Chapter Text
Whispered prayers weeped in the air like willows; the words in an abandoned ancient tongue ebb like fog over the edge of a garden wall. The chill of the spring air wasn’t the only thing to blame for the goose flesh appearing on the brunette’s skin. Incense burned with intensity — heavy on the lungs while it singed the senses. Fickle sun was the only source that brought a perception of warmth into the dank temple, its light shining through stained glass murals. The princess’ joints began to ache and tremble, sweat gleaming on her forehead as she'd forced herself to resew her worn tuffet; she ought to improve on her technique and skills to ensure they would last her longer than a mere few weeks. Her prayers to the goddesses and sages determined the outcome of her kingdoms’ prosperity — after all, being born with The Mark meant that Zelda had to congeal her connection to the holy ones in the Sacred Realm. She never dared question why her incessant prayers went unanswered; as confusing as it was, her devotion was unwavering — her heart loyal to the one true goddess. Zelda rose early each morn to commit a full hour of undisturbed prayer and offering, no matter the conditions. These rituals became primary nature to her being; not a thought left to her mind, other than obtaining her higher purpose. This particular morning, Zelda felt a sway in her concentration, perhaps a cold sweat coming over her. She let her thoughts loose like a weasel escaping a snare — wondering if she was missing something, a key element to amalgamate her bond with the high goddess. Had her prayers fallen short — would this juvenile illness be her punishment? She dare not challenge the foreboding supernatural powers of the realm, that which her nanny Impa reminds her daily of their malice. The princess had only, as a child, been plagued with visions of the powerful nature the unattainable magic possessed, terrible eldritch beings that swarmed the old world, before the goddess wiped them from the earth. At times it felt like Zelda fought alongside Her for millennia — even if these memories weren't her own they carried the weight of burdensome memories one could only beg to forget.
"Are you nearly finished, your highness?"
Zelda pulled the veil around herself tighter, in an attempt to prevent the chill penetrating her garment, which Impa stirred up by entering the temple. The princess tried not to rush her closing prayer before responding to her nanny,
"Yes, Impa.."
She extinguished any live flame with her breath, quick to gather the artifacts that aided her in prayer,
"Has the goddess given you any inkling of her presence? Have the sages spoken to you?"
Zelda stifled her exhale of defeat, any other change in pitch would've caused suspicion to arise out of the ancient woman — The princess had very little spirit to receive lecture and criticism,
"The sage of spirit has been trying to come through to me once again, yet as many times before; their voice cannot reach me,"
"And the goddess?"
"Nothing.."
The clicking of the old woman's tongue caused Zelda to cower. She tucked her pillow underneath her arm, wandering towards the double doors — head bowed in defeat, not even bothering to gaze Impa in the eye — already knowing the look that awaited her in crimson irises,
"Princess,"
Impa interjected, catching up to Zelda's side; interlocking their arms, she rested her leathery hand on top of the brunette’s,
"Let us walk; I have something I must inquire about,"
The princess hoped whatever backhanded life lesson Impa was to teach, wouldn't be long; her stomach groaned and stirred, the ache of fasting strained against her corset,
"Have you had any new dreams as of late you would like to discuss?"
Zelda thought, wading through her mind to retrieve what she'd already forgotten that morning.
"Perhaps there is one.."
Impa gestured toward a bench amongst the garden of ivory roses, the condensation of the stone dampening Zelda's dress. Knees nearly gave way as she lowered herself down,
"Initially, I could only recall glimpses at first; I remember being kneeled down in front of a stone monolith; it seemed to just open up and stretch into eternity, I felt like it wanted to devour me.."
The princess' concentration wavered as she retold her recollections, grounding herself in stroking one of her braids,
"Go on.."
Impa urged her, nearly on the edge of her seat,
"In the west I saw a beast rise up, a terrible beast and yet I hadn't felt afraid, it's as if I knew him. Oh, and those eyes — so much sadness in those eyes.."
Zelda was quick to wipe away any stray tears, the immense pity she felt for the beast was still fresh.
"Him?"
Impa questioned, although it came off more accusing — face blank like a slab of stone,
"Yes, I don't know why, but I feel like he once was a man–"
The older woman held up her hand, Zelda instantly clamped her mouth shut; knowing she already had said too much,
"I've heard all that I needed to know. This dream has dark energy, do not tread too far into your thoughts with this one lest you stray further-"
"Forgive me, Impa, but if you would just listen; it was different this time I assure you-"
The nanny smacked the back of her hand into her palm, Zelda let her reactionary flinch loose, she bit her tongue to keep herself from causing a dispute,
"I have very little patience for this lack of abidance you've been exhibiting as of late. If I had it my way I'd make you a vestal, less chances of distraction from this frivolous life of yours,"
The only difference between Zelda's current life and a vestal's is that she had her own private quarters and her meals were not of bread and gruel. Other than that she awakened with the sun, sometimes before, to dedicate herself to prayer — and yet all her efforts have ultimately been fruitless.
Her attention dissolved from Impa's lecture, a gravity pulled herself back within her psyche, the dull weight of an inattentive ear was an alleviation. Slipping back into a rerun, she let the rest of the dream play out once again inside her head;
➺➺➺
The sky had darkened, promising a storm rather than nightfall. Through ferns and billowing vapor, it moved swiftly in an updraft — like she had stepped through a cloud; she wandered into desolate wasteland. With the environmental change, came a ghastly frequency — hissing, screeching, she likened it to a tea kettle. An orange haze had settled into the atmosphere, a forest fire that lacked smoldering leaves and embers. Snow blown in from the north, this land that it once was would cease to exist — and all of its remnants of the past would soon be overtaken by wintertide. Gale whipped through her garments, clinging on tightly to her shawl as a last ditch effort for warmth. In the scarce rays of a bloodied moon, she was guided by a dribbling trail of black — the flow of it unfortunately didn't get any lighter. Zelda's breath staggered in her lungs, gripping onto her wrist to stifle the rapid onset of pain, nausea lingered in the back of her throat. The Mark blistered and bubbled on the back of her hand; an invisible beacon cut through the smog. In the distance, a light, flickering like a dying flame — illuminated a monstrous shape. What laid waiting, breathed shallow and labored; a cross between boar and an untamed canine, the hackles of the colossal beast rose as it sensed a presence nearing,
"What have they done to you?"
The princess cried, removing her veil to dampen the blood that obstructed the animal's sight,
"I didn't want you to see me like this.."
The mouth of the beast moved, yet it's words resonated more clearly from within her mind,
"Hah, I think I went a little too far this time. Oh well, I'm damned to hell, nonetheless. "
Zelda kept him still from attempting to regain footing, feeling great sorrow she stroked his mane; pricking herself on quilled strands,
"You're dying.."
"Nothing more than merciful sleep."
A croup expelled clotted blood from the beast's lungs, it writhed in the sand like a hoard of leeches. Frightened, Zelda leapt backwards, the substance nearly saturating her boots,
"Are you a đæmon?"
She'd only ever heard and read in books that the blood of corrupted souls was deemed to be parasitic and exhibited a life of its very own. But never survived very long outside the host — it would shortly burn up into wisps of sulfur,
"Đæmon, a vengeful god, defiled by the dark arts. I'm all the same to those who merely perceive me."
"Who are you, have I met you before?"
The beast snorted harshly through its snout, Zelda assumed it was an attempt at a chuckle,
"Perhaps in one lifetime or another, but I lack substantial proof of that."
With the last of his strength, he managed on all fours, limping towards the blooming horizon,
"Is that the sun? It looks so strange.."
Zelda asked, walking abreast with the beast.
"Or the wrath of a goddess, perhaps."
He plopped down, baring his weight against a stone monument,
"I don't know why I'm even here.."
The young woman murmured, observing the light rising in the east; bright white, a bursting solar flare. She accepted whatever fate he awaited as if it too were her own,
"Do you have a name?”
"Unwanted from the moment of my birth, a nefarious talisman that ensured an inescapable fate for my nation. Raised by beasts alike, I was not bestowed a name by an utterance of a human's lips."
"So, you weren't always like this."
"Not always.."
They both studied the ripping sphere of light, which quickly turned from cosmic to atomic,
"You best continue on your way now, Princess.."
"And what of you?"
"I'm already dead, remember? "
"Well, no one should die alone.."
She stated, huddling close to the source of diminishing warmth.
Burnished rays pierced through the angelic body, sending an imploding shockwave that sucked the air from her lungs, in seconds the sand turned to glass; the clothes on her body disintegrated. She couldn't look away, her eyes detonated in their sockets, charring the viscera in moments. The scream that ruptured from her throat split through her head like a chisel striking marble—
"Am I clear now, Zelda?"
"Yes, Hylia.."
➺➺➺
"What did you say princess? I couldn't hear you, you mustn’t mutter."
Impa's voiced startled the brunette back into the present, she felt a surge of embarrassment, wondering if the old woman heard her,
"I said yes, Impa."
She reassured, giving her a fleeting smile. The Sheikah woman nodded, patting the princess' knee; Impa informed her of several occurrences that would be happening later that day before departing, and leaving Zelda alone in the rose garden. Isolated once again with her thoughts. She hadn't realized how vigorously her heart had been beating, the dreams had begun to become more, and more, vivid with each passing night — even just reflecting back on them seemed dangerous. The princess always dreaded the next one. Attempting to discover a deeper meaning to her dream, she drew the veil back over her head, bowing it in prayer — in doing so, she stroked the tender flesh on the back of her hand.