Veil of Twilight

Chapter XVIII
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“I can keep you hidden from him, if we’re careful,” he said. “I still have enough strength to at least do you that service.”

They were outside, sitting on a ledge outside a tall, twisted spire, their legs hanging over a drop that would mean their end. The sky roiled around them, dark and dusty, and they were close enough to the heavens to feel a jittery tickle when thunder cracked. It was a magnificent sight, from up there, if not completely macabre. Zelda was just grateful to be out of the murky dungeons below the castle.

“So…” she started. She had asked her mysterious savior so many questions already, but still she had more. “Have I traveled back in time?”

“Not exactly,” he said, still watching the sky as he spoke. Zelda’s eyes were on him. He had introduced himself as Ganondorf. She knew the name, or at least one similar. Ganon had been the antagonist of the Imprisoning War. Her ancestor, along with the Hero of Time, had sealed him away. He had been an evil, corrupted man, barely even human. The character before her did not seem to fit the description.

“From what you’ve told me,” Ganondorf continued, “it seems as though Ganon, or his spirit, at least, has possessed your body. It makes the most sense; He was probably living through Zant’s body before you.”

Zelda tried not to react too forcefully. She wanted to scream, felt violated. Still, she continued.

“So where am I?” she asked, swallowing a lump in her throat.

“You’re in a memory,” he said. “This is Hyrule as it was during the Evil King’s reign. Although he controls your physical body, your spirit is still alive, and you are now existing within his mind.”

“I see…” she said, although she hardly did. The concept was so abstract, it was hard to wrap one’s mind around it. Ganondorf simply nodded at her quiet reply.

“This is why you must not be found. If he finds you, the last of your spirit will be consumed, and he’ll have you and your Triforce.”

Zelda nodded. She still had more questions. She took his hand, as if it would somehow incline his honesty. He looked down at it.

“You’re not Ganon?” it was a stupid question. He’d lie, if it was he. But she had no choice but to trust him, even if she still suspected deceit. Still, she felt her hopes rise a little as he shook his head, his golden eyes blank, perhaps sad.

“No,” he said. “I’m not.”

“Well…” a pause. “Who are you, then? What are you?”

“I’m nobody,” he said shortly. “Just another memory.”

…

The trees all looked the same, but he knew the difference, had learned the difference over the hours he had spent amongst them. Each tree had a different configuration of branches, each a different foothold, a different vantage point. Every feature of his surroundings were leverage now, an advantage against his opponent. He stood upon one, the hard earth so far below him, his back against the immense trunk of the ancient oak, his eyes closed, his senses alive with perception. His body was sore from days of exertion, but he could feel his new strength beneath the pain. He felt the powerful thrum of the Master Sword in his hand.

His long, newly utilized ears picked up a minute whistle, and he ducked. An arrow dug into the tree a second later, driving into the wood with a loud thunk, seemingly from nowhere. But he knew better. Immediately he knocked his own, firing precisely toward his target. He knew it wouldn’t hit, but it would draw out the enemy.

Another arrow flew, from closer by this time. Link dodged and readied his shield, stepping away from the base of the tree and further out onto the branch. He heard, barely, the almost silent landing behind him as his adversary dropped down onto the branch behind him.

Link spun and caught a blow with his shield, meeting eyes with his opponent, identical to himself, though slightly more aged; the Hero of Time. The two danced apart, taking identical stances, watching each other for the slightest movement.

The Hero advanced, and Link leaned back, letting himself fall. Gracefully, controlled, he caught the end of the next branch below and swung under and around it, landing perfectly upon it. The Hero followed, joining him a moment later. Their swords clashed, Link’s divinely bestowed Master Sword driving against the Hero’s, an immaculately crafted blade from one of his many adventures. They drew back and swung again, matching blow for blow, leaping from tree to tree, their fighting skills practiced and adept.

Finally, the Hero gained the advantage, knocking Link to his feet. He swung down on his younger counterpart, ready to end their spar. Thinking quickly, Link rolled to his side and off the branch, grabbing the Hero’s foot as he fell. They hit the ground hard, but were close enough for it to be less than dire. The Hero hit the floor with an sharp exhale, and before he could catch his breath, Link was upon him, blade to jugular. The younger warrior’s face was set in concentration, his eyes studying the opponent for the slightest sign of any reversal. The Hero smirked.

“Touché,” he said.

…

Link bathed in the river, washing away the sweat and blood of another day of training. A little further upstream, his mentor was doing the same.

It had been days since he had arrived in Old Hyrule. After recovering from his initial time traveling sickness, Dark Link and the Hero of Time, and even Sheik, had been relentlessly training him, forcing him to grow stronger, more skilled, quicker on his feet. If his enemy possessed Ganon’s power, they had insisted, than he was as good as dead.

So they had trained him. He had practiced swordplay and hand to hand combat and archery and everything in between. The older Link had sat him down for meditation, teaching him a technique he called the Eye of Truth. It was like an extrasensory perception, a sixth sense. The Hero had deemed it crucial.

Link stepped out of the river, taking a moment to admire his naked reflection. He had never been out of shape, having worked on a ranch all his life, but his adventures had toughened him up considerably. He could now see every muscle, toned and strong. He was marred here and there with battle scars, most of them admittedly from his training with the Hero. He got dressed by the riverbank, looking back at the river as he pulled his tunic over his head. Something caught his eye. It protruded slightly from the muddy soil by the river’s edge, curved and strangely colored. He stooped low to dig it out, wiping the mud from it’s face.

It was a mask. That in itself was strange enough, but it’s oddness was magnified by the fact that it looked just like him. It was like staring at his reflection, almost, as if it had been made for him. There were strange tribal markings of red all over it’s face, and it’s eyeholes were hollow and blank. Somehow it still seemed to be staring at him. It made Link uncomfortable.

He turned it over. The inside of it was blank and unspectacular; smooth and cool to the touch, inviting. Something about it made him want to put it on. He raised it to his face, about to feel the surface of it touch the skin, when he heard a twig snap underfoot. He wheeled around, ready to defend himself.

It was the Hero. His eyebrow’s were raised, and his eyes were fixed on the mask Link was holding. Link had observed him to be a man of few words, but he spoke now, his voice quiet.

“Where did you find that thing?” he asked. He approached Link, not taking his eyes off of it. Link held it out for him to see. He seemed hesitant to take it.

“I found it half sticking out of the mud,” Link said warily. Something about the whole situation seemed off. The Hero’s eyes were distant, focused only on the mask.

“I thought I’d buried it deep enough…” he said. Link was becoming worried.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. The Hero blinked out of his thoughts. He shook his head and threw the mask into the river. Link almost cried out in protest.

“Let’s go,” the Hero said.

They rode horses back toward the ranch, the light fading around them as the sun set. The Hero spoke along the way, more so than Link had ever heard from him. He listened attentively to the Hero’s story.

…

There was a kingdom, far away from Hyrule, called Termina. Everything about the place was like a strange, strange dream. Everybody there wore masks, and these masks bestowed strange, sometimes dangerous powers to the wearer.

One mask, Majora’s Mask, was stolen by a lost forest child, a skull kid. This mask was cursed with an evil, evil power, and the skull kid, who was fond of pranks, fell under It’s spell. His pranks turned malevolent, and with Majora’s power, he pulled the moon out of the sky and tried to destroy the world.

The Hero finally confronted Majora/Skull Kid, and he gave the Hero another mask: The Fierce Deity’s Mask. Wearing it granted the wearer unimaginable power, and the Hero defeated Majora and stopped the moon. But it came with a price.

“That mask has a mind of it’s own,” the Hero said. “You can feel it each time you put it on, corrupting, taking over a little more each time.”

So he had hid it, buried it in the woods. It had been one of the hardest things he had ever done, but it was too dangerous to use. Apparently, though, it wanted to be found.

“You’re better off without it,” the Hero said, the two of them approaching the ranch. They stabled their horses, heading towards the main house for supper.

Tomorrow, they would rest their bodies, the Hero said. The day after that, they would travel to the Temple of Time.

…

Link thought about the Hero’s story all night, lying awake and playing it over and over in his mind. It had been so strange to see the legendary Hero that way. He had seemed so hesitant, perhaps even afraid, the way he had thrown the mask as soon as he had gripped it, like it was poisonous.

The vision spurred Link’s irritation. It seemed unnecessary. He didn’t have any place to tell Link what he could and couldn’t handle. But, he was probably right, Link resigned.

Still, his imagination was alive with the possibilities the Hero had suggested, and he didn’t fall asleep until the sky was beginning to become light outside. He was groggy and weary upon waking to a knock on his door. He got up and opened the door to see a pretty redheaded girl smiling tirelessly at him.

“Hi, Link,” she said cheerily. She had probably been awake for hours already. “I was wondering if you could help me round up the cuccos?”

He nodded sleepily. He didn’t want to, but he knew Romani wouldn’t leave him alone until he agreed. She was stubborn, he had learned.

“Just let me get dressed,” he said.

“Okay,” she said excitedly, not moving from the doorway. He held her gaze, irritated, waiting for her to get the hint.

“Get out,” he finally said. Her smile disappeared and she grumbled, but she left, shutting the door behind her. Link got dressed and headed outside. Romani was waiting by the door for him. She immediately grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers with his and dragging him along.

“I’ve got most of them already,” she said. “But there’s a couple left and I just can’t catch them.”

After five minutes, it was easy to see why. There were three cuccos in the corral, and Link could not keep up with them for the life of him. None of the training he had received seemed to be a match for the little birds. He jumped up in the air, trying to catch them, but they flew infuriatingly out of reach. One of them even dropped a white splat on the shoulder of his tunic. He would dive for them, and fall just short, sliding into the dirt. All the others worked around the ranch, carrying out the day’s chores, and they would laugh as they passed, amused by his misfortune. Romani’s father even dropped the bale of hay he was carrying, sitting upon it for a while and laughing until he was holding his sides.

All the while, Romani watched contently, as if impressed by his lack of cucco wrangling skills. By the time Link had caught them, he was sweaty and covered with dirt and grass. He was ready to go back to bed. Romani seemed to have other plans, though.

“Just one more thing!” she said. Link doubted it. He had grown accustomed to hearing her say ‘just one more thing’ until it was dark out. But there was no use arguing with her; he let her take his hand and lead him around the corral, to the stable on the far side of the ranch.

There were no horses in the stable, he noticed as he stepped inside. Romani must be expecting me to clean them out, he thought.

He heard the door close behind him, and Romani was standing before him, her eyes shining bright and her hands clasped before her. She looked nervous about something.

“Something the matter?” he asked. She shook her head cutely.

“Link…” she started. “You don’t have anyone where you come from, do you? Like a girlfriend?”

“Excuse me?” he asked, puzzled. Then it clicked. The empty barn, her nervous demeanor. “Oooh, um, yes, I do,” he fumbled. “I mean, I don’t, but there’s somebody, you could say, I mean-”

“So no, then?” Romani interjected, flashing a smile and advancing towards him. Link noticed her teeth. She was the spitting image of her mother, in most regards, but he saw that she had the four pronounced sharp teeth, like her father.

“Look,” he started, backing up as she stepped closer. He fumbled for something, anything to distract her. He couldn’t let this happen. “Romani, somebody’s going to notice we’re in here, or-”

He stopped as his back hit the wall of the barn. Romani stopped less than a foot before him, gazing up at him, attempting to entrance him with her eyes. He couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, just like her mother, though fairly younger than him; sixteen at the most, a good three years younger. Despite her looks, though, there was nothing driving him to accept her. Especially with the feelings he already had for somebody else.

“Romani,” he started. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” He should’ve known that she’d be stubborn about it. She pulled closer to him, rubbing her front against his. He could feel the needy heat of her body beneath her dress.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said, her lips tickling the ridge of his ear. “And I want it to be you.”

She stepped away from him, reaching up to each shoulder and casually flicking away the straps of her dress. She was naked underneath.

“What do you think?” she asked. Her body was voluptuous, amazingly curvy and youthful. Link tried to shake his head to deny her, belying the tightness he felt in his breeches. She smiled, showing her sharp teeth, and stepped towards him again.

“Romani-” She leaned up and pressed her full lips to his, silencing him, wrapping her leg around his, intertwining them. Her breasts were pressed up against his chest, and he could feel his erection standing upright against his will, dying to be driving into her. It would happen if he didn’t stop now. He pushed away from her.

“What’re you-?” she cried, glaring at him defiantly. Link held her gaze for a long time. Finally she huffed.

“Fine!” she hissed at him. She picked up her dress and pulled it back on. “But don’t think this will happen again. You missed your chance!”

She stormed out of the barn, slamming the door behind her. Link exhaled a long held breath, leaning back against the wall. His body was crying out in protest and fury, but he felt better about his decision anyway.

He stepped outside and closed the door behind him, jumping when he heard a voice.

“What’s going on in there?” the tone was lofty, mildly amused. Link turned to see Romani’s father, standing before him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

“Wha-a…” was all Link could manage. Dark Link’s face was unreadable. As Link watched, though, his older counterpart’s lips smirked into a grin.

“Let me tell you something, boy,” he started. “You may have illusions of being the Hero of Time’s descendant, and all that, but just because you’re the new hero doesn’t mean the two of you are related. I know my own blood, and I’m looking at it. You best behave yourself, or you might end up making quite a mess of your own bloodline.”

“What are you talking ab-” Link trailed off. He remembered something Vaati had told him, when they had first met. He wasn’t the descendant of the Hero, but somebody else.

“No…” he said. Dark Link’s grin widened.

“Glad to see we’re on the same page.”

“But she just-. We just-. I almost-.”

Dark ruffled Link’s cap mockingly, turning and leaving him in his own shock.

“See you at supper,” he said.

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Thank you all so much for the review. I'm glad so many people are enjoying what they're reading. As has been clearly foreshadowed in this chapter, things are just gonna be more and more twisted out of canon. But response seems to be pretty positive so far, so I guess everybody's on the same page.
Next chapter soon. Please rate and review. Feedback's always appreciated. Enjoy!