Triforce of the Gods

By: Frances

folder Zelda › General

Rating: Adult +

Chapters: 8

Views: 2,104

Reviews: 6

Recommended: 0

Currently Reading: 1

Category: Zelda › General

Rating: Adult +

Chapters: 8

Views: 2,104

Reviews: 6

Recommended: 0

Currently Reading: 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of The Legend of Zelda, nor do I make any money from these writings.

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of The Legend of Zelda, nor do I make any money from these
writings.

Triforce of the Gods

Chapter Six: Acceptance

It had only been 3 weeks, but to Zanna it felt as if decades had passed. As she discovered,
however, she was far from being the only one who felt that way. Since she had been arrested,
there had been nonstop turbulence in the castle– the Hylian Council was in session from sun up
to sun down, and the Princess’ afternoons were solely occupied by hearing and occasionally
calming the heated debate.

From what Rowan and Resha could gather, Princess Zelda had had a vision when they had
entered Castle Town– a vision that identified Zanna as the notorious Winged Sheikah. As it
turned out, Link had not been entirely honest when he’d first contracted Zanna’s help. While it
was true that finding the Winged Sheikah was crucial to stopping the plague threatening Hyrule,
it was wasn’t because the Winged Sheikah was capable of healing or preventing the disease– it
was because the Winged Sheikah was causing it. Their task had really been an assassination
mission.

“But don’t hold that against the Hero,” Resha had quickly added when they explained this.

“Don’t entirely trust him either,” Rowan interjected.

“But most importantly, don’t hold it against him,” Resha said firmly, sending Rowan a look that
could freeze the Hells. “He’s redeemed himself, believe me. He couldn’t have known it would
turn out like this.”

Zanna wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but she decided it wasn’t worth debating until she could
talk to Link for herself. Instead, she asked the obvious question. “But how could I be causing
the plague? I’ve been here. I haven’t even been conscious for most of the last week– how could
I possibly have been maintaining a curse of that magnitude? I don’t know the first thing about
black magic!”

“Neither do they,” Rowan said with a grimace.

“They’re idiots,” Resha clarified.

“None of the council has ever studied sorcery, or even heard of it except in stories. Anything is
possible, as far as they’re concerned. And the Princess, with all due respect, is only slightly
more knowledgeable herself,” Rowan said.

“Her magic comes from her connection to the Goddesses, it’s not the same,” Resha said, rolling
her eyes. “She’s never actually had to study.”

“I hate to say it,” Rowan sighed, pushing his hair out of his eyes, “but their ideas about what’s
happening are mostly superstitions, even by Sheikah standards.”

Resha snorted. “And that’s saying something.”

Zanna nodded, her brow furrowed as she processed the situation. “So they think... what? My
mere existence is causing the plague?”

“Pretty much,” Resha nodded. “They’re not trying to save the country– they’re on some stupid
witch hunt, hoping that killing one person is going to take the whole issue off their hands.”

The thoughtful look on Zanna’s face momentarily cracked and betrayed her distress, but she
reassembled herself so quickly that neither of her friends seemed to notice. “Well... how can we
be sure they’re not right? We’ve never seen anything like this curse. Maybe it is my fault,” she
said cautiously, making sure to keep her expression utterly neutral.

Rowan was horrified. “Zanna, don’t say that!” he exclaimed, staring at her as if she had gone
completely crazy. “It isn’t true– I’d swear on it. And if Caell were here he’d smack you for
even having the thought!”

Zanna grinned crookedly, trying to hide the awful dread that had settled upon her. “That’s true,”
she conceded, wistfully studying Rowan’s emerald gaze. She certainly wished Caell were here,
regardless of whether or not he smacked her. He’d have known what to think about the
situation, and Zanna was always able to count on his judgement. She sighed, settling into her
pillows.

“We’ll get out of this,” Resha said confidently, her eyes blazing as she began pacing the room
again. “I promise. I’m not letting a single one of them get away with their ignorance in tact–
it’s high time someone taught them a lesson.” She shook her head and picked up one of Zanna’s
books, opening it without really looking before she slammed it shut and put it back on the table
again. “We’ll get out of this,” she repeated.

Zanna nodded. “And then what?”

Resha stopped in her tracks, and she and Rowan exchanged somber, uncertain glances.

After a long pause, Rowan smiled sadly and sat on the edge of Zanna’s bed. “Everything will
work out, Zanna,” he said, gently squeezing her hand. “We’ll carry on. Together.”

She had to smile back, even though her heart was as heavy as lead. It was probably just denial,
but at that desperate moment in time, she almost believed him.

oXoXoXo

When her friends weren’t keeping her company, which wasn’t very often, Zanna found herself
tormented with regular visits from the castle’s head physician. Although a sweet, genuinely
caring woman, Lady Hekelfin insisted on poking, prodding, and forcing foul-smelling potions
upon Zanna at every opportunity. As one would expect from a nonmagical culture, the Hylian
idea of medicine was... lacking, to say the least. No matter how many times Zanna insisted that
she was feeling better and that Rowan and Resha had accelerated her recovery with a few basic
healing spells, Lady Hekelfin would have none of it.

It was difficult to dodge her, because she was simply too sweet for anyone to feel anger toward
her. The most Zanna had been able to do was say, “I would really, really appreciate it if you
would leave and let me take a nap now...” and that had been on the day Lady Hekelfin tried to
“bleed the infection out” by slicing up Zanna’s arms.

Every morning when the good doctor stopped by, Zanna crossed her fingers under the sheets,
hoping that Lady Hekelfin would declare she was well enough to leave her room, but her hope
was in vain. Hekelfin insisted that Zanna at least finish out the week in bed, lest she risk a
relapse.

“But I’m fine, really!” Zanna had protested when this statement was reiterated for the third time.
“It’s extremely important that I get back on my feet. And I can’t stand being cooped up in this
room all day, anyway.”

Lady Hekelfin made a “tsk, tsk, tsk,” noise and shook her head, reaching over Zanna to tuck the
blankets around her. As she did so, a pendant slipped out of the neckline of her dress and swung
almost playfully in front of Zanna’s face. It was nothing more than a glass half-orb painted with
an image of fire, but it had been so artfully and ornately crafted that the sight of it took Zanna’s
breath away. It was almost as if it was a living flame, jumping and licking at its encasement.

“That’s a beautiful pendant,” Zanna said, gesturing to it as Lady Hekelfin pulled away. “Does it
mean anything?”

For a second the doctor seemed confused, but then she glanced down at her chest and laughed,
quickly tucking the necklace away again. “Just a religious pendant,” she said, placing her hand
on her heart, where the amulet rested. “Can’t be too careful these days. I had it blessed by the
priestesses next door, but I made it myself. It’s a hobby of mine.”

“Really?” Zanna asked, genuinely surprised. “It’s gorgeous– I’ve never seen anything like it.”
If Lady Hekelfin was as good a doctor as she was an artist, Zanna wouldn’t have dreaded her
visits so much.

The older woman was so flattered that she actually blushed, bashfully holding one hand to her
cheek. “What a sweet thing to say. I could make you one, you know, if you like.” Zanna tried
to think of a nice way to decline, but the look on her face was apparently so pained that Lady
Hekelfin interpreted her answer even without words. “Not much of the religious type, eh?” she
asked, smiling benignly as she organized the vials of medicine on the far table.

“Not really...” Zanna said awkwardly. With her recent doubts, it was the most she could offer,
although the ensuing silence made her feel as though she should include some sort of qualifier or
justification.

The Lady wiped her hands on her apron and sighed. “Well, it’s not for everyone. But it brings
me peace.”

“That’s good,” Zanna said as sincerely as she could, but her stiff posture and lack of eye contact
gave away the bitterness simmering just below the surface.

Hekelfin nodded, turning toward Zanna and crossing her arms over her chest while she studied
the girl intently. After a very long pause, she drew a breath and said, “You have some
interesting scars on your back.” Zanna supposed that Lady Hekelfin was using what she thought
was an offhand air, but it was obvious that the woman had been wanting to broach the subject for
some time.

She nodded warily. “Yes, I was attacked by a wolfos several years ago. He got me pretty
good.”

Lady Hekelfin appeared troubled, and Zanna noticed she was running her fingers over her
amulet through the fabric of her dress. “You know, I could perform a minor operation to get rid
of some of that scar tissue, if you like. You would just have a couple of thin lines, rather than,
ah...” she trailed off, clearly not wanting to offend.

Zanna didn’t intend to be rude, but she couldn’t help the coldness that crept into her features
every time someone insisted talking about her scars. “No thank you,” she said curtly. “They’re
as much a part of me as the heart in my chest– I wouldn’t change them for the world.”

For a second Zanna thought Lady Hekelfin might burst into tears, but the woman just smiled
tensely and nodded with a little too much enthusiasm. “Yes, quite right. Good attitude,” she
said briskly. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, aye?” And then she veritably ran out of the room.

Zanna watched the door close behind her, utterly baffled. Well, at least I’m not the only one
going crazy around here...

oXoXoXo

Zanna had two more days of bed rest remaining, and she knew she was at her breaking point.
She couldn’t sleep and could barely eat– all she did was lay around all day. And the stillness of
the stone fortress at night was positively deafening. Zanna was used to creaking boards, howling
winds, and the crackle of fire. But here, as soon as the sun went down the castle became as quiet
as a tomb. And with the recent loss of her family, the effect made Zanna feel like she was being
buried alive...

She knew it hadn’t sunk in yet. She had been grief-stricken when she first realized what had
happened, but the reality that there was no one in the mountains waiting for her to return... That
Helyn was... gone. It just couldn’t be real. Only 16 years old, and her life was already taken.
Zanna would miss her grandmother dearly, but she’d spent her whole life preparing to lose
Cedra. Never, in her most morose fantasies had she imagined she’d outlive her little sister. The
cruelty of Helyn’s fate was horrific... maybe too horrific for Zanna to accept. All she felt was
numb. Cold. Like the exoskeleton of an insect left on a tree, when the actual creature has long
since flown away.

And inside that hollowness there was a sterile, detached, but absolutely monstrous rage that
scared Zanna half to death. In her emptiness she felt capable of sending out armies without a
second thought, of burning whole cities and viewing the damage in numbers alone, of doing...
unspeakable things, with an air of clinical practicality.

But she didn’t want to do them. Surely that counted for something. Men were not punished for
being capable of a crime– they were punished only for the crimes they actually committed.

All the same, Zanna agonized over Princess Zelda’s apparent prophecy. How could Zanna argue
with the Princess’s vision when she knew in her heart that it was a legitimate possibility? When
Zanna knew that she saw apparitions of treasonous red-haired heretics, and that every day she
felt a little less human. What kind of convincing argument could she possibly formulate?

Well, that’s the answer, then, Zanna thought suddenly, with startling clarity. She’d turn herself
in, as soon as she was allowed out of bed. She’d tell the complete truth. The red haired
apparition could go to hell, as could Zanna’s own delusions of grandeur. Perhaps it really was
possible to declare war on the Goddesses– and even acknowledging that fact sent a spark of
exhilaration through Zanna’s body– but she knew that in order to do it, she would have to
become like the Goddesses: cruel and inhuman. And Zanna refused give them that satisfaction.

So that was that. She would defy the Goddesses the only way she could: by ignoring them
completely.

You can put your mark on me, you old bats, but you’ll have to do a hell of a lot better than that if
you want me to take the bait...

oXoXoXo

Zanna was never happier to be Sheikah than she was as she crept down the castle stairs, skillfully
avoiding all detection by the guards as they carried out their midnight rounds. All week Zanna
had been staring longingly out her window and into the courtyard below, and she figured it was
about time she got a close-up view.

It was easy to become distracted by the castle’s enormous halls, narrow passageways, and
luxurious tapestries, but Zanna eventually managed to navigate her way through. As she slipped
out the door with a stealth only attainable by the Shadow Folk, she took her first breath of fresh
air in three weeks.

It was intoxicating. The courtyard was full of garden beds– barren at the moment, but soon to
flourish in the warmth of spring. The central feature of the garden was an enormous fountain,
which glittered in the silver light of the full moon. When the breeze stirred, Zanna could smell
the fresh water and the sensation made her smile. She was glad that she’d changed into her
regular clothes, because– while there was no snow like there was in the mountains– there was a
definite chill in the air. Winter had almost passed, but it was hanging on with its fingernails.

As she scanned the walls that surrounded the area, Zanna was delighted to discover that the
courtyard was very secluded. Only two windows looked down upon it, and one of them was
hers...

After a moment of debate, she decided she would take the risk, and eagerly pulled off her scarf.
The feeling of freedom was so great that she had to laugh, watching the long garment flutter in
the wind... and her hair, with it! Zanna had been covered for so long she’d almost forgotten what
her hair felt like. She’d washed it earlier that morning and tucked it under her scarf while it was
still wet, so it had a soft, silky quality it didn’t ordinarily possess. Darker than the surrounding
shadows, her waist-length hair danced in the breeze with a wildness Zanna wished she could
mimic on the inside. And yet somehow, just getting her mask off made her feel more like
herself. She ran her fingers over her right eyelid and cheekbone, where she knew her Sheikah
tattoo was, and sighed happily.

I’m still here... I’m still Zanna... The world is not ending yet...

Zanna heard someone clear his throat nearby, and she spun around with a gasp. Link was
standing in the courtyard, about eight feet to her right, holding his hands up innocently to show
that he’d not intended to startle her. Feeling instantly flustered, Zanna fumbled frantically to
find the end of her scarf so that she could cover herself again, but Link shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said, taking a few steps toward her. “I mean, I’ve already gotten a good look.. I
won’t tell if you won’t.” He smiled, and Zanna felt her face flush.

“I guess there’s no point, if you’ve been standing there a while...” Zanna sighed, abandoning her
efforts to re-wrap her scarf. She peered suspiciously at the Hero out of the corner of her eye.
“Have you?” she asked, dreading the answer. “Been standing there awhile, that is.”

Link grinned apologetically. “I followed you out. I was afraid one of the guards might catch
you, and I’d have to intercede.”

Zanna groaned, briefly covering her eyes with her hand as she felt herself blush again. “That’s
so embarrassing,” she moaned. Link laughed so loudly that Zanna had to look around to make
sure no one had heard him, but she couldn’t deny that it was a very nice sound. “What were you
doing up, anyway?” she asked, closing the extra distance between them and folding her arms
across her chest. “I thought I was being so... sneaky.”

Link chuckled. “You were. You were extremely sneaky. But they don’t call me the Hero for
nothing.”

Zanna feigned irritation. “Don’t let it go to your head, they’re probably just afraid you’ll banish
them the way you banished Twilight,” she said dryly. “But seriously, what were you doing up?”

He shrugged, stretching and looking casually around the courtyard. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said,
giving her a regretful smile. “There’s been a lot to think about, and not enough time to do it.”
He sat down on the edge of the fountain, leaning back on his hands. “Mind if I keep you
company?” he asked. After a brief moment of hesitation, Zanna shook her head and joined him.
They sat in companionable silence for awhile as she watched the sky and struggled to decide
how she would ask the questions that needed to be asked. It was strange... she somehow felt
utterly comfortable around Link. They barely knew each other, but it didn’t feel that way.
Zanna couldn’t account for it. Perhaps it was her empathy...

Eventually, she realized that Link was staring at her. Probably studying her tattoo, she told
herself, but staring at her all the same. It was something she was completely unused to– she felt
oddly... exposed.

“Is something wrong?” Zanna asked awkwardly, grateful that it was difficult to distinguish color
in the moonlight. She was blushing so furiously that she suspected someone could fry an egg on
her forehead.

“No,” Link said quickly, clearly embarrassed to have been caught staring. “Not at all! Sorry, I
didn’t think you’d noticed...” he added sheepishly. His brow furrowed while he apparently
searched for the right explanation. “It’s just... it’s strange seeing your whole face.” He studied
her again, thoughtfully tilting his head to the side. “You– all three of you– wear your scarves so
well. It suits you. Sometimes I forget that underneath...” Link cleared his throat and looked
away, glancing up at the moon. When he looked back at Zanna, he was grinning. “But this suits
you better, I think,” he said, playfully tugging on the end of Zanna’s hair. “You seem entirely
different with your hair down. Freer, I guess. It’s nice.”

They shared a smile, until Zanna had to break away to avoid blushing again. “I feel different
with my hair down,” she sighed, tilting her face up toward the sky and taking a deep breath. “I
hate those scarves.”

“That’s what Rowan said,” Link smirked. “Now that I see you without it, it doesn’t surprise
me.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Zanna asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Link said innocently, although his smile was mischievous. “Nothing at all.”

Zanna studied him suspiciously. “If you say so...”

“Did your tattoo hurt?” Link asked after a pause, his gaze locked on Zanna’s right eye again.
Her earlier suspicion had been right– he was intrigued by the marking.

Zanna reflexively ran her fingertips over her brow bone, remembering what it had felt like to
have the eye and teardrop of her people permanently engraved on her face. “What do you
think?” she asked with a wolfish grin.

Link smiled. “Right. Stupid question.”

Zanna laughed. “To be honest, we could probably numb the pain with a spell, but it would kind
of defeat the purpose. Every Sheikah has a unique tattoo, and taking your mark is a rite of
passage for us.” Her large, dark eyes saddened as she realized her mistake, and she slowly
corrected herself: “Was a rite of passage.” The words were bitter on her tongue.

Link reached out and covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry about your village,” he said, and
when Zanna looked up into his crystalline gaze, she knew that he meant it.

She nodded, forcing a quick smile. “Thanks,” she said, her voice soft and thick with tears. Link
didn’t say anything in response– he just interlaced his fingers with hers and let Zanna have a
moment of silence to collect herself. The tiny gesture sent a strange prickle of energy across her
skin, and the feeling of companionship it created warmed her slightly. Zanna felt no obligation
to grieve or to not grieve, like she did with Rowan and Resha. She was certain that Link didn’t
mind either way. The quiet camaraderie was refreshing.

After she was sure she was ready to put the topic aside, she tilted her head and examined Link’s
expression carefully. She could always tell an honest face from a dishonest one, and seeing as
how it felt somehow invasive to poke around Link’s emotions, Zanna decided that reading his
face would have to do. “You knew we would have to kill the Winged Sheikah when we found
her,” she said, carefully watching his response.

Link sighed heavily, and nodded. “Yes, I did.” He locked eyes with her to show his sincerity
before continuing. “Zelda told me that the village wouldn’t take too kindly to that information
and that I should keep it a secret. I didn’t like doing it that way, but I was so certain that when
we found the Winged Sheikah, all of you would agree that he had to be killed,” he grimaced. “I
thought we’d find some blatantly evil... monster of a man. I didn’t think...” His voice trailed off
doubtfully, and when he looked at Zanna again his eyes were full of guilt.

“That it would be me?” Zanna supplied neutrally.

Link frowned. “It’s not you,” he said with certainty, studying the water to his right as it
cascaded from the top of the fountain and into the shimmering pool below.

“How do you know?” Zanna asked. His confidence in her was making her feel worse than if
he’d said outright that he thought she was causing the plague.

Link shrugged, shifting his weight. “I know. You don’t have the mark Zelda told me to look
for, and you’re just...” he smiled at her– “You’re not. You’re not evil; I know it.” His smile
quickly faded when Zanna looked at him as though he’d just slaughtered the family pet.
“What?” he asked in alarm. “What did I say?”

Zanna shook her head helplessly, afraid that if she spoke she would cry. She bowed her head for
a moment, and when she looked back up at him her eyes were cold. “I don’t know it,” she said
at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so worried... I’m terrified that they’re right.”

“No,” Link said firmly, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “They’re wrong, and we’ll prove it.
I’m completely sure.”

“But my scars,” Zanna protested, vaguely remembering one of the conversations she’d heard in
between her fever dreams.

“It’s a coincidence,” he said, his expression grave. “I don’t question Zelda’s vision, but you lack
the one thing that could positively identify the Winged Sheikah. I won’t sit by while they
imprison you for no reason other than their own fear. We’ll fight it. The council is full of lazy
cowards– don’t let them make you question yourself.”

Something about the courage– the utter confidence with which he spoke the words– instantly
made Zanna feel better about the situation. “What’s the one thing that can identify her?” she
asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Link sighed. “I can’t tell you,” he said regretfully. “But trust me, you don’t have it.” He smiled
at her and squeezed her hand, before turning his gaze to the stars.

Zanna frowned, watching a wispy tuft of a cloud make its way beneath the moon, gleaming and
ethereal. She wanted to believe him, but if she wasn’t the Winged Sheikah, then what was she?
It would be nice to think her dreams and the apparition she’d seen were just figments of her
imagination– conjured up by too much stress. That was feasible, considering how troubled
Zanna was by the world around her. She worried a lot. Maybe... maybe it was all just a horrible
coincidence.

But Zanna didn’t believe in coincidences.

Her expression soured as she realized with a surge of bitterness that this– all of this– must have
been terribly amusing for the Goddesses. How ironic it would be if Zanna were to die at the
hands of the royal family, like so many of her ancestors, but this time because she was accused
of having some sinister connection to the Goddesses or their Great Destiny. It was almost
inconceivable that Zanna could be significant enough to merit such attention to detail, but there
was no doubt that it was a sublimely cruel and appropriate fate.

“I’m sorry I brought you here, and that I couldn’t get you released like I promised,” Link said,
interrupting Zanna’s swirling thoughts.

He felt worse about it than he was letting on, Zanna noticed, because even though she was trying
to block his emotions out she felt a surge of remorse as he spoke the words. She realized their
hands were still touching, which accounted for the unusual breach. Finally, she just shrugged.
“Don’t worry about it...” she said halfheartedly. Zanna studied his sincere expression, still
feeling the waves of regret that were rolling off of him, and could not contain herself.

She burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she saw Link’s vaguely horrified expression, but it just made her
laugh harder. “I want to be gracious, but I’m kind of sorry you brought me here, too,” she said
as she clutched her sides. “It’s been a pretty awful trip...” She tried to apologize again, but she
dissolved into another fit of laughter.

When she had finally calmed herself down, Zanna smiled at Link, who was scowling deeply, his
arms crossed over his chest. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” he said stiffly, and Zanna could
tell that not only did he still feel guilty– he was now embarrassed by her outburst.

“I’m sorry,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Please, don’t feel badly on my account.
I learned long ago that wishing things could have been different is utterly useless.” Zanna
carefully lowered the barrier she’d been keeping between them and sent him a wave of
contentment and reassurance. It wasn’t her strongest ability, but this sort of “backwards
empathy”was Zanna’s way of making amends– sort of like an inward hug.

“What was that?” Link asked, his head snapping up.

He seemed alarmed, so Zanna quickly removed her hand. “Nothing...” she said innocently.

“You’re lying,” Link said, and it was his turn to peer at her suspiciously.

Zanna gave a sheepish grin. “Empathy. I’m just trying to make you feel better,” she said
apologetically. “Look, don’t beat yourself up about this.”

Link smiled humorlessly, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

Zanna sighed. “I never take my own advice. I’m not a trustworthy source.” After a brief pause
she stood up and stretched, stifling a yawn before smiling sleepily at Link. “These aren’t the
best of times, but... I’m still very glad to have met you. And I’m grateful– Resha told me that
you stood up to the council for me while I was in my cell.”

Link made a dismissive gesture. “It was the least I could do.”

Zanna nodded slowly, her smile wistful as she savored the last moments of her freedom. Then,
with nimble fingers she quickly re-wrapped her scarf, encasing herself once again in the image
of an extinct people. “Good night,” she said as she turned to leave. “I’m glad you followed
me.”

“Me too,” Link said. He waited until Zanna was almost to the door before calling her name. She
was surprised, but she turned around and waited curiously for him to speak. “I’m glad I met you
too,” he grinned.

Zanna nodded, knowing he wouldn’t be able to tell if she was smiling or not. But she knew. As
she waved and disappeared back into the castle, she was positively beaming.

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