[ZGen] The Legend of Zelda: Loyalty and Betrayal (M-Violence and War)

Chapter 1: The Knights of Hyrule

It had just reached that time when the local milk bar had changed from the friendly place to which children flock after their lessons to the more adult oriented fixture of an evening. The band had just begun to play, and the bartender had just begun to crack open bottles of beverages more suited to the evening’s environment. The innocent milk that had previously littered the tabletop for the schoolchildren of Hyrule begun to be replaced by the more hearty drinks of the soldiers and store holders who were just coming to the end of their day’s work and frequenting their usual eve time hovel where they might achieve respite from their aching bones that surely follow a day in the life of an adult.

Two men were amongst the first to take up a seat at the bar. Their faces were well known in Hyrule as they made up half of the most elite branch of Hyrule’s military. Two great Knights were sat at the bar, deep in conversation, following a day’s training with their troops. One was the archetypal Hylian. He was tall, well built and dressed in a fine forest-green tunic, becoming of a knight of the realm. His hair was unnatural yellow-blonde and his eyes a striking blue. The other knight, however, was far different in appearance from his fellow. His attire was skin-tight and highlighted the extreme definition in his muscle. Despite the tone with which his body was adorned, he was far more thinly set than the Hylian. His body was clearly built for agility, not for strength. His armoured clothes were indigo, treading the border between the purest blue and the deepest purple, and adorning them was the logo of a blood red eye with three lashes decorating the top eyelid and a single tear, red as the eye itself, completing the symbol which was worn so proudly upon the knight’s chest. His face was covered by a white cloth masking his appearance in all but the necessary gap through which his own red eyes must have seen. His hair, a similar blonde to his colleague, and it peeked, wild and untamed through the gaps in his mask. This man was one of the Shadow Folk, a mysterious race of whom even the most learned know little of their culture.

Their conversation having been at a stand still for quite some time, the Hylian, being a good number of drinks ahead of his friend, broke the silence into which they had fallen.

“Sheik, lighten up! Have a drink!” said the Hylian, promptly taking his own advice, finishing another bottle of indiscernible, yet clearly very alcoholic, liquid. The purple clad Knight barely made a movement of his scarlet eyes, and responded in a slow voice, full of meaning even where there was none, a voice to bring a chill to those who were not expecting it.

“I can’t.” Sheik said, his confusion turning slowly into terror. “Something… something is wrong. Something is happening somewhere.”

At almost precisely the moment Sheik had uttered these words, a Goron entered the bar to a great uproar. He boastfully swaggered to the two Knights; he obviously made up another quarter of their elite division. Dressed in plate red armour and with white hair surrounding his face so that beard was hardly distinguished from his hair, the Goron enigmatically thrust the palms of his hands onto the shoulders of his compatriots. The green knight almost dropped his, now refilled, bottle while Sheik, the purple Knight, fell off his bar stool entirely. The Hylian laughed, heartily, and retaliated with a similar sign of masculinity in a firm punch to the Goron’s arm. Being a creature of rock, however, the Goron’s arm came off in far less pain than the fist of the Hylian, but neither seemed to acknowledge this and exchanged their mutual greeting. Sheik, however, merely sat back upon his stool and spoke not a word regarding the addition to their company at the bar.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked the Goron, gesturing towards the silent knight.

“Something’s happening somewhere.” replied the Hylian, nonchalant.

“By the goddesses,” began the Goron, sarcastically, “are you sure? Whatever will we do! Should you alert the King, Rinku, or shall I?” Noticing the obvious lack of humour with which his still-silent friend was taking his response, his sarcasm became more understanding in tone. “Sheik, something is always happening somewhere, you can be sure of that- but do you know what else you can be sure of?” The Goron quickly returned to his previous boastful tone- “That when it does we’ll be here to stop it happening! Ha!” with his final syllable the Goron took a swig of his drink which the barkeep instinctively had prepared upon his arrival. Looking around the bar, the Goron’s pride became puzzlement as he asked his fellows a question. “Where’s Kael?”

The green-clad Hylian Knight, Rinku responded with as much disinterest as his previous statement.

“Probably off swimming.”

“Gah,” the Goron remarked, making his opinion on swimming abundantly clear in this one distasteful noise. “Bloody fishes. Can never see the appeal personally. But then again, I doubt that he can understand the pleasure of a good roll against a lava flow!” Sheik then broke his silence for the first time since the Goron’s arrival.

“How are the mountains, Darnté?”

“By the gods, he speaks!” said Darnté, the red-armoured Goron, with a feigned surprise. “Well, better than they’ve been in a while. Did I tell you? We got the dragon. Blasted thing was nestled all the way in the depths of the mountain, but we found him, and well.” He patted the large Hammer clasped to his back with pride, and perhaps with a vague sense of gingerly affection for the weapon- or as gingerly as a Goron is able to show affection. He continued his story, “I’d’ve invited you along for the fight, but well. Lava and humans…” He trailed off, piteously. Rinku fell for the bait and reacted, jokingly.

“Don’t rub it in!” Rinku exclaimed, always upset as to missing out on a good fight, particularly one involving a dragon. Darnté sensed his anguish, however exaggerated.

“Aw, don’t worry about it. We’re working on a little something for you guys, it’ll mean next time there’s a dragon you guys can do a little slaying of your own despite your lack of natural heat-proofing!”
As Darnté finished his sentence, one who would not have any desire to enter a volcano, no matter how glorious the battle, entered the bar. He was tall and covered in scales, each shining a different shade of blue and teal. Uncharacteristically, it was Sheik who first reacted to his presence.

“We were wondering where you were.” said the purple knight, with an implied sense of disapproval. The Zora, Kael, the blue knight, reacted with a similar indignity.

“And I’m wondering why you’re out tonight- aren’t you on guard tomorrow morning?” his words awoke a less passive side of the usually silent knight.

“I’m not drinking.” Sheik ensured the Zora with disguised malice, “In fact, I’m going now. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” With this he stood up from his bar stool and headed outside into the streets of the Castle Town. Before he was even free of the building, however, Kael had already adopted his seat at the bar, the bartender having supplied him with what was clearly his ‘usual’.

“What’s up with him?” asked the Zora, beginning to embark on a planned long night of drinking.

“Something’s happening somewhere.” explained the Goron, helpfully, imitating the response given to him previously by Rinku.

“Again?” said Kael, rhetorically. He continued with similar irony, “Shocker.” He carried on drinking. Rinku, however, showed more concern. He hurriedly fumbled through his pockets and left a number of red rupees on the surface of the bar.

"Have the next round on me, guys.” he said, "“I’m going to head home.”

The red and blue knights said their goodbyes to their friend in green, and continued their conversations of past valour as Rinku left the bar in a hurry to catch up with Sheik and to discover what truly was affecting him that evening.

Chapter 2: Familiar Places and Familiar Faces

Kakariko was a quiet village with seemingly little to add to the rest of Hyrule. It was home to the Shadow Folk, of whom Sheik was a member. These red-eyed denizens of the village were the epitome of secretive, not only the tribe kept apart from the rest of Hyrule, but the happenings of even one household within the community were scarcely talked about with its own neighbour. The tribe was as silent as the shadows with which they associated. There was no such thing as ‘small talk’ in this place. If a resident opened their mouth to break words with you, you could be sure that they would be the most important words you had heard that entire day, if not longer.

One of the Tribe, a woman named Impa, was of particular importance. In appearance she was typical of a female Shadow Folk. Her hair was a bright silver despite her relative youth and she was taller than most males of any other tribe, though still of average height within the tribe itself. She wore a navy blue body suit detailed with plate steel over her torso and her lower eyelids were made up with the same stylised eyelashes that decorated the upper eyelids of the familiar symbol on her chest.

In her house, as elaborate as her race is talkative, Impa had a very important visitor, though to Impa this was nothing more than a visit from a good friend.

“Does Sheik sense something too?” asked the princess, Zelda, in a voice of both familiarity and concern.

“I suspect he does.” Impa replied, knowingly, “His link with the arcane magics is stronger than mine. If I can sense something is wrong, then he must be certain of it.”

“Do you know what it is?” Zelda added, hastily, “Do you know what it is that is happening?” her words came out, forced, hiding the anxiety with which Impa’s words had left her. Impa replied in brutal honesty.

“I have no idea.” and then, sensing this as a worry to her friend, added in consolation “Maybe Sheik does- although the magics of this world are difficult to interpret, even for the Shadow Folk. But dark times are ahead, my princess.” she crossed over to a window, frosted with a thousand drops of rain. “Dark times indeed.”

The purpose of her position by the window became clear when through the door burst a typically silent Sheik, his feet barely sounding as though they made contact with the ground. Behind him came the much contrasting figure of Rinku who, out of breath, frantically pushed forward an arm to prevent the door Sheik had opened from slamming shut in his face.

“All I’m saying Sheik is that you need to tell us more of these premonitions you get.” Rinku implored with earnest.

“They are not important.” Sheik brushed off the inquisition. Rinku, however, was not to be beaten.

“I know sometimes they’re nothing, and I know that sometimes we tease you when it seems like you’ve sensed only that the bazaar’s run out of arrows, but…” his voice grew softer “…sometimes they are far from nothing, Sheik. The last time I saw you this bothered by a vision was when you saw the coming of that dragon on Death Mountain. If you hadn’t had told us then hundreds of Goron lives would have been lost.” Sheik cut his sentence off at the moment he had finished with his own firm, but emotionless rebuttal

“Hundreds were.” he said in his familiar voice, suited to the shadow.

“But far fewer than if you’d kept what you’d seen a secret.” Rinku’s imploration became begging, “Listen, please just talk to me. We’re knights. We’re knights of the crown. More than that Sheik, we’re friends.” Rinku was slightly hurt by the lack of response this claim achieved, but he carried on regardless, “Talk to me. We can fight it, we always do.”

“Nothing can fight this...” began Sheik, before his own words were cut off by a new voice.

“So you have felt it.” Zelda’s words were enough to ignite the most ungraceful of responses from both the knights. While it was in character for Rinku, it was almost comical to see the look of horror on Sheik’s face as he realised what company they kept. The two of them fell to one knee in reverence to their princess, and Rinku began to speak, stuttering.

“Excuse me, Princess, I apologise… I… I did not notice you there; I was so deep in discussion with…”

“Stand up!” said the Princess, stifling a laugh. “Does this look like the palace? I am no princess here. I am merely one person concerned about an old friend.” She looked between the two knights before addressing Rinku once more. “Much like it seems are you.” She noted the similar concern Rinku held for Sheik which she too had been feeling for Impa only moments before. After a pensive moment she began to speak again. “Although it is about time I return to the castle.” Holding out her arm to Rinku, who was still kneeling having refused through honour to stand in the presence of his Princess, she continued with a subtle sense of sarcasm “Oh, most noble knight, would you be so kind as to escort your princess?”

This request caused him to stand bolt upright, a far more satisfactory result than the Princess’s previous request, “Of course, your majesty.” He then turned to his friend- “Sheik- please- remember what I’ve said.” He returned his attention to Zelda, “Come, Princess.” No sooner than the two Hylians had left the room, Sheik turned with a horrified look towards Impa. He spoke, brash and accusatory, a tone which, when coupled with his voice’s natural depth, came forth almost as a roar.

“What have you seen? What have you told her?” Impa seemed unfazed by the anger which would have caused many to freeze in fear, and spoke in a voice so dreadfully calm that it would have been less affecting if she had also roared.

“I have seen enough to know why you are finding it so difficult to confide in your oldest friend.” Sheik either was unaffected by the guilt this statement was supposed to invoke, or was very good at hiding it.

“We will all be destroyed.” He said as if to justify his decision to keep it secret from the Hylians. “I can see it. We are people of the shadows and to that shadow we will all be banished. I must put the safety and wellbeing of our own people before our duty to the Hylians.” Impa’s retaliating words came as close to shouting as she had come thus far, but retaining the quiet dignity to which she was accustomed.

“But not…” she started in a half-roar before returning serenity to her manner, “Not before our duty to the gods.” Impa attempted a kinder approach to discovering the truths of their shared visions. “Sheik,” she put a hand on his shoulder “what have you seen exactly?”

Sheik did not even turn to look at Impa. Staring straight out of the window into the rain, he spoke but a single word, so soft that Impa was perhaps not sure if he had really said anything at all.

“Darkness.”

Chapter 3: The Shadow Council

The room in which this chapter takes place could not be more different from those of the previous two. This is, perhaps, ironic considering its location.

It was a room darker than the dusk, but lighter than midnight. It appeared to welcome light into its halls like an angler fish welcomes smaller fish into its jaws, both proceeding to clamp down upon their new found prey with unbridled ferocity.

The light that survived the inherent darkness of the space clung as if for dear life onto the particles that floated, as if by divine purpose, around the room giving the effect of a hundred tiny fireflies, desperate to escape the gloom.

A thin, bluish-grey hand brushed through these aerial particles, and several stuck diligently to the digits. The hand proceeded to brush the dust which sat thinly on the table in front of it. Between the forefinger and thumb, the hand held but a few grains of this dust, and rubbed its fingers slowly, letting the particles fall gradually back onto the table, once more united with their precious reflecting light. As the last grain fell, the hand became a fist. It slammed onto the table causing the newly rested dust to billow out from the pocket of air and meet their friends which were dancing in the patches of light. The hand belonged to a tall, hooded figure with piercing red eyes and a face as emaciated as his hand. He was clearly one of the Shadow Folk, but he lacked the pigmentation of the skin which we have hitherto seen in the tribe. This could only be explained by the fact this man had most likely not seen the light of day in a very long time, and all melanin in his skin had become as lifeless as the dust which had now returned to the floor, having been abandoned by the light. This man lived for the shadow which was his race’s namesake.

Sitting at the table with the hooded figure were a number of others. They too wore hoods as if to keep their faces permanently in the shadow. They, however, were still positively healthy in appearance compared to this man whose skin was so shrunken than his red eyes appeared as orbs of fire, and his teeth as fangs. This Wizard, Akhan, was clearly of some authority to the others at the table. He eventually spoke in a husky drawl, his voice filled with as much malice as the fire in his eyes or the sharpness of his fangs, which could have been ground to points.

“Yet another day…” Akhan began, giving a false sense of serenity before giving the characteristic roar of a Shadow Folk in wrath, “Another day using us!” There was a brief silence before one of the other members of this unholy council spoke in retaliation. It was a feeble voice spoken out of fear rather than insistence.

"Master, it is our duty to serve…” his words were cut off mid-sentence by Akhan.

“Duty to whom?” he asked, expecting no answer, “We sit here, working our magics, forging tools for them to use. Use for what? Nothing!” With this he approached an altar filled with relics of all shapes and sizes, masks and mirrors and canes. He picked up a nondescript ceramic plate which shared the same three-lashed eye which adorned every artefact in the room. His rant continued, disjointed but meaningful. “All this- useless rubbish. All our greatest sorcerers and craftsmen, working non-stop, every time we create anything even vaguely worth something…” He looked down at the ceramic he was holding, and then clutched it with a false sense of care and consideration to his chest. “It’s too dangerous” he mimicked in a mockingly high voice, “What use is this in our perfect little community? These magics don’t honour the gods.” In disgust he threw the plate against a wall where it promptly shattered into a hundred pieces of bright blue flame and a noise oddly reminiscent of a lamb before it is slaughtered, only magnified tenfold. The others at the table remained frozen in fear.

Akhan regained his composure and again addressed his colleague. “What good is honouring the gods when they don’t honour us? Why do they get the power and we get the job of rejected artist? No more, my brethren. I’m sure you have all sensed it. The time is coming,” he assured his peers, “Our time will be here soon. We can feel the shadows creeping in, dimming out the light. The age of the Hylia is coming to its end.” This final sentence was too much for the previously timid member of the council who has spoken up before. He stood up, resolute, and addressed his fellow tribesman.

“Akhan- enough!” None knew from whence his sudden confidence had arrived, but a number of the council were glad it had as the challenger railed against the claims make by Akhan. “We were put here by the gods to serve the Hylia! It is your job as leader of the council and chief advisor to the King to warn him of the visions we have seen!” On a roll, the man began to encourage the rest of the council to rail with him, “It is our place to protect the Royal Family from the darkness that is coming, not to aid or become it- that is how I read these signs. We have been granted exaltation above nearly every other race of this world in exchange for our allegiance to the Royal Family. We should be grateful for our position considering the past anguish we have caused this world. We are their teachers, their priests, their advisors. Nigh on every other tribe envies our position. Is this not enough for you?” Akhan manoeuvred his way slowly towards his subordinate. The silence with which he did so caused the purely temporary gall in the man to diminish, and the look of nobility that had been in his eyes had reverted to the terror with which they were originally marked. In a sudden break of the silence that caused every occupier of the room to leap backwards in fright, Akhan slammed his hand onto the table in front of the one who had challenged him, and he let out a roar unparalleled by anything of this world.

“Our magics outdo that of the Hylia a hundred times over. A child of our tribe has more magic in his little finger than the Hylians have in their entire race, and I am supposed to sit here, content to be their caretaker?” He lifted his hand in a fist, ready to strike. He was, however, distracted by a small, cackling voice which spoke over the silence.

“You underestimate the magic of the Hylia.” Akhan turned to see no-one. It was only when he lowered his gaze that he noticed the diminutive stature of a small, green-skinned pair of witches dressed in clothes suited to blot out the desert sun.

“Know your place, Gerudo.” Akhan said indignantly to the witch with the red jewel, Koume, who had spoken out, “What right do you have to talk to us on the subject of magic?” Completely unfazed by Akhan’s relative stature and ability to intimidate, Koume responded with a similar joviality to her first remark.

“Well we managed to break the little shield spell you put on this temple here, gatecrash your little meeting.”

“We have our own magic too you know.” quipped Koume's sister, Kotake, the blue witch. Akhan let out a roaring laugh, followed by a voice clearly unbelieving of the Gerudo’s insistence,

“Are you suggesting,” he began through his laughter, “your vague grasp of elemental magic should impress us?” His humour turned to distaste as he continued. “Why don’t you go away and return once you can do more than just make the room a little warmer?” Koume, however, remained resolute.

“Well, like you say, our magic pales in comparison to your mighty race,” she began, with a false flattery more sickening than her green skin, “but we can tell you how you can get the power you so rightfully deserve, and in return you help us get that little bit closer to our own.”

“Surely you don’t have to worry about Gerudo magic ever outdoing your own, vastly superior, forms.” Kotake cut in before being interrupted by her more forceful sister who all but finished her sentence.

“But something a little more than just fire and ice would be… beneficial to our society.”

“What do you think you know that can help us?” Akhan asked hiding the fact he was becoming truly interested in what the witches had to say by his arrogance. Koume began to recount the story, and the two witches spoke in canon, swapping sentence by sentence.

“Well the legends of the Triforce.”

“The True Force to govern all.”

“It is guarded by a great people. Not of our world, a people closer to the gods even than the Hylia.”

“It was they who founded this land, determined its hierarchy, put the Hylians in charge.”

“The goddesses created this world, the raw material, but these men shaped it into a civilisation. They created Hyrule as we know it.”

A new member of the council, hitherto silent, was the first to interrupt the history lesson the witches were providing.

“You insult us with your account witches!” He exclaimed, “We have been in the service of the Royal House for centuries. Surely we know more of the Triforce and its guardians than you can possibly comprehend!” Kotake was the first to speak this time, in rebuttal.

“Oh, of course you know more of its magic. It’s purpose.” Then Koume continued.

“But of its location- Where to find the relic.”

“Only the King knows its location.”

“The King… and us. We are old. And we know the truth.”

“We were there when the Hylians were granted the power. Only little girls then, but we know more than you when it comes to the intricacies of the ancient magic they possess.” Akhan then interrupted, in a tone inquisitive, far removed from his usual rage.

“How can I believe you to be so ancient?”

“The Gerudo are a warrior people.” Koume explained, somewhat embarrassed in her manner. “We fight! Live by the sword, and live only until we die by it. We… We, however, are not the fighting type.” Akhan reacted with mirth to the witches’ account of their shame.

“No. We hear stories of you- the Gerudo Witches. Locked away in your rooms studying arcane magics.” He turned a wide, red eye towards them, and lowered himself to their level as a disappointed father would to a naughty child. “Hardly honourable behaviour for a society of warriors. You must be far from the most popular of your race.” Koume carried on with her story as if this embarrassing moment had not occurred, shrugging off the feelings of humiliation which this realisation had brought.

“The Triforce sleeps beneath the palace.”

“In a realm just beyond ours.”

“The location of the force and its nature are kept secret to all, even the closest friends and servants of the royal family. It is believed by many to be just myth. For should word get out of the real location of the power to rule everything. If you wish to overthrow the Hylians, you must gain the Triforce for yourself, it is more powerful than all your magics combined- one touch and all your wishes will come to fruition!”

“Why are you telling us this?” out spoke a suspicious Akhan. “If you desire power so greatly, and have known this for so long- why have you not attempted to gain the Triforce for yourself?” The witches were quick to reply.

“With Gerudo magic?” asked Koume, innocently. “No. We lack the power.”

“And the influence.” continued Kotake from the end of her sister’s sentence. “But you… You have both. We have before kept this information secret, but now. We have too seen the signs of the oncoming darkness, and in your new world, all we ask for is a fraction of the power for ourselves.”

“But all this information is fruitless.” Koume chimed in with a feigned sigh. “The magics guarding the Triforce are more ancient and powerful than anything you’ve dreamed. The King alone has the ability to approach the force. Ancient magics greater than even you prevent unholy hands from reaching it. You will not be able to get close.” These words came as intended, as a challenge to the Wizard.

“Perhaps not.” he admitted as he searched through the pile of magical artefacts he had previously left so dishevelled until he came upon one which resembled a stone corset, but lacking any sense of femininity. It was decorated with the Shadow Folk’s symbol on one side, but missing the characteristic tear, and on the other was a single, slanted eye. He held it to his face, proudly. He then finished his sentence, with the power of this artefact in mind. “But we can hide in the shadows of one who can.”

Veeeerry interesting! I had a feeling the Fused Shadow would have something to do with this!

Chapter 4: Less than Sound Advice

The grounds of Hyrule Castle were especially beautiful that day. The week’s rain had come to an end, leaving the grassy hillsides almost glowing in the sunlight. The natural bounce that the freshly grown grass had brought to the ground invited playtime for the citizens of Hyrule, however old they may be. Such a day was one to restore youth in anyone.

In the courtyard the young Prince was rolling on the grass in a manner one might deem unbefitting of a future King. The day, however, was just so beautiful that one could hardly think badly of the Prince for being drawn to such behaviour. Joining him in the courtyard were his older sister, the Princess Zelda, and his fiancée. The two girls were sitting beneath a tree, rolling their eyes as to the Prince’s boyish behaviour whilst secretly being tempted by the joy on his face to join him in his foolishness.

Soon it was no temptation that encouraged his sister and his fiancée to join his game, as the Prince literally leapt upon them, dragging them both to the floor, kicking and screaming, laughing hysterically as they joined his play in mirth.

From within the Castle itself, the King stood at a window watching his daughter, son and his lover playing together so happily and care free. The post-card image brought a smile to his face that could be discerned easily even through his thick beard.

“Look at them.” The King said with an obviously put-on tone of disapproval. “The future of this country, and they’re playing.” He sighed, “Oh to be young again.” The man with whom he was conversing spoke in a familiar, dry voice.

“Yes sir.” Spoke Akhan, the Wizard, “It is a wish of which many of us dream.”

“I really do feel blessed,” the King continued in the manner of a loving father, caught between his status and his desire to go join his children on the grass, “My son and his fiancée. It is such a great thing that he has found someone- someone I can be sure will help him bring this great land into even greater prospects when he takes the throne.”

“Of course, your majesty.” From the King’s side came the slimy voice of the Wizard in agreement. “We can all hope and pray that your reign is far from nearing its end.”

“Oh, yes, yes, there’s no worry about that!” the King shrugged off this mention of his eventual death and placed a hand on his advisor’s shoulder. “Besides,” he continued, “I love my son, but I don’t think he is quite yet mature enough for the throne.” Not to be seen to doubt his son’s abilities, he qualified this statement. “However, I’m sure, should the situation occur, he would rise to the occasion! Besides, he has his soon to be bride to stand by him. And his sister will no doubt aid him.” Akhan then spoke, honestly quite perplexed as to the Princess’ nature.

“I must say it surprises me that Zelda has taken so well to the news of the Prince’s marriage.” the King responded to this with a look of puzzlement. Akhan then clarified his view. “Well, for the heir to the throne to be married- this surely only prepares him to provide another heir to come before her in the line of successors. Surely his marriage begets nothing to her but the ever more developing unlikelihood of her own role as Queen.”

“Zelda? Ha! She cares not for power.” The King replied, honestly amused by the concept of his daughter being hungry for the reign, “All that matters to her is that Hyrule be kept pure and in order of the gods. She learns with your people of our histories and the powers of the goddesses- As long as her faith and wisdom is maintained within our family line, the monarchy is undoubtedly safe. Besides, when my son does take the throne it would surprise me greatly if his sister is not elevated to the highest position available- perhaps in his time it will be she who takes your place as advisor to the King!” he patted his Kingly hand again on the Wizard’s shoulder to a forced smirk on Akhan’s face. “He really does care for her more than anything else in this entire world. With the possible exception of his fiancée, of course!” the King delved into the realms of nostalgia, “But those two growing up- he and his sister. Their love is one pure so that nothing could set them against each other.”

“Yes. I am sure together they will rule the country with all the powers the goddesses granted your family.” The Wizard’s tone suddenly turned into one of mischief, “Well, perhaps not all the powers.”

“What do you mean in that, my friend?” the King entreated his advisor.

“I mean simply that the power granted to you by the gods, it perhaps isn’t entirely your own. The Triforce, the gods’ gift to the world, to you and your family, your majesty.”

“The King has the authority to use the Triforce wherever he sees fit,” said the king in earnest to maintain the honour of his family with the gods, “with its power has been stopped many a war, destroyed many a demon.”

“But do you really control the full power of the Force, my liege?” the Wizard began his ploy, “That ancient race who guard the force. Surely it is they who govern this land truly, using you as a figurehead while they rule this land from behind a veil.” The Wizard placed one grey hand on his King’s shoulder, and with the other gestured to the grand hall in which they stood. “Do not forget that this land is named for your great people, the great Hylian Rule. Do you really accept being controlled by a group of unseen old men content to hide and gather all the powers of the gods for themselves?”

“The Oocca have been nothing but a boon to this world; they shaped everything we now take for granted.” The King for a moment sounded as though he was trying to convince himself of this fact, as much as Akhan. “The Oocca were appointed by the same gods who appointed the Hylians as rulers.”

“Who cares what the gods decide?” In this sentence was the Wizard’s greatest error. The King would have none of anyone speaking ill of the gods.

“That is enough!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the great hall. He gave a small cough and regained his posture as he placed both hands on his advisor’s shoulders, and looked him straight in the eye. “You are one of my oldest and dearest friends, but I will not accept you denying the will of the gods! So powerful a wizard and prophet as you should know the importance of the gods’ decisions.” The King was now resolute. “The gods have decided that the Triforce be guarded by the Oocca and, seeing as the gods have also granted us so many great things in this world, I am not about to risk this country’s happiness over some conspiracy theory! The Triforce will remain in the custody of the Oocca for as long as I am King, for so the gods demand!” Akhan slunk away giving an impression of penitence.

“Yes your majesty, forgive my, impudence. I was merely looking out for your family’s wellbeing.” The Wizard lied.

“I’m sure you were,” the King said, leaving the room, “But I am not one to question the gods.” With this, the King was no longer in the company of the Wizard. Akhan’s face showed signs of a plan failed, until he made the choice to glance out the window to the playful Prince outside.

“No my King, Perhaps you are not one to question the gods...” the cogs in Akhan’s mind were turning with an almost audible evil squeak as he viewed the heir to the throne, “But perhaps there is another who is.”


Chapter 5: An Unholy Adoption

The room was dark. It shared not the same quiet reverence of the Temple of the Shadow Folk, this room was very different. It was made of a yellow brick, or at least a once-yellow brick that had long been a grim, musty brown. This colour best described the room itself- grim and musty. From the floor below, and from one awkwardly climbing a ladder with a number of its rungs missing, came the angry voice of Koume, the red-jewelled Gerudo witch.

“Vague grasp of elemental magic indeed.” She said, trying to portray a sense of dignity unbecoming of her clumsy transition between the top of the ladder and the top floor of her abode. Her sister, the blue witch, Kotake, followed shortly behind.

“They have a point, sister.”

“Quiet! Kotake!” she said, attempting to light the torches in the room by waving her broomstick manically. “I am trying to get this blasted… torch to…” mid-sentence, her broomstick took on a mind of its own and went hurtling around the room leaving a path of flames behind it which proceeded to light not only the torches, but much of the furniture and several books. Koume looked across accusingly to Kotake “Look what you’ve done now!”

“What have I done?” Kotake asked in disbelief, “You were the one…” she was unable to finish her defence, however, as a terrible noise came from outside their door.

“Go see what that was.” Koume said giving her sister no choice in the matter. Kotake grumbled as she again scaled the rickety old ladder to the floor below. She had not been gone thirty seconds when her panicked voice soared up to the floor above.

“Koume!” Kotake yelled, “You’d better come look at this!” Koume was unimpressed with her sister using such a tone, however more polite than her own was in regards to her sister, and she yelled frantically as she too descended the ladder.

“If this is another of your stupid…” she stopped herself in the middle of her own sentence due to what she now beheld. “Well look who it is.”

Outside their house, in the blistering Desert lay a tall Gerudo woman. She was obviously dead. Her eyeballs were stuck open and were crusted with sand; her mouth was filled with the same. Beneath her lay another figure as if she had used her body to prevent the raging sand-storm from reaching it. The second figure was a male Gerudo, must have been no more than sixteen. His olive skin was bruised and battered from the storm.

“Is that…” Kotake began, “the Leader? And…” she lifted the woman’s corpse to reveal the hidden body beneath “and her son? The King! Well, King to be. The storm must have…” again, she was unable to finish her intended sentence, as by moving the body of the woman it became clear that the boy had not yet suffered the same fate. “No, no, wait… Koume! He is still breathing!” she said, excitedly.

“So what?” said Koume with an honest lack of concern for the boy, “The Gerudo want nothing to do with us, we shall have nothing to do with them. Let him be.”

“But he’s only a boy.” Kotake said, raising some vague semblance of humanity to shine from the depths of her haggish exterior. “Look at him. He’ll catch his death in the wind. He has no mother now, and he’s all alone.”

“You know what, you’re right!” Koume picked up her, now stable, broom and lifted it above her head, “We should put him out of his misery.” The witch had every intention of ending the child’s life there and then. Just as she was about to lower her weapon into his skull, however, the boy looked directly at her, his eyes glowing yellow. He lifted his arm from the sand, and his palm opened. A ball of pure darkness was fired from it; it hurtled past the witch, narrowly missing her head. The sphere of energy, instead, slammed against the wall of their house reducing a good portion of one side to nothing but rubble. With this the boy’s yellow eyes faded to their normal colour, rolled in their sockets and he collapsed, unconscious once more.

“Well that… Now that is interesting.” Koume began to plot the course of action in her head, “You know what Kotake? Perhaps you’re right.” Kotake looked shocked at this realisation, but Koume gave her no time to enjoy this minor victory. “We should look after our little Prince here. Whatever would our tribe do if our leader were to go missing? Bring him in. Now.”

Koume, perhaps pointlessly due to the fact they had little wall left, opened the door to return inside and left Kotake alone with the boy. Kotake cursed under her breath as she heaved the young Gerudo over her diminutive shoulder and wrapped him in her cloak to prevent the storm bringing him to more harm.

Chapter 6: The Military’s Elite

It was the harsh midday sun and the four knights were in the training yard located just past the Market Town on the way to the Castle. Sheik, the purple knight, was balancing precariously on the branch of a tree in meditation. Rinku, the green knight, was sat with one foot against a rock. He had his sword tip resting against his foot while he held the hilt with his right hand, keeping it steady as he began to sharpen the blade with his left.

Darnté and Kael were at the moment in the training ring itself. They were sparring, however, due to the extreme difference in their fighting styles they fulfilled the niches of each others’ strengths and weaknesses perfectly. The Goron, wielding his trusted Hammer, was the epitome of brute strength. He fought as though truly in battle and seemed to care not that he might really hurt his fellow knight. The viciousness of the red knight’s blows, however, seemed of little worry to the Zora. He expertly was able to dart around Darnté’s often predictable attacks and then proceed to lay into the Goron with quick fire punches and kicks in succession.

While the Zora was pummelling Darnté’s back as a result of a very poorly timed swing by the red knight, Darnté almost was able to catch the blue knight off guard with a wide swing that circled his entire body. Kael, however, was still too quick, and remained alert. He ducked and rolled gracefully below the Goron’s swing and proceeded to backflip to a good distance away from his foe. Darnté ceased his swing and turned to face the Zora, only to be met with two boomerang-like fins hurtling towards his face. A look of fear on his face, Darnté was able to dodge the first himself, while used his hammer to knock the second clean away from making contact. It seemed, however, enough to distract him, as Kael took his chance in a leap, fist raised, straight towards Darnté’s head. He had, however, misjudged his opponent, and the Goron abandoned his hammer in favour of reaching out with his left arm and catching Kael mid-jump with his bare hands around his neck.

Kael flailed, frantically, in the Goron’s clutch, Darnté’s pure strength, however, seemed to have got the better of him. Just as he was about to give up hope, however, the dodged boomerang fin hurled itself back through the air to its master, clocking the Goron on the head as it did so. Darnté’s grip was loosened just enough for Kael to be able to lift both arms to his face. Darnté at first looked slightly confused by this movement, but a smirk that went across the blue knight’s face was enough to allow the Goron to realise what was next. Realising all too late to let go, Kael shut his eyes and a pulse of blue electricity was expelled from the Zora’s body and forced its way through Darnté’s arm, causing every one of his white hairs to stand on end.

Darnté jumped backwards a good two feet, leaving Kael to fall to the ground, clutching his chest for the precious air he was now being allowed to breathe. Darnté shook his whole left arm in obvious pain, bellowing. The sight was so comical that Rinku dropped his sword and Kael, though struggling to breathe at all, was able to let out a hearty laugh. Even Sheik, supposedly in a state of pure meditation, briefly lost his balance in the tree. He was able, however, to make this movement appear merely a change in stance, protecting his reputation.

“No magic!” hooted the Goron, still in pain, clutching his charred left hand with his right. Kael was quick to retort.

“If you’re allowed to use a whopping great Hammer, then I’m allowed to go a little ‘electric eel’ on you!”

“That seems fair, big guy.” Rinku gave his input between his own heavy laughter. Darnté cursed under his breath, muttering something about ‘stupid fish’. Their joint laughter continued as Kael noticed a dark, very beautiful Hylian woman head over to them from the path.

“Don’t look now,” he said, gesturing towards the woman, “His missus is coming. Looks like our fight’s over!” The Goron at this remark let out a mighty guffaw, the pain in his hand seemingly passing, and this prompted more laughter from the group. Rinku entreated them, however.

“Guys, cut it out.” Rinku said, as he rushed to his wife who had come to greet him during training.

“Hey handsome.” said the woman in a deliberately twee manner, almost beckoning the other knights to make more fun of Rinku.

“Kera,” Rinku said, addressing her with equal amounts of love and annoyance, “I told you not to come to training, it’s…” he desperately tried to think of a better reason than 'embarassing'. Luckily, Kera cut him off mid-sentence removing the need.

“I was just passing by on the way to the market,” Kera assured her husband. “Is there anything you need?”

“No, I’m fine.” Rinku said, hurriedly, “I’m just going to be training here for a while.”

“Ok” said Kera with an obvious sigh, “you have fun. But don’t be too late home tonight,” she stroked her lover’s cheek with her hand and rubbed his hair between her fingers. “I miss you.” They shared a tender moment before Kera took her man’s advice and left for the market. Wrongly assuming the joking at his expense to be over, Rinku turned back to his colleagues to see Kael leaning melodramatically into Darnté’s arms, staring longingly into each others’ eyes and making ‘kissy kissy’ noises. Rinku laughed to himself before putting on his best firm voice.

“Guys, seriously, back to training.”

“Straight away.” Darnté declared. There was a brief moment’s silence where it appeared the joke was over, when Kael spoke one final word.

“Handsome.”

This was too much, and the red, blue and green knights fell to the floor, clutching their sides- their fits of laughter probably more energetic than any of the day’s training. Even Sheik in his tree showed hints of a smile from beneath his cloth covering. His mirth, however, quickly turned into sadness. He looked again to his friends laughing on the training floor, leapt down from his tree and walked away.

I was barely finished with the first chapter when I got inspired by drawing a more teenage-like sheik. This far the story is really good and so is the language. I started to draw since a nice fan-fic like this would do great with some images.
I haven't drawn many Zelda characters, and certainly not without looking on another reference picture. So I tried, and I even started to add colours in photo shop (takes too long though and I won't do that anymore for sure).



Coloured preview (not finished yet):


Now I'll continue reading.

Woo! Fan art! I was just about thinking of holding a competition once this fanfic gains a little bit of a bigger following to provide illustrations to the various chapters. I'm loving writing this, haven't written anything in ages. It gets a lot more deep and soon it will become clear from where the title of 'Loyalty and Betrayal' comes.

just read the new chapters, good workso far. haha im a fan of the villians myself, and i love Kotake and Koume. So yay=]]

I did just complete the last of the chapters and I must say it's genial!

First I just expected some casual talking between a couple of friends in Hyrule... However, you seem to have included a deeper atmosphere with old magic and greater power. I loved when you introduced the witches, as it really created a pre-ocarina of time feeling. Also, the characters are speaking according to their personality and it really makes everything more realistic and believable as you read.

Sometimes I get the feeling of "too much description", but that is just a personal opinion and doesn't affect the spirit of this fan-fic.

It's hard to tell, a quick guess would be that they are about 20 years old, and therefore it's quite easy (in my age) to connect with the characters. Their life seems so joyful and what wouldn't you give to be a part of that.

I can't wait to read the reast of this epic story. If I know my history, Ganondorf was raised by Koume and Kotake.

The description is all there trying to paint a picture for the reader! If I mention it it's likely important for later on.

It is set pre-OoT, and does fit with the other games in the series and is designed to fill that gap for which there will probably never be an actual game. It serves as a culmination of every Zelda's back story setting the scene especially for AoL, OoT, TP and tWW.

As for the ages of the characters, at this point in the story I see Rinku as perhaps early 20s, Sheik as a little younger, perhaps very late teens, Kael could be a similar age to that whereas Darnté is an older, more accomplished fighter. Zelda is twenty-ish, The Prince is young, only perhaps 15 (they're royalty, arranged for marriage young) and Ganon at this stage is the same. They all grow up through the story, however.

Look forward to what comes next, we see some evil that would make Ganondorf wince!

Let me guess Ahkhan is the figure in the AOL manual?

All shall be revealed my friend! I'm going to write up to the turning point and then post the rest of this first 'act'. Well, it's the first before quite a big time gap. In the stuff coming up there's the origin of the Oocca, the Sheikah and Majora's Mask as well as the first split of the Triforce!

It all gets exciting guys.

Chapter 7: Torn

It was the corridor which led to the room in which the Shadow Folk had held council not a week before. It was similarly bathed in the half-light which crept through the carefully spaced holes in the ceiling. The characteristic dust particles in the air swayed gently, waltzing to the beat of the footsteps which hurried along the passageway. Sheik was walking briskly through the hall, his usual quiet step replaced with one of anxiety and almost dread. Before he had even reached the conference room, the voice of the one he sought came from the shadows behind him.

“You said you had news, Sheik.” The towering figure of Akhan now filled the entire hallway and if it weren’t for the knowledge of the Shadow Folk’s uncanny ability to go unnoticed one might have questioned how such an imposing character was able to remain undetected.

“My lord.” Sheik dropped to one knee in reverence of his master. Unlike Zelda’s reaction to this motion, however, the Wizard appeared to revel in the control he had over the others of his tribe. He stared at Sheik, beckoning with his eyes to be told the news of which his servant had informed him. “Impa,” Sheik continued, attempting to hide the daunting effect Akhan had put upon him. “Impa has sensed the same as we have.”

“The nurse?” replied Akhan, considering this information for a moment before carrying on with his sentence. “I take it from your tone that she is less than sympathetic to our cause.” Sheik explained more of his story.

“She has been speaking with Zelda.”

“The Princess?” Akhan exclaimed, his voice treading the verge between calm and the horrible roar of which he was capable. Sheik was quick to quell his master’s anger.

“But I believe that is as far as the news has travelled.” Sheik said, reassuringly. “Neither Zelda nor Impa consider it their authority to tell the King of this vision, they do not intend to inform him.”

“Because…” began Akhan, anticipating his follower’s ploy, “you have given them your word that you or I will warn our great King.”

“Yes my lord.” Sheik confirmed.

“But you have no intention of fulfilling this promise?” said Akhan knowingly.

“No, my lord.” informed Sheik, once again fulfilling the hopes of his master to the tee. Akhan took to this display of loyalty to heart, and he forced his pale, withered hand firmly onto Sheik’s shoulder.

“I knew you were dependable Sheik.” He said with the first smile he had harboured all conversation. “It is good to see your proximity with the Hylia has not forsworn you of your duty to your own clan.” The Wizard’s mirth was short lived, however. “Impa, on the other hand.”

“My lord,” Sheik was quick to interrupt, still from his position of genuflection, “Impa has done nothing to hinder the cause- she was merely voicing her feelings to a friend- no more will be said from her.” There was a terrible silence, which to Sheik lasted a lifetime, as Akhan considered the words of his most trusted follower.

“You are fortunate, my friend,” came the eventual response “that I agree with your judgement. Impa will go unpunished for the time being.”

“Thank you my lord.” came the reply of a grateful Sheik.

“Though I must remind you” insisted Akhan “that should she again show signs of failing to understand our movements, or otherwise betray us to the Hylians. Well.” The Wizard drew from his cloak an item resembling a purple magnifying glass. It, as with all of the Shadow Tribe’s artefacts, was decorated with three eyelashes which treated the lens itself as the eye. “There have been others who have thought it best to betray us in favour of their duty to the Hylians and ‘the gods’.”

Akhan lifted the lens to the ceiling, where the light which was peering into the corridor was caught by the artefact, and a red hue was projected onto the wall behind Sheik, as if this lens was both magnifying and transforming the natural light into something entirely unnatural. Sheik turned to see the wall on which the light was projected. To his surprise, the wall was nowhere to be seen. Wherever the red light touched, the wall vanished and a chamber was revealed beyond.

In this chamber were a number of horrible sights. There were the bodies of a number of Shadow Folk littering the walls, shackled by their ankles and their blood dripping to pools on the ground. Racks, iron maidens and instruments of torture Sheik had not even seen before were in use on men, women and even children of his Tribe. For every dead body he could count there were ten more living, but starved and beaten, crammed into cages. These imprisoned were gaunt and looked to have lost all hope. Amongst the prisoners of all ages was the council member who had stood up against Akhan in the third chapter. His once round face now gaunt with woe and his eyes were sunken in his face looking as though they were clinging onto his skin for dear life not to fall from his very skull. Sheik stared into this torture chamber with equal amounts of terror and horror.

Akhan lowered the lens, and the illusion of the wall reappeared. He returned the purple artefact to his cloak and once more addressed Sheik.

“Should Impa ever need reminding of where her loyalties lie,” Akhan said with a wry smile, “provisions will be made. I hope,” he continued “that when the moment comes you will not allow your feelings for that girl to interfere with your own loyalties.” Sheik knew not what to say. He felt as though he had swallowed a vile of the darkest poisons, which, he quickly reminded himself, many of his people in that room were likely literally to have done. He shut his eyes in a desperate attempt to blot out that which he had just seen, though knowing he would never be able to remove those images from his mind’s eye. He eventually spoke.

“Will that be all, my lord?”

“There is one more task I would have of you, dear Sheik.” Akhan knew now either out of loyalty or of fear that his servant was now more trustworthy than ever. “As a knight of Hyrule it is your duty to protect the Royal family from harm, is it not?” he did not allow Sheik to answer. “On your next guard duty of the King in his chambers- Should you find yourself strangely absent for an hour after midnight, it perhaps would be acceptable? Do you understand, Sheik?” Sheik, his face already in a fixture of permanent horror, had never been more grateful for the scarf veiling his face. With every sentence Akhan spoke Sheik’s face grew more twisted in fear. He was indebted to the provision that this piece of cloth gave him- the ability to maintain his conduct in front of his master. Nonetheless, Sheik gave an understanding nod. “Our time is coming, Sheik, I think we have waited long enough, don’t you?” Akhan finally gestured for Sheik to stand. This was hard considering the length of time for which he had been kneeling, but he maintained his posture and manner. “Back to your post- knight.”

“Yes…” said Sheik, his words hardly as confident as his step, “Yes, my lord.”

Akhan disappeared in through another false wall, and Sheik hurried out.

Chapter 8: Long Live the King

“When did it happen?” Rinku was running as fast as he could to catch up with Kael, he had long given up hope of reaching Darnté who was rolling very far ahead of the both of them

“We don’t know,” Kael said, running so fast that even he, with such agility, was out of breath. “Sheik just told us to hurry.”

They eventually caught up with the Goron who was waiting by the portcullis. As they stood there, deep in worry, Sheik appeared as if from nowhere, having leapt from a tower window. He hurriedly gave the gatehouse guards the ok to allow his fellow knights into the court.

“Thank the gods you’re here.” Sheik said as he led the group to the King’s chamber where a number of lesser vassals were already communing. “The King, he…”

“Your majesty!” Rinku yelled as he pushed past the servants surrounding his bed. He pushed his long ear to the King’s chest. He slowly lifted his head with a grim look upon his face. Sheik then uttered the phrase that echoed what his action had confirmed.

“He’s dead, Rinku.”

“How?” the green knight implored to his comrade. “When did this happen, Sheik?”

“He must have gone in his sleep last night,” Sheik explained, rehearsed. “While I was on guard.”

“Did anything come in or out of the room?” Darnté asked, tapping the walls around the bed searching for any hidden entrances or exits. As it was, the Goron’s tapping was a good deal harder than most people’s punching, and as such Kael took over the practice to prevent the King’s room meeting the same fate as its occupier. Sheik continued his insistence.

“Nothing came in or out, I was on guard all night.” Sheik then claimed, expertly, “It must have been an entirely natural death.” Kael, who did not trust Sheik’s word at the best of times, was not convinced.

“Rinku,” asked the Zora, “had the King fallen ill recently?”

“Not that I had heard.” Kael then turned the same question to the Goron.

“Darnté?”

“Beats me.” came the ever helpful reply of the red knight.

“Then we can’t write this off yet.” The Zora took charge of the proceedings, Rinku being clearly too affected by the King’s death to be of much use as leader. “Search the premises. If there’s something we will find it.” He turned to the grieving green knight. “Rinku, search the gardens, Darnté- continue to search the room for somewhere someone may have gotten in or out, and try not to break anything.” The Goron innocently replaced a bedpost he had just popped from its wooden socket. “Sheik, you climb the towers, get a bird’s eye view of things.” Sheik was distracted, and did not respond. “Sheik? Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Kael.” replied the purple knight, hastily. Rinku, recovering slightly from the initial shock of the situation, retook control of the investigations.

“I suggest we all meet back here when we’ve searched.” Rinku was very firm in his instruction “We will search until morning or until we find something- no excuses. Move out.”

The knights all headed to their respective tasks, none of them but Sheik noticing the strangeness with which the light was affecting his shadow. As the purple knight left the sight of the other knights, the foreign entity that was hiding so still within his silhouette slid slowly across the courtyard and out of sight. Sheik watched it escape, unnoticed, and then proceeded with his charge.

Chapter 9: Lament

The knights having searched the castle grounds all night and having exhausted all discernable possibilities as to the reason behind that evening’s events retired from their investigations. Sheik returned to Kakariko and opened the door to his simple abode. He should have expected that Impa would want to know all the details of the events overnight; however he still wasn’t quite prepared for the look of utmost disappointment on the face of the one he loved so dearly.

“Where have you been?” Impa asked, knowing well the answer.

“Out.” Sheik replied in a deliberately unhelpful manner more associated with Darnté.

“The people are saying that the King is dead.” Impa spoke, very matter-of-fact. “Is this true?” Sheik closed his blood-red eyes and nodded. He walked past her so as not to make eye contact. “People are saying it was you who were guarding him when he passed.” Again came a nod and deliberate lack of communication. Sheik, the one who was so good at hiding things from those to whom they needed to remain hidden, was suddenly laid bare in front of the one person from whom he could never keep secrets. Impa knew exactly what had happened. “Oh, Sheik…” Impa said in equal amounts of disbelief and disappointment. Sheik was indignant, and in desperation began to rail off his defence- over rehearsed.

“There is nothing at all to suggest that this was anything less than natural, nothing to suggest foul play and no evidence to prove-”

“To prove what Sheik?” Impa interrupted to the result of a speechless Sheik. “Evidence for what?” There was silence. One moment where one could almost hear the dialogue between the candle flame and the shadow it cast, as they flickered their wordless woes that they might never meet.

“Sheik.” Impa spoke under her breath, emotionless. “I think you should leave.”

“Impa.” Sheik made a desperate attempt to maintain his innocence.

“No, Sheik. Just. Just go.”

Impa maintained her appearance, standing arms crossed, as Sheik very quickly left the room, desperate to avoid the accusatory gaze which was embossed on his lover’s face. At his leaving, however, Impa could maintain the façade no longer. She broke down, fell to her knees and bawled terribly. To think the anger of a Shadow Folk is a reprehensible noise, to hear one’s sadness is surely worse. It was such a cry that upon hearing it one might think the world could never be happy again. The noise was coupled with a flow of tears that fell from her eyes to her cheeks, smearing her perfectly painted eyelashes which adorned her face. From there the tears ran down her shoulder and her chest, making it appear as though the eye which she wore shared her grief, and was crying with her.

Sheik, outside, hearing Impa’s sorrow, pulled his scarf back up over his face and leapt into the sky and began to scale the trees and rooftops.

Chapter 10: Conspiracy

The King’s chambers were empty all but for the Prince who, in spite of the insistence of the knights, refused to believe there was no evidence to explain his father’s death. From behind the young Prince came the, perhaps too jovial, voice of the Wizard.

“Congratulations on your new Kingship, my lord.” said Akhan, with a bow.

“Your words fail you on two accounts my friend.” The Prince’s voice was littered with spite and resentment. “I am neither yet King until my coronation nor is my position worthy of congratulation.” He maintained his tone, eager to put the Wizard in his place. “In case the fact had eluded you my father is dead.”

“Yes, it is sad news indeed.” Spoke Akhan, lying. “I understand there is still ongoing investigation as to the nature of your father’s death?”

“The nature of his death does not escape me.” The Prince was certain of his conclusion. “I am of no doubt that my father’s death was as a result of planned assassination- I care not for the method, only that his murderer be found and punished.” The Wizard smiled as his planning came to fruition by the catalyst of revenge.

“Your rage is just; I am sure, my prince.” The Wizard resorted to flattery, as was his speciality, once more. “I am of no doubt that you, being possessed of the entirety of your father’s former power, will have no trouble bringing justice to the land.” He feigned a sense of bewilderment in his voice, “There is just one thing which can’t help but to concern me with regards to your father’s untimely end and the powers now bestowed upon you.” This indication of knowledge or theory as to the King’s death elicited the greatest of reactions from the Prince. He grabbed the Wizard’s shoulders and shook him, temporarily forgetting that considering their relative heights this would have little effect.

“Speak, wizard.” The Prince implored with his whole heart. “If you have any knowledge as to my father’s death, or anyway to ascertain that knowledge I charge you speak.”

“It is the Triforce, my prince.” Akhan began his plan. “The sacred relic has always been the staple of peace in this land and the symbol of your family’s reign. I feel that within it is the answer to our problem- surely the conduit with the gods is the ideal method of bringing justice to the culprit.” The Prince removed his hands from Akhan’s collar and forced them down by his side.

“Your words are true.” Spoke the Prince with his superior knowledge of the Relic. “The Oocca, however, forbid anyone to enter the Sacred Realm bar the true King of the land. And,” he iterated “as I have already made clear, my coronation has not yet been sanctioned by the Oocca.”

“So be it then,” Akhan brushed the air with his hand. “I suppose it must do to wait until…” His face suddenly went from one of acceptance to one of shock. This shock was, of course, entirely a pretence, but it was clever enough to spark the Prince’s attention. “Oh by the gods. I fear some dreadful conspiracy is at hand my liege.”

“Explain yourself, Wizard!” demanded the excited and angry Prince. Akhan continued recounting his ‘theory’.

“As is well known,” his charade was perfect, “the one with the right to the Triforce is the true ruler of this land. In your father’s absence the right to the Triforce should fall onto you. This interregnum, however, as called for by the Oocca, is halting this process and the power is being delayed with them as its controller.” The Prince continued to listen eagerly to this tale of conspiracy and plotting. “It strikes me that perhaps the Oocca, in a desire for the right to the ultimate power, orchestrated the killing of our king.” The Prince could find no fault in Akhan’s logic. Nevertheless, he attempted but once to defend the Oocca to abide by the will of the gods and his late father.

“But the Oocca were appointed by the gods- they wouldn’t possibly…” The Prince was convincing himself of this as much as his advisor.

“Many a pure heart has been polluted by greed and the lust for power, my lord.” Akhan stated, knowingly, “The history of my people should be testament to this.” The Prince’s eyes slowly began to close as Akhan slowly began to step into his shadow.

“You must seek the Triforce, my prince.”

The Prince’s eyes were now closed completely, and he stood frozen to the spot. Akhan spoke his final words of his rhetoric.

“Lead me to it.”

At these words the Prince’s eyes opened suddenly. They were not, however, his eyes. They were glazed over with white, a blank canvas on which Akhan could paint his own character. Akhan was now no more than a shadow in the room, a voice in the Prince’s head; and the Prince was no more than a puppet to the will of the dark Wizard.

Chapter 11: Betrayal

“Seriously…” Darnté said, as much to himself as any other in the room. Impa’s house in Kakariko was fuller than it had been in a long time. Impa herself was joined by the Goron as well as Kael and her usual houseguest of the Princess. Rinku was sat in the corner of the room, his disbelief of the situation manifesting itself in pure silence and stillness. “Do you really think Sheik could have?”

“I don’t know.” Impa cut him off so as to avoid hearing the accusation out loud. “I do know I confronted him and he left without a denial. He has not been seen since.” The room matched Rinku’s silence for a very long minute. Eventually, Kael slammed his fist on the table and, in an uncharacteristic defence of the purple knight, began to speak his thoughts aloud.

“No, he can’t have played a part in this.” He made clear his reasoning, “What would he gain from it?”

“I really do not know” said the Princess; her voice cracking with the emotions of everybody in the room. “It doesn’t seem to make any sense. He was a royal knight of Hyrule, an honour bestowed upon only the most worthy of…” She bit her lower lip and shut her eyes for just a moment before continuing. “How could he want more than this?”

“Poor man wants to be rich,” came the Goron’s ever wise words. “Rich man wants to be King.”

“But in what way will this benefit him?” Zelda railed once more, incredulous, “If discovered any treason it stands that he should lose his knighthood for this, furthermore such acts of regicide demand the gravest of penalties, death if convicted and banishment by mere association with the crime.” At regular intervals in the Princess’ exclamations were moments in which she suddenly remembered who the dead King was father to. At each one of these moments a tear fell from each eye before she continued to maintain her appearance. “What could possibly be worth such risk?” Impa replied with a single word that seemed perhaps the most illogical one of all considering the circumstance.

“Loyalty.” Impa suggested as a force worth murdering one’s king. Kael did not take well to this claim, and screamed his reply.

“Loyalty?” shrieked the Zora, his race knowing much of the concept. “What kind of perverse loyalty has one killing their own king?” The room had no answer for Kael’s question; its force rang in the air for what seemed like an age before Impa began to explain her statement.

“The shadow folk share much with the Hylia.” Impa explained. “We are both races with possession of magic far deeper than that of any other race of Hyrule. Because of this we share a common physical trait” she pointed to the side of her head. “Our highly placed ears represent our ability to hear most truly the will of the gods. It is there, however, that our similarities end. We truly are the shadows of the Hylians. Your race” she gestured towards Zelda and Rinku, “consists of a monarchy in which one King or Queen, with the sanction of Hyrule’s people, has a direct link with the gods through the Triforce.” Darnté let out a guffaw, suited to a Goron, and spoke up.

“The Triforce?” he laughed, “Surely that’s a myth, a fairytale to tell your children to encourage them to be good- that if their hearts are pure all there wishes will come true?” Impa was quick to put him in his place.

“The legend does indeed have its elements of fantasy and make-believe. But the Shadow Folk, and I am sure your Princess, being in so close quarters with the Royal family, know that there is more than an element of Truth to this legend. The Relic is said to be guarded by a race of men closer to the gods than even the Hylians. These people were said to have taken the primordial rubble as left by the goddesses and formed the foundations of Hyrule from the dust. What no-one knows, however, is how to locate the relic. And this is what arouses the fear within me.

“For it is here where the shadow folk and the Hylia truly differ. Whereas the Hylians follow the direct will of the gods as spoken through only one man- your King, my people are without such luxury. Every one of us, no matter how young or old, hears fragments of the desires of the gods and their plans. We have no mighty conduit through which to achieve a complete image, and thus we form a council. Every member of our tribe has a part to play in the shaping of our future, for our combined visions come together as a magnificent puzzle which spells out our destiny.” She spoke proudly for this section of her tribe’s history, “In the ancient times we were noted for our abilities in sorcery and prophesy and we were given special authority by the King of the Hylia. We were appointed as teachers, nursemaids and artificers to the Royal Family. Our gifts were used to encourage the obedience to the will of the gods among the Hylia and to act as advisors to the King for the times when direct contact with the gods was unnecessary, for the Triforce is not a gift to be used lightly. Our gifts exalted us above all other tribes of Hyrule, with the exception of the Hylia themselves. We swore an oath to the then King of Hyrule that we would serve him and his family, guard them and aid them in the peaceful maintenance of Hyrule.”

Her pride and nostalgia turned to sorrow as she continued to recount the Shadow Tribe’s hidden past.

“Over the years, however, we became power hungry. We grew weary of our old magics and longed for something greater. Some of our most powerful mages forged tools and artefacts of magic far too dangerous- trappings that could see into one’s very soul.

“Then one day, in an experiment far darker than any had yet attempted, our ancestors began to play with the very primordial fire of the world the gods had left. They took the building blocks of life itself and with them forged themselves a mighty demon, one that had the power to grant the wishes of them all. Whereas the Triforce was used to grant the wishes of the pure, to stop wars and to bring peace, this demon our ancestors had called from the very centre of the world itself granted wishes of revenge, of bitterness and of hatred. It controlled the mind and thus controlled the bodies of anyone it desired. It grew out of control. It hungered for more than my ancestors could give it, it’s monstrous form, the embodiment of pure wrath, rampaged throughout Hyrule, taking with it entire civilisations. All but a small number of the Shadow Folk were destroyed. Those who remained, our ancestors, chased down the beast. It had taken refuge in the desert where it lay to feed upon the souls it had consumed. Those who dwelled in the desert attempted to destroy it, for it was desecrating their temples and their homes, they were no match, however, and the desert folk suffered the same fate as its creators.

“Eventually the then King of Hyrule and the great Guardians of the Triforce appeared, and with the power of the gods the demon was vanquished. Its form was destroyed. Its spirit, however, being forged from the same raw energy which formed the Golden Power itself, could not be so easily unmade. In place of annihilating the demon’s essence, it was trapped inside a terrible mask by the combined magic of a hundred relics and the Triforce itself. The mask of the great demon was hidden as far from sight as one could imagine so that now I expect even the gods have forgotten its whereabouts.

“Our complete lack of reverence to the gods and the blasphemy with which we disregarded their natural laws in our quest to achieve a comparable power was a crime unforgivable. In spite of this, the King of Hyrule and the gods found it in their hearts to have mercy upon our tribe. We were forbidden ever to live amongst the Hylians, and quite rightly so, we had shown ourselves to be far too dangerous, and thus we lived in isolation. We forsook the dark arts entirely, vowing never to make any attempt to manufacture such instruments of darkness again. It was at this time that the Shadow Folk added to their symbol a single tear, symbolic of the remorse we felt for our betrayal of the Hylians’ trust and of hope that we may some day be welcomed back into their society.

“My ancestors took up home in this village of Kakariko, where we could be far enough from the Hylia as not to forsake our promise to be separated from their culture, and yet close enough so that the most devout of us could continue to serve the Royal Family in spite of our lack of status. We were not of the authority we used to be, but we were still idolised by much of Hyrule, being still renowned for our knowledge of the world and our link with the gods. The feelings of reverence that were once felt for us, however, were now coupled with the feeling of dread from those around us. We became a tribe to fear, rather than a tribe to respect.

“The more god-fearing and devout of our tribe continued to serve the royal family in spite of our lack of status, hoping someday to win ourselves wholly back into the hearts of the Hylia and the gods. My family continued to act as nursemaids to the Royal Family’s children. Several of the most trusted advisors to the King also maintained their posts.” Impa began to remember the point of her story, and this showed by a sadness which now rested on her face. “Sheik’s family, again filled with a sense of the utmost duty, being Knights of the Crown continued to serve as guardians.” Upon the mention of Sheik, she then hurried to her point. “There were still some who felt that the tribe had been betrayed by the Hylia, that our mistake, however terrible, was not worthy of the law to sacrifice all practice of the dark arts which was our tribe’s passion and real skill. They grew bitter and resentful and they continued their shadowmancy in private and with our tribe’s unparalleled ability to keep our secrets hidden, no proof was available ever to convict them of their treason…” she said this statement with a shame that such a practice still existed within her tribe. “But they were always a minority. I had previously thought Sheik to have been of better nature than to join those who harboured such a grudge against Hyrule, those with such a lust for power. But it seems he has indeed fallen into darkness.” Her sentence was filled with grief. “If Sheik has been able to be convinced, there must be now hundreds of our tribe who have fallen to the propaganda of those who now seek revenge.” Her now tear-stricken face contorted into a look of sheer disgust and distress in equal measure. Careful not to elicit more unhappy feelings from the girl, but eager to know more of the intricacies of the Shadow Folk (a knowledge of which few outside the Tribe itself can boast), Kael spoke up once more.

“But why now?” the Zora enquired of the girl, “Why choose to strike the Hylians now- what has changed?”

“It is my fear that the darkness we have all sensed, all of us, has some correlation.” The Shadow girl began to voice her opinion on her vision. “I suspect that my people,” she said ‘my people’ with an extreme distaste. “My people in their continued experimentation with the dark powers have either discovered a power which they believe is capable of destroying the Hylians” her tone then went from one of theorising to one of pure terror, “or something much worse.”

“What is it you fear?” spoke the Zora both appalled and enthralled.

“That they have discovered how to approach the Triforce.” The room knew exactly why this was to be feared, even Darnté who had previously thought of the relic as merely a myth knew the consequences of evil gaining control of such a powerful force. “If this is the case” Impa continued, very slowly. “We can only hope the guardians spoken of in the legends are capable of protecting the Golden Power. Hope and pray.”

Chapter 12: Oocca

It was impossible to determine at which point the architecture of the building changed, but the stone buttresses that lined Hyrule Castle’s many corridors were now replaced by golden rails which seemed to have no bearing on the world around them. If it had not been impossible, one might have forgiven for thinking that these features served no purpose of structural integrity and were entirely decorative; their ends were neither screwed nor nailed to the walls, in stead appearing to hover of their own accord millimetres away from the surface of the stone which, in this forgotten part of Hyrule, also appeared to be plated with gold.

As the Prince walked purposefully along this seldom trod corridor, the dust which billowed beneath his feet caught the light and appeared, too, to be of the most precious metals. The dances the particles shared was one so mesmerising that it made the same feature in the rest of Hyrule seem positively dull. This may have been due to the fact that the light which entered through the high-arched windows also had the appearance of gold. This was an unexplainable phenomenon, as one can not logically assume each photon of light from the sky outside was made of gold; however this is the only way to explain how it seemed. When one looked out of the glass-less windows the sky itself glowed this same unnatural tone, and the sky itself seemed to be the source of light rather than any sun which was notably absent. As such the light that entered the hallway was entirely even, no part of the long room was left unlit.

Despite the abundance of light which surrounded the Prince, somehow he was still able to maintain a shadow which followed in his wake.

The Prince approached a large, again golden, door which concluded the pathway along this most strange a passageway. Upon its opening, automatic at the Prince’s approach, with a great swing a million more specks of gold were launched into the air and the Prince entered the catacomb within.

The room at first appeared to be empty- the walls were lined with golden drapes all reflecting the light onto the altar in the centre of the room which was also empty. The Prince gazed about the room looking for some sign of the Triforce or its legendary guardians. It soon became clear to the Prince, however, that the room was far from empty.

All at once the ‘drapes’ which had decorated this grand room billowed as if blown by a great wind, but no such wind existed. In stead, it became clear that each drape was merely the cloak of one of hundreds of figures who looked like old men, white beards coving the entire bottom half of their face. The beards seemed not to be a sign of age no gender, however, as every member had one despite some being clearly very young, even children. The beards also seemed not to be made of mammalian hair, instead being dense like the down of a young bird. The creatures were perched on a number of branch-like golden structures which jutted out from the walls so that their combined appearance appeared as a roost of a hundred golden owls. Although their cloaks covered any sight of their hands or feet, as they turned one could see the indication that their limbs ended with great talons.

The Prince, in his trance, gave no reaction to this most bizarre of sights; however his shadow gave several movements of extreme discomfort. One by one the creatures dropped from their branches and landed, noiseless to the ground giving the impression of a golden waterfall filling the entire circumference of the room which became a river that flowed to meet the Prince who maintained his motionless vigil while his shadow went wild with excitement and fear.

The tallest of all the golden clad men stepped towards the Prince. He was of the same standard appearance as every other member of this otherworldly council, but his eyebrows, unnaturally long, stood high into the air to either side of his forehead. He stared at the prince, tilting his head on its axis to the left and then the right as if measuring up the one who had just entered their realm. After a minute which seemed an hour, the old man bowed his domed head. All of the others in the room did the same thing in honour of their prince. This first man, who was obviously the leader of this race, addressed the Prince directly. His voice was wise and sagely, but held little in the way of emotion.

“What brings you to these catacombs?”

“I demand to see the Triforce.” The Wizard’s guise was flawless; the Prince spoke as if he was saying these words by no external influence. The leader of the Oocca spoke again in his emotionless manner.

“It is the law of the land that only the one with the right to govern all may approach the Triforce, the King.” Akhan very nearly lost control of his puppet at this sentence, as the Prince’s own rage fuelled what the pair then said.

“The King is Dead.” The Prince bitterly replied. “I am his son and the rightful heir to the throne. As King of Hyrule, crowned or not, I direct you in adherence with the will of the gods to grant me access to the Triforce.”

The Oocca’s leader once more sized up his guest. His head made swift movements to and fro as an owl who is judging if or not a piece of prey is worth his time. The man bowed his head once more, followed by the rest of the creatures. This gave the impression of waves challenging the peace of the golden sea they resembled.

“The heir to the throne of Hyrule commands us to grant him access to the Triforce.” The Oocca in unison all began a mighty chant. With each syllable of their mantra the infinitely high walls which surrounded the inhabitants of the room began to collapse- not to rubble, but to complete lack of existence. The room was exposed to the golden light that was the outside of this most peculiar of realms. Instantly the source of this light became abundantly clear. The Triforce descended from its place in the skies, having been the sun of this world but a hundred times brighter. As it sank to the altar, which was the only remaining piece of architecture following the spells of the Oocca, it appeared to shrink in size, but not in brilliance, in order to fit neatly upon the altar itself.

The Prince took three great steps towards the pedestal, in awe of the great power. Slowly, he lifted his hand from his side, and brought his fingertip close to the light that should have been enough to blind any man. The leader of the Oocca, his head still bowed, suddenly noticed the shadow that lingered behind the Prince on the floor. Realising what this meant far too late, he lifted his head to see the dark, shadowy arm of the Wizard reaching above the Prince’s own. The Oocca let out a great shriek worthy of his owlish nature. At once every one of the figures stared up to see Akhan take hold of the Triforce.

The light went out. It was shadow. The entire realm was engulfed in an unrelenting black. As suddenly as the lights had gone out, they rushed on again- not in a golden light, but in an unnatural fire which poured from the arms of the Wizard and the Prince combined. The Oocca were terrified by this which should never have occurred- one with a dark heart gaining control of the goddesses’ power. One by one they teleported in a flurry of white feathers far away from the source of danger so as to avoid being caught in the wrath of the dark symbiotic entity that was the Wizard, the Prince and the Triforce.

The Prince laughed maniacally with the Wizard’s deep cackle as he watched the Triforce’s supposed guardians flee before his new found might. As his gaze circled the emptying room, he came upon several of the Oocca who remained vigilant. They stood tall, barring his exit from the now reformed chamber. The Prince’s mouth made a wry smile exposing several teeth. His shadow rose behind him to tower above even the imposing figures of the Oocca who remained and his shadow made a similar, toothy grin lined with fangs.

There were seven now who remained to combat the dark Wizard and his puppet, for that seemed to be the Prince’s only role in this exchange, his eyes having been glazed over by magic since he was allowed entry to the chamber. The guardians, in unison, raised their left arms and their long sleeves un-knotted and revealed their hands, confirming the suspicions regarding their appearance. They were golden talons with three long claws. Two were in place of fingers while a third, hooked nail acted as a thumb.

Their mighty claws opened with a creak of sinew that could be heard in the silence of the room. Into each one of their hands materialised a sword which appeared to be made entirely of light. They were clearly of matter, however, as their talons clasped them tight to a mighty clang. This, however, proved to be just for show, as no sooner had they taken hold of the sword they each threw their blade into the air before them where it stuck, poised and aimed towards the Prince and his shadowy accomplice.

It was seven versus two; however the odds were still in favour of the side which held the Sacred Triangles. The Oocca fought valiantly, using their magics to be able to use their claws as weapons in tandem with their swords of light. The guardians soared through the chamber with their magic, however for every attempted attack on the wielder of the Golden Power a sword and shield made of darkness blocked out any effect of the Oocca’s weapons. The Wizard cackled at the futility of those who were attempting to thwart his plans already so far in the process. He eventually grew weary of the ‘battle’ and he forced a grotesque, gigantic appendage straight ahead, catching the leader of the Oocca square in the chest. His sword vanished as quickly as it had appeared as the pillar of shadow pierced him through, pinning him to the wall of the chamber. The other Oocca dropped their swords, which promptly disappeared, and they all turned to watch their friend’s body fall to the floor like a ragdoll. They rushed to his aid, leaving the Wizard and the Prince in another echoing cackle.

The Prince, still under the complete control of Akhan, turned once more to look upon his prize. The three golden triangles sat there, feeding him, the one who had touched it, the sum of its power. It felt like nothing Akhan had ever experienced; such a pure, unbridled power.

Suddenly the bottom two Triangles broke from their positions and hovered, separate, in the air for a moment before going hurtling like shurikens in opposite directions leaving almost cartoonish triangular holes in the walls they smashed through. The Wizard suddenly felt his power dwindle by what must have been two thirds, though he was still clearly the most powerful figure in Hyrule he was not about to leave the realm without the total of his prize which he had earlier experienced. He grabbed one of the grieving old men by the neck and questioned him.

“What happened?” he roared in a voice amplified by the power now dwelling within him. “Explain!”

“It was prophesied” the man began in the same emotionless tone of his master, “that should one touch the Triforce with his heart in perfect balance, he would gain the true force to govern all.” He then looked accusingly into Akhan’s eyes, and his voice took on a manner of spite. “If, however, the one who touched the Force had a dark soul he would only inherit the power in part.” The Wizard cared not for tales of prophecy, only that the power he had worked so hard to achieve was found.

“Where are the other two pieces?” His roar caused the walls to shake. “Speak!”

“In the event of a heart of evil making contact with the Triforce, it is said that the other two pieces will hide themselves within Hyrule so that the gods can attempt to halt an evil soul from gaining the power of the True Force.” Akhan threw his victim to the floor and he landed next to the dying leader.

“Why was I not told of this earlier?” Akhan’s sentences now were indistinguishable from the noises of a thunderstorm. “Who was it that prophesied this?” The Oocca who was previously interrogated replied, having understood perfectly in spite of the deafening noise which had accompanied Akhan’s words.

“A Shadow Girl by the name of Impa.” the Oocca explained. “As visions of darkness clouded her mind she informed Princess Zelda of this forgotten legend.”

Impa!” screamed the Wizard with such might that even the Oocca could not understand what he had exclaimed so viciously. “That girl has chosen the wrong side for the last time.” He lowered his tone and smiled once more his terrible smile. “You were noble to stay and fight, old men.” He addressed them directly. “But I fear you made a grave error not following your friends. I feel they had the right idea fleeing while they had the chance. This…” he looked down at the torrents of purple flame which leapt from his palms. “This power rushing through me- it is greater than any magic in Hyrule,” he was, however, reminded of how weak even this felt compared to what he had felt not ten minutes before. “But even this is incomplete. None shall stand in my way. The time of shadow is nigh. The True Force will be mine if I have to raze the whole of Hyrule to the ground.” Akhan spoke his thoughts aloud before turning to the Oocca who remained by their injured colleague. “Thank you, sages, for your assistance.” He then added with a sarcastic grin “May the gods have mercy on you.” The Prince and Akhan teleported out of the realm to their home leaving the six unharmed old men to tend to their brother who was by no means able to survive such a wound.

“Master Gaebora,” the Oocca who spoke with the Wizard directly begged his all but dead chieftain, “what should we do?”

“Pray, my dear Rauru.” came the final, kindly words of the old sage. “I think it best… that we pray.”

With these words Kaepora Gaebora breathed his last, and his protégés took his final advice. They bowed their heads in unison once more and prayed this prayer.

“Oh golden goddesses who created Hyrule- hear the plea of your servants. If your mercy stems to forgive us for our impiety this day, I beg you that you favour us. In the time of darkness I pray that your sacred triangle be made balanced. May your Wisdom be sent to they who most desire your wisdom, so that they will have the skills required to maintain those still true to you and lead them in the time of darkness. May your Courage be with they who are most worthy of your courage so that they might defend your world from evil hands with all of their valour and raise the spirits of those true to your words. Prevent the evil from gaining your power, and so prevent the evil from gaining control of us.”

Chapter 13: War and Reconciliation

The terrible voice of the possessed Prince spread across Hyrule. The Wizard’s magic amplified the voice to levels beyond anything in nature. None in Hyrule escaped hearing the Prince’s mighty decree.

“Noble citizens of Hyrule. Listen to the first proclamation of your new King. The Royal Family is in peril. Dark forces have control of the Great Relic- the Triforce. Its pieces have been hidden somewhere in the land of Hyrule. They are real and they are able to be possessed. If those responsible for the old King's death are to be brought to justice, the relic must be restored. I charge you, my kingdom, those who return to my family the artefacts of which I speak will be granted power, status and riches beyond their wildest dreams. Leave no house unsearched, no stone unturned and no person unquestioned until the pieces of the Triforce are found. You have your decree. Now go, and may the gods be with you on your search.”

“That does not sound like my brother…” noted a puzzled Princess from her best friend’s Kakariko abode.

“No! No! No! No!” yelled an obviously terrified Impa. “This is the situation the guardians of the royal family have fought to avoid! As legend- knowledge of the Triforce is a tool for morale, a fable to the good of the land; but provide the people with its reality and it becomes a prize- something worth killing and dying for.”

“The King has provided the foundation for war.” Kael solemnly declared. The room was silent in the thought of this, as even from their remote location they could already hear citizens from the whole of Hyrule forming a rabble outside the castle gates ready to pledge their allegiance to their ‘King’ for such promise of wealth and power. The noise of her beloved Hyrule slipping into despair led Zelda to stand and announce to the room in a voice she saved for just such occasions. For the first time she seemed glad of the fact she was the Princess.

“Some dark force clearly has control of my brother.” Zelda surmised from his behaviours of late and from Impa’s story telling. “Noble knights of my Father’s decree- I hereby challenge my brothers’ reign of Hyrule.”

“I second this movement.” came an all too formal sounding Impa. She adjusted her tone to a more sensible one and continued. “I fear that shadow has gained control of the Prince, and while this is the case we shall not bow to him.” She turned to the others in the room. “Knights- what say you?” Darnté stepped forward without a moment’s hesitation.

“My Princess, the hammer and fire of the Red Knight of the mountains is yours to command.” He knelt at Zelda’s feet.

“I will follow the truth, my lady.” assured the Zora. “The Blue Knight of the rivers is at your service alone.”

They all looked to Rinku who had not said a word since they had taken residence in the village. He looked up with a grim expression on his face.

“I pledged my allegiance long ago to the King of Hyrule.” The room awaited his next sentence. “The King is dead.” Rinku then fell to his knees. “Long live the Queen. The sword of the Master Knight is at the ready by your side, your majesty.” Zelda, again, beckoned all those who were now kneeling to their feet.

“While we still have the opportunity- knights,” she made her own decree to counter her brother’s. “-Head to your respective domains. Seek those who are there who remain virtuous to the will of the gods, those to whom the Prince’s promise of power means little.” She gestured to each knight in turn. “Gorons, Zoras and Hylians- those which are still true. These will be our armies against the darkness.” As the knights began to gather their effects there came another familiar voice which sounded over the commotion.

“There is one more army that is yours to command, my Queen.”

Sheik had entered Impa’s house and following him were, at the very least, a hundred eager, red eyed people. Amongst them were women, children, and a good number of men who, despite obvious malnourishment, would easily recover to fighting standard given not too much time. Not all this newly enlisted army could fit into Impa’s small cottage, but those which were able knelt beside Sheik in front of their Queen. At Sheik’s right hand was the man who had spoken against Akhan in the council- though still gaunt and bruised, he looked significantly better than he had when trapped within the false walls of Akhan’s prisons. Sheik spoke once more from his genuflecting position.

“The Purple Knight of the Shadow Folk pledges his allegiance once more to the Royal Family of Hyrule.” Rinku, Kael, Impa and Darnté had plastered across their faces the biggest smiles in true mirth and disbelief. Zelda, however, remained stern and spoke with poison.

“The Shadow Folk are a force lead by darkness and deceit.” She stared Sheik in the eyes and watched as he broke her gaze and bowed his head in shame. “The Shadow Folk have no place in this army of light.” Zelda then changed her tone entirely to one of delight. Sheik looked up to see Zelda kneeling before him, her hand outstretched to take his own. “Hyrule, instead” Zelda said through a smile, “welcomes the allegiance of the noble Sheikah- the followers of Sheik. Rise, noble Sheik, and prepare your men for battle.” Sheik’s face went from regret to elation as his army cheered for the allegiance of their saviour and their Queen.

“Knights.” Zelda addressed the entire room. “Hyrule is at war.”

This is getting even more exciting. I have some more to read first though. I hope Shiek is good hearted deep inside. I'll continue tomorrow.

Intermission- Chapter 13.5- Reunions

“The Sheikah… Where did you?” Impa was alone with her returned friend and frequent houseguest. Although Zelda had made her forgiveness of Sheik clear, he still was finding it hard to look his old friends in the eyes considering his part in the events now unfolding. Eventually he plucked up the courage to explain himself to Impa.

“They were the Shadow Folk that spoke up against Akhan when he declared his plans to achieve the Golden Power.” Sheik’s voice was quiet and very unlike his usual haunting tone. It was almost as if his new tribe name of ‘Sheikah’ had removed some of the less pleasant characteristics of the Shadow Folk.

“Akhan?” questioned Impa, confused, this being the first time she had heard this name with regards to the happenings. “The King’s advisor? But I thought he was of the virtuous...”

“He deceived us all, even the King to the end.” Sheik explained the tale of betrayal. “He is the most powerful wizard of us all. He saw deeper into the vision of oncoming darkness than any of us were able. He was able to shield his plans from sight using his magic. He created devices, objects to hide the truth from anyone but himself. He performed dark magic and human experiments of torture right here in Kakariko without anyone’s knowledge.” Impa was finding this a great shock; she lived so close to the residency of the Wizard. “His close links with the King made it easy for him to gain what knowledge he needed to regarding the Hylians’ magic.”

“And the Sheikah…” asked Impa once more, “how did you find them?”

“He had prisons and torture chambers built in our temple and he kept many of them in an underground lair beneath his house. They were being held and tortured.” For a moment Sheik remembered the horrors shown to him that day by Akhan. “He showed me once. It was seeing how he was treating our own people that…” He was finally able to look his friend straight in the eyes with little shame. “That made me realise who it was who was really being loyal to their ancient oaths, and where, therefore, my loyalty to my own people should lie.” The look on Impa’s face was similar to that of Zelda upon Sheik’s appearance that afternoon.

“It saddens me that it took so long for you to realise who your friends truly are.” In another Zelda-like moment the nurse’s tone changed entirely to one of elation. She put her arms around Sheik and hugged him tight. “But it raises my spirits to know that you finally have.” Impa loosened her hug and stared into Sheik’s eyes. Their eyes were as two pairs of twin rubies reflecting in the light. Their light was put out, however, upon Impa’s closing of her crimson jewels as she tore down the scarf covering Sheik’s face and pushed her lips against his in one swift movement. Taken aback, Sheik showed a great deal of alarm for a split-second before what was happening hit him. He closed his eyes and returned the affection; he had never felt so real as he felt just then.

It was only mere moments into this reunion when the door to the room burst open. The lovers pulled apart quickly and Sheik hurriedly returned his cloth to his face. Sheik turned to see an old friend looking embarrassed and pleased in equal measure for having witnessed, but stopped short, this display of emotion.

“The knights have all returned with their armies.” Rinku said, attempting to make his expression more suitable to one of a leader in war-time. “It is time to begin preparations, Sheik.”

“Yes, commander.” replied the purple knight, not having to hide his beaming smile thanks to his trademarked scarf. He knew, however, that Rinku knew just how big the smile was.

“It is good to have you back.” Rinku held out an arm to shake Sheik’s hand. Upon returning the gesture, however, Sheik found himself pulled into a hug once more, albeit a more manly one. Rinku left the room leaving the door open. Sheik turned to Impa again to see her face in as wonderful a smile as he knew his was beneath his guise. He bowed to his lady and left the room, closing the door behind him. Impa fell backwards onto her bed and sighed the happiest sigh she had sighed in a very long time.

Sheik began to make his way across the village to the barracks that were being fashioned near the gates. Before he arrived there, however, he was greeted by a feeling significantly less pleasant than the greeting he had just received from Impa. Having fallen to the floor, Sheik turned to see Kael the Zora caressing his knuckles which had just made firm contact with the Sheikah’s jaw.

“I guess” spat Sheik, adjusting his jaw line, “I deserved that.”

“Damn right you did.” Kael confirmed. He then gave his hand to Sheik to aid his otherwise awkward clamber to standing position whilst cradling his chin. “Now let’s put this behind us. We have training to do.”

They began to walk together towards the makeshift barracks, but within seconds there came a rumbling like a small earthquake, and they turned in horror to see a boulder-like Darnté rolling towards them at a great speed. Before they could turn to run Darnté leapt majestically from his spherical form and with a mighty and friendly laugh heaved the two knights from standing onto his shoulders. Sheik and Kael fought back futilely before joining in laughing with the Goron and allowing him to escort them the remainder of the way to their posts.

just read the whole thing.
so far, its good.
really dont have any sugestions=]]