#get him some help y'all

[portsandstars]

First makeup + upper half clothing trial -- waist belt, leg and arm armor, and detailing to go!

Few extra photos below

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Cross' Spy Adventures)

Hi guys! I'm back! This one has been eating at me so forgive me if it's a bit rougher than the others, but I hope you still enjoy! (And if plot details don't seem to line up? Remember Cross has no clue what's going on yet :] )

Context: Cross has been asked by Dream to do recover information on his brother's next plans of attack. He's not a very good spy.

(Hi to @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

Stars this place was big.

He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be on a castle grounds after so many years roughing it with Ink. Inns and taverns and tents. He wasn't sure how much he enjoyed being back in the throes of the rich and powerful's estates.

The cart-ride with the other new recruits had been pleasant enough, they were all decently friendly guys. A few were putting on that tough-guy facade, but none of them could've been older than 25. Fresh off the press, practically. Perfect soldiers to be brainwashed.

Cross had laughed and joked with them about what life in the castle might be like. How different it would be from the old daily grind. How maybe they'd pick up a hot partner in town on their patrols. How they hoped they'd eat like kings.

Though, Cross noticed that each of them got cagey when word of the King resurfaced. One birdish-monster mourned that she couldn't have served the last King, Nim, before she passed on to join the gods. Another spoke of the honor it would bring for him to serve the blood of Nim.

They seemed averse to even acknowledging King Nightmare's existence. Aside from his connection to Nim.

Now, the chatter was all silent, and Cross was among the many new soldiers who were ogling the castle as they passed around its outer wall and entered through a side gate.

It was, admittedly, impressive.

His own home kingdom had less of a castle, more of a monolith. It had been dense, and tall, and impossibly smooth. His father couldn't stand imperfection.

This castle was almost the exact opposite of what Cross had always known. The walls imperfect and overlapping, rather than brick it looked like it had burst straight up from the ground. Bumpy and imperfect and natural, and yet beautiful and structurally stable. He didn't linger on it, but he wanted to so badly.

Instead, he drew his attention ahead. To where a man stood, his armor decorated in the marks which indicated him as a reporting officer.

This man, a human with a crooked nose and a thick, black, beard held up a hand, and the driver of the cart tugged at his reigns, the horses pulling to a slow stop.

One by one, once given the signal, the soldiers filed out. Stating their rank, their camp of origin, and their name.

Cross was middle of the pack, and saluted the human as Dream had taught him and as everyone had done before him.

"1st Year Guard, Pierson Camp, Z." He reported.

He was not proud of his code-name. It physically hurt to say it with a straight face, but when he'd been talking about needing a new code name, Ink had excitedly suggested it.

Z, he'd said, Like 'X' but not! And Cross hadn't been able to shut the idea down when Dream had giggled and tapped his cheekbone, the spot just under his eyelight that held is scar.

Dream had called it fitting, and it'd been settled in a heartbeat.

Cross managed to say it aloud without any hint of suspicion and was waved off to join his fellow recruits.

They lined up haphazardly, but didn't dare to do more than grin and snicker between eachother at. Well. Anything, it seemed. They were taking this very casually compared to what Cross had been expecting.

Though, the moment the captain was done looking to the cart for any stragglers, he turned. The soldiers all went still and aligned themselves.

Cross wondered how they survived training if they goofed off like that so readily.

He watched as the cart which had brought them circled away, and he listened carefully as the man introduced himself.

"I am Captain Rogers. Your platoon will report to me for any and all management. I control your training schedules, your mealtimes, and your work hours." He called out to them, right there on the lawn "you are here today to serve the blood of the gods, and by Nim's watch you will not slack on your oath. No matter how much you loathe it here. Understood?"

Such a bold declaration of... unrest.

The soldiers, one by one, gave affirmative nods and salutes, Cross making sure he wasn't the first. He didn't want to seem too eager.

The captain led them about.

He asked for them to stay in formation, and Cross ended up towards the middle of the pack yet again, just close enough to hear the explanations of their duties, places on the grounds they were allowed to go, and what their daily routine was meant to be like.

Near the stables, they paused briefly, and the Captain was taking an extra long time explaining that the horses in the stables were not to be ridden without explicate orders from him or another commanding officer.

Cross couldn't help but notice the guys ahead of him whispering about something, and Cross followed their miniscule gestures off to the left.

A black cat, wirey and short-hair. It was standing in the shadow of a fence, and he didn't think he would've spotted it if it weren't for its big, green eyes. They were like little saucers in its head.

It was staring straight at him. Tail flicking. One ear twitched.

Cross tried to ignore it, but when he'd glance back, it was still there.

Until, suddenly, it wasn't.

By the time they moved on, it was nowhere in sight.

His old home hadn't had many animals, especially not roaming cats. He wondered if it was a 'barn cat'. Blue had explained the concept to him once.

Regardless, that thing was freaky.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, the Captain announced that their last stop of the night would be to their quarters.

He could practically feel the relief rolling off of the guys next to him, and it took am effort to let his shoulders sag even an inch in imitation. The guy next to him looked like he might fall over, and Cross shared none of that exhaustion.

They would start their assignments bright and early in the morning, each of them would have a more experienced guard join them as a guiding measure before they were left to the duties themselves.

A much kinder grace period than Cross had been expecting, honestly.

The Captain escorted them down the halls, long and twisting. Each one held soldiers out of uniform, turning in for the night, going through their routines. As well as some moving out for the night shift. They ignored the rookies as they kept to their own business.

The Captain swung a door open, only to immediately block the soldiers in front from entering the space of relaxation beyond.

"Ah, Ccino, I was worried we'd missed you." The Captain spoke up.

"Soldiers, back up. Stand at attention." Came an order next.

Cross was faster than the others in recognizing the order, but forced himself to wait until the others stumbled into him to start moving. He wasn't sure why they were getting into this stance, but he knew better than to start asking questions.

They all stood in the hall, and Cross caught a few snickers from nearby lounging guards as the rookies stood there.

"The King called upon me, so I wasn't able to meet you where we had planned," a softer, calm, voice rang, "I figured I would run into you here before you turned in for your first night."

The Captain stood before them, and beside him, exiting the barracks, was a monster.

Cross tried not to stare, but he couldn't deny that this was odd. He'd never known a captain to bend to anyone but a higher up. But...

This skeleton was dressed in a servant's uniform. Granted, it was made of a thick, soft-looking brown and tan fabric, with an apron with more embroidery than he thought he'd ever seen in his life, but it was nothing too out of place.

Surely it wasn't a Knight. No, he'd been told they wore masks. He could tell this skeleton was not a Knight. He could see the full skull, soft and gentle, calm eyelights, and a body Cross swore had never seen a single battle.

No. Cross, stop that.

He didn't tear his eyes away, but he forced himself to look back to the skeleton's shoulder. No eye-contact, but still facing him. Good.

"Soldiers, This is our Head of House, Ccino." The Captain gestured to the skeleton at his side.

The soldiers all remained silent, and the captain nodded.

"If Ccino ever gives you any sort of order, you listen." The Captain's voice was harsh with this, the same way he'd spoken about the horses, and the kitchen, and the private training rooms they'd passed. "No questions, no hesitation, no disobeying. You understand?"

The squint of the Captain's eyes were more than enough for Cross to know better than to ask. Something like this was unfamiliar, for sure, but he knew when a soldier was saying something he truly believed in. Lived by. For better or worse.

None of the other recruits seemed to speak up. Cross certainly didn't. He tried not to let his nerves show as this skeleton, Ccino, let's his soft white eyelights skim softly from one soldier to the next. When they came to him, he desperately avoided the gaze, practically staring a hole into the soft fur scarf wrapped around his neck, hiding his spine from view.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," That calm voice again, "As you heard, my name is Ccino. I manage the Castle, it's grounds, and the people who stay within our walls. This includes all if you, as of tonight."

He seemed rather put-together. Pleasant. Cross didn't feel any unease. He was positive, now, that this was not a Knight. Yet, he couldn't figure out why such a monster would be held in such high regard, unless, of course...

"As you heard, our King trusts my decisions regarding these matters, which is why he asks you listen to my requests. However, I don't abuse this privilege, and it shouldn't dissuade you from coming to me if you have any problems." Ccino pulled his arms to cross infront of him, and once again looked over the recruits. "You may be our guard, but that does not mean you shouldn't recieve help as well. If you cannot find me, ask another servant and they will get word to me."

Ccino seemed... kind. That had to be it.

The sparkle of admiration in the captain's eyes. The way some of the soldiers watched. Maybe Ccino was the golden light in this dark place? Though, that didn't seem quite right.

"Stick to your duties, remain diligent, and you will be cared for here." He said softly. "Now, stand down and go rest. Your training tomorrow will be thorough, and you will need the extra sleep."

Oh.

Cross recognized the order, and his body moved a bit before his mind could catch up. He relaxed, as much as he naturally could, and took a step. Toward the barracks. Then paused and glanced like a deer in the headlights to the Captain and the Head of House.

Ccino just smiled, and the Captain seemed stoic.

"Seems Z gets first dibs on the cots!" The Captain announced, and with his approval, humor seeping into his tone a bit, and laughter echoing from the older guard who'd been observing?

Cross made the quick duck into the room and grabbed for the first cot he saw. Bottom bunk, closest to the door, the easiest way he'd be able to leave the long room of bunk beds.

The others hurried in after him, some laughing, others cursing jokingly at Cross having noticed the test first.

The test.

Of course it'd been a test. A test to see if they'd recognize Ccino as an authority figure. A test to see if they took the warning seriously. Cross just listened to the superior officer. And... put himself in the limelight of excelling new recruits.

If there was one good thing, though it was mortifying, the others didn't seem to notice what it was. They were too busy teasing Cross for the grape blush that enveloped his face the moment he sat to think it over. The others assumed he'd just slipped up. Listened to the prettiest person in the room.

Once again, Cross wondered how they'd made it through training. Though, it was good they just thought he was a stupid lover boy. Better than them realizing he was following orders on instinct.

It'd been a hard sell, getting to sleep, but he'd managed somehow.

.

The morning was much easier than the night prior. He woke up before the sun, before a lot of the others even showed signs of stirring. It was good he got up so early, sneaking off probably wouldn't be much of an issue.

Tomorrow, then. He'd do his sneaking tomorrow, after he got a lay of the land today. From what they'd been told, he'd be supervised today. Everyone would. It was different from what the Prince had told him, but it didn't matter. Policies could change, and Cross knew better than to disobey new policies.

The castle inside felt like a maze yesterday, he'd hopefully have routes inside, so he'd be able to memorize at least a few escapes. Orient himself. Worst case he could break a window.

He didn't want to leave any trace, though. The best scenario, as Dream had explained it, was that he'd get in, get the information, and get out. A week, maybe a week and a half tops. Cross wanted to spend as little time here as possible. He didn't want to fall into whatever mind-control he'd been warned of. He didn't want to run into the Knights. He certainly didn't want to see Dream's twin.

Though, he was curious. What he looked like. If he could see the sibling resemblance between the Prince and his supposedly brainwashed ruler of a sibling. It was honestly none of his business. If the King never saw his face, that would be all the better. He shouldn't know Cross was ever here at all.

The thoughts swirled in hid head as he stared at the bottom of the cot above his. Wood slats, the whole thing was sturdy wood, with decent mattresses and blankets and pillows resting on its support. It didn't creak at all, which was good. And surprising. Everything in the castle seemed so nice.

Mm, must've been a thing for the people here. Serve the 'gods' and live in luxury. It certainly seemed that was how the Prince's camp had run as well.

Cross couldn't be sure how long he was awake, examining the room and sitting still, but the sun managed to rise into the sky by the time he'd heard the slamming knock on the door to the barracks.

It was easy for him. When the Captain swung the door wide open and announced, in a hardy shout, that they were to be in the hall in 5? Cross rolled out of bed the moment the door closed again.

It pained him to move so slowly. He couldn't be the first one out again. Couldn't be the first one dressed. He didn't know why it took so long for the others to change to their uniforms and rub the sleep from their eyes. Monsters and humans alike! They hustled, some of them, and Cross was grateful a cat monster seemed to gather herself more readily than the others. An orange striped cat, her nose and the tip of her tail a stark white. Cross only noticed her when she rushed for the door, and he let himself trail her a moment later.

Thinking back, she'd been at the back of the group yesterday, joking with some of the others. Cross wondered what the energy change was all about.

He didn't get time to worry about it, though. The hall outside the barracks was busier than it had been last night, and Cross found himself facing, not only the Captain, but also several guards. They each seemed to be in full uniform, different than Cross' or the cat's which marked them as trainees. They seemed stoic before their captain, and Cross almost felt a moment if relief. Maybe this was a decent show of artillery?

No, wait, strong soldiers would be bad for the Prince. He'd have to get through these guys.

He shook away the thought, listening in as he stood awkwardly in the hall, another recruit lumbering out to stand where he'd joined the cat already.

The Captain looked them over, before nodding.

"Harper, you're with Jenna." The Captain ordered, pointing from the cat before gesturing towards one of the guard directly behind him.

Cross tried not to let his eyelights give away his observance as the guard stepped around her captain. She seemed to be a bunny monster, lots of fur and long, floppy ears tied behind her head. She, Jenna, saluted the cat, Harper, and Harper saluted in return.

"Listen to what your mentor tells you, got it?" The Captain asked, and Cross saw a few others exiting as he said this.

Those who started moving down the hall, and the Capatin looked to Cross. It was a kick glance, one look-over, before he turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Z, you're with Shep." And a gesture guided Cross towards whoever his mentor for the day would be.

From nearly the back of the crowd, snaked a dog monster. Black and white, short-trimmed fur. His eyes were brown and intense, and after a moment Cross realized this guard was shorter than him. He didn't like that when Shep saluted, he had to peer down to salute back.

He hardly even registered that they were already moving off, not unlike the two before them had done, until he'd taken a few steps to follow this small royal guard.

"So, you're Z?" Shep asked him as they stopped a few halls away. This one was largely barren aside from a few servants. Along each wall hung a huge tapestry, woven out of heavy threads and hung by a long piece of metal along the top edge.

"Yes, sir." Cross responded shortly. Not giving himself a moment to stammer.

Shep looked at his quizzically, before he leaned forward and sniffed. Actually just sniffed at Cross. It was still a few inches away, they didn't make contact, but suddenly he worried he was stinky. He's bathed before hopping on the cart, and he hadn't been exercising much, surely-

"Ah, you're not from this Kingdom! Not originally, at least." Shep said then, leaning away just as quickly as he'd gotten close.

Cross blinked, and he was sure his skull didn't hide his shock as well as he'd hoped. "I can smell the pollen on you, newbie. We don't have those kinda plants in this kingdom." He explained, and Cross internally cursed himself. Would he have to run? Would he have to-

"You know, I'm not from this kingdom either, I was born to the west." Shep admitted then, easily, using a paw to gesture loosely at the space between them, "I bet we'll get along just fine, newbie. C'mon. I'll show you around your route."

Cross didn't even get a spare second to defend himself, or puzzle at why a foreign monster would choose to come here. Shep was already on his way, back turned and hurrying down the hall at a brisk pace.

"As far as I know You're gonna be taking over my old route, inner portion of the castle." Cross listened, but orders were his second nature. As they walked, he eyed the tapestries hung along the wall. Long and intense, and yet, there was a moment where Cross could see the colors were more faded and worn.

"You'll mostly just be patrolling, watching out for anything out of the ordinary, waiting to see if you're needed for any specific duties." The images showed monsters, humans, monsters again. Depictions of complex circles and red splashes dripping from weapons and hands. And he noticed a trend, eventually. These must've been the previous rulers. The past Kings.

"Your patrols will be alone, the rooms in the hall aren't too important, and it's mostly servants that pass through that way." Cross almost lost his rhythm as they drew to the end of the tapestry, though the hall kept moving. There on the tapestry was a depiction of two little skeletons, one which seemed strikingly similar to Prince Dream, even in his adulthood. Beyond, the tapestry simply stopped. It was odd that King Nightmare hadn't bothered to get it finished with his own visage. Maybe his puppetmaster was waiting to put himself there instead?

"Still important, anyways. The servants halls are the easiest ways in and out of the castle, so we can't slack off." They turned a corner, and Cross pried his eyes away from the tapestry and back before him.

They passed a few more halls, before Shep stopped dead in his tracks, and Cross reacted quickly, spotting the way he peaked around the next corner.

Across the way, Cross spotted that they'd run into another pair who had also stopped. Only when Shep saluted did Cross think to follow his lead.

From the hall he couldn't see, emerged a figure.

Cross kept his eyelights to the ground, but the steps, the shoes, the heavy cape, and especially the dark and slimey tendrils which snaked along in his wake? That was the King. The one Dream had been so particular about not running into at all.

Two sets of feet followed him. Closely. He didn't have to look up to recognize that they must've been Knights. The easy weight of their steps, how close they stuck behind the king, the weight of the one's magic? Surely. He didn't risk a glance until after Shep lifted his head again. Cross only caught a glimpse of a tiger mask turning another corner before the three figures were gone.

In the tense silence, Cross swore he could hear his soul beating. He wasn't sure if it was fear, or indignance, or something else, but he knew being so close to the King had not made him feel good. Dream had been right, something about that guy was wrong.

Shep glanced around, and his ear twitched, watching down the hall where they'd left to.

The group across from them was already moving, towards the hall Cross had just cone from.

"You know, you kids are lucky Newbie." Shep voiced then, eying up the human rookie who was passing by. "When I first joined the guard, the King cut my tail off to prove my loyalty."

He said it so easily that Cross was speechless. What did he mean? Was. His tail was docked, but...

"What?!" The panicked whisper came from the passing humans who had obviously been eavesdropping. He expressed the concern coating Cross's soul and freezing him in place.

"Yep. I heard he used it as a cat toy for the strays." Shep confirmed loosely.

"Shep." Came the snap of his name from the other trained guard, though they didn't move to deny his claim.

Cross hadn't heard anything about that from Dream. Of course, he also hadn't heard about this introduction process either. He was flying blindly here, and suddenly he feared for his limbs.

Shep simply shrugged and kept moving forward. Cross wanted, badly, to excuse himself right this moment and go back and claim he couldn't do it. But he was here now, and he had a Prince to help. And a whole lot of people relying on him to prevent more tragedies.

The training wasn't hard. Shep stood with him, made small-talk, told him all the tricks to ensure he knew when someone would switch off with him, and then they had lunch.

He hated to admit it, but the food was delicious. He hadn't had something so filling in... maybe ever. He couldn't put his finger on it, not quite, but for monster food, it felt solid. Warmer. He felt less hungry after, and a part of him wondered if that was how they did it. The mind control. Was it the food?

But, no, surely not. He was still set on his mission when he went right back to his rounds. The food was just... strangely good.

The rest of the rounds were easy. Simple. And there was at least an hour after where Shep willingly guided him through the rest of the building. At least, anywhere he could.

Cross noticed, once, that Shep broke a rule. He ducked into the kitchen. Returned to a surprised Cross with two pieces of bread and handed one to Cross before tearing into his own. Apparently, from what Shep said, the main kitchen wasn't off-limits. Not really. Just the private one.

He didn't ask about the difference, he wouldn't need to know, after all. He doubted plans of attack were stached in the cupboards of a pantry.

And just as swiftly as it had begun, it ended. Shep said he'd be around the training grounds tomorrow if Cross needed him, and released him to dinner. After Dinner, Cross went back to the barracks.

Many of the rookies were talking all about their routes, others complaining that they had gotten cleaning duties for being the last out of the barracks that morning. They'd start training tomorrow. Cross tried not to contribute much, but he liked listening in. Understanding more about the place. The people.

It sounded like the King had crossed quite a few of their paths as well, and they didn't seem happy about it. Discussing in hushed tones how weird the King was compared to the last. Dark, secretive, hardly even a ruler. Cruel. He heard the human from before shamelessly telling Shep's tail misfortune to the gathered group, who all seemed to be riled up by it, exchanging other horrible speculations.

He needed to get this information. He just... he couldn't do anything until the others were asleep. So. Morning it would be.

.

Cross was a coward.

He knew as much, deep down somewhere, but as he woke up early again, he thought through his plan. He didn't know where he'd find any of this information he needed, he didn't know anything beyond his own route. He didn't even know what he'd be finding. He'd know when he found it, he was sure, but the last thing he wanted to do was get caught

He should've excused himself during dinner to go search around, or chosen a buddy to go wandering with. Shep had told him some things, he knew the room where the Knights trained was the indoor room, and he knew some areas no one went to. He knew the hall where the Knights and King stayed, Cross found it interesting they all stayed nearby, and he'd promised himself he'd avoid the space like the plague. He knew so much, and so little, all at once.

And he waited, thinking, so long that he... he just got up as the others did. Moved to his station to rotate shifts with the night guards. He just... did his duties again.

Well, they weren't his duties. He had no obligation to be here, not really. But the Prince had told him a week. A week and a half. That would make the most sense for an in and out. So, he wanted to respect that. And he had orders now to act out. Surely if he slacked off it'd be noticed, right? Yeah. He'd just slip away before dinner and say he went to train a bit more. Peak into some doorways. No biggy. Surely.

He worried about what he'd do to pick up a slack he hadn't even lost, all day. All through his rounds. If he showed it, his replacement at his last post said nothing, and waved him off.

Cross wanted so desperately to go searching. But. Before he could pass by the hall which would lead to the mess hall for the servants and guard? He glimpsed them from down the adjoining hall.

Two of the Knights.

One with a hood obscuring his face, casting a heavy shadow over everything, his eyelights a dull white. Though he didn't see a mask at first glance, Cross had to make some assumptions based on the one beside him that they were both Knights.

The other had on leather training armor, and a tiger's mask, red ribbons hanging from it, swaying with weight. He could see the skeleton's grin peaking from beneath the mask, and noticed how the tiger draped an arm over the other and laughed.

Cross didn't even give them a second to notice him, swiftly stepping out of the corridor and towards the dining halls after all. He didn't want to get in the way. He didn't want to be on their radar.

He needed to know when they trained. When they'd all be occupied so he wouldn't have to worry about them catching him off-guard.

Off guard. Ink would be having a hayday with that one if he'd made that joke back at camp.

Cross just kept moving forward, ducking into the dining space before the Knights even reached that hall.

.

Three days. It took him 6 whole days to learn more. To learn where the information might be. To learn where the Knights usually were at any given time. To learn how to navigate the place better. To not worry about getting caught.

He'd gone back to Shep one day, to test if he'd be told to go off the dinner or if he'd be sought out. He was not, so he had his proof that no one cared so long as he was doing his rounds.

He'd sat and talked. Asked about the Knights. (Shep had little to say that Cross didn't already know). Asked about training. (Shep said he was always out here now, running routines.) Asked about the king.

And Shep was interested about him asking on the King. Cross almost fumbled, but said he'd heard a lot of rumors. Shep had been here a while. What was true?

And Shep told him stories. In a low voice. Of the King breaking spines, of throwing objects with his tendrils, of sentencing folks to death over minor transgressions. Of his ruthless rule and cruel first. How he brought in servants and guards by force. Ripping them from their homes. How the king would declare traitors and have them hung.

Eventually, Cross asked him to stop. He'd heard enough.

Some of those things he'd heard from Dream, or the folks back at that encampment. Others were new. Insider information. Things he'd never dreamed of.

It was informational, and Cross decided that he'd keep learning more, until he was sure he had the perfect moment to strike.

.

He wasn't the smartest, okay?

Cross had done his rounds, and the moment he was done, he scurried off towards his destination.

He paid no mind to servants or guards, and used a servant's hall to arrive in the location he needed. The hall where the King's Study was located.

Yesterday he'd investigated the war room. Entering and closing the doors behind him, the room had been a mess of papers and figures and notes. The maps of each neighboring kingdom alone were strewn on walls, like the ravings of a mad-man. None of them had plans of attack, though. The light from his eyelights had been enough to illuminate each one as he approached. Every single one was a new defensive plan. Ways to deploy troops if they were attacked. Not one seemed unprovoked which was... strange.

Cross was almost unable to find any sign of the King's next route of action for his destructive feats, so he was resigned to search the study tomorrow. His only solace was that exiting the War Room had only been met with a servant a ways down the hall, and a cat pacing by, paying him no mind.

The cats in this place were many. Cross had never seen so many cats in one place, and when he'd asked at dinner, it seemed that everyone thought they belonged to the Head of House, Ccino.

It would make sense, Cross had seen the embroidery along his apron, plenty of paws and cat-like figures along the hemlines, between the branch and tree motif the entire building seemed set on holding tight to. But, it amazed him that there would be so many, allowed to run free. The King must've been very lenient with his Head of House, to allow so many creatures free-roam.

...then again, the Knights wore masks decorated with Big Cats. Cross had finally caught a glimpse of the Lion, out on the lawn while he was talking to Shep. He carried an Axe twice the size of Cross' torso, and he seemed to wield it with hardly any problem. Cross just hoped the little beasts weren't being sacrificed. He'd heard about the barbaric practices from Ink once when he had his head on straight. He hadn't had the guts to bring it up to the Prince. Or Shep. Fearing the answer.

And so, now, he moved for the study. When he knew no one would be around, when no one would see him or bother him. He could dig through the information, tuck it away in his ribcage, and get out of dodge.

It was mid-day. Apparently the Knights tended to have training about now, and the King always supervised. So the forbidden hall, as the others called it, was dead and silent.

It wasn't hard to determine which door was the study, the door was carved carefully with a beautiful tree, and the handle was a shining gold, as though it got less use than the other rooms. He tested the handle, it moved, and he slipped inside.

Of course it wouldn't be locked. Who would have the guts to go snooping around in the private spaces of murderous tyrant kings? Well. Cross would, but that was besides the point.

The inside was lit by a few stray candles, and Cross tried not to marvel at the luxury of the room. Everything was carved out of dark wood, with golden fabric lacing the cushions of lounge seats and the curtains which covered the windows. It was darker, used, but still gorgeous. The daylight filtered in through an open window, giving it a warm ambience. Cross didn't know how a room used by such an unpleasant man would be so calm and soft.

There was a case along one wall, large and long. Hung inside were masks of all different shapes and styles. Some were decorated with swirls and gems, but most resembled animals. A crane, a swan, a horse, a sheep, a hawk, a wolf, they all stared out at him with blank, empty, sockets. He wondered if these were used or not, but they seemed untouched.

And beside that case, in the far corner, sat a heavy desk, with bookshelves filled to the brim tucked just behind it.

The desk was heavy, and it looked to be covered with papers, letter drafts, just a quick glance over the contents told Cross this was just what he needed.

He stood behind the desk, unable to stop himself from lifting the papers up into his hands. From here he could see the door, as well. He'd know if someone was coming.

The first paper he looked at seemed to be the draft of a letter, addressed to someone by the name of Crop. The handwriting was beautiful, and Cross was lucky Ink knew how to write in so many dialects, or he'd have trouble deciphering exactly what this was saying. The cursive was precise. And... it seemed a half-finished letter asking about plants. The state of a harvest? No, that's strange.

Cross lifted the few pages which had been tucked beneath the first, confused. These ones seemed to be written in a much more unsure writing, but they held what he could only call sketches. Showing clouds and plants and... fields? Cross wasn't familiar with farming, but he could recognize a field anywhere. The paper had a few words underlined and circled, and they seemed to be later additions, added overtop by someone else. The words seemed to be mentioned again in the letter draft? It was completely innocuous. If this was the King's letter, he was just asking about the wellbeing of a farmer's harvest. Asking about improvements.

He moved them hastily into a stack and set them aside, reaching for the next haphazard bundle of paper. That couldn't have been right.

The next piece he scooped up was in that same pretty cursive, but this time it wasn't a letter. Instead it was some sort of list. Locations, some crossed off, and some untouched. Was this what he was searching for? Surely this was it.

He moved to grab the next page that had been beneath it. It held more context, it seemed. Notes scribbled down about how these towns needed changes. Action. Cross looked to the first crossed-off name, one he recognized from one of the woman at Dream's encampment.

The paper read of a faulty justice system, a lawman who needed to be checked up on for counts of bribery and false accusations. She'd said the Knight, the tiger, had arrived and asked for their head of city guard, the one who enforced rules and kept peace in their small village. Two days later he was killed, replaced by someone the King installed, and he started jailing innocent folks.

Cross looked to the next one, a pass where travel had been haunted by the royal guard. He'd been told they'd done it to halt people from mining in the area, a crop of wealth the King wanted to hoard. But this said that it was a mountain pass with frequent and dangerous rocks lines thanks to a sudden increase in storms since his rule. Notes reminding of supplies, and pay, and signs. Signs.

The next was not crossed off. An issue of bandits ransacked the town when people would enter or exit. Notes in messier scrawl seemed to pose solutions. Ideas. One that was circled said 'Send Horror, Autumn'. It was nearing the end of summer now.

This did seem to be the list that Dream had suggested existed, my twin is organized, he'll have a list with extensive notes, but he'd said nothing about the way the list wouldn't actually contain anything incriminating.

He skimmed again, but it seemed like nothing harmful. One lower down even acknowledged a damage caused during some sort of raid and to divert funds to someone. A random shopkeep in an outer city. This didn't add up at all.

He folded the paper silently and stuffed it into his armor, but kept looking. No doubt there would be something else. One of the lower pieces, something hidden away.

But the papers atop the desk seemed just as helpful in nature. Even ones like drafted decrees or laws to impose later were not unreasonable. One even seemed to propose a ban on child labor. What kind of tyrant would pass up a chance for easy workers?

Digging through the drawers revealed nothing more, just an impressive collection of quills, ink, and more books it seemed didn't fit on the shelves behind him. He wouldn't find anything more useful than these documents, he was sure. He... he just hoped the Prince would be able to see whatever evil Cross was obviously missing here. He scooped up another piece, one of the decrees, and then the letter draft to that Crop. Maybe they could speak to him? No, the planning was up to Dream. He was just here to get the information and go.

And now that he had it...

Cross sighed a bit, he couldn't understand why these were the things in here. In this innermost sanctum where only the trusted went. Everyone feared this King so much, Dream claimed he and his master were such a threat. And yet all Cross could find was a record of damages, and a plan to enact damage control. It...

"Having some trouble finding the dirt?"

Cross felt his entire soul freeze up as the voice cut through the silent room. It was quiet, and deep, and a bit gravelly. He didn't recognize it, but that didn't matter, because he knew he had been alone.

Almost all at once, a wave of presence crashed over his awareness. That damp static that had passed by once in the hall. Trailing the King. He didn't have to look up to know it was one of the Knights somewhere before him.

"Our King isn't usually one to make a mess." The voice said again, calmly.

Cross dragged his eyelights up, hands tentatively hovering at his sides. There, sat comfortably on one of the chairs, was the hooded one. Dust, Shep had told him.

Now, despite the shadow cast by his hood, Cross could see the faint details of his panther mask, black and hidden away in the darkness of his cover. He seemed entirely at-ease, not a care in the world, watching Cross. If his soul hadn't been sinking into his gut, Cross would've even thought Dust found the situation humorous.

He steeled himself, watching. Could he try and bluff his way out of this? Somehow? How long had Dust been there? How much had he seen?

"Any chance you'd believe I was looking for a good book?" Cross asked, though the bold humor he'd attempted to channel in the way Ink had done so many times before fell flat. Maybe his growing panic was clouding his mind, or maybe he'd never been much of a comedian.

Dust just stared at him, tilting his head a bit. By the way his eyelights changed shape, Cross imagined his sockets had drooped to give an unamused stare. Not a great sign.

"Are you going to try and run, or can I catch a break today?" Dust just asked across the room.

Mm. Cross didn't have much of a choice here anymore. Dream had told him, drilled it into his skull, not to get caught. Especially not by the Knights. They'd torture him. Kill him. The stories of what they did to traitors... Cross couldn't let this knight get hold of him. Couldn't be trapped. He had to get out of here.

He promised Ink he'd be back.

With that thought, his sword summoned to his hand in a flash. It was big, and bulky, and not the best for an indoor fight, but he'd make due. He just needed to get away from this guy. That was all.

His summons was clearly a declaration of intent, because he heard Dust scoff over the rush of adrenaline running through him and roaring through his ears. All at once, the electric charge in the room seemed to up itself. Bones, blue, cracked downwards from the rafters and planted themselves sturdy before the door and the window. His two possible exits. Dust stood up and stretched his arms before him.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Dust voiced, then.

Cross nearly let his guard down in the first moment. He felt a charge of energy coming from his side, and narrowly vaulted over the desk to avoid the spiked and jagged bones which rose where his feet had just been planted.

Momentum carried him now, and his sword was already poised for attack before his mind quick processed it. He slashed at Dust, growing rapidly closer. Hid swing was met with pure white bones that stopped his swing, just enough for Dust to avoid the hit with a split second to spare.

He was quiet, as they fought. As Cross lunged and spun and threw himself forward with grunts of exertion. It was unsettling, how the only noises were the cracks of his magic ripping into existence or Cross's sword cracking them to pieces like a lumberjack's axe.

He kept his attention on Dust. The magic had a pattern. The room was buzzing ambiently, and right before an attack it was like being too close to a fire. Just briefly. Cross barely managed to avoid spearing his ankle thanks to the crackle. He wished he could be a bit faster, though. Cross couldn't feel where an attack was aiming like he normally could. Dust gave no indications as to where an attack would be channeling either, almost like he wasn't controlling them at all. He didn't like it, it was unpredictable, and was wearing him down fast.

Dust kept dodging his swings, no matter how fast he moved, and eventually Cross stumbled. His shoulder connected with one of the random jutting bones. Dust stepped back just before it pierced upwards, and Cross grunted in distress as it drove him back a step as to not get impaled.

That was apparently his mistake. The moment he wasn't close to Dust, bones seemed to crop up all around him, gutting at different angles, just barely piercing the bone, little cracks forming with the force. Cross could feel each one jab a bit deeper than the last. Each time he reversed to get away from one or break away an incoming volley, another would arrive behind him at a new angle.

He hated that Dust stood back. Watched. The only sign that he had even broken a sweat was a slight heaviness to the up and down of his shoulders, and while Cross hadn't lost much HP yet, he was starting to feel the exhaustion creep closer, and each little wound and crack seemed to be draining him. Was this the strategy? Play with him like a living pin-cushion? Was this it's own sort of-

Cross shifted his stance and unsummoned his weapon as he jumped up and out of the quickly growing ring of spikes. He had to act fast. He had to get out of here.

He grumbled a bit under his breath, he didn't like trying to do this, but...

The moment his feet landed, Cross summoned up his other piece of magic. The part his father had embedded into his soul early on in his life which made him so powerful. He was sure his normally white eyelight changed shape in the split second it happened. Red, bright red.

It only took a moment, a tug at the very being, hidden away in the Knight's chest. For a split second, he could feel the control of foreign magic slip into his own hands.

For a moment, it worked just as he knew it would. His fist trembled under the effort, keeping an eye on Dust as the other seemed to stare at him. The bones he'd summoned all seemed to sink away at once, recalled faster than Cross could've hoped. Dust seemed to feel his magic stop responding to him.

Cross just needed to get the Knight downed. Not dead. He just needed out.

He shifted stiffly. One, concentrated blast of bones at the Knight. He seemed like he didn't want to risk taking any damage. That was all Cross needed then. Some damage. And he'd be free to escape back to the camp. Away from these weird monsters with their weird magic.

He let his palm open, directing the force like he'd done so many times, channeling another monster's magic against them. Controlling it against their will.

The feeling of electricity rose again. It spiked. It. It gathered in his hand, that burning feeling he felt when an attack had been about to hit him.

What?

It was too late to recall the intent once he'd released it. The moment he tried to command the magic, he felt it all roll back over him. Bones meant to be aimed at their owner came jolting straight at his front. And though he stumbled back, he couldn't escape the searing pain of a fire too hot to process escaping his bones and immediately rushing up his arm, into his chest, down to his feet.

He had to imagine, with the loud sound like a cracking whip, that that was what being struck by lightning felt like. Molten metal in your veins.

Cross laid sprawled, dazed, on the floor as his control magic puttered out. It hurt to breathe. To see. To exit. He was half-convinced his arm was completely splintered apart after the pulse of raw magic that had filtered through it, but he didn't bother to look.

His soul begged him to move, to get up and run again, but darkness danced in his vision as he stared up at the ceiling. He failed his mission.

He hated to see as the Knight rounded into view, standing cautiously over where he was laid. Floored by the backfire of his power. If the knight said anything, he couldn't hear over the loud ringing invading his head.

Though, instead of stabbing him through like Cross had expected, the knight seemed to duck down. A cool feeling encased Cross' wrists (so the other hadn't broken apart) and his soul suddenly felt exhausted. He felt exhausted.

No matter how much he wanted to stay awake, to escape, he lost this fight fair and square.

[fizzie-frog]

K k but consider this: Asmodeus taking care of Fizz when his health acts up and struggles to take care of himself (and we know Fizz is a stubborn little gremlin who most likely would try to take care by himself unless he's literally like dying or something).

[elenadoeslife]

⛈

[skrunksthatwunk]

nobody's doing it like itsuki yyh. i've been thinking about him and sensui a lot today but like. ok get this. imagine being a demon and this cute human guy (you are gay btw green hair and pronounsed and everything) shows up and tries to kill you and almost succeeds. you survive because you lament that you're gonna miss the finale of a show you watch/see a niche pop artist on tv (depending on adaptation, but either way these are your last words and it airs the next night), and he says he's into it too. you become partners. this man, shinobu sensui, is a spirit detective who's been haunted by demons his whole life, has been killing them with the complete, unwavering belief that he's right for it, since he was in pre-k. you being a demon does not seem to change how he thinks about this. it doesn't change your feelings either, since he fascinates you. you help him kill demons.

one day, your human is confronted with one of the worst sights imaginable, one that shatters his worldview completely. he sees demons being tortured and slaughtered hedonistically by a group of humans. he can't process it. he splits. your shinobu is now one of seven within his body. you love each of them. you love him. you watch as he pivots into a deep hatred of humanity, and of himself for slaughtering so many demons, and of his own inescapable humanity. you love it. you can't get enough of it. watching someone so pure and self-assured become confused, disillusioned, twisted, evil, broken, it thrills and captivates you. it's beautiful, and you egg it on. you make it worse, obsessively. you make him worse. you only want what he wants, really. but you want him to want it worse. sensui is spiraling and you don't steady him, you accelerate it and accelerate it, until he's deciding that before he dies (which will be sooner than you'd like, sooner than you know what to do with), he's going to end humanity. he's going to unleash demonkind on them and secure his redemption, his doom, his punishment. it's a baptism by fire. what a way to go. a very sensui way to go, and you love it like the rest of him: poisonously. you don't need a word of convincing, no argument (as desperate as sensui is to argue his case for this), not a second of that tape, to follow him. you watch as sensui breaks the fragile people he encounters, wrenches them into misanthropic weapons. he's amazing at it. minoru is amazing at it. he brings together his crew of heart-bleeding, self-loathing pawns, and in your downtime you and sensui watch human tv, share your love for animals, plants, the human world. you cherish, distract yourself with, and celebrate these together. they're what brought you together in the first place, and you will destroy them together. you wonder if he knows that these things he loves will surely die when the demons come. you expect he views them as necessary casualties in ridding the world of human evil. how deliciously cruel he can be. you savor it. you have to savor it. you don't like thinking about the end. that sensui will barely be alive to enjoy his victory. is he so convinced of humanity's foulness that he would never bend, never doubt his genocide at all? or would he come to regret it? would he hate himself even more than he does now? once the greater evil, humanity, is eliminated, would he turn his sights on himself? he may see himself as one of the "enlightened" humans who know mankind's evil, but he is still a human with plenty of demon blood on his hands. you want to know. you're desperate for it. you don't ask him what he thinks he will become. you want to watch it unfold naturally, for as long as he is around. let the ink bleed over the page. don't blow. don't wave the paper, don't even touch it. be patient.

your sensui is killed spectacularly at the finish line. he was struck down by a human reborn as a demon. how fitting. it's what sensui wanted, and you are happy for him, as much as you can be. it's bittersweet. you knew it would end soon. you both did. you talked about it all the time. and now it's... over. the portal is being resealed. demons will not wipe out mankind. humanity will go on, unaffected. your sensui's lonely war against his own kind is already being forgotten by the few who knew of it. such a beautiful moment, swept away by time, your sensui. and now his enemies want to claim his soul. his body. to bring him to the afterlife, for whatever judgement awaits him. and you fulfill your final obligation to him. you take him away. sensui did not want any part of that, and neither do you, not particularly. it sounds rather painful, all considered. you lift him and slip away to where no one can reach you. your own little dimension, your own little pocket of existence, just the two of you. no one can touch him now. you, either, not that you care. you hold him like you have for years, and think of your future together. here, where no one can reach him. no one will touch him or stain him or rip him or tear him ever again, not even you. but you will always be closest, and that's enough. cut off from humankind and demonkind completely. it's only you. and it's only him. you wonder how long you will live, like this. a long time. it makes no difference. sensui has broken completely, and you hold the shards of him. every piece remaining is yours, is in your arms, will be yours forever. you wonder if this should be enough for you. if you should be satisfied. you are. as someone whose last regret was missing a late night program, you don't see much point in leaving. what is there for itsuki without sensui? what is there in the world worthwhile? demons, humans, the rest of it. none of it would ever compare. not even to the shards.

you wonder, and it is far from the first or the last time, how sensui will change now, in your arms. white to black, skin to bone to dust. and when you die your soul will dissipate like his, and in a little unreality you and he will linger forever, where no one can know or recall. you will die a secret of the world, a potential wasted, a close call, a scream that is swallowed last-minute. and you will be together. it's all that's mattered for a long time. you wonder if you'll ever change. you don't expect to.

[orangepeelshortbreadcookies]

It's funny how Bridgerton got all this big talk about how women shouldn't be treated as chattels and breeding stocks while having the current female protagonist who in her own way, has treated others as chattels and breeding stocks, enabling her fans in cheering her on for that very behaviour and in reducing her co-lead to a prize for her to ultimately win, a doormat for her to trample on, a mere option she could consider but otherwise insignificant, instead of the main character in his own right, in other words, as chattels and breeding stocks. It's so funny. Ha. Ha. Ha.

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Update 3: drove the asshole home bc I was so sure he was fr gonna die if he drove himself lmao. Poor dude looked so miserable, like bro was either holding back while we were working or he got worse the second he was able to relax, bc there wasn't a single moment of silence the whole drive back, dude was just curled up in the passenger’s seat shivering and being so fucking symptomatic. Like he was doing that thing where you basically cough all of the air out of your lungs then doing that rattly little inhale and then repeating, like it was Not Good 😬 0/10, hated being there to experience that in person, I was horrified, I want all of that to stay in audio recordings where it can't hurt me lmao. And he wasn’t sneezing a ton, but when he did, he stifled them until I told him to quit it bc the last thing he needs is a fucking ear infection on top of whatever the hell is already wrong with him, and even when he stopped, he was so congested that they sounded kinda stifled anyway 😭 like it's all objectively hot and I would've loved it had I just read it and not experienced it first hand, but unfortunately I'm a massive germaphobe and had to sit three feet away from this guy all damn day. So I bleached the hell out of my car and scrubbed myself down in the shower three times and I still don't feel like anything is clean enough, but I'm tired so it's gonna have to do for now lmao

[mad-hunts]

this may be rather unexpected, yes, but i am currently living for a thought i just had this morning - and it is related to the energy that barton brings to his clinic whenever another character's partner is being a jerk and trying to minimize their pain + just starting an argument with them in general. because barton will hit him with this little number right here and it works every time 'hey... sir/ma'am/mix, this office CAN do a lot - but it can't fix your attitude so i'm gonna have to ask you to leave or i'll have you escorted out :D'

[licorishh]

OH YEAH ALSO finally watched the FNAF movie with the coolest person on Earth, 11/10 movie, Mike looked ready to curl up into a fetal position on the floor and burst into tears at all moments, he is so me, would watch again

[chronosbled]

{ I know that I haven't been posting much content lately aside from the very few roleplay responses I have written out, but I'm here to give y'all something that you've never seen before. Behold, white-haired Dickson! And no I won't elaborate further... yet. }

[mystery-star]

Russell Crowe as John Biebe in Mystery, Alaska (1999)

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Wtf kinda resident evil spaces are y'all in that it's common to see someone "lament" Leon losing his job as a c*p. Maybe leave those places asap.

[thegreenleavesofspring]

.

[cosmogyros]

Auditory processing issues suck SO HARD. I just spent about 1.5 hours watching the first half hour of a movie on YouTube, because I had so much trouble understanding the dialogue that I kept constantly having to go back and listen again and again and again, look up a transcript of the full film (the transcript contained mistakes, so it wasn't much help), compare and contrast various subtitle files available online, even cup my hands around my ears, etc. Just to figure out what the characters were saying to each other.

And it's not just literally understanding what words they say to each other, oh no. That's only the first step. The next step is figuring out what those characters MEAN when they say certain words. Like when a dude says "You know, I see, like, if we can get successful, it's, like, L-L, man… limos and Learjets," I feel like I'm having a stroke. I have to hit pause and sit there for a sec and ask myself a bunch of questions and do some research online.

Why did he say L-L? Why did he randomly say the initials of the two things he wants? Also, why does he specifically say 'Learjet'? When people dream of having a private jet, don't they normally say 'private jet'? I'd never heard the word Learjet before, so I had to go look it up to try to get more context, but that didn't really help. Is this a music biz reference I don't know? Is this a Canadian reference I don't know? If this happened once or twice during a movie, it would be no problem, but when I'm stopping and going back literally every two minutes, it takes for-fucking-ever to get through the film and my brain is So! Fucking! Exhausted!

I had to stop at about the half-hour mark. I felt like I was about to cry from frustration, so I quit for the night. I'll return to it in a day or two, when I've got a bit more mental energy, and try to work my way through the rest. If I can get through half an hour of film time per day (in an hour or so, however long it takes to get through that much), I can finish the movie in three days of watching. (And this is a movie I really, really WANT to see. I wouldn't waste a moment of my time struggling through it if I didn't care this much about it.)

Anyway. Sometimes when people say they "don't watch movies much", it doesn't necessarily mean they're being elitist snobs or whatever. Sometimes it's just so fucking challenging and exhausting to watch a movie that it leaves me feeling angry at my own body for being a dysfunctional piece of crap. I don't know if this counts as a "disability" and I'm not claiming that label because I don't want to step on any toes, but I have to admit that the mere prospect of watching a film often fills me with dread because it can be so intensely difficult for me (unless I just mentally check out and give up on understanding it completely, which is what I typically do when I'm watching with other people).

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Breath of the Sky Ch 13 (Skyward Sword meets BotW)

Summary: When Princess Zelda goes to the Spring of Courage to pray, accompanied by her appointed knight, a giant magical cog spitting out a goddess is the last thing she expects, but it is what she gets. Meanwhile, the Spirit Maiden Zelda is trying to figure out what the heck is happening and where her missing chosen hero is.

AO3 link

Chapter 13 - The Failure

They needed to talk. They needed to plan.

Despite the overwhelming despair and uncertainty, despite the fear and pain, Zelda found herself growing motivated the longer she held the princess. She felt the fire returning, the stubborn determination that made a goddess let herself die and be reborn, the steadfastness that pushed her to seal herself away for thousands of years, the protectiveness that had led to the creation of Skyloft.

And so, after wiping the princess’ tears, Zelda had told her they were going to talk to Link. Both of them.

The champion had been easy to locate. He had been hovering outside, trying his best to look calm but easily giving away his concern with the way his eyes lingered too long on the princess, the speed at which he walked to her. Zelda had explained quickly that they needed to find her Link next, and they set about that goal quickly.

The conviction of a goddess mixed with the nervousness of a teenager, though, and Zelda fell into her habit of worrying when it concerned those she cared about… particularly Link.

“Okay,” she said as she marched ahead, nearly dragging the other two with her. “Okay. So. The plan—the plan is to seal him away. We can sort out killing him after. We can do that. We just need to figure out what’s going on with your ability to seal him away. And you—” here she turned to the champion, finger pointing with enough ferocity to be a dagger “You get to kick his ass, but I’m helping do that too because I want to punch his stupid face. I’m sure Link—my Link—uh, Cloud can help with that too, but we need to find him. This is just—this is fine. This is fine. We don’t need the Triforce yet, it’ll be okay. This is fine.”

The look exchanged between the princess and the champion implied that her ramblings were not, in fact, fine, but Zelda ignored it.

Her anxious energy began to grow frustrated as they wandered the castle. Link’s plight of constantly chasing her down was becoming extremely relatable at the moment. As they rounded yet another corner, Zelda felt relief at seeing a familiar colorful uniform with sandy blonde hair peeking out of the navy blue cap.

“Excuse me!” Zelda called, running towards the familiar guard. He genuflected when he turned and saw her. “Have you seen Link? My Link?”

“I know his location, Your Grace,” he answered. “I was actually heading his way. Would you like me to take you to him?”

Given all the information she’d been dealing with, and given all the running around she’d already done, the sheer comfort and happiness at not only hearing that someone could help her locate her husband, but that it was the one person who reminded her of Impa, made Zelda laugh and fall to her knees to be at eye level with the guard. She hugged him tightly. “Thank goodness! Thank you so much, I would love that!”

The guard stiffened under her hold, just as Impa had the first time she’d hugged her, but she didn’t care. Goddesses she needed some kind of stable rock to rely on in this place, and she didn’t have one, but this guard came close. She saw the reflection of the window ahead of her that he was looking at the princess and the champion, the former holding a hand over her mouth to cover a gasp while the latter watched the guard worriedly.

Honestly, these people. How did any society develop to be so emotionally stifled, anyway?

“I need to teach all of you that hugs are a good thing, good grief,” she chuckled as she pulled away. “But anyway, please do show us where Link is.”

The guard took a deep breath, nodding and rising. He guided them in silence, though the sights of the castle kept Zelda preoccupied – they were heading somewhere she hadn’t been yet, and though the stone walls all blended into each other to create a massive maze, she saw light from outside and grew hopeful. It seemed Link, just like her, didn’t care for being cooped up in this stone prison of sorts, as beautiful as it was.

Zelda had to admit that, though she wanted to help her people grow on the Surface, she was a child of the Sky nonetheless.

They wandered a path that seemed vaguely familiar from their expedition into the nearby large town, though the guard guided them down a road that Link and Zelda had pointedly avoided due to the place flooding with people. Eventually, they wound up near a tower farthest from the castle, overlooking a good portion of land and the town below. The sun was high in the sky now, and Zelda turned to the guard as they approached the tower.

“Is there somewhere we can get food in town?” she asked. She was well aware the castle had food too, but she… didn’t want to go back there.

“We can arrange to have lunch brought to you here, if you wish,” the guard replied. “But yes, there are many places in Castle Town where you can get food.”

Upon their arrival to the structure, the guard dismissed the two colorfully clad knights who had been standing post in the entranceway. He turned to face the group. “The Hero is inside, Your Grace. I’ll ensure no one enters.” His gaze moved beyond her, settling on the champion, and he spoke with a softer tone, “When time allows, Link, Princess Mipha wished to speak with you.”

With that, the knight moved aside to let them pass, standing guard. Zelda looked back at the other two, temporarily distracted—was there another princess? Did Princess Zelda have a sister that they hadn’t met yet? She shook her head, returning her focus to the task at hand. She could only gather so many people together at once, after all. It had taken half the day just to get to this point.

Motioning to the two behind her, she walked into the cavernous structure, hearing Link’s footsteps scraping the stone up above. They climbed a ladder to reach the upper level, the bright daylight dazzling Zelda’s eyes for a moment, and she saw the silhouette of her husband pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.

“Link,” she called with a smile, relieved they were all finally together. Her smile fell, however, at the distressed look on her husband’s face.

Link froze, facing away from her, holding himself with trembling hands. She approached him slowly, worry eating away at her already weary heart. When she was close enough to touch him, she wrapped her arms slowly around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. “What’s the matter, Dove?”

Link felt tense under her arms, but then he draped his arms over hers and squeezed her wrists lovingly, stroking her hands with his thumbs. She shifted so she could stand beside him, peeking around his arm with a curious glance. His expression was soft, enchanted by what he saw, but his eyes were dark and stormy. He glanced at her, his heavy brow relaxing a little. “We started all this.”

There was wonder and a quiet timidity to his voice, awe and disbelief and acceptance settling into him. Zelda squeezed him reassuringly, cocking her head to the side and giving him a soft smile. “Yeah. We did.”

Link let out a shaky breath, and then he let her go, looking down. Zelda’s arms fell to her sides, and she grew worried as she watched him ruminate.

His mouth became a thin line. “And I… I screwed it all up. I cursed everything, everyone. I cursed them.”

“Link,” Zelda said, caught off guard. Although the guilt was gnawing at her as well, she wasn’t entirely blaming herself in such a manner. Demise had outplayed them, and it made her angry and scared and mournful, it made her question how they could actually defeat him if she hadn’t been able to as a goddess or with the Triforce, but she’d still placed the majority of the blame on the demon king himself, not her or Link. Her husband’s worries were clearly eating him alive. He hadn’t even noticed that they weren’t alone.

“Don’t,” Link immediately hissed, growing stormy. “Don’t even try it. You did everything right, you did your part, you trusted me to finish things and I didn’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Zelda asked, putting a hand to his cheek. “Link, you defeated him. We had no way of knowing—”

“I did,” Link spat, pulling out of her reach and turning away, his hands shaking as he clenched his fists. His shoulders hunched and his entire body was so tense it was ready to snap. “He said it himself. I thought—I was such an idiot, Zelda, I—I thought—he started speaking about how his hatred would follow my spirit and your bloodline, and it sounded like the dying words of a monster, I—I didn’t realize it was a promise, a curse, that he was—I didn’t—I d-didn’t—”

Link’s body stiffened even further as shuddering gasps and hiccups interrupted his words, and he bowed his head, hugging himself. Zelda immediately rushed around him to face him fully once more, dragging him into the tightest hug she could muster, willing all of her love into it as her mind whirled.

“You had no way of knowing,” she repeated as she processed what he’d said. What promise was he speaking of? Did it even matter? “And who’s to say it was a curse right in that moment? Who’s to say it wouldn’t have happened whether he spoke it or not? Who’s to say there was any stopping it? Link, I was a goddess. I was a goddess and I couldn’t stop him. You did everything you were meant to do – you solved the puzzles, you tempered the Goddess Sword and made it into the Blade of Evil’s Bane, you traveled through time, you got the Triforce and used it to kill him. You beat him. It was Ghirahim who screwed everything up.”

Ghirahim. It was Ghirahim.

Was that truly why they were in this mess? The realization struck her as she spoke the words, because they were true – she’d exited her slumber because Demise had been killed, after all. Ghirahim was the one who sabotaged it, but Link had ensured that…

“What exactly did he say?” she asked, pulling away to look her husband in the eye.

“He said… he said his hatred never dies. That it would be born again and again, that those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero would forever be bound to this curse: an incarnation of his hatred would follow our kind forever, dooming them to darkness and bloodshed.” Link said slowly, refusing to look at her.

Zelda stared at him, dumbfounded. Why… why hadn’t he ever mentioned this before?

As if reading her mind, he stepped away from her, shaking his head and saying, “I—I thought—he was defeated, Zel, I stabbed him in the chest, I thought it was over. The amount of times Ghirahim would give some speech or another despite being defeated, the words were meaningless at that point. Just some other enemy spouting hatred while he bleeds to death. The sword… Fi told me to raise the sword, that it would absorb the remaining evil, that she would seal him away as designed. I didn’t—I didn’t realize—what did I do wrong?”

The trembling of his tone tore at her heart, and Zelda tried to walk towards him again. She couldn’t fathom why Link wouldn’t have mentioned this, but at the same time, his words made sense—and brought so many more questions to mind. How many times had he fought Ghirahim, anyway? The more she considered it, the more she realized she hadn’t really asked much about his adventure. Their time after that journey had been spent recovering and then pointedly avoiding the topic altogether.

Goddesses above, this was all a mess.

“Impa was right,” Link said suddenly, his voice no longer trembling, but so, so dark. “You were wrong. Hylia was wrong. I’m no Hero. Even Fi has decided that! She already chose a successor, after all.”

“Link,” Zelda tried to argue, immediately growing agitated. This sort of talk wasn’t going to do them any good, and she hated seeing him like this. “This isn’t—I know—”

Link’s eyes narrowed at her as if she were an enemy. The look stole her voice from her throat and made her blood freeze. She’d never seen Link this upset. “Yes, you know. Your Grace knows everything. You always did, stringing me along without ever telling me everything until it was too late to even stop you from—from—How does it feel to not have all the pieces until it’s too late? You were wrong.”

Zelda took a step back, her breath sucking in like a gasp as if she’d just been smacked. Link sighed, sensing the change in atmosphere, immediate regret flashing across his face before he finally seemed to notice the other two, who at this point were practically trying to disappear into the walls.

Link’s eyes fixed on the champion, and then he shook his head. The fight quickly drained out of him, but so did any desire to continue talking. He moved quickly towards one of the openings and leapt out of it. Zelda didn’t follow.

The champion ran across the way to peer over where Link had jumped. The princess slowly walked towards Zelda, who was still trying to catch her breath.

There was silence for a long time as the princess hovered near her, as she tried to catch her breath, as Link’s words played over and over in her head.

“Your Grace…?” The princess began hesitantly, a tenderness and shyness to her voice.

Zelda burst into tears.

You always did, stringing me along without ever telling me everything until it was too late.

Guilt sprang forth anew, revitalized by her husband’s accusations, having been squished again and again by both her and Link. It reared its ugly head, reminding her that the fact that Link had been dragged into all of this was very much her fault. Despite being the best fighter among the knights of Skyloft, Link was a softhearted young man through and through. She should have never—but—what choice did she—

Zelda continued to cry, bending over and hugging herself and falling to her knees. Her hiccups and sobs echoed in the area, lost to her own whirling mind but very much laying heavily on the other two occupants.

Link, Champion of Hyrule, felt very much out of place. But he also felt very desperate to try and help. He made his way to the goddess, crumpled on the floor, and his heart hurt to see her like that. He knelt carefully, gently resting a hand on her shoulder, desperately looking at the princess for help.

His own mind was whirling as much as everyone else’s likely was. The words that had been spat out by the Hero of Myth and Legend no longer held the same sting to them. Instead, they rang with such a heartbreaking familiarity, all the way down to the misplaced vitriol.

Zelda. He’d sounded like Zelda.

Never in his life had Link considered that if he ever met the Spirit of the Hero, it would act exactly as his dejected princess did.

He wanted nothing more than to reassure the weeping goddess that it wasn’t her fault at all, just as it wasn’t his fault that Zelda struggled to fulfill her destiny while his came easily. He wanted to tell her that the Hero just needed time and help, just as his princess did. But he was in absolutely no position to do so – he didn’t know what words he could say to reassure Hylia herself, nor could he brainstorm such a conversation with the princess as she herself was just as much a culprit of such behavior as the Hero was. Though, to her credit, she was trying to improve that, hence their budding friendship. But…

Desperate, Link looked pleadingly at Zelda, motioning to the goddess with his head. Do something.

The princess held her hands in front of her chest anxiously, one hand playing with the her wrist. “Your Grace… I… I’m sure he didn’t…”

Hylia continued to cry, not acknowledging either of them. At least she wasn’t upset that Link was touching her. He really wished he could do more.

Link thought of suggesting that they get lunch, but he had a feeling his own love for food would not help the matter. Hylia didn’t seem like the thought of a delicious meal would cheer her up.

The champion was quickly running out of ideas, just as his friend seemed equally clueless. However, Zelda finally knelt down as well, ignoring the dirt she was getting on her dress, and placed her hand on Hylia’s other shoulder. “Your Grace, I’m… I’m sorry.”

Hylia glanced up, eyes puffy, tears staining her flushed cheeks. It was… not a look Link would expect from a goddess.

He supposed he had never thought a goddess could get upset like this. He remembered her radiant smile and eagerness to befriend earlier in the day, and his heart ached even more.

He opened his mouth to speak, but still found himself choking on words. He didn’t know what he could say to help her, what would be appropriate, what would be helpful. Hylia’s gaze was fixed on the princess instead, and Link hesitantly pulled away to give the two some space. Zelda’s eyes quickly darted to his, pleading for support, but he didn’t know what to do.

Hylia stole Zelda’s attention anyway as she hiccupped and shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor again as she squeezed her eyes shut. The princess shuffled a little closer. Link stepped further away, trying to figure out how he could help, what he could do. He could at least maybe get them some food, giving Hylia and her descendant time to regain composure, and then he could help them in that regard.

Sliding down the ladder, Link continued to hesitate as he dragged his feet to the exit of the guard house. His father was surprisingly missing, despite having been standing guard, leaving Link a little disappointed. He doubted his father could give him advice on the matter, but it would have been nice to at least see him. Instead, Link fumbled to follow through on his decision, feeling like it wasn’t helpful but not knowing what else to do.

“Oh, Link! There you are!”

Startled, Link turned to see his friend, Mipha, approaching, looking relieved. She smiled, red scales glowing in the noon sun, and Link felt like he was drowning in the ocean and just finally saw a lighthouse guiding him.

Link strode up to her immediately, hands gesturing frantically with words he couldn’t piece together, and his friend quickly noticed his distress. “Link, what’s wrong?”

“He—she—” Link spat out, his chest about to burst, trying desperately to hold the words in but unable to do so. He wasn’t sure this was appropriate to share, but by the goddesses he needed to say something. “He’s just like Zelda.”

The words flew out of his mouth like an arrow released from a bow, and he nearly collapsed onto the nearest bench, overwhelmed and exhausted at holding it in for so long, at the sheer relief that nearly drowned him and screamed he doesn’t actually hate me. Mipha slowly sat beside him, watching him hesitantly. He shook his head, leaning over until his face was buried in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well…” Mipha said slowly. “You… could start by telling me what you mean.”

Oh. He supposed she needed context.

“The Hero,” he started slowly. “He… feels bad about himself. Like… like the princess. But he… and Hylia… he made… she’s crying, and I…”

Mipha jumped a little. “Hylia’s crying?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Link shook his head. “Mipha, what am I supposed to do?”

“Why is she crying?” Mipha asked.

“She—he—” Link stopped himself and took a breath to reorganize his thoughts. “The Hero. He… he got upset. Really upset. Like… remember when I… when I mentioned… I mean, you kind of dragged it out of me, but…”

Mipha, bless her, remained patient, knowing how Link could struggle to express himself. He’d barely spoken to anyone these last few months, but he’d finally started opening back up to his friend, even if it was just a little. She was the only one who knew that Zelda had yelled at Link in their first weeks together, although the other Champions had clearly sensed the tension.

“He got angry at her,” Link explained slowly. “He got angry. He’s… he said he was a failure, that he wasn’t worthy of being the Hero of Legend. Mipha, it’s… he sounded just like Zelda. But he… he got angry at Hylia about it, and now she’s crying.”

“Oh, my,” Mipha said softly, hand over her mouth. “I… didn’t realize a goddess could cry. That’s… awful.”

“It is awful,” Link agreed, the words spilling out of him now as his emotions mixed with them. “Mipha, what do I do? How do you cheer up a goddess?”

His friend was quiet for a long time, ruminating the matter. “Well… I suppose the same way you cheer anyone up. She cries just like the rest of us… perhaps she just needs kindness like the rest of us too.”

Link thought about the words, remembering all the rituals they did for the goddess. But then he remembered once, when he was very little, when he’d offered flowers to the goddess statue in Hateno, to the warmth that had filled his heart and soul when he’d done so, to the smile that always pulled at his lips whenever he saw silent princesses ever since.

Silent Princess. Zelda’s favorite flower. It always put a smile on the princess’ face too.

Link’s eyes lingered on the one garden that had tried to cultivate the flower, the only one that had succeeded so far, though herbalists hardly called it a success as only one or two flowers grew from the entire batch, and one was wilting already.

Filled with relief and hope, Link dragged Mipha into a hug. “Thank you.”

His friend was stiff under his embrace, and he felt her heart fluttering against his chest. Suddenly, the embrace felt too intimate, too personal, too close, and Link felt his own cheeks blush as he quickly pulled away. Before either party could speak, he hastily made his way to the flower bed, fingers reaching for the healthier of the two specimens.

“Link, wait, isn’t that endangered—”

The silent princess yielded easily to his fingers as he pointedly ignored how the tips of his ears burned, but as he reoriented to his original excitement, he stared at the beautiful, delicate blue-and-white petals with determination.

He turned and smiled at Mipha, nodding in gratitude, before rushing back to the guard house. By the time he reached the top, Hylia’s sobs had evened out, though she was still crumped on the ground. Zelda was on the floor beside her, arm halfway across her shoulders in a hesitant but heartfelt hug. Link took a steadying breath and walked towards the pair, kneeling in front of them. When the two looked up at him, he offered the flower quietly, eyes trying to convey everything his mouth refused to speak.

Hylia stared at him a moment before her gaze lingered on the flower. She reached out slowly, carefully taking the plant from his grasp and turning it in her own calloused fingers.

Her eyes watered, but a smile pulled at her trembling lips. The heaviness of the air seemed to dissipate, and Link smiled back at her.

“It’ll be all right,” he finally said softly.

“We’re here for you,” Zelda added on, growing bolder. “Just as you are for us, Your Grace. I… I may not… I may not have my powers, but I…”

The princess sighed shakily and continued, “I will still do my duty, and I will support you just as you’re trying to do for us.”

Hylia let out another sob, brow pulling together, but the way her face glowed, the way her cheeks puffed and lips pulled conveyed it for the emotional, relieved laugh that it was.

XXX

Abel supposed it was time to break protocol.

He ignored the anxious words warding him away from his goal as he walked down the stone path towards the city. He could practically hear the drill sergeants from his youth telling him to listen to superiors at all costs, to respect those in charge, to fulfill his duty and never question those above his station.

He could hear his heart telling him to do otherwise, his mind set in stone in his path, his beloved wife encouraging him to keep walking forward.

The Hero of Myth and Legend sat on the wall dividing the castle from Castle Town. Abel leaned against the stone beside him, staring out as the sun began to descend from its zenith.

The Hero glanced at him, startled, and moved to get up, but Abel ordered immediately, “Stay put.”

Oh, how his decades of training balked at ordering such a figure around. But mostly, it felt familiar, like when he was talking to his son. Perhaps the fact that they shared a name and a destiny helped.

The Hero slowly resumed his previous posture, bolstering Abel’s confidence on the matter. Now the captain of the guard just had to figure out what to say.

He’d honestly tried not to listen to the conversations in the guard tower. It wasn’t his business – his son, the princess, the goddess, and the mythical hero were all far above him in importance. Although he would always cherish Link, he respected the role his boy had to play, and he wasn’t going to interfere or be so immature as to eavesdrop on important discussions.

It was hard not to hear it, though, when the Immortal Hero was shouting.

Words of a curse, of a demon king, of blame and failure and guilt – they’d all spilled down into Abel’s ears as easily as rain. And it was hard to get them out of his head once heard.

Abel once again found himself wondering what the benefit was in having heroes so young. He still had plenty of strength and endurance in him at the ripe age of thirty-seven, and he didn’t have the emotional issues he’d had when hew as a teenager. Experience was as good a weapon as any.

Not to mention it assisted in cutting through drama and getting to the heart of the matter.

Of course, it still didn’t prepare Abel for such a conversation. It hadn’t prepared him for any of the conversations he’d had with his son once Hyrule had noticed a Hero had arisen. The words the Hero had hissed rang in his ears once more, thoughts of demon kings hunting down his son buzzing before he pushed them away. His son had been preparing for years had the support of all of Hyrule, and Abel would double his efforts in protecting the castle. This one, on the other hand, was a soldier in an eternal war, and Abel and even Link were simply another battlefield on which he had to fight. It seemed he was only just realizing that too, which was... odd and... heartbreaking.

He really had no frame of reference for this person, young and ancient, magical and so unbelievably normal. But he could speak to what he’d seen, and… he dearly hoped it was enough. He hoped it was enough and would be taken in the right spirit. The fact that the—the boy had listened was a promising start, after all.

“I don’t understand what it could possibly be like, being created by the goddess Hylia for the sole purpose of fighting off a demon king,” Abel started honestly, bluntly. “You look as Hylian as anyone else.”

The Ancient One glanced at him, tired and hurting and confused all at once. “I… I don’t know what that is.”

He didn’t know what a Hylian was? Abel supposed he wouldn’t. He was created to fight. Yet he was just like any other teenager. It still made no sense to the captain, but… a boy was a boy. Abel motioned towards the boy’s ears, small and curved like leaves, unique and honestly a little cute. It had always been said that Hylians’ ears were the way they were to better help them hear the goddess – perhaps his were shaped so differently so only he could hear her whispers, so only he could be privileged to her song. It… honestly made Abel’s skin crawl a little. He wished the Hero didn’t look so young – the thought of a child being molded to fight and married off to the goddess… it felt…

Abel didn’t dare say the sacrilegious word, but the ill feeling in his stomach lingered nonetheless. He tried to remind himself that this strange figure was ancient and not actually a teenager, even if he seemed to act like one.

“Your ears,” he commented. “They’re as Hylian as anyone else’s.”

The Hero instinctively reached up to touch his own ears, staring at Abel with wide, genuinely curious eyes now. The traces of guilt and sorrow were fading away in wake of his bemusement, and in that moment he really, truly looked like a kid.

Abel swallowed, trying to get to his point. “You’re… different, perhaps, but you still seem pretty Hylian to me, if you’ll pardon my ignorance on the matter. And if that is the case… then it seems such pressure that you’re putting on yourself is unrealistic.”

Hylia’s Chosen stiffened, though he didn’t comment.

“Calamity Ganon is a scourge that has plagued this land for millennia,” Abel said carefully. “And each time it has come, it has taken all of Hyrule to fight it. Though the Spirit of the Hero and the power of the Goddess are required to vanquish it, they have never fought alone. It seems… unreasonable to expect any different of yourself.”

The Hero bit his lip, his hands falling to his lap as he looked down. “But I was supposed to.”

“Did you defeat him?” Abel asked.

The Hero glanced at him, and though he held guilt in his gaze, he nodded.

“So you defeated him alone, which no one has ever accomplished before or since then,” Abel pointed out. “Yet you blame yourself for his return? If you fought him before and won, this should be easy, should it not?”

“But I—”

“But what?” Abel pressed on. “You can’t change that he’s here. Only that you’re here to stop him. Are you going to fight him or not?”

The Hero stared at him for a long while, eyes growing weary. Abel recognized the look, the exhaustion of war, the scars hidden within. He faced the boy fully.

“You won’t be alone this time,” he told him firmly. “Link will fight alongside you, as well as all the Champions, the guardians, and Hyrule’s army.”

“Sounds rather like I’m not needed,” the Hero said softly, a sad smile pulling at his lips.

“I am not one to waste resources,” Abel replied perhaps a bit too curtly, but he was tired of the adolescent’s moping. This was what the ancient child had been created for, after all, was it not? “You defeated Calamity Ganon long before any army ever could be raised against him. If you fight alongside our forces, if you support Link, then it makes the likelihood of actually killing it all the higher.”

Hylia’s Chosen perked up at the idea given to him, though he still looked a bit uncertain.

“Will you fight alongside Link?” Abel prompted. “Will you help him? Or are you going to drown in your sorrows instead while the rest of Hyrule tries to fight?”

“I’m the only one who can,” the Hero muttered, eyes darkening once more, shoulders set in resignation. “That’s what he said. That’s… what they always say. It’s my destiny.”

Abel waited, unsure what to say to such a remark. The ancient one’s words held a pain and exhaustion to them, but also a bite, and the captain of the guard was suddenly reminded that he was a nobody speaking to a legend.

The Hero of Myth and Legend stared out at Hyrule, sitting up straighter. “I won’t let him destroy this place. I won’t let him hurt Link, or Zelda. Or the princess. I promise.”

“I thank you for your protection,” Abel said genuinely with a bow of his head, catching the Hero’s attention.

“But I…” the Hero continued hesitantly. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. She’s… I know I upset her.”

Abel hadn’t heard Hylia’s reply to any of the words the Hero had said, but he supposed accusing her of being wrong would be upsetting. She seemed too kind to get angry, though, and the hurt on the magical boy’s face implied it as well.

Well. This was certainly a topic he could relate to. He was rather short tempered compared to others, after all. “We’re not perfect, Hero. We will say things that hurt those we love. What matters is that we apologize for them.”

Hylia’s Chosen watched him with a look so eerily similar to Link’s own when his son had been younger—so eager for wisdom from his father, so desperate for guidance—that it almost made Abel falter. Then the boy sighed and nodded in agreement.

Abel smiled as best he could. “Now, I believe Her Grace is waiting for you, great Hero. And if I may be so bold as to say… as a married man, I advise you be quick – our wives don’t like to wait for long.”

The smile that broke out on the Hero’s face was unexpectedly soft and sweet, his eyes glittering as if he was coming back to life, and the Immortal One leapt off the wall, much to Abel’s shock. The captain reached out hastily before seeing the Hero deploy some sort of paraglider, and he sighed heavily, realizing that now he had yet another hero who was going to give him heart attacks on a regular basis.

Oh, how he wished he could hold his son in that moment. But duty called, and he had strayed from it for long enough.

XXX

Admittedly, despite how his heart warmed at the thought of being with Zelda again, Link felt guilt crushing him the closer he got back to the structure he’d run from.

He knew what he’d said was hurtful. He’d chosen his words very particularly so that they would sting. He hadn’t wanted Zelda’s reassurances because he’d known they’d be empty, and suddenly hurt and resentment that had been long forgotten and shoved into the dark recesses of his mind had snarled into the light.

Link was ashamed to even get near his beloved. But he’d be damned if he didn’t own up to it.

And he missed her. He missed her smile, he missed her warmth, he missed her embrace. He was drowning and he wanted nothing more than to hold on to her. He supposed after what he’d said earlier it was a selfish thought at this point, but… if there was one constant in his life, no matter the storm, it had always been her.

He wasn’t going to be the one to lose her again. He wasn’t going to be the one to push her away.

The walk felt like it took an eternity, even though it was only a few minutes. Link hesitantly stared at the ladder leading up to the top, and then he climbed it, steeling himself.

When he got to the top, he found only a couple guards.

Link didn’t bother to speak with them, sliding down once more, and nearly jumped out of his skin as he was met with one of the stranger looking people from the festival. Their skin was red and shimmering, eyes nearly the same shade of amber as the crystal that had held Zelda in a trance for millennia. Their fingers were delicate but held sharp claws, and a blue sash was the only clothing they wore, though their body was adorned in glimmering jewelry.

“Hello, Hero,” the person said in a soft, feminine tone.

Wait, he’d seen her before. She had been sparring with the new Hero that morning.

“Do you—do you know where Zelda is?” he asked quickly, nearly laughing at the irony of such a question given his history with it.

“The princess is with Her Grace and Sir Link,” the woman answered. “They decided to head out into Hyrule Field, I believe. They were going to pick up lunch on the way.”

Hyrule Field? “Where’s that?”

The woman pointed back to the direction where he’d just come from. “It’s just beyond Castle Town. If I were them, I would go to the Sacred Grounds. It’s a pleasant place for a picnic. It’s close to the center of Hyrule Field, you can’t miss it. Would you… like me to take you there?”

Out of a nearly gone habit, Link nearly said no, as if he would find it on his map and could dowse for Zelda beyond that. Goddess. He shook his head, and then hastily said, “Yes, please.”

The strange looking woman—girl? Woman??—smiled and asked him to walk with her. Link tried to ignore the people staring at them as they progressed, feeling the number of eyes on them grow as they entered the big town he and Zelda had explored a few nights ago.

The joy of that exploration felt so far away now. He felt so empty, so unbelievably alone. But the guard had promised he wasn’t, and he…

He just wanted to go home. But it was just like his original journey, wasn’t it? He hadn’t wanted the weight of the world on his shoulders then. He’d just wanted to find Zelda. Headmaster Gaepora had said that the destiny of the world was his to bear, and his alone. No one could know.

Just as now, it was his destiny to fight Demise once more. But… the guard had said it himself.

Link wasn’t alone. Even if he deserved to be, after somehow managing to mess this up.

He would be alone if he continued to push everyone away, though, and he knew it. He remembered just after the world had nearly ended, remembered how isolated he was, and how Zelda had been the only one who could reach him in those dark moments.

Link hardly noticed that they’d reached the fields, hardly noticed that the woman he was with kept glancing at him to make sure he was okay. She seemed to understand he didn’t want to talk and was somehow blessedly fine with it, making the occasional remark about the weather or anything else to ensure it didn’t get too awkwardly quiet.

The awkwardness did linger, though, when Link realized he didn’t know her name. When she stopped and pointed straight ahead, he said, “Thank you… I… didn’t get your name.”

The woman’s eyes widened, suddenly embarrassed. “O-oh! I’m—I’m so very sorry, I—my name is Mipha, Princess of the Zora. I beg your pardon for my lack of manners!”

Another princess? Link stared at her, curious, but then smiled. “Thank you, Mipha.”

The woman’s shame faded, and she nodded, heading back towards Castle Town. Link took a fortifying breath and walked towards the Sacred Grounds. The trees hid some of the area and his approach, allowing him to see the new Hero sitting on the ground alongside Zellie and his wife. His successor was eating away cheerily, garnering a chuckle from Zellie, and Zelda… picked at her food quietly. She smiled when acknowledged, but didn’t seem to have much of an appetite.

Link wanted to kick himself. He also kind of wished the other two weren’t there.

Miraculously, Zelda alone seemed to notice his approach. She paused from holding her food, watching him with a little trepidation. Her eyebrows wrinkled together, and the hurt and worry on her face made Link want to melt into the earth. Zellie seemed to notice something was up, but before she could speak, Zelda rose and walked slowly in his direction.

She paused just out of his reach, and the pair watched each other quietly. A wind stirred between them, trying to push Link away, and he nearly gave in to it, shaking like a leaf.

“Link…?” Zelda called quietly, almost timidly.

Link wasn’t sure if it was the stress of everything catching up to him again, or if it was the way his own wife was scared to approach him as if he were shatter or explode on her… all he knew was that he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately said, shaking his head, taking a frightened step away. “I’m sorry, Zelda, I’m sorry I’m sorry—”

Zelda’s eyes widened, and she immediately covered the ground between them, nearly tackling him in a hug, carrying him with strong but trembling arms, easing him down to the earth as the world spun around him. He couldn’t get anything else out aside from apologies that stumbled over each other, words only stopping when he hiccupped or gasped for air, his tears endlessly staining her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, tightening her hug.

“No it’s not!” Link sobbed. “None of it is, I’m so sorry, I’m—”

Again and again the apologies came forth until he’d exhausted himself, until he found himself clinging to her with as much desperation as he had when she’d awoken from her trance months ago.

He heard Zelda take a shaky breath, her exhale tickling his ear. “I am too.”

The words were raw, the sentiment so genuine it ached. Link didn’t have the emotional energy to reply, couldn’t defend her after trying so many times to reassure her and then eating his own words due to his outburst. He had nothing left to offer except himself, broken and worthless and idiotic as he was, and he just held her all the more.

The sun shone brightly on the pair as the other two slowly rose and watched in silence.

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

I've had a stupid merlin au idea stuck in my head for days now and I know I'll never get around to writing it the way I want it written but I kinda wanna try anyway even though I am 100% of the target audience