefully took his hand as she forced her aching knees to carry her. Turning back to the assassin she caught him wearing a strange expression, at least until he realized she was looking and resolved his features. Demon's face went blank.

"I didn't forget your grace, the Lord Demon," Garret exclaimed pompously, offering his arm yet again.

Demon glared at the extended limb, pointedly avoiding it as he clambered stiffly from the carriage. "The Lord Demon," he growled. "skins those who touch him alive. It is his noble right."

Garret retracted his arm rather hastily; instead using it to buckle his sword securely at his hip. "Understood. Follow me then." He turned and strode carefully up the marble stairs towards…

The Clocktower.

Neither Zelda nor Demon could muster their wits to follow him, but instead found themselves overbalancing backwards, staring awestruck at the massive clock. Both had heard the stories, the speculations, and the impossibilities. Demon had even witnessed the clock once before, but his childish remembrance of it was nothing compared to its present physical presence.

Some said the Gods themselves built the clock, others said it was an ancient race of giants, but all agreed that when the first people explored the land the clock was already there. Built to an impossible height with strange materials, powered by an unknown source, the mechanism of the clock was housed in a cylindrical tower that reared twice the height of any other building in the city. At times ominous noises were said to rumble disturbingly from its interior, and Demon and Zelda had also heard that occasionally a great bell would ring, tolling a mournful three notes into the Terminian air.

Ironically, the purpose of the clock was as shrouded in mystery as its origin. According to sketches Zelda had seen, the face incorporated fifteen archaic symbols, and six arms, moving in a pattern that had proven completely undecipherable to countless generations of Terminian scholars. She squinted eagerly up at the tower, but was disappointed to find herself unable to locate the arms or the face in the gathering darkness.

"Please princess, we must hurry!" Garret called, and Zelda snapped her gaze down to see him turn away from a servant who had been addressing him. She strode up the stairs towards him and the entrance to the tower.

"It seems the news of your arrival in Termina reached Clocktown yesterday," he explained grimly. "The entire court has assembled to meet you."

"That is good is it not?" Zelda asked, puzzled by his tone.

"We shall find out."

He led the way forward, with Demon and Zelda falling into step behind him. They passed under a marble archway and down a long ramp, the corridor decorated with mosaics depicting important moments in Termina's history. A low humming reverberated through the air, barely audible at first, but growing steadily louder as they walked.

"The court meets underground?" The assassin's words were hard to recognize against the background noise.

Garret fell back to walk alongside his companions. "Not underground, inside the clock. Last winter the Moonlord convinced the council to return to the traditional throne of Termina, even though it has not been used in generations." He paused. "I apologize to you now princess. The way to the throne-room is still being repaired."

Abruptly the marble under their feet gave way to wooden slats; although the mosaics continued along the walls. Oily smoke from the few inadequate lamps seeped through cracks in the ceiling and floor, borne on mysterious currents. Then the three companions were rising once more as the walls gave way entirely to reveal the inner bowels of the clock tower.

The noise was thunderous. A thousand squeaks and a thousand groans intermingled in the stale air. Out of the darkness on either side the companions caught glimpses of churning rods and spinning cogs, their ancient teeth worn dull by age and use. They had ventured into a mechanized world, the belly of the machine, a madness of metal and wheels.

Zelda jumped as a rod, thick as her waist, came hurtling past the walkway and disappeared back into the upper-reaches of the tower. Only an arm's length away on her left, four pistons chugged furiously into a giant boiler. She remembered a time as a child when her father had shown her the inside of a mechanical music box, pointing to the dizzying array of cogs and gears, explaining how they worked together. That night she had a nightmare in which she was trapped inside the box, a nightmare that strongly resembled her present reality.

Ahead of her, the prince marched along the rising walkway, as if he could neither see nor hear the chaos that surrounded him. He led his two companions confidently through the maze of machinery with the easy air of one well accustomed to his surroundings, only pausing once to avoid a puddle of oily fluid that dripped from unseen heights above. Eventually, the walkway terminated against a wooden ladder rising through the center of a circular metal platform. Garret quickly began climbing.

Zelda and the assassin paused, experiencing a mutual distrust of both the ladder and their general location. A giant rotor directly beneath them created an updraft which tugged teasingly at the princess's skirt and the ends of her hair, both of which she was attempting to hang on to. Behind her, Demon was no more at ease, his gaze darting through the blackness as if sensing a multitude of dangers.

"We must follow princess," the assassin reminded her loudly, trying to make himself heard over the noise.

"I know!" the princess yelled back, but made no move towards the ladder.

Demon stared at her, waiting, yet Zelda didn't budge. "Princess?"

Zelda scowled. The assassin glanced at the ladder, and then down at the hem of the princess's fluttering skirt. Suddenly, embarrassed comprehension dawned in his eyes and he almost leapt forwards.

"Allow me to go first!" he shouted back to Zelda. The princess snorted. Had he really thought she'd let him follow her on the ladder, staring up her skirt the whole way? Her momentary indignation was quick forgotten though, as she remembered what awaited her at the top of the climb.

Moments later, the two Destined arrived in the strangest court either of them could have imagined. In the center of the metal disk they stood upon was the Terminian king, brown-haired and brown-eyed like his son, and seated upon a silver throne. Two other, smaller, seats flanked him, although only one was filled. The other flashed distractingly with the reflections of the king's council as they rotated slowly around his throne.

For, although the disk at the center of the chamber was stationary, the rings that encircled it were not. A sea of faces, all grave, surrounded the king on all sides. It must have taken amazing tenacity, but somehow the Terminians had managed to fix chairs to the ancient clockwork and convince their nobles to sit upon them. Consequently, the council orbited their king in the same fashion as the moon orbited the world. No member had a better seat than any other, no member had worse, but instead the unique nature of the chamber forced the council to at least symbolic equality.

The space above the their heads was filled with the same complex machinery as the rest of the tower. It turned and twisted, clicked and clanked, and yet created none of the cacophony that had so deafened the companions previously. Only after several moments of study did either Zelda or Demon perceive the thin magical ward, which separated the council chamber from the rest of the clock tower. They both appreciated the silence.

Behind the two Destined, Garret slammed a trapdoor down over the hole they had entered through. Zelda felt dozens of eyes upon her as the Terminians began to study the foreign monarch among them, eyes she was sure were judging her. Of course, she admitted as her eyes flicked from face to face, she too was judging them.

"Welcome Zelda Harkinian, last Princess of Hyrule."

The voice, which resounded throughout the court, was strong, even though the king's face was unreadable. The man sitting to the king's right shifted slightly in his chair, his face openly hostile.

"Welcome Garrett Telcontar, Crown Prince of Termina. I have missed you my son." This time the king's eyes gleamed happiness, although few others seemed glad to see their prince.

"And welcome…" his eyes turned to the assassin and his voice faltered. A tense moment passed through the chamber, as the council stared at the stranger in their midst. Judgment hissed and threatened in the air.

"Demon," came Garrett's explanation. "The Lord Demon. He is the princess's bodyguard."

If anything, his answer caused even more tension. Nobles whispered with each other and filled the air with the sound of rustling cloth.

"You see?" a new voice cried out. The man behind the king pushed himself to his feet. His silver robes shook with his conviction as he pointing a condemning finger at the two Destined. "Has the Maiden not warned us of this day? Have I not foreseen it?"

Zelda knew who the man was immediately, even before she dropped her eyes and saw the round circle of the full moon upon his chest. Only one person she knew of would dare to speak such words in the royal court or be given a seat so close in prestige to the throne itself. The look of hatred on Garret's face as she glanced over to him confirmed her suspicion.

"Peace, prophet," the king warned, but the Moonlord's fanaticism could not be quelled.

"You know what the Maiden has spoken!" Flecks of spit flew from his lips. "You know my prophecy! No man named Demon is welcome in Termina!"

A rumble of assent flowed through the crowd, drawing a surprised glance from both Garret and the king. Zelda looked warily into the slowly spinning audience, sensing a dangerous situation in the making.

"I do not know the prophecy," Garret challenged. "I would hear it before you accuse my friend and fellow Lord. Or even speak at all."

The Moonlord met Garret's scathing glance in kind. "You have not heard the prophecy because you are not a true follower of the Maiden. But this once I will excuse your ignorance. I was given this prophecy by my Goddess," he raised his voice dramatically, reminding the assassin of the announcers in the Aratian arenas. "Three days ago. The night, I believe, that this princess and her escort arrived in Termina." A quivering finger pointed at the assassin again.

"In shadow coalesces an omen

A princess from power shall fall

Weep O ye children of women

'Er orphans are made of you all

In shadow a demon is rising

By its shadow you will be undone

Flee from this darkness my people

Flee the war that cannot be won

In shadow the princess has trusted

In moonlight my people must stay

No hero remains uncorrupted

The shadow will lead you astray

This man, this Demon, this nightmare

All three names are one and the same

The infernos of war in his stare

Shall set our Termina to flame!"

A hush fell over the room as the Moonlord finished, and the eyes of the assembly returned to Demon. A few were only curious, although most betrayed an agonizing fear. Several of the nobles, their heads turning to track the assassin as their seats rotated around the chamber, showed open malice.

Demon was already beginning to believe that Zelda's quest had failed. After so many hardships, so many agonizing leagues and desperate battles, the end had finally come. Why was it, the assassin inwardly ranted, that he was so cursed? That his mere name could be the undoing of everything he had undergone to redeem himself. He turned his head to receive the despairing glare he knew the princess would be sending him, but found it missing. Instead she stared hard at the Moonlord and let her voice ring out in defiance.

"Is this the welcome you would show me Termina? I come to you in goodwill, trusting in the old alliances, and instead you insult both my bodyguard and myself. Is this truly the will of the king?" She switched her gaze to the monarch. "Or has this prophet spoken out of place?"

"The prophecy shows-" The Moonlord snarled, but Zelda cut him off.

"The prophecy shows nothing I do not already know. It claims a darkness is rising. I have come to warn you of it. It urges you to flee this darkness. I would give the same advice. It claims that the Lord Demon will embroil you in an unwinnable war," the blue in her eyes hardened to ice as she paused for breath. "I say war is upon you. It already gathers in the western passes, and soon it will spread across your lands."

Demon stared in wonder at the princess, her slim shoulders squared defiantly before the surrounding council. The determination in her elfin features bolstered his own, and he found that his despair suddenly gone. This was Zelda's territory, this war of words hers to win.

But the Moonlord was far from defeated. "And yet the prophecy mentions a princess as well. One fallen from power and allied with the shadow!" The last accusation rang triumphantly around the chamber, while returning hearts and minds to his cause.

"Would I ally with the power that ruined my country?" Zelda asked her audience, the real pain in her voice as effective a weapon as the Moonlord's theatrics. "And, if I had, would I flee from it across the mountains to its enemies, allowing it to murder my people and destroy Hyrule. I think not!"

The Moonlord's face was contorted with rage. He opened his mouth to retort, but the king had finally had enough.

"Silence prophet! Your words impugn my own honour and the honour of Termina. I will judge the worth of your prophecies later." The resentful murmur from the council proved Zelda had not been as persuasive as she'd hoped, but their sullen acquiescence was a victory in itself. "So it is true Zelda Harkinian, that Hyrule has fallen to Aratia?"

The princess' eyes were still blazing, but her voice held only the proper respect due to a fellow monarch. "It is true.

"How did it fall?"

"The Aratians have allied with an army of monsters. They overran my kingdom just before the long winter."

The royal scepter, an obsidian rod capped with a single crystal, tapped lightly against the side of the throne as the king considered his next question. "How is it that you escaped its destruction Princess Harkinian?"

There was no apology in his tone, no tactful hesitation as he asked why the Aratians had not killed her. Zelda noticed the insult and overlooked it. Her need was greater than her pride. "I was not in Castletown at the time of the invasion."

_ Why not?_ The unspoken question vibrated in the air, orbited by dozens of curious faces. The king did not ask it.

"There were rumours," he began, "that the Aratians had taken you hostage. But there have been many rumours this side of the mountains."

Zelda noticed a few council members stiffen, their expressions frozen. "That one, at least is true. For a time I was a prisoner in an Aratian dungeon." Her eyes flashed at the memory. "A short time."

Garret's father considered her words, and Zelda thought she saw the tiniest hint of a smile appear behind his beard; it disappeared before she could be sure. There were so many things she could not tell the council that she was having a hard time answering the king's questions. Still, she was disappointed, rather than relieved when his next words were addressed to Garret.

"I wish to hear your opinion," he began, placing a second hand upon the scepter in his lap. "Is the danger so great in the western mountains?"

Garret nodded. "An army of moblins has appeared in the high passes. Already there are enough to swarm Silva and the other forts, and I believe more are coming." Impatiently, he clenched his fists at his side. "The princess speaks truth."

"That will be decided later." The king of Termina eyed his impetuous son with frustration. "Have there been attacks?"

"Many of the farms and ranches in the foothills have been burned." Uneasy whispers swept the room. "The Cycle is turning, we must prepare for war!" His sword hilt grasped firmly in hand, Garret almost vibrated with intensity. He met his father stare for stare.

"No!" The Moonlord fumed as he rose from his seat once more. "This country will not follow the heathen blindly into shadow. The Cycle is a myth!"

"SILENCE!" The king of Termina rose heavily from his silver throne and roared the single word over the pandemonium caused by the Moonlord. Dark eyes flashed dangerously from beneath the royal crown, the power of the king's anger bringing order to the assembly. "You have shamed yourself prophet, go from my presence."

Growling, the fanatical Moonlord stalked past the companions to the hatchway and made his descent from the chamber. Zelda almost smiled, but the king's next words wiped any trace of victory from her mind.

"This audience is over Zelda Harkinian. By the laws of hospitality between royalty I must shelter and provide for you, but do not mistake my intentions. The council and I have much to discuss before we will meet again." The king lowered himself back to his throne and gripped it so tightly his knuckles whitened with effort. "Although my son may trust you princess, I, as of yet, do not. And I rule Termina."

Zelda heard Garrett's muffled curse, saw Demon's fury out of the corner of her eye, and consequently made sure her face and voice stayed blank. "I am grateful for your time King Telcontar. And for your hospitality." She curtseyed gracefully.

"Ah, one more thing," the king broke in as she turned to leave. "Vaine, please stand."

A face rose out of the circling movement of the outer ring, a face belonging to one of the few women in the room. Although on the opposite side of the room, Zelda could tell that Vaine was beautiful, unusually so, by the amount of attention she was receiving from the men of the council. The pale, auburn-haired woman was also smiling in a way that made the princess nervous, despite the distance.

"Zelda Harkinian, last Princess of Hyrule, I present to you Vaine Drakand."

The King paused.

"Aratian ambassador to Termina."

0000000000

Author's Notes: Well, this is a more complicated chapter, and I do hope you guys enjoyed it. I am especially worried about the court scene because it's my first time ever writing something on that scale, with that many prominent characters. I like it, but I'm not sure if it was believable.

By the way, what do you think of the Clocktower? I kind of like it as a setting for the throne-room, a sort of a fantastical hell of gears and machinery out of some surrealist painting. I was trying to make it unique, but as I don't conjure mental images all that well, I have to ask you guys if I pulled it off or not.

And thanks to Zephros for editing this. :-)

Celeborn00


	60. Chapter 60

Before we begin: The first couple sections of this chapter are a bit of an experiment. Please bear with me and give your feedback in a review. I will warn you that a made a comment about bells in my description of the Clocktower in Chapter 59 that is of some importance.

Otherwise...have fun reading!

Chapter 60

Ghosts moved slowly through the hall, their shadows scattering moonbeams on the dark tile. In their hands flickered candles, the flames dancing in the spent air of exhaled incantation, of whispered prayer. They were pale reflection and molten shadow. Ghosts of men. Priests of the Maiden.

A breeze, swirling down through the open roof, scattered to dance among the pillars. It muttered through the elaborate engravings with a voice that melded into the prayers of the priests. Circling, twisting, spiraling gusts threatened one candle and then another, but went unheeded by the somber procession threading their way through the hall. They knew only the dark night, the starlight, and their own devotion.

The palace dreamed on. The priests were gone and now servants flitted nervously from shadow to shadow, the brilliant colours of their houses leeched to gray in the darkness. A door opened somewhere and conversation spewed forth, only to be cut off as it quickly closed. The wind blew on, extinguishing a torch along the west wall, and the sodden patches of moonlight dulled under a passing cloud.

From the west door three figures entered, two following the direction of a third who led them quickly forward. One of them, a girl, seemed as pale as the moon itself, while her companion's form flowed and receded like the shadows in which he walked. In her was a vision of the ethereal, while he was night incarnate. White to black, black to white, an angel and a demon.

The three passed slowly through the looming pillars, using the silver pools like stepping-stones across the darkness. The girl paused only once, her gaze drawn slowly upwards, dreamlike, to the roof and the sky beyond. Through a gap she could see the stars, and the blackness and the infinite void, stretching to eternity around a moon that seemed so much larger than it did in Hyrule. Then she shivered and the wind swirled whispered prayers through the dark hall and somewhere, not quite in the eternities but close, a bell tolled three times.

000

The boy ran frantically down the corridor, his bare feet slapping against the marble as he dodged between chanting priests. Breath coming in ragged gasps, chest heaving with exertion, he was nothing but a flurry of white robes and movement. Moonlight, the only illumination allowed by the priest's nocturnal vigil, gleamed eerily off the shaven head that marked him as an acolyte. It also marked him for the many condemning glances cast his way, none of which the boy noticed as he bounced off walls and bodies to hurtle deeper into the temple.

"Teiresius!" he shouted, rounding a final corner and managing, just barely, to keep himself from deflecting into an ornate statue. "The bells!"

The man he was addressing did not seem to hear, or perhaps did not wish to. The ornamental mask that covered his entire face, which was never removed except in complete isolation, concealed his emotion as effectively as it did his identity. It was jet black, like the man's robes, and the pedestal on which he sat. Black to the Moonlord's white.

He was bathed in a column of moonlight, which flowed through a circular opening in the ceiling and down over his dark robes to reflect off the complicated lunar mosaic at his feet. The outermost edge of the pattern reached even to the feet of the boy, who stepped carefully between the silver lines as he approached. It might have been a hard task to avoid them in daylight, but threatened by the encroaching darkness, the orbitals and trajectories shone with a faint luminescence that marked them clearly in the stone floor. As if trapped in a maze, the boy gingerly picked his way through the spider-webbing lines towards the brooding figure at their center, his small body tense with excitement.

"Teiresius!"

This time the mask did move, bringing its empty sockets to bear on the diminutive figure. A stream of air hissed from between obsidian lips and the cloak shifted ever so slightly to force the cascading moonlight in new directions. It was an old voice, a tired voice that followed that rush of air, yet one that still had strength to it.

"Alexander, you should be sleeping."

"I was trying to, really, but I heard the bell!" The boy's voice shook, and he pointed towards the opening in the ceiling. "I heard it three times!"

"You'll be tired tomorrow. You'll wish you had slept instead of coming here."

"But you're the one who always told me to listen for it!" the boy protested. "What does it mean, Teiresius?

The figure sighed again, and the mask tilted slowly upwards until Alexander could see a pale throat between it and the black cloak. "Have you looked at the stars yet tonight, boy?" Teiresius didn't wait for him to shake his head before continuing. "Come here."

His breathing starting to recover, Alexander's eyes remained wide as he worked his way to the pedestal, following the man's gaze through the roof and to the stars. With his heart no longer pounding in his ears, the night seemed strangely quiet. So quiet he could hear Teiresius' rasping breath beneath the mask.

"Look there," the man pointed. "To the Archer. Do you see how he is aligned with the Serpent?"

Alexander shook his head in confusion, squinting through one eye in an attempt to make sense of the forbidding tapestry of stars. The older man pointed once again, this time at a single star. "Do you see Danes, Alexander? He is bright tonight. Draw a line from him to Lat, and then Murn. That is the Archer's belt."

"I see him!" The boy's voice was soft with wonder. "And there's the Serpent! Does this happen often Teiresius?"

"Once in a thousand years." Also soft, the prophet's words held more foreboding than wonder.

"Is it because of the bells?"

Teiresius smiled, although the boy could not see it. "You are impatient, that is something you must conquer."

The boy slumped, cowed for the moment. Then he jerked upright as another thought hit him. "The princess came tonight! Are the bells because of her?"

"Maybe. The bells mean that something important has happened. Maybe it is the stars. Maybe it is the princess. What do you think Alexander?"

The boy pondered for a moment. "Is it a good thing? Or a bad thing?"

The mask came softly down until it was level with the boy's face, until the boy caught a flash of the ice blue eyes hidden in its depths. "A good thing in a bad time. What happens when the Serpent and Archer are aligned?"

Alexander stared into the mask and saw his own reflection in the glossy midnight. "Something bad?" he whispered.

From back in the recesses of the temple a voice screamed "Teiresius!" with a shrill anger that rang out of place in the pale moonlight. The Moonlord had returned from the council, his temper as black as the night sky. Both boy and mask ignored his summons.

"War." The word drifted out between the mask's cold lips like a soldier's final gasp. "Now go to bed Alexander. Quickly."

The boy turned and ran back into the corridor, a startled hare in the shadows. This time there were no priests to impede his passage, but the fear inspired by the Moonlord's voice was worse than any of the priest's glares. Twice more it rang out, shouting the name of the masked prophet, before Alexander was too far away to hear it. He ran to his dormitory and threw himself into bed with a vigor that nearly bounced his young body into the wall. "War!" he whispered to the boys around him. "There's a war starting!"

But all of them were asleep.

000

A servant led his charges through several halls and somber corridors before depositing them wordlessly into the hands of a flustered noble, who, to Demon, seemed a little drunk. He bobbed and bowed like a flustered hen, while squawking foolish compliments and flapping his arms excitedly. At one point, he professed Zelda to be the most beautiful princess, living or dead, whom he had ever spoken with. At another, he called down a curse upon the man she would eventually marry, vowing that, "No man in the heavens or the nations is worthy of such virtue!" The princess herself wore a demure smile through the entire exchange, but Demon could see a hint of laughter growing in her blue eyes. It was good to see laughter there, even if the man causing it was an over-indulged, overweight idiot.

But it was the speech that the man launched into after the compliments that really tested Demon's mettle. Zelda had to nudge him once, twice, three times, as the assassin's attention wandered, and she caught him either staring at the ceiling or through a window into the inky blackness beyond. He had not realized that it was possible for a man to talk for so long and so stupidly about nothing. In the end, he resorted to counting the stone blocks in the wall behind the noble. He was almost finished when Zelda finally interrupted.

"It is hard for a princess to keep her head amidst such flattery," she chided dryly. "You must be a famous man among the ladies of the court!"

It was inconceivable for the noble to puff up any more, yet he tried. "Of course! Of course! Ask any of the ladies about the great Marquis Diego and I assure you only the finest of praises will flow from their lips! Though, I must say most women don't recognize the power of my silver tongue." He winked at the princess in a conciliatory manner, beginning to sway a little as if the solid marble floor was the deck of a rolling ship. "But I see you are both beautiful and witty. What a rare combination in a woman!"

He leaned forward, and Zelda leaned back, catching the reek of wine upon his breath. Demon fingered the hilt of a dagger and counted the number of ways he could kill the man before the noble had time to scream. He got to twelve in the second it took Zelda to retort.

"Too witty for you, my charming Marquis." The princess gave him one of her more devastating smiles, the one guaranteed to distract any man in the room. "But I am already looking forwards to our next conversation. If only you hadn't promised to meet Ambassador Vaine in her quarters tonight," she bluffed, "we could have talked longer. Goodbye Diego!"

Zelda grabbed Demon's arm and hustled him into the next corridor, leaving a dazed and blinking Diego behind them. Walking so quickly they were almost running, the two Destined rounded three more corners and ducked into a small alcove along the wall. There they waited, dreading the sound of pursuing footsteps that thankfully did not come.

"Oh Goddesses!" Zelda whispered, her head dropping into her hands. "I thought he would never stop talking!"

Demon couldn't see her face. It was completely hidden behind a mass of blonde hair, with just the tips of her fingers poking through it. "You encouraged him." The statement was not an accusation, but Zelda took it as one anyway.

"Did not!"

Demon's eyes narrowed. "You did. Admit it."

"Maybe," she admitted. "But it worked! If I hadn't 'encouraged him' that speech would never have ended! I saved us!"

"But now he'll be back."

Zelda slumped. "Yes, he will."

They sat in silence, pondering the Marquis Diego and his bloated presence. A single lamp burned desolately in a holder above their heads, shining through the flawed glass to cast warped shadows across the alcove

Suddenly, Zelda began to shake with silent laughter, drawing the assassin's attention. "Oh Marquis Diego!" she whispered, "What will happen when you reach Vaine's quarters, I wonder?"

"Sometimes you are cruel, princess." Demon's words were stern, but Zelda could hear the amusement behind them. "Will he go, do you think?"

"I hope so. I hope he gives her the same speech he gave me. It would be my only victory of the day."

A rare twinkle appeared in the assassin's eye. "What if it she succumbs?"

"To that peacock?" The blonde curls shook again and Zelda laughed. "You must be joking, Demon!" She lowered her voice into an exaggerated imitation of Diego. "Smart _and _beautiful! What a surprise!"

"A curse upon your future husband!" Demon contributed, his usually gruff voice vibrating with amusement.

"You are, without question, the most beautiful of any dead princess I've ever seen!" Zelda finished.

They both laughed, the assassin's shoulders shaking as hard as Zelda's. The sound of their laughter rang off the stone walls and into the hallway, where, luckily, there was no one to hear it.

"We should find one of the servants and get directions to the kitchens," Zelda admitted reluctantly when they had finished. "We can't just disappear in the king's own palace."

As if on cue, they heard two voices farther up the corridor. Zelda whipped her head out of her lap and hastily ran fingers through her hair, arranging her face into a more regal expression. Then she and Demon lined up shoulder to shoulder and stepped out of the alcove.

Two Terminan servants were coming down the hallway towards them, dressed in the same yellow and dun tunics as the man who had led the companions from the tower. Their feet moved with a synchronized speed that only increased when they saw Zelda, a speed that was mirrored by the worry on their faces. Both were tall, dark-skinned and dark-haired, and both, Zelda noticed, wore short-swords strapped to their waists.

"Lady," One called, "Are you the princess Zelda of Hyrule?"

"I am." Zelda was transformed. Her back was straight, her chin was up, and her slim arms were placed rigidly at her sides. She was a princess, by right, by rank, by blood, and at that moment no one could have mistaken her for anything else. Her blue eyes were as hard as the sapphire earrings she wore.

The servants almost sighed with relief as they stopped in front her. The one on the left, who had spoken, saluted hard, his eyes drifting to Demon for a second before snapping back to the princess. "My pardon princess, but where have you been? We were told that you had been taken to the dining areas, yet we find you only this far, barely out of the East Quarter!"

"Who told you?" Demon broke in. He also had noticed the short swords, and already had a hilt in his palm behind the cover of his sleeve. Really, he was amazed at the lax attitude the Terminian royals had shown towards weapons within their own palace. The assassin had not even been searched before being escorted to the king, and here were two armed servants wandering the halls. He shifted a step closer to give himself an advantage on the one closest to Zelda, just in case.

The servants backed up the same amount, defensively setting their own hands to hilts. The second man spoke. "Prince Garret sent us. He wanted to provide his own escort in case the other proved unreliable." Both men glanced at each other and then raised their hands palms outward. "We have heard of you Demon. We do not wish to fight."

Zelda stepped forward herself, taking on her well-worn role of peacemaker. "We are thankful to Garret and yourselves for anticipating this…unreliability. The man I presume was assigned to guide us was not what I was expecting."

"It was Diego, wasn't it." The first man sighed. "On behalf of Termina, I apologize."

"So he _is_ famous." Zelda somehow kept her face impassive. Beside her, Demon coughed.

"The man," the servant leaned closer, glancing around, "is the biggest fool in the country. Unfortunately, he is also on of the richest."

Shocked at his familiar manner, Zelda studied the servant with renewed caution, and noticed that the hem of his tunic only came to his ankles, while the other man's shoulder's barely fit into his uniform. She narrowed her eyes. "You talk too much for a servant."

He grinned. "And you are perceptive for a princess."

His companion elbowed him. "Watch yourself captain, that isn't how you address royalty!"

"From the army then." Both men's eyes widened as they realized their mistake, and Zelda let herself feel a small surge of pride. "Please, grace me with your names and ranks, soldiers."

"Leon, captain." The loud one stepped forward first and gave a passable bow.

"Russ, centurion." The other man's bow was deep and graceful. "We are Garret's bodyguard while he's in the Hidden City, but since he's busy with the Council, he decided you would need us more. At least until the Valkyrie's arrive."

Zelda raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe I know that word. What are Valkries?"

"_Val-ka-ries_." Leon stressed, than grunted as Russ gave him another shot in the ribs. "A group of noblewoman who are training themselves to be warriors." The centurion took over the explanation. "They were out practicing tactics on the plains today, but they should be back shortly to take over guard duty of your person."

Exchanging looks, Zelda and Demon both remembered Garret's promise to get the princess a female bodyguard. Neither of them felt too happy about the arrangement, even though both knew it was necessary. Zelda especially was nervous about having to operate under the scrutiny of a company of noblewomen.

"I look forward to their arrival," she said, despite herself.

"In the meantime, we're supposed to get you both some food. Garret had us prepare a little surprise for you." Both Russ and Leon smiled winningly. "Please, follow."

Russ walked in front, while Leon fell back to shadow them. The two soldiers quickly adopted a pace that, while much slower than the one they had been keeping, forced the princess to work hard to keep up. Trying to match the swish of her skirts to their clicking heels proved surprisingly tough, and the princess was forced to reduce her answer to their questions to a mere "yes" or "no". Leon and Russ, paradoxically, seemed to talk more the faster they walked.

"You see the Hidden Palace is divided into four quarters," Russ continued as they retraced the princess's steps. "The East Quarter, where you came from, holds the Clocktower, formal palace, and weapons fields. The South Quarter, where we are going, is just a small area beyond the gardens. That's where all the kitchens are, and the servant's quarters."

He turned a corner, and they emerged from an archway into the open night. A stepping stone path, ran before them through a green lawn bordered by the hulking shadows of buildings. No one except Zelda seemed to notice the infinity of stars that spread so close and so clear above their heads. They filled the darkness with a peaceful glory that tempted her to forget to listen to her guides. Only the threat of running into one of the many pillars, scattered across the lawn, kept her from doing so.

Leon continued where Russ left off. "We'll be passing through a bit of the West Quarter, or Garden Quarter as we usually call it. It's considered the most beautiful spot in all of Clocktown." He paused, before daring a few more words. "The most romantic, too."

"Leon!" The centurion warned from the front.

"Understood. Then there's the North Quarter. That's where the King and the nobility are housed—and the princesses." He laughed. "The Valkyrie's will guide you there later."

The stepping-stones wandered into a latticework tunnel, overrun by curling vines which enclosed the group on three sides. The flecks of moonlight that danced between the creepers glowed like quartz pebbles upon the ground and the companions. Some even revealed the brilliant violet of flowers hidden within the general shadow. The blooms were strange, unlike any the two Destined had seen before, and they filled the living tunnel with the fresh scent of spring. It was, Zelda decided, the smell of life.

"Here we are princess!" said Russ, making an abrupt turn through a narrow gap in the vines. Hidden as it was, the space would have been impossible to find in the dark unless the searcher already knew it was there. "A torch-lit dinner in the garden! Garret hoped you would approve."

He led them down a narrow hedge-lined passage that quickly opened into a grove of willow trees. Feathery branches brushed shoulders and faces as the others followed him to a pavilion surrounded by lit torches at the center of the grove. It was built of untreated wood in a flowing style akin to that used in the Kokiri village, nestled under the spreading arc of one the larger willows. It was also completely and blessedly isolated from the political turmoil that had dominated Zelda's day. The princess silently thanked Garret for his thoughtfulness, before gratefully lowering herself into a comfortable chair. Across from her, Demon did the same and both looked eagerly at the full table between them.

Leon and Russ exchanged glances and began to back away. "We will be guarding the entrances. Please call if you require anything," Russ said before turning.

"Like more wine!" The last comment had obviously been from Leon, who dodged into the trees before his companion could throw another elbow.

Zelda waited until the soldiers were gone before picking up her goblet. "That man reminds me of Garret." Taking a sip, she shivered a little as the liquid hit her throat.

"Here princess," Demon was out of his chair at once. He grabbed a bundle from one of the wooden benches that circled their table. Heshook it out into a cloak. "It's a cool night and you are tired."

"It was the wine, assassin, but I am grateful anyway." She wrapped the cloak snugly around her shoulders. "It has been a difficult day for us."

Demon sat back down with a thump. "Agreed. These politics sicken me."

There was a bitterness in his voice that Zelda sympathized with. "Me as well."

He looked at her, puzzled. "And yet you have such skill! Few in the council will forget how you forced the Moonlord from his chair."

Zelda laughed. "That does not mean I enjoy it, Demon!"

"No, but it gives you power." He raised his gauntleted hands in mock submission. "I feel useless."

"You are trained to fight one battle. I am trained for another. Neither of us is useless."

Demon started at her curiously. "You seem…happy princess. Happier than I thought you would be after that audience."

"I am." Tucking a stray blond curl carefully back into place, the princess laughed again. "I know I shouldn't be. But after all the politics and frustrations of today, I am just happy to have survived."

"That is good," the assassin said quietly.

Zelda paused, waiting in vain for him to continue. She was surprised at how much he was talking, even the things he was saying. It was as if the new title and new clothes had transformed him inside as well as out, despite the voice in her head that cautioned her not to grow too used to the changes. Unfortunately, it was hard not to like this new Demon, despite how unpredictable she knew the assassin to be.

Smiling, she turned to the obvious. "May we eat? I'm starving!"

"So am I," he admitted, examining the spread hungrily. "Though, I don't know what this is."

"Food perhaps?" Zelda's eyes laughed as she reached for a loaf of bread.

His eyes narrowing, Demon pulled off his gauntlets with an annoyed tug. "Very funny princess. Diego was right, you're beautiful _and_ witty. ."

Zelda, who had been taking another sip of wine, nearly choked. "Did you doubt it assassin?" Her voice was dangerous, but her eyes gave her away.

"Only once."

"When?"

"I've already told you."

The princess thought about it for a second as she buttered her bread, her nose wrinkling in concentration. Then she remembered. "But I've told you, too! I had to encourage Diego, or we would never have gotten rid of him! It was the only way!"

Demon grabbed his own piece of bread, eyebrows rising. "That makes little sense to me, princess."

"Well it should."

"It doesn't."

Zelda sighed. "Maybe that's because you're not a woman."

"Thank the Goddesses," Demon snorted, and was immediately forced to duck as the remaining portion of Zelda's bread came hurtling towards him. He whipped back upright and grabbed his own bread to retaliate, only to see the princess calmly lift her goblet to her lips as if nothing had happened.

"You realize, of course," her eyes sparkled, "that any attack upon the royal body, even with food, is punishable by death?"

The assassin shrugged. "So be it!" His arm flicked and Zelda gasped and covered her face, only to hear the bread drop softly back onto Demon's plate. The grin that awaited her when she opened her eyes was slightly insane, but she laughed anyways.

"If you keep making jokes you're going to ruin your reputation." She chided.

"If you keep throwing food you'll ruin yours." The words rolled easily off Demon's tongue as he picked up a ladle and looked tentatively around the table. "Please princess, just tell me what I'm about to eat."

Zelda leaned forward to look into a couple of the dishes in the middle of the table. "That maybe hard, _I_ don't even recognize some of these." Her eyes stopped on one, an elaborately decorated bowl filled with pieces of meat and vegetable mixed in a dark coagulated sauce. "This one," she pointed to it, "try this one first."

The ladle tapped against the table. "Are you sure? What is it?"

"I don't know the name, but I remember eating it on my last visit. Try it! It's good!"

The ladle kept tapping. "What is it?"

"Try it!"

Suspiciously, Demon dipped his ladle into the bowl and set a portion of its contents on his plate. With the knife in his other hand, he stabbed a piece of meat and held it up for inspection. "Princess…" he asked again, his mouth set in a thin line.

"Wolfos." The word made Demon start as Zelda said it.

"Wolfos," Demon repeated, gesturing to the meat. Zelda nodded. "Princess, I kill wolves, I don't eat them!"

Thinking back to his horrific battle in the Great Forest, Zelda winced. "I know. I remember."

She looked at him. He looked at her. Then he stuck the piece in his mouth. Chewing slowly, face unreadable, the assassin choked down the first wolf meat he had ever tasted.

Across the table, Zelda was helping herself to several dishes, including the one she had recommended to Demon. She frowned in concentration as she tried to avoid dripping the various sauces on herself or the table, or upsetting the goblet beside her plate. Somewhere outside the circle of torches an owl hooted and the willows whispered in the wind.

After a while, Demon laid down his knife and shifted self-consciously. "I thought we had failed," he began, "when the Moonlord gave his prophecy."

"So did I." Zelda admitted as she wiped her hands on a napkin.

Demon looked at her, puzzled. "But-"

"I couldn't just give up! I won't let Hyrule rot in the hands of Gabriel."

"But with the Moonlord poisoning the court against us…we have no chance."

Zelda sighed. "We do, or did. Vaine's presence complicates things. If she makes the right offer to the council then my plea will never be heard."

"Let me kill her." The callous offer made Zelda shiver, even though she had already entertained the possibility herself.

"No. We represent Hyrule, and Hyrule does not allow the assassination of foreign ambassadors. Besides, Vaine may be completely innocent. She might not even agree with her country's actions."

Picking up his knife, Demon stabbed a piece of wolfos. "It would simplify things. She is Aratian. She might be planning to assassinate you."

"We are not like them Demon. You're not like them. And we won't become like them."

"So you tell me." The assassin responded slowly. "What makes you so sure I'm not like them? Just some common mur-"

"Noble." Zelda broke in. "You're a Lord now, remember?"

"In name alone."

"And you are the Hero of Time. _Not _some common murderer."

Baffled by the princess's logic, Demon decided not to argue. "Is that what you will tell the Terminians?" he asked.

Zelda's earrings swung wildly as she shook her head. "The Moonlord would take it as an attack upon the Maiden and proclaim it as such. We must not reveal our Destiny until we have to." She looked from the white glove on her left hand to the faint golden triangle on the back of Demon's. "Though, I warn you that the time is coming."

Self-conciously, Demon pulled his own gloves, purchased the day before, from his pocket and slipped them on. They were black, like his gauntlets, but less constricting. Silver thread outlined a howling wolf over the place where his Triforce symbol would have shone.

Abruptly their solitude was broken as Leon gave a rousing hail from what was, presumably, one of the entrances. He appeared a few moments later jogging towards the firelight with numerous other figures at his heels. The company pulled to a stop within the circle of torches and bowed as one, the flames reflecting off an assortment of armor and weapons as varied as it was garish. The Valkyries had arrived.

"Princess," Leon added another salute. "I present to you…the ferocious, the deadly, the beautiful-"

"Stop talking, Leon!" A statuesque blonde stepped forward, placing a hand jauntily on her hip. "Before I make you."

Leon grinned weakly and edged in the opposite direction. "I trust you had a good meal princess, and I do hope we shall meet again. But for now, Russ and I will be reporting back to Garret. I hope you understand."

Fighting to control her own grin, Zelda waved solemnly. "I do indeed soldier. Please inform Prince Garret I enjoyed the Garden Quarter very much." She watched Leon make good on his escape, then turned back to inspect her new bodyguards.

The blonde, as the best equipped and the most confident, was clearly the leader. The leather armor she wore was scandalously tight in the princess's opinion, especially for a woman of such significant curves. In her belt were sheathed a long sword, a short sword, and several knives. On her back was a strapped a shorter version of one of Termina's famous bows. She was not pretty, but nor was she ugly, despite the jarring scar, which ran lengthwise down the right side of her face.

"Princess Zelda Harkinian," the woman proclaimed, matching Zelda stare for stare, "I am Selena, captain of the Valkyries, Termina's famous all-female fighting force! We are here to protect you."

"Why thank you." Zelda's reply was a few moments late and rather weak, but Selena did not seem to notice.

"We were just instructed by Prince Garret," several smiles, some benign, other downright suggestive appeared on faces behind Selena's back, "to show you to your palace residence. Are you ready to accompany us?"

"Of course." Stepping lightly from her chair, the princess glided out of the pavilion and into the middle of the mass of women. Demon moved to accompany her, but was blocked by Selena, who gave him a glare almost as imposing as his own.

"We are the princess' guard now!" she snapped. "And we won't be needing your help. As Garret says, this is a woman's job!" Turning her back on the assassin, she snapped an order to the company, and they began to move, hustling Zelda along in their midst. Demon let out a growl that was blanketed by the jangling of their weapons, but he knew full well that the captain spoke truth. He and the princess had agreed upon this, and he would not betray his word now.

Zelda managed to cast him a single apologetic glance before she was swept away into the darkness. Her eyes strained to comfort the assassin even though both of them instantly recognized that something fundamental was changing. They had travelled together, existed together, since they had left the Great Forest, but that connection had just been severed. The Valkyries protected Zelda now.

Demon watched the last of the women disappear between the willows and grimaced with an emotion that was half-annoyance, half-pain. He walked slowly back to the pavilion and helped himself to another plateful of the wolfos stew, washing down the spicy meat with the dregs of his wine. After a muttered apology to the absent princess, he drained her goblet as well and looked around for more. Though, he knew he wouldn't find it, the assassin searched the pavilion for the rest of the bottle. As Leon had hinted, it wasn't there.

"Goddesses!" he cursed, the word accompanied by the sound of shattering glass. Confused, Demon glanced down to his feet and realized he had dropped his goblet; the shards glittered like diamond in the firelight. A glistening residue bled slowly down the curve of the biggest piece to sink amidst the ruin. It could have been a tear, or a rain-drop, staining earth the colour of wine. The exact nature did not matter to the assassin, who, in sweeping his gaze across the pavilion, had come to an uncomfortable realization.

He had forgotten something, or ignored it. A line was being crossed that he'd sworn would not be violated. He had sat at the table before him and talked to the princess not as Demon, but as someone else, a person who had not existed in years. And, what was worse, he had begun to see the princess he was talking to not as the shadow of another, but as the Zelda herself. It felt like a betrayal to Demon, which it was. Or maybe it wasn't. He couldn't decide.

The torches were beginning to falter, the circle of light they produced gradually diminishing as the darkness of the grove advanced. Demon waited in the pavilion until the first one died entirely, before stepping out of their protective ring and disappearing among the willows. The night was more familiar to him than torchlight, and it held a comfort he yearned for as he anticipated the thoughts ahead. It kept his mind clear until he wanted to think, a moment which came only once he was leaning against the trunk of a willow in the darkest corner of the grove. Only then, did he allow himself to ask the question that haunted him.

How much longer could he refuse to forget? Link had loved Zelda, loved her with everything he had and more. His love had kept him from refusing her when she begged him to return to his own time, kept him from hating her when he realized the colossal mistake her good intentions had become. His love had been both his salvation and his undoing, guiding him first to victory at Zelda's side, and then, once she was no more, preventing him from ever forgetting. Demon had tried to live in her shadow, but why? She was dead, and he had been forced to go on living. Whatever he had seen in the flames outside Kakoriko, it proved nothing except that she was beyond his reach.

The rough bark scraped his back as the assassin let himself slide wearily to the ground, refusing to consider the damage he was doing to his coat. Around him, the night air hung heavy and still like an insubstantial pall over the tranquil gardens, laced with the scent of earth and distant blossoms. The assassin tasted it, bittersweet upon his tongue, and tried to remember his inviolate purpose, reflected in the many oaths he had sworn to himself and others. He couldn't.

"Look what I've become," he whispered, resigned. "Look what you've made me. Is this what you wanted?" The lie in his words was obvious. She hadn't known the future any better than he, and she would have been the first to beg his forgiveness had she seen him now. Indeed, it was hard to argue that his suffering was even her fault. Zelda had not made Link into Demon, it was his choice and his alone.

For that was the Hero's greatest sin. He had taken the darkness he was meant to fight and made it part of himself, creating what he knew was an abomination. It was the reason he instinctively avoided thinking of the princess in the same terms as her predecessor, even though she was the same soul in a different life. It would be too easy to love her the way he had loved…the one before.

_And darkness cannot love light, _the voices, so quiet previously, stirred in his head_, remember what you are Demon!_

_000_

When Vaine finally slammed the door, her face was as livid as the traditional Terminian masks that lined the walls of her quarters. Turning quickly she grabbed the nearest one from it's mounting and hurled it across the room, watching it smash into the sandstone hearth with righteous satisfaction. "That witch!" She snarled. "Sending him here!"

Her two maids immediately rushed forward and began sweeping up the mask-shards, their crimson dresses swishing wildly in their haste to avoid Vaine's ire. For now, their mistress ignored them, but both knew that could change at any moment. They flinched as a second mask whizzed by to explode against the wall, showering them with plaster and ceramic.

"That witch!" Vaine repeated in a near-shriek. She glanced up at a third mask, but immediately thought better of it. Instead, the ambassador closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Her artificially red lips were pressed into a thin line that perfectly represented the thread by which her temper hung.

"I am going to my chamber." Her voice was soft, but furious. "On no condition is either of you to bother me." Tossing her head contemptuously, she waved a gloved hand in the direction of the door. "And if that…pig, that Marquis Diego returns, have the captain kill him."

"M'Lady?" One of the maids ventured.

"Just do it! And hide the body. We'll tell the Terminians it was the work of Zelda's pet assassin."

Both maids nodded dumbly as Vaine swept out of the room. Despite their misgivings they knew that disobedience was not an option. When the party had arrived from Termina nearly thirty days before there had been four maids assigned to the ambassador's private retinue, now only the two of them remained. Consequently, if Diego was unfortunate enough to return, he was a dead man.

Vaine, as she slammed the door to her personal chamber, was having no such private misgivings. Her only regret was the delay in negotiation Diego's death might pose. The disappearance of a Marquis would require an official investigation, a state funeral, even mourning clothes. The ambassador frowned. She hated wearing black.

A stubborn precision dominated the room, represented in everything from the immaculate table to the Aratian pendants hung in rows upon the walls. Official papers and documents were stacked in neat rows upon a desk in the corner, shadowed by an ornate suit of armor that had been a gift from the ambassador's second husband. He had lasted longer than the third, but not as long as the first, whose axe occupied a stand near the fire. Vaine frowned as her gaze swept over the grate, and she noticed a storm of green sparks mixing with the red flames. She was being summoned, even though it was earlier than they had agreed upon. Why?

Her anger subsiding into confusion, the ambassador strode across the room to her desk and removed a canvas bag from the bottom drawer. It was tied with a simple drawstring, and Vaine's fingers undid the knot with practiced ease, unleashing the strong, fresh scent of the wood-chips within. She wrinkled her nose as always, perplexed by the strange nature of the Aratian King's magic. She had never met a mage who required the burning of wood as part of his ritual, despite her own extensive training in the magical arts. Unfortunately for her curiosity, Vaine also knew that it was a quirk which would never be voluntarily explained by the mysterious enigma that ruled Aratia. He was a man who gave orders, not information.

And orders where what Vaine needed after the embarrassing debacle in the Council Chamber.

She took a handful of the chips from the bag and tossed them into the fire, jerking back as the flames exploded in an emerald conflagration and then vanished entirely. In their place among the ashes, a twisting, mutating magic swirled into existence, forming a glistening surface that at first reflected Vaine's image. At first, for immediately her reflection stretched into the likeness of another, and the ambassador let her own face betray a respectful nervousness that was all too real. For the man staring back at her was death: crimson eyes in a corpse-white face. The King of Aratia.

"My king," she breathed, lowering her head in deference. It was all the ambassador could do not to gag in disgust at the image of her monarch, who seemed to grow more hideous with each passing season.

"Vaine," the face smiled knowingly, as if guessing her thoughts. "Are you disturbed by my appearance ambassador?"

"Of course not, my king." She scrambled for the impersonal mask, which made her such a formidable politician.

"Of course not." The mocking smile never wavered. "You Vaine, are as beautiful as always."

The ambassador couldn't keep her eyes from widening as she inwardly cursed the clinging, low-cut dress she wore. Although her loyalty to the Aratian throne was unquestionable, the king was the last man on the continent she wanted romantic attention from. If that was indeed what he was hinting at. She could never tell.

"My king, the princess arrived today from Silva."

"Did her audience go as we anticipated?"

Vaine swallowed quickly. "No, she has been granted royal protection, and the Terminian king has agreed to listen to her case."

"What!" The snarl that issued forth from the man's lips was feral, and his eyes blazed crimson rage towards the ambassador. "You promised me she would be thrown out on her face! You said you controlled that Council!"

Grabbing her skirts with both hands, Vaine was suddenly grateful that she faced only the illusion of the king, instead of his actual person. "I do my king! But she has already besotted the prince, and his support was enough to gain his father's ear!"

"Despite the Moonlord's prophecies? He defied both the prophet and the Council?"

"Yes," Vaine hissed. "The little witch is clever. She used the moblin threat on his border to suggest he is at war. Apparently the beasts are raiding the eastern provinces."

The king growled again. "I ordered them to stay in the mountains until my command!" He paused, calculating eyes staring past Vaine into her room. "It is essential that Termina does not go to war, You must prevent the princess from rallying the army to her cause."

"If I could kill her it would be simpler."

"No!" Vaine was surprised by the fear in his response, even though his gaze was still distant and he seemed to have forgotten her presence. "Circumstances have changed. We need her alive for the ceremony."

"Ceremony my king?"

The man shook his head, refocusing on the woman before him, but ignoring her question. "Our army has been mobilized for too long, the nobles are getting restless. I need to return to Aratia, and I cannot do so under threat of a Terminian invasion!"

"But what of…the other army?" Vaine was still not sure what she thought of the legions of monsters the king controlled, but she did appreciate the fear such power inspired in others. She had seen the ranks of moblins and stalfos marching to his command, more arriving every day and knew inherently that the man who could field such a terrifying force would be nigh invincible. It was why her loyalty to the king had remained unshakeable, even when some of the other nobles had whispered of evil and dark magic.

"Soon," he replied, "soon it will be strong enough to burn Termina to the ground. But not right now." Punctuating each word carefully, the king grinned with delight at the idea. "Promise them anything they want, it will not matter, but don't let them go to war."

Vaine nodded, her devious mind already planning. Then she frowned as another question struck her.

"My king?"

"Yes ambassador?"

"The man who came with the princess, the Lord Demon. Is he one of ours?"

The Aratian king shook his head. "No, he is just another wretch the princess has infatuated." He sneered. "She's quite the whore."

Confused, Vaine furrowed her brow. "Are you sure my king? He reeks of power, it radiates from him."

"Do not question me ambassador, I have told you of him before. He is a murderer, an assassin, and a former gladiator. I take it you do not frequent the arena?"

"No." The spectacle of the death matches had always repelled Vaine, though her own hands were not strangers to bloodshed.

"Perhaps you have heard of him anyway. His name is no coincidence, he _is _the Butcher. I too met him once, but instead of power found only madness. You are mistaken."

But Vaine was not listening. "The Butcher!" She exclaimed triumphantly. "Zelda is ruined! His name is black in Termina; he killed many of its sons in the arenas!"

The King of Aratia grinned, his eyes flickering evilly. "Than your task is easy ambassador, especially since the Demon is often mentioned in the Maiden's prophecies." His harsh laugh filled the room. "May she forever put stars in the sky…"

"And dreams in our slumberings." Vaine smiled maliciously, pulling blood-red lips over pearly teeth. "I live to serve, my king."

00000000

Author's Note:

I can't believe how long this chapter is. On Microsoft Word it's a full nineteen pages, and since it takes me about an hour and a half to write a page (counting editing), this chapter is quite the investment. Credit for this posting goes to my elbow, which is injured, which is the reason I've had ample time to write. If you can't move your elbow you can't work, which means you don't get paid, but you do get to laze around at home watching World Cup football and eating ice cream. Oh yeah, and write a bit...almost forgot.

If only I got paid for this. :-)

Anyway, I know some of you are going to complain that Demon suddenly went soft, and I admit this chapter is somewhat of a change for his character. Just remember not to worry too much, because both he and Zelda note that this is unusual for him and probably won't happen again for a while. He's a tortured soul, why not a little divided as well? I must admit I laughed when he found out he was eating wolfos. I imagine it tasting somewhat like bear. Originally it was going to be a moblin stew, but then I decided that the Terminian's aren't barbarians, and seriously, who would want to eat a Moblin?

I hate Diego already, which probably means he'll keep showing up. I was really hoping Vaine would kill him when she had the chance, but, unfortunately, she's too smart for that. What i'm really curious about is what happened to her three husbands. Anybody got any good ideas? If you send me something particularly interesting it may show up in a later chapter. :-)

Thanks once again to Zephros for his editing, and to those of you who gave me info about Termina. I hoped you noticed the mask references. Rest assured that they play a more prominent role in future chapters.

Until next time,

Celeborn00

P.S. The gloves were a nod to you Wolfess :-).


	61. Chapter 61

Chapter 61

"So after you chased the horde of Stalfos into the cave-," Zelda stared at the three women lounging arrogantly upon the leather divan and tried to look properly impressed. "You celebrated by drinking a skin of Gerudo mead?"

"Each." Keane, the smallest of the three, spoke up quickly. "We drank a skin _each_." Zelda felt her eyebrows rise. Gerudo mead, as Impa had once told her, was famous in Hyrule for three things: its exotic taste, its vibrant colour, and its tendency to start wars. A mere glass could drive a man to madness, and drinking an entire skin at once…

Zelda didn't even want to think about it.

Golden sunlight streamed through the crystal-paned windows, the morning rays glancing cheerily off the furs and rugs that decorated the princess's antechamber. The pieces of furniture lining the room were filled with Valkyries, most either munching on the dried fruit and flaky bread of a Terminian breakfast or playing a complicated dice game that Zelda meant to quickly learn. So far the princess was enjoying her bodyguards' company immensely, even if they were a bunch of the strangest noblewomen she had ever met. The Valkyries, especially Selena, seemed determined to redefine the definition of "lady" from the ground up, and make it include a lot of things that generally weren't associated with nobility. Besides fighting, the women were learning the finer points of gambling, cross-dressing, heavy drinking, and wrestling, all pursuits that had previously been restricted to noblemen. They were also, Zelda mused as she listened to Keane elaborate on her adventures, picking up a knack for storytelling.

The night had passed without excitement. The guards had led Zelda back to her quarters, which, she had been pleased to discover, where almost as large and luxuriant as her own rooms in Hyrule Castle. After finding her much-abused pack hidden in a closet, she had taken a bath and changed into a shift, then made each of her new body-guards settle down in the anteroom and tell her their names and their stories. It had taken till midnight, for the company was twenty-strong and though only Selena was from beyond the walls of Clocktown, each woman had been eager to tell the foreign princess something about herself. Afterwards they had begun asking Zelda questions about her own life, and she'd told them all she could. It wasn't as much as she would have liked to share, but it still made for an impressive story.

At first the women had laughingly teased her as the princess elaborated on her idyllic, sheltered life as Hyrule's monarch, but their jibes had quickly turned to admiration when Zelda switched to describing the battle to save Omar's caravan. Later on the princess would admit to herself that she'd changed the tale slightly, but after hearing some of the Valkyries exaggerate their own exploits, she didn't feel guilty. What did it matter that in her version she, and not Demon, led the charge? Or that, in reality, she hadn't slain a single moblin during the entire battle? Details like those were not the ingredients for good stories.

Zelda smiled at the justification and leaned back contentedly in her chair. After the reception she had been given by the Council, she had assumed that the rest of the nobles would be just as hostile, especially when justified by the Moonlord's prophecies. It was an assumption that her guards were forcing her to reconsider. Although Selena admitted all the nobility followed the Council officially, she and her company despised it with a passion that was only surpassed by their hatred of its high priest. Apparently the MoonLord was not as dominant as Zelda had feared, and Selena even named some nobles who still spoke of the Goddesses, although only in the privacy of their quarters.

A servant from one of the men Selena named had already delivered a note which invited Zelda to attend a mid-day meal with him. He was almost too minor a noble to be requesting a visit from a foreign ruler, but the princess was resolved to accept his offer anyway. She needed allies, and her position was desperate enough that she couldn't afford to turn him away. If the Moonlord himself showed up at her door Zelda would have welcomed him gladly, for that was the way of politics.

Dice cups rattled from across the room, foreboding either the gasp of victory or hiss of defeat. Rupees changed hands continually, although the exchange was so even that Zelda doubted a winner would ever emerge. There were too many dice in the game, too many opportunities for the luck to change, and consequentially, the odds were hard to beat. The dice, like fate, could not be denied.

A knock sounded on the door.

Instantly the three nearest women jumped to their feet and glanced questioningly to Zelda, who gave them a discreet nod. The princess had to smile as they unsheathed their weapons and approached the door with exaggerated caution, as if it were a cornered moblin. Two of the women covered the third as she whipped open the barrier and shoved her sword into the face of the startled boy behind it. Crossing his eyes, the child squeaked as he tried to focus on the blade.

"Stand down Valkyrie." The princess's order, mild as it was, caused all three women to blush. They sheathed their weapons and ushered the boy across the room.

Zelda studied him. He was old enough for his face to have lost the plumpness of childhood, yet still retain its innocence. Soft grey eyes stared at her from below a shaved head, filled with a trepidation that brought instant sympathy to the princess's heart. This sentiment was immediately tempered by the waning crescent upon his robes that marked him as an adherent of the Maiden.

"I bring-" his voice squeaked again, and the boy turned a few shades paler. Pulling out a roll of parchment from inside his robe, he began to read. "I bring a message from the Lord of the Moon, Consort of the Maiden, Ar…Arbat…Arbater of the Stars."

"Arbiter?" Zelda suggested, eliciting a grateful, if tentative smile. "Arbiter" the boy agreed. "Arbiter of the Stars."

His gaze fell back to the parchment. "The Moonlord is anxious to welcome to Termina Zelda Harkinian, Princess of Hyrule." Zelda's eyebrows rose. "He is grieved over the misunderstandings caused by his prophecy and the ant…antag…"

From behind him, Selena sighed heavily. "Let me see it boy," the captain grumbled as she leaned in to peer over his shoulder. "It's…" A long moment passed, and then she frowned and leaned in still closer. Her lips moved around invisible syllables and a muffled snicker rose out from the Valkyries massed behind her.

Selena whirled. "Alright you hussies!" The room attained a level of silence normally reserved for funerals. "Which one of you laughed?"

No one moved, each member of Zelda's bodyguard struggling to avoid eye contact with their captain. For an interminable moment the stand-off continued, until Keane reluctantly shuffled forward.

"Antagonism?" She offered, wilting a little under Selena's glare.

The other woman's dark eyes stayed hard, but her scar twitched, giving her away. "You're the brains to my beauty, Keane. Why don't you read this pack of lies?" A sigh of relief swept through the room.

Keane smiled. "Lies are my specialty captain!"

Zelda had to work hard to suppress a giggle, remembering the Valkyrie's wild tales about spirits and stalfos. For once, Keane wasn't exaggerating.

The messenger watched blankly as the woman yanked the parchment from his hands and began to read. "He is grieved over the misunderstandings caused by his prophecy, and the antagonism which has arisen between himself and the princess. To amend these divisions, he humbly requests an immediate audience in the Temple of the Maiden. May she forever put stars in the sky and dreams in our slumberings."

The puzzlement that had clouded Zelda's mind gave way to indignation. "I shall do no such thing! If that prophet believes he can get me running to him because of a few sweet words," she crossed her arms, "he will be disappointed!"

"He said you'd say that."

Heads turned, trying to locate the source of the whisper, before settling upon the Moonlord's messenger. Pale as the moon itself, the child appeared fully miserable.

"Did he?" Despite herself, Zelda was curious.

"He said to show you this." The boy turned and pulled the upper part of his tunic over his head. Along his back, running nearly from shoulder to waist, an angry red line puckered its way across his skin. A shocked murmur ran through the surrounding crowd as the women in front whispered curses, and the women behind craned to see what their fellows were reacting to.

"He said I shall get two more if you don't come to the Temple." The small voice was furthered muffled by the tunic. "If I fail him."

Zelda's sprang forward, horrified, and gently pulled the boy's tunic down, turning him to face her as she did so. "What's your name?" she asked, and mirrored his wince as the cloth stuck once more to his back.

"Alexander." Grey eyes stared into her blue.

"Well Alexander, you have not failed. I will go to the Temple."

"But princess!" Selena protested, stepping forwards. "That's what the Moonlord wants you to do! He knew you wouldn't come unless he threatened the boy!"

Zelda's eyes blazed. "I know."

"What if uses his magic on you? He rules that Temple! The king has no authority there!"

"I have my own defenses." Zelda lied, knowing full well that she hadn't been able to access her power since Kakoriko. "And your sword…if you would strike your own prophet."

Selena's gaze settled on Alexander. "Believe me princess, I'd do more than strike him."

"Then I have nothing to worry about." The princess pulled herself upright and began to give orders. "Captain, keep two of your guards here to look after Alexander and assign three, including yourself, to accompany me. I know you've been planning to shift the guard three times a day, so have the next shift meet me here before I leave to dine with that noble."

Walking to a mirror, Zelda began adjusting the clips in her hair while studying her reflection. "I've never wanted to slap a priest before."

Her last words echoed through the room, eliciting a roll of bleak laughter from the bustling women.

000

_Thunk!_

A knife, six inches of tempered steel, slammed into the headboard. The tang quivered within its leather binding as the anger of a frustrated assassin resonated in the metal. Like a flash of light it had sped across the modest room before Garrett had even registered Demon's movement. A perfect killing throw.

The two men were sitting in a small room in the North Quarter, their bleak emotion contrasted by the cheery morning light which filtered through a miniscule window. It was the room a minor Terminian noble had recently vacated for the "Lord Demon", a room the assassin had paid for with another's blood. Which was why Garret was also present, having been called upon to make peace between Zelda's former bodyguard and the irate soldiers.

"You should have to come to me last night," the prince rubbed his temples wearily. "This could have been avoided."

_Thunk!_ Another knife, another perfect throw.

"The family will demand compensation. I warned you, all the servants in the Hidden Palace have a noble connection. I can't ignore their accusations!"

_Thunk!_ A thing of beauty, a spinning precision, scything it's way through Garret's words.

"It will take weeks for the man to heal! And he'll probably fear the dark for the rest of his life!"

A silence stretched, for a second, then…

_Thunk!_

"The man," Demon finally answered, "shouldn't rouse people with the point of his sword."

Garret winced. "I do not know where you are from assassin, perhaps I do not wish to know. But here, in Termina, we do not cripple men for waking us."

_Thunk!_

"I stopped as soon as I realized he was no threat."

Garrets studied the quivering hilt with vague interest, his mind elsewhere. "I believe you, but that does not make you less guilty. Had you come to me last night, I could have corrected this oversight and given you a room. Then no servant would have found you slumbering in the Garden Quarter, and Kent would still have use of his arm!"

He muttered to himself for a moment, frowning, then jumped as a revelation hit him. "When the Moonlord hears this the whole Temple will shake with his rejoicing! You heard that bloody prophecy assassin, and now you've given him his first omen!"

"That prophecy. It is a fake."

"Well of course!" Garret snorted, "If we don't believe in the Maiden, then how can we believe in her prophecies? Or anything else that viper of a prophet says?"

_Thunk!_

"Yet much of it is true, too much for it to be a lie."

The prince glanced up to stare at the assassin. "What do you mean?"

Demon ignored him. "The Moonlord claimed the Maiden came to him in a dream. Has anyone else had these visions?"

Garret shrugged helplessly. "I wouldn't know. As I said, I spend little time here in Clocktown." He paused. "And the prophet's visions only began recently."

_Thunk!_

"Yet the whole Council trembles at the words of one man. Unproven. Unexplained." Demon spun yet another knife through his fingers. "Your people are stupid prince."

Snorting, Garrett crossed his arms. "You would do well not to insult them, since you desperately need their aid. But," he mused, "I am tempted to agree. The nobles run like children before the prophet's drivel, more scared of his fantastic threats than the army of moblins which overruns their borders. Why, I cannot comprehend."

Demon shrugged. "You are a man of the sword."

"Yes! I am a man of the sword." The prince growled. " Give me a blade and an army and I will fight my way to the Dark Realm! But don't leave me here, trapped in this web of politics!" Garret rubbed his temples vigorously, pacing around the room on a path that almost made him collide with the dagger that flashed from Demon's hand towards the splintering headboard.

_Thunk!_

"I hope your wish is granted," the assassin growled, "for your sake and mine."

The prince smiled bitterly. "Termina will honour the old alliances eventually."

"Perhaps."

_Thunk!_

"The Aratian ambassador, Vaine, she spoke of you to the Council."

"She claimed Zelda sent you to assassinate the Aratian king, and Aratia retaliated by invading Hyrule. If that is true, then you Hylians started the war and Termina has no obligation to aid you."

Demon growled. "She lies. I-" he halted, not wanting to give any hint of his past as a gladiator in Aratia. "have never been given such an order. Hyrule has a long quarrel with Aratia, but the princess would never stoop to assassination."

Sighing, Garret readjusted his coat. "I know, but the Council is eager to believe her. They would believe anything to avoid their obligation to your country." He looked up with a strange gleam in his eye. "She's pretty though."

"Vaine?" Demon voice was incredulous.

"Aye. It sways some of the nobles to her side."

The assassin's eyes narrowed. "Does she tempt you prince?"

For the first time since the beginning of their discussion, Garret broke out with one of his characteristic booming laughs. "Of course. I'm only a man, after all!" His laughter echoed around the room and then died as his mind wandered. "Only a man, amidst a Council of vipers," he muttered.

_Thunk! _

Another blade appeared in Demon's hand as soon as the last one vacated it. "Are there any nobles who support the princess against the Moonlord?"

"Some. Many wish to believe her, and yet are too scared of their fellows. A few are waiting for my father's decision on the matter. But there are also some who have declared for her already." He paused. "She and I, and you Demon, have been invited to dine with one of the latter."

_Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!_

Three weapons buried themselves in the headboard in quick succession, three more opponents felled in the space of a moment. Then the assassin met Garrett's eyes. His voice, when he spoke, was full of foreboding.

"I will not be welcome there."

Garret snorted. "We need friends assassin, and we won't make any by sitting in our rooms sulking. Besides," he clapped his hands in anticipation, "Lord Damrod is known for his table. He shall serve us a feast worth remembering!"

"I will not be going."

_Thunk!_

"Of course not. I'll send Russ to get you at the appropriate time." Frowning, he surveyed the damage Demon's night in the forest had done to the assassin's coat. "With some appropriate clothes. I-"

He was cut off as a dagger streaked past his face, ricocheted off the stone wall, and plunged into a small, drab portrait of Garret's father which hung beside the bed. Neatly bisected, the top half of the canvas curled downward to completely obscure the royal image.

Garret swore impulsively. "By the Goddesses man! How many of those bloody knives do you have?"

Demon shrugged. "I've never counted."

_Thunk!_

000

The Temple of the Maiden was not as large as the palace. The architects had known that even a massive building would be overshadowed by the ancient tower at Clocktown's center, and so they had made the temple unique, rather than grandiose. The outer wall was a perfect circle broken only by the four entrances, its sandstone expanse sheeted in plates of hammered metal. Each plate was rust-proofed by the magics of the Maiden's priests and etched with the symbol of the crescent moon. During the day the temple glittered like winter ice, and during the night it shone pale and ethereal among the shadowy buildings which surrounded it. During the day a column of smoke could be seen, a serpentine ribbon across the sky drifting up from the temple's heart. During the night sometimes things were seen, but they were nover spoken of.

Beyond the entrances, the Maiden's stronghold resembled the architecture of the Hidden Palace. Pillars and sandstone, snaking corriders and uniform intersections created a maze which could only be successfully navigated by those few who had sworn their lives to the goddess. They alone understood the sacred markings inscribed in the walls or knew the order of the laws etched in the floor. But even so, it was not uncommon for the Moonlord to round a corner and find an acolyte dozing against a wall, having become lost on his way to the dormitories. Such was the deception of the maze.

The Moonlord himself had never been lost in his own temple. Indeed, he had helped the original architects design the twisting passages and labyrinthine structures, which curled downwards into the earth under the temple and linked it to the rest of the Maiden's compound. He had wanted it to be like the goddess he served, endless as the heavenly spheres, circular as the moon, and quiet as the voices which whispered her secrets in his head. He was proud of the fact that just as the moon and stars circled the earth, the maze circled the sanctuary of the Maiden.

She also was pleased by his devotion, as she had recently told him.

He glanced back to the stone-faced princess and her retinue, who glided along behind her, and suppressed a grimace. One thing the Maiden had not been pleased about was the arrival of this "Princess Zelda". His goddess had assured him of the disasters she would inspire, revealed the truths about the devious character which plotted behind her flawless face, and warned him of her purpose in Termina. The punishment the Maiden had promised, should he fail to intervene, had made the Moonlord's mouth go dry.

"I see it does not rain in Clocktown." The question caught the Moonlord off guard. He looked up at the blue sky through the open ceiling, and considered how to answer her. It was a trivial query, nothing more, but the question was also the first civil phrase Zelda had addressed to him. Their initial meeting in the temple portico had consisted of the MoonLord stammering defenses while the princess ranted about his treatment of one of the acolytes, her emotion mirroring the fury he himself had shown the day before in the council chamber.

"Not often." The priest glanced down at his silver robes to remind himself of the authority he possessed, more authority than any displaced royal. He, who had conversed with the goddess herself, could not, would not, be intimidated by a mere mortal. The acolyte, Alexander, had needed to be disciplined for numerous reasons, and his punishment had been a useful tool in bringing the princess to the temple. He would, of course, still get the rest of the required three lashes once he returned. It was the law.

"What happens when it does?"

Trailing a hand across the rough sandstone wall, the Moonlord glanced back at her. "The water follows the slant of these corridors and drains into a cistern beneath the Holy Chamber. Only the water from that cistern may be used to nourish the temple's gardens. It is the will of the Maiden."

He felt, rather than saw, the princess's smirk. "The will of the Maiden. Of course."

Anger rose up in him like a storm, but it was quickly forced down. He had lost his temper in front of the Council, and with it his chance to save them from Zelda's treachery; he could not let it happen again. Even if her blasphemy was appalling.

Unfortunately, the princess' taunts were the cause of only part of his frustration. The priest still did not understand why he had been forced to humble himself before her in the first place. Why the Maiden had told him to summon this witch, this wolf in sheep's clothing, into the very heart of her influence. The Moonlord longed to turn on Zelda and use his Goddess's power to purge her evil, yet he dared not. Instead he found himself groveling before her like a collared dog, ordered to submit in feigned acquiescence to her every wish.

"Please your majesty, notice the runes in the floor." He tried not to grit his teeth. "Can you read what is written there?"

"No." Zelda said. The characters ran a rigid single-file line through the center of the corridor, before meeting around a single rune in the intersections. Despite the fact that Termina and Hyrule shared a common language, the Moonlord knew Zelda couldn't read the inscriptions.

"Few can, they are written in Old Terminian." His robes swished as he turned a quick left into another section of the maze. "The true path, from the entrance to the center of the temple, is inscribed with all two hundred of the Maiden's laws."

The princess suddenly knelt down to study a section of law, forcing the Moonlord to wait for her. "Two hundred laws," she breathed.

"All recorded in the Book of the Maiden." The priest's smile was proud.

"What is this law, here?" Zelda's finger pointed to a set of inscriptions between her and the priest.

The man inspected it for a moment, his smile souring. "Just a law your majesty, the same as any other."

"What does it say?" There was something of an order in the princess's voice.

"Honour is the way to wisdom," the Moonlord began grudgingly. "Wisdom is the way to faith, and faith is the way to the Maiden. Follow this path-"

Selena interrupted him. "I may not read Old Terminian you pompous, arrogant-"

"Captain!" Zelda interrupted her in turn.

The Valkyrie grumbled something under her breath, but continued in a politer tone. "I may not understand most of these squiggles, but I know this one is 'goat'. Am I wrong priest?"

Inside his head, the Moonlord imagined what it would feel like to rip the soul from her body. "No. Perhaps I am the one who is mistaken."

"So what has the Maiden decreed about goats?" Zelda asked.

"Law 147: 'It is the Maiden's will that man shall not make love to goats or other hooved animals.' It was previously a common practice aboard pirate vessels." The priests eyes flicked back and forth between the princess and her bodyguards, daring them to say anything. Inevitably it was Selena who answered his challenge.

"Judging from your looks, I'd say that's a law your father broke."

"Heretic!" the Moonlord snapped, and Selena's smile wavered as his eyes turned as silver as his robe. "I will not permit blasphemy within my own temple!" Just as he was calling on the Maiden, Zelda stepped between him and her frightened captain.

"Peace! We shall not squabble like angry children." Turning to Selena, she grabbed the woman's arm, which had been drifting towards her sword. "Find your way back to the entrance and wait for me captain, I will not tolerate you baiting our host."

"Princess!" Selena protested vehemently, but Zelda would have none of it.

"Go captain! Obey me!" She turned back to the Moonlord as her two other guards stepped forwards to flank her. "I will not apologize for her priest, just as you would not apologize for whipping Alexander, but I also will not allow you to kill one of my guards."

For a moment the priest just stared, his body trembling with fury, but then he grudgingly regained his civility. "Of course, princess." The Moonlord truly hoped that the captain would get lost on the way back, and stay lost long enough for her to be detained by one of his servants. He'd see how funny she was once the Maiden had punished her for her ignorance.

He closed his eyes, frustrated both with himself and this mockery of a role he was forced to play. Why had the Maiden ordered this? Why was his Goddess humiliating him?

As if in answer, the blessed whispers began. The priest's eyes flickered open in surprise, oblivious to Zelda's curious scrutiny, as the Maiden's orders trickled into his mind. Fickle as moonlight, the Maiden had waited till the last minute to reveal her will, but now, finally, he understood.

"Please follow," he ordered, distracted enough to drop any pretense of courtesy, "the altar is waiting."

Behind Zelda's back, the two Valkyries exchanged nervous looks, but their fear was lost on the princess. Marching determinedly after their host, she seemed perfectly oblivious to the sudden menace in the air, or perhaps set to defy it. Both potential answers were depressing to the Valkyries, who really just wanted to turn around while they still could. They had heard the rumours about the sanctuary, Zelda had not.

The procession never halted as it passed through more intersections, the floor sloping down, then up, then down again as the Moonlord led them in a convoluted route which was not strictly necessary but would (he hoped) ensure their confusion. Formerly bright, the patches of sunlight on the floor began to dull as the sky clouded over and the labyrinth darkened. Down one corridor they passed the sound of children's voices could be heard, down another the clamour of pots and pans. Sometimes they were confronted by priests, who would whisper a humble greeting to their leader before drifting away. Then, finally, the Moonlord motioned the company to a halt.

He paused dramatically, pulling himself to his full height and raising his arms so his robe billowed about him. He would make Zelda respect this, the inner sanctum of the Maiden, his pride demanded it.

"The Door of Reckoning lies before you," he announced. "Those who enter with dark intentions will be cursed forever. Take care to not place yourself among them." Hoping they were chastened and penitent he swept through the symbolic entrance and into the heart of his religion.

Zelda and her guards followed him more carefully. The Moonlord noticed smugly that the Valkyries closed their eyes as they stepped through the door, as if they expected to burst into flame. He personally knew that the only power the door held was that of tradition, but it was still a useful tool for placing his enemies off guard.

"The altar of the Maiden!"

The sanctuary was the only ceremonial chamber in the temple completely enclosed from the elements, and the few lamps scattered within it were fighting a losing battle against the darkness. It's corners faded into nothingness, and the rounded dome above, flecked with chips of reflective mica to simulate stars, seemed to extend upwards into the sky. There were no pillars to give context, no ornaments to break the illusion of infinity; everything swirled upwards and outwards from the figure which dominated the chamber's center.

Stepping proudly forward through the wafting incense, the Moonlord approached the pedestal and fell to his knees. He eyes caressed the alabaster statue of his Goddess with a fervency that had never abated through his many visits to the sanctuary, and his mouth whispered things that not even he could hear. The soft steps of his companions forced him back to the present, and he turned to the three women to gauge their reaction.

It was disappointing really. The two Valkyries were openly confused, and the eyes of the princess were filled with a revulsion that was apparent even in the half-light. He had not expected much from them, but their incomprehension was still disappointing. The truth was before them, and yet they did not see it.

"Princess," he began, patience wearing thin, "send your guard outside, we have something to discuss."

Her initial shock at his order immediately turned to confliction, just as he'd hoped it would. The priest knew the last thing Zelda wanted was to be left alone with him, and yet there was no diplomatic way to refuse the direct order and still hear his words. She had to compromise, and a compromise was all he needed.

"Of course." The princess motioned to her guards. "Just stay inside the door...for the sake of my honour." Her tight smile betrayed anything but humour.

The Moonlord studied the obsidian orbs of the Maiden's eyes as he waited for the Valkyries' footsteps to retreat out of range. She was so beautiful, so life-like he'd almost forgotten she was only an idol, a representation of the real thing.

Reaching out to place a hand over the statue's foot, he turned his head towards Zelda. "She was carved under my direction, by four of the most skilled craftsmen in Termina. I swear she is the image of the Goddess herself."

"Truly? I do not know how you decide such things." Zelda's posture was regal, but the unease the priest sensed within her took the sting from her words.

"I often see the Maiden within my visions, so it is easy to compare. Of course the statue is but a shadow of her sacred form."

The princess was silent for a moment, so he waited, anticipating a rebuke. It came, but not in the form he expected.

"I did not think a Goddess would appear so…"

"She is accurate to every detail. I changed nothing." Stiffening, the priest could not help but sound defensive.

"Of course."

The Moonlord tried to unobtrusively remove his hand from the statue, but even the dim light could not hide his actions. He bitterly remembered some of the comments made about the idol when it was first unveiled in the late winter, and the rage he had felt at the people's ignorance. How could they profane the sacred ideal with their blasphemy?

"Princess," his voice was harsh, "you are not welcome in Termina."

Once again, he'd shocked her, so he pressed onwards. "You know this, I know this. The Maiden herself has judged you."

Zelda's eyes narrowed. "I disagree. I-"

"Yet," the priest continued, "there is the matter of the treaty Termina has with Hyrule. Law seventy-nine of the Book of the Maiden states that we must honour the promises we have made, for so we gain honour ourselves. Obviously there is a contradiction."

Shadows floated across the princess's face like thoughts, and yet he could read none of them. So again he pressed on, hoping for her to see reason.

"Forget Hyrule, princess. Forget this war. In return, I can see to it that you receive a large estate her in Termina to live as comfortable in exile as possible. You know the cost that a war would bring to both your remaining people and my own, the cost in blood upon your hands. It is better to admit defeat than to make them endure more suffering."

She looked at him strangely then, and the Moonlord wondered if she knew that his words were not his own, but instead those of the voice whispering within him. She couldn't, obviously, and yet the doubt irritated him.

"It would be wise princess."

A silence stretched between them as both became suddenly aware of the patter of falling rain against the dome. It grew stronger, then abated, then grew again, quickly joined by the echoing trickle of run-off washing into the cistern. The smell of sweet spring rain wove its way into the sanctuary, permeating their silence.

Finally, Zelda spoke. "It would seem wise, but for the things you have forgotten. Do you remember nothing I said to the Council? Whether you decide to aid me or not, this war will surely engulf you, and you will be forced to choose a side. It is destiny."

"Blasphemy."

"Destiny!"

The Moonlord scoffed. "I have been warned of your lies, princess, they will not sway me. I would more quickly accuse your pet Demon of controlling the moblin hordes than the Aratians, since it is in your interest they seem to act!" Control floundered as the priest's voice rang against the stonework. "You started this war! You and that damned assassin!"

"Did the Maiden tell you that?" Sharp as the idol's obsidian nails, Zelda's words cut through the shadow between them.

"The ambassador Vaine did. The Maiden only proved it!"

"Then your Goddess, priest, is as blind as you are. I see no further need to waste my time here." The princess turned on one heel and stomped to the protection of her guards, but froze as the Moonlord's voice rang out behind her.

"Than you bring this tragedy upon yourself. I wish you well trying to reach the entrance without a guide."

Zelda took another step.

"When you tire of wandering in circles, call for one of my priests and they will lead you back here. Perhaps then you will reconsider my offer."

Zelda took another step, launching a final insult over her shoulder as she stepped beyond the Door of Reckoning. "Never! I will not serve you or your statue of a whore."

A cry of rage sounded behind the three women as they hurried quickly down a corridor, not really caring where they fled as long as it was away from the altar. Rain soaked their clothes and hissed against the sandstone, dampening the sound of their flight and becoming their guardian. For the priests, those the Moonlord had counted on to stop them, had been driven back to the dormitories by the downpour.

Zelda remembered the Moonlord's words about the cistern, and tried to lead her companions upwards, but it was almost impossible amidst the twisting, fluctuating patterns of the temple. She really had no idea where the entrance lay, and the seemingly endless labyrinth quickly destroyed her sense of direction. Lost and shivering, they turned a dozen corners, their thoughts turning from the hope of escape to the desire for shelter. Then Zelda spotted a covered archway and rushed her bodyguards through it into the chamber beyond.

It did have a roof, which was good. Unfortunately, an open portal in the center allowed a column of rain to spill down over a marble pedestal, filling the engravings which spiraled from it with water. The strangely peaceful scene froze all three women in their tracks as they watched the droplets vaporize against stone.

"Greetings, Destiny."

Zelda stiffened, hardly daring to breath as she turned slowly towards the voice. Who within the temple knew her secret? More importantly, how had they known? She shivered as her gaze fell on a figure, dressed all in black, pressed against the wall beside the door. The face was hidden behind the dull ebony of a mask, yet the movements as it pushed away from the stone betrayed the carefulness of long disuse or advanced age. The voice, soft as it was, riveted the princess with its intensity.

"Has the Moonlord warned you of me? Perhaps not. He wishes to forget I exist. Sometimes he succeeds." The figure shuffled a step closer to Zelda, then stopped as the two Valkyries drew their swords. "As always, the young fight confusion with violence. Do not fear! Once my hands could hurt, but no longer. I seek only an answer to a question."

Zelda eyed him cautiously, fully aware that she was still within the stronghold of her enemy. Her instincts told her to turn and run, but her mind reminded her that fleeing back into the labyrinth would only prolong her capture, not avoid it. "Tell me how to solve this maze, and I will perhaps answer your question."

The figure sighed. "You ask much, but no more than I was prepared to offer, answer or not. Even so, the Moonlord's anger is terrible and his wrath could do much damage. No to me, never to me, but Alexander, he will suffer terribly."

"The boy!" Zelda broke into his rambling, "Why will he be punished?"

"He is weak, the priest is strong."

"Who are you?" One of the Valkyries spoke up, keeping her sword point carefully centred on the figure's chest."

"You are Terminian, are you not? Am I forgotten so easily?" He paused. "I am Teiresius, Lord of the Void. I was meant to counterbalance the Moonlord's power, but the moon has grown powerful and I have not. So I ask you," the mask turned towards Zelda, "princess of a thousand prophecies, have you found Courage?"

Zelda studied the mask, seeing the reflection of the watery pillar in its gleaming surface. For a moment, only the hissing of the rain could he heard.

"Yes." She finally answered.

A hollow laugh rang out from behind the mask. "Then I will help you, though it is your destiny to bleed Termina dry." He paused, then continued in a rush. "Leave this place, then turn left, then left again. Follow that path, for it will lead you to the East entrance."

The three women stared blankly at him, as if they had not understood his words. "Go!" he muttered, motioning quickly. "Before the Moonlord comes!"

The Valkyries turned and rushed out, but Zelda was momentarily stopped as the priest caught her hand. The iron in his grip dispelled any illusions she had about his helplessness, whatever he had claimed. "Do not come here again," he whispered before releasing her. "There will be no escape the second time."

The mask was true to his word. Two lefts and nervous walk later, Zelda found herself staring into the disapproving face of Selena, and had to admit, if only to herself, that she'd been wrong to send the Captain away. For her part, Selena looked contemplatively at Zelda's soaked clothing, then back to her face, not realizing the dire circumstance of the princess's escape.

"We'll have to hurry if we don't want to miss your dinner appointment."

Zelda's teeth chattered as she looked beseechingly to the sky, receiving a raindrop in the eye for her effort.

000

Author's Note:

I thought that was an okay chapter. I mean it had it's rough bits (goats? Seriously? Where did that come from?), but overall it worked well. I'm having to set up a lot of things at once, so I'm sure you'll notice that there are some loose ends, but don't worry, most of them get resolved. :-)

For those of you who happen to have been around for a while, you might notice that this is probably the fastest update I've had since 2006ish. You can thank my elbow for that. Don't get used to this though, cause it won't last.

I would like some feedback about the religion of the Maiden. I was very excited to get to create my own religion, and I pulled from a number of sources to try and give it some rudimentary mechanics. What do you guys think so far? Would you convert, if given the option? :-)

And just so you know, I'm super excited for Chapter 64. it's a very important chapter considering this story is written about a game on the N-64. :-) It's gonna blow your guys's minds...I hope.

See ya!

Celeborn00


	62. Chapter 62

Chapter 62

A soft, gelatinous creature floated peacefully in Demon's glass. Eyes like saucers. Body like a sheep's bladder. Tentacles like a sea monster.

Demon stared at it suspiciously, trying to understand first how such a creature could exist, and second why it should exist within his glass. Initially he had been sure it was a disastrous mistake on the part of the servants, but a quick glance around the table had revealed that every glass was likewise inhabited. Therefore, the assassin considered, it could be part of the menu, an example of Lord Damrod's famous table. Or it could be a decoration. But then again, who would serve a sea monster in a cup as decoration?

The others, Zelda, Garrett, Lord Damrod, and a few nobles were chatting amiably. None of them seemed at all perplexed by the glass before them, and yet no one, Demon noted, had yet to touch it. Instead they discussed the weather and the blossoming spring, their gesturing hands casting long shadows across the laden table. Isolated between two conversations, the assassin was forced to return to staring at his glass.

Wholly disgusted, he leaned back in his chair. Whatever was floating in there he would undoubtedly be forced to eat, and the idea repulsed him. Why was this happening to him when he hadn't even wanted to come in the first place? He'd construed many reasons why his presence would be undesirable, good reasons, and yet each person he'd explained them to over the course of the morning had ignored him. Even the servants, who were supposed to be scared of him, had been relentless in their badgering, ignoring his threats and curses with uneasy determination. It just wasn't—the creature moved!

Demon whipped towards Zelda and poked her in the arm, drawing her impatient and slightly irritated attention. "It's alive!" He whispered and motioned to the glass. "Damrod's trying to kill us!"

The princess graced him with a tight smile. "I'm sure it will be explained. Just stay calm and don't touch it." She immediately turned back to the man she was talking to, leaving Demon even more frustrated than before.

The assassin's eyes narrowed. Of course he wasn't going to touch the bloody thing! What he _was_ going to do was kill it. His eyes travelled around the table. Everyone seemed thoroughly engrossed in conversation, so his fingers slipped the small sharp knife from beside his plate. With his other hand he anchored the bottom of the glass as the creature swam in small, oblivious circles, unaware of its coming demise. Demon breathed in, then out, and his knife flashed in a blurred arc.

Four things happened almost simultaneously. First, the noble talking to Zelda pounded his fist on the table to emphasize a point, throwing off Demon's aim. Second, the sea monster responded to the errant jab by letting loose a cloud of ink. Third, the assassin's knife bounced off the bottom of the glass with a ringing clang, which ended all conversation at the table. Fourth, everyone looked at Demon.

He stared back, trying his best to look intimidating and not guilty. He had made the knife disappear as soon as his assault had failed, but he could do nothing about the suddenly black liquid in his glass, or the way it trembled as the tiny creature inside careened off the walls in panicked flight. On his left Garret was trying not to laugh, on his right Zelda was giving him a venomous glare, and across from him their host, the Lord Damrod, had furrowed his brows.

There was a long silence.

"Does the _cephus_ displease you, Lord Demon?" The lord finally asked.

Demon glanced at his glass, then at Zelda's stormy face, and promptly decided it was time to lie.

"No." he said.

Damrod's face brightened. "Excellent! I fear they are a bit undersized, but it's the best my servants could do considering the circumstances. I rejoice that they found any, small or not, for a feast without _cephus_ is hardly a feast at all! Wouldn't you agree?"

"Completely." The mask which was Demon's face twitched, but held.

"Ah! A fellow connoisseur!" Damrod's smile couldn't have been brighter. "I had understood that Hylians did not enjoy _cephus_, but I am happy to be proved wrong. Then perhaps," he motioned eagerly to Demon's glass, "you could the honour?"

A hush fell over the table as each guest looked expectantly at Demon. He gritted his teeth. If eating a sea monster would give Zelda a better chance of raising her army, then he would eat it. Even the tentacles.

He grabbed the glass in both hands, lifted to his lips, and drained the contents in a series of swift gulps. The vile and unexpected bitterness of salt water made his stomach revolt, and yet the assassin somehow managed to force it into obedience. Shaken but triumphant, he met Lord Damrod's eyes.

They were as wide as those of the _cephus_. "You…why…you ate it! By the Goddesses!" Picking up his own glass, he eyed the hapless creature within. "My cooks will be outraged! But what boldness…what brilliance!"

His audience sat transfixed, their eyes locked on Demon's empty glass, and their minds locked on what Demon now realized had been a major breach of protocol. He mentally winced. So the creature served a different purpose. He wished he'd known that before he'd swallowed it.

"This could be the start of a culinary revolution!" Damrod continued, becoming more flamboyant by the word. "_Cephus_ as a dish! Sautéed, grilled, fried, boiled. Such possibility!"

Spontaneously he grabbed his own glass, shaking it to produce another inky cloud. "To the Lord Demon!" he toasted, but the other nobles, still in shock, watched him unmoving. "To the Lord Demon!" he insisted. For a moment he hesitated, but then, carried away by excitement, he drained his glass.

Afterwards, coughing, he continued to congratulate Demon. "Brilliant my Lord, completely brilliant!" Then the lord's smile wavered, and his face turned a shade paler. Mumbling something under his breath, he fled the room.

An uneasy silence spread like icing over the remaining nobles. Eyes wandered around the room while studiously ignoring Demon and his empty glass, their calculated indifference speaking more than accusations ever could. One man at the far end leaned to his neighbor and whispered something that, although a dozen pairs of ears craned to hear, was not audible.

Garret, typically, was the first to break the silence. "Traditionally, you're supposed to feed the _cephus_, not…do what you did." He muttered to Demon. "From here." His hands moved to a covered dish and opened it to reveal a dozen tiny shrimp.

"Of course! Why didn't I think of that?" Furious, the assassin almost hissed the words. Only the presence of Zelda at his side prevented a tirade about idiotic Terminian customs.

Unperturbed, Garret smirked. "You have a strong stomach Lord Demon."

The assassin was about to reply when he felt a twinge within his gut and winced instead. Thankfully Garret didn't notice. Any further comments were made impossible as Damrod made his return to the table, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin.

"Brilliant!" he repeated one last time, and that was that.

For Demon the meal only grew worse from there. Ostracized for his blunder with the _cephus_ and forced to eat under Zelda's critical gaze, the assassin longed to return to his quarters and resume throwing knives into his wall. No matter how careful he tried to be he always seemed to be grabbing the wrong utensil, choking on some foreign spice, or slopping wine onto the princess's skirt. The third time he grated his knife against his plate even Lord Damrod gave him a disapproving glance, and Demon barely stopped himself from flicking a different knife between the man's eyes. He'd already eaten a bloody sea monster, didn't they know he'd suffered enough?

Zelda, by contrast, was magnificent. She cooed over her own _cephus _until Damrod nearly burst with pride, and her voice, brimming with laugher, seasoned every conversation around the table. The nobles vied for her attention like children for affection, and several seemed to come within a hair's breadth of swearing allegiance. Even Garret was dwarfed by her presence as she took control of the meal.

As for the food itself, it seemed divinely inspired. Damrod's chefs, whoever they were, had created matchless works of art, despite the havoc the endless blizzard had wreaked on their stores. The meats passed along the tables were such as had never before graced the lips of mortals (according to Garret), and the bread could have paid a king's ransom (according to Zelda). Between the meal itself and the shameless compliments of the guests, things were turning into quite the party.

Then Damrod brought out the Gerudo mead, and it became a party in every sense of the word. Zelda and Demon were careful to quietly abstain, but even they could not help but be affected by the celebratory mood which swept over the rest of the room. Zelda smiled more, Demon less.

"Tell me princess," Damrod asked, clumsily feeding a shrimp to his neighbour's _cephus, "_how long will you be staying in Termina?" He'd only had about a thimble-full of the amber mead, and yet the effect upon his table etiquette had been devastating. Zelda pitied those sitting beside him.

"I have not decided." It was the truth, though not a direct answer to Damrod's question.

"Of course not." The lord quickly agreed. "It is a tragedy what has happened to your country and it would be a shame to…" He blinked as he tried to make sense of what he was saying, then failed. "Of course not."

Unsure how to reply, Zelda smiled instead.

Damrod smiled hesitantly back. "Do you think you'll be staying until the Festival?"

Zelda paused. "What festival?"

"You don't celebrate the Festival?" the lord spluttered. "But you worship the Goddesses!"

The princess shrugged helplessly, unable to reply as Garret finished a rather scandalous joke and two nobles burst into raucous laughter. Inhibitions unraveled around her as the mead took its toll.

"The first day of Spring! The Festival of Time!" pressed Damrod. "Singing, dancing, games, and music to honour the passing of the year!"

"The children already talk of nothing else!" said the noble to Damrod's right.

"As do the lovers." Garret's eyes held a mischievous gleam.

Zelda jumped as, once again, Demon's knife grated against his plate. "If the Festival worships the Goddesses, why does the Moonlord allow it?" she asked.

"Because the people love it!" Damrod almost knocked over his own wineglass "It's the biggest holiday of the year!"

"The costumes alone take weeks to prepare," Garret elaborated, " the masks considerably longer."

"Masks?" The question left Zelda's lips as her mind conjured a picture of Tieresius.

"Everyone must have a mask at the Festival. Half the fun is trying to guess who's who!" Garret puffed himself up, almost falling off his chair. "During the dancing, you look at your partner and wonder: Is she a noblewoman? A serving-maid? Perhaps another man? Who can tell?"

"It is truly a marvelous occasion!" Damrod agreed earnestly.

Zelda giggled, flicking her gaze between the two of them and wondering how much of their present state was genuine. Were they actually drunk, or just acting the part? Any doubts she had were silenced as Garret clumsily turned to the assassin on his right.

"I've had an idea Lord Demon! Perhaps you should go dressed as a _cephus,_ since you seem so fascinated by them!"

Damrod's guffaw was cut short as the assassin snarled his reply. "To the Dark Realm with your festivals!"

For the second time in the same meal every conversation ceased as the assembled nobles turned as one to stare at the assassin. The festive mood of moments before faded to be replaced by a perturbed agitation. Zelda's mind raced as she sought of a way to yet again stave off the growing conflict.

"In Hyrule that is a grave insult." Her voice as she reprimanded Garret was as severe as her stare. "You might guard your tongue more carefully in the future." Ignoring the prince's thunderous glare she turned to Damrod. "Yet I myself am woefully ill-informed on Termina's customs in another matter and desire your guidance. I wish the Lord Demon to teach me the sword, but do not want to lower myself in the eyes of your countrymen. Is such a thing possible?"

All three men froze, speechless, and Zelda, satisfied with her handiwork, allowed herself a slight smile. In the space of a few pretty words she had silenced Garret, distracted Damrod, and bribed Demon into silence. Of course her manipulation was hardly subtle, but the question of weapons training had been weighing on her mind since Kakoriko, and it was time to pursue it.

In the several moments it took Damrod to formulate a coherent answer, the other nobles returned to their own conversations. None of them quite understood how Zelda had prevented the duel they had been hoping for, but fortunately none were sober enough to care.

"I…I…" the lord stammered, "I do not know. Before the Valkyries such a thing would have been unheard of, but now it seems almost fashionable. Of course, usually women train the women. To prevent scandal." He added hastily.

Zelda nodded primly. "I understand. But I refuse to be trained by any but the best." She looked meaningfully to the assassin. "Demon is the best."

Something was mumbled under Garret's breath, but even drunk he was wise enough not to say it out loud. The princess turned on him anyway. "Since your father seems to desire my patience, rather than my presence, I find myself able to start training today. Could you suggest a suitable location?"

"Perhaps, if you invite me." The prince's eyes cleared a little as some of the old twinkle returned.

"Gladly."

"There is a nice spot in the Garden Quarter. Russ can lead you to it."

"Are you certain princess?" Demon broke in, his words uncertain rather than harsh.

"Of course." Zelda almost sighed with the stress of a day that was continually becoming more difficult. She worked hard to keep her face smooth. "We could both use the distraction."

000

The sun was high in the sky, hot and motionless. Fierce enough to reflect waves off the dark marble of the palace and force servants to squint as they wound their way across the lawns. In the gardens the tang of life intermingled with the sweltering reek of earth, the morning dew only a forgotten memory in the still air. Vines and creepers wound their way up trellises, poppies blazed colour, and sunflowers sagged under the weight of their growing blossoms.

Here and there lords and ladies walked the paths with dignified resilience to the heat. Some were still dressed in their winter fashions and suffered accordingly, but most had reclaimed their summer finery from dusty closets and flaunted it proudly. Like beads on a wire screen they moved back and forth along predetermined paths, colliding suddenly to discuss a myriad of topics, and then moving on as quickly as before. One name was on everyone's lips, although few would admit to its importance.

In one more wild corner of the gardens, only the erratic flight of insects broke the tableau, their sleepy droning accompanied by the sweet scent of nectar. One fat bumblebee labored its way from flower to flower down a narrow lane of orchids as its ever increasing burden threatened to pull it from the air. It looped and wavered, a minor player in the idyllic order of the garden. A bee among blossoms. A perfect moment.

Smack!

The bee, rebounding off the flat of a wooden sword, careened into a nearby bush. Zelda smiled, satisfied.

"Was that necessary princess?" The assassin stood ten paces beyond her, leaning on his own sword.

She grimaced. "Probably not."

Dressed once again in her form-fitting Shiekan suit, Zelda was actually, for the first time since the early morning, in a good mood. Some of the feeling she blamed upon the glorious sun overhead, but most, she knew, was a result of finally being away from the political intrigues she was spinning and being spun into. The princess had only entered Clocktown the day before, and yet already she felt as if she'd been there for a season. The river of time had rushed her along through rapid, fall, and flood, and now all she wanted was a break. Normally the princess would not have felt that weapons training would constitute such a break, but these were extenuating circumstances.

The first part of her and Demon's lesson had been spent discussing the events of the morning, a discussion that ended with consternation for both parties. Zelda was openly outraged that the assassin had already slit a man's throat and reminded him exactly what such actions did to his reputation. Demon, after hearing Zelda's story, showed no remorse for anything. Indeed, if the princess had not stopped him he would left immediately to slit a couple more throats, including Selena's for leaving her charge vulnerable.

The assassin had paced to and fro in front of Zelda, ranting about the nuances of being a bodyguard and stomping the spring grass back into the earth. After a while the torrent of words had faded into an occasional growl, and Zelda had chosen to pick up her sword instead of continuing their conversation. She did not want to discuss anything else, especially not their meal with Damrod. She just wanted to forget where she was and focus on something, anything, besides politics.

So she'd swatted a bee.

"Are you ready Demon?" she breathed, shifting her sword so the polished tip flashed in the sunlight. "Careful, I'm stronger than I look."

Demon actually grinned. The tension seemed to fade from his shoulders as he smoothly lifted his weapon from the ground. "I beg for your mercy princess."

He was a different man once again. Baffled as always by the transition, Zelda resigned herself to enjoying the hero while she could, until the darkness reclaimed him. Then her thoughts turned to more practical things and she looked, puzzled, to her feet.

"Is this how I should stand?"

"More or less." The assassin sized her up. "You have your balance and that is enough for now. Tell me, how does it feel to hold a sword?"

Zelda shifted her weight uncertainly. "Heavy…and dangerous. I don't want to kill anything."

Two steps closer, Demon scrutinized her from behind his squint. "Except for bees."

"The bee will survive." The princess retorted as her face turned the pale pink of a flower farther down the path. She swung her sword menacingly towards the assassin. "Unlike you."

"It's not a club to beat your opponents head in," snorted Demon, "it is a blade and you must wield it as such." He closed the remaining distance between them effortlessly and placed his sword against Zelda's. "Strike me princess."

So she did.

Or at least tried to.

At first she was tentative, the heavy weapon unfamiliar in her hands, but then Zelda began to trust both her own strength and the assassin's ability to defend himself. Swinging hard, yet awkwardly, she struggled to push herself to faster speeds, while trying to imitate the sword strokes she had seen others perform. The difficulty immediately surprised her. Each swing threatened to spin her like a top, and the exertion had her gasping for breath within a dozen blows. Somewhat discouraged by the fact that Demon had blocked each of her attacks perfectly, the princess gave up.

"I can't." she said.

"Try harder."

So she did.

This time she moved slower, her strikes more deliberate as she tried to find a weakness in the assassin's defenses. She attacked high, swinging her sword from behind her head, then dropped to her knee to swipe at his ankles. She swung hard, allowing her movement to carry her in a circle and into a second attack. She aimed down, up, right, left, even feinted a slice that turned into a stab, and yet nothing worked. Demon did not even bother blocking; he just drifted between blows, insubstantial as a ghost, eyes taunting the princess.

Once again, Zelda let her sword point drop to the earth. "I can't hit you!" She complained as she gasped for breath. "It's like fighting wind."

Demon smiled. "Try harder."

Bouncing her sword against the ground, Zelda scowled rebelliously. "Are you mocking me assassin? How am I to learn to fight if you teach me nothing but expect everything?

He shrugged. "You are learning."

"No, I'm embarrassing myself!" A passing butterfly was forced to veer out of range as Zelda swatted at it in frustration. "Start by teaching me something simple."

The assassin studied her. "Is that an order princess?"

She glared at him wordlessly, managing to convey disgust even as she used her hand to wipe a bead of sweat from her forehead. Her eyes bored into Demon like an auger through wood, and yet to no effect. Stymied, she lunged forward into a sudden stab.

The assassin twisted sinuously away, so impossibly smooth that Zelda could have cried with envy. The stab went wide, as did her next attack and her next, until, chest heaving, she collapsed onto the grass.

"Just kill me already," she huffed.

Nevertheless, when Demon extended a hand she took it, and let him pull her gently upright. He tapped her sword with his own, smiling while he did so.

"Try harder."

So she did.

This time she didn't bother glaring, but lunged to the attack. Her first stroke cracked against Demon's guard with a force that vibrated painfully in her hands, yet Zelda forced herself to keep swinging. Her second stroke was harder than the first, and tears sprang unbidden to her eyes as she pulled the sword back for a third. She inwardly cursed her stupid companion and his stupid games, along with her stupid whim to learn the sword in the first place. All she needed was one hit, and she'd give Demon a bruise to remember her by. Just one hit…

Her sword slammed into flesh, pulping the assassin's side with all the force of Zelda's frustration. His sword tumbled to the ground and he hissed quietly between clenched teeth. The princess was immediately repentant.

"Oh Gods! I'm sorry!" She began, dropping her own sword as if it were a venomous snake. "I never…why didn't you block?"

Demon relaxed as he slowly gained control over the pain. "Why are you sorry princess?" he asked.

Once again, only the sound of droning insects could be heard as Zelda wavered between sympathy and anger. "Of course I'm sorry!" She replied, anger winning out, "I hit you with a bloody sword!"

"How do you expect to kill an enemy otherwise?"

"But you're not my enemy!"

"Yet you've been trying to hit me since this lesson began. You're only sorry now that you've succeeded."

Zelda frowned. "That bruise won't fade for weeks assassin. I wish I'd never suggested this."

Something flashed in Demons eyes, something alien amongst the pastoral scene around him. "I've described war to you before princess. Do you remember?"

"I do." She whispered, shivering at the memories of wolfos carcasses and dripping blood.

"Then you already know part of what I am teaching you. The purpose of a weapon is to kill an opponent, whether man, woman, monster, or," he hesitated, "friend. Every stroke, every moment, you are trying to strike, to destroy the enemy. You must understand this."

Zelda looked gingerly down to her discarded weapon, and felt tendrils of doubt creep around her heart. The assassin continued speaking, his grating voice filling the clearing.

"This is the consequence of the path you have chosen, the consequence to taking up a weapon, even in your own defense." He paused, his jaw tightening. "I…was mistaken to buy you that sword princess. I do not wish to see your hands bloodied by sins of my making."

They stared at each other then, the princess and the assassin, eyes fighting a battle that neither would acknowledge. Golden heat beat down upon them in the timeless fashion of late afternoons and eternal rhythms. Their weapons lay discarded in the long grass.

"You cannot protect me forever." the soft words were spoken as Zelda made her way across the separating distance and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Already I have seen more than you know."

"You've never killed a man princess."

"Hopefully I never will. But there are still moblins and darknuts enough in this land to justify these lessons."

Demon paused, as if waiting for the princess to change her mind. "If it is your will," he finally acquiesced.

"Thank you."

The assassin looked at her. "You may wish to remove your hand. Someone is approaching."

Startled, Zelda pulled back and studied the offending limb curiously. She didn't remember touching his shoulder in the first place and was embarrassed that she'd left her hand there so long. The feeling of his coat tingled her fingertips as she pulled them away. It was a strange sensation, and yet hauntingly familiar. A remnant of some memory the princess had long forgotten.

"Ah-ha!"

Garret's grin was brilliant as he swept out of a narrow passage and into the clearing. His eyes sparkled and he flipped the wooden sword he carried from hand to hand. "There you are! But you've both dropped your swords! What a strange way to fight!"

Zelda coloured slightly as Garret's jest struck home. "I was just giving the Lord Demon a moment to recover," she hastily explained, immediately realizing her mistake. She was only fuelling Garret's mirth and embarrassing Demon.

But the prince was a wiser man than some of his comments suggested. He passed on the opportunity and instead turned to more important things. "I am sorry for my lateness. My father surprised me with a summons after the meal, and there was much he wanted to discuss."

At the mention of the king, Zelda stiffened. "About my proposal?"

"You have been granted an audience in seven days princess!" Garret's voice was jubilant. "It is a good sign! Seven is a holy number in Termina!"

"Still," Zelda replied, "much can happen in seven days. It is a longer wait than I had hoped for."

"It is the best that can be done. Besides, it gives you time to gain some influence among the nobles. Attend their feasts, debate them personally, and," He pointed to Demon. "Don't bring him. Diplomacy is not your strength my friend."

The assassin snorted. "I told you that this morning, but you would not listen."

"I apologize wholeheartedly and unabashedly," the prince replied, and bowed. "But now to more trivial things. How is the lesson progressing?"

Zelda glanced at Demon as he glanced at her. Their gazes met, both conveying an unwillingness to answer Garret's question.

"Well." The princess finally offered.

The Terminian's eyes flashed excitement. "Good! Come then princess and show me what you've learned!" His sword did a blindingly fast rotation through a series of strikes before pointing itself at Zelda.

"I apologize," she deferred, "but I have no wish to hurt you."

Garret's eyebrows shot up, while Demon's face showed a slight smile. The prince spoke first. "If there was a woman alive who has the determination to beat me it would be you princess. But do you truly believe yourself ready with only one afternoon's training?"

"She has already taught me a lesson." The assassin said as he rubbed his side gingerly.

Laughing, the prince turned towards him. "Then perhaps I should start with a less skilled opponent. Do you accept my challenge Lord Demon?"

"Do I have your permission princess?" The assassin asked.

Zelda almost rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming, even if the two men didn't. Picking up her sword she retreated to a safe distance. "Don't hurt each other. I'd hate to have to explain it to the palace healers."

The intensity within the clearing immediately rose tenfold as Demon lifted his sword from the ground and pointed it at Garret. The grin slipped off the prince's face, and he narrowed his eyes in concentration. "I hear you are unbeatable with your knives," he murmered, "but what of the sword? Have you mastered that also?"

From her place as a spectator, Zelda pressed her lips into a thin line. She had not even thought to question Demon's skill with a sword, assuming that he, like the legendary Hero, would be a natural blademaster. A surge of worry ran through her, and she was immediately surprised at the depth of her emotion. The princess truly wanted Demon to win this contest and avoid the humiliation of defeat. Garret possessed a kingdom, charisma, and the love of his nation. All Demon had was his ability to fight. If he were to concede even that…

Only Zelda saw the black-gloved hand tighten; only she recognized the unnatural stillness before the storm. Cold eyes and colder logic. A thousand strikes visualized against a thousand counters. And suddenly she knew that Garret didn't stand a chance. He faced a being, a force, beyond his power.

Garret attacked then, his form rigid with perfect training and military precision. A diagonal slice twisted into a vertical cut that skittered along Demon's blade, seeking at every chance to slip inwards around the block and into his body. A crushing overhead blow was also caught and deflected, but not before it became a stab. Dropping to his knees, the prince thrust upward under Demon's guard with what should have been a killing blow.

The assassin caught it between his sword and his body, wrenching it from Garret's hands with a vicious sideways twist. Dumbfounded and weaponless, the prince stepped back out of range.

"That move is impossible with a real blade," accused Garret.

"Perhaps." Demon admitted as he threw the wooden sword back to the prince. "But we aren't using real blades.

"But if we were?" Garret's question was innocent enough, but something had kindled in his eyes that belied the humour.

Demon grinned. "You'd be dead."

Barking a short laugh, the prince attacked again. His strokes were heavier this time, the caution gone from them. Suddenly he began switching hands, using the differing angles of each blow to force Demon into a complicated series of blocks. Zelda was shocked at how easily he fought with both right and left hand, and found herself unable to tell which one he favoured. A worm of doubt crept through her stomach as the assassin was pushed back one step and then another. She stiffened as a blade was knocked into the air and across the clearing, until she realized it was Garret's.

"Once again, you die." Demon rasped. He glanced at Zelda, noted the subtle shake of her head, and ignored it.

Silently, Garret walked the distance to his blade and retrieved it. When he turned to Demon, his normally laughing face was dark. "I have not lost three matches in a row since I was eighteen summers old. Be warned."

He was upon the assassin before any response could be made, trying to force a mistake through the speed of his charge. Demon blocked once, twice, sliding to the side as he did so. Then Garret winced as a blow connected solidly with his back.

The prince turned with a wild swing that Demon barely ducked. "That was a mortal blow!" The assassin hissed, confused. "This match is over!"

"It will be over when I say so." The prince's voice was quiet compared with the clashing of the wooden swords, but the enmity was unmistakeable.

"STOP!"

Both opponents froze, Zelda's voice accomplished what reason could not. The princess marched between the two men and yanked the two weapons from their hands. "Before you kill each other!" She scolded.

There was a tense moment, and then Demon relaxed. Garret blinked at him confusedly until some of the humanity returned to his gaze, and then he too backed down. Both Hylians stared at him apprehensively.

"I..." he muttered, unable to meet their eyes. "I have often been warned of my temper. You are the better swordsman Demon, I admit it."

"You are still a great fighter." The assassin's voice was a neutral. "Perhaps the best in your country."

Garret grimaced. "So I have often boasted. My pride will be the end of me." He raised his eyes to Zelda and she hesitantly returned his sword. The prince bowed lowed. "I am sorry to have ruined your lesson. I…I beg your leave."

He turned and was about to flee, when Zelda's voice stopped him. "Garret," she offered, "thank you for arranging an audience."

Something softened in Garret's posture as he looked back over his shoulder towards the two companions, then he was gone.

Groaning, Zelda turned to Demon and whacked him on the shoulder with a sword. "Do you always have to win?"

Demon deftly blocked the second blow and plucked the weapon from her hands. "Yes," he answered.

"Except against me."

'I am your teacher, not your opponent."

Zelda studied him for a moment as a butterfly fluttered obliviously between them. "Why do you no longer fight with a sword?"

The assassin's faced twitched, and Zelda could tell that he wanted to say something, but had stopped himself at the last moment. Instead he too walked away, his black torso filling the princess's gaze until it turned a corner into the garden and disappeared.

For her part, Zelda barely felt herself sink to the ground, or curl her arms around her knees in weary resignation. Emotions welled up within her, the same ones fuelling her bitterness, but she had nothing left to say.

And no one left to say it to.

ooo

Author's Note:

See, Demon is funny... just in his own, twisted sadistic way. I personally feel sorry for him though, because I (like all of you) can identify. It's like the first time you're invited over to your new girlfriend/boyfriend's house for dinner, and they have all these rituals, all these private jokes, that you know nothing about. All you know is that you REALLY want to impress them, and yet somehow you always manage to screw up. :-)

Admittedly, if some girl tried serving me a live squid in a bowl, I wouldn't be too impressed either.

But on to more important things, such as answers to some of the strange questions/comments that got into the reviews for last chapter...

To Mr. Hamster: I'm sorry if you find Forgotten Demons deeply depressing, but I believe I have a solution. As I understand it they have these pills now that one can take, that make one very happy, all the time. Although I personally would not take one before driving anywhere.

To Syzeria: I will swear no such thing. :-) That's not a promise I can keep.

To AStory2Tell: The Statue of the Maiden was not described in detail for a very good reason that I'm having a hard time remembering. I know it was a good reason...I just can't remember. I do know it's the sort of statue that would make most mother's cover their children's eyes, but I don't really want to go into more detail than that. It just makes the Moonlord that much more of a disgusting person in my opinion.

To numerous readers: I was joking when I asked if anyone wanted to convert to Maidenism. I think you all got this, but I just want to stress that there are MUCH BETTER alternatives.

Especially considering that I made the religion up, and I (unfortunately) am neither infallible nor omnipotent.

I would humbly remind that, hypocrite though I might be, I love getting reviews. The more the better as far as I'm concerned, especially considering that the response to last chapter was rather disappointing. I will point out that some of you (Cimar I'm talking to you) have made suggestions that have changed segments of this story, and been a great help to my writing. So yeah, please take the time to review if you can, it makes my life as a fanfiction writer a little more bearable.

Also, if there are any of you out there who have a story of your own you'd like me to read, please send me a PM or something. I'm always interested in appreciating the creative energies of other people on this site, and their own unique perspectives on good storytelling.

Thank you once again,

Celeborn00

With much appreciation to The Wolfess for stepping in as a pinch-hitter for my beta.


	63. Chapter 63

_On another world by another star_

_At another place in time_

_In another state of consciousness_

_In another state of mind_

_In another lonely universe_

_We're laying side by side_

_Where no one's hurt and no one's cursed_

_And no one has to hide._

_And everything is almost perfect_

_Everything is almost right_

_There are never any conflicts_

_There are never any fights_

"Perfect" by Depeche Mode

Chapter 63

The days passed quickly, blurring together in a constant stream of audiences, luncheons, and debates. The Hidden Palace positively boiled with intrigues, all centered around Zelda and her elegant rhetoric. Each day the news of more moblin attacks in the west fuelled her arguments, and each night the Moonlord called the faithful together to refute her ideas. They achieved a balance, the clashing of equal and opposite forces not satisfied with the situation, but needing some new leverage to break the stalemate. Each side believed itself to be holding the higher card, but neither had yet seen fit to play it.

In the garden, the plants grew at extraordinary rates, surpassed only by the rumours growing in the servant 's quarter. Everything-the plants, the insects, the city, the army, the nobles, and the priests—exploded into life with all the violence of long repression. Spontaneous brawls and celebrations ignited across Clocktown with shocking regularity, and more couples became engaged in five days of spring than during the entire winter. A new era seemed to have begun in the lives of the townsfolk, their relentless excitement tempered only by the sudden rumours of war springing from the palace. _Sharpen your swords,_ it was whispered in the streets,_ for the enemy is coming. _

And indeed, armies were moving. Rumours came of unrest in Aratia, of isolated rebellions led by minor lords. From Hyrule a steady stream of refugees poured into Termina, their terrified voices describing creatures of legend, their limbs bearing the scars of teeth and claws. They spoke of dark nights and moonless skies, of children disappearing from their beds, and howling voices upon the wind. Their eyes reflected the memory of evil and their souls were scarred by the touch of death.

Farther away still, the warriors of distant countries fought and died on the nameless fields of ancient lands. Battles were joined and atrocities committed, as men trampled the blood of their fellows into the earth, and sated their thirsty swords with crimson. The world twisted, roiled, frothed and foamed as the tides of destiny came full circle and realities unraveled into the void. From dust, from the womb of the Goddesses they had sprung so long before, and to dust they began to return as the Cycle itself wobbled on its axis.

But most, of course, knew none of this, and saw only the new Spring and the return of light to the world. Hope unlooked for had sprung from the maw of the storm, and this good fortune seemed to allay fears rather than increase them. Spring had overcome winter, most thought, so how could good not overcome evil?

So were the masses deluded.

Zelda of course knew better, but until she met with the king her warnings were useless. She spent her free moments playing at the dice games of the Valkyries or replying to the many notes delivered to her door. Most of the notes were veiled queries of her intentions by council-members, but some, the minority, were on more interesting topics. One letter informed her that Kashi and Katie had arrived in the city with Omar in tow, another was from a Hylian refugee denouncing the princess as an imposter. The Lord Diego sent a series of rather tedious love ballads, but he would have been disappointed in their effect upon the princess. She burned them all unopened.

After the disaster of the first session, Zelda was surprised when Demon continued her lessons in the sword. Somehow she always was able to have part of the afternoon free and she came to expect the quiet knock on her door that announced the assassin's arrival. He never spoke much during their sessions, but the princess was glad for his companionship just the same. Despite their differences, they understood one another, and that understanding eased the mutual burden of their destiny.

Usually Garret joined them for part of the lesson, but he never again brought his own sword. Sometimes his jokes left Zelda helpless with laughter, sometimes they prodded her to the edge of anger, but the princess enjoyed his visits anyway. She hoped Garret was forgetting his embarrassment at Demon's hands, and most of the time the signs were positive. The prince did seem to have to have accepted defeat, but once or twice Zelda observed him watching Demon with a strange intensity. His eyes would narrow as the assassin performed a technique, as if studying the man for some weakness that would prove him vulnerable.

The prince was not the only one watching Demon. The other nobles considered the assassin with less envy and more fear, their whispers washing around him like waves upon an island. The crowds parted before him wherever he went, and although the awe was lessened by the stories of the_ cephus_ incident, his anger quickly became legendary. The assassin was a hawk among swans, and his isolation was a constant worry to the princess. It reinforced everything she was trying to make Demon forget. It gave him a reason to remember his rage. It gave him a reason to feed his hate.

000

The Milk Bar was a seething, swirling mass of humanity. Distinct smells mingled in the air, some wholesome, others less so. Every corner, stool, and booth was packed with customers.

There was an amazing variety of people; gathered together from the corners, the cellars, the gutters and the palaces of Clocktown. There were eyes of every colour, skin of every shade, clothing that ranged from official robes to ragged cloaks. Everywhere the contrasts highlighted the extremes, and nowhere was this more true than in the centre of the room where a great bear of a man sang boisterously while a much smaller man danced on a table.

For the moment, Kashi and Omar were having an outrageously good time, although both would pay a heavy price in the morning. Kashi sang a lively sailing song, while Omar twitched wildly in mockery of the dancing arts. He looked like a man with a live skulltula stuck in his smallclothes, but was far too drunk to care.

Kashi clapped his hands as his deep bass voice struggled against the surrounding turmoil.

"I knew a girl back in my town,

With eyes of blue and face burnt brown.

The prettiest lass I ever did see,

Better than any nobility!

We pledged our love on a summer morn,

Before I left to sail the world.

She gave me a kiss, a kiss to keep,

And at my feet the girl did weep!"

Some of the onlookers were surprised at Kashi's talent. Although his voice was rough, he sang with a passion that belied his appearance, a passion which quickly won over the rest of the bar. Someone began clapping a faster rhythm and soon many hands joined in.

Katie wove her way over to their table, carefully clutching three full tankards. The next verse was hers, time-honoured traditions demanded it be sung by a woman.

"Don't leave me, love, with the rising sun,

For the world will turn and time will run.

The sun will set into the sea,

And she will bear you far from me!"

Laughing, Kashi gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then jumped up onto the table next to Omar. It groaned with every tap of his foot, and yet he sang with such power that no one noticed.

"But I was young and so was she,

I turned a deaf ear to her plea,

But once I looked back to the land,

To see my lass weep on the sand!

It's been ten years since I saw that shore,

My town is gone, 'tis no more,

My home is dust, only sand remains,

And stars and sky and sea and waves!"

The clapping stopped, Omar twitched to a halt, and heads leaned in expectantly. Kashi and Katie's voice melded together as the relentless beat faded away. She sang melody while the innkeeper harmonized.

"Don't leave me, love, with the rising sun,

For the world will turn and time will run.

The sun will set into the sea,

And she will bear you far from me!

I left you, love, with the rising sun

For the world has turned and time has run

The sun has set into the sea,

And ever I sail in search of thee."

The crowd roared. Tankards were lifted in praise and several rupees were tossed upon the center table, Various individuals sauntered up to introduce themselves, or inquire as to the state of Omar's mental health or Katie's marital status. They were swiftly rebuffed, but most left something upon the table anyway, to add to the growing pile.

The procession of well-wishers continued for a while, until one last man slid into the fourth chair at their table. He was neatly shaven, and bore himself with a precision that a sober Omar would have recognized as military. His dark blue cloak and tunic were unremarkable except for a small half-moon patch on the shoulder.

"My friends," he began, "it is an honour."

Omar was humming to himself obliviously, and so it was left to Kashi to respond. He blinked at the newcomer as his eyes strained to focus.

"I ain't your friend," he slurred.

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps not."

"But you said you were." Katie argued, confusion fighting its way through the alcohol.

"Are you drunk?" The man countered.

Katie turned to Kashi and giggled. "He wants to know if I'm drunk. Am I drunk?"

"Completely." The innkeeper gazed lovingly into her eyes.

She turned back to the stranger. "Very drunk," she said.

"Is he drunk?" The man pointed to Omar.

The soldier in question smiled absently. Omar was three tankards closer to the Sacred Realm than anyone else in the Milk Bar, and his wits, mind, and common sense had long before deserted him.

"Ask him yourself!" Kashi grumbled.

"Perhaps later," the stranger decided. "When he's capable of answering. Myself, I've never been drunk."

There was an awkward pause as he stared at Kashi who stared moodily back. Katie picked up a rupee and flicked it into the air.

"Mask," the stranger breathed, and indeed it landed with an engraving of a mask facing up. He shifted uneasily. "I am looking for an innkeeper who travelled with the princess of Hyrule. I will pay for information."

"How much?" Katie asked as her eyes narrowed.

The man took a bulging purse from beneath his coat and handed it to the girl for inspection. She opened it carefully and let her gaze wander over the currency within, her eyes growing wider with each moment. Then she smiled broadly at the stranger and the purse disappeared.

"The Maiden smiles on you," she said, nodding at Kashi. "You've found your innkeeper."

"Excellent!" The emotion in the man's voice was a mixture of many things, part anticipation, part fear, part something else. He absently rubbed the patch on his shoulder, glanced at Omar, and then turned to face Kashi.

"I am Rash, of the house Alcarin. I give you my name in trust, so that you might tell me truth in return." He paused and waited for Kashi to reply with the necessary formalities.

The innkeeper nodded solemnly and his brow furrowed as if he was considering his words. After much deliberation, he opened his mouth.

"Don't leave me, love, with the rising sun," he sang softly.

A lesser man would have given up and left, but Rash would not be so easily distracted. "There was another who travelled with the princess," he began, "a man named Demon." Both of his listeners shivered at that name, and even Omar looked alarmed. "It is said he is a Lord, but the Hylian refugees do not recognize the title, and I find no record of his family in the histories."

Kashi had stopped singing, his eyes were locked on Rash. "What about the Demon?"

"Who is he?"

"Nightmares and ghost stories, lots of knives and a bad temper," Kashi grumbled.

"A madman in a cape," Katie added.

"But where is he from?" Rash asked.

Katie looked at Kashi, who whispered something under his breath. She shrugged helplessly at the stranger.

Rash's hands were suddenly on the table, as if trying to dig their way into the grain. "Is he Aratian?"

The innkeeper started, a movement that was not lost on Rash. The young noble's eyes bored their way into Kashi's head. "Is he Aratian?" He asked again.

His question seemed to have caught Katie's interest, for she also turned inquisitively towards the innkeeper.

Kashi focused his blood-shot gaze somewhere between them in a position of stubborn resistance. "Maybe."

"Is he or is he not?"

"What is it to you?"

Rash leaned forward so his words would not carry farther than their table. "There was an Aratian gladiator called the Demon," he muttered. "A legend in the arenas. Is this the same man?"

"The sun has set into the sea," Kashi mused. He refused to meet the eyes of either party.

"You know!" accused Rash as he jumped to his feet. "By the Maiden! Tell me, is he the Demon! I order you!"

The lamplight played across Kashi's features in a dancing pattern which made his expression difficult to read. For a moment he and Rash were a frozen image, one man frenzied and angry, the other uneasily drunk. "It was another life," he warned the noble in a confiding slur, "he is a different man."

The noble shook his head vehemently. "Blood never fades." He took another heavy purse from beneath his cloak and tossed it on the table. "My thanks. Farewell."

Rash was gone as quickly as he had come, in a swirl of cloth and purpose. Kashi watched him go until a sudden twitch from Omar made him jump. The captain blinked blearily and stretched his arms above his head, displaying his ale-stained sleeves for the entire bar to see.

"You know," he pronounced carefully to Kashi, picking each syllable as if each were a struggle in itself. "You have beautiful eyes."

000

It was late, perhaps midnight, and yet the three gamblers showed no sign of ending their game. They had been dicing since sundown, and had the intention of continuing until sunrise. Or at least Leon did. The other two couldn't have cared less, even though they were the ones winning most of the rounds.

Russ flicked a blue rupee into the center of the table, watching greed spark in his partner's eyes. He had often before taken advantage of Leon, for the man's insatiable love of gambling was a bad pairing for his complete lack of skill. "I'll give you five to one," he said.

Leon's joy was obvious. "Five to one! That's-" he did some quick addition, "twenty-five rupees. I accept!" He patted down his emptied pockets, searching for some last cache to draw from. It was a while before he found his own blue gem to slide across the table.

"Only if you win," Russ corrected him.

The other soldier laughed. "My luck will change eventually, it must. No man alive is always unlucky!"

Both men turned to the third player, waiting for him to bet. They had asked him to join the game on Leon's whim, and had been surprised when he accepted. Neither would have guessed that Zelda's enigmatic bodyguard was a gambler.

Demon picked a blue rupee from the small pile before him and tossed it to join the others. "Ten to one," he rasped.

Russ raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. Leon, on the other hand, positively jumped from his chair. "Roll the dice!" he shouted.

Each man reached for the clay cup to his left and gave it a good shake. A tingle of expectation vibrated in the air as the sound of colliding dice filled the room. Leon closed his eyes and mouthed a short prayer, although even he doubted the goddess was interested in dice games.

Three cups slammed to the table.

"Devils and dukes"

"Stalfos knuckles."

"Fate's ladder."

The two soldiers stared at Demon. "Fate's ladder?" Leon asked incredulously. "I've not heard that called since I was a child. Are you sure?"

Demon's forbidding gaze won the argument before it started. "Do you object?"

"No." Russ sighed "Fate's ladder it is. Lowest count wins."

They removed the cups, and began scrutinizing the mass of symbols before them. Russ's expression went from dejection to triumph in an instant.

"Six twos and a half moon!" he shouted.

Demon eyed his own throw impassively. It was more than double the amount Russ had named, and one of the highest he had thrown all night. He began counting rupees from his pile.

"I…" A whisper seeped through a pause in Russ's jubilation and both he and Demon turned to Leon. The younger man had gone white, and was staring at his dice as if he thought they might leap up and bite him. "I…"

Before him lay a perfect roll, seven sunbursts scattered across the tabletop. It was the worst score possible, an instant loss in any other game. But in Fate's Ladder the worst score won the roll.

"I won," Leon finished. He whooped and tossed his dice cup in the air; it shattered when he neglected to catch it. "But I never win!" Staring suspiciously at Demon he rolled a die between his fingers. "Have the stars become unaligned, my lord? Or did you somehow switch my dice with your own?"

"It was Fate's ladder," Russ interrupted him, "your roll was terrible."

"Still."

"Are you accusing me of cheating?" Demon paused, his fistful of rupees hovering in midair.

Leon and Russ exchanged looks. "No," they said in unison.

The assassin's eyes narrowed. "I didn't think so."

He counted forty-five rupees from his pile and shoved them towards Leon, who gazed at the money unbelievingly. The captain gingerly reached out a hand to collect his winning, but, just as he did so, a harsh bang on the door made him jump. "I know I'm not supposed to win!" he shouted towards the entrance. "It won't happen again!"

There was a pause, presumably the time it took for the unseen visitor to process Leon's words and realize they were nonsense. The door opened in a swift movement that sent the three gamblers scrambling for weapons, and a crowd of men rushed into the room.

Leon swore, there was a scuffle of boots, and his half-drawn sword was ripped from his hands. Russ stumbled backwards as a man dressed in palace finery shoved him towards a wall. Within moments the chamber had become a storm of activity, a tornado rotating around the calm centre which was Demon.

The assassin had drawn his knives, but he made no move towards the assailants who beset the two soldiers, and they made no move towards him. He watched as Russ and Leon were disarmed and ushered unceremoniously to stand at his side. The centurion was bleeding from a shallow scratch, while Leon was unharmed in everything but his pride.

A sea of hostile faces spread out around the room and watched the confusion of their prey turn to anger. Rupees and dice lay scattered across the floor like shells on a beach, their importance forgotten as the three gamblers calculated their new odds.

"Well met, Demon," a man announced, stepping forward from the crowd. "Or do you prefer Butcher?"

He was tall, with a narrow face and a blue cloak. Obviously a noble, although the cut of his coat was not as fine as it could have been. His most prominent features, his eyes, flashed with murder.

"Yes, I know who you are. Indeed, I'm amazed I did not suspect it before." The man shuddered and clenched his fist at his sides.

Russ touched his cut cheek gingerly. "What in the Goddess-cursed twilight-" he began, but was immediately cut off.

"Silence!" the noble roared. "You fools have no idea who this man is! What he has done!" He grabbed their confiscated swords from one of his companions and tossed them, clattering, into the hallway. "Get out. You are the prince's men, and this does not concern you."

Leon stepped forward angrily. "You are breaking royal law!" He was about to say more when Russ grabbed his shoulder. The centurion led him carefully from the room, and closed the door behind them.

The chamber seemed to grow smaller in their absence, the circle of men around Demon edging inward. The assassin's knives were still in his hands, but now some of the others drew weapons as well. Their spokesman stepped closer and placed his hand on his sword-hilt.

"Perhaps you do not know why we have come. Perhaps you thought you escaped when you left Aratia. But I warn you, Butcher," he sneered and spat upon the ground, "blood never fades."

He drew his sword, the shallow scrape of the scabbard seeming to go on forever in the tense air. "I am the Lord Rash Alcarin. I had a brother once, until you murdered him. Butchered him in the arena." Rash pointed at the men around him, one at a time. "Just as you killed _his_ brother! _His_ son! _His_ father! _His_ cousin! The blood of all our families is upon your hands Butcher!"

"If I am indeed the Butcher." Demon said softly.

The noble glared at him. "There is no doubt! One of Lady Vaine's bodyguards recognized you! Besides, even those drunken swine you travelled with admit it!"

Demon's eyes narrowed. "Is that what you call the princess of Hyrule?"

"Of course not! I still have my honour! I speak of a man named Kashi."

Silently, the assassin pondered this new revelation, unsure what it meant.

"You must be the Butcher! You match the description, you wear the same colour, you even bear his weapons!" Rash continued his rant. "You murdered my brother!

Demon's gaze flicked around the room. "The men who fought in the arenas knew the risks."

"The risks?" Vash scoffed. "Defeated nobles were to be ransomed. That was the agreement! A sum of two hundred rupees was paid to the victor, and both were free to fight again! But you!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Demon, "You ignored everything!

"There were reasons." The assassin muttered.

"No reasons could justify such an atrocity!"

There was silence for a moment before Demon responded. "Tell me Vash," he replied as sparks kindled in his eyes. "If I had lost to your brother, would I also have been ransomed?"

Vash hesitated as he considered the assassin's words, but only for a moment. "You are no noble," he spat, "my brother would have cut you down like a dog!"

"Exactly." The corner of the assassin's mouth twitched, and the two frail lamps which lit the room suddenly guttered. "Yet you accuse me of murder. There are many Terminians in the arenas, are they murderers as well?" He met Vash's gaze with red-tinged eyes, and the man was forced to look away. When the assassin spoke again, it was almost a hiss. "How many fights did your brother win before he challenged me?"

The noble grimaced, but the rage etched in his face did not fade. "My brother was forced to fight you by the Aratians. They promised him safe passage home if he won."

"Maybe," Demon admitted. "Maybe not. One hundred thousand rupees was to be given to the man who killed me. Perhaps this tempted your brother?" He turned to the next man. "Or your son? Or your father? The chance to kill one man and make their fortune. Even if they lost the first time, two hundred rupees would buy them a second chance!"

"I will not listen to this!" Vash roared. "I will not let you slander my brother!"

"So instead you slander me." Demon growled back.

The noble almost quivered with rage, his sword-point wavering with the strength of his emotion. "We will settle this." Ripping a knife from a sheath on his thigh he threw it to the floor at Demon's feet. "My brother was a great man, and he will be remembered as such."

The assassin gazed down at the dagger and some of the embers within him flickered out. "You wish to fight me," he stated calmly.

Vash nodded determinedly. "Tomorrow we will fight in the square before the Clock, a duel just like in the arenas. There will be no ransoms, no lies." He paused. "I will kill you Butcher, the Maiden shall give me victory."

"And what if you are the one who falls?" Demon asked.

Another man stepped forward. "Then I will take his place."

The muttered words were repeated by each of the score of men in the room. Some accompanied them with oaths, while others traced a crescent moon on their chests. The pain of their respective losses fueled their determination, and their hatred.

Demon sighed with exasperation. "I did not ask to be what I am," he said to the crowd, "and there is little of my past that does not haunt me. Tell me Vash, what if all of you die tomorrow and only I remain? It will not be the first time I have piled corpse upon corpse."

Vash raised his chin and met Demon glare for glare, his body rigid with conviction. "Then others will rise up to take our place. You cannot escape your past Butcher. Blood…never…fades."

He turned and swept through the door, motioning his followers after him. Some were reluctant, as if they had expected to fight Demon right there in his room, but all eventually followed. Within moments only the dagger at the assassin's feet remained to mark their visit.

He knelt to examine it as the sound of boots echoed down the hallway, mixed with shouted orders and the metallic clank of armor. It was a crude, yet simple design, an obsidian blade mounted to a wooden handle. Inscribed upon one face of the blade were four words that the assassin spoke softly to himself as Russ and Leon rushed into the room.

"The Maiden shall decide."

Other soldiers appeared in the doorway, their confused glances sweeping around the room and then focusing on their two superiors. For a moment Russ and Leon were just as perplexed, but then they saw the dagger.

"He challenged you to a duel?" Leon asked incredulously. "Why?"

Demon shrugged. "I made a grave mistake," he said as he tested the edge of the blade, "I let you win at dice." The assassin slammed his knives back into their sheaths, knowing, even then, that his world was unraveling around him.

000

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Garret raised his fist once more, and narrowly avoided slamming it into Selena's face as she opened the door. Despite the extremely late hour he was still dressed in elaborate finery, having had no time during the evening to change or even think about his apparel. His breath came in ragged gasps, and the urgency in his eyes almost made the Valkyrie reach for her weapon.

"The princess," he gasped, "I must speak with her!"

"My prince!" Selena looked a little shocked, and she ran a hand self-consciously through her hair. "I..the princess is in bed."

"Then wake her!" the prince ordered.

The Valkyrie shook her head as some of her characteristic stubbornness returned. "That would be highly inappropriate. Even a prince can't simply barge into a woman's chamber and demand an audience. Especially in the middle of the night!"

"I warn you woman," Garret growled, "this matter is more important than propriety. Stop squawking and wake Zelda or I'll do it myself!"

He would have continued, but Selena slammed the door shut and clicked the bolt into place. "You will wait outside my prince." The warning in her voice was muffled by the heavy wood of the door. "I will go ask the princess if she will see you."

"But-"

"Don't squawk my prince," Vaine chided him. "It only wastes time."

Garret sighed and began pacing up and down the hallway, kicking at the tile with each step. The tension in his person only seemed to grow as the moments passed and Zelda did not appear. He was about to begin pounding on the door again when the squeak of the bolt made him start.

The door swung slowly inwards to reveal a very sleepy princess. Wrapped in a thick cloak, bare feet peeping from beneath the hem, she had obviously just been awakened. Her hair, its colour softened by the surrounding shadow, hung almost to her waist, and her eyes were heavy with exhaustion.

"Garret." She covered a yawn, motioning him distractedly into her antechamber. "You realize the rumours this could start among the servants, don't you?"

The prince followed her in, but declined the offered chair, instead remaining on his feet. "This is more important than the servants," he said.

"That's what men always say!"

The remark came from behind him, and Garret turned his head to find four of the Valkyries lined up against the back wall. They glared at him in a way that reminded him of his hunting dogs staring at a rabbit. Hastily, he turned back to Zelda.

"What has happened?" the princess asked. She blinked twice and brushed a strand of hair from her face, causing others to take its place.

"The Lord Demon. He…" Garret paused. "Oh Goddesses princess, did you not know?"

He noticed that her eyes widened, but there was only confusion in their depths. "Know what?" she asked.

The prince stared at her. "You must know. The Moonlord was right, princess! That man Demon is a curse to the ground he treads upon! He should never have come here!"

Instead of meeting his eyes Zelda looked to the Valkyries behind him and gave a small motion. It was only once they grudgingly left the room that she spoke. "Sit down, Garret." Zelda's tired smile could not hide the worry in her voice, "Please. You know the Moonlord tells only lies."

The prince ignored her and kept pacing. "He did not lie about this! Did you truly expect to hide an Aratian gladiator in my city? And not just any gladiator—you brought the Butcher himself! Do you know how many of my people he killed in the arenas, how much Terminian blood has soaked those knives he carries?"

He thumped his fists against the top of a chair, and slumped against its support. "That man," he said, his voice gaining momentum with every word, "has made enough widows in this land to people their own city!

The princess's shoulders fell. "I am sorry, I did not realize."

Looking relieved, Garret straightened a little. "I believe you, however unlikely it may be. He deceived me as well." Some of the emotion cleared from the prince's face as the logical part of his mind began to work. "But he must go unpunished no longer. Your reputation, and mine, hang in the balance, and I will not have us labeled traitors by the Moonlord!"

The prince paced back and forth across the room with a tumultuous, furious energy. He failed to notice the coldness that crept over Zelda's features as she sat rigid in her chair. When she finally spoke, the venom in her voice completely surprised him.

"You mistake me. I didn't know that there were Terminians in the arenas; that is a great tragedy. But I have always known about the_ Lord_ Demon's," she stressed the title, "past."

Garret stumbled in mid-stride, and turned to face Zelda. "I know this is hard to accept, princess, I myself grieved when I was first told-"

"I am not a fool Garret!" She was out of her chair, the robe falling unheeded from her shoulders to reveal the shift beneath. "I knew Demon was a gladiator. I saw him kill a woman in the arenas; my nightmares will never be rid of her face."

Eyes darkening, the prince set his jaw. "That's impossible. The Zelda I knew would never have consorted with murderers."

"Then perhaps you never knew me!" Zelda's pale hands were clenched at her sides beneath the sleeves of the robe. "Demon is no longer the man that killed your people. I trust him as much as I trust you, Garret!" Trailing off, her thoughts suddenly focused in a new direction. "Where is he?"

But the prince was still staring at her in disbelief. "You knew all along, yet you did not tell me?" He shook his head angrily and pain flashed across his features. "You have betrayed me, Zelda."

"I have done no such thing," the princess retorted, her blue eyes focused on the door. "Where is he?"

Garret shrugged resentfully, his anger rising anew. "I was unable to find the Demon. Either he has hidden himself somewhere in the palace or he has already fled away from this place. Hope that he has fled, for otherwise he will enter the Dark Realm by tomorrow evening. He has already been challenged to a score of duels."

"I would worry more for those who challenged him," muttered the princess.

"You don't understand." There was a savage gleam in Garret's eyes. "They know the Demon cannot be beaten by one man alone. There will be archers on the rooftops and assassins in the crowds. All twenty will fight him together if they have to, but they will bring him down."

Zelda's face hollowed, and at once she seemed to remember the cloak, pulling it tightly around herself. "He will expect that," she whispered, "and it will make him angry. Once he gives in to that rage…there is no man alive, whether noble, archer, or assassin, who can beat him. He will blaze a trail of corpses through your precious palace, and no one, not even you, will be able to stop him."

The prince snorted. "Impossible!"

"There is a reason he is called Demon," argued Zelda, shivering a little at the thought, "it is no mere title."

"No man is invincible princess, not even the Butcher!"

"A man doesn't need to be invincible when he bears a piece of the Triforce." Zelda replied. "Demon is the Hero of Time."

A moment of shocked silence spread across the room, engulfing both occupants in its tension. Then the prince gave a bitter laugh, and strode towards the door.

"I never thought you'd lie to me princess," he called back as he reached it, "but it seems I have misjudged you. When Demon is killed tomorrow, so too die your hopes of retaking your country. No Terminian, not even I, will help the woman who was seduced by the Butcher."

With that one terrible insult, he left the room, the stomp of his boots gradually softening as he marched away. He did not fully understand the damage he had wrought, for in his mind he was the bereaved party, but the guilt of his words would haunt him for the rest of the night.

Zelda slumped back into her chair, and was surprised to feel tears well in her eyes. She felt surreal, as if the whole conversation was a dream that would vanish at any moment. All of her hopes, all of her plans of binding Termina to her cause, had just been crushed. Flower petals under the boot of the goddesses.

The world, as she knew it, had changed once again. Zelda had gone to bed in anticipation of the coming morning, of her audience with the King of Termina. Now, only a few hours later, she could hardly bear to think about it. If Garret's words were true, then it would not be an audience as much as an interrogation. Her mind conjured an image of Demon and she cursed him unthinkingly, cursed his past and cursed the darkness that had cost him—and now her—so much. Termina would never honour the alliances now, not once the Moonlord caught wind of Demon's identity.

Zelda ran tired fingers through her hair, and caught her breath as a jolt of hatred raced in her veins. It hit her, in that moment, that without Demon she would never have been caught in such a predicament. Ever since they had arrived in Termina he had been a liability, forcing the princess to compromise her diplomacy again and again. Now he had struck her hopes a mortal blow. It was his fault that the Terminians would never give Zelda an army; it was his fault that she would never save Hyrule. The princess closed her eyes and felt two large tears course down her cheeks. She hated the assassin in that moment, yet he was all she could see.

He stared back at her from a thousand locations, a thousand angles, his eyes haunted with all the things he hinted at, but never explained. He was stoic, angry, murderous, tortured, laughing, raging, despairing, and much more. Sometimes asleep, sometimes awake, sometimes gentle, sometimes brutal, a fractured mirror reflecting a fractured soul. Zelda watched for a moment, and then sought to banish him with all the might of her sudden hate.

Yet she could not. The princess could not let the assassin die, even if she knew that part of him wanted to. Her anger withered to ash in an instant, and Zelda shivered, confused, at the unfamiliarity of the emotions within her. She shied from them, unwilling to accept what they held, and wrenched her mind onwards.

Briefly she considered searching Demon out wherever he was hiding, and then fleeing the castle together. They could return to Hyrule, raise an army among the people and drive the Aratians from the land. It was a romantic vision and for an instant hope sprung once again to her heart, but it was quickly destroyed. From the words of the refugees, Zelda knew that Hyrule was in no position to fight. Her people were scattered across many leagues and many countries, leaderless, divided, and scared.

She opened her eyes and stared despairingly at the hanging drapes and their Triforce pattern. She needed a plan, needed it now, and for all her vast diplomatic experience the answer escaped her.

_It's impossible._ The thought flashed through her mind as tears rolled unbidden down her face._ How can a Hero also be a Demon?_

_000000000000000000000_

_Author's Notes:_

Sorry it's been so long. September means school, and school means essays and creative writing assignments and other insanity. I've written some very cool short fiction, but to do so I had to drop this story for a while. This update does not mean things will improve, just that I found the breathing room to finish of what was an almost complete chapter.

People keep asking me whether Majora's Mask will show up in this story, and my answer is "no". I never finished playing Majora's Mask, and I've been playing fast and loose with plot through my entire story so far, so why would I change now? Although I'll have nods to the games throughout this story, I neither depend on it nor emulate it.

As for this chapter...

I hope the shanty isn't too laughable. I wanted to experiment with adding different elements to the story, and so, even though I believed the poem to be mediocre, I kept it in there. I found the dice game to be far more successful to my inner critic, but I welcome any of your comments.

The scene between Gabriel and Zelda I almost entirely rewrote (something i almost never do), and still am not sure about. It's a lot smoother now than the original, but still lacks something in credibility. Garrett's excitable as always and poor, poor Zelda...

Just didn't see that coming. :-)

Those of you that want more romance are just going to have to wait. They're totally incompatible right now and you guys all know it.

Until next time,

Celeborn00


	64. Chapter 64

The Christmas Special: I am breaking my own rules and updating a chapter before I have another one done, but I believe the occasion merits it. It's almost Christmas and I love this chapter with a passion, so hopefully all you readers can use this to bide the time until tomorrow morning. This chapter has it all: symbolism, foreshadowing, flashback, drama, violence, and even a little romance. Please enjoy.

-Celeborn00

Chapter 64

_Turning and turning in the widening gyre_

_The falcon cannot hear the falconer;_

_Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;_

_Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,_

From The Second Coming

A red dawn crept slowly over Clocktown, adding a touch of pink to the sandstone blocks and pillars. Shafts of morning light crisscrossed the streets and hurt the eyes of the few townsfolk already awake. It was a new morning, a new beginning, yet the sun hung like a drop of blood, low in the eastern sky.

Within the Temple of the Moon, nothing moved. All was quiet, all empty, the dry labyrinth was an open tomb foreboding the corruption to come. A puff of wind swirled coarse dust through deserted corridors and filled the etchings in the stone floor. Then it passed, and yet the silence did not return, as if the wind had been the waking breath of something greater.

Steel scratched against stone. One long drawn out pull, then quiet.

He was sitting atop his pedestal, the gleaming fingers of dawn just finding his mask as they journeyed towards the west wall. He was a misshapen mound of darkness, a tired, hunched shadow, bent with a naked sword across his knees. In his left hand he held a whetstone, and it was from the collision of these two objects, the sword and the stone, that the sound had come.

Again he slid the stone across the blade, and again, until the edge could be ground no finer. Time passed, and the morning rays slowly drifted down the man's mask . Finally, Teiresius tested the sword's edge against his fingernail and let the dawn cascade across the blade like a ribbon of silver. It was done

The mask shook, yet even the Goddesses would have been hard pressed to decide whether the man behind it was laughing or weeping.

000

Zelda's skirts rustled furiously as she marched between the elaborate tapestries into the throne room. She had spent much of the night preparing for this moment, readying both her appearance and her logic for the battle which was about to take place. The princess could only hope her preparation would be enough.

Diamonds glistened in her ears and in her hair, which was twisted in complicated patterns around a thin, silver tiara. Her dress was of the same colour, simple enough to avoid being ornate, yet possessing an uncomplicated elegance which enhanced her beauty. The princess's only mistake, it seemed to the Valkyries accompanying her, was that only her right glove matched her apparel. The left was gossamer black.

The throne room was smaller than the one concealed in the Clocktower, but also less chaotic It was a simple arching room with sandstone walls and lead-lined windows facing east and north. A throne covered in gold-leaf dominated one end of the room, opposed by a dozen intricately carved wooden chairs.

Standing upright in the center of the hall, the king was taller than Zelda remembered. She noticed that although his shoulders were still broader than Garret's, his hair and beard were flecked with gray, and the hand which clung to the scepter was marred with scars. He, like his son, had once been a warrior, but now was past his prime. The prince himself stood at his father's right, and Zelda purposefully avoided his gaze.

"Ah, Princess Zelda," the king began in a tone that was not unfriendly, "we thought perhaps you would not come."

"Why would I not?" Zelda asked with all the politeness she could muster, "if I am honoured enough to be granted an audience than I should do everything in my power to attend."

The king shrugged demurely and retreated back towards his throne with his son in tow. He was threading his way between the chairs when another voice broke in.

"What his majesty suggests," Vaine said as she entered the room, "is that you might have other priorities princess. I am told there is a duel starting very shortly in the square."

Zelda's form was rigid, her face pale except for two spots of colour high on her cheekbones. "I was led to believe this was a private audience," she said to the king.

He did not answer until after he had carefully lowered himself into the throne, but when he did his voice was not so friendly as before. "Circumstances have changed, princess. Things have been brought to light that were not known when I granted you an audience."

"So you brought her here to mock me," the princess stated sharply.

"You bring it upon yourself." Shifting within his chair, the king tried to settle himself comfortably. "My son trusted you, and that was a mark in your favour. But it seems now that you have no more honour than this Aratian wench."

Suddenly Vaine did not look so pleased, and, hands on hips, she turned on the king. Sheathed in crimson, the ambassador's beauty was a jarring contrast to Zelda's. While the princess's majesty inspired men to greater things, Vaine's coquettishness awakened only base desires. Having them both in the same room made the differences even more apparent.

"I will not pretend that I enjoy your presence, ambassador," continued the king as his eyes trailed down her form. "Not all hearts are moved by a swaying walk and a pretty face."

Vaine seethed, her dainty crimson nails gouging her own skin as she clenched her fists. "You dare to insult me? You know for whom I speak!" She took one angry step forward and a dozen guards appeared from hidden alcoves, hands on hilts.

The king shrugged. "If what the princess says is true, then Aratia may already gather on my western border. Until you can entirely disprove that claim, I will hold my own opinions as to your position." The guards disappeared, but their presence was not forgotten.

Behind her impassive mask, Zelda started at the monarch's trust in her argument. He still believed her, even after the disaster of Demon's past. Perhaps, the princess thought tentatively, she still had a chance to sway him to her side.

The Aratian ambassador opened her mouth, then shut it, her eyes shiny with hate. Zelda, who had much better control over her facial expression, waited quietly for the king's next words.

"I have heard many things," he motioned the two women to sit, "about the fall of Hyrule. Many rumours and many lies. I have brought you here today to tell each side of the story so that truth may be found somewhere in the middle." He paused, and his face hardened. "Speak carefully, for much rests upon your words."

Garret said nothing, his eyes as steely as his father's.

000

_ Crouching, Demon circled his opponent, twisted serpentine knives seeking an opening in the Gerudo's defences. The crowd screamed for blood, shouting his name to the heavens. "Demon! Demon!" The cry throbbed through the arena like a physical presence as it wrapped the warrior in blood-lust._

The assassin blinked and stared hard at the sand beneath his feet. No, it wasn't sand, it was stone. Dark and cool, the walls of the alcove closed over him like a protective embrace or a stranglehold; he wasn't sure which. The roar of a mob could be heard faintly, reverberating through the empty hallways and abandoned passages, but it did not bother Demon. He had stood before many crowds in his lifetime, some worshiping him, some calling for his blood. He did not fear the Terminians gathered outside, although their hatred was a tangible presence radiating through the palace.

Demon drew a knife, one of the Kell, and frowned at his tortured reflection in the blade. So it had come to this, once again; a battle against the flawed, deluded, _weak_, fools who had come to challenge him. A chance for vengeance, a chance to kill. Yet, astonishingly, there was no chance of him winning.

For Demon knew he could not avoid the inevitable. Whether in victory or defeat, whether by murder or by death, he would be banished from the land of Termina. The assassin snarled and slammed a gauntleted fist into the stone beneath him. Zelda was in Termina! How dare they try to separate him from Zelda? Did they not know he would kill every goddess-cursed one of them to stay at her side, just to walk in the glory of her shadow?

_ The glaring sun beat down on the two contestants as they circled. The sandy floor of the arena was hot as flames beneath their feet. The Gerudo was already sweating heavily, either from fear, the heat, or a mixture of both. Despite his heavy black cape, Demon did not feel the heat. All his awareness was concentrated on his opponent._

A horn was blown somewhere in the square outside, and the assassin jumped to his feet. He shook his head to clear it as previous battles raged their way through his mind, as varied as the opponents he had faced, yet all bearing the same crimson-drenched ending. He had tried so hard to rise above this brutality, yet always their mockery brought down his wrath upon them. A barrier shattered within him and rage, quick and hot, surged with the pumping of his heart. Let the nobles come, he was ready!

The great roar which greeted him as he strode out into the square was deafening, and yet the black-cloaked warrior heard it only distantly. His ember-flecked eyes skidded across the mass of people, picking out the soldiers and the assassins with ease, before turning to the lone man standing in the open space in the centre. Demon took his time approaching, reveling both in the anger and the subdued fear he sensed in those around him. They did not realize yet that they should be terrified, but they would, in time.

Those within the crowd who had known the Lord Demon hesitated, hardly recognizing the man before them. His finery was replaced by black rags, revealing a bestial killer in place of an enigmatic noble. Some stared at the dozen knives strapped to his person and wondered if he had been carrying such weapons before when they had met him out in the gardens or at some lord's table. They wondered how close they had come to death without ever knowing it.

Rash watched Demon's approach warily, his face going a shade whiter; although it was hard to tell in the noon sun. He held a sheathed sword in his hand, the dark scabbard contrasting with his white shirt and casting a strange shadow across the stone.

The crowd stumbled gradually to silence as the assassin halted not ten paces from the lord and unclasped the cape at his neck. It rippled to the ground like a collapsing dream and formed a small, dark smudge upon the stone. Rash waited, squinting, suddenly unsure in a moment that stretched impossibly long.

"You wanted to fight the Butcher!" Demon roared finally, his weapons appearing in his hands. "Your wish is granted. Fight me!"

000

"You lie!"

Zelda glared at her adversary, fighting to exploit the holes in her logic. "Why would I ever have wanted to make war on Aratia? Hyrule is a tenth the size of your country!"

Smiling, Vaine stretched her shoulders in a way which made one of the hidden guards drop his weapon. She winked at him as he leaned out of the alcove to retrieve it. "I did not say you wanted war princess, although maybe you did, I am not privy to the dark schemes within your mind. Your primary goal, as both of us know, was to assassinate my king."

The princess clasped her hands before her in a conscious effort to maintain control. She had made plans as to how her audience was supposed to go, plans that had been shattered the moment Vaine appeared. She needed to control the conversation and wrench it to the subject she wished to discuss, but it appeared that neither the king nor Vaine would be outmaneuvered.

"Come princess," Vaine chided smugly, "this is not the time for lies."

"You did not answer my question ambassador," Zelda reminded her, "why would I want war with Aratia, or to assassinate its king?"

The raven-haired woman smiled once again, as if she'd hoped Zelda would press her on the subject. "Political turmoil in the Aratian Empire is an opportunity for many things. Perhaps you wished for a weaker monarch to take the throne. Perhaps you even thought Aratia would dissolve into chaos."

Nodding thoughtfully, the king studied Zelda's face. "That is a compelling reason, princess. Your country and Vaine's have a long history of subterfuge and violence, and the downfall of Aratia would not be lamented in Hyrule."

"Just as the destruction of Hyrule would be celebrated in Aratia," argued the princess, "As it was and is. I tell you that the only assassin involved was sent to murder me, to make it easier for the coming invasion!"

"Such deceit," Vaine said scornfully, "but I guess it must be expected."

The king of Termina stared at her for a moment, as if trying to read something beneath the flawless skin and ruby lips. His face clouded and he turned to Zelda. "Who did they send to assassinate you" he asked, "who would be trusted with such a task?"

Zelda hesitated, realizing the dangers of the truth. The princess knew the ways in which Vaine would twist her answer, but she also knew that she was running out of time.

"Demon." She said finally.

Vaine laughed then, long and loud so that the chamber rang with her mockery. A servant appeared out of a side-passage and winced as the harsh sound hit his ears.

"Demon," the Aratian repeated Zelda's words. "The very Demon who is wanted in Aratia for the murder of a dozen lords, including the famous Arawn? The very Demon who, far from killing you, has travelled with you from Hyrule? The very Demon who is your lover?" She laughed again. "Your skills are wasted as a politician princess, you should have been a jester!"

In that moment Zelda would have like nothing better than to wrestle a sword from one of the guards, and use it to hack off the ambassador's head. All of her qualms, all of her doubts about her ability to kill disappeared, and it was all she could do to keep her body in her chair. It was well that the king noticed the servant then, and that the man's words froze her anger cold.

"What is it?" asked the king, "Speak!"

The man bobbed a quick bow. "The duel is about to start my king. Shall I allow it to continue?"

The monarch paused, tapping his scepter thoughtfully. "Either way it might start a riot," he mused. "How many have gathered to watch?"

"Most of the nobles and many of the servants. They all wish to see the Butcher die."

The king's eyes flicked to Zelda before she could wipe the emotion from her face. "Do you wish to speak princess, before I give an order?"

Few times in her life had the princess felt so completely helpless. She could see by the king's eyes that his decision was made, that there would be no reprieve for Demon, yet she had to somehow change his mind.

"The man I brought to Termina," she began, her voice quavering slightly despite her best effort, "is no longer the Butcher. He has thrown off the chains of the arenas, he has run from his former masters in Aratia, and he has sworn to serve me."

Vain smirked and was about to speak, but the king waved her to silence. "That does not absolve Demon of his crimes," he said.

"No," Zelda agreed, rising from her chair with the depth of her conviction, "but it gave me a reason to forgive him. As I have told you, he was the one the Aratians sent to murder me. He…could have succeeded, but he let me live."

She stood rigid as she struggled to regain composure, then slowly, carefully, knelt upon the cold stone floor. "I beg you Termina, do not turn him back to the darkness. The Butcher is already dead, no more blood should be shed in his name." The princess's expression was regal, her form was straight, but her eyes…

The anguish within them was more potent than any words could ever have expressed.

000

"Lord Demon!"

The warrior froze in the act of raising his knives and glared behind him to see a woman pushing her way through the crowd. Murmers rose around her like an angry wave and few of the crowd moved from her path willingly, yet their resentment only fueled her determination. It was Selena, captain of the Valkyries; she bore a dark bundle in one hand.

"He's no Lord!"

"Curse you woman!"

"Kill him already!"

The shouts increased as Selena reached the front, and she had to almost fight her way through the last few rows. Someone shoved her just as she cleared the mob, so she stumbled into the clearing like a sacrifice towards an altar. The Valkyrie was tough, but there was fear in her eyes as she rose to her feet and continued towards Demon.

All around the impatience grew. Individuals melted together, molding their respective wills into one smouldering madness. Their shouts filled the air until all that could be heard was a continuous roar, punctuated by the harsh beat of a growing chant. The words couldn't be understood, but the meaning was clear.

Selena dusted herself off and glanced to Demon's weapons as if she expected him to sheath them. When he didn't, she paused, then gave him the message that had been entrusted to her, yelling to be heard over the crowd.

"The princess Zelda beseeches you to restrain yourself Lord Demon! She reminds you that this is not your Destiny and proposes another way!"

Demon glared at her scathingly. He did not speak, but the anger in his face was an obvious reply. He knew what his Destiny was. It was here, in the arenas. He had his knives, he had an opponent, why had he ever desired anything else?

"You must listen!" Selena could almost see him slipping away. "If you die it would destroy her!"

Something flickered in the assassin's eyes, a flash of pain, of rage, of loss so profound it could have made the world break, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. "Yet she is not here!" he hissed, "she has abandoned me!"

Selena had no answer. She herself did not understand why Zelda had not come.

Pressing the bundle into Demon's arms, the Valkyrie turned and fled from the ring. She disappeared into the mob with the same abruptness as her appearance, glad to rid herself of both the responsibility and the burden of Zelda's message. Although Selena was loyal to the princess, she had little love for the gladiator called the Butcher.

000

Such was the power of the princess's emotion that no one spoke, not even Vaine. There was something almost sacred in Zelda's plea, and no one wanted to be the first to deny her.

Three bells rang, high and distant, and the long quavering sound was enough to break the spell. The king of Termina shook his head as if awaking from a dream, and met Zelda's eyes with all the foreboding of coming judgment.

"Tell me, princess," he asked quietly, "which is more important to you, this murderer or Hyrule?"

"I don't understand," said Zelda. Every line, every facet of the princess showed flat incomprehension as her elfin features whitened.

"If I offered to grant you one or the other…" His voice was soft, as if unaware of the cruelty of his suggestion. Behind him Garret's eyes showed the first signs of thawing as he stared at his father in distaste.

The shock of such the offer froze Zelda in place. How could the king be so pitiless as to make her choose between the murder of her companion and the fate of her country? Did he truly think she could make such a choice?

"That is an evil offer," Garret said suddenly as he drew farther away from the king.

"Yet necessary." Vaine countered. "Which will it be princess? Your lover or your tiny, backwards kingdom?"

The king of Termina bristled. "Quiet ambassader! Your lips spew little but poison, and this woman is tortured enough!"

There was nothing Zelda could do, her mind seemed frozen, as if she had been mortally wounded and was drifting towards the darkness. She would die if she abandoned Hyrule, yet, without the Hero of Time, the world would end. Either choice held consequences she could not face.

It was, as she had anticipated the night before, truly impossible.

Her smile, as she finally met the king's gaze, was like splintering ice in the northern passes. "I cannot choose," she confessed, "I should not have to. I love my country more than life itself."

"Then let the Butcher die!" Garret broke in, the urgency in his tone betraying his feelings. "I will take responsibility, princess, I will take the blame. His sins are not your fault!"

Zelda sighed, her gaze travelling down her arm to the black silk glove on her hand. She had no arguments that could make them understand, only the single, desperate hope that they still had enough belief to recognize the significance of what she was about to show them.

The princess pulled at her glove, one finger at a time, and slid it from her hand in one long continuous movement. The skin beneath, so long covered, so little exposed, was as pale as the moon itself. For a moment Zelda hesitated, unsure, but then she twisted her wrist to expose the golden mark and shoved it towards the king.

There was a mutual gasp as all three witnesses stared at the divine symbol in disbelief.

"You know what this is," Zelda stated calmly, "you even know what this means. It is a sign of the breaking of the world."

"Impossible!" Vaine hissed, her eyes wild with disbelief.

The princess ignored her. "There is little time to explain, but I swear to you that Demon bears the same mark. You must understand. If he falls in that duel we shall have no defense against the ancient evils. If he falls, than you have condemned us all to ruin!"

Garret reached out, as if to touch the glowing symbol, then pulled his hand quickly back. "Zelda," he breathed, "all along, you were…"

The king's eyes were hollow, and he shrunk into himself. He seemed to grow old and brittle in the space of a few moments. ;His mouth opened, but no sound came out, and his gaze drifted off into space as if expecting help from some unknown quarter.

"Call off the duel!" Zelda urged him, but her entreaty brought no response. "Call off the duel!" she yelled to the servant, yet he was still staring at the king, waiting for orders that were not coming.

000

_He was anger. He was steel. The heat radiated out from the walls, from the sand, from the gladiators themselves, and the universe collapsed into a singular point of violence amidst an empty void. The assassin welcomed it eagerly, felt the pain of memory give way to the opiate of madness, and let his eyes flame with the rage that burned his very soul. The void was darkness. Demon was its shadow. He struck!_

No! His knives were in his hands, but no opponent lay prone before him. Instead a dark cloth lay open on the ground, with a single clump of white at its centre. The assassin knelt, confused, only to recognize the crumpled fingertips of a glove, Zelda's glove, for her left hand.

He froze, and the hot breeze swirled up around him, the scent of the princess rising with it. It filled him, conjuring up a pain that threatened to rip its way from his body. The world flickered and suddenly he saw a different day, so long before that it seemed to be only a dream. The grip on his knives slackened, and the assassin wondered what had brought him so far away from that place, from her.

But with the pain came also rage.

Across from him, Rash drew his sword and threw the scabbard into the encompassing crowd. The noble's face was a twisted mask of hate, his eyes gleaming with the promise of a bloody redemption. In three strides he had engaged his enemy and his sword was glittering death as it flashed angrily in the blazing sun. His last step landed squarely upon the tiny silken object strewn in his path, crushing it stained and dirty to the dust.

It was such a frail thing, such a frail hope on which the princess had balanced the fate of the world.

The vision of that crushing boot absorbed more of Demon's attention than either the crowd or the sword cutting towards his throat. It did not stop him from dodging, nor did it slow the shadows building in his mind, and yet the finality of the brutal act rebelled within him. Why did it always come to this? Loyalties discarded. Honour gone. A fight, a kill, a blinding anger, then emptiness. How had he fallen so far?

A crossbow quarrel shot between the assassin's legs, fired from somewhere within the crowd. Ricocheting off the marble it sank into the calf of an onlooker who's screams could barely be heard above the ambient roar. _So this is to be an execution_, Demon thought,_ Rash is only the bait._ He dodged another of the noble's strikes and let his movements become more erratic.

They could not hurt him. They could come with their crossbows and their swords, their hate and their curses, but they could not hurt him. There were few things left in the realm of men, or gods, that could. They might—Demon blocked a blow, his eyes blazing—kill him, but the assassin doubted whether the Terminians could even accomplish that. They were weak, blinded by their humanity.

He was a demon.

Rash swung and the assassin hit the flat of the blade with his gauntlet, forcing the noble to retreat. His sword whirled in a defensive pattern as Demon's knives sought his flesh, but it did not hold as a momentary stumble cost him in blood. The man countered with a vicious horizontal cut, but Demon slid to ground and watched the blade glide by overhead. Rash was only an average swordsman, the assassin did not understand how the noble had ever hoped to beat him.

Again a crossbow bolt whizzed by, but this time Demon hardly noticed. Something alien had brushed his left hand and he jerked away before realizing that it was the glove. He stared at it, the trampled flower amidst the dust, and the momentary hesitation almost cost him his life as he barely avoided another hammering strike. Inside his head rage flamed anew and he blasted it at Zelda's memory. He was not going to die! Not because of her!

Yet, rather than vanishing, the princess grew larger and larger, and Demon snarled in frustration. All of this, from the day he had first killed in the arenas, to this pointless fight against a foolish lordling, all of it was her fault. If not for her he would never have been sent back! If not for her he would have never have become Demon! If not for her…_he would still be a Hero!_

The assassin missed a block, and Rash's sword painted a bloody line up his bicep. The crowd cheered, yammered, screamed, and Demon roared with the pain of every shred of his shattered soul. He felt the lines blurring, felt reality twisting in front of him, and finally, inevitably, relinquished control to the darkness.

Somewhere, as if from a childhood dream, a bell tolled three times.

000

_"Link?"_

_"Yes?"_

_ "If I were a bird, would you still love me?"_

_"Honestly?"_

_"Honestly."_

_ "...No."_

_ "If I were a lizard, would you still love me?"_

_ "No."_

_ "What if I were one of those spiders you met on your travels, a Skulltula? Would you be able to look into my nine little spider eyes and still love me?_

_ "No!"_

_ "You're awfully unromantic Link."_

_ "That's true."_

_ "You could have at least lied."_

_ "Princess, if a man were to walk into New Castletown right now, claiming to be in love with a Skulltula, what would you do?"_

_ "I'd call him a menace to society and throw him into the dungeons."_

_ "And you'd get me to kill his spider."_

_ "Correct."_

_ "If I were that man, I might call you awfully unromantic."_

_ "What are you trying to say Link?"_

"_That I don't want to leave you."_

_ "Oh."_

_ "Is that all princess?"_

_ "We've had this argument Link, do you want to start it again?"_

_ "I don't want to go back to being a child. This is where I belong."_

_ "I know, I know! We spent all of yesterday discussing this! Must we always go in circles?"_

_ "I'm not going back."_

_ "Link, we have gone through the prophecies, we have gone through the Holy Books! If you remember, we even travelled to Death Mountain and saw the approaching blight! This world is ending, if you stay you will die."_

_ "I would rather stay here than go back to a life where…where…"_

_ "It is only a matter of days Link. Ganondorf controlled this place for far too long, and the remnant of his evil is destroying everything! The edges of the world are dying and curling back towards the center, the place where it began."_

_ "The Temple of Time."_

_ "It started there, and there it will end."_

_ "So that's where we will wait. You and I together."_

_ "We? No. I. That's where I will wait, protecting the seal to the end. You will be sleeping peacefully in that ridiculous Kokiri Village, hopefully unable to remember any of this._

_ "That sounds like more of a curse than a blessing princess."_

_ "Do you want to die? You lost seven years of your life to Ganondorf and his wars, don't you want them back?"_

_ "I will not leave you here, I will not be the one who runs away!"_

_ "I…want you to live the life you were meant to have, Link. It would be selfish to keep you here in a dying world, just for me._

_ "Zelda…"_

_ "That's an order, Link."_

_ "I don't take orders from you, princess."_

_ "I tell you, it will be easier for me knowing you escaped. You can go Link, you have that choice. I can send you back."_

_ "…"_

_ "Link…"  
_

_ "Then do it, although both of us will regret this, before the end."_

_ 000 _

"Come!" Zelda urged, grabbing the king's hand and helping Garret pull him from his chair. A dozen guards stepped into view, but Garret waved them away in annoyance. "We must stop this atrocity!"

000

Demon blinked, suddenly back in control. The crowd spun and twisted as his vision reoriented itself, and he studied his blood-stained gauntlets with incomprehension. Where was he, and why was he wearing black, not green? One hand flew back to tap the hilt of the Mastersword, but met only air. Then his eyes fell on the body outstretched before him and the assassin recoiled in horror as he remembered who he was.

Rash was a mass of wounds, the tendons of his sword hand deliberately cut so he had been defenceless against the onslaught. Demon knew the man was still alive, his chest rose and fell with each shallow gasp, and yet he was close, very close, to passing over. The crowd had fallen silent, the only sound being the shuffle of other challengers stepping reluctantly to the front. The assassin met their eyes, one by one, and saw the awakening fear within, the realization of their approaching doom.

He should have died with Zelda, Demon knew, as he saw his own hideousness reflected in their souls. He should have taken her to the Temple and awaited the end of the world, still untarnished, still innocent, still a Hero. That was his Destiny, yet somehow he had outlived it.

His gaze fell to the dust, and his shoulders bowed with all the weight of his unnatural torment. Why should he not let it end? Why should he not let them kill him, finally go to join his memories in the darkness? What was left for him here?

The click of a firing crossbow made him drop automatically to a crouch, yet even as the bolt passed overhead he already regretted moving. He stared across the stone, stared at Zelda's crumpled glove.

That had been his chance. The bolt had been well aimed, it would have pierced his heart. Yet even when the assassin wished for death, he still dodged, still clung to existence. Why? Demon pondered the question for a moment, reaching ever farther back into himself as he did so.

He could never go back to that crumbling time, and end his life as it had meant to be ended. He could not rewrite his Destiny, he could not erase the past. The Hero of Time had become so dark, so twisted, so distorted that he was hardly a hero at all, and yet he still had a purpose in the world if only he could see it.

He still had a princess to protect.

She was not the same, she would never be the same, yet she needed him to be a Hero and that was enough. In her was the chance for Demon to redeem himself.

Things roared in his head. Darkness raged and shadows convulsed. There was bleating and gnashing, curses and whispering despair, yet they did not break him. The demons writhed in frenzy, the voices whispered terrible secrets, yet they did not break him! Demon stood firm, the wind tearing at his bound rags, and for the first time in many years he remembered who he was.

"People of Termina!" he roared, turning his gaze to the silent crowd, "this man, Rash Alcarin, does not deserve to die. I give him back his life as payment for his brother's."

"You!" He pointed to the mass of would-be challengers, huddled together in a tight bunch. "Go back to your homes and your families, go back to those you still have! I cannot bring back the people I have murdered. Even if you kill me it will not bring back the people you loved."

He turned to face the rest of the crowd, sheathing his knives as he did so. "But I promise you this: I will never again set foot in the arenas, I will never again kill for money or the pleasure of the crowd. I am a gladiator no longer."

The mob rumbled angrily, pressing closer as it remembered its purpose. Hands pushed the remaining challengers relentlessly forward, and a few drew their weapons and began to advance.

Demon stood firm. "There is one more thing," his voice rang out above the crowd and made them pause once more. "I will not be dying here today, and neither will any of you. Do you remember the old magics, Termina?" He ripped at his left gauntlet, eager to be rid of it. "Do you remember the Cycle? The Butcher is dead…I am the Hero of Time!"

Demon raised his hand and felt, rather than saw, the golden flash as the blessed power of the goddesses raged through him. For a moment a profound regret seized him, but it passed quickly. This was the only way for him to go on living, it was the only way to save what was left of himself

It was the only way to protect Zelda.

000

They rushed through the crowd, barely staying behind the soldiers who bludgeoned a path for them. The king had found his own feet now, and Zelda was comforted by the powerful sway of his shoulders as he marched forwards. The man had made a decision. Whether it was for good or ill she could not tell, but at least, thank the Goddesses, he would intervene.

The faces in the crowd were angry as the soldiers forced them to the side, but as they caught sight of their king the dangerous tensions began to fade. Many looked almost guilty, finally realizing the extent to which they'd been carried away. Some bowed, while others were too preoccupied to pay the proper respects. An oblivious few shouted obscenities, but they were quickly found and arrested as the king and his retinue continued forwards.

It was a strange scene that awaited them at the center of the mob, one that both dashed Zelda's hopes and fulfilled them in the same moment. The Terminian challenger was a bloody heap upon the stone, yet Demon's left hand was bare, the glowing symbol revealed for all. It seemed that the princess's final gift had not been in vain, although it had perhaps come too late to save Rash.

She stopped herself from rushing forward, just barely, as the king of Termina took a slow, deliberate step into the circle and raised a hand to quiet his subjects. The princess did not understand why Demon's gaze barely skipped over her as he turned to the king, but she had little time to ponder it as the king began to speak.

"What has happened here?" he demanded, his voice struggling to silence the last remnants of the whispering. "Lord Karn, you come from an honest family. Speak!"

The man he pointed to was little more than a boy, the light armor he bore too big for the frame it encased. He was among the group of would-be challengers, although it seemed now he would have preferred to be elsewhere. "The Butcher," he pointed, "says he is the Hero of Time, as if that should stop our revenge!"

"Will it?" The king's voice was deceivingly soft, for it carried far over the crowd.

At first that answer was obvious from the murderous look Karn leveled at his opponent across the ring, but then the man's shoulders slumped. "I do not know," he admitted, "I wish him dead, but he bears the mark."

Nodding in approval, the king swept the masses with his gaze. "That is wisdom!" he confirmed, "though it come from the youngest among us. You remember the old legends better than I thought, my people. You know why any man who claims to be the Hero of Time must be protected until it can be proven truth or falsehood."

A murderous rumble swept through the crowd as voices were raised in protest. The king raised his hand again, but this time his people were not so quick to obey. Only grudgingly did the muttering die down, causing the soldiers surrounding the king to clench their spears nervously.

"You will obey your king!" Termina roared back, his large frame shaking with the effort. "If this man truly is the Hero of Time, killing him would doom us all! Perhaps later you will get your justice, but for now the Butcher must live!"

_**Heretic!**_

Men winced and clapped hands to ears as the word rolled like thunder across the square. It seemed to have no direction, no source, just an overwhelming volume which reverberated within the very bones of the assembly. Suddenly there were clouds in the sky, moving in the grip of a harsh east wind which scudded twists of dust along the dry stone.

_**Did you think I would not see your treachery? Did you think you could conceal it? Look to the east O Termina, for your judgment comes on the wind!**_

Heads whirled, a low moan forced its way between open lips, and suddenly the angry mob of moments before was a frenzy of pushing and shoving. Men were yelling, women screamed, some even collapsed to the ground as the sheer power of the voice overcame them. The circular crowd conformed and compressed itself into a half-moon as all fled the eastern side, leaving Zelda, Garret and the king to squint warily into the dust-edged wind.

_**I will bleed you of this poison. I will save you from yourselves.**_

And there she was, carried upon the wings of the storm.

The Maiden of the Moon.

The nobles of Termina prostrated themselves upon the hard marble, even their king sank to his knees as the Goddess approached. Zelda stood frozen in shock as she watched the mirror image of the Moonlord's statue come striding across the square towards her. What she was seeing, what they were all seeing, should not have been possible in the mortal realm.

She was tall for a woman, the unearthly pale of her skin contrasted by the hypnotic darkness of her eyes. Her silver shift was as insubstantial as moonlight and floated gauze-like in a wind which should have torn it from her. In her left hand was clutched the obsidian rod of the judge, and in her right was a long, twisted blade forged of a metal which ate light rather than reflecting it. When she spoke her mouth did not move, yet her beautiful, terrible, overwhelming voice blasted forth anyway.

_**You!**_

The sword came up, pointing at the king's heart.

_**You were meant to protect my people! You were meant to guide them! Yet the people lament and Termina cries out against the evil you have let enter this land. Why, O King, do you check their justice, and pardon the sins of murderers? Why, O King, do you pervert my laws, and mock my prophet?**_

"I…I…" he whispered through suddenly dry lips.

_**Silence!**_

The king dropped to the ground clutching his ears, his face contorting into a rigid mask of agony as the full force of her voice was directed at him. He writhed as the last, precious moments of his life slipped by, and the Maiden drew steadily closer. So awesome was she in the moment of her vengeance, that no one, not even Garret, thought to intervene. They saw the naked blade, saw their monarch churning in the dust, and they welcomed his end.

_**I am truth!**_

She stood over him now, a supernatural executioner. One perfectly sculpted leg planted itself on his chest and the blade drew back for a final strike.

_**I am justice!**_

Yet sometimes, even a Goddess cannot foresee everything.

There came a small, insignificant click, the sound of a firing crossbow, and suddenly, impossibly, a quarrel buried itself in the divine shoulder. Her scream was the wild hysteria of which nightmares are made, yet the crimson rivulet down her arm was as real as the sky rod of justice fell from nerveless fingers, and the crowd turned, awestruck, to the man who had made a Goddess bleed.

He rushed to the attack, limping badly, yet deadly fast. A black cloak fluttered with the speed of his assault, draping the shoulders of a black coat with a black shirt beneath. He carried a great sword in his hands, yet the terror of his coming was not inspired by the weapon as much as the horrible darkness of the mask he wore. The holes where the man's eyes should have been were empty voids, the mouth was a slash of nothing across the face of midnight.

The Maiden turned, still screaming, and unleashed a torrent of silver power at her adversary. It smote him to the ground, yet he was up again in an instant and she was forced to block his strike with her own sword.

_**I am a God you fool!**_

Her attacker did not answer. As his second strike clashed against her blade, the jagged metal shattered to dust. The man twisted to avoid another jet of power, then reached up to grab her by her pale, perfect throat.

She looked at him then, and there was fear in the Maiden's dark eyes, reflected in the void of her attacker's mask.

"You are no God," he said, and his sword stabbed through the soft flesh of her stomach like lightening through the storm.

Dust settled upon the stone. Clouds vanished and once more the sky became a light, sweltering blue. A keening wail filled the air as the Moonlord appeared from some hidden position, and the Maiden crumpled slowly forwards.

For a moment all was frozen, then, as if moved by one mind, Garret and Zelda ran to pull the king away from the growing crimson pool. They each grabbed an arm, yet a sharp word from the masked figure stopped them. Both royals gazed at him warily.

The sword dropped from his hands as the Lord of the Void approached them. He was breathing heavily, even trembling Zelda noticed, but his voice betrayed none of the tension of his body. "My prince, my princess," he said, "it is joy beyond joy to see you both alive at the end of this most fateful day. I confess, the stars were not in your favour."

Garret peered suspiciously into the mask as he knelt to wrap an arm around his father. "Who…what matter of creature are you, to be able to murder Gods?" He would have said more, but the king stirred in his grasp.

The crown had fallen low upon his brow and his face was pale as the Maiden's skin, yet the king's eyes quickly sharpened as he stared upwards at his saviour. "Teiresius, my friend!" Trailing off, he blinked in confusion. "No, I attended your funeral. Ten years dead if it's a day.

"Oh, but I was dead. Dead to Gods and men and angels. Dead to everyone, but that cursed priest and his puppets." Teiresius motioned angrily to the quivering, wailing heap that was the Moonlord. "But no longer. They've paid the price for meddling with the Gods."

The king's eyes widened. "But you've killed a God. What price will you pay?"

"Price?" the Lord of the Void asked, "I will pay no price. Look."

He approached the fallen body callously, shoving a weeping Moonlord away as he did so. Whispered words fell from his mouth as he grabbed a handful of the woman's hair and pulled back her head, words that must have held some power in themselves, for suddenly the corpse's form began to change.

The shining, ethereal glow of the Maiden's body faded, and her hair darkened to raven black. Zelda gasped, and Garret choked back a curse. The crowd murmered and shuffled as some among it traced the moon upon themselves.

"It's," the princess's voice was hoarse, "it's Vaine."

000

_The darkness drops again; but now I know_

_That twenty centuries of stony sleep_

_Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,_

_And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,_

_Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?_

From The Second Coming, by William Butler Yeats

Author's Note: Well, was that a plot twist or what? :-) Although I know at least a few of you saw that coming. Please review this chapter if you read it because I could really use feedback on the parallel structure of Demon and Zelda's experiences, and the writing style in general.

As a holiday bonus I'm also including two scenes that I cut from Demon's flashback about OoT Zelda. They were cut from the text because they are really too sappy and stereotypical to be of value, but I think that some of you might appreciate them anyway. Some of you will realize that the second one has "Luthien" written all over it, but what is Fanfiction really if you aren't stealing from the masters?

Deleted Scenes: :-)

_The castle crumbled like sand as lightening flashed unholy ruin across the sky. The corpse had vanished, yet Link clung to the Mastersword as if he feared Ganon might rise again at any moment and begin the fight anew._

_ "It's over, Hero." Zelda voiced from beside him. "Evil is as close to the brink of destruction as it will ever be. Our task is done." She drew close to him then, and the warrior realized how frail she had become inside her crystal prison. He wrapped an arm around her, and touched a cheek to her soaked and bedraggled hair._

_ The words he had been about to say vanished from his mind as something entirely unbidden rose to replace them._

_ "I love you, princess; I will love you forever."_

_ Zelda smiled, but did not return the embrace. Instead she pulled away and turned to face him. "Forever is a long time, Link."_

_ "Nevertheless, I swear it." Link felt the blade of the Mastersword prick his flesh as he ran a hand along it. "No matter what awaits us, I will never stop."_

_ Zelda's eyes were solemn as she gazed back at her Hero. "Then neither will I," she promised._

_000_

_He was in a forest, a scattered landscape of ancient oaks rearing mighty boughs towards the midnight sky. The light of a full moon diluted the blackness enough for him to see, but only in the shades of mist and shadow._

_ She came towards him, her hair unbound, her face luminous, her movements elven-quick. Pressing back into a tree, he smiled at the knowledge that she could not see him, and knew that this momentary vision of the ethereal was his and his alone. No one else would ever see Hyrule's princess dancing free and wild in the trees of the Great Forest. No one else could share this moment._

_ A branch snapped beneath his foot and he winced as Zelda whirled towards the noise, tensed for flight. "Link?" she called, but he did not answer._

_ The warrior was a shadow within a shadow, floating to her right, to a different tree. He snapped another branch , this time deliberately, and once again the princess whirled._

_ "Who's there?"_

_ A third branch cracked, then a fourth, and Zelda turned slowly trying to watch all directions at once. Her eyes strained to pierce the mysterious shadows, and she pushed the hair behind her pointed ears as if it might improve her hearing. She paused, sensing a presence and yet hearing nothing, growing more fearful with each passing instant._

_ Crack!_

_ The princess jumped, tensed, spun and screamed all in the same moment, and ended up a tangle of limbs upon the mossy loam. Link stood over her, holding a broken twig in his hands, and wearing a grin that seemed to split his face in two._

_ "I thought princess's were supposed to be graceful?"he murmured._

_ "And I thought you'd promised to dance with me!" Zelda glared at him._

_ Link only smiled, letting the twig fall from his hands, and waited for her face to soften. When it did, he pulled her gently to her feet and wrapped his other arm around her waist. "I never break my promises," he said, and right there, under the vigilance of the oaks, in the ballroom of the forest, they began to dance. _

_ It was a perfect moment, it belonged to them alone._

000


	65. Chapter 65

_The world is a place of balance, Light and darkness. Evil and good. Therefore there shall be another to balance the truth spoken by the Moonlord. This other shall be the shadow in the darkness, the whisperer in the hearts of men. He shall be called the Lord of the Void._

_The Book of the Maiden: Law Four_

Chapter 65

_Vaine…Vaine_, the name whispered through the crowd like a chill wind, rippling concentric circles through the massed humanity. Some of the nobles pressed forwards anxiously, hoping for a better look at the body of the Maiden. They were not disappointed.

It sagged lifelessly as Teiresius hoisted the corpse upright, the head lolling against his shoulder, the bloody gossamer staining his coat. "Is this your Goddess Termina?" he yelled, shaking his burden as he did so.

There was no answer. Men and women stared confused at the still form of the Aratian ambassador and wondered what had happened to the Maiden. Suspicion penetrated their minds only slowly, but when it did new realization bloomed in their eyes.

Teiresius saw it and laughed triumphantly, a sound warped by his mask. "Do you see how you have been lied to? How you have been deceived? There never was a Maiden. The Goddess you worshipped was just a Aratian trick sustained by this groveling fool!" He pointed to the Moonlord.

The object of his attention seemed oblivious to the accusing eyes of the crowd as he crawled painfully to his feet. "Heretic!" he cried, trying to force some of the old authority into his words. "You damned, cursed, despicable heretic! You shall be punished!"

"By whom?" There was a sick thud as Teiresius dropped his ghastly burden. "This imposter? No, I think it is you who will be punished. My Goddesses still live priest, and they were real to begin with!"

"Who are you?" The question came from the crowd, and it was echoed by many others. The shock was beginning to wear, and so emotions teemed back and forth, desiring someone to believe, desiring someone to blame.

"I am Teiresius! I am the Lord of the Void! Do you not remember?"

000

The chamber held a markedly different air than when Zelda had vacated it earlier, yet the irony of the situation was not lost on her. So much had changed between her morning audience with the king and this second meeting, yet she was wearing the same dress, sitting in the same chair, even feeling some of the same nervousness. Only the fact that that Demon was seated next to her, instead of dueling in the square, kept her from doubting that anything had changed at all, whatever her logic told her.

"So the Maiden…" the king said, looking at Teiresius.

"Does not exist," the prophet replied. His mask seemed less forbidding somehow, as if his anger had given it a horror that was now absent. "The Moonlord fooled even himself."

The king tapped his scepter thoughtfully against the throne. "How can you be so sure? The Moonlord has been preaching of his Goddess for years, yet Vaine was in Termina only for a season."

"Some questions only he can answer," the prophet defended himself, "yet you saw the truth with your own eyes. I tell you that the Moonlord's visions, his prophecies, only began when the ambassador arrived. You saw the Moonlord's reaction in the square! He was sure it was his Goddess."

Sighing, the king looked past the prophet out of the throne room. "If there is one consolation today brings me, it is that I finally get to execute that snake of a priest." He paused and a dark suspicion entered his gaze. "But tell me Teiresius, how is that you know this? You claim many things, yet you hide yourself behind a mask. Are you the prophet I once knew?"

There was a hesitation, a momentary failing, and then the man's hands went to the back of his mask. "No one has seen my face," he said, "in a very long time." The mask dropped away to reveal smouldering eyes set in a waxen complexion. "Do you recognize me my King?"

Termina nodded. "I do, but how-"

"It is a long story, and I will not tell it all now. I was dead, yet now I am alive. I was lost, yet now I am found. You ordained me to check the Moonlord's power, and I have obeyed your command."

"Who is this man?" Garret broke in. "How is it that you recognize him but I do not?"

The king laid a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "Because you never were a religious man. Teiresius was the secret of much of my knowledge, a prophet blessed with divine vision by the Goddesses. He and the Moonlord were meant to balance Termina's religion between the worship of the Maiden and the worship of the Goddesses. His supposed death ended that hope, although why he did not come forward earlier I do not understand..."

A shadow passed over the old prophet's face. "I walked many paths while imprisoned in that witch's temple, both the valleys of despair and the peaks of madness. I have seen prophecies and dreams intertwine, and been unable to tell the difference."

"So you can foretell the future?" It was the first time Zelda had spoken. She leaned forwards toward the prophet, the urgency of her question shining from her eyes.

"Hah!" Teiresius's shoulders shook with bitter humour. "And why would you ask such a question Destiny? Do you not know your future already?" He fiddled with the mask in his lap, before placing it once more over his features. "The Goddesses no longer smile upon me…my power has passed to another."

The unspoken question lingered in the air as all waited for the prophet to elaborate, but he merely shrugged. "I do not know who."

"I do not know," the king pondered. "I fear that is the answer all will give about the consequences of today. One Goddess has been disgraced, yet," he turned to Zelda, "others have risen up to take her place."

"I am no Goddess," Zelda replied quickly.

"Yet you are closer than any mortal has even been." The mockery which had haunted their earlier conversation was gone from the king's tone, only respect remained. "The world has changed much since you entered this city princess, and I fear this is only the beginning of a dark road."

"Or the end." Garret shuddered. "Legends rise to walk amongst us, monsters appear in numbers that haven't been seen in a thousand years." He looked to Zelda. "Tell us what is happening princess, so that we may save our people from this madness!"

She couldn't meet his eyes. "I know little myself prince. I was hoping Teiresius could explain."

"I could tell you many things," the prophet said, "but little that you do not already know. Darkness is coming, the Aratians believe they control it but that illusion will be shattered. The King of Evil will rise again, and you-" He pointed to Demon. "Will need Evil's Bane to stop him."

"The Master Sword," Garret breathed, and his hands twitched reflexively as if grasping an imaginary hilt.

"Which is in the Temple of Time, in Castletown." The lines in the king's face grew deeper. "So we must go to war."

"This is the end of an age my king," Teiresius explained quietly. "Either sit here in your stronghold and watch the world crumble, or make use of what hope you have been given. There are greater forces at work in this than you or I."

"Of course." The scepter tapped its slow rhythm against the throne as the king pondered. Then his eyes flicked elsewhere. "Hero, or Demon, or Butcher, whichever it is-"

"My name is Demon," the assassin insisted.

"Good, for it would sting my conscience to call you Hero." The king paused and his voice softened. "What is your opinion on this matter?"

The assassin hesitated before answering, his face troubled. "Could you win such a war?"

Termina smiled in bleak satisfaction. "That is the important question, is it not? And I am unsure as to the answer. The Aratians alone have no numerical advantage over our army, and I believe that our forces are both better trained and better led. Yet, we must consider the other powers controlled by the Aratian king."

"The moblins are easily defeated!" Garret protested, "They attack without organization and retreat without discipline! Our cavalry will break them like water."

"Yet what of the Stalfos and Darknuts?" his father replied. "What if the king has awoken other evils, more terrible still? No general would launch an invasion without knowing both the true strength and character of his enemy and I know neither!"

"There is another way," Demon breathed, and suddenly the attention of the whole room was upon him. "Send a small force, perhaps a dozen men including myself. We go to the Temple and take the Master Sword, and then kill the monarch ourselves. Without him, the soldiers and monster might turn on each other."

"An assassination." Garret's words were dismissive. "There is no honour in that. Besides, what assurance do we have that his death will solve anything at all? Hyrule will still be under Aratian domination, overrun by an army of monsters no longer checked by the king. By the time we Terminians could reconquer it, there would be nothing left but ash and bones."

Teiresius stirred uneasily in his chair. "There is some truth in what the prince says, yet there is also truth in the words of Courage." Demon looked slightly taken aback. "I fear the Aratian king is only the puppet of a greater master, one who has yet to emerge from the shadows."

"Exactly!" Excitement blazed across Garret's features. "The death of a single man will not halt the spread of evil. We must hammer the Aratians and their allies into the dust, force this 'greater master' into the open!"

"One cannot fight Power with power alone," the prophet said softly, but Garret ignored him.

"My men have trained hard for this day. We have tactics and weapons the Aratians have never seen!" He slammed a fist into his palm. "We can win this war!"

"Yet if you should lose…" The king furrowed his brow and clutched his scepter tighter in his hand.

"Have I ever lost a campaign? Have I ever failed you father?" Dark eyes flashing, he gestured to Demon and Zelda. "Just as it is their destiny to defeat evil, it is mine to conquer on the battlefield!"

"No man knows his destiny until it has come to pass." Demon's voice rolled across the room. "Let me bring back the sword, at least, before you invade."

This time it was Zelda who spoke out against him. She seemed hurt, as if she thought Demon's reluctance was a betrayal of their cause.

"I trust Garret," the princess began, "if he says he can defeat the Aratians then he will, and we can claim the Mastersword on our victorious march into Castletown. Besides, the sword is beyond the door to the Sacred Realm." She looked expectantly at Demon. "How were you planning to retrieve it?"

The assassin stared at her, silent. His expression was unreadable.

The king sighed, filling the void in the conversation. "I think I knew it would come to this," he admitted, looking at Zelda, "from the day you arrived in Clocktown. I do not want war for my people, no monarch does, but there are circumstances when even I must admit it is necessary." For a moment he pondered the stunted shadows cast upon the floor, then his shoulders straightened and he rose to his feet. "Termina shall go to war, for her king wills it."

A broad grin split Garret's face, but it was checked by the King's next words. "After the Festival, we need the time to prepare."

"But-" the crown prince began and was cut off.

"Until the first harvest, we don't have the stores to launch an invasion. Or have you forgotten what that infernal winter did to our granaries? Think Garret!"

With that he descended carefully from the raised pedestal and strode from the room.

A choice given.

A decision made.

000

The spider skittered frantically across the carpet, its eight tiny legs a blur of motion. It was hairy enough to be mistaken for a small rodent, and ugly as a moblin's childhood.

Disgusted, Gabriel tried to squish the creature beneath his foot, yet missed as it expertly dodged and ran between his legs. In Zelda's day, he knew, there would have been no vermin in the castle at all, and somehow that knowledge made his failure to crush the spider all the more potent. He started as a second spider raced by, then a third, and wondered what the world was coming to.

He had never before seen three of the creatures in the same area, all fleeing in the same direction.

The air in the council chamber wavered in the distracting zone between cool and cold, the thick layers of rock reducing the scorching sun outside to a mere memory. Six guards, halberds clenched tightly in hand, lined either side of the room with a silent vigilance that made Gabriel nervous. He was wise enough now to tell the difference between the regular soldiers of the Aratian army, and those that the king had…improved. The twelve guards around him might no longer remember their own names, but each was the equal of ten normal men in a fight.

He shivered slightly, and let his gaze wander across the intricate carpets, wondering why he had been summoned. It was not often that the king of Aratia was late for an audience, and the delay did not bode well for either the man's plans or his temper. The former was unimportant to Gabriel as he cared little for the complicated schemes of the Aratians, but the latter held an ever-present danger. The king's mood was unpredictable even at its best, and at its worst he struck out viciously at those around him.

Not for the first time, Gabriel regretted the deal he had made so long before, the deal in which he had lost his soul and gained a kingdom. He no longer understood why he had ever desired power, or believed such a terrible sacrifice to be worthwhile. What man could bear such responsibility? What man could watch his people suffer knowing their ruin was of his making?

He ran a hand haphazardly through dark locks and stretched the muscles of his back under his armor. The pauldrons fit more loosely then they had the year before, but that was a small price to pay for having survived the great blizzard. Gabriel winced as he remembered the horror of that endless whiteness, the fading hopes, the dwindling food, and the interminable, barely endurable cold.

Almost half of Castletown's inhabitants had died during that winter, preceded to the grave by both Gabriel's reputation and his arrogance. From their small, hastily-constructed slums the Hylians had waited for their king to deliver them, yet he had found himself utterly powerless to do so. Each day he would walk the narrow streets between the tents, hear the wailing of children, the weeping of the bereaved, and know that it was his actions that had brought them to such squalor. Then, each night, he would turn to make the long trek back to the comforts of the castle, and feel the condemnation of hundreds of eyes upon him.

Zelda, of course, would have stayed with her people. Zelda would have fought for them, Zelda would have_ died_ for them, but Zelda was gone and Gabriel was not so strong. Many times during those hellish times he had begun to arrange an audience with the Aratian king, only to stop as fear writhed its paralyzing way through his gut. And so Gabriel had watched his people die, caught between the terror of his master and the growing burden of his self-hatred, a coward being torn apart by the wolves of circumstance.

He fancied he was a wiser man now, albeit thinner, and he sometimes found himself remembering his life as if was some half-forgotten saga. He marveled at the stupidity of the man within it as he stumbled along in a desperate search for power, and whenever he dreamed of that dark tower upon the moor he always screamed at himself to flee.

Yes, he was a wiser man, yet wisdom had come to late, and it was not he who had paid its price…

On a whim he strode over to the nearest guard, something crunching under his feet as he did so. The man stared blankly across the room with an expression of deep contemplation, yet Gabriel saw his hand tighten on his halberd and knew that any move towards a weapon would be instantly fatal.

Looking deep into the man's eyes he searched for some recognition, some meaning, some scrap of the person he had been before the spells and the dark magics. There was nothing. He waved a cautious hand before the guards face, twisting his finger into a gesture the Hylians considered obscene. Still nothing.

"Your mother had the face of a skulltula and the body of a pregnant octorok," Gabriel whispered vengefully.

Still nothing.

Gabriel almost smiled, the first time in months, but the sound of a distant door slamming chased all of the mockery from him. In moments he was standing at attention in the centre of the chamber, feeling the worms of fear once again gnawing at his belly._ I'm such a coward_, he thought bitterly,_ such a bloody coward._

"Trakand!" the king's voice was writhing anger, the emotion twisting its way across his face. A palpable menace filled the chamber as he entered and a new chill prickled Gabriel's skin beneath the frail protection of his armor.

His was not a good position. The Aratian king was beyond angry, he was furious, and he was focused on Gabriel. The Hylian monarch closed his eyes as power coalesced around the man, and waited for the end.

There was a tingling sensation, a brief, screaming rush of magic, and then the dull clanking of heavy objects hitting the carpet. Gabriel pinched himself to make sure he was still alive, and then cautiously opened his eyes. At first he did not realize what had happened, but then as his gaze swept over the room, he understood.

The twelve guards lay spread-eagled on the floor, their halberds pointing like compass needles in all manner of directions. Gabriel frowned. The men seemed unharmed, there was no blood, and yet, even without checking he knew they were no longer breathing.

"You, unfortunately," the king snarled at Gabriel, "are still useful to me. Keep it that way, or next time your corpse will grace the floor as well!" The king was fighting hard to keep his anger under control; it seemed to Gabriel that the man's body strained with the effort. A filmy black globe rotated slowly between his hands like some sickly fruit.

"I'm grateful for my life, my lord," bowed Gabriel, hating every word.

"Not grateful enough!" the king hissed. The object in his hands floated out before him, and Gabriel could see turmoil within the darkness. "In this are the souls of twelve men, all bound to me by the same oath you swore. Such fragile things souls, all one must do is twist-" There came a loud crack and the globe disappeared. "And they are gone. But what hubris! What madness! Trakand!"

Gabriel flinched as the man suddenly screamed the name. He had seemed to be in control, until that one word released his rage once again.

"Damn you girl! I gave you a simple task, and instead you started a war! How could you cause such a disaster after all our preparation? You controlled the religion! You controlled the council! The most powerful men in the land worshipped at your feet and still you manage to fail me! How?"

Silence was the key to Gabriel's survival and he embraced it wholeheartedly. The king ranted on, sometimes screaming, sometimes muttering while the man before him stared at the ground and prayed to the Goddesses. He did not think they would listen, not to a man like himself, but hope is a resilient thing.

Caught in that thought, it took Gabriel several moments to notice that the room had gone silent. He looked up, into the piercing eyes of the king of Aratia, who was suddenly intent upon him. "What will Zelda do?" the king barked, "You know her best my puppet king!"

Gabriel swallowed, and his once handsome features paled in the torchlight. "I am afraid I don't understand, my lord."

"Of course not!" he snapped, "Why would I trust you with my secrets? But tell me, will she happily stay in Clocktown while the Terminians fight her battle? Or will she come with the army, perhaps even to lead it?"

Gabriel paused. "So the Terminians have decided to attack, my lord?"

"They must, it is the only option left to them! And Zelda must be with them!" His formidable gaze bored into Gabriel. "Will she come?"

The noble pretended to think about it, although he knew the answer easily enough. There had always been fire in the princess, and the trickling rumours from Termina painted her as a warrior as well. "She will come," he said.

Hissing in satisfaction, the king turned away. "I am curious, Gabriel. How will your people take this news of their princess, considering you held a funeral in Zelda's honour?"

He had found the heart of Gabriel's worries and knew it, although his expression showed that he found the situation ironic rather than worrisome.

"Most believe the new princess is an imposter, an excuse created by the Terminians to start a war. But I fear that as their suffering grows, so too does the people's capacity for belief in the miraculous. Some say that Zelda has come back from the dead while other strike closer to the truth."

"That you betrayed her." The king mocked him. "Then we must win this war quickly, betrayer, before they are sufficiently convinced to stick a knife in your precious hide."

He began pacing, a long mechanical stride which carried him around the room. Gabriel wondered at the stiff, irregular motion, the movement almost as strange as the king's corpse-pale face, or the utter hideousness of his features. He did not remember Aratia looking so poorly when they'd first met, and for a moment he had an irrational hope that the man was dying of some deplorable illness. The king's death would not solve Gabriel's many problems, but it wouldn't exactly hurt him either.

"When the Terminians cross the mountains, they will find an army waiting for them. My army! It will be the greatest this world has seen in a thousand years, and it will grind them into dust!"

Gabriel paused, weighing his words carefully. "What of the uprising in Aratia?"

The king's glare stopped him cold. "A few scattered rebellions hardly form an uprising fool. I've dispatched Hector and his men to deal with the problem."

"Hector!" The noble's eyes widened. "But that's half the army!"

"A fifth actually." A vicious grin split the king's face. "If you count _all_ my forces. Does it worry you to know that my will is essentially the only thing standing between you and five thousand moblins?" He laughed so hard that a trickle of dark blood welled in one of his nostrils, threatening to flow down into his gaping mouth.

Gabriel bowed, his hatred strangled in the grasp of inexorable logic. "We are at your mercy my king," he said

He knew it was the truth.

000

He fell in step beside her as they exited the throne room, although Zelda was so wrapped in a whirlwind of thoughts that she didn't notice. Frowning in concentration, she absently reached up a gloved hand to adjust her tiara, the actions all but mechanical since her mind was elsewhere. Which was why she almost gasped when Demon caught her arm.

Stiffening against his touch, the princess turned her head to meet his eyes. There were many questions in her gaze, yet for a moment she and the assassin just stared at each other as the voices of the others faded into the corridors. Zelda didn't try to remove her arm from his grasp, just waited patiently as he brought it down between them and placed something soft into her waiting fingers.

She looked from her hand to him, and wondered what exactly was so different between the Demon she had once travelled with and the man before her now. The rags were the same, the weapons were the same, and yet the princess hardly recognized her companion. She found herself acutely conscious of many things, none of which had the least relevance to her situation.

"It was a gift," she finally said, and relaxed her fingers from around the stained, torn glove.

"A gift," he muttered, "with a heavy price." As he let go of her arm, the assassin noticed blood-tinged smudges upon the silk. He had forgotten his gauntlets still bore traces of the duel.

Concern blossomed in Zelda's eyes. "Are you…"

"Different? Yes. Trapped? Yes." He wiped his hands upon his cloak. "Mad? No. Keep your glove for I have made my choice. I will be the Hero of Time."

The corridor was silent, the only sound being the rustle of material as Zelda pushed the glove into a hidden pocket. "Are you sure, assassin?" she breathed. Tiny spots of colour appeared high in her cheeks, like clouds before a storm.

Demon frowned, conviction turning to confusion. "Am I sure I wish to be the Hero? I have no choice, princess." He twisted his cape in his hands uncertainly.

"You always have a choice," Zelda contradicted, "but I ask you assassin, are you capable of being a Hero?"

"I will try," Demon said.

His eyes darkened with a pain that normally would have made Zelda relent, yet this time it had the opposite effect. The frustration of a terrifying day, and the exhaustion of a sleepless night rose within her, causing words to fly unbidden from the princess' lips.

"You will try? That is a poor answer. The man who would be the Hero of Time must do more than 'try'. Tell me again assassin, are you able to be a hero?"

Demon looked away. "I swore an oath," he said.

"You swore an oath to protect me," Zelda replied, the spots in her cheeks brightening. "Nothing more."

"I swore an oath," Demon repeated, this time meeting her gaze.

Zelda's eyes were cold. "Why?"

He stared at her as if that was answer enough, even as the princess waited for him to defend himself. Eventually she stepped forwards and peered up through the narrow space between them. "Why?" she whispered.

Demon jerked his head to the side, again unwilling to meet her eyes. "It was Destiny," he hedged. Zelda could see the muscles in his shoulder tighten as he tried to evade her, but the princess' anger had finally kindled.

Grasping his arm, she half-led, half-pulled him into one of the many alcoves lining the hall. Then, eyes flashing in time to her swinging earrings, the princess pressed one dagger-like finger into his chest.

"You're lying." she hissed through clenched teeth. "Don't hide behind this talk of Destiny."

"Princess-"

"Destiny didn't keep you from the arenas! Destiny didn't turn your soul to madness, or soak Aratian streets in blood! It wasn't Destiny that stopped you from murdering me, and it isn't Destiny that drives you now!"

She paused to breath, pressing her finger ever harder.

"Can you promise me an end to the bodies? Or perhaps the lies? Can you promise me that you will be a Hero?"

Something hardened in Demon's face. "Why do you want me to promise, princess?"

"I..." Zelda began, and then her anger collapsed into something resembling sorrow. It happened fast, the two emotions entangling and twisting into each other. "I just want the truth. Today the king asked me to choose between you and Hyrule, Demon, and I chose you."

"Why?" Demon looked genuinely confused.

"Because you are the Hero of Time." Zelda's eyes were luminous with unshed tears. "Because I believe you will defeat Evil. Because I didn't want them to kill you. "

Demon stared at her and for a moment neither of them moved, then, ever so gently, he grasped the accusing hand at his chest and covered it with his own. "I promise only what is within my power, princess," he murmured.

The renewed fire in Zelda's eyes would have made another man flinch, but the assassin stood firm. "You're ruining my other glove," she said finally, "let go of me."

He did, raising both hands a little as he tried to defuse the argument. "We should get some rest, princess. It would do us both good."

There was a moment of silence, and then anger flamed within Zelda, potent to a degree she had rarely known. "Don't you bloody 'princess' me!" she snarled. "I have been through the Dark Realm a dozen times today! I thought I'd failed myself, my people, and you, all within the space of a single morning! I've been slandered by a Goddess, even if she was fake. I…I"

Suddenly her anger was gone and there were tears rolling down her cheeks. Demon stared at her, dumbfounded by the lightning fast switch. He hardly dared move, let alone speak as Zelda broke down before his eyes. There was no sound to her distress, yet the way in which she crumbled to the bench tore at the assassin's heart.

Demon was good at many things, but dealing with sobbing women had never been one of them. For a while he stood warily at the entrance to the alcove, darting glances along the empty hallway, then he slumped onto the bench opposite Zelda and watched her cry.

He had never seen the princess this broken, even after all the dangers they had overcome together. Her swollen eyes contrasted badly to the pallor of her face, and a thin trail of fluid ran from her nose to the top of her painted lips. The assassin watched the dignified, majestic face melt away as her make-up washed down it in two creeping rivulets.

The princess caught him looking and stared miserably back. "Just go," she whispered, "I don't want you to see this." Her voice sounded defeated, the tone laced with exhaustion.

"I promised the Valkyries I would stay with you," he said.

Grimacing, the princess attempted to collect herself, trying to wipe her eyes and cover her face at the same time. "I'm sorry," she began, "I'm not normally this weak. I don't like _feeling_ this weak."

_I know._ The words whispered their way through Demon's mind. _You are stronger than I will ever be._

"I won't ask you again, just promise me that one day, if we survive, you will tell me the truth." Her voice wavered through her hands as the last tear drops fell to leave a damp trail upon her dress.

"The truth?" Demon repeated softly. "The truth is that you have your army, you have your Hero, and you are ready to take back what is rightfully yours. You have won a great victory today and you should be happy, not weeping."

"Promise me, Demon." The plea in her voice could not be evaded and the assassin knew it.

His mouth jerked suddenly, and for a moment Zelda saw the inner turmoil which raged behind the mask. Then it was gone and Demon was once more in control.

"Is that…an order, princess?" he asked quietly, some trepidation afflicting his voice.

"Would you tell me if it was?"

Demon stiffened. "I-"

"No, of course it's not an order!" There was the tiniest trace of humour in Zelda's tone, despite the seriousness of their conversation. Her own defenses went up, forcing back the crying maiden and restoring a tranquil surface. "I may be stubborn, but I'm not a tyrant." She started to wipe her hands upon her dress, then paused as she noticed the smudged make-up on her fingers. "I'm also a mess, aren't I?"

"Never."

Zelda gave him a fragile smile realizing even as she realized that the assassin wasn't joking. He crossed his arms uncertainly in a way which made him seen much younger, much more vulnerable.

"You're a bad liar, Demon," she said. Taking the glove from her pocket, she used it to wipe some of the smudges from her face, and then tossed it into the assassin's lap. "Keep the bloody thing," she grumbled, "as penance."

000

Author's Note: Gabriel is back! New, improved, and with a foul mouth to boot! I know some of you were bugging me about him so I decided it was time to resurrect the pretty boy from his 20+ chapter exile. It was never supposed to be that long, but I am a little long-winded...

Tomorrow I go back to school and the real world, so this will probably be my last update for a while. I'm sorry that nothing too exciting happened, but plot takes more than a series of dramatic climaxes in a row, and I'm trying to actually move this story in the right direction. :-)

I do need some thoughts on the ZeLink interaction at the end. it was a difficult scene to write considering the events of the last couple chapters, and so I was wondering how appropriate Zelda's breakdown is. I'm not trying to play on gender stereotypes, I just can't imagine that the stress of the last 12 hours wouldn't catch up with her. She's had to be so strong in so many ways that I would find it strange if she wasn't emotionally affected. Demon internalizes everything, but Zelda is a different matter.

Celeborn00

P.S. Syzeria was commenting that The Wolfess and I tend to "mirror" each other's updates. Let that be a challenge to you Wolfess, as I must confess I'm eager to get to the heart of this black apple mystery. :-)


	66. Chapter 66

Chapter 66

There are some days which change the course of history, days which reverberate through the chords of time and force new melodies from the ethereal fingers. These days come, then pass, and those they involve must scramble to find their places, or risk being left behind.

For the people of Termina, it was the day they lost their Goddess, and were told to place their trust in a fugitive princess and a murderer. It was the day they learned that belief is dangerous, for there is always the chance that the object of that belief is a lie. It broke some of them, the ones too entrenched to change, and pushed others to abandon the Gods entirely. Some refused to believe the proclamations until they'd been to the city gaol and seen the gibbering wreck of their high priest. Yet most, inevitably, believed the stories their nobles told and began looking once more to Farore, Nayru, and Din for guidance.

It was not easy, but as the sun rose and fell over and over, as days turned to weeks, Termina forgot the pain of betrayal. War preparations consumed the time and minds of farriers, blacksmiths, farmers, and merchants alike, and both city and country buzzed with ambivalent emotions. There was much foreboding over the sorrow the war would bring, yet the excitement was undeniable. Prince Garret was arguably the best general in the history of Termina, and he held the absolute faith of the people.

It was harder for them to reconcile Demon to his new role as their hero. The shock of his vindication had come to close on the heels of his damnation, and most felt that new evidence might switch him back to villain at any moment. The assassin was as much an enigma to the people as he was to the nobles, and so it was to Zelda that they looked for hope. The beautiful, charismatic princess was a figure they could love, so they did, and consigned Demon to the shadows.

Zelda recognized the arrangement and resented it. Demon, of course, couldn't have been more relieved…

000

He stood in the middle of a small room with mirrors on four sides. He was Demon, or at least the figure in the room could have been Demon, but few outside of his close companions would have recognized him. The Festival of Time was only days away, and his costume was almost finished.

"Completely ravishing my lord! The court ladies won't stand a chance!"

Demon stared at his tailor for a moment while testing the flexibility of his costume. "Why would I care," he said finally, "about the attentions of the court ladies?" At first the assassin had hardly believed that Leon of all people was his tailor. At first he had thought it one of Garret's strange jokes, yet the man had quickly proven himself as competent with a needle and thread as he presumably was with a sword. He was creating the prince's costume as well, which made Demon suspect that Leon's irritating presence was actually supposed to be an honour.

The captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes travelling up and down the assassin's form. "Just the same, you're going to provide Garret and I with some formidable competition."

"Costume or not, no Terminian woman is going to forget who I am," Demon reminded the soldier. "Your pretty words won't change that."

"I think you misjudge our noblewomen," Leon smirked. He ducked under Demon's stare and repinned a seam. "The romantic fantasies of court ladies are not to be trifled with, especially when they involve handsome brooding heroes with tragic histories."

Instead of answering, Demon looked to the wooden mask in his hands and held it before his face. The harsh, colourful, features would have looked garish against his black coat, yet they suited his silver armor and cream hauburk perfectly. Fine mesh over the eyeholes turned his gaze a perpetual argent, not matter what colour his eyes were underneath.

"What is it you call this creature?" the assassin asked as he studied his reflection in a mirror.

"Fierce Deity. A minor god from the old legends." Leon smiled as he studied Demon's breeches with a practiced eye. "According to the songs he was nigh unbeatable in battle, but faithless as the wind in both his affections and loyalties."

Demon's mouth twisted. "A dark figure, plagued by violence, yet irresistible to the court ladies."

"Why yes my lord." Hands pausing halfway through a motion, the soldier looked up to meet his eyes. "That is the…uh…attraction of the costume."

"Who chose this costume?" Demon asked.

"Well…I did my lord." A certain wariness crept into Leon's tone.

"You did."

"Yes, my lord."

There was a short pause as Demon's eyes roasted the top of Leon's bowed head. His words, when he spoke, wavered between anger and amusement.

"May you burn in the Dark Realm," he growled, "forever."

Leon's scissors snipped and snapped as he considered the statement. A sliver of cloth wafted to the floor and he coaxed yet another pin into position, smiling inwardly as Demon's costume tightened around his muscular form. "Is there something wrong with looking one's best for the court ladies?" he asked innocently.

Demon's eyes hardened. "I'm not interested, Leon."

"In looking good? Or in women in general?"

"Captain!"

Leon froze. He tried hard to keep his eyes from crossing as they focused on the knife blade at his forehead. "My lord?" he managed.

The weapon withdrew a little as Demon leaned down to look his tailor in the eyes. "If you want to reach the Festival alive, I suggest you curb that tongue, cease your nattering, and stop calling me 'my lord'. You're not a half-wit."

The soldier nodded vigorously and wiped a red dot from his forehead. Unfortunately his newfound humility lasted only as long as the pause in conversation.

"I understand discretion is needed," Leon began, "especially when dealing with princesses, but-"

"Princesses?" A look of puzzled annoyance flashed across the assassin's face, "I thought we were discussing the noblewomen."

Leon sighed. "Obviously any romantic dalliances with the noblewomen would have to be concealed from the princess. I'm surprised you don't understand the necessity my lord."

"But I have nothing to conceal!" Demon was fitting the mask once again, but this time he poked himself in the eye while doing so. With an irritated hiss he pulled it from his head with such a violent motion that a tuft of hair came with it.

"Exactly, my lord." There was a cunning in Leon's gaze that was more fit for the bathhouse than the palace. "You catch on quickly."

"But I'm telling the truth!" Demon's voice shook with conviction.

Leon winked at him. "It's not me you have to convince! Save those fine words for the princess and I'm sure she will forgive you anything that possibly happens at the Festival!"

"Oh Goddesses." Mouth twisting into a fine line, the assassin scowled hard into the mirror. "Someone should have cut out your tongue years ago."

Demon's eyes widened when Leon actually nodded agreement. The captain was inspecting one of the symbols etched on the assassin's breastplate, but his concentration didn't seem to hamper his wit.

"It would make the world simpler," he began, "but also far more boring." He shot Demon a brilliant smile.

000

The assassin might have actually considered himself lucky to have only Leon if he'd been aware of Zelda's situation at the same moment. The preparation of her costume was being overseen by most of her bodyguard, including Selena, whose atrocious fashion sense was legendary. Within the confines of the princess's quarters a spectacle was taking place that reminded Zelda not so much of a dress fitting as a crowded tavern. The furnishings may have been too extravagant, and the crowd entirely female, yet the atmosphere had the same ferocious energy.

They gathered round her like so many crows, cackling and joking and throwing absurd suggestions at the small, intimidated seamstress adjusting the costume. Zelda, arms crossed on her chest, eyes boring in the full-length mirror, was trying unsuccessfully to ignore them. She seemed completely unperturbed, but if Demon had been present he would have said otherwise.

Although even the assassin wouldn't have guessed how completely embarrassed the princess was.

The costume had been a surprise from her bodyguard, its manufacturing carried out behind elaborate ruses and deceptions. At one point Zelda had been led into a room blindfolded and made to try on ten garments in a row, nine of them decoys. She had been measured countless times, fussed over and frowned at, and only now, days before the event, actually shown the costume. It was not the arrangement Zelda would have preferred, and as she studied herself in the mirror the princess deeply regretted leaving her choice of attire to Selena and her lackeys.

It was not a dress she could wear to the Festival. In fact it wasn't a dress the princess could wear anywhere public, even behind the anonymity of her mask. Zelda half-turned, grimacing as she studied the reflection in the mirror. The dress was little more than a nightgown for Goddesses's sake!

"May I ask who I am supposed to be?" she remarked with admirable steadiness.

Selena, who wore a look that showed she both recognized Zelda's discomfort and reveled in it, was the first to answer. "A great fairy of course." Her smile was all teeth.

Zelda poked her leg out of slit that reached to mid-thigh, and wiggled her toes experimentally. "Aren't great fairies generally unclothed in the legends?"

"Generally." The captain nodded approvingly at Zelda's reflection. "But we only came as close as was decently appropriate. Some things are still against the law even during the Festival." In a flash she'd grabbed a handful of the skirt and tugged the neckline down, causing the princess to gasp in surprise.

"Much too low!" Zelda squirmed against the tightness of the garment as she adjusted it back. Her guard laughed uproariously.

Selena's lip curled in arrogance. "Too high! You're not some pinched duchess with three squalling babes and a jealous husband!" She gave the dress another yank.

"I'm also not a drunken tavern wench!" Zelda muttered as she squirmed and pulled.

"Too high!" The Valkyries parroted behind her with beseeching eyes. "Too high!"

Zelda turned to glare at them. "You lot are a shame to ladies everywhere," she said primly.

Her authority was broken as Selena made another grab for her skirt and Zelda had to hop out of the way. The captain was grinning again, and the other women rallied around her enthusiasm. They advanced until the princess was pressed nervously against her own mirror, and then stood there, smirking, like tomcats around a fieldmouse.

"I hear the Lord Demon's costume is quite…stunning." Selena announced, "I can't wait to see it."

"I heard the sight alone is liable to make a woman fall in love," another Valkyrie spoke up.

"I think I already am in love." Selena drawled. "Those knives…"

"Captain!" Zelda reprimanded her sternly. "That's enough."

"But princess," Selena continued unabashed, "what if another woman tries to steal him?"

Zelda frowned. "He's not mine to have stolen."

From the horrified looks on the faces of her bodyguard, the princess ascertained that she'd said the wrong thing. They faltered back a step in confusion before surging up indignantly.

"He is too yours!" Keane's eyes flashed as she spoke.

"Like a ring on your finger!"

"Like a falcon on your arm!"

"His devotion awakens jealousy in all of us." The words were solemn even though Zelda knew Selena was all but laughing.

"It's unfair." Keane muttered.

"Are your memories so short?" There was a trace of defensiveness in Zelda's voice. "You all used to hate him!"

Selena smiled. "Oh we did"

"Did?" Zelda asked, a little taken back.

"No man that handsome could possibly be evil," Keane sighed.

Leaning closer to the princess, Selena turned a little so the other Valkyrie couldn't read her lips. "Keane managed to sneak a glimpse of the lord in costume." She whispered confidentially. "She's been a little different ever since."

"Really," Zelda murmered and gave a stern tug on her dress. She immediately gasped as she realized she'd tugged it down instead of up, and worked quickly to remedy the error. Colour blazed in her cheeks, a fiery red that directly contrasted the pale white of her attire.

"You will wear it then?" the captain asked hopefully.

"No!" Zelda adopted a firm stance that, although she did not seem to notice, bared much of her leg. "This dress is a disgrace Selena."

There was a fair bit of grumbling from her audience, along with a few betrayed glares and some shocked sputtering, but Selena quickly quieted them. "We thought you might say that," she said with a satisfied air, "so we took precautions. Seamstress!" She clapped her hands and the woman scurried from the room.

She was only gone a moment before she returned with another shift, this one a myriad of white and forest greens. Tiny vines and flowers traced their way across the bodice and skirt in confused layers of growth, adding splashes of vibrant colour. Zelda leaned in to inspect the dress as the seamstress brought it closer and the Valkyries waited for her reaction with bated breath.

"The embroidery is beautiful," Zelda admitted, "but I can see right through the material.

"Because you wear it over the other one!" Keane almost burst with excitement. "Put it on!"

Zelda paused, considering. The new layer would help cover the immodesty of her present attire, even it if was still the most scandalous thing she'd ever considered wearing to a public function. She'd almost convinced herself when another suspicion struck her. _Wait, _she thought,_ they planned this._

Eyes narrowing, the princess glared at her bodyguard, daring them to meet her gaze. Unfortunately they gazed back as the complete picture of innocence, with open expressions and child-like simplicity. Only Selena was having trouble with the façade, and only because she could barely suppress the laughter which racked her frame.

"I was only wearing half the costume?" Zelda asked.

"Our mistake princess." Selena gasped through her fit.

The princess carefully lifted the outer layer from her seamstress and held it against herself as she turned to the mirror. She uttered a soft, low noise, as if deep in thought, and made a few ever-so-subtle changes to her stance.

Behind her the Valkyries had begun to relax, their innocence melting into impish grins. So they were completely surprised when Zelda whipped back around to stare at them.

"You should know," she said, trying desperately to hide her own laughter. "I am not amused."

000

"You should know, I said, I am _not _amused." Zelda planted her fists on her hips, and contorted her face into a scowl. Eyebrows clenched and nose wrinkled she worked her features for all they were worth. So intent was she upon her expression that she seemed to forget entirely about keeping pace with Demon and stopped where she was.

The assassin rounded on her with his mouth twitching in amusement. "With a face like that," he remarked quietly, "I agree with Selena. A flashy dress might be your only chance at a husband."

"What?" Zelda reverted to coldly regal in an instant, only betrayed by the sparkle in her eye. "Are you mocking me, you...you common falcon?"

"Lord actually." Idly scratching an ear, the assassin smiled almost imperceptably. "Or are you questioning my honour, you...what was it...pinched duchess?"

Zelda puffed up like an angry cat. "Pinched! You! You!" She sputtered impotently. "I am not amused!"

"I know," Demon said carefully, "I heard the first time."

That was too much for both of them. Zelda almost fell over she was laughing so hard, and Demon had tears in his eyes as he coughed into his glove. A passing servant shook his head morosely at the breach in decorum, but neither princess nor assassin noticed him. They were, for the moment, completely caught up in their own world, laughing at a joke only they shared.

As she laughed, Zelda studied her companion intently, watching for any hint of the pain that haunted him. It was a habit she had manifested during their long journey together, and never seemed able to break, not matter how many times he laughed, no matter how many days she went without seeing the rage in his eyes. She feared that one day it would return, and both accepted and resented the fact that Demon would never be entirely free of it.

Since their strained confrontation on the day of the duel their relationship had changed. Boundaries had been formed between them that could not be breached, subjects they no longer discussed and empty silences where questions might have been. Most of their conversation was now on planning the coming war, or trivial things like the Festival of Time or the pettiness of Zelda's bodyguards. Even so, the princess did not really regret the change. Demon seemed almost happy, and that was worthy of a much greater sacrifice than Zelda's curiousity.

She tapped a foot against the cool stone and smiled as he finally collected himself, tempted, as she always was, to ask one of the many forbidden questions. Her pride would not let her, and yet the stark reminder of their truce killed the silliness in the princess's mood. It seeped away from her like water through a sieve, leaving a different woman in its wake.

"But I am serious about that dress," she murmured as they continued walking, "I will not be made into another Maiden."

Zelda saw the assassin glance at her, a flash of blue, and knew her words surprised him. For a moment only the sweep of silken skirts was heard, punctuated by some lonely bird in the nearby garden.

"That is not their intent princess. Your guard believe they are doing you an honour."

"My guard," Zelda replied dryly, "are a bunch of gossiping jackdaws. They flutter, and they squawk, and they preen, and yet their biggest concern is that you have never given any of them a second glance.

"I'm not Garret," Demon said quickly, perhaps too quickly.

"No, you're not," she said. Suddenly they were outside in the sunshine, and the world exploded into brazen colour. Both princess and assassin were forced to squint as their eyes tried to compensate, only to be left blinking at sunbursts moments later when they climbed into the waiting coach.

"But they've forgiven you," the princess carried on, tying back the drapes to give a little light, "and that is the important thing."

"They have no choice," Demon grumbled, "we are their only hope."

"They have a choice," the princess reprimanded sharply, "and they have chosen_ you."_ She poked two fingers into his chest in a manner which brooked no argument. "So stop complaining."

The carriage rolled noisily across the paving stones, drawing ever closer to the gate which led out of the Hidden Palace. A tantalizingly green scent swept through the coach interior and was gone, leaving only the memory of sap and blossoms in its passage. Zelda waved solemnly at a gardener weeding a patch of roses, and laughed when he ducked out of site.

"I must have scared him," she said, and was immediately taken by another thought. "There can't possibly be enough servants to water that entire garden, but it stays green even without any rain!"

"Teiresius says there is a spring under the Clocktower which flows to the Garden Quarter." Demon leaned over to peer through the window.

"How convenient," Zelda murmured.

Demon turned to stare at her. "How are the gardens in Castletown watered, princess?"

Zelda started to answer, then paused and furrowed her brow. "I," she said finally, "have no idea."

For some reason Zelda felt vaguely guilty, and she snuck a glance over to the assassin who was now back to staring out the window. She had meant the glance to be subtle, but instead it caught and held as Demon turned to face her again.

"Princess?" he asked softly.

Instead of answering she leaned back against the seat and fiddled with the pearl in her earring. A brief shadow passed over the carriage as it swept through the gate, preceding the dozen cavalry who fell into position as an escort. Their visored helmets sparkled in the dazzling sunlight as they created a gold and dun barrier between the carriage and the rest of Clocktown.

The two companions waited in silence for a while as the city rolled by. Some townsfolk paused in their tasks and cheered, but as there were no banners to identify those within the carriage, most just ignored them. For all the people knew, the occupants could be anyone from the King himself to Lord Diego, and so Zelda could hardly blame them for their apathy.

If not for the fact that they passed the remains of the Temple of the Maiden, the journey would have been entirely unremarkable. As it was, both Zelda and Demon were astounded at the pace at which the temple was being destroyed, despite the problems the project had caused for Clocktown's workforce. Many had refused to work on the project, and even among those willing to undertake it, there were those who believed it was desecration.

Large piles of rusted metal glittered like ponds around the circular ruins of the temple walls. Inside those same walls, workers swarmed ant-like across the pale sandstone, their chisels singing a staccato racket in the hot air. It was the King's order that every symbol of the Maiden—ever letter, every pattern—be removed from the stone blocks before they were reused, and so a fine cloud of grey rock powder hung solemnly over the site. One hammer stroke at a time, the two hundred carefully etched laws were being pounded into dust.

Demon opened the carriage door to order a halt. He closed it quickly, and yet the swirl of motion brought with it the acrid grit of stone. Zelda sneezed.

"I wish we'd brought Alexander," she said. Rubbing her nose daintily with a gloved hand she tried to prevent a second sneeze. It didn't work.

Demon handed her a handkerchief, and she managed to shoot him a puzzled look before he body was wracked by three spasms in a row. Tears formed unbidden in her eyes, and she tried to wipe them away, but instead poked herself as she sneezed again.

Sensing he had been unwise, Demon banged a fist against the roof of the carriage and they began to move once more. Slowly the temple receded into the distance, its rock dust aura settling out of the air into the companion's clothes and the carriage interior. Demon wisely did not speak, although he did not sneeze either…

Which was possibly unwise.

"Ev-" Zelda tried to speak, but instead opted to choke back a sneeze. She clenched her teeth in frustration and felt grit between them. "Even in death that woman still irritates me!"

"Alexander was busy today." There was an undertone in Demon's words which made Zelda examine his face suspiciously, yet she found nothing. "He and Teiresius are catching spiders."

"Why?" The princess dabbed at her eyes carefully.

Demon looked away, uncomfortable "I don't know."

"Yes you do."

She sneezed again before she could press her attack, but not before she'd seen the flash of guilt in Demon's eyes. When she'd recovered herself she glared at her companion with narrowed eyes. "Why are they catching spiders?"

Demon sighed and shifted slightly in his seat. "To release in the Moonlord's cell I believe."

There was a short silence and then Zelda laughed, then sneezed, then laughed, then sneezed. She shook with such violence that Demon was readying himself to catch her if she fell of her seat. She didn't, but it was a near thing.

"The poisonous variety?" she eventually managed.

"Alexander wouldn't…although Teiresius might." The assassin said, prompting a new bout of laughter from the princess. "But please don't mention it to Alexander, he swore me to secrecy."

"Of course he did!" The delight in Zelda's eye faded a little as she looked to the now-damp cloth in her hand. "Did you want this back?"

Demon studied the handkerchief for a moment, then shook his head. "Not really," he said.

"Good," she said, and dropped it to the floor of the carriage. "I am impressed Demon, that you carried one in the first place."

"It was Leon's idea," He grumbled, "I think they're useless."

Zelda raised an eyebrow. She stared at him, he stared at her. Slowly blank incomprehension gave way to chagrin.

"Except sometimes," he amended gruffly.

000

"Welcome! Welcome!" Kashi's deep base voice vibrated in the doorway as he pulled both Zelda and Demon into one massive hug. In a much quieter voice he added, "I see this time you've brought friends."

The princess mouthed a reply, the best response she could give considering the airless state of her lungs. Demon coughed, and felt something give in his back.

After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, the big innkeeper released them from his stranglehold, and waited, beaming, in the entrance to his home. He seemed larger than Zelda remembered him, and yet she couldn't decide whether he had actually grown or her memory had been inadequate. He did seem happier than during their journey together through the mountains, and she suspected the reason for his joy was the slim form standing beside him. Katie slipped an arm through his, smiling with all the force of her boisterous personality.

"The King demanded that we take precautions," Zelda sighed as she followed Kashi's gaze to the soldiers in the street. "I tried to dismiss them to the nearest tavern, but they seemed horrified at the idea. It was all I could do to convince them to remain in the street."

"Of course," Kashi rumbled, "I'm amazed you two are even allowed out of the palace! But come in already, before they change their minds."

The princess and assassin followed him through the door and down a short corridor, marveling at the monstrous shadow their guide cast behind him. In a moment they entered a larger chamber and stood awkwardly together, studying their surroundings.

"It's not what I had," Kashi said with a trace of melancholy, "but it's a start."

The dwelling was much humbler than Zelda's rooms in the palace, but that was to be expected. A table stood in one corner of the room, a few chairs in another, with a vase of delicate flowers precariously perched on a shelf.

"I'm staying with an uncle in the old city." Katie's voice followed hard on the heels of her lover's. "At least until…"

She glanced at Kashi, he glanced at her, then, simultaneously, their eyes turned towards Zelda. "We're getting married!" Katie burst out.

She shone with such excitement that the princess couldn't help but laugh. Suddenly, both Terminians were talking at once, explaining the circuitous route that had taken to the decision, the troubles along the way, and everything in between. Kashi, of course, was more reserved, and spent most of his time trying to downplay his role in Katie's story. But Katie, of course, would have none of it.

"He's so romantic," she babbled happily, "although you wouldn't know it by looking at him!" Kashi grunted, as she poked him in the stomach. "It took him three whole bottles of wine to muster up the courage, but he asked me. And I…". She paused, glowing. "I said yes."

Zelda glanced at Kashi, whose expression was a raging battle between embarrassment and quiet contentment. Gone was the underlying bitterness that she remembered. It had been replaced by something profound.

The time went well enough, although the awkwardness between Demon and the innkeeper was still present. Their relationship had been forged fighting moblin on the mountain slopes, and somehow didn't translate into a more relaxed setting. The assassin congratulated the engaged couple wholeheartedly, and yet he quickly lapsed into a characteristic silence that forced Zelda and Katie to carry the conversation.

The princess did her best, yet she could see the nervousness in Katie's tone and a few of her wilder comments. There were a lot of rumours circulating in the city, and the former maid was bound to have heard some of them. Zelda's reputation had grown beyond manageable proportions, even beyond what the princess herself had expected, and she could see the disconcertion in Katie's eyes. It would be hard, the princess admitted to herself, to balance the friend you know against the aura of the legend.

But it was a good meeting anyway. Good for Zelda and Demon to get away from the palace. Good for Kashi and Katie to know they had not been forgotten, despite being left in Silva. Stories were swapped back and forth across the table as the events of the past months were recounted. Just as Zelda apologized for abandoning Kashi, the innkeeper himself begged forgiveness for his role in unmasking Demon. Both were forgiven as the strange series of events were too convoluted to merit accusations.

At one point the men left to talk to the guard captain stationed outside, and Katie leaned over the table to grab Zelda's hand. The intensity of her grip surprised the princess, as did the sudden warning in her eyes.

"I don't care whether you're princess, hero, or Goddess. I'm not letting you take Kashi away."

Zelda frowned. "I...I don't understand."

"When you leave to fight the Aratians." Katie voice was hard. "I lost him once, I'm not losing him again."

There was a moment of silence as the princess stared at her, selecting and discarding possible answers. It was an odd moment. Zelda didn't know why she was being held responsible for Kashi's possible departure, or what Katie was threatening her with. She could only try to comfort the woman as best she could.

"I don't force anyone to go," she said finally, "least of all my friends."

Katie's grip softened, yet the motion didn't reach her eyes.

Later, once the men had returned, Zelda found it hard to believe Katie had said anything at all. The woman was a flurry of excited motion, explaining the importance of getting married during the Festival. She seemed genuinally disappointed when the princess told her that she and the assassin probably wouldn't be attending, and lamented their absence several times during the evening. Zelda found herself wishing she could come, but knew that assassin and she were tied up in the festivities of the nobles.

Then they were back at the door, saying their farewells in the tentative way of those who know their parting might be final. Kashi gave the two Hylians another crushing hug, and Katie went so far as to kiss a surprised Demon on the forehead. When she hugged Zelda she whispered a number of rushed words into her ear, too fast for the princess to understand.

The ride back to the palace was quiet. Demon rode on the front of the carriage with the driver, while Zelda dozed upon one of the seats inside. She dreamed that she was floating across the sky, dodging moonbeams in the warm night. The moon in her dream was a glowing triangle, yet that seemed to be no strange thing. Her hair was undone, the wind was warm, and there was no such thing as a Princess of Destiny, or a Hero of Time.

Author's Note:

Hey all,

Well The Wolfess uploaded so I am going to as well. I've actually had four chapters ready for quite a while, but I'm very unhappy with the last one and it's going to require some work before it's "publishable". Apparently I really suck at being romantic. :-)

As for this chapter, it's a bit of a different feel from the previous couple. I'm not sure if it works well in the larger context of the story, but it was interesting to write and shows (in my opinion) some good character development. I know it's a tad light-hearted considering the somber, brooding nature of "Forgotten Demons" in general, but hey, give me a break. Even the best of us have our silly days.

I don't know if I mentioned this in my last update, but in real life I'm in the process of becoming heavily involved in the university newspaper at my education of study. :-) I never thought I'd make a good journalist considering my creative writing bias, but I'm actually really enjoying being able to write about reality (and getting "published" every week). So far I've interviewed cheerleaders, reviewed plays, and even got shot at by police officers (training exercise)! Life is good. :-)

Celeborn00


	67. Chapter 67A

Hey everybody!

Sorry for the long wait again, I'll explain more at the bottom in the Author's Note. What I should mention here is that I've decided to split Chapter 67 (The Festival of Time) into three chapter segments (67A, 67B, 67C) instead of making it three separate chapters. This doesn't really have any practical consequences, but it does (I think) better reflect the connected nature of these chapters, and prevent me from having to upload one massive 50 page chapter. All three take place over the course of the same night, so it seems to make sense.

Hope you enjoy this! Remember to R&R!

Chapter 67A

The mask felt strange upon Demon's face. It didn't bother him exactly, but the alien weight was a constant reminder of something...different. The restriction to his vision would hinder Demon's fighting ability, but the assassin was more worried about his other problems. Namely the problem walking along beside him, chattering happily at the prospect of women, wine, and dancing.

Leon was dazzlingly arrayed in a sequined coat that would have made a Gerudo blush; his meticulously greased hair gleaming in the lamplight. Calf-skin boots, easily worth a year's wages for many of Termina's citizens, adorned his feet. The soldier almost pranced at Demon's side as they strode down the long corridor towards Garret's apartment.

"Remember to dance with an ugly one every five rounds or so," the man continued, "It'll do wonders for your reputation. But don't make it too obvious or they'll catch on." He paused and frowned. "And don't dance with the same woman twice unless you're planning to propose on the spot. And _never_," he wagged a finger in Demon's face, "never complement her mask!"

"I'm not planning to dance."

Leon stumbled. "Not dance? Of course not! And I'm becoming the next high priest of the Maiden!"

"I'm serious, Leon." Demon's face was impassive. "I never learned how."

"That's unfortunate," the soldier conceded, "although I must admit I'm somewhat relieved. Less competition...although it's nothing personal you understand."

Ahead of them, a bronzed, red-haired Gerudo swept into view and hastily readjusted his armor. His face broke into a wide grin as he noticed the two companions.

"Ahh, the deity and the butterfly." His face momentarily clouded. "You're late."

"So are you." Leon pointed as he watched the Gerudo tug his costume into position. "And I'm not a butterfly."

The other man yanked roughly at a gauntlet and cursed as a piece of the inlay broke in his hands. "It was the women. I've been ready since sundown." There were some indignant words uttered within the chamber he had exited, but the Gerudo ignored them. "And if you're not a butterfly then what are you?"

"A prince," Leon replied haughtily, striking a pose.

"Hah!" The man's garish red beard perfectly matched the torch behind him as he laughed. "Well I'm a king, a Gerudo king, and I have no time for princelings."

"You have much more _interesting_ things to worry about, don't you my king?" Demon blinked as Keane appeared in the doorway of the chamber, also dressed in the traditional garb of the Gerudos. He immediately began an intensive study of the ceiling tile, in direct contrast to Leon's intensive study of Keane herself.

The Gerudo king smiled. "May I present Nabooru, a member of my harem. And might I say, Mr. Butterfly, that this harem idea was the best one you've ever had!" He beckoned and Keane and five other women swayed out into the hallway, all bedecked in the shocking purple and red of the Gerudo nation.

Hard-pressed as he was, Leon managed to tear his eyes away and meet the man's gaze. "I'm not a butterfly," he repeated stubbornly, "I'm a prince. The flighty prince Gared of the ancient land of Termino." Pulling a silk handkerchief from his sleeve he dabbed daintily at his face. "I trust you've heard of him?"

"Prince Gared of Termino?" the Gerudo sputtered indignantly, but even he couldn't help but laugh. "You upstart little...I dress nothing like that!"

"My pardon my lord, but I don't understand," Leon said innocently.

Garret rolled his eyes. "Let's go," he grumbled, "the sooner we get to the green, the sooner I get this fool out of my sight."

With a dramatic flourish of his cape he began to move, forcing Demon and the harem to fall into step behind him. Leon jumped forward to the prince's side and began a dramatic strut that lasted all of five steps before Garret shouldered him into a wall.

"I'll have you beheaded for that," Leon muttered, but even he had the good sense to spend the rest of the trip in his proper place behind his prince.

Demon found himself at the back of the group, next to Keane. He glanced at the noblewoman, only to find her already openly studying him. With a jerk he looked away, and a moment of awkward hesitation ensued.

"How much is he paying you?" Demon finally asked.

Keane grinned. "Garret promised us five hundred rupees apiece. But I would have done it for free, just to see the look on people's faces."

For a moment, Demon pondered the garish jewelry in the brilliant red of her dyed hair, the heavy makeup, and the revealing nature of her attire. Unlike Leon he didn't let her eyes travel to her bare navel, but Keane gave him a wicked smile anyway. "Does Zelda know?" he asked.

The Valkyrie smirked. "She will, very soon."

Their conversation was cut short as the company walked out of a gate and into the torch-lit night. One woman stumbled over an ill-set paving stone and Leon reached out a hand to steady her. All paused for a moment and stared out over the crowd of fantastical creatures and legendary figures laughing and drinking upon the lawn.

What had been the martial field of the East Quarter had become a scene from a legend, a great dance floor ringed by hundreds of torches and an army of musicians. The low tones of instruments mingled with the conversations' hum and filled the warm summer night with the promise of dancing. At intervals around the lawn hung both the Terminian and Hylian flags and a great banner bearing the Triforce symbol hung over the banquet table at the opposite end of the field.

Garret glanced over his shoulder at his followers, and, even in the dark, the sparkle in his eye was obvious. "Welcome to the Festival of Time," he said, and took off towards a gap in the circle.

The six women followed at his heels, pleading with their "king" to allow them the favour of announcing him. Leon hesitated, ready to give chase, when Demon caught his shoulder. The two men watched the prince reach the gate and heard the flurry of trumpets as he and his harem entered and were swallowed into the shocked throng. Then, with one last flash of red and purple, they were lost into the crowd of indignant ladies and fascinated nobles.

"I always give away my best ideas," Leon breathed, and shook his head ruefully.

Demon wasn't fooled. "You didn't have three thousand rupees," the assassin muttered, "but you knew Garret did."

Leon started, and shot Demon a sideways glance. "I always forget you're smarter than you look," he admitted. He was about to say something else, but they had reached the gate and the trumpets sang greeting.

A man dressed as a bullfrog sprang from the crowd and began pronouncing titles with a flourish. "I present to you Lord Shimmer of Aurora! The most beautiful man to ever grace the soil of Termina!" he crowed. With another gesture, the trumpets sprang to life once again, engaging in a complicated melody that ended in an ear-straining crescendo.

"And now, I give to you, the spirit of a thousand battles, and," his voice fell to a suggestive rasp, "a thousand lovers! Fierce Deity!"

Demon leaned in towards Leon. "If that title was another of your ideas, I'm going to rip your throat out. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," the captain replied as he waved to a pretty blonde in the crowd. "But the Lord Shimmer is busy at the moment, could you perhaps kill me after the dancing?" A moment later he was at the woman's side, and Demon was left standing alone at the entrance, his mask hiding the beginnings of a smile.

"You also are smarter than you look, Shimmer," he murmured to himself, "especially the way you look tonight."

Nodding to those fragments of the assembly that were still staring at him, the assassin stepped away from the gate and onto the green. He skirted the edge of the crowd, feelingly sudden lost amidst the festivities. A sea of masks, a sea of brilliant, magnificent colour stretched out before him, yet the spectacle was lost on Demon. A sense of foreboding replaced his good humour as he studied the crowd engrossed in the revelry. He knew he could not match their excitement.

The assassin didn't know what he'd expected. He was an outsider here in Termina, unfamiliar with the customs and the people. He was also one of the few who knew how unlikely it was that Termina would survive the coming war, and how important his own actions would be in improving that likeliness. Demon didn't even know why he'd come except...

"Goddesses," he heard himself breathe.

She had floated out from amidst a crowd of noblewomen, instantly recognizable even behind her pale mask. Hair flickering in the gleam of torchlight, body sheathed in elegant simplicity, she was more beautiful than any memory. Demon swallowed hard and felt...he didn't know what he felt. It was a mixture of things, some old, some new, some painful, some not so. An orchid ornamented one side of her mask, and the assassin knew it was the same sky blue as Zelda's eyes.

A servant wandered over and offered Demon a glass of wine from his tray, having to ask him twice before the warrior answered with a mute shake of his head. Despite the rebuff, the man stayed at Demon's side.

"I don't wish to bother you, my lord," he began quietly, "but two different maidens wish to engage your services for the first dance. I have been ordered to convey your response."

Hope blossomed within Demon as he dared to consider the possibility, yet he forced it away and cursed himself for hoping. He could not dance with her, not when such a small act would bring such great temptation. With one last longing glance in Zelda's direction, he turned to face the servant.

"Which maidens?" he asked with all the detachment he could muster.

The servant paused for a moment as he searched the crowd. "The one dressed as a fox who happens to be staring at you," he said.

Demon followed his gaze and immediately recognized Selena. "And the other?" he asked as the Valkyrie blew him a kiss.

"The one dressed as a dancing girl from one of our dingier taverns."

Confused, Demon scanned the crowd and saw Keane waving at him. She was only visible for a moment before her circle of male admirers closed in once more.

Demon turned towards the servant, who was looking at him expectantly. "I don't know how to dance," the assassin admitted. He tried to look embarrassed as the other man studied him.

"A wise choice, my lord," the servant replied, bowing with impressive decorum.

Demon snorted as the man disappeared into the crowd and took a sip from a glass he hadn't realized he was holding. Selena or Keane. A choice no man should have to make, like being caught between a stalfos and a swarm of flaming keese. He shivered and drained the rest of his glass in one swallow.

The smooth tones of music interrupted his reverie and caused a rush of excitement across the assembly on the lawn. The dancing was about to begin and all scurried to find the ideal partner for the first round. Everywhere unlikely pairs formed: Zora and rabbit, gleeman and ranch-girl, priest and Gerudo, and many more. The lawn resembled a fever dream as characters from a thousand stories ebbed and flowed in a swirling pattern of colour and costume.

At the sound of the first chord, Demon had melted back into the shadows, leaving the circle of torches and therefore the reach of Keane and Selena, who had come marching across the lawn towards his former position. Cursing his bright silver armor, he retreated to the banquet tables and began filling a plate. Surely he would be safe under the pretense of eating, surely the women would find other prey...

"Have you heard the legend of the Kokiri?" a voice asked.

Demon looked down to see a feminine hand gripping his arm, and he turned to face its owner. A small woman dressed entirely in forest green stared back at him, strands of small golden flowers woven into her dark hair.

"They're immortal," she continued, "protected by the Goddesses from sorrow, from evil, even from the effects of age." She paused, and lifted a finger to trace the blue slashes upon his mask. "They love to dance."

The assassin backed up a half-step and muttered something unintelligible. Feeling like a rabbit among wolfos, Demon fought the urge to reach for his sword. He was about to turn and run when salvation appeared from an unlikely source.

"Unhand him, Loraine!" Selena yelled as she appeared out of the crowd. "If he won't dance with me he won't dance with anyone!"

The kokiri whirled, her demeanor changing from sultry to outraged in an instant. "I saw him first!" she argued, "It's my right!"

Selena's pointy fox ears quivered. "We'll see about that!" In an instant she'd maneuvered herself between the two of them, inadvertently shoving the tip of her perfumed fox tail in Demon's face. "Go find yourself another partner, Loraine," she hissed, "this beauty's mine."

Grabbing Demon's arm she tried to pull him onto the lawn, but the assassin held his ground. She kept struggling for a few moments before realizing he wasn't going to move, and then she threw up her hands in exasperation.

"I don't know how to dance," Demon reiterated, "And no one," his voice grew menacing, "is going to make me."

"Well I need a partner," Selena matched him tone for tone, "and I've chosen you."

"Is there no one else?" the assassin ventured incredulously.

"My Lady," another voice broke the tension between them. "I humbly request this dance." Both Selena and Demon started and turned to face a nervous-looking bear. For a moment no one spoke.

"Russ?" Demon finally asked.

The bear nodded. "I apologize for interrupting your...discussion, but the dance is about to start."

"N-" Selena began, but was immediately interrupted.

"She's all yours, Russ" Demon growled. Selena whirled towards the assassin, about to disagree, and saw something in his eyes that made her swallow her words. "There's always the second round," she threatened instead, and allowed Russ to lead her out onto the green.

Demon sighed, closing his eyes as if to shut out the source of his frustration. As far as he was concerned, the Festival of Time was already a nightmare, and the first dance had barely started. Why had he come again? The assassin could barely remember. Zelda had asked him to come, that's why, but why had he agreed? He did not belong here in this world of costumes and intricate dances, and only the manipulation of others had led to his attendance. Really, why had he come?

Demon looked out across the lawn and watched his reason sweep into view, floating gracefully along beside the red-haired Gerudo king. She looked happy, too happy in his opinion, and the knowledge burned like acid in his gut. The assassin watched as the dance began and the music drove the two royals together, but was forced to look away when Garret leaned in and whispered something in the princess's ear. A rush of white-hot rage ran through him, yet it was quickly replaced by sorrow.

Demon turned back to the banquet table and the plate he had been filling in an effort to distract himself. The vision of Zelda dancing wavered before his eyes, taunting him. He tried to ignore it, tried to tell himself that he was weak, tried to focus on the food, but found he could not. The assassin almost turned back towards the progressing dance, but stopped halfway.

Instead he walked out beyond the torches, and tried to fight down the turmoil within himself.

Zelda kept dancing, before his eyes, inside his mind. She was younger now, nineteen, and it was the first anniversary of her coronation. Demon remembered that party because of how nervous he'd been, how many weeks he'd spent practicing before he'd learned the steps to the complicated dances. He remembered his joy when Zelda had grabbed his hand and led him onto the floor for the first dance, and his pride when he performed it flawlessly. He'd danced all night, danced with every woman who'd attended, yet it was the first dance he'd always remembered.

_They're becoming one_, Demon realized, clenching his fists in frustration. _I can't keep them apart, the memory and..._. He strained his eyes to pick Zelda out of the crowd of dancers. Her white mask seemed to turn his way for a moment, even though the assassin knew he was too far away to tell.

"She was waiting, you know."

Demon hadn't heard the approaching footsteps, and so he was surprised to find Leon suddenly beside him. Either the man was quieter than Demon gave him credit for, or the assassin had been more preoccupied than he wanted to admit.

"You should be dancing," Demon replied. "Where is your partner?"

Leon ignored him. "It seemed to me that she was avoiding Garret. Only once she was sure no one else was coming," he glanced at Demon, "did she accept the prince."

"Are you Lord Shimmer or Prince Gared?" Demon asked. "I can't remember."

"It depends who wants to know." Leon's grin disappeared as quickly as it had come. "Can you really not dance?"

Demon shifted, rubbing his gauntlets together uneasily. No answer was given, and so the two men turned their attention back to the lawn. Couples circled and spun in a slow, yet elaborate display of skill, perfectly matching the underlying rhythms of the music.

"You should be among them," the assassin said after a long pause

Leon grunted. "My time will come. There are many pretty women in that field, and many dances to be had before this night ends."

"So why waste any of them to come talk to me?"

"Because Keane threatened to rip my throat out if I didn't," Leon admitted. "Alas I have a weakness for beautiful and violent women." He hesitantly placed a bejeweled hand on Demon's shoulder. "Just swear to me that you will dance with the princess at least once tonight and ensure your sanity and my health."

"I will swear no such thing," Demon's voice grew rough as he answered.

"Of course not!" Leon sighed, exasperated. "Leave me at Keane's mercy then! But I'll tell you this, my lord Demon," he began edging away, "if I knew that angel had been wanting me as a partner, I'd be the happiest man this side of the Great Ocean. Don't ignore destiny when it calls." The soldier turned and walked back through the torches towards the banquet table, his scintillating jacket conforming to indignantly straight shoulders.

Demon watched him go, any emotion hidden behind his mask, and then reverted his gaze back to the dancing. He wondered if Selena had actually wanted to dance with him, or to drag him back to Zelda. _Are they all plotting together? _he wondered. He shivered at the thought.

The music ended and a sudden stillness encased the lawn. Couples froze, staring into each other's eyes and trying to interpret their meanings. A few were breathing hard and a few seemed embarrassed, but overall the dance seemed to have gone very, very well. Many women reached up to give their partner a kiss on the cheek and exchanged whispered pleasantries before moving regretfully into the crowd. Remembering Leon's warning, Demon noted that only a few couples seemed intent on staying together for the second round.

This time the nobles were given only a few moments to secure partners before the music began, and more people were left on the outskirts to talk or retreat to the banquet tables. The assassin watched Leon approach the blonde maiden from the entrance and pull her onto the floor, at the same time noting Garret's advance towards Keane. All across the lawn requests were made and acceptance given...well mostly. The assassin squinted at a disturbance on the far side where a shiekah was trying to flee from a pudgy man dressed in forest green. The dance was already beginning, and yet the woman disrupted couple after couple as she shoved past them on her way across the floor.

Demon recognized something about the man chasing her, yet could not place it until the noble was nearly halfway across the lawn. Then he stiffened.

It was Marquis Diego, disguised, apparently, as the Hero of Time.

An inch of steel appeared before Demon could stop himself, but he closed his eyes and forced it back into a hidden sheath. Diego was a fat pig, his stupidity recognized by all, but he didn't deserve death. At least not death at Demon's hand. In fact, the assassin's second reaction was to smile, his eyes suddenly brighter.

"Not the Hero I would have chosen" he whispered to no one in particular, "but then neither am I."

The night passed slowly. Demon wandered around the edges of the torchlight, retreating to the buffet table every few dances. A few women tried to draw him onto the green, but with each refusal the frequency of their requests decreased until he was left almost entirely alone. From his vantage in the darkness the assassin watched and waited, studying friends and strangers alike.

He saw Russ and Selena whirl past in a haze of fur and wondered if they realized how close they were dancing. Yet the question was forgotten a moment later when Leon and Keane appeared, staring into each other's eyes as if everyone else had ceased to exist. Demon winced as they bumped into a massive Goron and were forced to make a hasty retreat into the crowd.

The Goron's partner, a haughty-looking fairy, shook her fist at the escaping couple, shouting something that was lost in the music long before it reached Demon. Yet the assassin could tell by the shocked reactions of those around her that it was decidedly acerbic.

With a resounding series of chords the dance ended, and the lawn collapsed into disarray as all rushed to find new partners. Servants waded into the mix with trays of refreshments for those in need, while others replaced torches on the perimeter that had burned themselves out. Demon adjusted his mask to a more comfortable position, turning away from the light.

He froze, a white figure appearing as his eyes adjusted to the night. Blinking, one hand still poised on the edge of his mask, he stared across the twenty paces separating him from Zelda. It was a definitively awkward moment, and the assassin's sudden inability to speak didn't help matters.

The princess moved forward the way a child would approach a feral cat. Step by step she closed the distance between them until she and Demon were close enough to touch, then stopped. She looked hesitant, as if unsure whether any further movement would send Demon scrambling backwards into the night. Demon readied himself to go scrambling backwards into the night, then reluctantly suppressed the urge.

"I'm not Selena, I'm not going to tackle you," Zelda soothed. She placed both hands on the front of her dress, smoothing it lightly as she spoke.

The assassin remained silent. It seemed like the best option.

"But I am in need of a partner." Demon could see the pale gleam of moonlight in her eyes. It showed him the hope wavering in their depths. "Shall we dance, Lord Demon?"

"I can't dance." He turned away so she wouldn't recognize his lie.

Zelda sighed. "That doesn't matter to me so much as our reputation. The nobles see me dancing upon the lawn and you sulking in the shadows, and they spread rumours as fast as they can invent them."

"Let them talk," Demon grumbled, facing her, "they know nothing."

"One dance would end the greater part of their gossip." Zelda held out a gloved hand, embroidered ivy appearing grey in the shadow. "Would it truly be so hard?"

_No,_ Demon thought, _and yes._ His mind drifted and he felt the princess' hand in his, pulling him across Hyrule Castle's greatest hall in front of an assembly of shocked courtiers. It was the anniversary of her coronation, and she was more beautiful than any girl he'd ever seen. The music started and they...

The assassin blinked. The music had started, and the woman before him was indeed beautiful, but they were in Termina, not Hyrule, and she had lost her throne.

"Are you well, Demon?" Distracted by her worry, Zelda dropped the honorific 'lord'.

"Of course," the assassin breathed, "of course."

The princess studied him suspiciously for a moment, but quickly gave up on trying to read his mask. "Just one dance, that's all I ask of you."

"I can't." Demon's voice was as cold as he could make it. "You ask too much."

Zelda stiffened. "You act as if you are scared of me. You hide in the shadows, brooding from afar, and fleeing every time I so much as glance at you. One would think we were mortal enemies not..." She trailed off, unsure of what word to choose.

Demon studied her and knew why he was afraid. His eyes travelled from the pale cheeks, to the thick golden hair and pointed ears, and saw them in a thousand memories that this Zelda could never share. Yet the temptation was so strong. One dance, Zelda had said, only one dance. What was the harm?

"I," Demon began, then caught himself. "Garret will dance with you. Goddesses princess, any man in that circle will dance with you!" He paused. "Just let me be."

The assassin winced as he heard the hollowness in his own words, and saw Zelda crumple a little under their burden. "But I don't want to dance with Garret," she said faintly. "I just thought...but I see that I was being foolish."

She looked so frail in that moment, so vulnerable, that Demon reached out to her before he could stop himself. His gauntleted hand grazed the flowers woven into her costume as it travelled up her arm and came to rest on her shoulder. "It wasn't foolish," he said.

His hand was only there a moment before he removed it, and yet the gratitude in Zelda's eyes was unmistakable. The assassin realized then how much his words had hurt her and fought against his own ambivalent reaction to that knowledge.

"Ah princess, I see you finally caught him!" Demon and Zelda turned to see Garret barreling towards them with Keane in tow. "I take it the next dance shall be a legendary one!"

Zelda smiled and shed her vulnerability as fast as it had overcome her. Demon glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, impressed by her control.

"I fear the Lord Demon does not dance," she said, "and I hardly wish to force him!" She laughed as if the idea were absurd, and Demon was suddenly glad that Selena wasn't within earshot.

Taken aback, Garret looked almost indignant. "I know few men who would turn down such a partner," he marveled. The prince immediately brightened as another though struck him. "Then perhaps you and the Lord Demon would join us for a sojourn into the city? I grow tired of all this formality."

"The city?" Zelda asked, confused.

"That's where the real fun is," the prince explained, unhooking his arm from Keane's. "Venders, magicians, fireworks, and dancing that would make this," he waved a derogatory arm at the lawn, "look like a funeral! You will join us, won't you?"

The princess still looked hesitant. "I can't foresee us having much fun tramping around with a score of royal guards. The venders will probably flee, thinking we've come to arrest them."

"But that's the beauty of it!" Keane burst in, grabbing Garret's arm. "We don't need guards, we're in disguise!"

Zelda paused and reconsidered the situation. All of them except Keane were wearing masks, and she doubted that Garret's own mother would recognize him with his dyed hair and darkened skin. Her own disguise was the weakest of them all, and yet between her, Demon and Garret she was the least recognizable. A sudden excitement filled her as calculation gave way to hope, and she turned to Demon.

"Would this be an acceptable compromise?" she asked.

He responded slowly, too slowly, but he did respond. "Of course."

"It is decided then," Garret laughed, "we shall have ourselves a proper Festival of Time!" He took off striding across the lawn with Keane once again in tow. "Follow me princess, adventure awaits!"

Zelda paused, looking towards Demon. "Are you sure this is what you want?" she asked.

The silver eyes of the assassin's mask betrayed nothing, yet Zelda saw something relax in his shoulders. It seemed to be almost a resignation, a surrender to something he considered inevitable.

"It has been a long time since I've seen fireworks," Demon murmured. He extended his arm to Zelda, who took it carefully. "To adventure then?"

The princess smiled and gave her mask a tug. "To adventure," she agreed, and the two of them followed Garret into the night.

000

Author's Note: Well there's part one! I personally think that each of the three segments improves on the prior one, so this is the weakest of the bunch, but it still has it's moments. I love the dry humour of the waiter who comes to offer Demon a drink early on, as he really surprised me. I think he's sort of a younger version of Alfred from the new Batman movies, come to haunt me from my subconscious. Also, I get a serious laugh out of Keane and the girls showing up to a dance dressed as Gerudos (and calling themselves Garret's 'harem'), I'm betting his royal father had a cow when he heard about it.

Thanks again to Zephros and The Wolfess for beta-reading these chapters. You guys are utterly invaluable considering that my editing skills are not what they should be. Thanks especially to The Wolfess for her impromptu lesson in romance writing, which I learned a lot from, even if I also spent a lot of time giggling.

On a sidenote, I just recently read the first Twilight book, and I'm amazed by how much it reminds me of a mediocre Fanfiction. You've got a two character pairing, just enough smattering of plot to keep the relationship moving, and a guilt-laden antihero dripping with sexual tension and dark fantasies. I will say that Meyers has a great understanding of the "early teen girl psyche", as I call it. Not only does no one understand Bella, she's secretly smarter than pretty much all her normal friends, and just waiting around for that one perfect man who will see her for more than an awkward social introvert with serious klutziness issues. It's a compelling fantasy for any insecure high school nerd, although I really can't understand what Edward sees in her. I mean, his blood-lust thing must be driving him nuts because if I was 109 years old the LAST thing I'd want to date would be 17-year-old Bella (relationship equality anyone?). You're really redefining cradle-robbing there Edward.

And no, I'm not going to read the rest of them, although if anyone's wondering, I'm Team Jacob (or I would be if I was a woman).

Back to Fanfiction. So one thing I did get criticized for on this chapter was the endless angst from Demon, who constantly tortures himself throughout the whole chapter. Is it boring? Is it too much? You tell me. Also, if people could write me a short summary of what they remember as having happened in this story so far, that would be very useful. I just finished a comprehensive layout of everything from this point to the end of _Forgotten Demons_ and I'd like to know where my readers stand in terms of plot comprehension. PM me or leave it as a review, it's your call.

Ah, it's so sad that this section's dying. Sometimes I feel like I should switch all the character names and post this as a medieval Harry Potter crossover so I can score a bunch of free reviews, but I'm pretty good at fighting that urge. I guess nobody plays Legend of Zelda anymore cause they're too busy watching Jersey Shore and playing Call of Duty. :-( It's a sadder, darker world than it used to be folks.

On another tangent, I'm sorry for not updating earlier. I got a series of promotions at work that left me very high up in the hierarchy of the campus newspaper, so I've been working pretty hard (yes, we do publish over the summer). The good news is that things have quieted down now, and my only distraction is coaching at basketball camp, so I have time to write. I'm going to warn you that I want to finish this story this summer, so things may really start moving around here (hopefully).

Goodbye for now!

Celeborn00


	68. Chapter 67B

Well this doesn't come as soon as I'd hoped, but I'm sure it's faster than you guys expected. :-) I play a little joke in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 67B

The sky was a silky darkness, draped across the world. The stars were distant fireflies, wandering far from home. The road before them, the palace behind, a fairy and a demi-god travelled through the night.

Far ahead of them, Keane and Garret rushed towards the gate and the city beyond, but neither of the two Hylians possessed the same urgency. They walked slowly, content with pondering the shadowed marble statues which lined the road, and discussing the party they had just abandoned. The statues looked misshapen in the darkness and the conversation was awkward, yet the novelty of the companion's escape invigorated them.

"Selena's going to murder me for leaving her behind," Zelda mused. She had perfected a stuttering walk which allowed her to step always on the paving stones, instead of the cracks between them. "Although Keane is technically a Valkyrie, so perhaps I'm not so irresponsible after all."

"There was a time when I was protection enough," Demon grumbled. "Besides, Keane isn't armed, princess. There's no place to hide a weapon in that costume."

"Well aren't you observant, Lord Demon." Zelda commented dryly. "But tell me, why are you so sure?"

"I'm not." Demon could feel his cheeks heating under his mask. "I just know that if she is armed, the blade's hidden somewhere she can't immediately reach. If we are ambushed, she'll be dead before she can draw it."

The princess shot him a bemused look. "And what about me, am I armed?"

Demon hesitated. "Yes," he replied. "Although I've been teaching you to use a sword not a throwing knife princess, so I doubt that blade would be much use to you."

"Throwing knife," Zelda repeated, frowning. "How did you know?"

"The handle is visible whenever you turn your head. It should be lower down between your shoulder blades."

"I'm unsure whether to be impressed or offended," Zelda remarked. "Are you armed?"

In answer, the assassin made two knives appear and then disappear in a whisper of steel on steel. They were painted the same dark blue as his gauntlets.

"I'm surprised you chose to carry a blade," he said once he'd finished his display.

The princess sighed. "It was Selena's idea. I just-" she broke off, her rhythm faltering so that she stepped on a crack. "We completely forgot!"

She hitched up her skirt in both hands and sped up until she was almost jogging. A flower jostled out of her hair and Demon stooped to pick it up as he hurried after his charge. "Forgot what?" he asked.

"Forgot what?" Zelda called back incredulously without slowing down. "Kashi's wedding of course! This is our chance to attend!"

The assassin's eyes widened and he began to hurry in earnest. He'd been so completely resigned to missing the wedding that he'd forgotten it was happening. Sometimes things just work out, he decided, despite the odds.

It didn't take them long to overtake Keane and Garret, or to interrupt their frivolous discussion about Gerudo courtship rituals to propose a change of plans. Garret's password got them through the main gate in moments, and soon the four were rushing through the streets of Clocktown towards a certain square in the old city. "Everyone gets married there, it's tradition," Garret had explained when they'd exited the Hidden Palace. "They'll be a dozen couples marrying tonight, so just hope your innkeeper wasn't at the front of the line."

Hurried as they were, the temptation to stop and gawk was still formidable. The streets teemed with masked Terminians, all laughing and shouting and singing at the top of their voices. Few had complete costumes, yet the anonymity of masks provided all the license the people needed. Couples kissed in alleyways, children ran through the streets with sparklers in either hand, and impromptu dances began wherever the space could be found.

A few wagons crawled along at a snail's pace, loaded down with musicians and entertainers. Their vigorous performance was inspired by rupees the crowd tossed into the wagon beds, along with the threat of less pleasant projectiles if they faltered. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the wagon's order; one would hold a trio of fiddlers while the next held a man juggling flaming torches. Singers, magicians, musicians, contortionists, jugglers, seers, venders, and sweet-sellers, all could be found in abundance during the Festival of Time.

Zelda turned one corner and almost careened into group of drunken moblins. They moved to envelop her, and probably would have whisked the princess away if not for Demon's prompt intervention. They were even more interested in Keane, who rounded the corner a few moments later, but after she kicked the most aggressive one in the shins the rest retreated.

"We've arrived!" Garret shouted to be heard above the crowd. "Do you see the innkeeper?"

The princess had spotted him even before Garret was finished talking. Even wearing a mask, Kashi was an easy man to find in a crowd. "There!" she pointed, and the four of them began to push, shove, and force their way through the square. If the streets were crowded then the square was packed, so it took the four companions some time to work their way across it.

"What's happening?" Zelda asked, trying to peer over shoulders and between heads. "Are we too late?"

"Just in time!" Keane called back happily. "Look, there's the priest!"

The princess's eyes widened as she caught sight of an unmasked Teiresius approaching the platform upon which Kashi was standing. A long golden sash trailed from his waist, cinching a white robe with flowing sleeves and a pointed hood. Although physically dominated by his juxtaposition with Kashi, Teiresius' mere presence hushed the roar of the crowd.

"Where's Katie?" whispered Demon, confusion apparent in his voice.

No one answered, for the priest had raised his hand, about to speak. The moment stretched onwards as the last pockets of noise diminished and Kashi shifted nervously in his best shirt. His mask was a representation of the sun, a celestial face shaped from bronze and polished to gleaming perfection.

"We are gathered here tonight to witness a series of miracles," Teiresius began. He smiled and Zelda noticed a clearness in his gaze that had not been there before. "This will not be the first miracle of the night and it will not be the last, but it will be nonetheless a miracle of the Goddesses." He paused and looked at Kashi. "Call the one you wish to marry, son of Din."

The innkeeper nodded nervously and said something that could barely be heard by the first ranks of the crowd. For a dreadful moment no one moved, and then a red blur raced its way up the platform steps and into Kashi's arms.

Teiresius looked somewhat taken aback. "Embrace the one you wish to marry, daughter of Farore," he said belatedly. The former maid wore a mask shaped like a silvery moon that clashed slightly with the violent red of her dress.

Once she'd released her hold, and both she and Kashi had readjusted their masks, the priest continued. "Do you consent to making the eternal promise in the presence of the Goddesses above, and these witness below?" He made a sweeping motion towards the crowd. "Do you promise to love each other in both light and darkness, to care for each other in both sickness and in health? Do you-"

"Well I promise!" Katie cut him off. She put her hands on her hips. "Do you promise Kashi?"

"I do!" Kashi answered. "Anybody have any objections?" he asked, turning to the crowd.

Behind him Teiresius raised an eyebrow as if pained by all the breaches in decorum. It was the only movement in the square as the crowd held their breath and their silence. No one wanted to be perceived as standing between the massive innkeeper and his prospective bride.

"May I continue?" Teiresius asked after a few moments.

"If you make it quick," Katie jumped in, "I've waited a long time for this, and I don't want to remain unmarried for a second longer than necessary."

The prophet shot a questioning look at Kashi, only to see him nodding solemnly. "Do what she says," he agreed.

Grumbling under his breath, Teiresius grabbed the inkeeper's hand and laid Katie's within it. "As you wish," he pronounced. "May Nayru bind you to your promise, and give you a love that transcends ages." He placed his own hand over those of the couple. "You may-"

They never gave him time to remove his hand, let alone finish his sentence. In an instant Kashi had ripped the mask from his head and thrown it the ground, where it was promptly joined by Katie's mask. Then husband and wife came together, their lips met, and the crowd broke into a chorus of cheers.

Later Zelda would deny that her voice was one of the loudest of those cheering, and, despite the contradiction, reprimand Demon for the way he'd clapped his hands over his ears as she'd yelled. But that was later, for in the moment she was too busy cheering. Katie's feet slowly left the ground as Kashi pulled her deeper into his embrace, and even Teiresius began to smile. Behind them, two small boys set off silver-streaked fireworks into the night air, illuminating the couple's joy for all to see.

It was a perfect moment, the end of a terrible heartbreak and the beginning of something beautiful. More fireworks sent iridescent bursts of colour hurtling skywards. More happiness, at least for Kashi and Katie, would have caused them to similarly explode.

Keane moved to Zelda's side. "The children will be hideous!" she shouted in the princess' ear. "I'd bet on it!"

"Pardon?" Zelda said distractedly. Before Keane could repeat herself, the princess began to move through the crowd towards her friends. Pushing here, shoving there, she'd almost fought her way to the front when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Zelda turned to find Demon's opaque silver eyes staring at her. She hesitated for a moment as something unseen passed between them, then gave in and allowed him to lead her back towards the two Gerudos.

The assassin was right, Kashi and Katie were enjoying something that should not be broken, should not be disturbed. They didn't need Zelda Harkinian encroaching upon their happiness as a living reminder of the desperation of the world and its coming end. Zelda's congratulations would have to come later, and yet...

The princess glanced regretfully over her shoulder and watched Kashi lead his bride slowly from the platform, allowing another man in an identical sun mask to take his place. Teiresius had disappeared somewhere, and the crowds had returned to their own discussions. Only the smoke from the fireworks remained to mark the ceremony.

"What's wrong?" Keane asked, confused by the two Hylian's actions.

"Nothing," Demon replied automatically, "Our friends need this night to themselves."

The Valkyrie did not reply, although she and Garret exchanged a knowing glance that caused Zelda to frown disapprovingly. While the princess did not completely agree with Demon's actions, she serious doubted his motivation was...was...what Keane was thinking.

"Aren't we going to explore the rest of the Festival?" Zelda directed the question at Garret to distract him.

"Yes, of course!" the prince replied as his characteristic grin returned. "Tonight we will show you Hylians the meaning of celebration!" He shepherded them towards one of the streets leading out of the square, ornate armor attracting more than one admiring glance.

Revelers surrounded the four companions as they left the weddings behind and wandered deeper into the city. The costumes of the citizenry became more elaborate the farther they walked, with some even rivaling those worn by the nobility. Venders in booths lining both sides of the street added to the noise with a cacophony of offers for delicious or exotic products. Every few moments, the explosion of some distant firework punctuated the chaos with a flash of light and a sharp report.

Garret stopped at one booth to buy a handful of sparklers, and distributed two to each of his followers. Keane immediately lit one off a nearby torch, but the princess and assassin just stared at the thin tubes.

"Don't!" Zelda cried as Demon began to shake one curiously. She had been reluctant to accept her own from Garret, and now held them at arm's length as if they might explode any moment.

The assassin stopped shaking the sparkler. Instead, he stared at Keane who casually lit a second sparkler with the first and moved to stand next to the princess. "You're not scared are you?" she asked innocently.

Zelda's lips pursed and she pulled the tubes marginally closer to her body. "Should I be?" she muttered.

The Valkyrie smiled gleefully and waved one of her sputtering, firing tubes in front of the princess. "Of course not, watch!" She set off running down the street, leaving a wake of sparks behind her.

Shaking his head in admiration, Garret lit his own two sparklers. "Now that's a woman!" he grinned, adding "your pardon princess" as an afterthought. In a flash he too was off running.

Zelda grumbled something under her breath as she watched them go, but it was inaudible against the general noise of the Festival. Knuckles whitening, she cautiously brought her first tube in contact with the torch and watched it ignite into life. The blinding sparks hurt her eyes, yet she steeled herself and lit the second sparkler with the first.

Then the princess looked at Demon with questions lurking in her eyes. "Aren't we going to chase them?" she asked.

The assassin nodded silently, yet made no move towards the torch. "Hold still princess," he said.

He moved in closer, lighting his own sparklers with Zelda's so that their shower of fire cascaded together. When he did not retreat immediately, a breath caught in the princess's throat and she flicked her gaze from one argent eye to the other. For a moment they both stood frozen, enjoying a sensation that was altogether alien and desperately familiar at the same time. Then Demon stepped back.

"Now we chase them," he decided, and they began to run. Or in Zelda's case jog, as her costume wasn't really made for running.

As it turned out, Garret and Keane were waiting around the next corner, and the four laughed together as their sparklers slowly burned out. Keane whispered something to Zelda, who blushed and gave a tug on her dress. One by one the fireworks died in puffs of smoke which drifted serpent-like in the still air. With them died the laughter, although the mischievous twitch in the corner of Garret's mouth never faltered.

The princess glanced between them, the prince who had pledged his army to her cause, the noblewoman who guarded her day and night, and the assassin whom she had convinced to become a hero. It was strange to see them united in such profound silliness, and yet also strangely right. So much of their time together had been marred by the growing danger they faced, and so little spent enjoying the world they were trying to save. In fact, only a few days separated them from a war which would very probably destroy...

Zelda froze her train of thought, realizing that she was heading exactly where she wasn't meant to go. This Festival, for her as well as every other soul in Clocktown, was about forgetting the future and celebrating the moment. It was an act of defiance against the interminable fates which controlled their lives, and an expression of faith that in a year's time, somewhere, somehow, Terminians would once again celebrate the Goddesses' blessing.

Her eyes suddenly focused on a stall across the street, containing a man dressed in a tasseled leather vest standing next to a large wall-mounted wooden wheel. He smiled as he caught her gaze and waved while also motioning to his wheel.

"What is he selling?" Zelda asked as the other three turned to see what had captured her attention.

"Selling? No that's a game princess." Garret answered. "That wheel is divided into coloured spaces marked with different rewards. One bets a number of rupees on a certain colour, then has two throws to stick that section with a knife and win the reward. A test of skill for men such as ourselves, eh Lord Demon?" He banged a gauntlet into Demon's left pauldron.

"It's a worthy test for women as well!" Keane retorted. "I can throw a knife as well as any, and" she paused to tap Garret on the chest, "perhaps better than most!"

The prince laughed, but there was a spark in his eye that Demon and Zelda were well familiar with. "That's a challenge if I've ever heard one!" he exclaimed, "and I personally am eager to see one of the Valkyries live up to their name." He glanced to the two Hylians. "Do you also accept this challenge?"

Zelda blushed faintly, feeling Demon's amused gaze upon her. "Knife-throwing is a worthy test for some women perhaps, but not all. I am content to watch."

"That would be a waste of an opportunity, princess," interjected Demon. "We accept. Choose your blades well, Gerudo," he said to Garret, "for I've yet to find one sharper than Keane's tongue."

The Valkyrie smiled as if she'd been complimented, and the four companions hurried to the booth. Grinning widely, the man inside made a show of studying them.

"A Gerudo, a fairy, a demon and a..." he paused as his eyes stopped on Keane and travelled down her form. There was a tense moment where Garret's hand twitched towards his Gerudo sword before the vendor recovered himself. "A vision of the angelic," he managed. "Welcome to the game which will test your skill, your speed, your very spirit! I trust you know how to play?"

Garret gave him a terse nod, but Keane was not so impatient. "Of course, but I'm hardly going to bet rupees before I know what I can win."

The man leaned forward towards her, unkempt hair falling over eyes shining with excitement. "A woman after my own heart," he breathed. "Let me show you the fabulous treasures which could be yours with only a minor," he smiled, "investment."

Stepping up next to the wheel, the man gestured to it's gouged surface. It was broken up into shapes painted a variety of colours and labeled with numbers from one to twenty. Number one was the largest, a yellow crescent covering nearly half the wheel, whereas twenty, a red circle roughly the width of the bottom of a beer mug, looked impossibly small. The man gave it a practice spin, and stepped back to let his audience admire the difficulty of hitting such a target.

"Numbers two through seventeen multiply the rupees you bet by a certain value," he explained, "but choose eighteen, nineteen, or twenty and you'll be competing for treasures worth more than a prince's ransom!"

Garret shifted a little at this, but the vendor did not appear to notice. Instead, he threw aside a curtain at the back of his stall to display three objects sitting on a dilapidated wooden shelf. The first was vial of crimson liquid, the second a dusty bottle containing a tiny floating spark, and the third a strange heart-shaped mask.

Zelda narrowed her eyes, intrigued by the exotic nature of the vendor's treasures. Abruptly her attention was drawn to Demon as he hissed under his breath.

"I think I have seen that mask before," he whispered to her, "although I cannot remember where." The princess turned from him to study the mask more closely, examining its strange orange eyes and spiked rim with newfound respect. Demon had sounded almost nervous, and anything that made the assassin nervous was worth Zelda's attention.

The vendor grinned and allowed his audience to examine the prizes for a few more moments before he began to speak. "This here," he began, placing a hand on the vial, "was given to me by a hag in the southern swamps. It's a potion of great power." Lowering his voice suggestively he beckoned the companions closer. "A love potion actually, capable of making anyone fall in love with its possessor."

Keane snorted unimpressed, and immediately the vender's gaze was upon her. "You don't believe me?" He sounded hurt.

"I'm a liar myself," Keane answered, "I recognize my type."

The vendor was the picture of wide-eyed conviction. "I assure you that this potion is real. It could change your life." He shot a sideways glance at Garret and Demon. "I assure you gentleman that the beautiful Princess Zelda herself would succumb in an instant, and isn't that an intriguing thought?"

This time it was Demon's turn to shift uneasily as he played with the hilt of something inside his sleeve.

"But on to the second prize." The man picked up the bottle and wiped some dust from the flawed glass. "In here is a miracle that I captured in the mystical heart of Hyrule's Great Forest. A fairy!"

Zelda tensed indignantly. "It's a firefly," Demon said from beside her. "Don't upset yourself."

"A fairy," the vender continued after casting Demon a scathing glance, "capable of healing any wound, sickness, or hurt. Perhaps the only chance for your ailing parents, or one of the cripples who line the streets of this city. A miracle in a bottle."

Placing the so-called fairy back upon the shelf, the man looked to the mask, hesitated, than gingerly pointed to it. "This mask," he began, "is the last and most powerful of my treasures. It is the spirit of an ancient darkness, and it gives its wearer dark powers and darker temptations. If you should happen to win it then it is yours to use or destroy, I care not as long as it's out of my sight."

Zelda stared curiously into the mask's orange eyes, and felt a curious pull upon her senses. She blinked and tore her gaze away, an incredulous laugh dying in her throat.

Garret stepped forward. "I want the mask. Where do I place my bet?"

The vender moved to a wooden board upon a nearby table, with the numbers one to twenty evenly spaced along its length. "The mask is number twenty," he said, "and the lowest bid for one of the three prizes is fifty rupees."

"Fifty rupees!" Garret sputtered. "Do you take me for a child?"

The man shrugged apology but didn't back down. "The mask is worth far more than that. Do you wish to try for an easier number?"

Instead of answering, Garret gritted his teeth and slid a purple rupee from his pocket onto the board. The vender smiled and handed him four knives. "Pick the two you like," he said, "and we'll begin the game."

Garret weighed the four weapons in his hand, testing their make and balance. Then he chose two and moved to stand on a cloth circle in front of the wheel.

"After I spin, you have to the count of ten to throw both knives." the vender explained. He tapped the red circle engraved with the number twenty. "This is your target. Are you ready?"

"Of course." Garret flexed his shoulders and flipped the first knife so his fingers gripped the blade. Before him, the wheel began to spin.

Neither of his throws even came close to the mark, and so it was with an air of baffled resentment that he walked back to the wooden board and thumped down another purple rupee. "Your turn Keane," he announced, turning to the Valkyrie. "Try to at least hit the wheel."

Zelda cringed, expecting the hot-tempered woman to explode into fury, but Keane just smiled. "I'll try not to embarrass you," she murmured as she patted Garret's mask on the cheek, "too much." With that she approached the table and picked up the two knives Garret had abandoned. "The love potion," she announced towards the vender. "I know a real treasure when I see one."

All of them, Keane included, expressed surprise at how close she came to the dark blue eighteen. When the vendor slowed the wheel to inspect the woman's throws, one of her knives was buried only a finger-length from her target. Eyes wide, he glanced at the pouting Valkyrie with newfound respect.

Keane sighed and turned away from the wheel. "That's a pity, I adore love potions," she said, glancing at Garret.

The prince swallowed hard, the sudden pallor of his face only partially hidden behind the mask.

"Now the great fairy, and then the demon," the vender said quickly. He gestured towards Garret. "Are you paying for all?"

But before the dazed Gerudo could reply, Demon had already pulled out his own purple jewel and was advancing towards the table. Zelda followed him, a little reluctantly, and watched as he threw the jewel onto the wood and picked up two knives.

"It's time for another lesson," the assassin said as he led her to the cloth circle. "But first, what are you trying to win?"

"The fairy," Zelda replied without hesitation.

"The light's too small to be a fairy" Demon reminded her quietly.

Zelda looked at him. "Yet too big to be a firefly."

"Are you ready?" the vendor broke in.

The assassin waved a hand at him in irritation. Carefully, he placed the blade of one of the knives in Zelda's hand, and wrapped her fingers around it in a peculiar manner. "This is how you hold it," he murmured. "When you throw, hold the knife above your shoulder and throw _straight_. If you twist your arm or your body, the throw will be ruined."

Zelda grimaced behind her mask, disliking the coldness of steel against her fingers. "This is a waste of fifty rupees," she said.

"Your fairy won't think so," Demon muttered. "Now remember, _straight_." He backed up to give the princess room, and motioned to the vender.

Zelda narrowed her eyes as the wheel began to spin, tightening her hold upon the knife and lifting it above her shoulder as Demon as said. Her target, the green nineteen, was a blur of movement that her eyes could barely follow. The princess focused, breathed out in a hiss of concentration, and threw.

Her first knife struck the wheel on the opposite side of the board from the nineteen and left a sharp tang of disappointment in Zelda's mouth. To her frustration, her second knife didn't even stick, but bounced off the wheel and clattered to the cobblestones.

"A good throw!" the vender began over the noise of the wheel, but Zelda was not yet defeated. Jaw set, she reached up to the back of her neck, and suddenly there was a third knife spinning through the air. It spun for a moment in the torch-illuminated night, and then buried itself in the center of the red twenty.

No one spoke as the wheel reluctantly slowed and then stopped, but eyes moved calculatingly between the princess and the mask upon the shelf. At first the vender looked nervous, but then his eyes hardened and he crossed his arms.

"A very good throw, but our agreement was for two throws and two alone. Besides, this isn't one of my..." the man broke off as he turned to inspect his wheel.

Along with Zelda's three knives, two in the wheel and one on the ground, a fourth blade had mysteriously appeared in the green nineteen. It was buried almost all the way to its dark blue hilt, yet Demon withdrew it in one tug as he approached the vender.

The assassin made the knife disappear into his sleeve, although his eyes never left the man before him. With his other hand he produced another purple rupee and handed it over. "Accept this as payment for the last two throws. I believe the lady has won a prize."

The vender tried to muster the courage to disagree, but failed. Instead he licked his lips nervously and retreated towards the three prizes on the shelf. "Of course, take the mask. May it aid you on your ventures and bring you happiness. Here!" He gingerly moved to pick it up, but Demon's voice stopped him.

"The fairy," the assassin corrected. Behind him Zelda tensed as if about to say something, then simply smiled.

The relief on the vender's face was palpable as he turned from the mask and picked up the bottle instead. "Here you are, enjoy your prize and thank you for your business!" he said, shoving the bottle into Demon's hands. He positively shooed the four companions from his shop with hardly a muttered farewell to make his actions polite.

"But what of a second round?" Garret protested, but it was already too late. In an instant the torches were out, a cover was thrown over the wheel and the booth was officially closed. Helplessly, the prince continued down the street, Keane and the two Hylians in tow.

"I seem to have lost my knife," Zelda said. She touched the empty sheath at her neck uncertainly.

Keane snorted. "It will probably be tomorrow's prize. 'The dagger of a Great Fairy' he'll say, 'it grants its owner immortality!'"

"Two hundred rupees for a firefly in a bottle," Garret grumbled just as bitterly as the Valkyrie. "Why didn't you choose the mask? I've never seen one like it!"

"I'd be upset too if I'd thrown as poorly as you," Zelda replied primly. She hugged her bottle protectively as the prince shot her a dark look.

"It's this mask," he protested, pointing to his face.

Keane reached out and locked her arm through his. "We're all wearing masks, my lord," she observed sweetly.

Garret turned to look at her, then back to Zelda. His defeat had come in a form both swift and unforeseen, and he had no defense against it.

"So we are," he admitted, desperate to change the subject. "What were you planning to do with that potion Keane, had you won it?"

"It's a secret."

Zelda laughed, and Garret whipped his head towards her as he searched her mask for answers. Again, none were forthcoming so he shifted his gaze to the bottle in the princess' arms.

"Are you going to open that?" he asked.

Zelda caught his gaze and followed it down until she was staring at the faintly pulsating light inside the misted glass. She'd almost forgotten why she was carrying it, but Garret's words renewed her purpose. The princess gestured her friends into a shadowed alley entrance, and set the bottle down on the ground between them.

"I've been to the Great Forest," she explained to the Terminians, "the fairies there saved my life, and so I will not let one of their number be masqueraded as a 'prize' here in Clocktown." She examined the hole drilled through the center of the cork, then knelt and tried to get a good hold on the bottle.

"You really believe it's a fairy?" Keane asked incredulously.

"No." The princess looked up at her. "But there's always the chance..."

She pulled the cork with a disappointing pop. All four companions stared intently at the top of the bottle, holding their breath without realizing it. The light inside wavered and spun, wavered and spun, glowing brighter than before. Ever so slowly it descended, before coming to rest at the bottom of the bottle. The four studying it all experienced a strange sense of disillusionment.

"Two hundred rupees," Garret breathed.

Keane stepped forward eagerly. "I'll give it a good shake," she suggested.

Zelda shook her head. "It's mine," she said as she scooped up the bottle and it's occupant. Tipping it towards her open palm, she shook it gently until the ball of light began sliding towards the top. A moment later, the princess had the fattest glow-bug she'd ever seen sitting complacently in her palm.

"Ah!" Zelda gasped as she flung both bottle and bug into the alley. The sound of breaking glass echoed against stone walls, mixed with snorts of laughter from Keane and Garret. The glow-bug, unappreciated and alone, flew off into the night.

All watched it go, weaving a glowing path down the alleyway.

"Did anybody get healed?" Keane asked eventually, causing another burst of laughter from Garret.

Demon looked to Zelda, who was still staring down the alley at where the bug had disappeared. She smiled as she sensed his gaze, but something in her posture made the assassin pause.

"So where to next?" she pre-empted him.

Keane brightened. "More dancing?" she asked.

"The stars are out, the night's still young, why not?" Garret replied as he warmed to the idea. The prince stretched his limbs and completed a practice turn in the street, red hair whipping behind him. "All we need is you," he grinned at Keane, "me, and some commoner playing a fiddle."

"In that case I think I shall return to the Palace, lest I interrupt your silliness." Zelda interjected.

Both Terminians turned to her beseechingly. "But princess!" the Valkyrie pleaded.

"I'm tired." Zelda said. Unmoved, she fiddled with her mask as she spoke. "And I have no desire to be the third horse hitched to the cart, if we understand one another. You two run along to your dance, and perhaps I can trouble the Lord Demon here into guiding me back." Demon nodded agreement.

Garret took a hurried breath as if about to speak, yet Keane was faster. "This is a big cart," she objected, "and the fourth horse is right here!" She pointed at Demon. "A mighty fine horse too if I am permitted to say so, especially all dressed up and-" Abruptly she broke off, her eyes widening.

"The 'mighty fine horse'," Garret said sarcastically, "doesn't dance." His pettiness was ignored by Keane, who looked as if she was undergoing a profound revelation.

"You play your cards well, princess," the Valkyrie remarked after a short pause. "If you are too tired to dance then the prince and I graciously take our leave. This night has been most exciting!" She winked at Zelda knowingly.

The prince himself seemed less than satisfied with the arrangement, and he glanced back several times as Keane attempted to lead him away. "At least let me escort you to the gate," he said, "you are under my protection after all."

"I'll be fine, truly." Zelda smiled again, and glanced at the shadowy monument of the Clock Tower. "If I judge correctly the Palace isn't far."

"The watch has yet to change, so you will be recognized." Garret mused, still unconvinced.

"Hurry my prince." Keane tugged at his arm. "Or is one woman not enough for you? She has the Lord Demon with her, for Goddesses sake!"

Garret paused for another moment, then surrendered to Keane's grip. "Goodbye my friends!" he called over his shoulder, simultaneous with the Valkyrie's wave. Then the two Gerudos were wandering off down the street and merging with the perpetual flow of revelers. Zelda couldn't help but smile as she watched them go, noticing that Keane was already talking an incessant stream, her arm wrapped possessively through the prince's. For all Garret's charm, the princess couldn't help but wonder if he was overmatched.

000

Author's Note: So did anybody recognize that mask? :-) One of the things that I learned from Tolkien's work is that the best stories project the feeling that they are just one story of many that could be told, and that they intersect these other stories at random points throughout. Not only does this create the impression of a bigger, more realistic world, but it keeps the reader hungry for glimpses into these other stories. Tolkien wrote one short story where a simple farmer takes a walk in the realm of faerie, and encounters an elven army marching home from war. The story is about the farmer and we as readers never learn who the elves were or why they were at war, but their very existence and autonomy expands the horizons of Tolkien's world.

So in his honour I have included a mask from another story as a glimpse into things that _Forgotten Demons_ will never touch. Also, I guess, to tease those of you who have been asking about which elements of Majora's Mask would appear in my story.

Several of you agreed with my suspicion in the last chapter that Demon was a little too brooding, and I'm sorry about that. I suspect that a little too much of myself crept into the character, when I was writing it (I always hated big parties when I was younger). Although I can't say I personally got as much female attention as the Lord Demon seems to attract. :-)

This chapter was difficult to write because of the sheer amount of stuff going on. How does one write about a festival where your characters are talking and watching and playing and flirting all in the same few moments? What details do you focus on, and which do you discard? Was I too verbose? Not verbose enough? Was it real? Was it corny? Did anybody think it was actually going to be a fairy in that jar?

Tell me the truth.

One thing I'm finding it very difficult to do is keeping up with all the characters I've introduced. As I've planned out the rest of this fic I've found that I've dropped sub-plots right and left in an attempt to keep things moving. It doesn't greatly affect anything important, but I doubt characters like Kashi and Katie are going to get any more screen-time. The positive to this is that the plot is moving in a way it hasn't moved since the early days of this fic, but it also makes me sad as well (although I agree that most of the characters are not interesting enough to merit more scenes). There are also some characters who I was planning to write bigger parts for, but just wasn't able to. Some of you may remember the introduction of Lord Diego in chapter 60 back when I had plans for him as more than just a philandering Mr. Collins (Jane Austen reference). I wonder about Diego's story sometimes, although I've never sat down and actually figured out how it ends. I almost had Vaine kill him off several times, but she just never did, and now that she's dead the opportunity is gone.

Kudos to Queen of the Random Word, who was the only one to provide me with a summary of my story so far, and who apparently remembers my plot better than I do. If any of you are having trouble recalling the general outline of this fic, I suggest reading through her review

And Mado, if you want to translate this fic into French than be my guest, although I'm familiar enough with the scope and difficulty of such a project to suggest that you probably have better uses for your time. PM me if I misunderstood your suggestion.

Until next time,

Celeborn00


	69. Chapter 67C

Here's the juicy bit that everyone's been asking for since Chapter 12 or so. Four years and 200,000 words later, I finally got around to writing it (sort of).

Chapter 67C

"It was the glow-bug, wasn't it," Demon asked, as Garret and Keane disappeared around a corner.

The two Hylians were still cloaked in the shadow of the alley, watching the distant spot where their companions had vanished. The night hummed with laughing voices and singing instruments, occasionally overwhelmed by the rumble of a cart through the streets or the shouts of a passing vendor. In the next alley, four young men set off a series of fireworks that started as flaming rockets and then burst in shower of ruby sparks above the rooftops. Their reflection tinted Zelda's mask pink and bled the colour from her eyes.

"It reminded me of Navi," she muttered, "the way she came to us in the Great Forest when we were trying to escape." Zelda laughed somewhat bitterly. "Do you remember?"

"I try to forget." The assassin winced at the memory of the things he had said that night in the darkness.

"So do I," Zelda agreed. "I wish our parting had been different. In Kakariko, I used to imagine what I'd tell her if we were to meet again."

"What would you say?"

"I...I never decided."

Demon laughed, a sharp sound that made the princess jump. "Sometimes we are not so different," he admitted.

Zelda sighed. "Not so different at all," she agreed. Touching one of the flowers worked into her costume, she stared into the alley. "But the fairy is not the only friend I have abandoned. So many have suffered, perhaps are suffering still, while I dress myself in a silly costume and dance the night away."

Another firework hurtled above the torchlight and burst in sudden colour. Two children, a boy and girl, raced down the cobblestones frantically waving sparklers as if to keep back the darkness.

"Joining them in their misery will not free them from it." Demon said absently. "Sometimes a little dancing can be a noble thing."

"Says the man who claims he cannot dance." Putting a hand to her mouth, the princess stifled a yawn. "Anyway, I was telling the truth about being tired," she said, "do you think-"

"Of course," he agreed before she could finish.

"You have my gratitude, Lord Demon." Zelda touched his arm thankfully. "Lead me home."

The streets of Clocktown did not always run straight, and neither of the two companions were familiar with their secrets, yet the monument of the Clock guided them like iron to a lodestone. Tired as Zelda claimed to be, she paused many times along the way to examine the booths and attractions that lined the sidewalks and the street corners. It was a quieter journey without the energetic banter of Garret and Keane, yet filled with a peaceful nostalgia. Both Hylians had missed the confidence of anonymity, of simplicity, and the freedom to explore without the restrictions of guards and fanfare.

"This is good," Zelda remarked after they made an expensive sojourn at a certain sweets vendor, "very, very good." She used her finger to clean sugary sweetness from her lips, then realized she had nowhere to wipe her finger and paused, at a loss. The pastry in her other hand dangled indecisively in the air as she glanced from her finger to her spotless costume and back again.

"Here." Demon traded her the half-eaten pastry for a handkerchief, and began nibbling at the dessert himself. His mask kept getting in the way, yet just as he'd begun to devote his attention to the problem Zelda distracted him.

"Another handkerchief," the princess marveled, "is this becoming a habit? Or is Leon now in complete control of your wardrobe?"

"They seem to be a necessity around you princess," he said, chewing appreciatively. The tang of duskberry filled his mouth, seeping between flakes of crust. "This is very good," he added a moment later.

"Yes it is, now give it back." Zelda said, teasing the remains of the pastry from his fingers. "I never said I'd share."

"I never thought I'd have to ask," Demon grumbled.

The unheeded shouts of vendors wavered in the background of their exchange, promising all manner of curiosities and contrivances. A circle of dancers, all long past their fiftieth year, almost engulfed the two Hylians in a strange but enthusiastic dance in a small square. Yet somehow the companions extricated themselves and wandered onward, the princess cleaning the last traces of sugar from her fingertips.

Just before the gate to the Hidden Palace, they were approached by a small girl selling blue forget-me-nots out of a wicker basket. She was wrapped in a cotton dress with ragged hems and a mask that was barely more than a scrap of cloth. "Flowers my lady?" she asked quietly, "flowers for luck?"

"Luck for what?" Zelda said through a smile, pulling a red rupee from a pocket. Her costume already contained more flowers than the girl's entire basket, yet her heart had no room for such practicality.

The girl glanced between her and Demon. "Luck for your love," she said, "so it may bloom again." She gravely accepted the red jewel and handed a suddenly embarrassed Zelda a bouquet of flowers.

"I...uh...thank you," the princess stammered. Watching the girl retreat back into an alley, she absently sniffed her purchase. The blue flowers were darker than the blossom on her mask, yet they smelled lighter, fresher, than the cloying orchid.

"A misunderstanding," she explained to Demon, "a mistake." She found herself watching him in an attempt to gauge his reaction.

The flowers were passed off only moments later, a parting gift to the soldier at the gate with instructions to give them to his wife. Neither Demon nor Zelda spoke of them as they rambled their way back up the road towards the green, yet their silence betrayed an awareness that had not been there before. Both stole glances at the other, choosing words carefully and then rejecting them before they'd been spoken.

This time there was no rushing off into the dark, but instead a dallying reluctance to end the night's festivities. The road flowed unheeded beneath their feet as they gazed up at distant stars and felt the weight of the black sky above their heads. It seemed endless now, the road, and so the two Hylians slowed until they were barely moving, barely drifting in the long darkness.

Zelda laughed softly and the silence was broken. "Again," she murmured, "the girl said our love would bloom 'again'. Why would she say that?"

The assassin didn't answer, and the princess felt a blush creep across her face. She stole a glance at the man beside her in another unsuccessful attempt to read him.

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked finally.

Once again Demon didn't respond, but this time Zelda could see the calculated indifference in his shoulders and his measured stride. She slowed and then halted, and watched him take a few steps farther and then reluctantly turn to face her.

"She was a poor little girl, who charmed you into paying ten times what her flowers were worth." Demon crossed his arms and sighed. "Not Teiresius' apprentice seer. Forget her, princess."

"That's not an answer," Zelda responded firmly. She blinked as her eyes wandered to the moonlight on his silver armor.

Demon nodded. "You're right, princess, it isn't." He turned to continue walking, but halted again when Zelda didn't move.

"Are you-" he began, but was interrupted.

"Do you hear that?" the princess asked instead.

They both paused to listen, absorbing the sounds of the night around them. The gentle hum of crickets in the garden. A breeze whispering in the tall trees. And then, barely audible, strains of music from the distant green.

"You know..." Zelda whispered. "Perhaps Keane was right. Perhaps I'm not as tired as I thought, and I really have played my cards perfectly. I wonder..."

And with that she stepped off the road, and slipped through a gap in the hedges into the unknown beyond.

Demon stared at the dark hole in the otherwise unbroken line of greenery. He slipped off his right gauntlet and ran the hand through his hair uncertainly as he wavered between his options. "I'd swear you'd been drinking," he muttered to the emptiness. Gingerly, he slunk towards the hedge.

"Princess," he whispered, "princess?"

000

He wandered for a while, searching arbor after arbor, sheltered walk after sheltered walk. The flora left dark streaks on his armor as he forced his way between hedges, the stiff branches rending his cloak. Slowly the mystery inspired by Zelda's departure gave way to irritation and then to worry, as her pale figure failed to materialize. Unfortunately, just because he didn't find the princess didn't mean he didn't stumble upon other nobles enjoying the seclusion of the gardens, which hardly helped his mood.

It was only after Demon had begun to wonder if Zelda had simply returned to her quarters that he remembered their first meal in the Hidden Palace. Conviction surged within him and for the first time he began to search with a real destination in mind.

He moved only on the main pathways, which were blessedly free of unwanted company. Occasionally he was forced to halt and find his bearings-the gardens were like a labyrinth at night-but it still wasn't long before he was standing within the latticework tunnel and searching for a small gap between the vines. _She'll be here, _he thought, _she better be._

Yet she wasn't.

When Demon stepped up into the wooden pavilion, it was completely and utterly empty. The table was bare, the torches long gone, and all overshadowed by the heavy willows. The music weaving through the trees told him that he was much closer to the green than he'd been on the road, but that was hardly important. Few things were important outside of his immediate dilemma. What was he going to tell Selena? Goddesses, what was he going to tell Garret? How had he lost the princess?

"Looking for someone?"

Demon spun to see Zelda emerge from behind a willow trunk. She smiled and tilted her head, examining him. "The Hero of Time," she continued, "outfoxed by a mere woman."

"What are you doing, princess?" The assassin's voice was flat.

"I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "I just know that if I go to my quarters I will fall asleep, and if I fall asleep I will wake up, and if I wake up..." she hesitated, "I will have to fight a war."

"So you hide in the gardens?"

The princess smiled again. "It seemed to be the best option."

"The best option for spreading rumours," Demon sighed. "Do you realize what the nobles use these gardens for during the Festival? Or how many have seen me as I've searched for you?"

"Let them talk, they know nothing," Zelda half-growled in imitation of the assassin. "I believe those were your exact words earlier."

Demon swallowed what he had been planning to say, and instead motioned her onto the wooden platform. "Then we shall stay until you come to your senses," he decided.

He pulled the two chairs out from behind the table, and faced them out towards the dark willows. Sitting in one, he waited until the princess occupied the other, and then waited again for her to speak.

She didn't for a long time. Both heard the music beyond their sanctuary start and then stop as a dance flew by, and then start anew. Finally Zelda shifted in her chair so that she could look at Demon without craning her neck.

"We don't need these anymore," she said as she unclipped the side of her mask and drew the fastening ribbon from her hair. "Besides it is hard to argue with someone when you can't see their eyes, it gives them an advantage."

"Perhaps my only advantage princess." Demon said, but he drew his mask over his head anyway, breathing deeply in appreciation of his new freedom. "What do you plan on arguing about?"

"Do we have to fight a war?"

Demon massaged his temples where the mask had contacted his skin. "I thought that was why we came to Termina," he reminded her gently.

"It was...it is, but why?" Zelda clasped her fingers in her lap, hunching her shoulders inward. "Is there truly no other way?"

Demon studied her. _There was,_ he thought to himself, remembering his suggestion in the council chamber, _I could have gone after the Master Sword myself_. "This is Garret's war now," he said instead, "the armies are mobilizing, the declarations have been path is chosen."

"And victory or defeat, it will be a massacre," Zelda sighed.

The willows whispered their secrets as a momentary breeze rushed among them, bringing with it the faint perfume of flowers. Upon the green, brazen trumpet calls announced a very late introduction.

"Is this what the Goddesses want?" Zelda asked. "A war?"

Demon pulled off his gauntlets and dropped them beside his mask. "The Goddesses are beyond us princess, their will is unknowable."

"Yet you are always talking of destiny," the princess replied sharply. "What is destiny if not the will of the Goddesses? What are we, the Destined, if not instruments of the Goddesses' will? Why then do they tell us nothing?"

"If I knew that, princess," Demon muttered, "I would be a much different man than you see before you now."

Zelda curved her lips in a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Speaking of the Goddesses, I haven't been able to touch the Triforce since Kakoriko. What if we face this Ganon and it fails me, Demon?" She met his eyes. "If I fail everyone?"

"That is a worry for a different time," the assassin replied slowly, "and perhaps one that will resolve itself. We are stumbling along this path without knowing what the next corner may bring, so let's worry about the moblin in the kitchen instead of the Darknut on the horizon."

This time Zelda's smile was genuine. "True wisdom," she agreed.

In the ensuing silence, the princess reached back and pulled a pin from her hair, and then another. In a few short but precise movements the complicated plait fell away, and she began combing her fingers through her hair to rid it of the flowers. Demon watched the whole process intently, a knot growing in his throat.

When she had finished and was surrounded by a litter of discarded blossoms, the assassin shifted towards the edge of his chair, unable still to tear his eyes away. "Are you ready princess?" he asked, and started as she caught his gaze.

"Ready for what? Ready to sleep? Perhaps. Ready for this night to end? Perhaps not." Yet she rose from her chair anyway, and Demon followed her to his feet. The music ended once again, and suddenly the only sound was an owl hooting mournfully in the willows.

Zelda turned, her eyes hollow in the moonlight. She paused, hesitant, not longer sitting, yet no longer moving either. "I still wish to forget," she whispered, "if only for a little while. Tell me Demon, will you dance with me?"

The assassin hesitated. "You know not what you ask princess."

Gliding backwards into the open space between two tree trunks, Zelda tossed her unbound hair over her shoulder in a movement that was both forlorn and beautiful. "One dance. I will teach you the moves," she pushed.

There was no answer, yet, as if drawn by invisible threads, Demon drifted across the clearing. "This is a poor idea," he murmured.

"Then refuse me," Zelda challenged him. She waited a moment, daring him with her eyes, then smiled triumphantly. Guiding one of his calloused hands around her waist, she clasped the other in her own as the first soft, strains of music resonated from the green.

The initial few steps she showed him were awkward, and the princess hissed twice as Demon narrowly avoided crushing her slippered feet with his boots. Yet Zelda found his rhythm to be surprisingly good, and by the time the dance ended the assassin had mastered the basic moves. They practiced through the interval, and when the second dance began Demon actually began to lead.

"Is this not better than standing alone in the darkness?" Zelda teased lightly.

"Perhaps," Demon managed. His eyes flicked to where his fingers intertwined with hers.

The princess' eyes were dark, adrift in a mood the assassin did not recognize. "You don't sound convinced," she breathed, and her hand on his back coaxed him closer.

The music came and went, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Dappled moonlight covered them as the dance became something more, became something like a dream. It filled them, connecting them, until their steps became more complicated, their moves more complex, and they began to dance in earnest.

They seemed to dance forever, matching the subtle movements of the music with their own bodies, and flowing in convoluted patterns across the loam. Shadow was their witness, the forest their ballroom, and moss the dance floor beneath their feet. Time itself became immaterial.

Unimportant.

The moon was at a different angle in the sky when they finally stopped, and only then did either of the two realize how close their bodies had become. Demon's duskberry-scented breath heated the top of the princess' head, and then her face as she looked up.

"I never taught you any of those dances," she breathed. Her luminous eyes searched the assassin's face, but found nothing more than the sudden shutting of a window in a stone wall.

In a moment Demon's hands were free and he was stumbling backwards towards the pavilion, all his supernatural grace absent in the shock of his awakening. "No!" the assassin groaned even as he fell to one knee upon the grass. "Don't you understand princess? You cannot fix me! I am broken!"

Zelda stood motionless in the moonlight, pale hands fallen to press against her dress. "What makes you think," she whispered, "that I wish to fix you?"

The assassin's eyes never left hers, yet the resistance behind them only seemed to harden. "Because I _am_ broken, and..." his voice softened, "I _know_ you."

"Only as well as I know you," Zelda replied.

"You don't know me," Demon corrected. A cricket began its love-song in the space between them, crying to the night.

"You truly believe that?"

No motion was need to convey the assassin's response, the affirmation was as clear in his face as any word.

"Do you believe that?" the princess repeated.

"Yes," the assassin hissed, his face contorting.

Zelda smiled bitterly. "Then let me tell you a story. Sit down Demon." She smoothed her skirt around her legs and sank to the ground, waiting until the assassin did the same. "It is a long story and I will not tell it twice, so listen carefully."

"There was once a young Hylian noblewoman, unmarried and pregnant, who journeyed to Hyrule Castle to seek sanctuary from her oppressors. She was without wealth or power yet she became close with Hyrule's queen, who was also pregnant at the time, and with the queen's protector, a Shiekah warrior from a lost tribe. The three became near inseparable, so close that the queen and the noblewoman went into labour on the same day, perhaps even the same hour."

Zelda hesitated, the beginnings of glistening tears forming in her eyes. She swept them away with a gloved hand.

"The queen gave birth to a baby girl, yet the noblewoman's delivery was long and hard. She died during the night, and her baby with her, never having told anyone who had given her the child. The Shiekah and the queen mourned her passing, but even they quickly forgot the lonely girl who had shared a brief part of their lives."

The princess shivered. "Or at least that is the tale as it is told in Hyrule Castle. I suspect, based upon the hints Impa and Navi gave me, that the true story is somewhat different, that the baby did survive its mother's death, and that the Shiekah discovered or was shown a small symbol upon the back of the child's left hand. Those were dark times in Hyrule, filled with the danger of war with Aratia in the north and Gerudo in the south, and so the Shiekah took the babe to the one place she thought would keep him safe until his time came."

"The Great Forest," Demon rasped, "but I swear to you princess I do not know whether your story is true or not, and it changes nothing."

"I am not finished," Zelda said simply, "let me continue."

She waited as the assassin shifted uncomfortably and then settled. She wiped her eyes once again, and tucked her skirt tighter around her legs. Beneath her, the earth was cool, and she felt the beginnings of a shiver sweep through her.

"She took him to the Great Forest and placed him under the care of the Deku Tree. He was raised by the Kokiri, nourished by the forest, and even given his own fairy," she paused and stared into the assassin's eyes, "Navi."

Demon jerked like he had been hit, but remained silent. His hands knotted together in the grass before him, struggling against the fragile blades.

"The child grew up there in the forest, but in his heart lurked something that no ordinary Kokiri would have had: an urge to explore, to see the outside world. And so when he was too old to be a child, yet too young to be a man, he left the forest to seek his fortune."

Zelda sighed. "I do not know all of what happened during his adventures, yet I can tell you three things. Somehow the young man became the best swordsman any mortal had ever seen, somehow he became aware of what the mark upon his hand meant and came to see it as a curse, and somehow he found a woman evil enough to be a snake, yet beautiful enough to ensnare him anyway."

Eyes closed, Demon seemed to have stopped listening, yet the princess continued unabatedly.

"He loved her with a love vaster than oceans and deeper than the chasms of the world, yet she, snake in a woman's flesh, could not return it. I do not know how, I do not know why, but there came a day when she whispered all the poisoned words of her heart into his, and then abandoned him to his own terrible pain."

There was a long pause, in which Zelda closed her own eyes. The cricket chirped again and again, but no answering call came to comfort it. When the princess did continue it was only haltingly, reluctance obvious in her voice.

"The woman died that day...at the hands...at the hands of the man whose love had so quickly changed to hate. And yet he died that day as well, for the creature who stumbled his way to the Aratian arenas was no longer the adventurer raised among the Kokiri, but instead the shell of a man unable to escape the single action which had damned his life. His bloodied sword he hung up forever, yet his madness could not be denied, and so he chose new weapons to continue the killings. His name he abandoned as well, yet the crowd gave him a new one more akin to his new state. They called him..."

She paused as tears fell freely down her face into the damp earth. "They called him Demon," she whispered.

A flurry of activity in the air betrayed the departure of the owl as it glided away on silent wings. No other movement disturbed the scene, so peaceful on the surface, so turbulent beneath.

Demon opened his eyes and let them wander across the princess' face. The high cheekbones, the elfin features, the deep, familiar gaze that studied him in turn. He could almost feel the softness of her hair against his hands, the smoothness of her forehead against his own. He looked deeper into her eyes, and deeper, and saw something he did not dare believe.

"You see Demon," the princess breathed, "you cannot hide from me. I know your secrets, I know _you._ And as much as I can, I forgive you for what you have done."

Demon's face twisted. Forgiveness. So unexpected, so profound. He felt empty suddenly, suddenly adrift in the shadows both around and inside himself.

"I didn't kill her, princess," he rasped abruptly.

Zelda frowned. "You admitted it, Demon. In Hyrule Field during the blizzard. I didn't understand what you were saying at first, but I had much time to think in Kakoriko."

The assassin shook his head adamantly. "I thought I had killed you by leading you out into that storm. That's what I said. She, she loved me as I loved her." He blinked and slumped into his hands, images of a different time running through his head. How was he to explain to Zelda that he had loved her before and she no longer remembered? Better that the assassin continue the illusion of another woman, better to weave more lies than reveal the impossible truth. Better to...Goddesses he felt empty.

"Yet she is dead," the princess murmured.

Demon hissed under his breath. The ends of his hair emerged in tufts from between his fingers, wispy grey in the darkness. "She...took her own life." The sound of his voice was muffled by his hands. "I let her do it."

"Demon," Zelda whispered. She was on her feet, crossing the space between them. "Look at me, Demon."

He ignored her and crumpled lower into the grass. "She said it was necessary, yet it broke her, crushed her to do it. She said it was _right, _and" he looked up and the princess was shocked to see tears sliding down the assassin's cheeks, "I believed her," he whispered.

Zelda knelt beside him. Her hands wavered in the air, unsure of the unspoken boundaries between them, and then gently clasped Demon's face between her slim fingers. "Look at me," she pleaded, but his eyes saw right through to her to a place where she could not follow them. They were blue, a frigid, ravaged blue, and his face was cold to the touch.

"It was the wrong choice," he rasped, "her pride overcame her reason, and I hated her for it. Oh how I hated her. How I hated myself." He made a harsh choking sound deep in his throat, and fresh tears leaked from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Zelda whispered. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled the assassin to her until his rough cheek pressed into the silk of her dress. "I am so sorry." She felt his pain so clearly, seeing it, in retrospect, in all their conversations. Looking down at the man in her arms, so broken, so strong, she whispered a prayer and hugged him as close as his bulky costume would allow.

This was love before her, the princess realized. Hopeless and twisted yes, but still the flame of a passion that burned far brighter than any she had ever experienced. It enveloped her just by her proximity, entangling her in a confusion which seemed inevitable, almost inescapable.

Demon looked up to meet her eyes, and Zelda's breath caught in her throat. He pulled away from her and knelt himself, never breaking their connection. "You know why I swore to you princess? Because I think you are what she would have become if...if she had lived."

He leaned closer and the conviction in his eyes was hypnotizing. Zelda was falling, she was flying, she was leaning forward herself. Before her was the Hero of Time. Her Hero. The man she had dreamed of since childhood and the lover that Gabriel never could have been. How could she deny destiny? How could she deny the link that connected them across centuries and ages, a sacred chain that bound them together and defied the grave itself?

Then their lips touched, a gentle, tentative joining that chased all other concerns from Zelda's heart, and replaced them with an ache so tender it was almost painful. His hands, calloused but gentle, pressed against the base of her neck as they tangled themselves in her hair. It was logical, it was inevitable, it was _right..._

And then it was over. "No." Zelda whispered against his mouth, and the moment was broken. It shattered, crystal-like, into the twilight of maybe and could-have-been, and the princess pulled away. "I am not she," Zelda whispered, "I will not be the memory of another. I am sorry."

Slowly, Demon pulled back himself. "I know," he whispered his face as bleak as the blizzard they had survived. "I am sorry as well." He gained his feet, and a moment later he'd retrieved his possessions from beside the chair on the platform. "I love you, princess with the shadows I have left," he admitted, "she took everything else." He paused in his retreat from the garden, a momentary hesitation which he covered by ramming his hands into gauntlets, then he disappeared.

"Demon!" Zelda pleaded as she rose herself, brushing self-consciously at her hair. "Demon!" Her toes curled into the soft turf and she prepared to rush after him, only to realize that she could still discern his form from the shadows, if barely, at the edge of her vision.

It wavered indecisively, then coalesced as the assassin turned towards her. His eyes, his face, were lost in the darkness.

"I can be happy with shadows, as long as they are mine," Zelda whispered, "But you are not even shadow, are you? You are a hole where a man used to be, a glass without wine, a sheath without a sword. A-"

"Do you truly understand," Demon interrupted, "why I don't wear a sword?"

Zelda paused, crossing her arms. "Why did you kiss me Demon?"

"Why did you insist on dancing?" he hissed back.

"Could you forget her?"

"No."

"Could you forget me?"

"No!"

Sighing, Zelda wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "You are a very selfish man, do you realize that?"

A gust of wind swept through the willows, masking whatever the assassin's response had been. Yet the surprise in his eyes as he moved into the moonlight was unmistakable.

"You clutch all that you have, the anger, the frustration, the hate, even the love," Zelda continued, "and you clench it in your fist, like a child with a piece of candy."

Demon's fist clenched at his sides. "I have so little left."

"Yet you could have so much more," Zelda whispered. "Now you will haunt my dreams tonight, with a kiss you meant for another woman. You shame me, Demon."

A hint of crimson flashed in the assassin's eyes, suddenly distinguishing them from the blackness. "I _warned_ you princess. I told you to turn from this path. You refused."

"As did you," Zelda replied.

A laugh drifted over the hedges, loud and drunken. Both assassin and princess froze, senses straining towards the sound, only to hear the subsequent conversation fade as its source retreated towards the palace. A moth landed on Demon's shoulder and he brushed it away.

"This is your chance," Zelda proposed abruptly in the ensuing silence, "your chance to forget what is behind you and start anew...with me._ This is your chance..."_

She waited as long as her pride would allow, yet there was no answer. Demon did not even move. Zelda's eyes cooled as she tore them away from him.

"Goodnight assassin." she said, with a finality that sounded like the toll of a bell from the Clocktower above. "Come, tomorrow we begin our war."

No words were spoken between them as they walked the long path back to their quarters, there was nothing further to be said

000

"Again she fled, but swift he came,

Tinuviel! Tinuviel!

He called her by her elvish name;

And there she halted listening.

One moment stood she, and a spell

His voice laid on her: Beren came,

And doom fell on Tinuviel

That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes

Within the shadows of her hair,

The trembling starlight of the skies

He saw there mirrored shimmering.

Tinuviel the elven-fair,

Immortal maiden elven-wise,

About him cast her shadowy hair

And arms like silver glimmering."

-The Lay of Luthien

000

Author's Note: THAT was incredibly difficult to write. In the end I think it took me four months of on and off ponderings, the criticism of three betas, and the cruel laughter of my writing circle to get to this point...and frankly I'm not happy with it. Which is why I want ALL OF YOU to review. If you read this chapter, you have an opinion, and if you have an opinion then I want to hear it. Praise, flames, whatever, just give me whatever is in your head. If you don't feel I deserve a review than send my a private message, BUT MAKE SURE THAT YOU GIVE ME FEEDBACK.

Remember, everybody who read this chapter better review. It's five minutes of your time compared with 30+ hours of mine. Most of the time I'm happy with whoever feels inclined to review, but this section is somewhat pivotal. I need your thoughts.

In terms of responding to previous queries:

Froskirem: Demon's knives are either called the Bwa Kell or the Terim depending upon my mood. Both are stupid names, which is why I keep inventing more. At one point there was going to be a complicated plot thread involving the history of his knives, but I scrapped the idea once I realized it was a little too Salvatore-ish.

NovaShadowStorm: The Majora's Mask reference in the last chapter was my own private joke. It won't be showing up again and didn't really have much relevance to the plot. Think of it as a tribute to the source material. :-)

Cimar: I gave you a dancing scene, just like you wished. I'd say it was written specially for you, but I'm pretty sure that part was mostly completed last January. :-)

I recently got told (in the words of a reviewer who shall remain unnamed) that my story was "basic Fallen Jedi/Tarnished Knight paired with Gorgeous Princess/Holy Maiden." I wasn't sure whether to be bemused or insulted by this, but I'm hoping this chapter officially complicates the character relationship beyond the point where it can be compared to this basic formula. And I thank the unnamed reviewer for pointing out the stereotype, as I implied above, I love criticism. :-)

Of course, the stereotypes are exactly what made writing this chapter so complicated. We've all seen the classic ball scene, in which the two principle characters dance for the first time. We've also seen many first kisses, described in a variety of ways, some good and some bad. What makes a good kissing scene? A good dancing scene? I found while writing this scene that I had less adequate answers to those questions than I'd previously thought. (Fun Fact: I, Celeborn00, have never kissed anybody in my life, so I'm writing entirely from second-hand experience. If you don't like the scene, then there's my excuse. :-)

In fact, it took me about two months of pondering to decide who was going to break off that kiss, Demon or Zelda. I knew one of them had to pull away since their relationship as it currently stands isn't healthy, but I didn't know who it would be. I'm fairly confident I made the right choice, but I had to learn a lot more about the characters themselves before I was able to decide that.

And_ I still_ feel that this scene drags along like a wounded, bloated plot elephant. It should probably be 11 pages, not thirteen, and spend much less time describing people's eyes in vivid detail.

Goodbye, and remember to leave a review. It would be a small reward for the headache this chapter has caused me.

Celeborn00


	70. Chapter 68

It's Christmas Eve, which means I'm uploading another chapter. I apologize for it not being as exciting as last year's Christmas Eve special, but hey, I'm only human. Once again it's been a crazy semester and I decided to compound the insanity by taking a pretty intensive job, so today was the first time I'd looked at this chapter in four months. There are a couple things I could substantially change, but I decided to leave it. Some of it's sappy enough to make me gag, but as this is Fanfiction... :-)

Thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter, your comments were very helpful. I actually went back through and removed some of the more problematic elements (most prominently the whole horse cart/crushed legs thing) on your advice. You guys really gave me a lot to think about. :-)

Chapter 68

_"You can still change your mind."_

_"Can I?"_

_"Why not? The seal is strong, it won't break."_

_"You can't know that."_

_"No. But I've changed my mind, I won't do this."_

_"You promised to obey me."_

_"I can break my promise."_

_"But you won't."_

_"I might. Maybe I'll sweep you up, carry you to the temple, and kiss you while the world falls to pieces. That would be a good way to die."_

_"Don't tempt me Link, this is already...too hard."_

_"Good."_

_"I will wait for you, just like I promised."_

_"You mean that silly vow we made on Death Mountain?"_

_"It wasn't so silly then."_

_"Zelda, once you play that cursed song I'll be a ten year-old child.. How long will you wait, forty, fifty years?"_

_"Knowing you, it probably won't take that long."_

_"You're right, I'll just throw myself off a cliff..."_

_"Link!"_

_"I will!"_

_"Link, you must live. Dont wast this chance!"_

_"My life is worth nothing without you."_

_"You are my life, now and always. Remember that, Hero."_

_"..."_

_"Link?"_

_"I hate this, Zelda."_

_"So do I. The Goddesses better bless us in return. Maybe you'll awaken as the richest man in Hyrule."_

_"Ah, or perhaps the best looking?"_

_"You already are. Make...make...some nice girl happy, promise?"_

_"No! How can you ask such a thing? Especially now?"_

_"A lifetime is a long time to be alone. I'll forgive you...eventually."_

_"There will never be anyone else, princess. I swear it."_

_"Another of your 'silly vows'?"_

_"Zelda..."_

_"Don't make me cry, not here at the end of the word. Ah, too late."_

_"Zelda...I-"_

_"I know, Link. I know. You don't need to say it."_

_000_

The jingling of stirrups and reigns, armor and weapons seemed cheerful in the morning sun, although Zelda suspected she would soon grow tired of it. It mingled with the smell of leather and horse and gleaming metal to create something martial: the smell of an army marching to war.

One either side of the princess rode soldiers of Garret's personal guard, complete with their characteristic silver and black armor and crescent moon helmets. Zelda had been surprised to find them still donning the colours and symbols of the Maiden after the destruction of her temple, yet the Terminians either had forgotten or ignored the connection. Silver and black were the colours of House Telcontar, Zelda reasoned, perhaps the design only appeared to have religious roots? She wished the soldier to her left would stop stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking, it kept breaking her concentration. And when her concentration broke...

Well, it wouldn't break. Turning in her saddle, Zelda looked back over her shoulder at the long columns of men behind her. The first thousand or so were mounted, Garret's cavalry, but behind that men marched in even lines as far as she could see. Granted they only marched twenty abreast and the shimmering morning heat made her vision unreliable, but she knew it was more than nine thousands. All of them armed and ready to stand against the might of the Great Darkness.

Zelda's mount whickered and she patted its neck as she returned her gaze forward. The white palfrey was beautiful but high spirited, and Zelda secretly wished she'd been given a less willful mount. The present one made a powerful impression upon the army surely, but the princess suspected it was also planning to rid itself of her as soon as possible. The palfrey turned its head, evaluating, and Zelda suppressed a shiver.

All the other horses seemed to obey their riders unquestioningly, why not hers? Zelda's mind wandered back to long lessons with Impa, who had insisted on taking the place of the stable-master as her riding instructor. At first the princess had been thrilled - until she'd spend the first five lessons mucking stalls without ever so much as touching a saddle. _If Impa were here you wouldn't dare be so insolent_, she accused the horse, but Impa was dead and the palfrey just snorted.

Thankfully it had behaved itself within the walls of Clocktown, where a mishap would have had thousands instead of dozens of witnesses. The march from the gates of the Forbidden Palace to the city wall had drawn almost every inhabitant within the city limits, creating a human sea which covered every non-vertical surface with a view of the procession. Half-blinded by great banners and deafened by the incessant trumpets, Zelda had still been awed by the scale of the crowd, and this time, unlike in Silva, they had cheered her name as much as Garret's. The sandstone buildings, glowing pale pink in the morning sun, had rang with the thunder of thousands of voices. Some of those voices had cheered the nobles on to war, while others had pleaded with them to stay their madness. Zelda could only pity the populace as they watched their leadership march away from a city seething with apocalyptic prophecy and dire rumours. The job of those left behind, to stay and carry on their normal lives while waiting for news of salvation or disaster, was almost as tough as going to actually fight in the war.

In her mind's eye the princess could still see Tieresius standing above the city gate, chanting away in some strange and ancient language. In his new position as high priest to the three Goddesses, he was required to wear more colourful robes than before, but something of his old melancholy remained. Perhaps it had been the gravity of their departure, but Zelda had thought she'd heard an undertone of mourning in the priest's words as he'd sprinkled the party with holy oil. As if he were praying for their souls rather than their victory, as if he didn't expect them to return.

_What a cheery thought_, Zelda mused wryly, and found her mind turning to other, even less cheerful subjects. Immediately she searched for a distraction. _I'll go talk to Garret_, she decided_, about his plans for the campaign._ Garrett, by all accounts, was the most brilliant military commander in Terminian history, and he had an army of nine thousand! In her life Zelda had never seen a force of its size. _Tieresius is mistaken_, she decided,_ Garrett will not be defeated._

She found the prince riding in a small knot of men at the front of the column. His brown locks stirred wantonly in the breeze, brushing against armor polished to a blinding shine. The great destrier he rode was eighteen hands tall and black as midnight. Four generals rode around him, addressing their prince in turns, but they broke off as Zelda approached.

"Princess!" Garret laughed as their eyes met, "welcome to the army! A fine day to march off to war, don't you think?"

"I can't say," Zelda replied, "until I've found someone who's actually marching, I'd hardly want to speak in their place."

Garret roared with laughter. "If you're the one asking, you'll get the same answer every time," he choked out after a moment, "My soldiers would march their way into the grave before they'd admit to a woman they wanted a rest."

Two of the four generals looked at the prince in dismay, while the other two struggled to hide grins. Zelda studiously ignored them, she was too familiar with Garrett's witticisms to take offence.

"My prince what happened to your cheek?" she asked too innocently. "It looks rather tender."

Garret paused and touched his face subconsciously. "Is it that obvious?" he asked in a hushed tone. "No one seemed to notice in Clocktown. At least-" he whitened noticeably, "Goddesses Zelda, I'm going to have that woman thrown off the top of the Clock Tower!"

Zelda nudged her palfrey alongside his mount, closing the distance so that they could speak more freely. "It isn't obvious at all," she muttered, "but I had the benefit of Leon's companionship during the ride through the city so I knew what to look for. Keane has a strong arm."

Garret winced appreciatively. "She has the temper of a badger and the strength of a bear." One of the generals snorted, and Garret waved them away unceremoniously. Within moments he and Zelda were alone in the pocket between the Terminian vanguard and his personal guards. Only Toc, new-returned from his exile in the outer city, remained close enough to overhear their conversation.

Instead of answering, Zelda twisted away to smile at the prince's faithful bodyguard. "Is that true, Toc?" she asked. "Does Keane strike terror into all of Termina's men?"

"Mostly, princess." The big man's answer was loyal, if reluctant. He didn't turn his head to meet her gaze, but instead stared fixedly ahead, the length of his braided beard bouncing against his chest as he rode.

"I didn't say she scared me," Garret growled, "she's just...unpredictable." He glared at Toc. "You're paid to fight not speak," he warned.

Zelda reached across the gap to pat the prince's calf, which, because of the difference in the height of their horses, was near her waist. "Your secret is safe with me," she soothed.

"It won't matter with Leon jabbering to anyone willing to listen." Garret rubbed his face again, but this time his expression was sad rather than embarrassed. "I wouldn't let her or the rest of the Valkyries come along, princess. That's what she slapped me for. She wanted to go to war, and I refused her."

"Why?" Zelda asked quietly.

"I won't lie to you," Garret answered after a moment's pause. "Selena and her ladies are better fighters than many of the men marching behind us, but they aren't soldiers. I need soldiers now, not fighters-with the exception of the Lord Demon of course-who seems to be an army in himself."

Zelda winced when the prince mentioned _his_ name, and was thankful that Garret happened to be looking at Toc, not her, and missed her reaction. The princess' face may not have borne a faint red handprint, yet she had her own embarrassments just as raw.

They rode in silence while she collected her thoughts, their mounts adding to the cloud of dust which lingered around the army. A farmer standing by a quaint ivy-laden cottage bowed his head and drew the crescent moon upon himself as they passed, but Garret nodded in gratitude anyway. The transition away from the Maiden had been difficult enough for the common folk, and the prince obviously saw no need to punish a man for blessing him in the old ways.

The road wandered through a patchwork of fields which spread out in long columns into the distance. Most were covered in the rippling gold of wheat, although occasionally there were smaller patches of lentils, or root vegetables. Clusters of country folk leaned casually against fences and hedgerows, watching the army pass in a cautious silence which extended even to their children. Behind them scarecrows moved in the wind, more animated by far than their human creators.

"What is the difference between a soldier and a fighter?" Zelda asked after a time. She glanced at Garret as she rode, his strong jaw and handsome features making her feel sympathy for Keane. Zelda suspected that the noblewoman had discovered other reasons besides war for wanting to stay near her prince.

"What, princess?" Garret responded, with a distracted air that made Zelda sympathize with him as well. Perhaps Keane wasn't the only one who was suffering.

Once Zelda repeated the question though, the prince was quick to answer.

"A fighter is the one you'd put your bet on in a duel or single combat, a dangerous warrior, but one who fights alone more often than not. A soldier is a man...or woman...trained to fight as part of a unit. They can hold a line, form a shield-wall or a phalanx, and protect their comrades in battle."

Zelda frowned, puzzled. "But a soldier needs to be able to fight too, not just fill a spot in the ranks."

"Of course, princess." Garret winked at her as he spoke, his good humour returning. "But in a battle of armies, a gap in the ranks can turn victory into a rout. I'd take a man who understands discipline over a pit champion any day...especially against monsters."

Squinting against the sun, Zelda studied the regimental lines of the vanguard before her. "Against monsters?"

"They're bigger, stronger, and dumber than any soldier, so we'll use formations against them. If the formation holds, we'll be able to defeat twice our number easily, but if they can force a gap, they'll tear through the entire company like butter. A few reckless fools can get a hundred men killed."

"It seems rather risky," the princess noted, "to gamble the success of the entire battle on not having any fools among nine thousand men."

"Ah well," Garret grinned crookedly, "I don't suffer fools but I do expect them. That's why I brought a full five divisions of heavy cavalry. Have you ever seen a cavalry charge, princess?"

"I thought not," he continued before she could answer. "It's the job of the cavalry to buy the infantry time to reform the lines, or even shatter the enemy's formations if he has them. We'll put the holy fear into them, by the Goddesses!"

Zelda saw the prince's hand twitch towards his sword-hilt as he straightened excitedly in his saddle. Then his expression clouded and he looked worriedly into the distance.

"The real problem," he confided, "will be getting through the mountain pass. Even the moblins understand that the pass is too narrow for formations, and there are a million blasted holes for them to hide in!" He sighed. "And no cavalry, I can't lead a charge up the side of a mountain."

"But you do have a plan," Zelda pressed.

"I have my rangers and you have the Goddesses," Garret explained, then smiled. "What more do I need?"

_A plan_, Zelda repeated inside her head, but the words didn't make it to her throat. Instead, she pulled a lace kerchief from her sleeve and used it to wipe some of the dust from her face. The princess hadn't considered the possibility that the mountain pass would still be dangerous, even when travelling as part of an army, and she found the possibility unsettling. What if the Aratians ambushed them? What if the Terminians had too many 'fighters' and not enough 'soldiers' as Garret had described them?

Abruptly Zelda felt very alone, despite the men in ranks all round her.

"Where are you hiding the Lord Demon?" Garret asked curiously. "I haven't seen him since passing through the gate. I assumed he was with you."

The princess worked hard to keep her face from betraying her. "I'm not sure, I think he's near the back...with the men."

Garret frowned. "He better not start any duels. Goddesses, but that man can cause problems! If only someone else could have been the Hero, say me for example..."

Zelda stiffened in her saddle, and then almost fell out of it as the palfrey twisted beneath her. Her shocked eyes met Garret's and saw the mirth there, concealing something deeper.

"A jest, princess. I would not want the responsibility," he soothed, but looked away too quickly. "Perhaps you desire a different mount, this one seems eager to get rid of you."

But Zelda was still pondering the look in his eyes. "It's fine, very beautiful," she answered half-heartedly, and then let herself fall back, away from Garret and Toc. Immediately the four generals returned to replace her, and began once again badgering the prince with questions.

_He wishes he was the Hero_, Zelda decided, and then realized the fact didn't really surprise her. Garret was a good friend and a better leader, but he hungered for glory like a stray dog after a piece of meat. For a moment, the princess' mind returned to her first sword lesson in the garden quarter, and the rage which had appeared in Garret's face when Demon had defeated him three times in a row. He was the darling of Termina and he wasn't used to standing in anyone's shadow, even the Hero of Time's.

The Hero of Time. Demon. Zelda was thinking about him again even after all her careful concentration. She clenched her fists at her sides and frowned stormily forwards. She'd promised herself she wouldn't brood, wouldn't spend another day thinking about what she'd said in the darkness or they way he'd looked at her while they danced. _Stop it,_ Zelda scolded herself_, you've been over this a hundred times..._

_ Yet I could remember it a thousand more,_ she admitted to herself, and blushed as she realized she'd brought a hand up to brush against her lips. The anger warmed in her heart to suppress the other, painful emotion, and her eyes darkened. _How you torture me assassin_._ Here I am ready to reconquer Hyrule, an army at my back, and hope returned, yet you have stolen my joy. Why did you kiss me Demon? Why did you give a silly girl her dream for a moment, only to snatch it away?_

Instead of trying to answer her own questions, Zelda glanced up at the sky. A few insubstantial clouds floated in the blue, parched and small against the glory of the summer sun. One looked familiar and as the princess stared at it she could just make out-no, she was deceiving herself.

"_I love you with all the shadows I have left,"_ he had said, and Zelda tasted bitterness as she remembered. How could he hide behind this talk of shadows? He was flesh and blood just like her, able to break with the past if he so wished. Did Demon not feel what she'd felt when they'd danced, when they'd ... kissed? How could a dead woman have such control over him?

_He says he's the shadow, yet he chooses shadows over me, _Zelda decided angrily. For a moment she was tempted to encourage the anger, but only for a moment before it began to ebb away. _If this is tearing me apart_, she thought, _than it must be nearly driving him insane._ As angry as she was, Zelda knew that Demon would blame himself for her pain as well as his own, and the strength of his attachment to the past was matched only by his desire to protect her.

Yet the princess had been angry at first, viciously, maddeningly angry. Now, two days since the night of the Festival, she was resigned rather than furious. _I wish it could be, Demon. In time I could heal you, and you could accept me. I know it._ She felt the blossom of their single kiss, and the betrayal of the assassin's silence after she had offered him...what? Her understanding? Her love? Herself? _I have to forget that offer._

She needed Demon, needed him to help her save Hyrule, and to fill the place in her chest that ached whenever she thought about him. Since the Festival she'd seen him only at a distance, and now, when by rights he should he at her side, he was hiding somewhere among the marching regiments behind her. _I have to forget that offer, _she repeated, _or he'll never come back to me. I can't make him choose between us, for he can't choose. It will only destroy him._

And yet the princess still wanted to weep, to hope, for what could have been, for what had ended after being so barely begun. For Demon: the man she'd almost loved.

000

"I thought I might find you here," Teiresius said.

Climbing the rest of the way up the ladder he levered himself over the lip of the council chamber and planted both feet upon the metal disk. His painted canvas slippers rasped against the roughness, yet the noise was muffled by the ambient sound of the Clocktower itself. As soon as his hands left the ladder they disappeared back into the deep pockets of his robes, just as his torso regained its familiar slump.

"And yet you didn't think to leave me in peace," the king replied gruffly. He sat not upon his customary throne, but instead one of the seats in the upper balcony of rings. It was the widest ring and therefore turned the fastest of any, although the journey was so smooth that the monarch hardly seemed to notice his gradual circumference of the chamber.

"Did you want to be left in peace? I did not think you were a man to desire such solitude, but my memory does have many holes..."

There was a long silence in which Teiresius felt the other man's gaze upon him, even as he let the king's long orbit leave his field of vision. "Come sit with me," the king finally said.

As he climbed upwards from the central disc, the priest could not help but notice the long lines which seemed to have sprung so suddenly to his monarch's face. The once-impressive frame crumpled inwards on itself as the man inside succumbed to age and worry. The scepter, symbol of power and authority, was nowhere to be seen, and without it the king seemed almost naked.

"You regret your decision," Teiresius stated bluntly as he sank into the adjacent chair and adjusted his robes around himself.

"It is was made at the urging of a pretty woman and her pet killer. But it was the wrong choice."

"Why," the priest asked quietly.

Telcontar turned, his large, scarred hands clenching and unclenching on the armrests. "Nine thousands are not enough to defeat the army gathering in Hyrule. I have sent my son, _my only son_, and nine thousand of my subjects to their death because of a long winter and a few bits of prophecy."

Teiresius sighed. "There is fear in you."

"There is also wisdom," the king barked. "And do not tell me you cannot see it. Perhaps Zelda and her murderer can use the slaughter to achieve their ends, or perhaps not, but it will be a slaughter either way. And I have sent my son..."

The priest rubbed his eyes, sliding his hands down his face until they fell to his lap. "All battles are slaughters when viewed from the correct perspective, but...I am no liar my king, I did not come here to calm your fears."

"Of course not." There was bitterness in the king's tone, but no more than was customary. He stretched against his seat, his burdened spine cracking and popping in protest. "I have lost my son and yet you seek to vex me further."

"Your son is far from dead," Tieresius responded sharply, "you bid him farewell only this morning."

The king muttered something, yet it was inaudible under the dull thrum of the tower. "What have you come to tell me?" he asked in a louder voice.

"I have come to warn you," the priest muttered and touched the emblazoned Triforce on his robes reflexively. "On the day I killed the Maiden, Wisdom asked me if I could still foretell the future."

Telcontar nodded slowly. "I remember those days. I remember the first time Ariadne appeared at court, and you told me I would marry her." He scoffed. "I hardly knew the girl!"

"I was right."

"You put the idea into my head," the king allowed, "perhaps if you'd said nothing..."

"I told Wisdom the power had passed to another," Tieresius continued, "yet I lied when I said I did not know who now possessed it."

There was tense, dark silence, then the king swore explosively. "Goddesses, priest! Who! Bring him at once!"

"Why?" the priest asked quietly.

Telcontar's eyes were dark with fury and disbelief. "Did the Maiden rot all your brains, priest? To ask him about the campaign of course! There's still time to call them back if we act quickly. Still time to save them!"

"As you wish," Tieresius answered. He stood up from his chair and gave a single shout. "Alexander!"

Immediately, a small golden head appeared through the portal in the floor as the boy climbed awkwardly up the ladder. His new robes were too long for him and twisted around his ankles, and so it was only through great deliberation that he made it onto the disc without incident. In silence he ascended disc after disc until he stood in stoic silence before the king.

Telcontar leaned forward. "What-"

"I should warn you that the future of this war is most complicated," Teiresius interrupted him, "the visions are fast and fragmented, and Alexander has not yet the training to separate them."

"Silence, priest!" the king admonished. "Let him speak! What can you tell me, boy?"

Alexander hesitated, looking to Teiresius, who nodded silently. "I see..," he began, "I see...you!" He pointed to the king. "In this room, holding a silver crown...no, not yours...and you're crying!" The boy tilted his head to the side and frowned. "You look younger."

"Are there four emeralds in the crown?" Teiresius asked gently. Beside him the king abruptly went pale.

"Yes,"

"That is the past then." The priest patted Alexander's hand. "Try to find the future."

"Garret!" Telcontar urged. "Tell me of my son."

Alexander closed his eyes and let his fingers run down the hemming of his robes. "Garret...a battle...he's charging the moblins on his big horse...he killed one...he's winning! The moblins are running! Oh, his horse is wounded." Alexander opened his eyes.

"Is that it?" the king asked helplessly.

"It switched to Zelda." The boy's tone was apologetic. "She looks sad...but she's kissing a man with red hair! They're kissing and now he's laughing, not a good laugh, and..." Alexander blushed.

"What else!" the king breathed.

The boy looked at him curiously. "Who's Lilian?"

"The past again,' Teiresius urged, ignoring the king's strangled curse. "Tell us the future."

Alexander paled. "I see the Lord Demon," he whispered. "I see him sitting on a steel throne...it's dark and there are things moving in the darkness...Moblins! They're obeying him, Tieresius, they're following his orders! His eyes! Ah!"

"Stop!" The priest said, and then Alexander was in his arms. "Come back to us," he whispered, "Come back to this place."

"Is he hurt?" the king asked, moving forward in concern.

Tieresius grabbed the boy's face and forced him to look up into the priest's own. "No," he said finally, "He is still here."

Immediately Telcontar's expression went from anxious to enraged. He rose from his chair with fury taut in every movement, the old sinews remember the vigour of their passion. "I should have known the Demon will betray them. He wishes to rule the moblins does he, to set himself up as a dark king? Bring me my fastest messenger, Garret must be warned!"

"That would not be wise," Teiresius said reluctantly.

The king turned on him, eyes flashing. "Explain."

"There are two reasons, my king. First, Alexander is not skilled enough in the talent to fully comprehend what he sees, so he may envision only part of the truth, or even interpret it falsely. Perhaps the steel throne is part of Demon's past."

"All the more reason Garret be warned," Telcontar argued.

"Second," the priest continued, "I remind you of your own question, 'Would you have married Ariadne if I had not told you she was your future wife?' Would you have picked her from among the crowd of ladies throwing themselves at you?"

Telcontar shifted uneasily, confused. "Perhaps."

"And perhaps not," the priest finished. "This future where Demon betrays us...is it the future where Garret is not warned of this vision, or one where he is? What action pushes him into the arms of the enemy, and what future is it that Alexander has seen?"

The king drew himself up, using his big frame to its fullest advantage. He looked between Alexander to Teiresius several times and each time his mouth opened and then closed silently. Then he slumped. "It was cruel of you to tell me this," he said hollowly.

"The gift always creates more questions than it answers," Teiresius said. "Do you wish to know why I revealed the boy to you, instead of keeping him hidden?" The priest did not wait for an answer, but rose from his chair as he spoke. "Alexander saw us three, talking here in this place. I was waiting for you to visit it."

Taking Alexander's hand, he led the boy across the rings back to the ladder, and left a truly speechless king behind.

000

Sometimes, Demon decided, it was nice to be feared.

He rode with all the precision of the Clocktower mechanisms, a steady, efficient series of movements as relentless as they were repetitive. The sun beat down upon his flat black armor, yet the assassin did not colour, did not sweat, and, most importantly, did not _feel_. His focus was absolute, and since none of Termina's soldiers felt brave enough to address him, he had few distractions.

_Yes, _he affirmed,_ it is nice to be feared._

The assassin rode with the rearguard of the army, both those designated to such duty and those too slow to stay with their comrades farther up in the ranks. He was one of the few who were fortunate enough to be mounted and his black armour was a rotten kernel against the marching ranks of ripe gold-and-dun, yet few even dared to cast a glance in his direction. The Lord Demon was not to be trifled with, it was whispered around, even if he was supposed to save the world.

Although, truth-be-told, Demon didn't feel like being a saviour. His single reason for accepting the role was riding near the front of the host, and she and he were not on speaking terms._ She's arguing with herself, making decisions and solidifying them, _he thought,_ changing things._ He had refused her in the darkness among the willows, the first time she had seen him as a man rather than a protector, and that would not be forgiven. It could not be forgiven, Demon needed to make sure of it.

He closed his eyes and held his breath as a fresh onslaught of dust swept over his company, eliciting a chorus of coughs and curses. It was only mid-afternoon and yet already he could feel grit in his mouth, hair, and creased into the skin beneath his armor. If Demon had looked up (which he was wise enough not to) he knew the sun would be dull red. An army could raise a lot of dust, and dust could block sunlight as effectively as any fog, while also spoiling food, dulling weapons, and generally being irritating.

_Not irritating enough to distract me though_, Demon realized unhappily, and glared at a farmer making a common warding gesture from beside the road. _You wanted to be feared, _he reminded himself_, you wanted this. You wanted her to forget and marry Garrett. That's what you decided yesterday._

The assassin realized he was still staring at the farmer and wrenched his suddenly burning gaze away. The man turned and began to run back towards his barn, tripping over rows of tomato plants as he went.

_I decided that, _Demon admitted,_ and I meant it until..._

_ I never meant it._ There had been something almost inevitable about the night of the Festival, a force driven by the intensity of their relationship and the nature of their journey together. He and Zelda were drawn to each other, two magnets in a sea of pebbles, and the assassin' had both desired and feared the day when she would realize what that meant, what it had always meant. _Yet this time it is different. You are no shining Hero, you are not worthy of what she offers. _

She would never look at him the same again, he knew. Always now there would be the secret hardness, the knowledge that he had shunned her hidden in her eyes. She wouldn't hate him, Zelda was too strong for that, but there would be a lingering sadness and then...

Indifference.

Eventually the princess would accept that he was broken, and her gaze would turn elsewhere. Demon's eyes blazed red at the very thought. He loved Zelda, and even if he couldn't figure out how much or which one, she was everything that kept him fighting to defeat evil. If she were to drift too far away the hole she'd leave would be bottomless.

Demon blinked, and saw himself standing in the arenas again, dark liquid dripping from glittering blades. _Would I go back, _he wondered, _could I go back?_ The old anger stirred within him, tying his stomach in uncomfortable knots. Could he let another man marry the princess? Or would she wake up one morning to find her bed soaked in blood and a knife buried in her husband's throat.

He saw himself open his eyes, the old crimson, and grin the old grin that was nine parts madness and another part evil. _You need me, _he heard the shade whisper_, take me back. Let me in._

"No!" Demon hissed under his breath as he returned to reality. He'd tasted deep enough of the darkness for one lifetime. He would never be free, but he could contain it couldn't he? He would control it, wouldn't he?

_You act like you have a choice, you selfish bastard. Like there was a future where you and the princess lived happily together, and got married, and had beautiful children. Of the paths before you there are none that lead to that end. You have fallen too far for that, Butcher._

_ Besides, what kind of life would that be for one such as you? A murderer? An assassin? You will die on the battlefield, or, if you fail to find a capable opponent, you will slit your own throat. There will be no peace for you, no wedding bells and squalling babes._

_There will be no grave for the warrior of darkness._

__000

Author's Note: As you can probably tell, I found it a little difficult to transition away from the last chapter while starting a new plot arc. There's an awful lot of navel gazing here, and most of it's inscrutable without a fresh memory of the chapters about the Festival. I'm sorry for that, but you'd thank me if you were doing a straight read-through. Actually, it had been a while since I wrote an serious naval-gazing in this story, and so I was really trying to portray character as opposed to pure, unblemished angst. It still isn't what I'd consider high literature, but I am proud of Demon's perspective especially, and his speculation on Zelda's indifference. Now that he has evidence that Zelda does care, he's having a hard time regressing to his fatalist mentality. :-) He sort of wants to have his cake and eat it too, if you know what I mean.

The middle bit on prophecy is guilty of incorporating a bit of personal editorial. I'm not a big fan of conventional prophecy in fantasy literature, as I find it somewhat self-defeating. Some authors seem to use prophecy as a measuring stick against which their characters measure the "success" of their various tasks, and dither endlessly about whether or not they're fulfilling its criteria. Worse still, some authors see prophecy as a literary bungee cord tied around the ankle of the protagonist, with the power to bounce him or her back on course no matter what the proto's action. I had a disagreement with another fic author a year ago about a plot arc in his story which sent four characters marching out into the Gerudo Desert in the vague hope that something dynamically prophetic would happen to them and they would fulfill a mysterious couplet from some ancient book. In this circumstance, when character action is directly motivated by prophecy, I find the situation at best paradoxical and at worst, rather silly. If prophecy has such strong influence over plot then why couldn't the four have just stayed at home, poured some ale, kicked up their heels and waited for prophecy to come find them? Eventually the bungee cord has to recoil, no matter what the action of the individual characters (I'm actually reminded of an Middle Eastern proverb about Death, but it would take too long to relate here).

In my opinion, prophetic devices should not be used to cognitively influence characters, but instead to enhance narrative. In my scene, the King is given powerful and contradictory visions of Garret, Demon, and Zelda, yet is denied the ability to act on them. The purpose of these visions is then to present the reader with incomprehensible images of future (or past) scenarios, and ask them how such visions could be incorporated into the plot of Forgotten Demons. Therefore prophecy is actually more important to the audience than to the characters, as they have a much more potent understanding of its implication than the characters themselves (especially the implication of "red hair" :-)

But anyway,

Merry Christmas! Have a wonderful life!


	71. Chapter 69

Hey guys,

So it's been a long time again and I realize that. Once again I've written thousands and thousands of words this year but very little of it has been on this particular work. I've spent a lot of time thinking about Demon and Zelda and where I want this story to go, but I've had other projects to start and finish and more important things to work on.

Now, after more than a year of running a newspaper pretty much full time (for a lot of it), I'm getting the chance to take a month and pretty much do what I want with it. I'm going to learn how to paint watercolour (at least a little), do some drawing, and generally pursue some things that I've put off for years. I'm also going to write the next three or four chapters on this story, which should take me very close to the end.

I want to thank all of you who reviewed the last chapter, especially Thundercloud7 who was kind enough to point out a number of errors. :-) I would also like to point out (for those of you who seemed confused on this) that Garret has brown hair. Take that as you will.

Chapter 69

Pebbles skittered under Omar's feet as he trudged his way up the rim of the valley and into the boulder field. His heavy black boots, covered in dust from the day's ride, slid maddeningly on the skree, turning every step forward into a half-step back. Yet the soldier laboured on, muttering and cursing under his breath as he went.

Twilight covered Death Mountain. For once the chill wind had ceased, and a sleepy pall lay across the great volcano and the weary army camped on its shoulders. The rock lichens, so colourful during the day, stood out like patches of quartz on every boulder, contrasting the basalt upon which they grew. The boulders themselves were stone sentries, strewn across the mountainside around and within the camp and hiding the real sentinels who lurked in their shadows.

Omar had been challenged twice since leaving the camp, and had no intention of crossing the third and outermost ring of sentries. The main item of conversation among his comrades was the threat of a moblin assault, and Omar was having a hard time not seeing the pig-faced monsters in every shadow. If his reckoning was right, he'd almost been killed by moblins the last time he was in this valley. Only the timely arrival of Demon and the princess had saved him from the stew-pot.

_Stew-pot,_ he thought regretfully as the image conjured a whole different set of ideas, _stewed chicken and carrots, mutton and onions, dumplings! _ Omar was forced to remember himself as his inattention caused a stumble. The threat of moblins had convinced Garret to forbid cooking fires, and so his disgruntled army was dining on fruit and biscuits. The restriction was made worse each time a man's eyes were dragged to the supply wagons at the center of the camp, which positively burst with meat.

Omar's plight wasn't as bad as some, his privileged position as a member of the prince's guard guaranteed him a jerky and wine ration that the common foot soldiers could only dream of. Unfortunately, while his jerky wasn't in any danger, he suspected his absence from camp would cost him the wine. Of the newly appointed guard-captains, Russ might be willing to hold his ration, but Leon would never be so generous. Only the night before, he'd appropriated four men's wine for being in the latrine during roll call. Strictly a disciplinary action he'd assured them, and the guard had believed it until they'd heard the wild singing from his tent later that night.

Abruptly Omar paused, staring at a patch of grey in the shelter of two boulders. It seemed to be an appropriate place, and so he knelt beside it and pulled off his leather gloves, frowning at the smell of dust and stale sweat they released. Such smells had grown strange to him during his extended stay in Clocktown, especially after Prince Garret had invited the soldier into his bodyguard.

Omar didn't know what he'd done to deserve such an honour, although he suspected that it had something to do with Princess Zelda. At first he'd been intimidated by the prestigious guard, which was filled with second-sons of noble houses and heroes of the general army, yet he'd quickly grown accustomed to the easy camraderie and extravagant life-style. He and the other base-born members had spent their time in Clocktown while Garret languished in the Forbidden Palace. The memories, for a man who'd previously never had more than two gold rupees to rub together, were extraordinarily sweet.

Yet, as in all of life, there were drawbacks to his new rank. _Like riding my bloody arse off, just so the moblins will get to eat me sooner. _Omar winced at his own thoughts_. _He'd cheered just like everyone else when war had been announced in the city, but his mind had been full of blood and moblins. It was hard, he'd found, to ride willingly back to the mountains so recently after escaping from them. Unfair even...

Which was why he was alone up on the mountainside, waiting for the end of the cursed twilight.

He swiveled to study his surroundings, satisfying himself that he hadn't attracted any witnesses. As he turned, he dipped his left hand into a pouch at his waist and let his fingers root through a tangle of rupees and talismans to close around a smooth, rounded stone. It seemed bigger than what his mother had pressed into his palm before the Festival, heavier, but he recognized the shape instantly_. Do not forget_, she'd said, _do not lose faith._

Omar rubbed the small tattoo on his palm, ashamed as if it were a slaver's mark. He regretted that choice now, regretted immortalizing his allegiance to the Maiden with that small, crescent moon tattoo. It had forced him into an eternally gloved existence, just like the Lord Demon, except for a much less noble reason. Demon had been hiding the mark of a divine power upon his person, Omar just wanted to keep his rank.

_The things I do for you, mother,_ the soldier mused, and pulled the stone from his pouch. And yet it wasn't a stone, it was a seed, and it glistened in the moonlight like a precious jewel eager to return to the dark womb of the earth. Omar beheld it for a moment and the reflected light gleamed in his eyes, then he cupped it in his hands and began to pray.

000

It was dark now, and the Terminian sentry could feel the world shrinking around him. No longer was he standing upon the slope of a mountain with a view across western Termina, now it was only a small, shadowed circle of boulders. Suddenly ominous in the darkness, they seemed to loom larger, to stare at him in anticipation.

His hands clutched the stone beneath him as he scrabbled a little higher on his own rock. He could feel the leather of his boots being gouged, and the seams of his coat rubbing rough against the basalt. The friction seemed absurdly loud in the darkness, and suddenly the sentry felt vulnerable, unprotected. He froze, hearing his own heart, his own breathing, and the shifting, rolling, clacking of heavy tread upon the scree.

A trumpet blew to his right, another to his left, as the sound became a roar of continuous noise. It was as if a great fissure had opened and all the loose stone on the mountainside was rolling down and down and down and down...

Then the moblin war cries could be heard, and the sentry knew, deep in his heart, what was to come. He knew as he drew his sword, and he knew as he added his own voice to the general chaos, and he knew even before the spear came flashing out of the dark and took him in the leg

He knew the thing that all soldiers learn in the end. And then the world shrank still further.

000

"...Guide us in the darkness," Omar whispered, "Protect us in the twilight. Make us strong in warring, and wise in our rebuilding. May you forever put stars in the sky and dreams-"

He broke off as the sound of trumpets shattered his concentration. Trumpets meant one thing, and before he could stop himself he was up and turning, sword in hand. Yet abruptly he froze and looked back at the seed lying abandoned on the ground, his face twisting in frustration. "Be it upon your head, mother," he muttered, "if I get killed while worshipping a false goddess."

But that did not stop him from kneeling again, and carefully burying the seed with a few quick scoops of gravel and a deft stomp. Afterwards, he drew the crescent moon upon his chest.

In a way Omar was glad the attack had come, for he found that he was no longer afraid. There was no point in fear anymore, since there was no longer anywhere to run. _When you can't flee_, Omar decided, _you have to fight._

He turned, sword in hand, and rushed to war.

000

The night seethed with the grunt, shriek, and clash of battle. All was shadow, and all shadow was full of moblins with their porcine growls and eerie, mirrored eyes. They moved like a tide among the boulders, agile hooves never missing a step as they broke the inner sentry rings and drove to the edge of the main camp. Drove, even, into the first ranks of tents as men scrambled to weapons and readiness.

Some of the monsters bore short, lacquered stabbing spears with leaf-shaped blades. Other wielded jagged scimitars and diverted blows with wooden bucklers draped in the hides of unrecognizable beasts. Every so often, a moblin chieftain would appear in the ranks with a great horn hanging from his side and a massive bronze ring through his nose. The warhammers born by these chieftains were said to be forged from the belt-buckles of defeated foes, and they wielded them with the skill of a thousand battles.

This was their hour. In the darkness, where their senses were far superior to their human counterparts, they strove to break the Terminian host into fragments scattered along the valley. If they succeeded, even the superiority of Termina's steel would not long save its sons from annihilation. Blind, harried, and alone, they would be pulled down, one by one, until none remained.

The Terminians understood their danger, yet could not seem to turn the charge. Instead they fell back, bleeding ground and men, as units struggled to organize, and captains bellowed incoherent orders into the general disarray. The soldiers were disciplined enough to fight well amidst the chaos, but they were retreating and splintering amidst the remains of their camp. Soon the moblin wedge would divide them, then divide them again, and the rout would turn into a massacre.

Thus they fought, and thus they died, their bodies becoming shadows within shadows. And the world turned, and the eternal dice tumbled in their cup, and the Goddesses...

Well, amidst the dark, and the blood, and the screams, the Goddesses seemed very far away indeed.

000

"To the princess," Garret roared, waving his crimson-stained sword, "And light the pyres!" He turned to rush back into the fray, only to harken to a three-note blast on a trumpet and drop flat. A flight of arrows hummed over his head and into the moblin advance, slaying a dozen in their tracks. The prince rose, and almost flinched as a crooked spear took the man beside him in the throat.

Within moments there was a fresh stain upon his blade, and a bronze ring chimed as it struck the gravel. "Stand your ground!" he ordered. "_Stand your ground_!"

000

Leon threw the torch in a high arc, watching it cascade through the air trailing a line of flame. Several moblins stopped to gawk as it passed over their heads, while the human soldiers dove to the ground for cover. They knew what was about to happen, even if the monsters didn't, and they wanted no part of it. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Leon glimpsed two other torches in the air as well. He smiled as he threw himself down, pressing gore-encrusted fingers to his eardrums.

The initial hiss of flame was mild compared to the rolling wave of heat which seemed to engulf the entire valley. The twenty or so moblins who'd been standing upon the pyre were scorched in an instant, filling the air with the dubious smell of roasting pork. The others were overcome by the sudden, terrible light and left ragged gaps in their own lines. "Ghash!" they cried, shoving their way from the flames and halting their comrade's advance.

Four fires had sprung into existence, one for each corner of Garret's bastion. The prince had planned carefully, working his men late into the evening to clear stones and dig trenches, and forbidding any fire around the grease-soaked piles of spare uniform and crushed wagons. Now, with flame, he had bought himself the time to organize his remaining men in the palisade between the fires, and fight a battle his army was trained to fight.

By the time the moblins began their charge anew, a different enemy awaited them. Shoulder to shoulder, in control and under command, the Terminian infantry took the charge upon spears and pikes and added a line of corpses to the earthworks. Another moblin rank rushed between flame and boulder, only to be skewered themselves. The third rank broke, and a flight of white-fletched arrows took them in the back as they turned to flee. Finally, the Terminian line had held.

Yet the night was still young and thousands of moblins still waited in the dark. There were many attacks yet to come, and many men still to die before the sun rose. And many soldiers had not made it the palisade before the moblin line encircled it.

000

The flames seemed welcoming to Omar as he watched them flicker from the valley rim, his back pressed flat against a boulder. He heard the distant shouts and screams dully, his attention focused on the guttural conversation occurring somewhere to his right. How far away? He couldn't tell. Could the moblins see him? He didn't know. Were they watching? Laughing at his blindness? Perhaps discussing what he would taste like?

Gritting his teach, Omar quietly drew his sword. Part of him, a large part, just wanted to rush yelling into the valley and fight until the monsters killed him_. This is madness,_ he thought bitterly, _this stumbling around in the dark. Of course they've seen me, they must have seen me. I've got to move now! _Yet the other part of the soldier's mind, the cold, logical part, knew that his best chance was to sit tight and keep his mouth shut. The moblins to his right could see the fires in the valley just as well as himself, and that was where there attention lay. If he could only keep quiet...

His boot slipped on a patch of lichen, sending him skittering down the side of the basalt. He groaned, as with a crash of skree, he tumbled onto his hands and felt half the skin scraped from his left palm.

The voices stopped.

_Bloody hell,_ Omar inwardly cursed, and then he was off and stumbling into the darkness. He could barely see where he was going, could barely see where he was stepping, but the sound of pursuing hooves kept him moving. Twice he nearly ran into boulders in the darkness, and once he fell flat when a sudden dip in the slope caught him unaware. If only he could reach the fire before the monsters caught him then he could have a fighting chance. If only he could _see _what was chasing him, and not be struck down in the dark like an animal. Omar exhaled with a hiss and lengthened his stride until he was sprinting full tilt into the valley.

And then he was skidding to a halt, watching three hulking shapes materialize from the darkness ahead of him. They shuffled forward, eyes glimmering, and harsh voices calling out into the night. Omar heard the sounds of pursuit behind him cease, and he whirled to see five more moblins pour through the narrow space between two boulders.

Eight against one. He was dead, Omar knew, finished. Now it was just a matter of deciding which way to face as he died. His skinned palm screamed in protest as he wrapped it around his sword hilt, turning his body so he could keep both groups of monsters in his peripheral. Suddenly he was aware of the chill breeze and the dull moon, the press of leather upon his skin and the cling of sweat beneath his clothes. A man called out somewhere in the night, and Omar felt his own lips curling up over his teeth. Eight against one. It just wasn't fair.

The closest one struck and he knocked its spear away with a clumsy twist of his weapon. It feinted again, cautiously waiting for its comrades to close, and Omar knew that the strike would have taken his leg off. He stepped into his own swing and hacked a notch of wood from the creature's spear, twisting to avoid a thrust from the side.

_You escaped once,_ he remembered dully, _ but you won't cheat destiny twice._

One of the moblins cried out, swinging his spear in a vicious arc through the black. The monster jerked and there was the sound of wetness splattering against stone, then it crumpled, wheezing, to the ground. Its comrade kicked it and muttered a command, then a question, before spitting on the body.

Seven against one.

A gust of wind skittered through the depression, a wind whispering things that made Omar's heart freeze. He cursed, but the noise was erased by a harsh, bleating moblin scream as one of the creatures stumbled backwards into the darkness. All, whether soldier or moblin, whirled to stare at the place the monster had occupied only moments before.

Six against one.

"Ghash!" one of the moblins cried, pointing to something above Omar's head. "Ghash!" The soldier looked up, felt a pebble bounce off his scalp, but saw nothing. _Fire,_ he thought, _ghash is fire, but the fire's over there..._He glanced towards the four pyres burning on the valley floor, then back to the fear-inflamed eyes of his attackers. Suddenly, he understood.

"Ghash!" he cried, charging at the nearest moblin. "The ghash is coming!" The creature didn't even try to parry his strike, it was too busy shouting at its remaining companions, warning them. It kept shouting right up to the moment Omar's sword found its throat, and it died without attempting to face its killer.

Five against one.

Yet even as Omar advanced three of the creatures turned to flee into the night. Abandoning their spears, they sprang away from the bodies of their companions with a desperate speed that betrayed their cowardice, almost tripping each other in their desire to escape. A smart move, Omar decided, if he was correct about the identity of his hidden accomplice.

In the end the three cowards survived ten heartbeats longer than their braver counterparts, ten heartbeats of terror before they too encountered the ghash in the darkness. The blade in the shadow. Ten heartbeats until their hearts were pumping blood onto the great expanse of the mountain, and the temporal darkness was surrendering to the eternal.

Omar sheathed his sword. "Thank you," he whispered after a while, although he wasn't sure if anyone was even listening. "This is the second time...in this valley. Thank you," he repeated.

There was a laugh, or maybe a snarl, and the soldier had no idea whether it was behind him or before him, to his left or to his right. "Walk forty paces in the direction you are facing," a voice hissed, "and you will find the remnants of a sentry squad. Stay with them and you may survive the night."

_I'm alive, _Omar reminded himself as he began to walk_. By the love of the Maiden I'm still alive! _The soldier looked down at his hands and realized they were shaking, and that his left palm was covered in dark, sticky blood. Only part of it was his own.

_If I survive this war, Mama,_ he thought, still shaking, _you and I are going to have ourselves a little talk._

000

The patch of moonlight was almost blinding within the dark interior of the tent. It slashed across the shadowy ground and up over the princess' outstretched legs like a tear in the night's fabric, a rent in the midnight velvet. Marring the perfect blackness, it forced the memory of light, and therefore fire; of life, and therefore war.

It forced Zelda to clutch her sword and pray, instead of close her eyes and forget.

"You're safe," the guards had whispered as they'd taken up a position around her tent, but the princess knew differently. _We're losing_, she thought, _there are too many of them, and it's dark, and Garret's probably got himself killed by now..._

The shouts seemed closer than they had, and she could hear the braying of an enraged moblin from somewhere indeterminable outside the tent. Other sounds invaded her refuge as well. Men commanded each other in the night, shouting orders and passing messages along the lines. There were horns sounding farther up the valley, and always in the background could be heard the crackling of flames.

_So my dreams drown in the blood of others_. Zelda winced as a soldier cried out in pain, screaming until he was abruptly silenced. _I began this. I led them here. And now I am too scared to leave my tent while they die._

Squeezing her eyes shut around teardrops, the princess let the point of her sword drop to the ground. She'd never been this scared before, even when the Darknuts had almost taken her in Kakoriko. Yet now she could barely move, could barely think, and she was crying of all things! Crying in the midst of a battle!

She should be outside, Zelda knew, yet Garret had commanded her to stay in her tent, like a precious, but useless, piece of baggage. She wanted to argue with him, just as she wanted to reach for the Triforce and scorch the besieging monsters, but her courage turned to ash in her mouth and magic once again escaped her._ I...I'm not a princess_, she admitted,_ I just want to crawl away and hide. I just..._

_ I just want to feel strong again._ Zelda hefted her sword and tried to focus bleary eyes on the blade. She didn't know if she could stand, not after so many screams, after hearing the thunder of the charges and feeling the vibration of a thousand hooves through the mountainside. Yet somehow she climbed gingerly to her feet, and placed her silver helmet back upon her head. It was the only act of defiance she dared, yet the helmet gleamed in the patch of moonlight, pushing the darkness back.

_You taught me how to use this,_ she thought, clutching her sword. _You taught me to fight, no matter what the cost. You taught me that sacrifices must be made, and that all nights must end eventually. You taught me to trust you, and to need you, and to believe you would return._

_Where are you, Demon? Why am I alone in the darkness?_


	72. Chapter 70

Hey all,

I'm on a bit of a roll right now, so you get two chapters in a row. This is a rather interesting one, so we'll see what you guys think of it.

I experimented with a number of devices in this chapter, trying different things in each of the three scenes. I'm most happy with the middle scene which lends itself well to my general style of tragic melodrama. :-) Reading through again today, I found the first scene to be rather bizarre, I like portions but as a whole it doesn't seem cohesive.

After this things settle back into a more traditional style for a few chapters, so enjoy my eccentricities while they last.

Chapter 70

Smoke hung low over the valley, dulling the world with its ghostly pall. There was no wind to blow it away and so it closed like a shroud over the remains of the night's battle, seeping into the cloth and leather of the corpses concealed in its embrace. A product of oil, grease and singed flesh, the unwholesome vapours darkened spirits and uniforms alike as they wrinkled nostrils and irritated lungs. Yet the Terminians bore it stoically, knowing that, for all its rankness, the stench of smoke was better than the reek of blood.

And blood there was in abundance.

The main killing ground around the palisade was drowning in it beneath the piles of moblin bodies that the soldiers were only beginning to clear. The skree had been conglomerated by the vast amounts of fluid dried within, and it crunched and cracked disgustingly under the men's feet as they moved. All the varieties of grey that had been seen the day before had turned to dull browns that stuck to the fingers of any who touched them. Not that many did…or at least they didn't twice.

Prince Garret stared at the residue upon his own fingers with all the hardness of a man who'd aged five years in one night. The circles under his eyes whispered of more than just fatigue, yet the conviction in his features never wavered as he turned to Russ.

"How many?" he asked, rubbing his hands together.

Russ' armor was covered in a multitude of scratches, the largest of which led to a spear-sized hole through his right pauldron. That arm he kept close to his side as he trailed his prince.

"Two thousand," he answered.

Looking up at the red sun, Garret accidently trod upon an outstretched moblin arm. Instead of stepping back, he turned and gave the corpse a powerful kick. The ringing contact of metal on metal struck a clear note in the polluted air and drew the eyes of many soldiers farther down the valley.

"It is less than we'd feared," Russ ventured.

"And more than we could ever afford," Garret sneered, his brow furrowed in what could have been either vexation or pain. Russ noted that his prince was now limping slightly, but decided he lacked the stupidity (Leon would have called it courage) to comment.

"The moblins suffered far greater casualties," he said instead, "their dead outnumber ours two to one."

"We could have destroyed them entirely, if only those milkmaids of yours could have held the line!" Garret hissed. "Three sentry rings and only three watches, and still they almost broke! I did everything short of making them sleep standing in formation!"

Russ was thankful that despite his passion, the prince had kept himself from raising his voice. Yet some of the paleness left the soldier's cheeks as his own anger kindled at the insult to his command. "That is a comment worthy of your father, my prince," he said quietly.

The sounds of mourning came drifting from the supply wagons, from where the merchants and servants had begun to sing the ancient death-chants of Termina. A single female voice, one of the cooks, swept above the sonorous depths of her male counterparts, pleading with all who heard to stop, and listen, and remember. The unshed tears in her voice made her song all the more poignant, and for a while Russ and Garret put aside their quarrel and harkened to her plea.

"Remember,

The strength and the steel,

Remember the banners we gathered to war.

Remember,

The lovers left hoping,

Remember the candles we burnt on the shore

Remember,

The laugh of the silent,

Remember the wives of those who were wed.

Remember,

The honour and glory,

Remember the story and songs of the dead.

Remember,

This field of the fallen,

Remember the darkness that came before dawn.

Remember,

The sword in the shadow,

Remember your brothers and remember their song."

"Sullen as my father," Garret murmured in the quiet after the voices faded. The tightness around his eyes increased as he glances to Russ. "You speak truly captain."

"The men look to you for advice, whether to celebrate victory or mourn defeat." Russ advised, glancing to his left. "The princess – she is approaching – looks to you as well. If you wish to retreat then retreat, but if you wish to advance then you must convince your men they are capable of winning this war."

The prince glanced at the captain, taken aback. "And I thought Leon was the blunt one!" he exclaimed. "We will win this war, Russ, if I have to slaughter a thousand moblins by myself. But enough with this quarrel, the lament is over!" Crossing his arms, he put on a crooked grin and turned to face the advancing Zelda.

She had shed her armor for a simple, dark blue riding dress, and wore her hair in single braid down the center of her back. Her sword bounced against her left thigh as she strode up the mountainside until, absently, she grasped the sheath in her hand and held it to the side. Leon bounced along beside her, climbing with all the grace of an eastern rock goat as he beamed through the smoke-filled air.

"A blessed morning to you, princess," Garret called out, making a gallant bow despite his macabre surroundings. "I trust you slept as poorly as I did?"

Zelda's features held no humour as she stopped before him, and behind her Leon's head gave a little warning jerk. Here, under closer observation, Russ could tell that his fellow captain's grin was slightly frozen, and the man kept glancing towards the princess with blank eyes.

"You aren't going to have them buried, are you?" Zelda's tone was hollow as she looked at the growing mound of corpses down in the valley.

Garret shifted uncomfortably in his stained armor. "We don't have the time if we wish to reach Kakoriko by nightfall, and I, for one, will not spend another night in these mountains. They would understand, princess."

But Zelda had not heard the end of his explanation. "Kakoriko," she exclaimed, "not Silva? I thought..."

"You thought what?" Garret asked, his eyes hardening. "That we would retreat? That I would turn tail and run and damn us all?"

"I..." Zelda began helplessly as she twisted her hands together. Her gaze dropped from the prince's eyes to the basalt below.

"I never retreat!" Garret spoke the words convincingly. "This army has won a great victory and there are more to come. But you had a question princess, else you would not have sought me out."

Neither the prince nor his two captains missed the twist in the princess' features, nor the way she steeled herself as she met Garret's eyes once more. "I wished to know if you had seen Lord Demon," she stated quietly, "I have not heard from him since before the battle began."

As quickly as it had come, the brooding was over and Garret smiled. "You worry for him. I am jealous, princess, I have left behind all the ladies who would worry for my safety," he glanced behind her, "excepting Leon, of course."

"I spoke to Omar earlier," Leon began, ignoring his prince, "you remember him, princess? He says you saved his life while crossing these same mountains."

Zelda nodded affirmation as the captain came to stand beside her. "I remember."

"He was outside the camp when the moblins attacked. He spun me a yarn about stumbling into a group of them on the upper slopes while we had our hands full between the fires. He says he killed one, and the other seven, well, died to something in the darkness. Kept yelling "ghash!" although he says he never saw any fire except ours."

"The flame in the shadow," Russ muttered.

"Exactly. Omar says he heard a voice too, which sounded a lot like...but then again, one of the scouts says that _he_ was fighting two moblins when the Lord Demon ran up and ripped both the bastard's hearts out with his hands." Leon stepped forward, holding his hands out like he had a beating heart in each. His fingers twitched as he imitated a pulse.

"Captain," Zelda admonished, but the momentum of his story couldn't be stopped.

"The scout says Demon looked at him ," Leon flourished his imaginary hearts, "and raised one of the bleeding chunks of meat to his mouth...and took a bite!" He mirrored his words and pretended to be chewing on something exceedingly tough. "That's when the scout ran away," Leon admitted between chews, "although when he glanced back he says Demon was feasting like he hadn't eaten since the Festival!"

Leon looked to Russ and then Garret, their faces unsure whether to scowl or laugh. "Bloody unnatural he says it was," Leon added solemnly, deciding the question for them.

Garret shook with suppressed laughter as he leaned on the hilt of his sword for support. His brown hair, thick with sweat and monster blood, cascaded in front of his face as he twitched. It was only once he recognized the warning on Zelda's features that he was able to control himself.

"The Lord Demon came to me before dawn to report that the moblins had retreated north," Garret admitted, "He appeared unharmed, and I sent him to scout the rest of the pass ahead of the vanguard. I thought he had already been to see you, princess, else I would not have ordered his departure so quickly."

"Thank you Garret," the princess said politely, "I am in your debt." Dropping a small curtsy to the prince, she turned and began picking her way back to the valley floor, back to the tent which was in the process of being dismantled by her assigned guard. The long braid down the center of her back jerked with each step, and the sword at her waist almost tripped her twice before she reached level ground.

Garret, Russ, and Leon all watched her leave in silence, a mutual aura of shame pervading their group. The prince used his fingers to attempt to comb his hair into a semblance of order, and winced as they ran into a tangled knot. "A good jest, a bad time," he muttered finally.

"But the song is sung," Leon protested, "It is the time for jests!"

Russ looked to his partner and raised an eyebrow. "That is the way of the army, but is it also the way of princesses?" he asked.

"Why else would I stand among the corpses of my friends, jesting of their battle?" Leon muttered. "She needs to laugh as much as any of us."

They stood silent for a while, watching the last portion of the camp be salvaged and packed away in the remaining wagons. Garret had taken great pains to station the picket lines and supply train within the center of his make-shift palisade, and so his command had suffered far less in food and mounts than it had in men. Yet the prince still clenched his teeth whenever he saw a column of wounded without horses, or the makeshift stretchers that marked new amputations.

"So Demon saved Omar's life," the prince commented.

"Second time in the same valley," said Leon.

"How many other stories are akin to his?"

"I've heard several. How many in all, my darling Russ?"

"At least a dozen."

Garret frowned as he picked flakes of mud from his greaves. "And yet Zelda never saw nor heard from him."

"So it seems," Russ agreed.

"So the man who could hardly be separated from her in Termina, who worried continuously for her safety within the very walls of the Hidden Palace, abandoned her _during the biggest battle of the decade _to save a dozen of my scouts?"

"Perhaps she's found someone else?" Leon ventured.

"Does she look as if she's found someone else?" Russ retorted.

Garret eyed him askance. "Well it's not me," he began, "and by the blood of the Maiden it better not be _you_." He pointed at Leon who shook his head vigorously. "So who else is there?"

"About five thousand other opportunistic bastards," Russ scowled.

"So no one," Garret decided.

"No one," Leon echoed.

Russ opened his mouth, then closed it with jaw muscles working. He turned sharply and began forging his own path downward.

"I'll talk to him when he returns," Garret said.

Leon's eyes followed Russ. "Who?"

"The Lord Demon."

"Why?"

"To tell him to stop saving the lives of my men and get back to protecting beautiful women."

"True wisdom, my prince."

"Of course."

"My prince?"

"Yes?"

"I hate joking at a time like this."

"So do I, yet we can't stop yet. Are you hungry, Leon?"

"No."

"How do you think moblin hearts taste?"

"Like human ones I expect."

"That's disgusting, captain."

"My apologies."

"The column is forming, yet...Leon?

"Yes?"

"Why did you tell that story? You knew..."

"Because it upsets me as well.

"Why."

"You'll wish you hadn't asked."

"Perhaps. Why?"

"Because the scout and I...we found the bodies."

000

Before the great whiteness, Caius had treasured three memories of his mother. Three. He remembered going through them in his mind on the days when the merchants had been too bad-tempered to throw him bread, on the days Caine returned with a beating instead of rupees. He remembered numbering them in his head, and feeling the ache in his shrunken stomach recede as he plunged into the only comfort he possessed: the comfort of memory.

Yet the eternal winds and endless snow had blasted two of the three from his mind, shorn them from his heart as completely as his left arm and four of his toes had been cut from his body. Frostbite, the leech had said, and explained how flesh could freeze and die, only to rot when it thawed. That didn't explain the memories, he'd replied, but then she was cutting, _cutting,_ and the world went dark. When he'd awoken, Caius had counted one arm, six toes, and one memory still his.

At least he had one, Caius had decided. He'd seen the bodies in the snow, rigid, grey statues nestled in the winter drifts. They had no memories left, none at all, while he, Caius, still had one. Even without his arm, he could still remember the hug he'd given his mother, and the thought comforted him. Even on that day, when the loss of the other two was still fresh.

That was also the day they'd taken Caine.

The woman had explained that Caius needed to walk, yet how was expected to with his feet bound up in the stained bandages and his head swimming from the pain? In the end she'd carried him up the long stairway to the palace gates, to the stake where Caine had been tied. He'd tried to steal from the army stores the soldier had said, and when Caius had begged him for a knife to cut the rope he'd only laughed. By tomorrow he'll be frozen solid, the soldier said, then you can cut him down. So Caius had gone to his brother, the bandages on his feet blooming pink as he stumbled on his mutilated stumps, and tried to untie him.

He'd reached out his hand to comfort his brother, to explain to him, through touch, that Caius would free him. He reached, and yet the hand couldn't reach Caine, indeed it passed right through and the soldier had laughed and laughed, and Caius had realized what it mean to be a cripple.

He'd realized what it meant to be alone, what it meant to be abandoned, what it meant to be _incomplete. _For the winter had taken four toes, one arm, two memories, and one brother.

The sun gleamed eagerly from its position just over the horizon, heralding the approach of another perfect summer day. The grass of Hyrule field swayed in the light breeze with the same hypnotizing motion as the Sea of Storms. No trace of winter could be seen, no last remnant of snow or ice remained, yet the cold lingered on. It skulked unseen, dragging itself along the dirt path in the heart of one small boy for whom winter had never truly ended. One small boy, to whom only one breath of summer remained...

_ "Caius," she whispered, "The Gods are cruel,"_

_ She was sitting on the packed dirt, her scarred, blistered fingers spread upon his skinny arms. There were tears in her amber eyes as she spoke to him, and they glistened as they slid down her narrow face._

_ "Goodbye, my love," she'd said, "Grow strong, grow brave, and when you are grown, go south. South to the shifting sands of my people, south to the land where winter never comes. Go south, my love."_

_ She stood then, hugging his shoulders with the comfort that only a mother can give. In the doorway, she'd paused and stared at him, her shadow hanging across the room. "Go south," she'd said again, "Remember, my love."_

South. The word echoed in his mind, conjuring that last, forlorn image of his mother. She'd gone to the arenas to repay a debt, the neighbours had said. Then, at the end of summer, they'd told him she was dead. Caius remembered the name they'd whispered between themselves as he'd cried. The Butcher, it was always the Butcher...

Caius was going south.

The pack hung low on his skinny back, fitted for someone twice his width and half again his height. It chafed the skin above his waist as it swung with each one of his jerking steps, yet the boy never stopped to adjust it. He knew it would only bring a new patch of skin into contact with the rough canvas, cut into a different piece of his arm as he leaned upon the rough-hewn oaken crutch. He would not delay, he was going south.

The sweat trickled down his neck, gathering in the small of his back and staining his ragged tunic. Thirst dried his in throat and throbbed in time with his scarred feet, a pulsating bundle of sensations that Caius pushed from his mind. _I am not grown, mother. I am sorry, I could not wait. But I do remember..._

Caine. He took a step, and the pain shot up his calf. He remembered Caine, the half-brother who had treated him as blood. The dark eyes and the hoarse shout, the quick hands too fast for the merchants and the long, awkward legs. Caius had never been as fast as Caine, even before the winter, now they would never race again.

Mother. With her crimson hair and strange eyes, he'd always been able to spot her on the busy Castletown streets. When she spoke the words rolled off her tongue in a strange rhythm that Caius had tried to copy, never succeeding. He was proud that his skin was as dark as hers, that his head was crowned with the same embers. They'd whispered "Gerudo" when he walked in the streets, a Gerudo from the south.

Now they whispered other things, and they stared at his missing arm, not his head.

Caius stumbled and felt the crutch bite into his arm as he leaned upon it. He turned his head to stare at the distance city, shrunk to insignificance and nestled beneath the horizon._ How far is south? How far, mother? _

_Too far_, the others whispered,_ too far. _Too far for one small crippled boy, the last of his line. Yet he limped onward, one step after another towards the sands his mother had promised him and the future she'd described. He limped onward, unshakeable.

That is until he saw the fairy.

She appeared suddenly above the whispering grasses as a shadow too big to be an insect, too small to be a bird. Whatever glow her presence held was dulled to nothing by the blinding sun, and yet Caius was sure he beheld a fairy. He watched the tiny, dainty features and waited for them to shift in revulsion, for the supernatural creature to realize its mistake and flee. No one in Castletown had ever seen a fairy, so why should one appear to him, Caius the orphan? Such things only happened in children's stories and silly myths...and yet the fairy paused before him.

"I have a question to ask, child." Its voice was loud and strong, warm as summer loam yet strange as a wild glade. _The voice of a grown woman_, Caius thought,_ or a mother._ The suggestion froze him as he stared.

The fairy sighed. "You are innocent of the sins of your fathers, I will not harm you." She wavered in the air, studying him. Her gaze flashed to his empty sleeve, his bound feet, then back to his eyes. "Though it seems you have already paid much."

"I can walk," Caius told her, "I can even run if I have to." He bent his knees slightly and steeled himself against the pain in his remaining toes.

"Where are you going, child?" the fairy asked.

"South," he answered, "South to where the ground is covered with sand, and everyone looks like me." His fingers tangled in his crimson hair, drawing the fairy's eyes.

"A Gerudo," she muttered, spinning in the air so her back was to him. "Your people don't take kindly to cripples."

Caius pushed himself to his full height. "'South my mother said, before she left."

"And were you a cripple then?" the fairy asked. "Your wounds are fresh, some still bleed..."

_Don't take kindly to cripples_. The words echoed in Caius' heart, dissolving his conviction. Would his people abandon him? Did the fairy speak truth? Yet Castletown was no better.

"I can go nowhere else," he whispered. "Mother is dead, so is Caine, and the Black King whispers from the Temple."

"Let him whisper." The fairy's eyes narrowed and she grabbed handfuls of her dress. "He is powerless behind the seal. But I have a question, child. I wish to know of the Princess Zelda, of her return."

Caius' brow furrowed. "She was dead, yet they say she comes from Termina to rescue us. They say King Gabriel tried to murder her, yet she fled."

The fairy floated closer. "And does _he_ follow her?"

"Gabriel?" Caius ventured.

"No!" the fairy hissed. "The other. The Demon. The one who walks in shadow."

"They say he stalks her, or he loves her, or she saved his life. Many things are said-"

"But he is coming," the fairy interrupted.

Caius looked into the fairy's eyes, and saw something he did not recognize. It looked like autumn, like leaves curling and drying and falling from great limbs, like loss.

"Yes, he is coming," he said.

"So she succeeded," the fairy muttered. "I am grateful, child, for your help. What is your name?

"Caius," he said. "Do fairies have names?" he added, with a hint of his old curiousity.

"My name is Navi," the fairy replied.

"And why do fairies hide in the forest?"

Her smile was ice. "Because they cannot forgive," she replied. "I am troubled Caius. I have a gift for you if you wish to accept my offer. It would be punishment for another but I think that for you...it would be a blessing."

Caius stared, felt the hope building in his heart. _The gift of a fairy_. He'd read tales like this before, in which terrible wounds were healed and cripples made whole. "A gift," he repeated breathlessly.

Navi drifted closer, her tiny arm extended in answer. "Hold out your hand, Caius, and forget this sorrow."

_Forget_, Caius thought, _forget everything?_ Would he forget Caine? Would he forget mother? He opened his mouth, to protest, to refuse, yet the fairy's hand touched him and it was too late. The strands of magic unfurled in whispering, branching patterns and Caius gaped as his left arm grew from his sleeve and stretched to elbow, then wrist, than spindly, twiggy fingers. Yet it was not the sun-scorched umber of before, but a dappling of earthen hues and wooden browns which spread outwards to his other arm and his waist and then his neck...

Until nothing remained of Caius the cripple save a discarded crutch on a dusty path.

There was no smile on Navi's face as she studied the perfect, unblemished stal-child before her, no satisfaction in her heart. Her gaze dropped to his ten bare toes, glanced to the fluttering fingers of his left hand, and then fixed on the smile which split his features below his orange, autumn eyes. He would never scowl again, would never feel pain, or hurt, or loss. Instead, the eternal rhythms of the woods would embrace him and he would dance forever in the glades of the Great Forest. As happy, more or less, as any creature could be.

"The sins of your fathers run deep in your veins," Navi spoke to the smile, unwilling to meet the eyes, "but this is not punishment. The Gerudo murder cripples as babes, or leave them upon the sands for the jackals. I have given you _mercy_, child, play that will never end and arms that will never tire."

The stalchild cocked its head to the side. unearthly grin never wavering. Abruptly, it danced away, weaving a drunken path toward the dark smudge on the horizon that was the Great Forest. East, for south had been forgotten.

The sun gleamed eagerly from its position just over the horizon, heralding the approach of another perfect summer day. The grass of Hyrule field swayed in the light breeze with the same hypnotizing motion as the Sea of Storms. No trace of winter could be seen, no last remnant of snow or ice remained, yet the cold lingered on. It lingered in the heart of one small fairy, staring off at a smoking mountain. It lingered in the memory of an act of mercy, inflicted upon an innocent heart.

000

"NO!"

The princess' voice soared above the mouth of the mountain pass, ringing against the stony crags and halting columns of soldiers in their tracks. Her grief was so sudden, so alien, that men shook themselves and imagined the sound to be the product of their own minds, until they looked to their companions and found them staring back.

"No!" Zelda wept as she dismounted from her horse and half-ran, half-stumbled the last fifty yards to the scorched ruin of Kakoriko's gate. The ash flowered under her feet and formed a staggered line of grey blossoms behind her diminishing form. A line of rain-drops, or tears, across the valley that had once been a town.

Garret rode his own horse to the gate before dismounting, covering his mouth against the ash raised by his passage. His was not a flight of grief, but instead a measured pursuit, his target the white figure before him. Even in armor he was at her side in moments, sharing in the surrounding desolation.

"No," Zelda was whispering, "no, no, no, no..." The word was a mantra on her tongue, her own pitiful ward against the horror in her eyes. Ash and sun, bone and sky, the village had been reduced to simple elements strewn upon the stone knees of the mountain. Garrett's features tightened as he looked from her wide eyes to the charred corpse of Kakoriko. A moblin he could kill, an army he could crush, but this...

"Why?" Zelda pled, falling to her knees. The ash swirled around her and left strange patterns upon her dress, staining her. "Nayru, Din, Farore, why?"

"Princess," Garret soothed as he stooped to grasp her elbow, "we will find the Aratians and we will destroy them. We will crush them to the earth, crush them so that their name will become a curse for generations. We will-"

"What, Garret?" Zelda was suddenly facing him as she rose from the ground. "Bring back my friends? My enemies? The man who juggled upon a stage there," she pointed farther into the village, "to celebrate winter's end? What can you do against such..."

The prince saw her fists clench, the muscles in her slender neck brace the baffled rage in her eyes.

"Against such madness?" she finished, and the words were a pained hiss between her lips. "They were_ my people_, Garret. Now what are they?"

She stepped back, and Garret sensed the inevitable. He stiffened against the blow.

"I failed them!" Zelda shouted as she pounded a fist into the prince's breastplate. "Princess of Destiny? I brought death to these people!"

Her blows left prints on Garret's armor that overlapped each other as they compounded. The prince stared at the part in her hair, all he could see of her, and tried to force words past the knot in his throat. With another woman it would have been easy, but Zelda was like a sister, they had played together as children. He could not ease her pain, could not help her, but only watch as she grieved for those who now existed only within memory.

"Princess," Garret repeated, "please," He was saved by the appearance of Russ and Leon at his side, their questioning glances restoring both his authority and his responsibility.

"Take her, Russ," he said, catching hold of the princess' wrists. "Get her tent set up on the far side of the valley, away from this ruin. Get her out of the sight of the men as well, they need not see this."

The fight left Zelda and she leaned limply against Garret's chest as Russ advanced towards her. "We cannot erase this suffering," the prince muttered into her hair, "only avenge it. I am sorry, princess."

"Kakoriko did not deserve this." She stared blankly into the village ruin through hollow eyes. "Where is your mercy, Farore? Where is the love of Nayru? I think...I think I'm going to be sick."

Garret watched her stumble away, leaning heavily on Russ' arm, and let the cold certainty tighten in his chest. He had not perceived this frailty back in Clocktown, but as Zelda's strength faltered his conviction grew. _I will kill that Aratian bastard_, Garret swore to himself_, for this I will kill him and his entire Goddess-cursed army. And Demon will come in the night for the ones I missed._

He turned to Leon, and his eyes must have been terrible to behold, for the captain actually flinched. "Walk with me, captain," he began, "We have a war to plan."

The army funneled rank by rank through the village gates, breaking into companies as soon as the widening valley permitted. Golden afternoon sun stretched their shadows across the scorched earth and rippled lines of heat upon armor and helms. The marching songs and banter had died with Zelda's scream, yet the hush fell still deeper as each new set of eyes witnessed the devastation that had been Kakoriko. Few knew the name of the village, and fewer still had ever set foot in it, but they respected its memory just the same.

"We will have a council tonight," Garret decided, following Leon through a ragged doorframe bereft of any actual dwelling. "The generals...you, Russ, and I…Demon and the princess. Once the scouts return we can decide tomorrow's advance."

"Should the men begin digging trenches?" Leon asked. There was no hint of his usual humour, only the diffidence of the professional soldier.

"The moblins have broken and run back to their master, and both approaches to this valley are easily defended. Double the men's rations, let them light as many fires as they want, and forget the digging." Garret paused to survey the ragged columns of his command, noting the soiled armor and stained bandages. "If the Goddesses are indeed with us than a trench or two won't make a difference," he finished.

Leon declined to respond, instead watching the first dozen horses reach the edge of the ash and shy away, nostrils flaring. It was several moments before one of them was persuaded to cross into the village proper, and several more before any of the others followed.

"I heard of an Aratian duke who once burned an entire village," Garret mused. "The soldier who told me the story said he was mad, that the voices he heard in his head told him to give the order. Of course, he commanded men, not moblins."

"I worry for Castletown," Leon said.

Garret winced. "As do I. Zelda also spoke of madness, and I fear there is a prophecy in her words. What is evil but the fruit of madness, and what is this but the fruit of evil? How much of Hyrule," he paused and a deep breath rattled its way through his frame, "will survive this war?"

Leon failed to answer, indeed Garret hadn't expected him to. Eventually the prince turned, blinking against the sun and the dust and the heat. "Get the camp in order, captain. I...I need to think."

Garret hardly knew where his feet were taking him as he left his friend behind among the ashes, but it also hardly mattered. He needed to be in motion, to be acting, or else the pain of his own helplessness would overtake him. It burned like an itch between his shoulder-blades and his hands twitched with the urge to scratch, to hurt, to maim. _What can you do against such madness? _Zelda had asked him._ What can you do?_

_ Nothing, _he thought, _nothing but stop it from striking again._

The sun was setting into the west and a breeze was blowing from the east when Garret finally stopped moving. His brow furrowed as he studied the painted flagpoles which jutted from the earth outside Zelda's tent. One flew the intricate pattern of Hyrule, the other a simple blue rectangle centered with a golden Triforce. Both moved lazily in the breeze.

_Which are we following_? The question made Garret uneasy, adding to his inner turmoil. Would Zelda have reacted as strongly if a Terminian town had been razed? It was an unfair question, the prince knew, but when he looked at the flags he could not help but ask it. Was the princess leading them into battle to save the world? Or to save Hyrule?

The prince jerked as a sound, like rattling bones, issued from the tent before him. He heard Leon exclaim something, then laugh hoarsely at Zelda's reply. Words were impossible to discern, and yet the prince deemed it was safe to enter. Garret gave the flags one last searching glance, then stepped into the tent.

Zelda sat cross-legged upon the carpet, wrapped in a rough-spun soldier's blanket and concentrating on a scattering of dice before her. Her own embroidered comforters lay abandoned in the corner, yet the princess apparently did not mind the coarse wool against her skin. She hugged it closer as her gaze flicked up to meet Garret's.

"Dicing," he remarked, "a noble pastime." Suddenly, he saw the sword lying at her side and his eyebrows shot up. "Did you stake your weapon, princess? Even Leon has a winning roll occasionally."

"No," Zelda said without a smile, and Garret was reminded of the last time she'd spoken that word. It was calmer now then it had been, but suddenly empty, a meaningless syllable from a distant soul. "Leon is teaching me how to cheat."

"You cheat, captain?" Garret asked, honestly surprised. "Do you cheat to lose?"

Leon gathered the dice wordlessly, leaving Zelda to respond. "He's better than you might think," she muttered. "He's called Fate's Ladder eight times in a row, and won every roll."

Garret's eyes widened. "Captain! I-"

"A trick the Lord..." Leon paused and his eyes darted to Zelda, "a friend taught me." He grabbed both dice cups and the wooden dicing board and stood up stiffly. "I beg your leave princess, I have my command to see to before the light fails."

Zelda nodded, still unsmiling. "Goodbye."

Leon glanced to Garret, made a motion that was part salute, part warning, and disappeared through the tent flap. The sound of his boots filled the silence for a few moments until distance muffled them into oblivion.

Baffled and uncomfortable, Garret shifted awkwardly where he stood. The leather of his gloves creaked as he flexed his fingers around an imaginary hilt.

"Has that sword been blooded?" he asked finally.

"No," Zelda said. Her eyes stared at where the dicing board had been, forcing the prince to study her profile. "But it will be, before the end."

"Ah," the prince said. He shifted again and ran his tongue along his lips. "We have a custom in Termina to anoint swords before they are wielded in battle. Perhaps-"

"I will not glorify death," the princess cut him off without lifting her eyes. "I will not justify taking lives, even monster lives, but I promise you," and suddenly she was looking at Garret with a fury he hadn't known she possessed, "I will make them suffer for this! I will bleed them as they have bled me! I will fight!"

The prince admitted that it was irrational, that the small, hunched figure before him was as likely to see action as the Aratians were to surrender, yet a chill ran through him anyway. This was not the same woman who had walked out of the gates of Clocktown only days before.

Something more had been burned in Kakoriko than a simple village, and something else had been tempered in the same fires.

"I have a question, princess," he muttered.

"Ask anything," she replied, "I may even answer."

Swallowing his original words, the prince thought about changing his question right there. There were things he wished to ask, especially about the assassin, that had long burned holes in his mind, yet his better sense prevailed.

"If we win this war," he began, "is evil defeated? Is a simple battle enough to fulfill prophecy?"

"I was wondering when you'd think to ask that, Garret," Zelda said, and there was the smallest hint of mockery in her tone. "The truth is...I don't know." She raised her head to appreciate the shock in the prince's eyes. "It depends on the Aratian king and whether he has fully released the Dark One from his prison."

"And if he has?" Garret asked.

Zelda shrugged. "Then the Lord Demon and I will have to destroy that evil, or it will destroy us."

"You, princess?" Garret hinted, and his eyes slid to her sword.

"Not with _that,_" she answered following his eyes. "Evil cannot be defeated with common steel." She paused, even as Garret waited for her to explain, and there was a pale bitterness in her eyes. "You will just have to trust me, prince, it is not a battle you can fight."

There was a wan smile on her lips, yet is slipped as her eyes slid past the prince to the entrance behind him and the colour drained from her face. Garret whirled to face the invader, only to behold Demon leaning stiffly between the tent flaps. His blonde hair was greyed with ash, bleeding the colour from his skin as well.

"She is right," the assassin rasped. "The Aratian king is waiting for something, or missing something more likely. In the Great Forest we saw evidence that he has damaged the seal, but it is not yet destroyed. The Dark King will need to be released and rechained before the Cycle will turn, and for that we need a _real _sword."

"Demon!" Zelda breathed. She made as if to rise, then sat back down rigidly. "Did you see what they did? To Kakoriko? Tell me, did the villagers escape?"

The assassin's face hardened. "The moblins came in the night, princess, and there are only two paths out of this valley. Yet I believe a few escaped."

"How," Garret asked, "how do you know?"

"Because your scouts found one survivor hiding in a cave," Demon said. "He's being questioned as we speak. The generals are also waiting to start your council, if you and the princess are ready." With that, the assassin disappeared from the tent as silently as he'd come, leaving two pairs of curious eyes in his wake.

Garret could not help but watch Zelda's face as she rose to follow the assassin. Emotions swirled across her features in mesmerizing patterns, before disappearing behind that cultivated royal mask that the prince had always envied. By the time she swept past him, leaving her crumpled, discarded, blanket in her wake, she was utterly dissimilar to the woman who had existed only moments before.

Yet there was something jarring about her strength, a brittleness that Garret couldn't remember ever seeing in Clocktown. She was a willow branch in the first frost of the year, still beautiful but choked by ice. Garret felt like reaching out to her, supporting her as they journeyed down through the valley, yet he feared his hands were too rough for such subtlety

He did not want to be the one who made her snap.

000

Author's Note:

My favourite line from this chapter (and one that I had to cut) was the following: "**She stepped back, and Garret had one of his few correct anticipations of the female mind."**

****Obviously it doesn't fit, but I thought I'd share it with you anyway.

In the first scene I was trying to work in a Terminian tradition that in the aftermath of a battle, after the proper mourning rituals are finished, the survivors are expected to tell jokes for a certain amount of time in defiance of their sorrow. I didn't want to explain it outright, and yet without the explanation the result is a bizarre hodgepodge of tone and style. I'm leaving it in as a warning to all of you other aspiring writers about what happens if you're not careful to keep your tone consistent. Learn from my mistakes.

The second section accomplishes some things that are necessary in any proper yarn involving time travel, as well as letting us see the dark side of Hyrule's fairy population. There are a couple interesting plot tie ins that hopefully some of you who know the canon will catch, as well as some references (once again) to that all-important prologue.

The third section...well, I'm trying to figure out how Zelda handles extreme stress and guilt while still keeping true to her character. In the past she's often become a simple worrywart, and I don't think that's totally her. I'm pretty sure I didn't nail it in this chapter, but I'm getting closer to the reality.

-Celeborn00


	73. Chapter 71

Time to start writing again. I had a couple of friends attempt NaNoWriMo over November and I was tempted to try to finish Forgotten Demons over the month, but I'm too much of a perfectionist to be happy with a marathon session like that.

Anyway, here's a lot of talking, and what one of my less impressive professors would have called "salient rhetorical strategy."

Chapter 71

A hand held the tent flap open as Zelda entered, but the sudden shadow played havoc with her eyes as she tried to discern its owner. She squinted for a moment, then gave a polite nod in its general direction and advanced farther inside to allow Garret and Demon entrance. A slanted column of gloom cascaded through a circular hole at the top of the structure, providing the only illumination into the lair of Termina's warrior prince.

The tent was furnished to resemble, in Zelda's humble opinion, the home of some desert tyrant. The pile of hides in the corner was obviously where Garret slept, and the small washbasin held a razor, a bar of soap, and several small bottles, yet there the trappings of civilization ended. Two opposing rows of wolfos skins entrapped the column of twilight in the center of the tent, supporting silk pillows of black and silver. The column itself framed a gilded Terminian shield crowned with a sprig of moonroot, which reflected the meager light down upon a faded map inscribed in dark leather. To the left a low table held jugs of mead, to fill the drinking horns which lay upon the wolf-skins.

As the prince entered, the five figures already in attendance saluted. Their buttons and buckles gleamed with recent attention, and suddenly Zelda felt vastly underdressed. She had not changed since the morning, and her clothes were marred with travel and ash. Only Demon looked shabbier, and then only because he didn't seem to have changed since before the last battle. _Such an impressive pair we make, _Zelda thought_,_ and regretted the connection immediately as a hot flash of pain swept through her.

"There, princess," Garret muttered from behind, and Zelda followed his gesture to the second of the closest row of hides. She fled towards it without acknowledging the hushed words of greeting from the other attendants, and sat down so quickly that the drinking horn collided painfully with her leg. Only then did she remember that everyone else still stood, yet it was too late to do anything but remain where she was.

As Garret pointed Demon to a spot at her side, and then spoke in hushed tones to another man, Zelda studied the soldiers across from her. Russ she immediately recognized, his dress uniform and trimmed beard reminding her of their first meeting in Termina. The other four she vaguely remembered as Garret's generals, although the shadow made her uncertain. The faces were more hollow then she remembered, and even the immaculate uniforms couldn't conceal the tension beneath.

Then Garret was standing on the hide to her right, and a servant was lighting lamps behind them, and all the soldiers sat as one.

There had been no signal, not as far as Zelda could tell, and now it was Demon who did not fit. He sat with his characteristic grace a moment later, but that moment condemned him as effectively as any accusation. It was a moment too slow, and Zelda knew that Demon was aware of it as well. They sat in the ensuing hush, waiting for Garret to begin the council, and for another moment their eyes locked, only to tear apart as quickly as they'd met.

"Shadows and dust," Garret said abruptly, and shifted so he sat cross-legged upon the grey fur beneath him. "That is what we are. We come from the shadow and we return to the dust, and there is precious little of worth in the middle. Most men are forgotten the moment their last breath leaves their body, and the memory of the few endures only a generation."

Pausing, the prince thrust his drinking horn to the servant. He did not speak as the man walked to the table and filled the vessel with ale, did not speak again until the horn was cooling his hand and raining beads of amber into the pelt below.

"Yet we, we have been given a gift from the Goddesses," Garret continued, "a chance to bind ourselves to the divine legend! We have been given the chance to be remembered when weaker men are forgotten, to be praised when even the place of our tombs is beyond memory! It is our lot to fight the battle of the gods and influence the will of the immortals!"

Garret drank deep from his horn, his eyes shining like twin stars in the half-light. "We have been given the chance for true glory!"

He seemed to calm himself then, letting the excitement of his words hang in the air. He shifted slightly and glanced to the door of the tent as he placed the now-empty horn at his side. One of the generals coughed, and the harsh noise broke the momentum, awakening the other listeners as if from a dream.

"We have been given the chance to avenge the innocents who died in this town, and the men who fell last night protecting their comrades. Their memory is both our duty and responsibility." Garret glanced back to the door. "Joshua has returned from Hyrule Field to tell us that the Aratians are mobilizing. Indeed they marched this morning from Castletown." He paused and measured his audience. "Captain, give your report."

Zelda had seen the man before, the day Garret had saved her and the merchants, and forced her to shed her disguise as Lady Arianna. He seemed sharper now then he had then, his face a mess of angles that shadow couldn't soften.

"They march as if the Dark One himself is their rearguard," Joshua said. His voice was high and mellow, an ill-fit for his features. "A core of two thousand Aratian soldiers leading eight or ten thousand moblins. The king is with them, as well as...other beasts. The Aratians march well clear of their-"

"Goddesses!"

The curse came unlooked-for, a hiss upon the lips of the general closest to the door. Shock was obvious upon his face as his eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Ten thousands!" he exclaimed, "Yet we bled them white last night! How have they mustered such a force?"

Joshua licked his lips nervously. "I know not what dark holes they crawled from, but there were two hundred to a company and I counted more than two score companies."

"Peace, Zephros," the man to his right muttered, yet the general was not finished.

"We piled bodies six deep in that valley! Moblins never regroup this quickly!"

Garret graced him with a cold smile. "Were you not listening to me, general? We are meddling in the realm of gods and legends, 'never' is a word I would loath to use lightly." He leaned back and passed his drinking horn to the servant. In the ensuing pause Zelda pulled her skirt tighter around herself, watching one of the generals cough into his hand.

"In the next few days," the prince announced once he had drunk his fill, "the battlefield will make corpses of us all, or it will crown us heroes. It only remains now to choose the battlefield we wish to fight and die upon. Generals I would have your council."

The four men looked at each other, and one made a move as if to speak. Yet Zephros was faster and louder, and only barely courteous. "We must stay here and prepare what defenses we can! Here we can use the moblin's own tactics against them, harass their flanks and prevent their superior force from surrounding our own. Here, in the ruins of this town, we have the advantage! If we advance out upon the field, then I fear even victory will not save more than the tatters of this army!"

Garret stared at him, and the darkness in his eyes was that of disappointment. "The words of a coward," he said bluntly, "we have not the supplies to be besieged, and the moblins have riddled these mountains with warrens. There is no retreat from this place."

Zephros stiffened. In one swift movement he grabbed his drinking horn and threw it viciously from the tent. It rang once as it bounced across the ruins of Kakoriko.

Slowly, he turned back to the assembled council, the muscles in his jaw rippling with a dark fluidity. Words, when they finally came, departed his mouth in a slow, grudging, drip. "I have shamed myself...my prince."

The other three generals hesitated as some unspoken agreement was reached between them. The one next to Zephros was the first to speak, although his eyes wandered to his two companions as often as they did to Garret. "It is perhaps not a matter of cowardice, my prince," he began slowly, "but one of prudence. A victory in which we preserve five thousands of our men is surely more glorious than one in which only two thousands remain. Would it not be wise to remain in an advantageous position and let the Aratians break their strength upon us, let the momentum switch to our favour?"

"Have you not been listening?" Garret asked. "You talk as if you are putting down another rebellion." He gestured to a row of banners hung behind him, a series of strange symbols that Zelda did not recognize. "Prudence has no place in a war such as this. Indeed, prudence may destroy us. If I have understood the princess correctly," here he looked to Zelda, assuming her support, "we face an enemy who comprehends only absolutes. He will not practice prudence and thus neither should we, lest we be swept away!"

Garret studied the men before him, clenching his forgotten drinking horn between caging fingers. One by one each of them dropped their eyes to the wolf pelt between their feet.

"War is a gamble," the prince continued finally, "each of you know this. It should be simple, a question of numbers and armaments and maneuvers, and yet I know each of you would disagree. There is a friction in the machine of war which we call chance, or passion, perhaps even fate, and it is that friction which makes war not an art or a science, but instead a dicing game in the tavern of the gods.'

Yet I tell you, the dice are loaded in our favour, even the gods cheer for our victory! The Aratians may have numbers, but we surpass them in weaponry, in strategy, in unity, and ultimately in glory. Our fate has been laid out before us onto the plains of Hyrule, and it is there that the end of this age shall be decided!"

"My prince-" Zephros began, yet Garret was faster.

"Do you honestly believe," he charged, "that this valley would be a more 'prudent' battleground? Moblins burrow like vermin and climb like skulltula, they would turn the very walls of our fortress against us. We would fight bravely, kill many, and then die as trapped animals. The gods did not call us from Termina only to hide in the mountains."

Zephros shifted. "I listen, my prince, yet my dice do not forebode victory. If the gods have such power why do they not fight their own battles instead of sacrificing the men of Termina? Is our only choice to hide here or risk all on open battle? To roll seven sunbursts or lose everything? What does the princess say, since she is the god's emissary?"

It was as if the twilight, steadily fading as the day waned, grew suddenly bright, as the men in the room looked expectantly to Zelda. The attention brought faint colour to her cheeks, even as her mind wracked itself frantically for something intelligent to say. Did they want her to take the responsibility of such a decision? To, as it sounded like, condemn them to death on the plains, or death in the mountains?

She was rescued by the whisper of the tent flap as a soldier pushed forward out the gloom. Behind him followed another figure who, even in the half-light, managed to give the impression of skulking. He moved with a mysteriously awkward gate that made Zelda wonder if he was a cripple, at least until she caught sight of the length of rope connecting his ankles. The way he hung his head made her suspect the man was a deserter, or worse, perhaps an Aratian spy captured by the outer sentries.

"My prince," the soldier began as he gave a rigid bow, "here is the survivor. Leon assumed you and the generals would wish to question him yourself."

Garret snorted. "If he's the survivor, then why is he bound?"

The man in question gave an indignant shake, obviously agreeing with the prince's line of thinking, yet his escort ignored it.

"I apologize, but his story had more holes than a Gerudo drunk has tics. Leon wasn't sure if he'd survived the attack or been freed, if you follow."

"Ah," The prince paused, giving the occupants of the tent a moment to study their prisoner. Grey with ash and squalor, he stood motionless among them with the top of his narrow skull aimed directly at Garret. Such action from another man might have been defiant, but here it seemed vaguely pathetic, like a cuccoo which closes its eyes at the approach of a predator. It gave the prince a perfect opportunity to study the man's encroaching baldness, something Garret did not seem to appreciate.

"So what is his story?" the prince asked the soldier, even as the prisoner himself raised his head to answer. It was the first true glimpse of his features he had given, and Zelda gasped while Demon emitted a reptilian hiss.

"I know this man!" the princess announced before either could speak. "His name is Gaiden and he was a merchant in Kakoriko!"

"So that is truth at least," the soldier remarked, eyeing Zelda with no small surprise. "Strange company you keep."

"Not the strangest," Garret muttered, even as three of the four generals glanced to Demon, "continue soldier."

The man bowed again. "He claims that three days ago the Aratians came in the night and formed a cordon around the village. They prevented any of the villagers escaping into the mountains when the moblins attacked at first light. He managed to survive by..." Turning to Gaiden, the soldier raised an eyebrow, "Actually, why don't you explain it to the prince. I'm still not sure if I fully understand."

"I was checking some of my inventory," Gaiden protested. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and his long nose quivered in reaction. "As Lady Arianna said, I am a only a lowly merchant."

"Ah, checking your inventory," Garret repeated. "In a cave, I hear. At night." He motioned to a servant who scurried forward to relieve him of his drinking horn. "Lady Arianna, or should I say princess Zelda, how do you know this man?"

The expected reaction never came. Gaiden started, yet it was obvious that Zelda's identity was not entirely a revelation. Instead it seemed to awaken the businessman within as his eyes darted speculative glances between Garret and Zelda, studiously avoiding Demon.

"He betrayed me to a gang of thugs in an alleyway," Zelda stated, quite calmly. "But I think this time we can trust him."

Garret frowned. "Why, princess?"

"Because she told me the thugs killed him," Demon growled.

"I'm beginning to understand," Garret said, a strange gleam in his eye. "So unless Gaiden provides us with some very useful information and convinces us that he is indeed the only survivor of the Kakoriko massacre..."

"We let Demon eat his heart," Leon finished, sweeping into the tent. He gave a cursory bow to the prince, before intercepting the servant returning with Garret's ale horn and draining the vessel with one swallow. "The outer sentries have lit fires to discourage another attack, my prince. Those at rest have been given a double drink ration, as ordered."

Garret nodded absently, pointing his servant back to the table in the corner. "Eat his heart, I like it. It seems that we have an agreement, Gaiden. I suggest you begin explaining why I should not let Demon have your heart."

"Eat my heart!" Gaiden exclaimed. "I should hardly think a man of your lineage would allow such a barbaric disgrace under his command! I was _forced_ to betray her grace in the alleyway in return for the lives of my wife and children! Also, I hid my wares and visited them only at night so the Aratians wouldn't steal them without paying!"

"He also had a bag of dusty rupees," the guard pointed out, "most likely gathered from the remains of the village."

Gaiden twitched. "The dead have no use for them! What would you have had me do, your majesty?"

The prince's form was motionless as his eyes studied the diminutive man before him, searching, evaluating. Only the distant laughter and conversation of Termina's soldiery broke the silence, coupled with the erratic a guttering lamp within the tent. Even Gaiden ceased his relentless twitching, sensing that a reprieve, or his doom, was near at hand.

"I do not ask men to achieve the impossible," Garret began slowly, "and I see that you, Gaiden, are no soldier. What you are is a merchant and a coward, and while I admit I prefer stupid, brave men to smart cowards, your cowardice is the only reason you live to stand before me now. Yet I am troubled, merchant." The prince's face hardened, the bars of a cage closing on flesh and logic. "You say you betrayed the princess to save your family, you also say that you and your family lived in Kakoriko, yet where were your wife and children while you hid in the cave? Where was their husband and father?"

Gaiden was frozen, his shoulders slumped in an expression of profound guilt. Then he panicked. "They're dead! They burned themselves alive! That was the plan if the moblins came! Hyrule is finished, do you understand?" He raised his bound hands to point at Zelda. "It was your fault! Soldiers came after the blizzard asking about a 'Lady Arianna,' that's why they attacked the village! You are the princess of ash, the princess of blood!"

"Be silent, You craven maggot!" Garret roared, clambering to his feet.

The words dried in Gaiden's mouth, though his lips kept twitching from below wide, glazed eyes. He seemed ready to throw himself at Garret's feet, yet too overcome to complete the motion.

"Take him away," the prince continued through gritted teeth. "Untie him, and give him a horse and a weapon and send him back up the pass. Kill him if he attempts to return."

"A better man," Garret promised, looking to Gaiden, "would ask for a place in the vanguard, a chance to die with honour. But I fear that you would be as dangerous to our side as to the enemy, and I suffer neither cowards nor fools. Go and die alone in the wilderness, and may the goddesses curse your name."

"But," Gaiden began, "the moblins-"

"Do it," Garret interrupted, motioning to the soldier. A short struggle ensued as one man pulled while another pushed, but a combination of Gaiden's restraints and his slight build made the outcome inevitable. A single pitiful cry escaped his lips before he was dragged from the tent, one last entreaty against his fate.

"That was cruel, Garret," Zelda said as soon as the sound of the struggle had removed beyond earshot.

"This is war," came Garret's terse reply, "would you rather I had given him to Demon, as you suggested?"

"He wouldn't," Zelda began, then paused as she saw the anger in the assassin's eyes. She looked to Garret only to find a similar conviction.

"A man who abandons his family to moblins deserves far worse," the prince said simply.

With a hiss like a wraith in the night, the guttering lamp finally died, just as Garret accepted his brimming horn from his servant. While the man traversed the tent to attend to the wick, the prince surveyed his council.

"Is no one else going to drink?" he asked, "two casks is a tall order for one man, prince or not!"

Leon immediately leaned towards the jugs in the corner. "I humbly pledge to assist you in this task," he promised, bowing and shuffling in the same motion. Yet aside from him, no one moved.

"I will drink once we are decided," Zephros replied when the silence had grown to uncomfortable proportions. There was murmured assent from the other generals, and even from Russ who shifted beneath gleaming armor.

Garret shrugged. "If Leon leaves more than dregs that is. But tell me general, what did our craven friend teach you about our enemy?"

Zephros paused and his fair features narrowed in concentration. "The attack occured three days ago, which means it coincides with the start of our march from Clocktown. The attack was meant to convey a message, yet that message is hard to discern because the Aratians did not mean for Kakoriko to be burnt. In incinerating themselves and their monster enemies the villagers," here he looked apologetically to Zelda, "managed to thwart the enemy's plans."

"Yet you have a guess," Garret prompted.

The general snorted. "I always have a guess. Whatever we were supposed to find was meant to drive us to pitched battle upon Hyrule Field. The Aratians want us out of the mountains, they want us to gamble all upon one massive assault. Once again, I do not see why we should comply with their wishes."

"That is why the moblins have withdrawn then," Russ said, "to allow us unhindered passage to the field. It would also make last night's attack a feint."

"That is my guess," Zephros agreed. "I..." he fell silent as his eyes locked with Garret's.

"Some bloody feint!" the prince grumbled, but his face showed that he at least partly agreed. "Yet to what purpose? We have a distinct advantage upon the field, for Aratia has no cavalry!"

For the first time since Gaiden's exit, Demon stirred. "Their king cares not how much of his force is destroyed, his goal is to annihilate you utterly. In the mountains a remnant could escape, retreat to Termina. On the field, with the Aratians ahead and the mountains behind..."

Garret frowned. "Yet if we should overcome them?"

"He believes it impossible," Demon countered.

"A fool to dismiss us so quickly."

"He is not a fool," Demon said quietly.

The corner of Garret's lip twitched and an expression overcame his face that Zelda had seen only once before. In her mind he was holding a wooden sword amidst the palace's garden quarter, baffled and outraged that someone, anyone, would have the insolence to defeat him. "Such caution from the legendary Hero, I would not have expected it." He turned to study his generals as the sneer deepened his features. "Indeed, I am surprised at all of you. Did you think we would march out to defeat evil, only to falter now? Did you think that we mustered this army only to hide in the mountains like petty thieves? Would that break the Aratian strength? Would it return Hyrule to its rightful ruler? Would it prevent," he waved a hand, "the flames of war engulfing other villages across this land?"

The violence of the prince's passion stormed through the tent, sweeping dissent before it. A leader of men, he mustered an authority which brooked no argument.

"Have I ever betrayed you?" Garret shouted, "Have I ever been defeated? Ever been forced to retreat? Look to the banners behind me, to the victories we have achieved together! We will destroy the Aratians with the steel of swords and spears and the crush of our cavalry! Who doubts me?"

Not a word was spoken. Their eyes held doubts, yet their loyalty had been questioned and in that they were faultless. The crucible of a dozen campaigns had forged their trust in Garret, and even the threat of annihilation could not break it. They were his, swords and souls, and if the prince demanded victory then victory would be theirs.

"Princess," Garret said, and Zelda found that he was staring at her. "You were asked once, but you did not answer. What would the Goddesses have us do? How can we prevent other tragedies like Kakiriko unless we march out and _fight?_"

Zelda dug her fingers into the wolf pelt and hesitated, the coarse hair a distraction as her mind battled for an answer to Garret's question. Wisdom was not forthcoming.

"Or would you have us _wait_," the prince continued over her deliberation, "while the Aratians taunt us with other atrocities and other victims? Do you fear, as your Hero does, that I shall fail you?"

"I do not," Zelda said immediately, the only answer she could give. Her fingers delved farther into the pelt, her slim arms tensing.

"Then you approve my course."

Again Zelda paused and let her eyes slide away from his. Her mind remembered Kakoriko, wooden buildings under a snowy rind, then pictured the charred skeleton it had become. She thought of Impa, of Husam, of a thousand faces from a happier time, and the vows she had sworn to retake her home. Termina was her only hope, yet how could they prevail against such numbers. If she put her trust in Garret...

Yet if she faltered now...

"Yes," Zelda said, soft but resolute. "I approve. May the goddesses march with us."

The council released an audible breath, and Garret's triumphant smile was tainted with victory. The princess did not need to look to Demon to see the betrayal in his face, the truth that smouldered in his eyes. She did not want to admit that she might have chosen the wrong man to trust, that by her words she might have condemned an army to destruction.

000

Author's Note:

I realize this is an extremely verbose chapter. For some reason I kept deciding to use five words when two would have done fine. On the other hand, I'm proud of my growing ability to develop plot and character at the same time. Garret has been a wonderfully interesting character to develop over the course of this fic, and I feel like he really stands out in this chapter.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed reading this and feel free to leave a review. :-) The next chapter gets fairly bloody again, and I'll try to have it posted before Christmas.


	74. Chapter 72

Well, I've been on a fantasy writing tear, and I'm sharing the fruits of that with you by uploading a chapter a bit early. I don't want to give much away, but this is the first macro battle scene I've ever had to write, and I actually found it to be a lot of fun. Of course I'm not enough of a military buff yet to make it as factually accurate as it could be, but hopefully none of you will take me to task. :-)

I'm especially fond of the first portion of the chapter, which I think is one of my better accomplishments along with the interlude with Navi and Caius in Chapter 70. It's a little artsy for FanFiction, but heck, this place needs some class what with the massive influx of Twilight fics over recent years. :-)

Anyway, Merry Christmas to all of you out there.

**Chapter 72: For Death and Glory**

Where now are the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?

Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?

Where is the harp on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?

Where is the spring and the harvest, and the tall corn growing?

They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;

The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow...

**-Tolkien**

The summer the red plague took Clocktown was the summer Garret turned eleven. Young enough to be mortally vulnerable, yet too young to run his own estate, the prince had been sent to his grandsire, his father's father, in the hill country of North Termina. It was a place of wind-worn rock and sinuous canyons, and, to a young prince finally escaping the trappings of city life, it stank of grand adventure.

The person of his grandfather, a hero of both the Wars of Shadow and the Clock Schism, added to his sense of awe. His grandfather's name came up many times in the tomes his tutors forced upon him. The man seemed a living part of history, like a page ripped from an ancient book. In all the times Garret had seen him (he could count them on one hand), his grandfather was always garbed in strange styles and speaking of things that no other man seemed to ever have seen. His estate, when the young prince had arrived, was full of similar old men, wizened beneath exotic robes, yet bursting with the stories of old wars and different days. Garret had listened to them all in the hours between his daily adventures into the canyons.

Here, looking out over the darkening field of Hyrule he could remember only the one told by his grandfather on the day he'd first seen the doves. It was not a story of a certain duel, a battle, or even a war, but his grandfather's attempt at a warning. At eleven, Garret had not fully understood, but now, standing behind the shield-wall of his foot, reigns in hand, it was the doves which slipped to mind.

_You are a Telcontar, _the prince heard a gravelly voice begin, _and thus you will have many enemies. Enemies beget violence, and violence begets war, and thus you will fight many wars."_

Garret had listened to this talk of war wide-eyed with the knowledge that his other relatives always urged him to think of peace and prosperity rather than enemies and violence. He'd almost missed the old man's gesture towards a flight of doves in the courtyard, a gnarled finger stretched from a leathery arm.

_My enemies called me a wolf, because they wished to believe that I had a taste for the shedding of blood and that I preyed upon the innocent. I called them doves, and they flattered themselves by supposing that I attempted to demean their peaceful intentions. But watch the doves, boy. Watch them closely._

Garret had not watched the doves. Instead he had watched his grandfather walk away, entirely mystified by the conundrums written in his words and the painful jerk in his slow gait. It had been some days before the prince had found time between his adventures and his stories to sit in the courtyard before the doves.

Yet the first time he did so he watched until nightfall, for even at eleven Garret had been a tenacious spirit. He'd sat and watched the creatures that were described in the poems as "messengers of peace" or "goddess birds", in the unarticulated hope that they would somehow help him understand his grandfather. The second day he had sat for a shorter time, and the third shorter still, for by then he had begun to see how little the poets knew of doves.

On the fourth day Garret brought a slingshot to the yard, and, in the most callous motion of his young life, he brained the largest and fattest of the flight. The rest scattered in an explosion of sound and movement, ignorant of the justice which the prince believed to guide his actions. Garret remembered staring at the broken body before him and wanting to kick it, spit on it, and crush it. Instead he walked away and suddenly found his grandfather beside him.

_Do you know what the difference is between a dove and a wolf?_ The man had asked. _Do you now see why I called my enemies doves and laughed at their pride? Tell me, why did you kill that bird?_

The prince did not remember what he said, something about the bird being a murderer and how he saved the lives of three other members of the flight. He'd related how he'd watched for days while the larger bird threatened and teased and maimed, and how one of the dove's victims had already disappeared from the morning's gathering.

His grandfather smiled, but a smile without warmth. _You saved no birds today, boy. Another has already risen to replace the one you killed, and if you kill that one another will rise until only one remains. That is the way of the world._

Garret replied that his grandfather's enemies were evil and he hoped they'd all been killed. The man had smiled again, and Garret had been reminded of the courtiers in Clocktown who whispered things like "cruel" and "brutal" when his grandfather left the room.

_There are two types of enemies you will have, boy. Some will be doves, and some will be wolves. _Garret felt the man's hand fall on his shoulder as the physical weight of his word's importance. _ A wolf is a dangerous creature. It will fight hard and bitterly, and it can inflict terrible wounds, but it is also a noble creature. A wolf will not kill a fellow wolf except at the utmost need, for it understands honour._

His fingers delved in the prince's shoulder until Garret twisted uncomfortably, unable to shake the grip. _A dove is a terrible creature. It is one of those beasts which will kill its own, even abandon its own young to save itself. A dove does not understand honour, only strength and weakness, for it preys on the weak._

_ A man must always know the nature of his enemy, whether those on the opposing side are wolves, or whether they are doves. One may win a war against wolves, just as one may win a war against doves, but they must be different kinds of war._

_ For if you wage a dove's war against a wolf you will betray the honour of his kind, and you will become a dove in the eyes of his fellows. And if you wage a wolf's war against a dove..._

Garret felt tears spring to his eyes as his grandfather's hand tightened still further. The slingshot fell from fingers devoid of strength, and the toy cracked underneath the man's feet like the hollow bones found beneath the eyrie of his falcons.

_He will destroy you._

000

"Here they come," breathed Zephros, his eyes narrowed against the early afternoon brightness. "Eight thousand moblins marching under the midday sun. Look well my friends, for you will never see such a sight again."

The other three generals remained silent. Silver armor gleamed as their destriers snorted and stamped with the first whiff of moblin hides, yet behind the facade lay the uncertainty of all commanders at the final threshold. In the breath before the scream all plans promise the seeds of failure.

"The field is well chosen," one man said finally. He was the same who had spoken for Zephros at the war council, only to be overruled by Garret's burst of passion.

"Truly," muttered Zephros, but his tone was dark. "We have the hill, the farm, the gully to our left and the embankment to our right. It is well chosen, yet only this morning our flanks were guarded by mountains. Do not let them encircle us, my friends, or it will take more than cavalry to save us."

The general drew his sword and squeezed the pommel with his free hand. "To glory," he pronounced, "and to victory."

The other three drew their swords, but hesitated to match the oath. Once again it was the negotiator who spoke.

"Nay," he said, "you have misjudged it. I will swear to victory truly, but I have little regard for glory. To victory and to Garret!" he pronounced as he squeezed the pommel of his own blade. "May he yet lead us home!"

This time, no one hesitated in repeating the oath.

000

Zelda's horse snorted as she pulled on the reigns, perhaps scenting the imminence of blood. It pranced still, fighting the restriction of its rider, yet the princess was firm in her control. Not that she was feeling any less skittish than her mount, she simply had more reason to fight the urge to flee.

She could see the dark tide creeping inevitably, imminently forward, the strengthening wind carrying the stink of pig across the narrowing gap between the two armies. On her left the Aratian foot, on the right and in the center the baying strength of the moblin tribes, and yet intermixed with the occasional shapes of stranger foes. Near the limits of her vision she glimpsed dark forms grouped around the looming banners of Aratia, but a fog seemed to lie between them and her sight. She squinted, yet...

A man in the rank before her hunched forward and puked into the back of his shield. He retched and the princess felt her own stomach convulse. _Please goddesses_, she breathed, _keep my bread inside me. Let me seem strong before these men, just as they are strong before me. Let us win this war, Nayru, Farore, Din. Let us save this land._

Zelda stifled the tear with her finger before it had fully formed, aware of the tired, sagging skin beneath her hand and its oily layer of sweat. She realized how strange her prayer was, here on the cusp of the goddesses war against evil. They had given her an army, hadn't they? It was their will which had placed the might of Termina squarely against the Aratian usurpers, was not victory at hand?

_Your will be done, _Zelda's lips moved to form soundless words, _do not forsake us now._

Before her the soldier continued to retch, but there was nothing left in his stomach to be expelled. Somewhere under the uncaring sun the dull thunder of drums began.

000

A Terminian shield wall is a formidable thing under any circumstances, a forest of spears backed by one long undulating trunk which runs the length of the line. The men at the front carry no weapons, only the ponderous weight of a Terminian great shield, while the two ranks behind them thrust spears over shoulders and between helms. Steel spikes are passed through fittings in the bottom of the shield and hammered into the ground, and, if given the opportunity, the Terminians delve a small ditch before the wall to disrupt the enemy charge.

Garret's army had chosen the field, they had prepared it well, and they faced their opponents not in the horror of darkness but the strength of the summer sun.

The gap between armies diminished as the drums beat faster, as weapons were drawn and spears lowered in defiant opposition. The center and left of the Aratian mass quickly outdistances the stolid march of the right, stumbling forwards into an ill-disciplined rush on the Terminian line. Five score immediately fell with white-fletched arrows embedded in vital areas, yet this time the charge did not break, did not falter. Cowards that they were, the monsters knew they had more to fear behind them then the shield wall in front.

What is the sound of thousands of weapons and thousands of bodies colliding in opposition? Who can describe the din of arms, the rage of the embattled, the curse of the dying?

The moblins came, their bodies filling the ditches, blunting the spears, and exhausting the Terminian quivers. On the left the Aratian infantry closed with the wall and began a bitter struggle amidst the dying. On the right groups of monsters moved to flank their opponents, only to falter amidst the concentrated fire of the archers. In the center the crush of bodies became so tight the rank of shields were forced backwards a full five paces, and corpses had no room to fall.

It was amidst this crush that Omar found himself, his shield pressed against the man in front of him with all the strength he could muster. Another shield was pressed against his own shoulder blades, a link in a chain of compression which spanned both armies, and Omar fought just to keep his feet. To slip now… the consequences were unthinkable.

A pawn on a board of thousands he slid and slid again, bruising his knuckles and digging in his heels to no effect. Now more than ever he missed his privileged position at Garret's back, but the sacrifice had been necessary. Sweat beaded on his cheek and mixed with blood spatter flung from some source far forward. Behind him a man groaned, and he felt his shield creak from his exertion.

Just as Omar feared that the tide could not be stilled, that the center would break and doom the wings to becoming islands in a murderous ocean, a shout arose from the ranks behind him. "Garret!" he heard the first voice cry. "Garret!" more voices answered. "Garret!" Omar added his own hoarseness and pushed with the loyalty of desperation.

On the next roar his feet caught, on the one after that he stepped forward, then forward again. Twelve steps and there was moblin blood beneath his feet, and the call came to hold the line.

Omar grimaced and dug his heals into the drenched earth. They had faced the moblin charge and mastered it, he thought euphorically. For what threat were moblins in daylight after having faced them in the narrow, dark passages of Death Mountain? What could the beasts do but run to the slaughter? Might his ancient mother live to see her son return after all?

Only when the first gold and dun ragdoll, accompanied by the splinters of his shield, landed on Omar's neighbour, did the guardsmen realize how naive his thoughts had become.

000

Garret watched the broken bodies of his men with a mixture of resignation and anger, aware of both his restlessness and the shuffling of his cavalry around him. With a sign he committed the majority of his reserves to the left flank where the Aratian infantry threatened to overwhelm his own, knowing that bodies alone would not save his center. Indeed, the shield wall was already crumpling, divots forming around the towering forms of those shadow knights, those darknuts, of which he'd had but brief and bitter experience. He had hoped…

But what use was hope against a steel monstrosity animated by sorcery and armed with a blade that outweighed the men it clove? Spears snapped against it, blades broke and shields shattered in futile attempt to stop its advance. And with each step into the line it tore a hole in the wall which could not be repaired.

His men were adapting, Garett knew, forming pockets around the creatures and harrying the few areas that might possibly be vulnerable. In an open field with space to retreat such tactics would have had an acceptable chance of success. In the confines of formation it simply bought his men a few more seconds of desperate life. Garret watched one monster crush a soldier's skull with one hand while using the other to hold off four attackers. A spear was buried beneath one of its pauldrons, but it hardly seemed to slow the beast down.

It was too early, the right wing wasn't fully engaged, yet delay was proving to be disastrous for his line. The prince clutched his reigns with one gauntleted hand and raised his lance with the other. Like an advancing wave the tips of four hundred other weapons pierced the already battle-torn air, a forest of death bent to one fell purpose.

The prince had initially arrayed his cavalry behind his host, and only wheeled the horse to the right flank after the initial clash had masked his movement. The moblins near the edge of the Aratian force had seen the maneuver and turned to face the new threat, but the true powers of command had not received news of it nor had time to counter. Instead of drawing together to face the attack, the monsters shrank back into their own chaotic line, leaving gaps and vulnerabilities that Garret was only too eager to exploit. He needed time to reform his line; he need to give the harpers something to compose upon for a dozen generations, and so the prince of Termina took spear in hand and hurled defiance into the face of evil itself.

"To glory!" Garret shouted, "For Termina!" With that he set spurs to flesh, and began the charge he'd dreamed of since he'd left the cradle.

000

The steel only struck his shield a glancing blow, yet it ripped the feeble barrier from Omar's numbed arm with terrifying force. The guardsman fell flat to avoid the backswing, while striking out frantically at the darknut's feet. CLANG! His sword rebounded as the wet crunch of meat informed him of the fate of the two men behind him. Scrabbling for purchase, he rolled to his back just in time to see the massive blade rise above the creature's head for a brutal downstroke. He winced and closed his eyes, but somehow failed to die.

Instead the monster gave a bestial roar, and Omar discovered with a glance that one of his comrades had succeeded in driving a spear into the beast's armpit while its limbs were raised. Suddenly the killing blow had become a horizontal sweep, and the creature's attention had been diverted from Omar to more pressing foes. A massive boot, rank with some foul odor, brushed the guardsman's head and he instinctively grabbed hold. _I hope you've been praying, mother, _he thought, _because your baby boy is about to get stomped on._

Two more Terminians were hastened to the Sacred Realm before the darknut reverted its attention to Omar, reaching down with one massive gauntlet and wrapping steel fingers around his head. Anticipating the inevitable, Omar shifted his grip from the foot to the hand, and thus when the shaking came it merely disoriented him rather than breaking his neck. He heard the beast roar in pain once more, and hoped that it was the result of another spear and not simply it's frustration with how long he was taking to die. His boot collided with something soft and giving and he heard the snap of a breaking nose, then there was more shaking and he forgot to notice the things taking place to any part of his body below the neck.

He heard one last anguished roar from his attacker, mixed with the cavalry horns which signaled a charge, before the shaking (and his consciousness) finally ceased. Darknut and guardsman fell almost as one to the blood-stained earth, two foes united in the last journey of all mortal things.

000

"The prince has commanded that you retreat to the farm!"

Zelda eyed the man coldly, noting both the determination in his face and his hold upon her horse's bridle. He was already pulling its head away from the battle, not even awaiting her response to begin obeying his orders.

"Did the prince explain this command?" she asked, struggling to make herself heard over the noise of battle. Instead of complying she subtly pulled on the reigns in resistance. Her horse shuddered and pranced beneath her, but the action bought a several moments to continue studying the results of Garret's charge.

"He didn't, yet..." the man's voice trailed off as he too attempted to peer over the heads of the infantry towards the field of battle beyond. "Please princess, the darknuts are forcing us to abandon the shield wall, and without the wall we cannot guarantee the safety of this position."

Zelda frowned, abruptly focused on something far beyond the man at her side. "Garret's retreating," she almost shouted, "have we lost? But he has destroyed almost the entire wing!"

"A cavalry charge must disengage when its force is expended, princess," the man said gently. "Otherwise the men will be surrounded and pulled from their horses. If the wing is destroyed as you say then the charge has succeeded. But please, princess" the man tugged on her bridle again, "we must obey the prince!"

"No," Zelda muttered, "we don't." She glared at the man until he removed his hands from her horse, yet the pleading in his eyes did not abate. "Princess, if you perish this whole war will have been for naught."

"If the goddesses fail me now, then this war won't matter anyway!" Zelda snapped back. "I'm not a piece of glass, man!"

The soldier winced, a muscle in his jaw clenching with some internal struggle. Eventually his gaze shifted back to Zelda, then dropped to the ground. "The Lord Demon also suggests you retreat to the farm. He says...he fights poorly while worrying about your safety."

The princess raised an eyebrow. "He said that?"

"Mostly." The man's gaze never left the ground.

"Where is he?"

"On the line, princess. He was the one who pleaded with Garret to command you back. Now please-"

"I'll go!" Zelda said, the corners of her eyes tightening. "Just find me a spot inside where I can see the battle." She wheeled her horse around, squaring her back to the writhing masses of men and creatures.

"But if anything happens," she raised a hand towards the soldier. "If anything happens to the battle, to Garret, or...or to the Lord Demon I want to know immediately. Do you understand?"

"I will do my best, princess," the man said. It was the most he could promise.

000

"I wish to surrender," Demon said as the two Aratian scouts approached. Both gleamed in the crimson armor of the enemy, their black mounts snorting and stomping in agitation.

"We don't take prisoners," the one on the left said in a voice muffled by his steel helm. Both soldiers drew their swords, but hesitated at Demon's apparent unconcern.

"I know where she went," Demon replied, "your king needs me alive."

"Who went?"

"The princess."

The soldier laughed and glanced to his companion. "I pity you," he said, "you and all those other poor bastards with you, but I have my orders." He urged his horse forward and swung viciously, but Demon had already stepped beyond his reach.

"There are eighty of you spread out between us and the mountains," Demon started, continuing to retreat as the scout swung at him, "a net to delay any attempt at retreat, or prevent Garret or the princess from slipping away from the battle. Ten of you are dead and there is a hole in your line two leagues wide. The princess is gone."

"Stop," the second Aratian cried, and his partner cursed viciously but stayed his weapon. "Who are you, and why would you wish to betray such secret? You wear the armor of Garret's personal guard!"

"My name is Omar," Demon said, "and I wish to live."

000

Omar awoke suddenly, like a babe in the womb, and discovered that he could not breathe. His twisted and crushed chest felt flattened as if by a moblin hammer, and his mouth and nose were drenched in some viscous fluid which stretched like a membrane across his face. He tried to scream, and couldn't. He tried to move, and couldn't. It was the worst feeling the soldier had ever experienced, even worse than being trapped in that cave on Death Mountain. He was going to drown in the midst of a battle, drown on something that tasted like moblin excrement.

_No, _Omar thought, _I won't let them tell my mother her son died in a pile of shit. _He felt a sudden pressure on his hand and grasped instinctively, only to have the object ripped from his grasp. He flailed his fingers with all the violent energy of a drowning man who, for some reason, can only move the digits on one hand.

First there was shouting, then a terrifying rocking motion which seemed to move the whole world and sent scorpions of pain through Omar's ravaged chest. Then suddenly the weight was gone and there was air! Also light, and motion, but it was the thin stream of air that Omar drew into his punished lungs that most concerned him. The soldier sat there, gasping, while faces leaned in and out and frowned above him.

"Sir," one soldier said above the din. " Captain, can you move?"

Omar paused, hesitated, then licked his lips and winced at the taste. "I don't know," he said finally. "What in the Maiden's name happened?" He glanced around and found that the line of battle had swept over him, and he and other survivors were being pulled from the carnage by the rear ranks.

Two of the soldiers exchanged looks, then one gestured to a dark, hulking mound in Omar's peripheral. "The darknut fell on you. As it died."

"We killed one?" Omar asked, honestly astounded. "How?"

An order was given out of the surrounding devastation and three of the four men over Omar jogged back to their ranks. The fourth knelt down and began unstrapping the captain's breastplate.

"The Lord Demon showed us where their armor is weak," the man replied, "even so, this devil murdered a score of men before we killed it."

The final strap undone, the plate came off and the soldier studied Omar's chest with a concerned frown. He poked and prodded, pausing whenever the captain flinched. "Four ribs cracked, two broken," he finally concluded, then added "and your nose, too."

"My nose?" Omar asked, reaching up to feel a sodden mass which was much flatter than normal. It hurt, although not as much as his ribs.

The soldier above him had turned away to face the front line and a crescendo of noise that spilled over the front like a rolling tide. Omar tried to raise himself up on his elbows, but fell back cursing in the agony of his wounds. The ground itself was vibrating like a string plucked by many fingers and he could hear the now familiar roars of approaching foes. "Where's my sword, soldier?" he heard, and the words, in his own voice, seemed to come from someone else. "Where's my sword?"

Yet his question was lost amidst the hammers and the anvils as the earth shook and the air rang. On a battlefield littered with the dead and dying, one wounded soldier was too common an occurrence, too small a tragedy to merit attention from god or man, and so Omar lay helpless as corpse piled upon corpse and atrocity upon atrocity.

Helpless but alive, until a moblin paused in its advance upon the teetering Terminian infantry to plunge a spear into a broken body, stealing even that.

000

"It is time," the spectre declared from a crimson-stained throne. His eyes flicked from the battle to the silent giants which surrounded his litter, the cruel weapons in dark fists. He smiled, a strange expression for a visage as hollow, pale, haunted as his and made more ghoulish by the blood which dripped slowly from the base of his nostrils.

"Crush them, break them, hammer them, for the Master has foreseen their doom. Go! Do not return till it is done!"

The Aratian king gazed upon his guard, his silent white knights in their gleaming ranks, and trembled with the power of his joy. He was about to destroy an army, he was about to destroy the hope of two nations, and what is life but the appetite for destruction? Who desires destruction more than the Master?

His smile slipped as the chair jolted forward and the king was reminded that some of the stain upon his litter was from his own body. It gnawed at him, the fragility of mortal flesh, the sapping of his strength and will. He coughed once and tasted iron, cursing the legs which would no longer hold him upright.

"A messenger, your majesty!"

Turning in his chair, the king of Aratia beheld two men approaching in the harsh attire of his soldiery. Between them was strung a third, bound and unarmed. The captive's head hung low and his boots dragged small trails through the crushed grass. The king shook his head in disgust.

"I told you to give no quarter and take no captives," he hissed. "Yet this man is still alive. You know the price of failure, Ishmael."

One of the Aratians fumbled off his helmet and saluted, fear evident in eyes that did not suit it. "This one wears the armor of Garret's personal guard, my king. He names himself as Omar, a name our spies have heard before. He says the princess-"

"He's lying," the king broke in, "you found him fleeing, did you? And you believed this coward?"

"He says the princess had already escaped," Ishmael continued hesitantly, "But that he knows where and how to-"

The king laughed and twisted painfully in his chair to peer over the heads of his advancing darknuts. "But she's there on that silly white horse, or..." He paused and scanned the line again from behind calculating eyes. "But how could they escape your men, Ishmael?"

The captain shuffled, and cast his eyes down. "Several of my scouts were killed, my king. There was a hole, not for long of course. But enough for a few to have possibly trickled through."

Air hissed between stained teeth, as the king glared. "Clever fools with one last trick it seems, though why would they tell a lowly, cowardly bodyguard where she has gone?"

The Aratians dropped their burden to the ground, the captive's bound arms preventing him from breaking the fall. He turned his head and spat dirt, before looking up at the king through white blond locks. For his part, the king frowned, plagued by a familiar feeling for which he had forgotten the origin.

"Why would you tell a lowly gladiator," the man asked, "how to defeat a nation with one death?"

The king frowned, then paled until the lines of dried blood were the only colour in his face. "Kill him!" he cried, "To me! To the king!"

It was like trying to strike the storm.

One soldier was felled by a kick to the back of the knee, the other lost his throat in the same motion that cut Demon's bonds. A knife appeared in his left hand from a recess in his breastplate, while Ishmael's sword in his right crushed the downed man's helm. Seven score men and monsters rushed forward to their king's defense, yet all were a moment behind the assassin, too far to stop his blades.

Demon took two steps upon the grass, before leaping to the edge of the royal throne. Four swords cut through the air displaced by his passage, but the assassin's face showed no fear from the weapons reaching for his heels. He was a black arrow speeding for the target, a blue-eyed blur evading all odds.

The king spoke a word made ugly by latent magics, and the assassin felt his sword rebound off some hidden barrier. A second word twisted the weapon from his hands and the third would have carried him from the litter if he had not dropped to his knees beneath the torrent of power and let it rebuff his pursuers instead.

The king drew breath for one final word, his lips anticipating the syllables of destruction, but Demon had already thrust with his remaining knife. It cut through the magic like butter and slid deep into the side of the man who had destroyed Hyrule.

The word of power changed into a sob as the king's eyes widen still further. "That is one of the Terim," he choked. "You knew! You _knew_!"

He said something else as well, something whispered soft through the mists of shock, yet Demon was no longer close enough to hear. Forgotten, he made his escape, while monster and soldier alike stared at the throne which contained their wounded king. For the first time that day uncertainty plagued the hearts of each as they clutched weapons and looked at each other sideways in the evening air.

000

Author's Notes:

Both of my beta readers told me that the end of this chapter is fairly confusing, so before I get crazy questions like "how did Demon get to the king of Aratia's throne room?" I'll save both of us some time.

Demon is wearing Omar's armor, which is why Omar is marching with the Terminian rank and file. He's out behind the army killing sentries during the first portion of the battle, then convinces Garret to have Zelda moved out of sight and immediately surrenders himself to the Aratians. The hole in the sentry net combined with the princess's disappearance gives his story enough credibility that Ishmael agrees to bring him before the king. By the way, the king is within his own formation on the field of battle (seated on a palanquin), not back in Castletown.

At the very beginning of this story (pre-Chapter 10), the king of Aratia tasks Demon with cutting the head of the Hylian snake (killing princess Zelda). Demon's line before he attacks the king is a reference to this task (which he obviously never completed), and shows that the assassin is making a desperate attempt to sway the battle in Garret's favour, despite the friction between him and the prince.

The next chapter will of course determine how his attempt plays out. :-)

-Celeborn00

P.S. Only the beautiful Vladimir the Hamster and inestimable Madoju reviewed the last chapter. I'm only human and I could use a little more encouragement than two reviews. :-)


	75. Chapter 73

Well folks, this is the Christmas special once again. Uploading three in a row like this means I've only got a two chapter cushion so I may not be updating again soon, but I think this plot arc needs to be finished while it's fresh in people's minds.

It's been a great Christmas Eve over here in Caras Galadhon. :-) I bought my brother a fuzzy 'onesie' with Rubik's Cubes all over it (and a matching Rubik's cube coffee mug), and he's been sporting both all evening. My sister and I have been singing "O Holy Night" (profoundly off-key in my case), and throwing insults back and forth, and my father's retired to bed in a glucose stupor after having consumed a delicious mix of butter tarts, peanut brittle, chocolate truffles, bishop's bread, almond roca, and about 12 types of cookies.

Usually we watch "It's a Wonderful Life," but we all kind of agreed we were sick of that movie, so we watched some sort of Yellowstone National Park Christmas special instead. There were a lot of wolves involved, and the howls were scaring our idiot cat, so all of a sudden my whole family and I were howling up a storm with our cat crouched behind the TV with his ears flat back.

Spiritual elements aside, Christmas is such a silly time of year around here. Tomorrow I'm in charge of organizing a family "Fear Factor" in which I'm going to make my brother drink a ground up Happy Meal (amongst other things). The whole event will obviously be taped for posterity. :-)

What a wonderful season. I hope you enjoy this really bloody, depressing chapter.

-Celeborn00

_"Dovie'andi se tovya sagain."_

-Mat Cuathon

Chapter 73

Garret struck, his sword tearing a ragged hole through flesh and tendon to finally catch against the bony root of the moblin's tusk. The beast's scream gargled blood and meat as it raised weaponless hands to its mangled face, but there was no mercy in the prince of Termina. He turned to hack at another foe while urging his mount on into the staggered line. At his side and back his two hundred remaining cavalry copied his motions blade for blade and butchery for butchery. Yet even so, the monsters continued to advance.

"Now, my prince!" Toc shouted from his place at Garret's side. A jagged spear scraped across the face of his shield and he shattered the hand that grasped the weapon..

"The line is not ready!" the prince retorted. "We must hold!"

"Look ahead! We must fall back!"

Garret looked, and saw a space opening in the field ahead. The moblins were wavering, falling back to flank an advancing formation from deep within their own line.

The prince paled and turned his horse with wrenching speed. Darknuts. In ranks a score across and three deep, clad in ghastly white armor. He could throw the rest of his cavalry at that mass, that heart of the reforming Aratian army, and merely scratch a few plates of mail. He could throw in the rest of his infantry, and maybe claim half that number for the dark gates…if he was lucky.

Toc was already blowing two sharp staccato notes upon his horn – the signal for a retreat to the infantry. For a moment he took his eyes off the man he had sworn to protect with his life, only a moment, but the prince was not known as a man who pondered his decisions. When Toc's attention returned, Garret had turned his horse again and was spurring his mount towards the centre of the Aratian mass.

"We are wolves!" The prince screamed as he picked up speed. "Wolves do not run!" His bloody sword glinted with the fire of a dying sun, a single piece of Terminian steel against the weapons of an entire army. It was a sight that neither friend nor foe had ever seen, or would ever see again. It was an act of rage, or defiance, or insanity, an act worthy of legends for a thousand years.

The lives of bodyguards are spent training for a moment that they hope will never come, and while Toc had faced many tight moments on Garret's behalf in his time, he had never before watched his prince approach such an inevitable demise. A man never knows what decision he will make in such a moment, and truly Toc did not seem to realize he was raising the horn to his lips once more, or sounding the series of notes for a full cavalry and infantry attack even as he spurred his own horse after Garret's. But as surely as the prince had decided to bet his own mortality on one final gamble, Toc had thrown three thousand other souls into the wager. _Let the goddesses toss the dice_, he thought as he raised his own weapon in the salute of a doomed man, _my prince is still unbeaten._

And indeed a divine power did seem to be protecting Garret, for even as he approached the unblemished line of the enemy a thin scream echoed from deep in its ranks. It should not have been heard over the blare of the battle, yet somehow it rose above the stomp and tread of mere soldiery and reached the ear of every man, every monster, in the same instant. A dark blur raced from one edge of the moblin line, but few even gave it notice as they watched in amazement as the Aratians sprung in disarray.

The wall of darknut armor, so impregnable moments before, jostled and turned inward. Some moblins threw down weapons, while others covered their eyes in pain against the forbidding sun. The Aratian foot on the right lowered spears not only against the soldiers of Termina but also against their own center. Voices, some bestial, some human, rose in a clamor that muffled the Terminian advance. Having pulled up short upon hearing the scream, Garret was the only part of his force not moving to the attack. His narrowed eyes betrayed only confusion when Toc reached him, but it quickly hardened into something else.

"It is fate," the prince muttered to his bodyguard. "We may conquer yet!"

The pace of the Terminian infantry quickened to a jog while the cavalry formed up behind Garret. Everywhere they closed with the enemy, hacking and slashing with the strength of desperate men in whom hope had flowered anew. Moblins fell like wheat before their advance, indeed few even bothered to resist.

The Aratian left disintegrated beneath the onslaught, while the right was forced farther and farther from the main host by a Terminan wedge driven between the two forces. Victory, like sweet ambrosia, tantalized the appetite of the Terminians and on all fronts they crowded to the attack. Garret himself led his horse in a frontal assault on the formation of darknuts with the light of certainty shining in his eyes.

He would win. He would prevail. Glory would be his forever as the man who conquered the armies of evil when the goddess-chosen could not. _We are wolves, grandfather_, he thought viciously, _and destiny trembles at our approach._

But fate is a fickle ally, and no man, not even a prince, is master of his destiny.

And so, even as Garret led his great charge to rend the heart from the Aratians, a rippling force swept over the forces arrayed against him, and man and beast shivered at the change. Like clockwork the darknuts closed ranks once more and lowered massive weapons to meet the assault, as a maimed, blooded figure stepped forward into the shrinking space between forces.

The king of Aratia was appalling to behold. Blood ran freely down his raiment from nose, mouth, and a gaping wound in his side, and he swayed like a drunk in the evening air. One arm hung uselessly while the other rose to point an accusing finger at the prince across from him. He laughed then, and his eyes betrayed the power which still inhabited the broken body.

"You fools!" he said, and his voice echoed impossibly louds across the battlefield. "To think that cursed blade alone could destroy me! You have tried to kill a snake and found that it is instead a hydra!" The king glared out over his assembled foes, and dropped his arm. "Curse the goddesses and die," he pronounced with dark surety, "you are vanquished!"

Scarcely had his last words been uttered before a deafening roar arose from the ranks of the Aratians and they moved as one to reach their dismayed opponents. Yammering and howling with fanatic rage the creatures ignored threat and wound in their frenzied attack, throwing themselves upon spear and sword in happy exchange for Terminian lives. Garret's men reeled in horror at the sudden twist in their fortunes, and only their discipline saved them from immediate rout. Yet men and moblin fell together amidst a chaos that defied any attempt at order or formation, and thus the prince's forces were slowly encircled.

It was testament to the loyalty Garret commanded that it was only when the darknut phalanx crashed into the line that the first soldiers threw down their weapons in the madness of fear. It did not save them, of course, did not prevent the crunching of frail bones beneath the boots of the monstrous shadow knights. It simply made the Terminian destruction that much more certain, that much closer to hand.

000

Zephros bounded up the ladder to the loft of the old barn as if death itself were at his heels, and indeed death did not seem far off. He clumsily removed his helm and bowed to Zelda with a motion so quick it was barely discernible.

The princess had turned from the open window at the first sound of his approach, yet the position of her body betrayed her great desire to return to watching the culmination of the battle. Screams and the clash of arms echoed faintly from behind her, and, despite himself, her guest craned his head to peer over her shoulder. In his eyes, as in Zelda's, was reflected a horrible knowledge that neither voiced, but both agreed on.

Zephros bowed again and tore his eyes away from the massacre of his fellows to look upon the princess. He passed his helm from one hand to the other, then back, trying to muster the courage to speak. When he did, it was in the carefully measured tone one might use with a small child.

"We must go, princess. I have your horse and four of my men waiting in the yard." Sunlight streamed sideways through the long window and contorted Zelda's shadow upon the wall. Turning back to face the battle she squinted against its evening glory.

"How brave of you to think of my safety above your other loyalties," she said, and Zephros flushed dark at the insult.

"The prince made me swear an oath," he said stiffly. "And it is only because of that oath that I am not out there among my men. The prince said the goddesses-"

"There are no goddesses," interrupted Zelda coldy. "And I am only a stupid girl who has gotten thousands of men killed for a foolish dream." She lowered herself to sit upon the windowsill. "I do not wish to survive, Zephros, after having seen such a day as this. I do not wish to, to…" she blinked as tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, "see _his_ triumph over my people and yours. I must not leave."

"Then there is no hope?" asked Zephros, and even his harsh voice caught at the sudden revelation. "But Garret believed the goddesses would…"

The princess's eyes flashed as she looked up to face the soldier, her hands grasping the ledge with desperate strength. "There are no goddesses! Evil is real, yes. Ganondorf is real. The Triforce is real. But the goddesses…who can say? At every turn they have abandoned us, betrayed us, murdered us, even as we have cried out to them."

Zephros shook his head, the quick twist of a dog ridding itself of an irritating fly. "You must leave, princess, willingly or not. I will not fail my prince."

Zelda looked back once more to the shrinking clot of men upon which the might of Aratia fell, then slowly leaned forward and to her feet. Suddenly she drew her sword, stretching to clear the tip of the blade from its sheath, and held out the wavering point.

"I cannot stop you," she admitted in contrast to her actions, "but I will not forgive you either. Would you truly dishonor me in this way, even at the command of your prince? Your men have chosen the place and hour of their death, why am I not allowed the same privilege?"

Zephros glanced down the ladder and made a sign which caused another pair of hands to appear the opening. He stepped forward, arms wide and face pleading, although his advance and posture were far from conciliatory.

"I regret that there is not time, else I would not resort to this. But you speak madness and the horde is coming."

He stepped forward again, and Zelda stepped back and felt the window ledge press against her. She raised her sword in a defensive stance that Demon had taught her and mourned for happier times in the gardens of Termina. In the face of death, it is easy to remember and to regret.

The man climbing the ladder behind Zephros had just pushed his shoulders up into the loft when he suddenly disappeared with a startled cry and an ugly impact. The general half turned and Zelda forgot all about keeping her sword at the proper height as she watched a black and silver form almost fly through the narrow hole.

Demon's harsh features were distorted still further by the urgency dancing in his cold eyes. The armor he wore was scored with the marks of fierce fighting and only pieces of it still clung to his body, the rest he had lost or discarded although the princess knew not in what engagement.

"Garret and the army are lost," he rasped to Zelda, as if he had expected to find her with sword drawn harassing a Terminian general, "we have only moments."

Zephros scowled. "Ah, so it is now, at the last, that the dreaded Butcher shows his face. And only so he can run away. Or perhaps you were fighting for your former masters in Aratia?"

Unstrapping his breastplate and tossing it away, Demon kept his gaze on Zelda. "Perhaps I did," he replied, "it makes no difference now. But princess, we _must_ go!"

Zephros shrugged. "She is too honorable to leave. I am glad that one of you at least, understands honor."

Sparks jumped to Demon's eyes, but he banished them with obvious effort. "Garret's orders were to get her away from this place, and in that you and I agree. You are no use here, go wait with the horses."

"But-" the general protested.

"NOW!" Demon roared. "Or I will kill you where you stand!" He turned away even before the man began his unwilling descent down the ladder.

"I'm not going," Zelda said before he could speak. "Those men," she pointed through the window, "are dying for us, for me, for a falsehood that I told them! I will not leave while one of them stands, and I have wasted enough time arguing here!"

The assassin did not move to defend himself, even as the princess approached with a drawn blade. "Those men are not dying for you," he said. "They are not fighting for you, princess."

Zelda stopped, hesitating. "We have killed them, Demon," she argued, "do you not admit that?"

"They are fighting for Garret," Demon continued, "they marched for Garret, and they are dying for Garret. They love you, princess, but remember the council in Kakariko – this is Garret's war."

"Yet we told them the goddesses were on our side!" Zelda cried. "We promised them divine protection! The goddesses do not exist, Demon! We are alone." She wept openly, the tears trailing thin lines down her cheeks in contrast to the shouts of the embattled on the field below. "In our pride we have destroyed everything!"

"I have seen the power of the goddesses," Demon said softly. "I have seen them make and unmake worlds, I have felt their attention and I have both blessed and cursed their names. I swear to you that they exist."

The princess stared at him, baffled by the surety in his voice despite his lack of any evidence. "I will strike you if you touch me," she said finally in a small, frail voice. "We have failed, Demon. We have failed Hyrule and Termina, and no one else must sacrifice themselves on our account. Obey me this one last time."

Even as she finished speaking Demon stepped forward, advancing to meet the sword which rose to challenge him. When he stopped Zelda was pressed against the window once more, and the point of her sword was resting on his chest.

"Then strike me," he commanded, and the old darkness flared in his eyes, "for if you allow me to live then I will see you safely from this place. I will follow you into the darkness, I will follow you unto the world's ending, but I will _not_ allow you to die this way!"

Zelda shrank back, feeling the point of her blade digging into his skin. "I stabbed the Aratian king," Demon whispered, "and he_ bled_. If we can make them bleed…please princess, do you not see there is still hope?"

"How do you know," Zelda said, "how do you know the goddesses are real?"

Demon pinched the tip of the sword between grimy fingers and pulled it to the side, advancing until his gaunt features were only inches from the princess's stained eyes. "I knew the moment I beheld you in Arawn's dungeon. I knew only the goddesses could have given me another chance!"

The assassin shivered and drew away, struggling to bury emotion under the urgency of the moment. "Now strike me or follow me, Zelda, but hurry!"

It was only a moment, yet a moment on which the doom of five soldiers, one assassin, and one princess hung. At the end of it the princess clumsily wiped the tears from her face and straightened with a terrible determination written across her features.

Demon saw her choice and nodded once, rare sympathy apparent in his eyes. He watched the princess sheath her sword, and then led her down the ladder and out among the stalls on the floor of the barn. Zelda said nothing, nor did she object to the careful grip he kept upon her arm or the helm he placed gently upon her head. She was grieving the loss of much, and little else could distract her.

The lower floor was infused with the smell of ancient dung and dust, the remnants of fossilized hay decaying in grey mangers. Zephros was a shadow against the streaks of light shining between timbers.

"It's too late," he proclaimed, turning towards the princess and her guardian. "The choice is made."

Demon whirled, his grip upon Zelda's arm tightening as he pulled her towards the entrance and the horses. The princess winced at a sharp pain in her shoulder, and tried to force her legs to move in the right direction. She wondered why Zephros wasn't bothering to run, or even draw his sword. She wondered...

The rear of the barn exploded in a shower of planks and splinters that unleashed the full glory of the setting sun into the shadowed interior. From the blinding light, like avenging spirits, came three massive darknuts, each step demolishing wooden construction like a child stepping upon a house of cards. The barn groaned under the sudden abuse, a sound engulfed by the war cries of the moblins who surged after the knights. Only the lucky chance that they were at the other end of the barn saved the Hylians from immediate death, and yet luck only bought them a few moments to meet the charge.

Zelda's sword was in her hand before she knew it, even as she watched a despairing Zephros disappear under a cloud of dust and wood. It occurred to her then, as she shook Demon's hand from her arm, that the assassin had no weapon, and she smiled grimly. Perhaps she would die on the battlefield after all. Maybe the choice was being made for her, and she could let the responsibility for it fly from her hands.

Yet the pain of defeat, of standing helplessly by while men died for her, was still too fresh to let Zelda give up so easily. Anger came to her aid, anger at the vicious, brutal stupidity of the beasts before her. As the creatures came with their bloodstained weapons and coarse cries, the princess felt something within her rise to the challenge. She could hear Demon shouting, trying to pull her to the door, but it seemed almost irrelevant as she stared into the coming storm.

Two of the darknuts stumbled as their legs crashed through the floorboards into the cellar beneath. Roaring in frustration they struggled to free themselves and only succeeded in becoming more entrapped. The third pulled up short behind them and joined in voicing their anger, meaning that it was the moblins who reached the princess first.

Zelda heard Demon's words echo from her memory,_ Every stroke, every moment, you are trying to strike, to destroy the enemy._ She held her ground as the assassin sprinted from behind to twist the first moblins spear from his hands and break it across the creature's thick, porcine scalp. Four more spears menaced and he was immediately forced back as both halves of the shattered weapon moved in fluid, defensive arcs. He was attempting to hold the center aisle of the barn and keep any creature from reaching Zelda behind him, yet it was only a matter of moments before one of the creatures crowded around the edge of his range.

It approached her not with the point of its spear but poised and ready with its great, thick hands spread wide. It was the same pose that Zephros had employed when attempting to carry her away and the princess grit her teeth in defiance. Bile rose in her throat as the heavy stink of moblin washed over her, yet her will and her blade did not waver.

Lesson upon lesson in the gardens of Termina allowed her to recognize the feint when it came, and her sword lashed out before the creature could recover. She had aimed for the creatures face, but she struck its neck, and was both vindicated and horrified at how easily the steel bit through flesh. Stumbling backwards after withdrawing her sword, Zelda could almost supposed that nothing had happened, nothing damaged, but then the first arterial surge flew forth and the princess beheld the full significance of her action. The moblin clapped a hand to its neck and shrieked in pain, open terror in its dumb eyes, before it was pushed out of the way by those crowding up behind.

Zelda glanced down at her blade with renewed horror and only barely steeled herself against the urge to throw it away and flee in panic. Her opponents almost seemed to feel the same urge, for their weapons were already cast aside, yet they moved to grasp the princess and bear her down with strength alone.

Her world condensed to a relentless sequence of attack and defence as Zelda struck hands, arms, faces, and throats with all the ferocity she could muster. She kept her back to an empty stall so that only two could approach her at a time, and soon both she and the floorboards were slick with moblin blood. She saw nothing but the crowding, leering faces, felt nothing but the clutching fingers which grasped at her armor, and heard nothing but the perpetual chaos of battle.

Yet still she was forced back as the moblins surged forward in an attempt to close within the arc of her swing and steel her weapon. They crushed in, forcing her to greater effort and desperation for less result. The princess's form crumbled as her fear grew, and the moment before her capture was sure she twisted her head to find the assassin. Always before Demon had appeared in her hour of need, always before he had saved her. The princess realized suddenly, abruptly, painfully, that she did not want to die, did not want to be at the whim of the cruelty of Aratia.

What she saw horrified the foundations of her very soul, for as she turned she beheld the assassin dangling from the grip of the third darknut, his feet kicking the life from his body as the creature's hold crushed inward. In moments he would be dead and she would be captured, indeed she felt a hand wrap around her sword arm while another pulled the helm from her head. Whatever the assassin had said, whatever he had promised, this is how their journey would end...

Or at least how his journey would end. She would be carried away, she would be tortured and mocked, even as she wept for the man who had fought for her and for Hyrule as no one else she had ever known. She would live for a little longer, yet Demon would be dead, her friend gone. The Hero of Time would be only another corpse on the battlefield of her greatest failure.

_It shall not be_! a voice screamed in Zelda's head, _I will not allow it! _The grasping hands fell away, and suddenly the princess felt something, a glorious burning that she had not felt since before she'd fled Hyrule. She felt it and she knew, and with that knowledge came a laugh that echoed with impending retribution. The moblins surrounding her stumbled back into stalls or slipped on the viscous floor and cowered low. They squealed, terrified, as the harassed, vulnerable woman they had been tormenting became something else entirely.

The back of the princess's left hand flared. Her head spun. Somewhere a harsh voice sputtered manically, and farther away a small child sobbed. The burning increased, building, until it seemed to encompass Zelda's entire being.

"Link!" She screamed with every ounce of her ravaged soul, and then she let the power go.

Fire became ice. Ice became fire. Light itself seared the flesh from moblin bones and vaporized layers of wood in an instant. The word melted into a great roaring and a greater dazzling radiance,

And then it was over.

The barn was in ruins. Ash settled to the earth and the ringing departed from Zelda's ears. The air had been burnt clean of the reek of moblin blood, but she still smelled its taint upon herself where it mixed with the general filth of battle. Exhaustion returned like the weight of the world, and the princess bowed once again beneath it.

"Link!" she cried again and she stumbled forward over the fused earth that had been wood. Her foot collided with a limp arm clad in sizzling leather and she fell to her knees beside it. An inflamed, oxygen-starved face turned towards her, and the assassin tried to focus through blinded eyes.

When at last he could, when he saw his rescuer was Zelda and not some moblin survivor, he gave one of his rare half-smiles.

"The goddesses are good," he rasped, his charred hair still smoking.

The princess paused, staring into his tired eyes, then gently wrapped her arms around his battered form and pulled him to his feet. "The goddesses are good," she whispered.

They staggered together through the wreckage that had once been a barn, Zelda supporting the assassin's weight as best she could. Somewhere behind came the shouts and cries of the larger battle, and somewhere farther back a harsh voice was ordering others forward to replace the fallen in the farm. But for the moment the two were alone and unthreatened, the only survivors of the storm.

A dozen paces beyond the barn lay two dead mean, pierced by moblin weapons, beside four skittish horses tied to a fence. Demon laboriously mounted one, Zelda another, and then, drawn by the same magnet, they turned back to face the last stand of the Terminian army.

It was a sad remnant of the conflict which had begun that morning, perhaps a hundred men struggling against a few thousand monsters. The last rays of the setting sun touched upon swords and armor and painted them with liquid fire as it slowly slipped below the pale horizon. The last gasp of a struggle made pathetic by the singular fact that most of the figures in the field were strewn flat and unmoving upon the churned earth.

A horn blew and echoed across the grass in somber tones. Silent, Zelda and Demon watched eight men in black and silver line up behind a singular figure who waved his sword defiantly at the Aratian horde. He shouted something, words that could not be made out over the din of arms, and then charged forward at the head of his eight remaining guard.

There was a clash, several moblins fell never to rise again, and then the sortie was surrounded by a ring of stabbing spears that drew steadily closer as each man fell. Zelda turned away before it was over, but Demon watched to the end, a strange expression on his pale face.

The last man crumpled to the dark earth, one hand still feebly clutching a battered sword. As the hunt moves to finish the exhausted wolf in it's midst, so a dozen moblins surged forward and their spears went down, then up, then down again.

"Come," the assassin said as the last wan light slipped below the western edge of the world, "it is finished."

000

Author's Notes:

Well, I'm hoping that was a twist for most of you. I think that a good stories needs more than a climactic battle to signify the defeat of evil, and so in "Forgotten Demons" I long ago decided that the battle between Termina and Aratia was going to end badly for the Terminians. Tolkien is obviously a great influence of mine, and you'll notice that in his work, very few struggles are won through purely military means, and those that are tend to be hollow (pyrrhic) victories. The last alliance at the end of the Second Age is a shining example, since even though Gil-Galad and Elendil carry the day, they die and Sauron's ring isn't destroyed (which necessitates the entire LOTR trilogy).

This chapter also (obviously) ends Garret's presence in the piece, and I think we should take a moment to mourn our least favorite, devilishly handsome prince. I knew from the beginning he was going to die, but I laugh about it now, because of all the characters in this fic Garret is the closest personality to my own. That's not to say that I'm rich, good-looking, and popular with the ladies (:-), but instead that he has a certain confident, verbose belligerence that rings true with my own life. He has been one of the most enjoyable characters to write, and I hope you all picked up on that. In his own way he accomplished the glory he was after, unfortunately he sacrificed much to achieve it.

On a different note, I think the most potent question in the entire chapter is attributed to Zelda near the end when she asks Demon (for the second time) if the goddesses are real. I remember having to sit there, staring at my laptop for some time before I was able to answer that one, and even then I've changed the answer several times (Fun Fact: in the first draft he simply replied "I just do."). It's one of those questions that has surprising correlations to real life, even though Demon's answer is a little too melodramatic to be considered a serious response. There are going to be a number of serious theological discussions in this fic in the near future, and I'm hoping that a couple of them will transcend the fiction.

I'm also hoping that the conversation between Demon and Zelda at the end turned out believable. It's hard to write the princess when she's so emotionally distraught, and I really wanted to convey how much strength she truly has. I mean, the entire point of her Terminian excursion was to recruit an army, and she's just seen that army destroyed in front of her. For someone like the princess, who values every life lost, that is a deeply traumatic experience.

So, were you surprised by this turn of events? By Garret's death? What do you think will happen next? I'd love to hear your speculation.

As to the reviews...Thanks you all, I appreciate the encouragement.

-Celeborn00


	76. Chapter 74

This will be my last update in a while. I don't have time to write now that school is back in action, but I am proud of the fact that I got four chapters out over Christmas. That's an accomplishment. :-)

I was pleasantly surprised at the astute observations of several of you out in readerland after the last chapter. Madoju especially has obviously been reading closely, and was the only one to remember Alexander's prophecy in context.

And of course Garret was going to die! He's an Achilles after all. :-)

The next few chapter draw upon a number of threads from very early in this fic. Some of you may need to go back a little and refresh yourself, although that will make you realize just how painfully bad much of this fic is. If you have any questions feel free to PM me and I'll answer as best I can.

000

"Eternal peace is a dream, and not even a pleasant one."

-Moltke the Older

Chapter 74

Malon measured the handful of grain carefully, weighing the few kernels with inordinate care. She was wary of wasting it upon their two surviving chickens, not with the harvest uncertain and the granary almost exhausted, but then again she wasn't sure how long the ranch would last either. Depending upon the news from the next patrol she might just slaughter them in celebration…or mourning.

Frowning, she scattered her handful on the earth and watched the two birds come clucking to their meal. They were strong now, almost plump compared to the miserable creatures who had just survived the long winter, but in Malon's mind they would always be connected with the grueling want of that season. When the first ice arrived she'd had several dozen birds in her coop, by the time the last ice melted she'd had only two. It would be almost a shame to slaughter them now, even if they were only chickens after all.

The ranch maid dusted her hand on the coarse linen of her dress, grasped her lantern, and stood up carefully to avoid colliding with the low eaves of the barn. In the lingering heat of the evening the charred wood still gave off the stink of smoke, an unpleasant reminder of violence that Malon chose not to dwell upon. Instead she looked off towards the first stars in the east and listened to the crickets sing their summer songs, wondering how Ralph was coming with the potatoes and whether she should milk the cow immediately or wait until dawn.

A bell rang and the peaceful moment was shattered.

Malon started, her red braid, dark in the twilight, shuddering at her back. There was no second ring, yet even so visitors after nightfall were hardly expected and rarely welcomed. Her face hardened as she felt for the hilt of a knife through a hidden opening in her skirt and turned to hurry towards the gate. There might be deserters from one side or the other, and both equally as bad. Or maybe another orphan from the castle, one she could ill-afford to feed. She'd turned away so many, yet they kept coming…not that they could be blamed.

A red-cheeked Trent met her halfway with the signal bell still clutched forgotten in his hand. The child, the second of Malon's three orphans, positively danced as he grabbed her hand and pulled her back in the direction he had come.

"I didn't see 'em coming," he gasped, "if it wasn't for the horses I wouldn't been warned at all!"

"Who?" Malon pulled the boy to a halt. "Not soldiers?"

Trent frowned, insulted. "There weren't no second ring, Malon! I know the rules best of anybody!"

"Then who?" the woman asked, trying to dig in her heels against the boy's pulling.

Trent smiled, his face beaming with the joy of a hidden secret. "I can't tell, you must _see_! Come, come, fast n' faster!"

Thoroughly bemused, Malon let her charge lead her between the ranch wall and the burned out hulk of the old farmhouse to the great arch and the flimsy gate which spanned it. The ruins of the old house dwarfed the unlovely addition which had been made to the barn, largely with wood scavenged from the ruin. For its part, the path was well trodden, yet bore none of the marks of the horses which had once given Lon Lon its fame.

Then they reached the gate, and Malon simply stopped.

She stared at the mounted, armored figure on the other side of the gate and her face turned as white as her hair was red.

"Zelda Harkinian," she said in awe, " it cannot be."

"Yet it is," Zelda replied as she dismounted wearily to the grass. "Hello, Malon."

"I heard you were dead," the ranch maid started as she unlocked the gate. Her words became faster, running together as she spoke. "Actually, I heard you were dead, then alive, then dead, then alive, then dead. Then I heard you'd ran off with a handsome foreign prince and that the winter ended the first time he kissed you!"

Zelda's face twisted slightly at the mention of the prince, yet she still embraced Malon with appreciable vigor when the woman approached. Her chin met Malon's shoulder with a solidness that finally convinced her of her friend's presence. "I'm alive," the princess said, "everything else was a lie."

"Alive," Malon repeated and drew back so Zelda could see the profound joy on her face. "Goddesses, Zelda, I hardly know what to say! Where did you come from? What a story you must have!" Yet her eyes danced towards the burgeoning darkness before Zelda could answer, and anxiety clouded them. "But inside," she continued softly, "inside where you cannot be seen. I can hardly describe the danger, Zelda! It is madness for you to be here!"

Yet the princess extricated her hand from Malon's grip and stayed firmly outside the gate. She searched her friend's green eyes with trepidation, trying to choose her words.

"I'm not alone," she admitted, and Malon jerked as another horse whickered from near the wall. She turned, her face already anticipating what her gaze had not seen, and cried out at Demon's shadowed form. He was slumped, nearly falling, and her voice raised no response.

"It is a happiness unlooked for to find you here, Malon," Zelda began, "yet we came only because we are desperate for shelter. I-"

"So this is he, princess?" Malon snapped and one hand slipped to her skirt. "This is the one who murdered Nathan?"

Zelda uttered a command and her horse moved between Malon and the assassin. Demon had not moved, indeed he hardly seemed to be aware that Zelda was in conversation. "This is not the man," she said, "or it is the same face, but not the same soul. Nathan's murderer is dead."

"There was another rumour," Malon accused in an ugly voice, "a rumour that you had given yourself to a murderer with a honeyed tongue." She retreated a step even as she used her slim forearm to force Trent back into the ranch.

"Malon," Zelda pled with sob that caused the woman to pause in spite of herself. "The Aratians are searching for us towards the mountains, yet the net is tightening. By morning, this man will be unable to ride, and they will find us easily upon the field. I beg you!"

The ranch maid peered at her friend as terrible emotions struggled across her features. She gripped Trent's coat with a fierceness that made the poor boy squirm, evidence of the surprising strength in her sun-browned arms. Slowly, at first almost imperceptibly, she removed her other hand from the hilt buried in her skirt.

"If I told you to leave him, to give his horse a slap and let it wander where it would…" she suggested.

"I could not," Zelda refused without hesitation. She walked forward and leaned up to grab Demon's reigns from his slumped form. "Goddesses, Malon, he almost died a dozen times today defending me from the Aratians!"

Malon winced, and the princess saw a familiar pity spring to her emerald eyes. Almost persuaded, yet clinging to her long-remembered hatred, she struggled between the two forces.

"He must leave his weapons outside," she ordered.

"He is unarmed," Zelda replied, and realized that she was as well, having lost her sword while unleashing the power of the Triforce. She looked to the empty scabbard at her waist, and was surprised to feel unease at the loss.

Malon's lips tightened. "He will stay in the barn," she decided finally, "and I wish to neither see him nor hear him. You are my friend and my princess, Zelda, but you cannot ask for more."

"Thank you," The gratitude was obvious in Zelda's strained voice. "You are the only blessing in a cursed day, Malon. I had almost given up hope…"

The princess swayed and the creak of her armor sounded forbidding in the darkness. Grasping Demon's mount more for her own steadiness then anything else, she managed to find her balance.

The ranch maid studied her friend with renewed concern. Zelda watched her look out into the night, blind to any watching eyes, and turn herself to the urgent task of getting the two refugees out of sight as fast as possible. The relief renewed the princess's dizziness, but this time Malon intervened.

"Help the princess, Trent," she began, all business as she grabbed the bridles of both horses. Behind her the orphan grunted as Zelda leaned upon him, but both paused to watch Malon with the animals she knew best.

"You're both very handsome," the woman soothed the two beasts, "and I do wish I could keep you. But we can't have two such beautiful gentleman appearing in my stable without explanation, can we?"

The pale ear of Zelda's mount twitched as Malon leaned towards it and whispered a series of flowing syllables. Carefully she pulled the beast around until it faced west towards Death Mountain, then uttered a sharp command which sent it trotting off into the shadow.

All three Hylians watched the horse go with a mixture of acceptance and regret. They knew what awaited it out on the field, but were equally aware of the necessity of its departure. They watched until it was only a grey blur, a fluff of cotton on the surface of the deep, until Malon turned back to her two companions.

"We'll need this one," she patted the remaining mount, "to carry his burden up to the barn, then I'll loose him as well. Like as not there will be soldiers by in the morning."

"Then you will hide us," Zelda ventured.

"I'll hide you, of course," the ranch maid said, "your friend will sit lighter on my conscience."

Demon stirred, his pale blood-stained face turning towards the sound of voices until he was staring at his rescuer. Sunken eyes squinted at the unfamiliar face until her features jumped in recognition. "You lost my horse, didn't you?" he accused in a laboured whisper.

"Your horse?" Malon replied warily. "You're sitting on your horse!"

But Demon's head had dropped once more to loll against the neck of his mount. Malon looked warily to Zelda, who shrugged. The ranch maid stared at her a moment longer, then began to lead them both through the gate and into the ranch.

000

"Wind and fire!" Malon exclaimed. "You sure he'll survive till morning?"

Zelda paused in the act of cutting away Demon's soiled shirt, careful not to raise her head into the bottom of the low ceiling. Instead she turned gingerly upon the straw and lifted a cloth and basin from the first stair of the hidden cellar. The water sloshed and steamed in the bowl as she tried awkwardly to keep it steady but the cramped space and the darkness mocked her effort.

"He'll survive," she replied, studying a crusted, brown line across the meat of the assassin's shoulder.

"But there's so much blood," Malon wondered, a note of ill-concealed hope evident in her words. She was sitting at the top of the four stairs that allowed descent to Zelda's position, intimidated by Demon's presence yet unwilling to leave her friend. The wood upon which she sat had been almost untouched by the fire which had consumed much of the barn, yet the cellar beneath was rife with ash trickled down from the main floor.

It wasn't an ideal spot for keeping an injured man but it was easily concealed from the prying eyes of Aratian soldiers.

"Most of the blood isn't his," Zelda said bluntly, "besides, I've seen him survive far worse."

The princess could not see the strange look her friend sent her, nor the way Malon shivered as she drew her knees up underneath her chin. "You've fought together often?" the woman asked.

Demon shifted, muttering, and Zelda cursed as the combination of her ministrations and his movement brought fresh blood to a wound. "Not often," she said, "but enough. I got him stabbed in Kakariko. That was a lot of blood."

"I don't have the right herbs," Malon said suddenly, "for the pain or for infection. The prices at the alchemists in Castletown are ten times what they were before the winter. I couldn't afford them, not without the livestock."

Silently, Zelda reviewed the story her friend had told her about the torching of the ranch by Aratian troops in the first days of the blizzard, the death of her father Talon, and Malon's escape into the storm. The princess had seen the charred remains of the farm house as she'd entered the ranch, and suddenly her mind spun with questions she feared to ask. For a moment she decided that she could suffer no more despair in one day, but her fear could not be denied.

Zelda wrung out the rag over the straw and dipped it once more into the basin. She did not remove it but instead remained hunched over the rough earthenware. "What have the Aratians done to Castletown," she breathed. "What has become of my city?"

A shadow passed over Malon's face. "You have been gone a long time, princess. It's not your city any more."

"I had no choice." Zelda said, and her jerking movement splashed water from the bowl.

The ranch maid was silent, and for a long time only the sound of Zelda's work could be heard. It was only once the princess had determined that Demon's main ailment was exhaustion rather than a wound that she turned back to her friend.

"I needed an army," she said, "I had to leave Hyrule."

"Doesn't seem like the army helped much," Malon said, blunt as ever.

The princess stiffened, raw pain coursing through her. She had told her friend about the disaster of the Terminian defeat but she hadn't expected such callousness. Hot words sprang to her lips, but she refused to let them out.

"A lot of people in Castletown were depending upon that army," Malon muttered, and suddenly Zelda perceived that her friend had spoken in worry, not malice. "'When the princess returns' they said. They hoped…"

Both women flinched as Demon stirred. His fingers twitched spasmodically, and muscles rippled across his bare abdomen. "Where's my bloody horse?" he hissed, and collapsed back into the straw.

"Why do you bloody care?" Malon fired back without a moment's hesitation. She continued to stare at the assassin warily even after Zelda had turned back to face her.

The princess's eyes hardened. "The Aratians are weakened," she said, "perhaps weak enough that-"

Shaking her head wearily, the ranch maid cut Zelda off. "Forgive me, princess, but you have not seen the suffering your people have endured. There's not much fight left in them, even if they did have weapons."

"But the guard!" Zelda objected.

"The guard are dead," said Malon, "or fled too far for your purpose. This is a dying land, maybe dead after today. The Terminians were…" She shivered rather than finish her sentence.

"I won't give up." Zelda crossed her arms over her chest.

Malon sighed and grabbed her braid in one pale hand. "Forgive me again princess, but you were not here during the long winter. My father is dead, my horses are gone, I am alone. We who are left are simply trying to stay alive."

"So am I, Malon," Zelda replied, "can you not tell? There is no life for us while the Aratian king remains!"

"And there's no life for Trent, Ralph, and Lyra without me here." Rising to her feet, the ranch maid brushed the ash from her skirt, and gave one last perturbed glance to the unconscious assassin.

Zelda made to rise as well, only catching herself at the last minute. Gingerly she placed a hand against the floorboard above and clambered to the foot of the stairs. Behind her the assassin stirred and she paused to ensure that the pitcher of water, lamp, and chunk of bread sat undisturbed at his bedside.

"I hate leaving him like this," she said as she ascended the stairs, "it feels like a betrayal."

"He's not allowed in the house." Malon strained against the heavy trapdoor, then lowered it carefully into place. "He's already closer than he should be." She straightened and concern clouded her eyes. "You need food, princess, and then sleep. You'll be falling over soon if we don't do something."

Zelda yawned, fatigue rushing over her as soon as it was mentioned. "You used to offer a bath as well," she muttered, "Lon Lon hospitality isn't what it was."

Malon snorted. "Of course princess. Hot water, almond cake, and then a big, fluffy featherbed. How could I have forgotten?" She steadied Zelda with a gentle touch that belied the roughness in her voice. "I'll let you sleep on my mattress. It has fewer lice than any of the others."

"I'm grateful," Zelda sighed, "but I smell so horrid I don't think lice will be a problem."

The two women drifted from the barn, the lamplight departing with them. Above them the moon sailed toward the horizon, and behind the darkness embraced their path. Beneath the floorboards Demon tossed and turned, dreaming of battles unfought and hosts unvanquished. Another man might have succumbed to infection, exhaustion ... perhaps despair. Demon slept, and dreamed of blood.

000

The body yelped as a boot connected with its midriff, then rolled to snuggle closer to the moblin corpse which lay beside it. Leon grimaced as he watched the soldier bury his face in a moblin armpit, and pulled back his foot for another strike.

"Snap out of it, soldier!" he growled, "you're consorting with the enemy!"

Something burbled past the vocal chords of the fallen man, but most of it was absorbed into the juicy flesh of the monster beside him. Shifting again, he drew the corpse's arm over his shoulder, looking, for all the world, as if he were lost in a moblin embrace.

Leon sighed.

A howl echoed in the darkness and Leon threw himself down beside the entwined combatants. His eyes searched the night unceasingly, yet it hid all from his sight. The shadowed mounds of the fallen stretched across the field, some groaning, some still, yet the howl had not been human…and it had been close.

"Look, mate," Leon began in a conversational whisper, "I'm sorry I kicked you, I really am. The world is a hard, cruel place, more so than usual, but I swear it's still better than a moblin's pit."

After a moment's hesitation the captain drew the moblin's arm over himself as well, and pressed back against his fallen comrade. "Garret's dead," his whispered, "he must be. I think I fell from my horse and knocked myself out, at least I don't remember much. If they searched for survivors we would be dead as well, but they didn't. Why?"

The other soldier mumbled something again, still too muffled to make sense.

Cursing, Leon grabbed the man's face and pulled it away from its harbor. "Breath the free air again! Or at least don't poison yourself," the captain ordered.

The soldier groaned loudly, causing Leon to curse once more. He pressed a hand over his comrade's mouth in a motion that seemed to contradict his order, yet he could not withdraw the sound from the night.

This time a chorus of howls echoed over the field, and Leon could just make out dark shapes slinking between the macabre piles. Red eyes stared back him, a dozen wolfos at least, and Leon knew there was no more use in hiding.

"Well Garret," he muttered as he clambered to his feet, "it looks like maybe I can keep some honour after all." Letting his eyes slide back down to the fallen soldier at his feet, he gave the man one final nudge. "Up soldier! You don't want to die cuddling a moblin!" Yet the man didn't move, and so Leon's sword was alone in the dark.

Alone. That was the appropriate word, Leon knew, although it had felt so alien earlier in the day when marching among thousands of comrades. Garret was gone, dead Leon was sure, although he hadn't found the body. Russ he had found, punctured by a dozen weapons and barely recognizable under the stain of his own blood. The only man he had found in hopeful condition was this new recruit, Omar, and he was refusing to return to ugly reality.

The wolfos slowed, spreading out around their prey with dark purpose. Leon crouched, his training telling him to use his peripherals and watch the enemy in front for cues, yet his frustration made it hard to care about his training. He never should have revealed his position, never should have tried to save this idiot beside him.

A sound at his back made him whirl, yet his sword hit only air instead of flesh. Indeed the wolves themselves had turned and were staring off into the shadow, staring at three shapes rising from among the slain.

Never one to miss an opportunity, Leon lunged forward and hamstrung the nearest of his attackers. He spun again as the creature collapsed, yipping to the ground, and then continued to turn in a slow circle.

"Away with you!" one of the shapes cried, "go back to your master!"

As if in perfect obedience the wolves melted back, disappearing into the night.

Leon grunted, and wiped his nose with the back of a gauntleted hand. _No alone after all, I guess._ Another near miss, another inexplicable prolongation of his useless life. _I'm doing pretty well for a man who only rolls snake eyes_, he thought.

He turned and saw his rescuers slow as they approached, acting more wary then Leon could understand until he made out the foreign shape of their mail and the strange length of their weapons. One man, the last, was limping and using his spear simply as support.

Leon stared as they halted in front of him just as dirty as he, yet still the enemy. Suddenly he choked back laughter and sheathed his sword in a vicious movement that belied his mirth.

"Thanks for saving my life, you Aratian dogs," he said, and then stomped on the skull of the wounded wolfos before him in a single vicious movement that ended its story forever.

000

Author's Notes: Plot chapter really, but after the last two what do you expect? I don't have much to say about this one except that Demon really does seem to miss Epona. Sometimes characters say things you don't expect them to, that was one of those times.


	77. Chapter 75

So I'm back with this monstrosity of a chapter. Kudos to Zephros and The Wolfess for editing, commentary, and general help. School is done for the summer, and I'm moving to a different province in a week to take a job with an organization/magazine as a communications person/writer. I'm going to get paid and I'm going to be out of my parent's basement, both very good things. :-)

As for this chapter, this is truly the beginning of the end (not, as Churchill once said, "the end of the beginning"). I'll warn you that many of the chapters will get shorter from this point onward as things progress towards a conclusion. I'll also warn you that the violence in this story has been steadily increasing and it will be difficult to read before the end (in more ways than one). As the reader, all you can so (as the Conte himself once said) is "Wait and Hope". Don't give up because you don't know how it will all end.

Anyway, we will see how much time I get to work on this in the coming months. In some ways I'm almost scared to finish this story. When you live with characters in a world for long, it's weird to think that one day you will simply put down the pen and walk away.

-Celeborn00

000

Chapter 75

Char disintegrated between Demon's fingers as his hands groped for the hilts of non-existent weapons. The dim light filtering between wooden floorboards taught him little about his location, and for a moment the assassin had no memory of where he was. Then a flash of red hair surfaced, a fogged dream, and he was able to relax enough to study his surroundings.

Injuries aching, he rolled on his front and levered himself to his knees, careful to keep his head from the rough ceiling of his cell. _Water,_ he though_,_ and before the thought was completed he was raising the pitcher to his lips and drinking in large, choking gulps.

_Bread,_ his stomach urged when he finally relinquished the vessel, and there before him was half a loaf of barley-bread, partially coated in the char disturbed by his movement. He reached for it, noting the extinguished lamp beyond, and was soon engaged in the second act of his simple breakfast.

_Lon Lon, _he thought_, I am somewhere in Lon Lon._ He stretched carefully against the inflammation of his wounds and the latent stiffness of a night on the hard ground. _It's a miracle Malon didn't cut my throat. Goddesses!_

A door opened above him and Demon froze. Morning light streamed laterally across and through the charred floor and military boots too heavy for any princess or ranch girl stomped between the empty stalls. Two pairs. One stopping just inside the entrance and one almost right above the assassin's position. Demon could feel disturbed particles raining down on his head, and he pinched his nose to prevent any chance of a sneeze.

"I'm going to open this trapdoor," a voice said, thickly Aratian in origin. "Let me explain to you why you're not going to kill me when I do."

_Bluff_, the assassin decided. One hand curled around a handful of char, the other reached for the earthenware pitcher. What were the Aratians doing in Lon Lon already? What ill luck had brought them so quickly?

"We have the princess," the voice continued, "any attempt to escape or attack me and the soldier at the door will warn the others to cut her throat. Show some wisdom, Butcher."

There was the sound of fumbling above the stairs at the end of Demon's cell, and then a thin crack of light appeared as the trap was raised. Two Aratian boots, shined to military precision, were all that could be seen of the man behind the voice.

"Do you understand me?"

Demon's eyes narrowed as he steeled his aching body for sudden movement. "You can't kill her," he growled, and was satisfied by the sight of both boots hopping back as the trap slammed shut. "You need her alive."

"Ah, very clever, Butcher. You're right. But simply because we need her alive doesn't mean we need her _intact_. So let me explain myself more clearly."

The fumbling sounds came again, this time understood as the Aratian reaching for the hidden latch on the trapdoor. His accent garbled several of his words, yet Demon's time in the Aratian arenas left him no difficulty in deciphering them.

"If you struggle, if you resist at all, my men will gouge out those beautiful blue eyes and Harkinian will spend the rest of her royal existence as a freak. Do you understand me?"

Demon hissed, his eyes filled with sudden hatred. "And then I will do the same to you and your men! I will make you beg for death!"

The Aratian sighed, the sound surprisingly audible through the floorboards. "We will die anyway if we fail to return to Castletown with the princess. You've met the king," grim humor pervaded his tone, "you understand his methods."

"Your king is trying to destroy the world," Demon replied bluntly, "only the princess stands in his way."

The trap opened again, this time up until it overbalanced and slammed to ground. A cascade of dust engulfed Demon even as he squinted against the sudden light into the face of his enemy.

He was middle-aged lieutenant with classic Aratian features, gaunt in the way that all good soldiers were gaunt, and with eyes hollowed by atrocity. The state of his armor told the assassin the man had fought in the previous day's battle, and his face said that he had not slept during the long night afterward.

"The fox always whispers to the hounds when he's caught in the net," the lieutenant said. "You may call me Jest, or Sir Jest if you prefer. Put these on, then come out." He tossed a pair of iron leg shackles into the cellar, raising another unwelcome cloud of ash.

Reluctantly, Demon crawled to the irons and pulled them from the dirty floor. He had little choice in the matter if Jest's words were true, and he knew too little about his situation to doubt. "I almost got him yesterday," the assassin grunted as he closed the first cuff around his leg, "if only one of you bastards would have had the balls to finish him."

The soldier laughed, sharp and short. "And I almost got you in Aratia, but Arawn ordered a bolt through your shoulder instead of one in your heart."

"You will regret that mistake," was Demon's reply. Second cuff closed, he began to shuffle his way forward to the stairs. Jest simply waited, stepping back as Demon ascended into the barn.

The second soldier, framed in the door, watched intently as his lieutenant pulled the assassin's arms behind his back and encased them in a second set. When he'd checked to make sure both sets of restraints were secure, he put a firm hand on Demon's shoulder and began guiding the shorter man across the barn.

"I saw you fight four men once, back before you got involved with Harkinian. I tried to talk the pit master into having you teach a class of my veterans some of your tricks, but he said you'd have as probably killed them as taught them." The lieutenant snorted. "All that talent wasted on one stupid blonde who doesn't know when she's beaten."

"Someday," Demon said, "you might understand."

The soldier grinned. "Oh I understand alright. Why else do you think I'm still serving that ball of slime you knifed yesterday? No hard feelings, but I've got a wife and kids to think of."

Demon stumbled only once as he shuffled across the lintel and out of the barn. Six soldiers awaited in the yard with the glittering steel of drawn weapons, the glare playing havoc with the assassin's vision. None outranked Jest, and two wore the dark armor of scouts complete with the boiled leather cap.

"Where's the princess?" the assassin demanded as cold realization swept through him.

A blade was at his throat instantly, and a harsh order from Jest compelled two of the men to either side of the assassin. "According to you she's nearby," the lieutenant said, "isn't that right, Malon?"

Demon's eyes widened as the redhead stepped from the new addition beside the barn and into the warm summer sun. Her hair was as vibrant as it had ever been, but her green eyes were as cold as a glacial stream as she surveyed the prisoner before her. "She was never here," Malon began, "the Butcher said they were separated during the flight from the battle. He was going to search for her in the morning. That-"

"You've survived a long time for being such a poor liar," Jest interrupted her. "You realize you have an unwinnable hand, wench. If you don't talk, I play with one of your orphans until you do. Or I just kill you and tear this ranch apart. Or..."

He paused, the wheels in his mind turning in calculation. "Harkinian!" he yelled, shouting in the direction of the building Malon had vacated. "I have the Butcher! He came willingly because I told him my men were about to gouge out your eyes!"

Demon shifted despite the knife at his throat. His wrists chafed against the coarse iron, and he could already feel bruises forming around his ankles. On either side Jest's men grabbed his arms and braced for resistance, while the other two forcibly backed Malon against a wall. She cried out and a hand went to her skirt, but within moments she was in irons as well, helplessly fuming against the injustice of her captivity.

"How would you like me to cripple your Butcher?" Jest continued. "Take his nose, his ears, perhaps his eyes as well? When we find you, and we will find you, how would you like to see your heroic protector as a bloody, helpless mess?"

The lieutenant pressed his blade deeper into Demon's throat and smiled in satisfaction as a red line welled beneath his attention. "Shout for me, will you?" he coaxed, "let her know that this time I'm not bluffing."

"You are bluffing," Demon breathed, "you have too much honour for this work."

Jest chuckled, once, but the knife disappeared. He strode forward, almost to the door, and studied the interior. "You know he won't beg or scream, Harkinian! You know this man would die for you! Are you willing to condemn him to hideous blindness for the sake of a few moments of freedom?"

They waited in silence, Jest pacing a few steps back and forth across the weeds and packed dirt. The men behind him exchanged glances, but none of them attempted to break the impasse.

"I'd rather you just cut his throat," Malon said finally. "Not torture him." She'd glared at her captors until they'd allowed her to stand unaided, yet her shoulders still bent forward under the pull of the iron at her wrists.

Jest shrugged, studying the woman curiously. "Normally you beg me to treat them gently. Is the Butcher so infamous, even in Hyrule, that you would wish him dead?"

Malon's eyes flashed. "He murdered the man I would have married."

Demon knew it was true, yet he was shocked by the ranch-maid's betrayal. _Normally you beg me to treat them gently_, Jest had said, and the assassin wondered how many other refugees Malon had handed over to the Aratians. It explained how she had been able to rebuild Lon Lon and inhabit it during the dangerous isolation of the long winter, but not how her defiant spirit had been broken. Of course the Aratians would know the princess and he were together! How had Malon thought she could betray one without revealing the other?

"The princess was never here," the red-haired woman repeated, her hands curling into fists beneath her iron restraints.

Jest ignored her. "This is your last chance, Harkinian!" he shouted. "This man loves you, it's obvious in his face. Will you save his life?"

For a moment silence reined, a hesitation wavering on the scales of fate. Demon's thoughts drifted away as he wondered how quickly he could break one of his thumbs and slip his cuffs. The other option, letting Jest slice off his features, was hardly appealing.

Several loud blows sounded consecutively from within the addition and culminated in the crack of splintering timber. Malon slumped, defeated, and Jest grinned in victory. He stepped away from the door and let his glance tell Demon's guards to tighten their hold. His hands clutched the scabbard at his side with practiced readiness as the thump of hasty steps marked a journey through the ramshackle structure towards the entrance.

"Stop!" the shout came, "Enough, I'm coming!" Then Zelda herself appeared, clad only her shift and gripping a heavy kitchen knife in a white-knuckled grip. Her matted hair was wavy with the remnants of a braid, and her eyes were wild. Demon, Malon, Jest, and his men just stared, even as Zelda advanced on the lieutenant.

She'd checked instantly, making sure that her companion's face was unmarred, and now her attention was solely on Jest. "He would have killed all of you," she spat, "so you hid behind a woman! Just as yesterday you hid behind your tyrant and his pet monsters! What sort of men are you to obey such madness, to help in this evil?"

Jest's sword was free, moving to parry the knife if the princess struck. His two remaining men advanced to flank him as they unsheathed their own weapons. Zelda, seemingly unashamed of her state of undress, held her ground.

"I've seen enough of the arenas to know attacking the Butcher was suicide," Jest said. There was a mildness in his tone, almost a gentleness, which was out of place amidst the bared steel. "I don't fight battles I can win by other means."

The princess grimaced and tossed the knife to the side. "Why didn't you warn me, Malon?" she said to her friend, "if I had known-"

"The ranch girl's helped me round up fugitives all winter," Jest corrected. "Did you think you were the first?"

Eyes wide, Zelda spun to face her friend. The blood rushed from her face, even her hair seemed to pale. "But you're Hylian," the princess whispered, "how _could you_?"

Malon turned a dark, contrasting red, and she wrenched against the shackles. "Leave her," she begged Jest, "you're the best man around in these bad times. She doesn't deserve that devil in Castletown!"

"That would cost my men and I our lives." The lieutenant sheathed his weapon with a severity that seemed to be the last word on the matter. He scratched his temple with a glance towards the gate, then seemed to come to a decision.

"You two get her dressed," he gestured the two men at his side towards Zelda. "Touch her and I'll have your hands," he added with a grimace after noting the way his soldier's eyes trailed down the princess's slim form. "She is a Harkinian after all."

Turning to Demon, he studied the asassin's abused, shirtless torso. "Some of those look half-healed," he marveled, then raised his gaze to Demon's eyes. "Don't struggle and she won't be harmed," he promised. "You're lucky you didn't meet up with Rake's or Sturm's platoon in the night, they would have broken her long before morning."

"And this one?" called the uglier of the two soldiers guarding Malon.

"Tie her to a post in the corral," Jest decided, "one of her orphans will free her after we're gone. And keep your hands off, same rules as with Harkinian."

"But," the man began, but suddenly Malon was twisting violently away from her captors and throwing herself towards Jest.

"You promised me my father!" she cried as she fell to her knees before the lieutenant. "You promised if I ever took someone important..."

The pity in Jest's eyes was unmistakable as he took the girl gently by the shoulders and raised her to her feet. Malon's wrists were bleeding where the roughness of the iron had shredded her skin, yet the Aratian ignored the blood as he grasped her hands.

"Your father is dead," he said in his thick, brutal accent. "He died trying to rescue you a fortnight after Lon Lon was burned. He was fed to the darknuts." His hands clenched as the ranch-maid struggled, trying to claw him, batter him, beat him, anything at all. "You have been trying to free a ghost," he finished.

"You _bastard_," Malon hissed, and there was enough green-eyed venom in those two words to stop a man's heart. Yet Jest merely nodded, and let his two men catch ahold of the girl once again.

"I am a man of infinite jest and little wit," the lieutenant admitted softly, "and a bastard nonetheless." He rubbed his temple again, fingers sifting through the salt-and-pepper of his coarse hair. "But my family are _still alive_."

000

"We've got about three score Hylian foot we're holding as prisoners," the soldier explained as he led Leon through the bustling camp. "Some, the ones who ran and were captured by the sentry cordon, aren't even injured."

"Cowards," Leon replied contemptuously, but his heart wasn't really in it. So many of his comrades had died that to discover the survival of any, even those who had run away, was a blessing.

"Most have reconsidered and are now spoiling for a fight, which is why we have to keep them under guard. You're the first two captains we've captured, and therefore the only two who can convince them that we are no longer the enemy." Ducking into a tent, the soldier turned to lift the flap for the two men carrying Omar's stretcher, his soiled gauntlets staining the canvas.

"And why are you no longer the enemy?" Leon asked, again. The men who'd saved him from a wolfos gullet had given him pieces of the puzzle, but their story was hardly believable. The Aratians were the most blood-thirsty race on the continent, why would they falter now when victory seemed certain?

The Aratian's eyes hardened, shadows growing on his stubble-clad face. "Because the two hundred in this encampment are the ones who are scared," he said, "we see no future for our people, for our families, under our king. Some of us deserted from the force that was sent to quell unrest in Aratia, some from those who fought in yesterday's battle."

"And the king simply let you leave?" Unbelief was obvious in Leon's voice.

The soldier shrugged. "Officially this is one of three camps for the recuperation of casualties. The deserters trickled in out of the hills last night and we're using the chance to obtain as many weapons and supplies as possible. Some of the generals suspect, but their position is too unstable to risk losing more men in a direct confrontation." He pulled a report from a chair and frowned down at it for a few moments. "And the king is too distracted by the search to bother us for now."

"What search," Leon asked, suddenly alert. "Did Garret..." he paused, too fearful to voice the rest of his question.

"Garret's dead," the Aratian assured him. "But the princess escaped with the Butcher."

Leon winced, the explicit knowledge of his prince's death hitting him like a spear to the gut. "We should have listened to the Lord Demon! He assured us that open battle would end in disaster."

The sound of men marching interrupted the conversation, punctuated by the distant screams of some unhappy surgery. Inside the tent, the Aratian poured both himself and Leon a glass of wine from a bottle on a low table. A fly buzzed at the top of the tent, bouncing up the stretch of canvas, but both men ignored it.

"The king has been weakened," the soldier said, sipping wine. "Weakened enough that our few here could possibly hold Castletown against him."

"And what purpose would that serve?" asked Leon bitterly, "more moblins come from the mountains every day. He would overrun us within weeks."

The Aratian leaned closer as his dark eyes studied the captain. "It is said that the princess knew of a weapon in Castletown, something that could defeat the king."

"If she did, I never heard of it," Leon hedged. "I thought the princess and the Lord Demon were weapons themselves against evil, or something of the sort. You should find them rather than wasting your strength in Castletown."

"The _Lord,_" the man's lips curled at the word, "Demon is the last man on the continent I ever wished to see again."

The tent flap rustled and both men turned as the intruder called out "Captain!"

The newcomer, stinking of horse and sweat, allowed his eyes to flash to Leon's Terminian armor and hesitated.

"Speak," the Aratian said from behind Leon, "we must find allies where we can in these times."

The man came to attention and clasped his hands behind his back. "Harkinian has been captured by Jest at Lon Lon. The red-head betrayed her and she and the Butcher are being taken to Castletown."

His captain cursed. "You know this for certain?"

"I saw it myself, and Jest confirmed."

"If any man be smart enough to capture them, it would be Jest," the captain murmured. "And if any man be dumb enough to turn them over to the king, it would be Jest."

"Were they hurt?" Leon asked with sudden intensity.

"Unlike many, Jest would not mistreat them," the captain replied.

The scout shifted. "I do not know," he said, "they looked lively enough."

Leon twisted back to face the captain, his tired eyes glinting with some inner humour. "Well it seems we have a compromise," he began. "Why don't we take Castletown and rescue the princess?"

Above them, the fly buzzed again as it was drawn to the tantalizing odors of horse and man. The captain's eyes glanced to it even as he downed the rest of his wine.

"With the princess captured the king will consolidate all his forces in the city," he said. "It is a battle we cannot win."

Leon grinned. "That's what we Terminians said in Kakoriko," he bluffed, "and look how that turned out!"

Puzzled, the Aratian captain stared, then gave a sudden harsh choke of laughter. Behind Leon, the scout shook his head, then narrowed his eyes.

When the spires of Hyrule Castle first appeared above the heat-soaked line of the horizon, Zelda felt tears brim in her eyes, yet they did not fall, and the wind quickly stole the excess moisture. It was for the best. She could not have wiped the tears away with her hands tied behind her back, and she did not want the Aratians to see her cry.

I have gone full circle, she realized, full cycle. I fled my home to struggle, to fight, to journey and to hope; I am returning to die.

The wind swept through the princess's unbound hair, blowing it into her eyes and mouth each time the painful jolt of riding bowed her head. Glancing sideways to where the assassin lay helpless in a litter tied between two horses, she wondered how his shackled limbs had taken the journey. Both of them had suffered abuse upon abuse in the last two days, tragedy upon tragedy.

And Malon...

Zelda couldn't bear to think about the woman that had betrayed them. Instead she looked at the gleaming spires of her home, the location of what almost seemed a previous life. It felt so long ago, so bleached of any real importance. What had she really accomplished in playing ruler in the heights of her castle, in wearing pretty things and flirting with a foolish noble? Every memory was infected with the bitterness of her present circumstance, every happy beginning marred by a sad conclusion.

_If only my father could see me now_, she thought, _if he knew what I have let his kingdom come to he would disown me._ And why not? She had failed at every measure the expectation of a ruler, and thousands had died because of it. It was only right that her turn came next. Zelda bit her lip until blood seeped from the open wound. She welcomed the pain.

000

Jest signaled a halt just outside the city gates, stopping only long enough to gag his prisoners and place hoods over their bowed heads. "It's for your own good," he explained, and neither Zelda nor Demon bothered to ask him what that meant.

The rest of the journey was simply the clopping of hooves on cobblestones and the squeak of occasional hinges. The city smelled of ancient smoke, the hoods of wet oats, and little else could be discerned beyond those two. Occasionally Zelda would hear the echo of other hooves or boots advancing upon them and then fading away, but no one seemed to stop, even to remark upon the strange presence of two prisoners amongst Jest and his soldiers. The princess would have given five years of her life to see her city, and yet she feared the sight might have taken five more in the sorrow it would cause. Her heart lifted only once: when the great bell over the Temple of Time tolled out a single peal, a single note of resistance against the encroaching dark.

Eventually the cobble changed to paving stones, and the princess knew they had entered the castle courtyard. Here she was pulled from her horse and led through a doorway into a cool passage. The arm kept tugging, and so she progressed through several other corridors, down two sets of stairs, and through an open space that she could not accurately name. Once she would have sworn she'd known every passage in the castle, but instantly Zelda found herself at a loss.

A sudden fear struck her on the third set of stairs, and the princess pulled back against her captor's insistence. "Demon?" she asked softly, squinting uselessly against the hood. "Demon?"

"Right behind you, princess," his rough voice was as welcome as the earlier bell.

None of the Aratians commented, and the journey continued.

The passages darkened and the air staled as they progressed lower into the bowels of the castle. _I'm being taken to my own dungeon_, Zelda realized, and the thought provided her with a small amusement. It made a perverse sort of sense, and it meant, to her great relief, that she was to be granted a reprieve before her audience with the king of Aratia.

Then the hood was whipped from her gaze, and she squinted against the bright lanterns of her guards and the lamps ensconced in dirty plaster. She had been right, she was to be imprisoned in one of her own cells, and yet she was almost eager to have a sturdy wooden door between herself and the tragedies of the present world.

"Here you are," Jest said as he unlocked the thick, metal-strapped door, "not as comfortable as your former quarters upstairs I suspect, but better than where I found you this morning."

He stepped through into the dark cell beyond, and waited for Demon and Zelda to be escorted in behind. He guided the assassin to a series of shackles hanging from one wall, and began to efficiently transfer his bonds.

"The king infused the metal with his own dark magic," the lieutenant explained, "they are unbreakable, the locks unpickable, or so he assured me. I have not tested them myself." Within moments a strand of metal attached each of Demon's limbs to the prison wall, leaving hardly enough slack for him to lower his arms to his sides. Sitting was out of the question.

Turning his attention to Zelda, he put a single cuff with a much longer chain around her left ankle. She was free to roam much of the cell, save a small inverse crescent before the entrance

His work done, Jest returned to the door. He hesitated there, and slowly turned back to face his captives. "The king is still at a camp in the field treating his wounds," he explained quietly, "I'm going to delay my report as long as I can, another watch, perhaps two, so that he will not arrive until dawn. One of my men will bring down some scraps from the kitchen if they can be spared. I will think of it as a final request."

"You should have left us alone," Demon rasped as he leaned painfully against his restraints, "it would have better served your family."

Jest's face was emotionless. "I've put you both in the same cell, that is generous enough."

One of the soldiers stepped forward in protest."But what of the explosion she caused in that barn during the battle? What if she works further magic?"

Jest turned to his man, irritated by the interruption. "The King says it was a response to an attempt on the Butcher's life. She can't control it."

Eyes wide, Zelda glanced to Demon then back to the lieutenant. How had he known she couldn't access the Triforce at will? How had the _king of Aratia_ known it?

"Goodbye, Harkinian," Jest bowed to the princess. "Burn in hell, Butcher," he quoted wryly as he saluted Demon. "My men will be guarding the door. They shall see that nothing ugly occurs during the night."

He left a single lantern on the floor of the cell within Zelda's reach, and then disappeared behind the formidable barrier of the massive door. Both Demon and the princess listened to the dispiriting click of the lock and the drop of the bar, their perspective's suddenly static after the flurry of motion that had been the day.

"My magic," Zelda said immediately, but stopped as Demon threw himself viciously forward against his chains. The links screeched in protest at the assassin's grudging strength, but no weakness manifested. It seemed to the princess that Demon kept struggling forever, his face turning almost crimson as he twisted and wrenched and tried to pull his restraints from their fixing in the stone wall.

Finally he stopped and his ragged breathing was the only sound within the cell. "We should have seen it," he rasped, "the bolt wound in Arawn's manor, the shadow warrior in Kokiri village, the darknuts in Kakoriko and yesterday on the field."

"Then why couldn't I stop you being stabbed during the blizzard?" Zelda retorted, "Why couldn't I heal you?"

Demon shrugged, his head hanging against his chest. "I don't think you had time to react. And it wasn't mortal, I survived didn't I?"

The princess opened her mouth to respond, then closed it as a contemplative frown passed over her features. The lantern to her left cast flickering outlines of her posture on the far wall, the shadow engaged in far more action than the woman. Demon relaxed slowly against the chains that held him and let the taut muscles in his shoulders take the strain.

They were trapped, both seemed to realize anew, trapped and alone at the heart of an evil regime. After a year of running, and dozens of close escapes, they'd finally been snared.

Zelda groaned, a tired wretched sound, and lowered her stiff frame to the ground. Gratefully she leaned back against the stone wall and tried to massage some circulation into her wrists. "I feel that I should be more scared, but I have been scared for so long..." She studied Demon's limbs hanging awkwardly from the wall. "You're going to have an uncomfortable night."

The assassin met her gaze, and raised an eyebrow. "It will be fine until I have to piss," he replied, "then things will get uncomfortable."

Zelda choked, the corners of her mouth threatening to turn upwards. "And I guess I'll have to trust you to close your eyes when I piss," she speculated, "on your honor as a lord."

"Or blindfold me," Demon suggested, "I'm in no position to stop you."

Zelda cocked her head to the side, a weary amusement in her features. "I hadn't thought of that," she admitted. "The lord Demon helpless before me. I suspect I know a couple of Terminian noblewomen who would give their fortunes for this opportunity."

Demon laughed, and the princess was struck by the unrestrained nature of the sound. She'd never heard the assassin laugh that way, not in all her time travelling with him.

"I trust you will protect my virtue, princess," Demon quipped, and he grinned. Actually grinned! Zelda narrowed her eyes.

"You act as if we're trading banter at a party, not locked in a dungeon awaiting our doom."

Demon rattled one of his leg shackles. "Why not, princess? It doesn't seem like a doom I can avoid." He inspected the cuffs on his arms. "They don't even have keyholes."

Zelda stared at him, her earlier humor fading away. "What will happen?" She paused. "Tomorrow, when the king returns?"

Before the assassin could answer the scraping of wood and key at the door announced an imminent intrusion. Zelda retreated a few steps towards the corner of the cell, suddenly unnerved by Demon's helplessness. If whoever entered was intent on breaking Jest's promise, on humiliating them further, than it would be up to her to prevent it.

The lock clicked and the door swung inward. One of the Aratian soldiers moved through the gap, bearing a grimace, a pitcher, and a roasted chicken upon an earthenware plate. Zelda was suddenly aware of the way her tongue was cleaving to the roof of her mouth, conscious of both her hunger and thirst at the same time.

The soldier avoided eye contact with either of the two Hylians as he placed both his burdens carefully upon the ground and backed out of the cell. Then the door shut again, and both prisoners' eyes and senses turned to the roasted chicken on the plate.

Zelda scrambled forward and raised the pitcher to her lips, pale calves showing from beneath her skirt. Water sloshed as she overbalanced and used the vessel to break her fall. Luckily, she managed to place it on stone and not in the middle of their meal.

She glanced to Demon, who had been a passive observer to the whole spectacle. A smile formed at the corners of his mouth.

"If I hadn't seen you dance, I would accuse you of clumsiness," he said.

Zelda's eyes narrowed. "If you want any of this delicious-looking chicken, I suggest you show a little more humility to your princess."

Demon slumped. "Royalty," he sighed, but his eyes tracked Zelda's dirty fingers hungrily as she pulled a drumstick from the carcass and stuffed most of it, bone and all, into her mouth.

Together they finished off the entire bird and most of the water, amazed at their good fortune in the 'scraps' Jest had provided. Luckily, the princess didn't have to actually feed Demon, just bring the plate close enough that he could tear pieces of meat off the bones. After some teasing she had done so, and the assassin had ravenously attacked the food.

Zelda had studied him as he'd eaten, and her smile had faded. His eyes were bloodshot, his body rent with a dozen minor injuries, and his wrists and ankles a mess of chafing and broken skin. She could tell the day's journey had battered him, yet what could she do? One could only pray to the goddesses and hope none of the wounds became infected.

"I have a question about the goddesses, Demon," she said once he'd wiped most of the grease from his chin and leaned back against the wall, "since you seem to be the expert."

"No man is an expert on the goddesses," Demon replied, and yet he waited expectantly.

"Why do they provide us so little aid?" Zelda sighed. 'If they love Hyrule at all, if they love any of us at all, why do they allow such unhindered suffering?"

Demon shrugged, chains rattling. "It's the nature of the Cycle."

Zelda's eyes hardened. "A Cycle of pain, a Cycle of betrayal and of hollow victories. Is that the true legacy of our all-loving goddesses?"

The cell lapsed into silence. Demon mulled his response. His face flickered through a number of emotions before he opened his mouth.

"Love is only a third of what the goddesses are," he said finally. "Above all, the goddesses must be balanced. Life _and_ death, good _and _evil-"

"So they're not even our allies," Zelda interrupted, "in fact, we are simply pieces on their board!"

"The goddesses have hurt me far more than evil ever could," Demon responded quietly. "But then again, I am better at fighting men than gods."

Zelda studied him, curiosity etched in her features. Yet she knew better than to ask questions about the assassin's past. "Then why are we fighting?" she asked instead. "My country is in tatters, Termina is defenseless, and my friends have only betrayed me. Why must we sacrifice time and time again?"

Demon grimaced. "Ganondorf fights to end the Cycle, we fight to prolong it. We have chosen the lesser of two evils."

Zelda once again bit her lower lip as she paused. She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the cell floor. "Are you sure," she whispered finally, "that this is the lesser of two evils?"

Demon's smile was ice-cold. "I care nothing about the Cycle, princess."

_I care only for you. _The princess heard the unstated phrase as if it had been uttered aloud. That was why he was here, chained to a wall in a Hylian dungeon.

Abruptly she stood again, one hand clasping a thin shoulder. "Yesterday six thousand men died because we told them their land and their children were in danger. Where do the dead go, Demon? What have we condemned them too?"

The assassin frowned. "I'm sure Impa answered that question well enough."

"When I was little she told me of a sacred realm where all people sang hymns and feasted at great banquets," Zelda replied. "I've always felt there must be other important things in death besides hymns and banquets."

Demon leaned back against the wall, propping his head against his hands.

"I was once told that the bravest heroes become new stars in the night sky. Still sounds dark, cold, and very boring."

"I..." Zelda said, running a hand through her hair, "I was once told that as well, another story from Impa now that I think about it." She frowned at the assassin. "But six thousand new stars would make the night hardly darker than the day!"

"There are several problems with the theory," Demon said dryly.

"Well, what do you think?"

"Think?"

"Where do we go when we die?" Zelda explained.

Demon winced, "I think I shall find out very soon."

000

The night was passing and the lamp fading when either of the two prisoners spoke again. It was Zelda who broke the silence, if only to ask the question that had been interrupted earlier by the Aratian guard.

"What will the king do to us?" she asked, and recoiled at the darkness which flashed through Demon's eyes. The long silence, or perhaps his chafing restraints, had put him in a foul mood.

"I will be killed," Demon said, "and for a time you will become Ganondorf's pet." He raised his head to stare at the thick wooden crossbeams of the ceiling and laughed harshly. "Malon made sure of that."

The princess shivered, feeling very small. "And that makes you _laugh_?" she asked. "That all of our dreams have come to this?"

"You will escape, princess," the assassin promised, and Zelda could not doubt the conviction in his words. "Myself, I am not afraid to die."

"Not afraid?" Her confusion obvious, the princess pushed dirty hair behind a pointed ear.

"It will solve..." he hesitated, and Zelda couldn't avoid the sense that he was selecting his words carefully. "It will solve many problems."

In a moment the princess was on her feet, the heavy chain dragging behind her as she strode across the cell. "It would solve _what_ exactly, assassin? What would the Hero of Time's death, the damning of the world, solve?"

Demon shook his head. "I have always deserved death, princess. Even if you choose not to admit it."

"Look me in the eyes," Zelda ordered, and she enforced the order by taking his head in her hands and pointing it at her. "We have discussed this," she said, half-forceful half-pleading, "and the discussion was over long ago."

"Our situation was different then," the assassin said, and his eyes skipped to the side.

"Look at me!" Zelda snapped, and her fingers clenched into his hair. "Tell me you are not leaving me to Ganondorf!"

"I'm chained to a wall," Demon said, "my promises are worthless."

"Look at me," Zelda shouted, suddenly angry as her fingers dug into the assassin's skin. "Why do you want to die, Demon? Why am I not worthy of the Hero of Time?"

There was a shocked silence in which the princess released his head and stepped back, while Demon did indeed finally raise his eyes – only to see hers had dropped away. He levered himself back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest as the words hung in the air between them.

"It's her," Zelda said softly, "the woman you could not save. You think death will unite you? Do you think she will recognize the man you are, or mourn the one you were? Will she betray you again, her single, greatest victory?"

Demon recoiled.

"I was broken when you found me," the assassin growled, "it has nothing to do with your worth."

"And, while broken, you have accomplished more than Gabriel, then Garret, more, even than," she choked, "Impa. When will you stop being broken and admit you are healing?"

Demon's eye's sparked. "Shadows never heal, murderers are never forgiven!"

Zelda shook her head in disgust, unkempt strands of hair drifting over her face. "You are such a selfish man, assassin. I told you that in the Garden Quarter, and I tell you that again. Do not make me repeat it a third time!"

There was no repentance on Demon's face, no reconciliation in his stare. "You were the one who was selfish," he accused, and his eyes glowed with a smouldering danger. "I followed you when we were alone in the world. I bled for you fighting thousands of monsters. I killed _demons_ for you, princess, and you abandoned me!"

He threw himself forward until the chains stopped him just short of Zelda. She flinched away from the accusations as much as the physical force. "You and I stood on Death Mountain and vowed that eternity would not separate us! We danced in the halls of your fathers in the days of glory, when you promised that darkness was gone forever! You were half of the great whole, peace of my heart, princess to my hero! I trusted you, Zelda," he snarled, "and you betrayed me!

Zelda stepped back, her own anger lost amidst Demon's words. Her heart beat in her chest with a strange longing, a strange surrender, even as her head rejected the nonsense of the assassin's words. "I will never understand you," she said softly, "I give up."

She turned, and dragged her chain back across the cell to the far corner. There she curled up against the cold stone and shivered with both fear and frustration.

_Our last hours together and this is how we choose to spend them_, her heart spoke. _Again I give you a chance. Ask for forgiveness, ask to start anew. Even now at the end there is time for a fresh beginning._

But Demon never spoke, never even stirred despite the surely atrocious pain in his tortured joints. Instead his eyes burned with an inner fire that never dulled through the rest of the long night.

000

Author's Note: I've always thought that Zelda's perception of the Goddesses was always an underdeveloped part of the universe. Why are she and Demon so compelled to obey the wishes of giant supernatural figures, bear the pressures of 'Destiny' despite very little support from the Goddesses? Why does Zelda always have the right, contrite, religious answer to questions that are always more complicated than she makes them out to be? Of course, both those questions assume a radical evil that wants more than "just to see the world burn" (or perhaps has a compelling reason for embracing that desire), but both are very interesting questions to answer. As a Christian myself, I am putting questions in Zelda's mouth that I would ask in her position, questions that I think she (with her great compassion and empathy) would also ask.

On a different note, it always annoys me when legendary warriors are captured in stupid ways that are obviously plot orchestrations. I put some thought into Jest because I wanted a figure who was both compassionate enough not to hurt Zelda (I don't want to write anything of that sort, but as a military history student I understand the links between war and atrocity), but also devious enough to render Demon helpless. I think he (Jest) is a pretty interesting figure, and he will show up again.

Lastly, I know many of you want more of the silly flirtation that went on in Termina between Demon and Zelda, but frankly there simply isn't room for it in this part of the story. As you can see from their interactions in the cell, the stress of their position is highlighting their differences rather than their similarities. Demon is not a tame wolf, and Zelda isn't some sort of complete angel either. Both of them say some brutal things in that conversation, and both come to regret those things.

-Celeborn00


	78. Chapter 76

_What have I become,_

_My sweetest friend?_

_Everyone I know, / goes away, / In the end _

_And you could have it all, _

_My empire of dirt. _

_I will let you down; _

_I will make you hurt._

-Jonny Cash _"Hurt"_

**Chapter 76**

_This is wrong_, Demon thought, and yet the anger was there anyway. It was like...

An old friend, a new lover, a purpose so sure it defied logic. He felt...

Like a coiled spring. Like a taught rope. Like a storm on the horizon.

It was the brink of a reawakening, the promise of something delicious

The princess was still in her corner, refusing to meet his eyes after their argument hours before. Yet Demon was trying to convince himself it didn't matter.

The assassin could feel it, a dark oblivion, a black singularity somewhere close. He drew from it as his hands clenched into fists beneath the innocuous metal of his restraints. Underneath, under all the niceties, all the civilities, all the _weakness..._he was the Butcher, wasn't he? He was the Demon, wasn't he?

The door-bolt clicked, and the assassin flinched back from the forbidden path. How was it still so easy to regress? _You are healing, _the princess had said.

Still…

He glanced to Zelda's corner, and this time he did care, he did hurt, yet he was still too proud to admit it. And then a certain brown-haired Hylian noble strode into the room, and any opportunity for talking disappeared.

Demon watched as the blood drained from Zelda's face in a swift, sudden shock. The princess climbed unsteadily to her feat, and, limping to meet the figure, slapped him as hard as her frame would allow. Then she slapped him again and again.

His face snapped to the side each time, yet neither he nor the Aratians who flanked him responded. After the third strike, Zelda stopped, trembling, and the Hylian stared down at her.

"I was never as loved as you," Gabriel said, his hollow face pinching still further against the brightness in his eyes. He was gaunt, thin, the once broad shoulders stooping like those of an old man. "I was never adored. I was never trusted. No one believed I was more than a spoiled lord playing at being king."

"You're a traitor!" Zelda hissed, "You destroyed my country!"

She moved as if to grab a weapon from one of the soldiers flanking Gabriel, but the Hylian caught her arm. "Look into their eyes, Zelda," he explained, "not even the assassin could best these creatures in combat."

Zelda looked at their grey pupil-less gaze. Demon snorted derisively. Jerking her arm away from the prince, she retreated a step.

"Yet you always could make people love you," Gabriel continued dryly. "Look to the assassin for instance. When we met he was about to murder you, now he's been chained by Jest. Because of you..."

"He loves another," corrected Zelda, refusing to glance at the assassin.

"He's is willing to die for you." Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "I would have died for you too, princess, if only you could have understood."

While Zelda stuttered and fumed, he motioned to his men to unchain the prisoners. Neither Zelda nor Demon could miss the fluid efficiency with which the men moved as they transferred their bonds once again. The assassin's shackles were simply removed from the wall and fused together in a process he could not follow while a length of chain was left between the manacles on his legs. Zelda's hands were shackled once again, but her legs were left free.

"The king is waiting," Gabriel said, turning on his heel. "This whole tragedy is about to be finished."

Demon's mind was busy as he was shoved from the cell. He wondered how close he was to death, even as he considered the combat skill of the possessed soldier forcing him along the dungeon corridor. _Too strong and too fast,_ he thought, _but too predictable. One at a time I would kill them._

Yet not with his hands trapped behind him. Not weaponless with joints frozen by a night of constant strain. In some ways he was happy to simply be on his feet, but the frustration goaded him.

As they navigated the dungeon and began ascending back towards the courtyard, Demon glared at the back of the Hylian noble in front of him. _I should have killed you long ago_, he lamented, _how is it the cockroaches always survive while the wolves fall? _ As if sensing his gaze, Gabriel looked back and his step faltered as he met the assassin's burning eyes.

"You never should have come back to Hyrule," the man said as he turned away. Demon was surprised by the elements of regret in the prince's voice. Then he felt his guard's hands tighten upon him and he realized that the princess and himself were not the only prisoners here, though they were the only ones in chains.

They were led back the way they had come, back up to the inner courtyard of Hyrule castle. This time they weren't blindfolded and Demon was struck by the decrepitude of their surroundings. Reminders of the sack of the castle where everywhere, from singed wall hangings to actual bloodstains. Dust hung thick upon overturned or smashed furniture, and several doors had simply been jammed open, despite hanging upon shattered hinges.

They met no one upon their journey, human otherwise.

Demon was initially surprised when, upon reaching the courtyard, the party turned toward the main gate rather than continuing upwards into the castle proper. He frowned, and then felt the twinge of inevitability as pieces of the cosmic puzzle fell into place. _Of course it will end there_, he realized_, it is the center, after all._

That thought kept him occupied as he was loaded onto an ugly sledge and pulled by rasping, rattling stalfos through the great gate and into the city. It kept him occupied even as the princess drew closer to his side, touching her hand to his. It kept him occupied until the Temple of Time cast its long shadow over the sledge and its occupants, and he and the princess were hustled into the most ancient structure in Hyrule.

The princess, of course, had other thoughts as she was led in chains through the remnants of her capital, but Demon did not think to question her or to comfort her. He thought only of ugly things, and the princess suffered alone at the consequences of her long defeat.

As they entered Demon felt his anger drain away as something else, something close to panic, filled his soul. _I will see the world end for a second time,_ a small voice yammered in his mind._ I will lose everything again. I am cursed and cursed and cursed..._

The silver adornments of the temple were a tarnished green that betrayed long neglect, yet the precious stones and ornaments were still in place. Obviously even the Aratians had been wary to loot a holy temple. The familiar, pearly luminescence still resonated from the walls and reflected a ghastly pallor from the bleached limbs of the stalfos. The holy altar still stood at the top of the stair, the corpse of the King of Aratia piled at its foot.

At least it seemed to be a corpse, but then the eyes flicked open and slowly, ever so slowly, the king rose to sit with his back against the altar pedestal. A hush fell over those assembled—Hylian, Aratian, and monster alike—as they stared at the ruin of the man who had brought them to this moment.

Dried blood suggested flows from his nose, his ears, even his eyes, and bloody handprints marked the spots where he had pushed himself from the alabaster tile. His once powerful frame was curled and twisted like the husk of a dead insect, and he seemed to have shrunk in his torment.

"Ahhh," he gasped, as much in pain as pleasure, "the Hero and the Princess. Yet there is a third piece we still need." He hissed and his eyes narrowed into slits. "Bring the pretty one to me."

Demon tensed as the Aratian holding Zelda pushed her roughly forward, his mind considering options that became more and more desperate as the moments passed. He cursed Malon once again for bringing the princess into it, for ruining what would have been an inevitable, welcome, death. Yet what could he do? Once again he stood at the entrance to the temple and watched helplessly as the world spun itself apart. Once again he watched the princess as—

"How easily you sacrifice your friends," the king said, and Demon saw his eyes were fixed on the assassin. "I believed if you didn't know, you couldn't kill me, and if you did know you wouldn't try. I had no idea how...corrupted you had become."A spout of coughing interrupted him. When it finished, a trickle of fresh crimson dribbled from the corner of his mouth. "But I can still hurt you," he choked, "I can break you as you have broken me."

Two more of his grey-eyed guards ascended towards him with Zelda and her captor, closing about her like sharks in the sea. The assassin wrenched against his own guard as the Aratians laid hands on her, but suddenly he was surrounded as well.

"There are two ways to open the sacred gate," the king announced, and Demon froze as he suddenly noticed the ugly crack which marred the vast expanse of the door behind the altar. That crack, that tangible evidence of his own failure, hurt him more than his emotions could express.

"The first is with the sacred ocarina, but only you, Butcher, know what has become of that instrument." Demon's eyes widened as memories, long-repressed, flashed into focus, but the king didn't allow him time to understand them.

"But the Master behind the door knows of another way. He told me of it, told me many secrets about the Cycle, about the sacred, about," the king grinned, "you, Demon."

He gestured, and the three Aratians pushed Zelda against the pedestal. Her feet dangled above the floor and her shoulders twisted to keep her arms in their sockets. She cried out in surprise and pain, and this time the assassin almost tore himself away from the grasping arms despite their number.

"Blood," the king explained, and he trembled as he rose on unsteady legs. "Harkinian blood, innocent blood, Destined blood, will open this door and release the Master. Without her there is no hope, no fate, no _balance_."

One of his hands disappeared inside his robe and reappeared with a shape so familiar Demon could feel the hilt against his skin. A shape he had borne through a thousand battles, a knife as much a part of him as the dark materials of his soul.

_It's her life they want. _Sudden horror. _Her life, not mine. _

_And my blade will kill her._

"Stop!" Demon shouted, writhing in the grasp of his empty-eyed guards. "He will betray you! You will gain nothing!"

"Agreed," the king replied, and he turned, trembling, to the altar. Zelda struggled, kicked, yet a hand over her mouth muffled her scream and forced her head back, back...

"He will unmake the world! He will destroy all of us!" Demon raged, "I have seen it!"

"How?" the king hissed, yet a smile turned the corners of his stained mouth. "How can you know such things?"

Demon's thrashing knocked one of his guards to the ground, yet the man was back on his feet in an instant. His bared teeth were an evil promise against those who restrained him. "Because I was there!" he shouted, "I saw the last Cycle! I chained Ganon in the realm beyond. I saw the world unmade!"

The king grinned, the point of his weapon set against the princess's stomach. Zelda herself had gone suddenly stiff, from fear or sudden understanding the assassin could not tell. She was beautiful, even now, her pale skin lighter than the surrounding alabaster, her eyes, the same ones which forever haunted the assassin's dreams, a mystery he could never solve.

"Kill me instead!" He screamed. "I deserve this fate!"

"Which is why you won't work," the king said, and his knife flashed across the princess's throat.

Suddenly the fresh blood upon the king's garments was no longer his own, and crimson splattered in jerking rivulets on the stone altar. The princess jerked, every muscle tightening in sudden, animal reflex.

There was a sound, a gasping, choking, gurgling whimper, and Zelda's pale arms trembled and clutched as the Aratians lowered her into a deflated heap on the tile. Her eyes, meeting the assassin's with the sudden intimacy of imminent mortality, conveyed pain, and confusion and a violated panic which dulled with every beat of her emptying heart.

Demon saw the end in her eyes. He saw the pieces of _her,_ her words, her convictions, her smile, her hope, slip away. He saw the eclectic shreds of soul, the sparks which had made the princess more than flesh, more than woman, more than friend, retreat into the black oblivion.

He saw Zelda die, and with her fragile flame went every argument he'd ever used to keep the demons at bay. With her went every definition of _right_ or _good_ he had ever believed.

A princess died, and the world trembled at the beginning of the ending of it all.

000

**Author's Note:** There are moments, as a writer, when it becomes to real, when you as author find yourself weeping at the horrible, twistedness of it all. I hated writing this chapter. My beta hated it so much she had to take a day break between reading it and editing it.

There is something about Zelda which was made me hope this would not happen. Even though I'd planned the story out, chapter by chapter, and knew this was coming, I still wanted her to find a way out before the end. Demon's thoughts, _I am cursed, and I am cursed, and I am cursed_, take on new meaning. How can his life hold such evil? How is it even possible?

Last chapter I mentioned a quote from a Dumas novel that I would encourage you all to keep in mind (both in life and general and in the more limited microcosm of this story). This tale is not finished, this IS NOT the end. There will be more darkness before the dawn, but the dawn (in some sense) is coming.

DO NOT go gentle into that good night. Do not give on me or on this story. This song is not yet fully song; this tale is not yet completed. Story, like life, is a matter of trusting in the possibilities of tomorrow. It take a profound faith in the intangibles that you cannot prove. It take a stubborn tenacity that RAGES against the dying of the light.

This is also a chapter that you should review. Flame me if you want. In some sense I want to flame myself as well.

-Celeborn00


	79. Chapter 77

_I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and all your demons_

_I'll be the one to protect you from a will to survive and a voice of reason_

_I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and your choices, son_

_They're one in the same, I must isolate you…_

_Isolate and save you from yourself …_

"Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums" -A Perfect Circle

Chapter 77

_You thought there was a choice, that there was a future that didn't end here, in this place, in blood!_

_You thought you could ignore me, as if I wasn't part of you! _

_Embrace me, and this temple will echo with the screams of the dying! Embrace me, and we will have revenge! Embrace me and forget all outside the shadow!_

_Anything, _Demon whimpered, and he opened all the closets, all the basements, all the cells of his mind at once.

Somewhere far away and irrelevant, stone crumbled and shattered as the door to the sacred realm collapsed under its own rotten weight. Vicious winds swept the interior of the temple like battling ghosts, snuffing candles and staggering men and monsters. The noise—shrieking air and thundering stone—was deafening as the air clouded with ancient grit.

Demon grimaced, his teeth bared in a rictus of turmoil that slitted his eyes against the billowing dust. The sound he made then was indescribable, and fortunately buried under the cacophony of the surrounding storm.

The pain stole sense, it stole reason. It trumped logic and despair and sorrow and regret. It transformed the assassin, tore him down and formed him again as one dark and elemental. When his eyes reopened they blazed with more than sparks, more than smoulder.

Demon was reborn.

_I am a god_, he hissed, and manacles snapped like twigs at the corrosion of his power. Darkness met evil and the darkness won, the king's magic crumpled before it.

_I am unstoppable_, he hissed, and his hands crushed the throat of a grey-eyed guard even as the man drew his sword.

_I am invincible_, he hissed, and twisted away from four blades that sought the space he had inhabited. The king's men were blazing fast in their attack, but Demon was something beyond speed. He ducked under a slice and, grabbing the man by his armor, threw him bodily into his fellows.

Then he grasped the sword of the fallen man, and the slaughter began in earnest.

Gabriel was gone, fled the temple, yet a score of Aratians and stalfos remained in the antechamber before the altar. They were confused, leaderless; they were dead before they thought to flee.

Demon's sword cut through bone, sinew, flesh. His free hand ripped a stalfos' jaw from its socket, even as he kicked a man in the stomach with enough force to pulp his organs. Crimson droplets hung like jewels in the shrieking wind. Limbs slapped to the ground, still spasmodically moving. Teeth flew, Bones broke. Severed arteries shot men's lifeblood onto the temple tile.

And Demon roared. Tears fell from his eyes to mix with the crimson upon his features. His sword dripped with blood and bile.

Ten heartbeats, and Demon was as alone in body as he was in spirit. Ten heartbeats from the only heart that, at the end, was still beating.

Then he turned to the altar and stumbled towards it through bodies and blades. Only once he slumped brfore the body of his princess did he falter, did his weapon drop, and did he take her limp hand between his own. Blood marred the entire front of Zelda's dress, culminating in a hideous slash across her delicate throat, yet her face was unbroken.

For a moment the assassin's rage disappeared. Gently he leaned down and pressed his cheek against the princess's lips to check for breath. As he did, one hand furtively reached up and stroked the golden hair back from her temple, a single act of affection amidst the encompassing carnage.

He felt nothing.

And so he shouldered the body, straining under a weight that seemed much heavier than the princess's slim form, and climbed the groaning rubble that separated the antechamber from the inner temple. His eyes tracked the bloody smear of the king's passage, eyes that blazed with eternal fire. Eyes that blazed with vicious promise.

The Master Sword was where he had left it, plunged into the exact center of the chamber, framed against a shimmering patch of darkness. Evil's Bane glistened with divine light and the assassin flinched as he beheld it. The sword belonged to a previous life, a hero long dead. It was an artifact of another world.

"A terrifying weapon. A _pure_ weapon," a familiar voice mocked, "but you're no longer pure, are you...Link?"

Demon turned and his eyes followed the streak of blood to the motionless Aratian king. The monarch's right arm was reaching out, stretched to the farthest extent possible, and the first two fingers of his hand rested on the midnight leather of a man's boot. Demon saw the boot, looked up, up, up to the eyes of a Gerudo giant, and knew that he beheld Ganondorf.

The Great Evil clad in unholy flesh.

Black skin, crimson locks, a face scarred by the brutal ravaging of the Master Sword. He wore armor forged in watered steel and gilded with hammered gold. He was ravager of the world, most ancient of evils. Ganondorf, wielder of the Triforce of Power, the third piece of the eternal struggle.

Light filtered through frosted glass in strange, aquatic patterns across his face and torso. His smile, coarse lips pulled back from brilliant teeth, mocked the assassin's rage. His hand moved and one of the Terim clattered across the floor to Demon's feet.

"It seems you have lost the other," said the king of evil as he unsheathed his own massive blade. Inevitably his eyes drifted to Zelda's corpse. "Among other things."

The barb drew no response. Carefully he went to one knee, wrapping an arm around his burden's waist and another under her head to keep the awful wound from gaping open. Muscles clenched all along his back as he lowered her slowly to the tile floor and picked up the half of the Terim:

His last remaining knife.

And suddenly he was hurtling forward towards the creature from which all evil spawned, the creature whose life had required the princess' death.

Ganondorf roared as the knife impaled his left hand through the gauntlet, then skittered along his arm searching for weaknesses in his vambrace and pauldron. Demon had one foot planted in the crook of the king's arm, while his free hand gripped the front of the Gurudo's cuirass. His knife found a chink and sunk once more into flesh, which drew a curse from Ganondorf as the king physically threw Demon against the wall.

Yet the assassin twisted in mid-air, and, planting his feet firmly against the marble, he sprang back into the battle. This time the Gerudo was ready and used the flat of his blade as a shield against Demon's momentum, while still receiving the beginnings of another scar above his left eye.

Deflected, the assassin skidded to a halt on the slick tile. Blood dripped from his blade even as flames burned in his eyes, his form perfectly balanced over a splayed hand.

Ganondorf shook his head in wonder. "The hero pales compared to what you have become. The power you possess!" He drew in a long breath, as if testing the air. "Do you realize what you have done, or what you have lost?"

He swung his sword in a blurring circle despite its size. Already the wound in his hand ceased to bleed, the gash upon his face had never started. "It almost makes me wish-"

Demon struck as the words left his mouth, and struck, and struck, and struck again. The Gerudo deflected the first two, and part of the third, but he could only grunt as Demon yanked his head back by the braids in his hair and sawed a line through his leathery skin. Then the king's sword came up in a reflexive attack and hammered the assassin across the chamber.

There was a pause, as Ganondorf raised both his hands to his neck in an attempt to staunch the sudden flow of blood, and Demon glared stupidly at the shard of bone jutting from his right arm. The chamber was silent save for their breathing, and the steady drip of crimson staining alabaster.

"Ans so ish conshinues." Ganondorf's voice bubbled through his shredded windpipe. He paused, and suddenly removed his hands from his neck. "Yet in a few moments it is only a memory." Grinning, he let Demon study the fading blood and knitting skin, with no scar left to mark the ebony hue. "While your arm..."

The assassin glared, his lips curling above bared teeth. Haltingly, he rose to his feet.

_I am a god!_

The forearm felt strangely distant in his grasp as he pulled it outward to align the bones. The pain was maddening, but what was pain? What was madness to a demon?

_I am unstoppable!_

He snarled, holding the bone in place as he channeled all his anger, all his hate into that one singularity.

_I am invincible!_

And bones and sinews knit together in a flash of heat, and Demon flexed his healed arm in grim conviction. He smiled as the power coursed through him, and the sight was terrible to behold.

Ganondorf's eyes were wide, his skin as pale as it had ever been. "_That_, I did not foresee. I wonder..." He flung a hand towards the assassin, who skittered across the chamber to collide with the far wall under the magic's impact. Ridged silver hammered the muscles in Demon's back, yet somehow he kept a grip on his weapon. Somehow he even kept his feet.

"The thing is," Ganondorf continued, "you have no hope of stopping me." His hand remained rigid in front of him, and so did the power which plastered Demon against the silver. "Without the princess, you have no answer to my power, only my swordwork...and you're not even using the right sword!"

The assassin wrenched his limbs, slavering and gnashing in his fury. Yet his hands were submerging in silver suddenly smoking with the heat of magic, and his futile struggle only made the king laugh.

"How does it feel," Ganondorf asked, flashing his brilliant teeth, "to lose everything...twice? Why are you even fighting? What is there left for you to desire in this world?"

His eyes clouded, and Demon saw what was going to happen next. He roared and threw himself forward with such violence that his shoulders popped in protest. His roar turned into a scream, but the bones were almost instantly returned in their sockets, healed by another rush of power.

"I have been revenged on her," the king growled, "but you, hero, are only beginning your pain." With a deliberate suspense he strode to the crumpled, murdered body upon the floor, and turned it with his boot until it lay splayed before him.

He looked deep into Demon's eyes as he raised his sword and brought a slashing blow down upon the center of the corpse.

It cut cleanly, separating the two halves of the body just below the ribcage. It was dead already, the mutilation was only a further indignity upon unfeeling meat, and yet Demon looked upon the fluttering fabric matted into sluggish blood with a horror the shook the foundations of his rage.

He was silent as Ganondorf hoisted both halves of the body and dragged them to the shimmering black at the back of the temple. He threw one, then the other, over the lintel of the portal into the realm beyond, the shimmer absorbing them with hardly a ripple in its unnatural surface.

"You see, hero," he said, still facing the gate, "I have killed the woman you were meant to protect, indeed your only _reason_ for existing. I have killed her to free myself, but also that you might suffer the same _pain, _the same _solitude _that I have suffered during the age I spent alone in the realm beyond this gate."

He turned, and gloried in the ravening destruction mirrored in Demon's eyes. "Perhaps you now agree that it is time this miserable place is ended, that this world is ruled by someone other than those insane sadists we call the goddesses."

His hand settled on his sword. "We have been given the power to challenge them, you and I, and yet we squander it, Cycle after Cycle, squabbling with each other! Dancing on the divine strings!"

"Last time I had almost finished it before you ruined the attempt. Yet I still won!" he laughed, "for what was that shattered world without me!"

"You thought you escaped, for a time, but did you really, hero? Look at yourself and tell me you eluded my power!"

He gestured to Demon's ripped garments, his ruby eyes, the blood that coated the last third of his knife projecting from the silvered wall. "You have sinned, Link! You have sinned against man, and gods, and princesses! You are more feared in this world even than I, you and your demons and your cruelty and your madness!"

And slowly Ganondorf smiled, dark amusement in his features.

"Although, I admit, I may be partly responsible for that."

The chamber was silent for a few moments.

"Hate is an infectious thing," he pondered, "it breeds like a disease in the depths of a man's heart, growing, strengthening, becoming more potent."

"And, just like a disease, it can be spread, by touch, through deeds, or perhaps even ancient and powerful magics..."

"Did you ever wonder how you became so _broken_, Demon? How the pure, naïve, silly hero became so _corrupted?"_

He gestured to the sword embedded in the center of the chamber. "The sword protected you through our battles, but at the end...for a while...you lost it, hero."

"And my hate cut deeper than all my magic," he snorted. "But you were too innocent, then. Too pure. And so my essence, my shadow, festered deep within you waiting for a moment of weakness. Of _despair._"

He stepped back across the chamber towards to the corpse of his Aratian servant. "You are a part of me now. The son I never wanted. Although honestly I didn't expect you to survive the infection."

Leaning to the side he grabbed the king's body in a single massive hand and held it before him like a child's doll. "This one didn't," he explained.

And suddenly the king shed his mutilated body, and became a small, limp, green-haired girl dressed raggedly in the colours of the forest. A suppurating wound was visible through a tear in the side of her garment, a wound caused only days before upon the grasses of Hyrule Field.

"Saria," Demon said, the first word he had spoken, and for a moment his eyes flickered to a colour darker than a raging forge.

"Do you see?" the king gloried, "do you at last fight against the poison in your veins? She searched for you, hero, when you left the forest years ago. She came to this very temple and delved beyond the seal., Dangerous, but then how could she have known that she would meet _me_ in that place?" He laughed a thunderous and harsh sound, like cogs turning in a vast metal engine. "The infection was killing her, and you blade hastened her passing..." He studied Demon. "How did you know to use a blade forged to kill fairies and forest-dwellers? But she was useful before she passed."

He kept talking then, taunting, because he could not see what the assassin saw, could not believe that anything in the blood-stained chamber could be beyond his control. His lips moved and hate spewed forth, but in the corpse hanging from his arms a different transformation was occurring.

Shards of blue appeared beneath bruised eyelids, and delicate fingers twitched once, almost in protest against the dark words of the king. The head rose, barely, and suddenly Demon was staring into ravaged blue eyes at the heart of one alike to him. Saria, his oldest friend.

In her he saw the same pain, the same rage reflected back at him, recognized the years of horror, and the elemental surrender of her being. The pain of recognition almost made him wrench away, but...

He saw the Kokiri summon her strength, even caught a glimpse of ancient trees and hidden springs in her gaze. Demon knew she recognized him then, as she stared into his own soul, and he saw her try to smile as she reached up a tiny, child's arm and pressed it against Ganondorf's hand.

The king cried out and flung his dying burden across the room to slam into alabaster, but Demon's limbs had already slipped free of the shattered magics which had held him. He had been given one final sacrifice, one final chance to kill the being who had taken everything.

Two strides to the center of the room where his left hand closed over the hilt of the Master Sword. Three more to Ganondorf where two perfect blows would knock the great cleaver from his hands and leave him open to true destruction. For this time, Demon would not be content with simple imprisonment. He would find a way to destroy the Gerudo. He would find a way to ravage the man's soul the way his had been ravaged. He would poison him with his own hate, pay him with his own destiny...

Yet two steps was as far as the assassin got.

The pommel of the sword burned in his hands, and it slid from the stone only with incredible reluctance. Demon wrapped both hand around the hilt, and screamed aloud in agony.

The sword which had once been his sole companion instead scorched the very skin from his palms.

Despite the smell of burning flesh, Demon refused to abandon his grip. He made to pull harder, bunching himself for a final effort, yet a vicious blow from the side threw him once more across the chamber.

"Look at your hands, you fool," Gandondorf savaged, "a moment more and you'd have roasted the tendons! Can't you see you have failed?"

The assassin clambered groggily to his feet, and was hit with another burst of magic. "The sword has a second name," Ganondorf hissed. "Can you not remember, hero? It is called _Evil's Bane!"_

He raised his arms above his head, triumphant. "We are evil, hero! We have become the same!"

The assassin floated upwards in the grip of the Gerudo's power until he hovered just in front of the shimmering portal. The circular void reflected his shadow upon the back of the chamber. The king grinned. "I have corrupted you," he said, "I have _seduced _you. But perhaps that is not so unique after all."

"The portal will close when the princess' blood is washed from the altar, I doubt it will be reopened. Good-bye, hero, I fear the worst is yet to come."

And Ganondorf thrust his hand forward, and the assassin fell back into blackness and beyond.

Demon had failed, all had come undone. Once again...

He was alone.

000

**Author's Note:**I got warned to post these the last chapter and this chapter fairly close together because of continuity and the horrible ending of the last chapter. I'm breaking some of my rules to do so, but I'll live with it. This chapter completes another story arc, the second-last one in this piece.

Ironically, according to my original plot, I would have ended the story in this chapter. Demon (of course) would have been the one who died, and Zelda would have been left to pick up the pieces of Hyrule by herself in a rather melancholy epilogue. Obviously that would have been extremely conventional and left us all feeling rather let down, and so I take some pride in the assertion that this story is going places that no one (myself included) expected it to go. Whether that assertion is actually true remains to be seen, but it does give me something to aspire to.

For those of you who are interested in this sort of thing, the Saria twist has been built in from a very early chapter. There are hints strewn all the way through, although it is still more poorly done than I would have wished.

Many thanks to The Wolfess for her help in editing, encouraging, and other various tasks,

Celeborn00


	80. Chapter 78

"_The consolation of fairy-stories, the joy of the happy ending: or more correctly of the good catastrophe, the sudden joyous "turn" (for there is no true end to any fairy-tale): this joy, which is one of the things which fairy-stories can produce supremely well, is not essentially 'escapist', nor 'fugitive'. In its fairy-tale—or otherworld—setting, it is a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of _dyscatastrophe_, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is _evangelium_, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief."_

"_On Fairy-Stories" –J.R.R. Tolkien_

Chapter 78

A golden glimmer, a will-o'-wisp, drifted across the field towards the crumpled maiden. It was only one of many in the golden radiance of the day, but it moved against the breeze, moved with a purpose beyond the lazy shimmer of the noon sun.

It was a great day, a glorious day, a day when the thrill of life should have spilled over the brim. The smell of warm grass in the air was laced with the sweetness of clover, and bumblebees hummed lethargic dreams from petal to petal. As long as such days existed, some would say, nothing could be truly wrong with the world.

The glimmer edged closer, peering under the tangled locks that hid a girl's face, then edging back. It floated, pushed to-and-fro by breeze and indecision. A golden glimmer, alike and unlike the sun-saturated field.

Malon flinched, and her hand came up to shield her face. She shrunk back against the wooden post behind her.

"They were here yesterday." Navi's weary voice contrasted the brightness around her.

The maiden before her flinched again. "Flaming hell!" she said, "a fairy!"

"There were here," Navi continued. "Now they have passed beyond…" She wove in the air, uncertain.

"Link used to speak of fairies. Silly boy thought they were real," Malon trailed off. "I guess they are."

"Link is dead." Navi's gaze swept along the rope burns on the ranch maid's arms, an angry red against pale skin.

Malon laughed. "He's been dead to me for years. I was ten, I grew up."

The fairy recoiled. "You saw him yesterday. Who else would guard Zelda so?"

Malon snorted, spit, laughed until the sound turned into a cough. "That bastard wasn't no Link," she argued. "He's a murderer, a _demon_. He kept asking about his bloody," she paused, and the smirk disappeared from her face, "horse."

"You didn't-" Navi began, and her anger surged louder than her tiny frame seemed capable of.

"It's not possible!" Malon spat. "Link would never! I say he's dead and gone, dead and buried. He wouldn't become-"

"Like you?" Navi whispered. "Selling your countrymen to the Aratians? I've heard whispers, even in the wood." Suddenly her aura changed to a dark pink, and she darted in towards Malon's face. "You sold Zelda! Of all the atrocities! You sold the Princess of Destiny?" Her voice was shrill.

Malon crumpled back against the post. "It was only supposed to be _him_. The murderer for my father. It was supposed to be simple."

The fairy cut a vicious figure-eight in the air. "You _foolish, stupid_ girl," she hissed. "You have damned us all."

A gust of wind pushed across the corral, heralding a wave of rolling heat.

"That was Link, truly?" Malon ventured, pushing her hair from her eyes.

Navi bit her lip. "It's what Link became."

"I was supposed to give it back," the ranch maid reminisced, "he made me promise to-"

Navi flashed. "So you have it?" she asked.

Malon frowned through eyes that had seen too many tears, and yet threatened more. "Only for him, he said."

"He's _dead_ girl. Promises can be broken."

"I buried it, but…why? It's only a keepsake."

Navi frowned and her arms crossed over her tiny form. "It is our _chance_," she said, "our chance."

"And Zelda?" Malon whispered.

The little fairy's eyes closed as a shadow, impossibly dark against the sun and her own glimmer, passed across her face. "She is gone. _Really _dead. You killed her."

000

The air tasted like…like…

Dirt.

Well of course it did. His mouth was barely a hand's breath from the coarse earth of the ditch. It smelt warm, and somewhat comforting, like a childhood spent studying ants on a farm outside Clocktown. At any moment his mother would call him for dinner and he'd skip happily inside…

To kill moblins.

He could hear the creatures grunting and snarling as they approached down the parched road. That's why he was here, groveling in the dirt with a dozen Aratians. To obliterate this patrol before they could return and bolster the Castletown defences. Something (hopefully not a centipede) crawled across his neck, yet to shoo it would move the dirty burlap which shielded him, so Leon did nothing. The moblins grew closer, the creature on his neck began investigating beneath his collar, and Leon still did nothing.

_I am a corpse, _he thought_, merely a corpse in the ditch. One of a hundred other corpses you've passed today. Just keep marching, just keep marching, just keep marching…_

The heavy, booted tread was beside him now, and he could hear the swaying creak of armor and weapons, the heavy breath of straining moblin. Leon's nostrils flared as the smell of dry earth fled before that of sweaty monster, and his friend on his neck fled between his shoulder blades. Whether it had sensed his tension or merely wanted a darker lair he would never know, but the result was a sudden squirm and yelp.

Above him, a moblin roared in warning, and Leon knew, with that wonderful sense possessed by all soldiers, that the game was up. He roared too, surging up from beneath the burlap, naked sword in hand. In that moment, a few actions ahead of his Aratian company, he was one man against a score of foes, a lone warrior ready to avenge his fallen prince.

Arrows, fletched with goose quills dyed red, streaked into the knot of foes, staggering some and felling others. One moblin skewered an Aratian struggling to rise, only to take a sword thrust in the chest as it bellowed in triumph. Leon paused to make sure the archers had finished loosing their ordinance, and then lunged forward into the engagement. The sight of moblin blood and the memories it brought fed his killing instinct, and he attacked without mercy.

Men and monster fought. Some died on both sides, but the result had been determined before the first arrow had struck its mark. When it was finished, a score of moblin lay motionless upon the ground, and Leon cleaned his sword on a patch of long crab grass.

"Why did you move before the signal?" an Aratian asked him in the characteristic harsh accent. "Jeof and Kan weren't ready, now they are dead."

Instead of answering Leon sheathed his sword and pulled the leather glove from his hand. With a grimace he cocked his head to the side and snaked his fingers into the narrow gap between his neck and collar.

"Bloody centipede," he said, and pulled the mangled corpse of the insect out of his clothing for inspection. It's head, fangs probably still buried in his flesh, stayed behind.

The Aratian snorted. "You let a _bug_ destroy our plan and get two of my men killed?"

Leon's hand slithered back into his shirt as he turned. "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy," he muttered, "that goes double for Hylian centipedes."

The Terminian kicked a moblin torso, mad at himself, mad at the world. He'd lunged right to the centre of the skirmish to distract the creatures from the other men, yet somehow he'd survived and some of the Aratians had not. Just as somehow he'd been knocked unconscious, and Garret…

"You on the road, lay down your weapons!"

Leon and the captain spun about, searching for the source of the command. Yet the road was vacant and the country beyond was a rolling sea of knee-high grass. Slowly they turned to face the hillock behind which their own archers had hidden, and the Aratian began muttering exotic-sounding curses under his breath.

Their men stood upon the rise, bows at their feet and hands in the air. Behind them a dozen more Aratians tensed with swords at the ready. Leon didn't recognize them from the camp he'd vacated that morning, and judging from the curses of the man beside him, they were not part of the Aratian resistance.

"How quickly victory becomes defeat," the voice shouted again, "but then again, you have a Terminian with you. He should know of such things!"

"Jest?" the captain called incredulously. "You would dare show your face?"

A man stepped sideways away from the clump of soldiers, and threw an easy salute in the direction of the road. He was average in every way that mattered, yet the easy confidence he projected was that of a leader.

"I am I, just as you are you. I the advantage, you the disadvantage. Put down your weapons."

"Like hell," the captain replied, and Leon glanced to him in surprise. Below them, the moblin corpses stared sightlessly into the distance, oblivious to the tensions being played out around them.

Then Leon frowned, as the name 'Jest' sifted through his memory. It was familiar somehow, as if he'd heard it before…

Suddenly, it clicked.

"Where is Zelda?" he shouted, "What have you done, you little Aratian prick?"

He began to advance, the steel in his hand matched by that in his eyes. The captain matched him step for step, and his men followed.

"I simply want to talk," Jest said, and at a gesture his men withdrew down the hillock, leaving the archers to pick up their bows.

"You wish to talk now," the captain asked incredulously. "You have chosen a side, Jest. It is not ours."

"Two days ago, Arawn's manor was destroyed by a pack of moblins," Jest replied. "None survived."

"Cover them!" the captain yelled to his bowmen, and they turned and drew a bead on the intruders.

"The wife," Jest continued, ignoring the sudden threat to his person, " of every soldier here was in the manor. To ensure loyalty, you understand."

Beside Leon, the captain nodded in sympathy. "So you wish-"

"We've come to get ourselves killed," Jest interrupted, "in your stupid, foolish rebellion. Or you could just save us some trouble and order your archers to shoot. We get what we want either way."

"Zelda!" Leon broke in once again. "What happened to the princess?"

Jest's head swiveled until his eyes were locked with the Terminians, his strange half-smile still twitching the corners of his lips. "Would you hear a riddle, oh enemy of my enemy? Be warned, I do not know the answer."

"Speak," Leon said, and his fingers tightened around his sword.

Jest sheathed his own sword with a flourish. "A princess, a demon, a dying king, and a Hylian traitor walk into a temple. The earth quakes, the sky shakes, and only two, the traitor and a Gerudo giant, walks out. The body of the king is in the temple, yet the other two are not. Explain."

Leon frowned, the wheels of his mind spinning with questions. "This giant-"

"He calls himself Ganondorf," Jest replied before the question could be asked, "and there is a glowing triangle on his left hand."

Leon froze, the warm summer day forgotten as cool fear caressed his heart. "They are dead then," he said. "We are all dead."

"Agreed," Jest shrugged, "although it does remain to us, I hope, to choose _how_ we die."

He closed his eyes and turned his face to the warm sun, drinking it in with the air of a men who did not expect to appreciate it for much longer.

"I for one," he said, "have a few ideas."

000

Author's Note:

Before I begin, I'd like to say that I am well aware that Cash covered "Hurt", and the original is by Reznor. I just happen to hate Reznor's version, so I feel perfectly justified in using the Cash version to set the tone for the previous chapter. While I appreciate the people who took the time to enlighten me about my mistake, I wish they wouldn't have sent me reviews on the messiest chapter I've ever written _that are only concerned with the quote at the beginning._ It was definitely a blow to my pride. :-)

Some of you expressed confusion about Saria's role in the last chapter. If Ganondorf 'infected' Link, then he also 'infected' Saria, and she was simply in a more advanced stage. Of course, her very nature rejected it (and she lacked a Triforce piece), so the stress of possession was destroying her.

I don't know what you think of him, but I love writing Leon. He has such strange release mechanisms for stress, and he always ends up in weird situations. Malon, on the other hand, is much more difficult, but then again I haven't had a couple hundred pages to figure out who she is.

I'm (obviously) writing shorter chapters from here on out, and I'm also keeping less of a buffer. We are close, much closer than I thought I'd ever get.

-Celeborn00


	81. Chapter 79

Chapter 79

The throne was iron cold, a savage, primeval shape hammered from slag by some great forge. It glistened, oily against the flickering flames, against the ring of surrounding torches.

_Something_ sat upon the throne, a dark scepter clutched in a vice-like claw. _Something_, bleeding freely from the abuses of an iron crown, glared out across the assembled moblins.

"In the beginning there was darkness," _it_ said. "Darkness was over the face of the deep."

"In the beginning there were the Goddesses," it said, "the great traitors. They spat into the deep, the chaos, and the world was born."

Frozen, the moblins stood with blank eyes fixed on the throne. They did not move, did not breath, indeed their chests neither rose nor fell. They were waiting, _anticipating_, and listening.

"But why were _they_ the Goddesses?" itsaid. "Only because they were first?"

Clawed fingers gripped the sides of the throne, sinking into the cold metal. "They do not love," came the hiss, "at least not creatures such as you or I. They are not all-powerful, or at least they have not proven it. We kill and maim, suffer and die, and they simply _watch_."

The moblins were entranced, brass rings hanging motionless from porcine nostrils. The thingon the throne held their entire attention, and they seemed poised, as if waiting for permission.

"Why do we still worship them? Why do we believe the lies?"

Itpulled the crown lower, sinking iron spikes into its scalp. Blood formed rivulets around a nose and over lips.

"And the Goddesses set mortals upon the earth, and said 'Be at peace' yet there was only war. They said 'Love' and yet there was only hate. They said 'Be wise' and yet desired only power."

A hundred eyes followed the trickle of sanguine liquid down its face and neck, the only motion within the circle of flame.

"What is it that makes you evil?" the voice shouted. "What is it that made me _good_?"

Suddenly there was motion. Muscles tensed and eyes focused at some hidden signal. The moblins crowded inward around the throne, and yet still they shied from the figure upon it.

"Damn them for what that did! Damn them for what they have done! Damn them!"

Somethingfell forward from its seat, both legs crumpling at unnatural angles. _He_ was a pool of darkness before an iron throne, a pool of tears on the stone. The moblins surged…slavering…anticipating_…_

"Make it stop!" he cried, "Make it _end_!"

And the circle closed upon him like the drawing of a noose. Weapons, fists, feet hammered into the center of the mass, and the roaring of monsters drowned out the screams of the abused.

Beyond the sweating, struggling mass of flesh, the torches choked out, one by one, until none remained.

Once again, darkness lay over the face of the deep.

000

The arena glowed with the heat of a blazing forge, its sandy floor capturing and insulating the brilliant sun. The crowd's scream for blood was a thunderous yet distant roar, a distraction from the business at hand.

The two combatants circled. One was a Gerudo with flat, dead eyes, the other was a Hylian wrapped in rags. His knives drank in the glare, her scimitars glittered with it. He squinted against the light; she no longer needed to.

Faces twisted and distorted in the crowd, growing snouts, bristles, fangs. Parts of the gallery dissolved in glistening confusion, then reformed with different seats and different spectators. A tremor shook the arena floor and the man in rags crouched to steady himself.

The Gerudo rode the violence without effort, indeed she and the sand seemed to shift as one.

"Finish it," the man in rags said. "I am broken!"

There was no response in the woman's eyes, yet her blades flashed out with deadly purpose. Old habit brought his knife to intercept the steel, yet the scimitar cut through it like butter. The first weapon buried itself in his arm, the second in his chest, and he cursed hoarsely as he sank into the dust.

"Finish it," he said again.

The Gerudo obliged by taking off his head.

000

_We are the substance of chaos._

The hand wrapped gently around his, dwarfing his gauntlet in immensity.

_We are the memory of the deep._

He sighed, and the air hissed from his lungs in acquiescence to the inevitable.

_Together, we are the beginning and the end._

He felt a cool breath on his upturned face, and shivered at the eternal touch.

_They shall crush our head, and we shall strike their heel_

He felt the hand guide his upward and inward, until he felt a cool sliver of ice between sternum and shoulder.

_But soon…_

He coughed, and the sliver cut between muscle and bone, sinking deep into the secrets of his chest. Face tightening, hand trembling, he pushed back against the steel. And it plunged deeper, deeper, until his hand was against his own flesh and he could breath no longer.

_Surrender, _the darkness crooned, and the hand shoved forward with bone-crunching force. He grunted the remaining air from his lungs, and only fluid replaced it.

_Surrender! _it ordered, and his chest crumbled against the irresistible power. Another midnight fist closed over his head, and Demon's eyes shut for the last time.

_Surrender!_

000

A thousand deaths. Strangled, choked, stabbed, and executed. Burnt and drowned, trampled and hanged.

He died them all and then died them again. He lost every battle, surrendered to every executioner, welcomed every attack.

And yet he always came back.

He fought in the arena for days, weeks, months, centuries, and yet it would not stop. Such had been the violence of his life that he never fought the same opponent twice, indeed he did not even remember most of their faces or deaths. They killed him, and yet he could not rest.

They murdered him, and yet it _did not end_.

He wept until there were no tears. He screamed until he could not scream. He bled until there was no more to bleed, and when he was utterly empty…

It began again.

000

A moment and a millennia away, by another star in another world, a breeze cooled a summer evening.

It carried puffs of dust through the rosy streets of Clocktown in an idle dusk tradition, sweeping the sandstone streets clean. A gull, blown astray from the sea by some relative of the breeze, cried out, lifting hearts and minds from domestic tasks. The day was done, the city was beginning to sweep towards slumber, and men and carts rumbled through the streets on their daily retreat to home and hearth.

Kashi leaned gingerly on the wooden railing, aware of the portions he'd already cracked on previous evenings. In the distance the Clocktower blotted out a thin strip of the sky, and he studied its massive face. Two days before he'd heard three bells sound somewhere within its mechanism. He had considered it a good omen.

Katie was seated on a wooden chair that took up a full quarter of their narrow balcony, scribbling away on a scrap of paper backed by the largest (and only) book they owned: the Book of the Maiden. In recent months the volume had been required to perform a whole host of new duties, including stepping stool, spider squasher, and drawing pad for Kashi's wife.

"Don't you fall through that railing and get killed," Katie warned. "It would wreck a beautiful evening."

Kashi smiled, leaning a little harder against the groaning timber. "And don't you draw my ugly mug in front of it," he replied, "or it'll be ruined anyway."

"I can't with your gut blocking the view," his wife said, but she grinned so winningly that Kashi could only grin back.

Her charcoal scratched against paper in subtle motion, tracing shapes that only she could see. Kashi tightened his stomach just a little, in case she did happen to be tracing his profile.

"If Zelda were here, we could paint," Katie murmured.

Kashi raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know—"

"She told me once," his wife cut him off. "Before the wedding."

"And what would you paint?"

Katie smirked. "Our idiot husbands, of course." She wrinkled her nose and jerked the charcoal across the page. Within moments the sheet was a ball of crinkle at her feet.

"That," Kashi rumbled, "would take a miracle."

"They'll get married during the Festival," Katie said, ignoring him. "And for one day they'll open up the Hidden City to _anybody_ who wants to visit, and I'll be one of the bridemaidens. _You'll_ have to stop the groom from trying to escape at the last moment when he realizes what happens when you marry a princess!"

"Wouldn't they get married in Castletown?" Kashi said.

Katie frowned and scribbled something on the paper before her. "Teiresius would perform the ceremony," she continued, "and Demon would be too shy to kiss the bride in front of such a crowd…but Zelda would make him." She grinned in a way that made Kashi slightly uneasy.

He looked at her, then flinched as the railing gave another protesting groan. "And how long would the marriage last," he asked, "how long could such opposite people stay together?"

Katie laughed. "Forever!" she answered, "Can you not feel it? They are two halves to the same apple, the same note in a different key. They are _meant_ to be together!"

"It would be a good fairy tale," Kashi said, and he looked up to the lonely gull in the evening sky, watching it sail away towards the outskirts of the city.

"It would make a good story," he muttered.

000

Author's Note:

I had to dig deep into my philosophical and theological background to write this chapter. I realize that some of you won't appreciate me 'borrowing' phrases from Genesis, but considering that one of my underlying themes is to contrast Hyrule's cosmology against other examples (and to evaluate the goddesses as deities), I think it works well.

I'm not going to explain this chapter, although I'm told by my beta that it's rather confusing. If you as a reader wouldn't mind sharing your own interpretation of what is going on in this chapter as a review, then you can help out your fellow readers and help me gauge whether I was successful in my intentions.

Some of you might also be curious as to why i added the last scene with Kashi and Katie. I think the reasons are fairly clear, although once again I wouldn't mind hearing your opinions.

I'm amused by the image of Demon sitting on Morgoth's throne...but that throne has a far more direct reference, doesn't it? A cookie to the first person who remembers. :-)

-Celeborn00


End file.

Legend of Zelda, Fantasy, Romance