The Legend of Zelda: Memories - Chapter 17

A/N: Yes, I know, you hate me. Here, have chapter 17. I'm not sure if you'll hate me less by the end of it, but at least you'll hate me for something else.

Chapter 17:

The sky has turned to a dangerous shade of black and the trees shake and creak, but I do not notice. I am only holding her body, my own shaken by violent sobs, forehead touching hers. All I can hear is silence, a silence that reminds me so painfully of the one I had heard all those years ago on that cliff.

It's the same. It's the same all over again. I see it all again, his death, my mourning followed by an insatiable desire of revenge. And there it's all happening again. And I cannot help but to realize how terribly I've failed in everything, and that I was not capable to move on. Why must everything repeat itself over and over again? How could I not see this was going to happen? How could I let this happen -

He knew it. My darker self, the shadow I fought in trial.
Wise choice, brother, but just a tad too late.
It hadn't been about death, no, because he knew I would live. It was all about Rochnan. He knew he was already there, that we had wasted too much time.
The Zora Queen knew it too. Treasure the moments you share with her, but beware, because something will come when you'll least expect it. Of course. I had been careless, blinded by my emotions.
Even Zelda had know it, in some unconscious way. The way she smiled, knowing she had sacrificed herself for me…

More uncontrollable tears swell down my cheeks and I slam my fist down out of anger on the cold ground. It should have never been this way. She should have been the one who lived, no I. But she's gone, gone…

« You should stop shouting, kid. It scared all the birds. »
I start, surprised by the voice. I raise my head in a jerk and, my sight blinded by the tears, make out a man, standing in the rain a few meters away.
« I… I… », I stammer, suddenly terrified. Could he be one of Rochnan's soldiers?
« Well don't look so stupid boy. I'm not going to eat you. »
« You… You… », I say, unable to utter a sensible sentence. A flicker of hope crosses my mind, and the wildest of ideas starts germinate in my brain. Maybe… there's still time…
« Do you know magic? », I ask, my broken voice sounding very pressing.
« Magic? Do you know many persons who still know what magic is, boy - »
« Herbs then? », I cut in, desperate. He frowns as I approach him, staggering at every step, Zelda's still body weighing down my arms.
« Yes, a bit », he answers grumpily. « But - »
« Then try to save her! », I cry out, the despair clearly being heard in my hoarse voice.

He backs away and frowns even more. « That's a dead woman you're holding here, kid. Can't do anything about it. »
I approach even more, begging. « She isn't a normal person… her body is stronger than others… Please! »
He starts to shake his head, his gaze hard. « I'm sorry, but- »
« I beg of you! Try anything! I'm done for if she's gone. » That's when I realize I've begun crying again.
He turns away. « I'm no doctor, boy. Sorry. »
« Please… » I whisper. But he does not turn back.
I drop my head, hopeless. Then trying one last time, I shout: « Old man! I know you can save her… If you leave us here, I'll die too with her. »

He stiffens as I call him. Turning suddenly, an unreadable expression in his eyes, he stares at me for a few seconds. « Come », he says at last. He starts running in the darkness of the woods, not even giving the dead corpses around us a glance. I follow him with difficulty, staggering at every step, branches whipping into my face. We soon arrive at a tiny wooden house, built in the middle of a small clearing. Smoke is escaping the stone chimney and the raindrops fall with violence on the tiles, creating a terrible racket.
He pushes the door wide open, hurries to the bottom of the hut, takes Zelda from my arms and lays her down on a bed. Then searching frantically amongst the bottles and pots on the shelves, he rudely gestures me to leave.

It has almost stopped raining when I step out, the shower having been one of those typical August storms that ravage Hyrule in that time of the year: short and devastating. Sheltering myself, I sit underneath the tall trees that surround the clearing, a small natural river running a few meters away from me. I shiver, my clothes soaked through, and wrap my arms against my knees, trying to keep the cold away. The tears have dried on my cheeks and I sit here expressionlessly. Waiting. Waiting.

A crystal chime brings me back to my senses. Fi is sitting next to me, as if she always had been. Silence fills in the place for a very long time, but the need to talk becomes too urgent. The need to forget it all, the need to think about something else.
« Thanks for what you did back then against Rochnan », I say at last.
No answer. « … Was it painful? », I ask, only vaguely trying to make conversation.
« No. A bit… like falling asleep. »
More silence. « I wish you had been there with me for… for… all that happened… after. »
« I wish too. » She hesitantly takes my hand and squeezes it with affection. I do not react, stiff from sadness.
« Fi… I have a question… », I say at last, trying desperately to think of something else.
« Uhm? »
« Will you remembers us? … Will you remember every single one of us? »
Another silence follows. « You know, I've been created for remembering. For storing data, that's how Hylia said it. All that happened after the Great War against Demise I remember it as I had witnessed it yesterday. I do not know for how long the cycles will last, but you can be sure I'll remember each and everyone of you until my last breath. »
« Thank you… », I breathe out, my voice barely above the sound of a whisper.
« It's the least I can do. »
More minutes pass by in silence, the last remaining raindrops rattling against the tiles.

« Hey, boy! », the old man shouts behind me, the door creaking as he emerges from the hut. « You - Who the hell's that? »
I turn to him. « A friend. »
« She wasn't there when you came here. Don't take me for a fool, you'd regret it. »
« She can be trusted, I assure you. She's a … spirit, that's why you couldn't see her. »
He raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to retort, but changes his mind. « Fine. I don't want to have a part in your mysteries, boy. First the other girl and then this one - »
« What about her? Could you cure her? The other girl? »
« I've done everything I could. »
My eyes widen in horror. « What do you- she's dead? », I ask, fearing the worst, my heart beating at a frantic rate.
« Not yet. But she's about to be. If she makes it till tomorrow morning, she'll live. »

He then turns around and leaves us slowly, apparently limping, his left leg falling behind the other.
« I knew you were a doctor. »
He looks at me sharply and says: « I'm anything but a doctor, kid. You'd do well to remember it. » He then disappears behind the trees, leaving us alone, and I suddenly begin to wonder how come strong he seemed when I first saw him compared to now. And now that I think of it, that house wasn't there when we first visited the Lost Grove…

« Don't look so down, Link. All is not lost, » Fi says softly, interrupting my thoughts. I shake my head, hopeless. « She'll never make it till sunrise. The wound is too deep. »
She makes a face. « No she won't. »
I frown, surprised by her pessimism.
« At least not alone », she adds, eyeing me closely. I look at her for a long moment, finally understanding what she means.
« Then… I'll fight for her, even if it means only staying by her side. » Shaking my head, I finally realize what it all means. « You know, Fi, I can't stand it anymore. Waiting for everything to happen. I guess… it's time I finally decide what I am going to do. »
A small knowing smile lits up the spirit's face. « You've grown. »
I give up and give her a hand. « Come. Let's go and see how she's doing. »
« I think I am going to stay here, Link. I have my own thoughts to take care of. »
I frown, not fully grasping the meaning of her words, but seeing she won't say more I nod and slip through the hut's door.

Zelda is in the back room, laid on the bed, her skin as pale as a dead's man. Blood has stained her entire tunic and bandages, and I'm even surprised she still breathes. But as I touch her chest, I sense her heart beating weakly. I take a stool and drag it towards the bed. Sitting on its hard edge, I take her cold hand.
« You probably can't hear me, but I guess I'll still talk out loud like a madman. The old guy said that if you'll make it till tomorrow morning, then you'll live. Just a night. A few hours. Hold on tight. I'm here. »

But her eyes remain deadly still. « You know, Zel… Te okkedian tia. »
Except here no one is there to answer, and I am left all alone with the emptiness.

An hour passes by and the sky has completely darkened outside. I've lit some torches and they cast odd dancing shadows on the walls, flickering dangerously each time wind enters through the open door. A wolf howls in the distance.
An old melody comes back to my mind. It talked about legends and heroes and kingdoms, but I remember only the first verse. None of what followed those four lines resemble what I am though. Heroes don't exist. Only broken men are there to do the dirty job.
But those lines still find their way to my lips and the melody fills in the small room, my deep voice echoing slightly against the walls.

Fear not this night
You shall not go astray
Though shadows fall
Still the stars find their way

« … It's an old song my dad used to sing to me as a toddler… I used to be afraid of the dark. How ironic when you know that later I only worked as a thief during the night. I didn't want anyone to recognize my face, to see through me, to know who I really was… »
« He would have loved to know you. I'm sure he would have really liked you… He was such a kind and gentle person, but fierce and bold when he wanted. Just like you… »
« …I'm sure, from where he is, that he watches us, » I add sadly. « All the time. »

I was never gone, Link.

More hours have gone by, and it must be around two in the morning now. Fi hasn't come back, and I wished more than ever she was here. The silence is unbearable. Talking is no good apparently. I've already stopped some time ago. There must be some way to talk to her, to connect with her, to make her now that I am here…
But in fact, there is one. Taking my decision, I gather all my energy and visualize the first vision that comes to my mind, and as our skins touch hers becomes smouldering hot.

A Brief Interlude:

Zelda was not dreaming, no. And she knew it. She couldn't be. The dead do not dream.
And if she was dreaming, why was it always through his point of view? It was always from his eyes that she saw the world unfold, his emotions she felt, his body she could almost sense.
It was not a dream. It was visions. His visions.

It all started by some blurry scene, where she could only see the bloodied pavements of a street of Castle Town. Then she heard her own voice, seeming to come from far away. « Don't be such an idiot, Link. »
It had been the first time they met.
Then she saw the time when she revealed him who he really was and his destiny. She felt all his rage and anger… Back then, he seemed so lost, but it was only now that she was inside his mind that she truly understood how he felt.
« I 'll help you. But after I defeat him, since you can't apparently do that on your own, will you leave me alone and I'll never have to see you again? », he had said.
At that moment she heard something… It seemed to come from the other side of the world. It said… it said… that he was taking it all back. That he never wanted to leave her again.
And then the voice was gone and the visions carried on.
Finding the Master Sword, Rochnan, the first trial. Death Mountain's descent. That was the first time she had seen him truly happy. When he witnessed her dream. His oath afterwards. Mirage and the board on the sand. Then the quicksand.

There she felt something change. An emotion stronger than all the others, overwhelming everything. Some new scenes started to appear, scenes she had never witnessed and in which she could never be seen. But those scenes were always about her. The dialogue with Fi about what he felt about her, the whole runaway scene in Nolania, and the entire dialogue with Danael. It suddenly struck her how much he cared about her and how difficult it had been for him to admit it.
And then it all started going in a blur. The visions of the past few days went so fast, she could hardly distinct one from another. The cave. Her anger about the prophecy. The third trial… Rochnan. So much emotion she could scarcely bear it any longer. Her head seemed about to explode. And then… nothing. The visions turned to crimson red as she was dying in his arms, and there everything turned to black and white. She saw herself, pale as a dead man, lying on that bed… There was no sadness, no anger, nothing. He was empty. Empty like the first day she had met him.

And then she heard something again… It appeared to come from much closer.
« Don't leave me, Zelda. I can't go on without you. »

I know, she thought. That's why she was holding on, despite how much the pain was unbearable. Soon it took over all of her thoughts and the visions ceased. Everything mixed and she could not distinguish anything anymore. Except the devouring, excruciating pain.
Yet she was still fighting. Until her last breath she knew she would fight. Because dying was an easy task. You just had to let go. Living was hard. And he needed her to do it.

Chapter 17 (cont.):

It's something like four in the morning. I'm not even sure anymore. Exhaustion weighs down my eyelids and I force myself to stay awake despite the terrible headache it causes. I refuse to succumb to sleep as long as she isn't safe. The sun should rise in two hours. Normally.
Fi still hasn't come back. Zelda has gotten paler and paler and her heartbeat is desperately slow. Pessimism has begun taking over my mind. She'll never make it till sunrise. Two hours seem an eternity to wait now.
I shake my head, suddenly angry. It can't all fail when we are so close! Only two hours, 120 minutes, 7200 seconds, damnit!

There must be a way to do something. The old man came back an hour ago and grumbled a negative answer when I asked him desperately if anymore could be done. He then left as brusquely as he had come.
I've tried everything. I've talked to her for hours, held her hand, transmitted all the visions I could. Still I feel there's something more I can do.
Suddenly annoyed by my immobility, I rise from the stool and pace up and down in the small room, wondering angrily what is left to do. Sitting back down, I seize in a fit of anger my bag, lying there aimlessly on the ground. Fumbling in its interior, I push away map, torn cloak, compass from the last trial, crumbs, leather flask, an old dagger… and my eyes lay on a familiar shade of green. I tug on the fabric and the green hero's hat emerges from the depths of the bag.

Sighing in exasperation, I am about to thrust it into my pouch again when I recall the words I had uttered to myself when I had seen that hat for the first time. At that time, I only thought of myself as someone who wasn't the hero, only trying to become it, and whose chances to succeed were nearly non existent. I denied my destiny, Fi, the whole trials thing. I thought the hero's tunic looked absolutely ridiculous, and that all of it were just old women's tales.

That tunic still looks absolutely ridiculous. But I'm not ashamed of wearing it anymore. It represents everything I've become. I made it through the trials, no point in denying that. Denying my destiny was unthinkable long before I chose to embark on this quest. Fi… I now only realize how she has proved to be great friend despite all the odds. How much I would need her right now, her and no one else.
The goddesses… Yes, I've even stopped denying that. Was it just some pure coincidence that someone skilled enough arrived just after I had addressed myself to them, in tears, holding Zelda's body in my arms? I'll probably never know. But I know there's someone, out there, watching out for me.

Yeah. Even that I've stopped denying.
And as I gaze up from my hands and look towards the horizon, I slip on the hat. Outside, the sky has started to turn to a paler nightly blue.

Two hours later, the clouds have become mauve and the sky orange, and I can almost distinguish the first rays of sunlight filtering through the trees. On the bed, Zelda still hasn't moved. Although her skin is as pale as before, her heartbeat seems to have gotten stronger…
He enters the small room not long after, heavy dark rings under his eyes. « Have you even slept? », I cannot help but ask, suddenly fully realizing that we were occupying his home and that the man had nowhere to sleep.
He gives an unfriendly glance and waves it off, grumbling: « Doesn't matter, boy. »
Then bustling around Zelda and taking her pulse, he rudely gestures me to get out. I frown, offended.
« I'd like to remain here until she wakes up, if that doesn't bother you », I say as nicely as possible.
« It does bother me. Do I look like a man who speaks up for nothing? »
« No, but - »
« Then leave, boy! I need to be alone. Am I the one saving her or not? »
Opening my mouth to protest, I change my mind remembering that if it hadn't been for him she would be dead. Swallowing back my broken pride, I exit the hut without a sound.

Outside, I find the spirit sitting in the exact same place as when I left her. She hasn't moved during my absence: beads of dew cover her entire body. I sit beside her on the wet grass and wrap my arms around my knees.
After a minute of silence, without having looked at me once, she finally speaks up.
« Nice hat. »
She then waits for a few more seconds before turning to look at me, a smug smile on her face.
« How could you know I wore that hat? You never looked at me. »
« I can sense that hat. One of the things that come with the package of being the Sword of Evil's Bane. »
I chuckle faintly. « You're babbling complete nonsense, Fi. »
« Absolutely. »
A silence follows. « Why didn't you come to see me last night? I wish you had. Why did you stay here? »
« I had to talk with… an old friend. »
« All your old friends are dead, Fi, » I answer softly.
She looks at me and nods sadly. She then points to her head. « It was all in here. »
I sigh lightly. « You're in a talk-in-riddles mood, uh? »
She grins. « Pretty much, hero. »

The sound of the hut's door opening cuts our dialogue short. He emerge, still limping, and notices us. He approaches us slowly, and says, rather weakly : « She'll live. »
« How did you do it? »
He scowls. « You should stop asking questions, kid. I told you not to meddle in my affairs. You should be thankful for it, that's all. And to answer your question, I made sure of it. » With that said, he storms off without a second glance.
I frown, once more offended by his rudeness. But he's right.
« Hey! », I call out. He does not stop. « The grumpy man! », I shout. He abruptly freezes and slowly turns around, shock painted on his face. I choose to ignore it and simply say: « Thanks for everything you did. » Without wasting any more time and not awaiting his answer, I give a hand to Fi. She gladly takes hold of it and we both enter the small cottage without a word.

He comes back three hours later, as the sun climbs high in the sky and the temperature rises. But this time, he does not order us to leave. He simply stares at me, an unreadable expression painted in his greyish blue eyes. I realize I haven't had the opportunity to study the man yet. In his early sixties, his dark blond hair has gradually given place to grey streaks. A small beard covers his entire chin as well as above his mouth, which never seems to be smiling. A small scar decorates his left eyebrow, and his entire face starts to be wrinkled. His icy gaze still remains as deadly as a young man' however, and his eyes never seem to smile either.

He settles next to Zelda and starts to grind herbs with a pestle, the wooden instrument grating against the bowl. Without looking up at us, he asks: « What's your names, kids? »
Fi suppresses an ironic chuckle and manages not to snort about the appellation he has given us. « I'm Fi. »
« I'm… Keaton », I say, and immediately half regret my words. We barely know the man, and the last thing we need is him to turn us in with Zelda still weak. But then my face has been uncovered for the whole time and surely if he had heard of Keaton the Thief he would have already recognized me long ago… I push the thought aside and finish my sentence: « … and she is Night. »
I refuse to risk Zelda's life simply by revealing her name. I am alive and can fight, but she is on the verge of death and an easy prey. Though I saw an armour on the wall in the other room…

He looks at us in silence, examinating us. « I'm Dashil », he says after a while.
« …I saw a breast plate and a helm in the other room. You know how to fight? »
He looks up, eyeing us closely. « Aye. Was in the army in my younger years. » After pouring the beverage into Zelda's mouth, he gets up and leaves without a word. But as he crosses the doorway, a detail catches my attention.
« Wait! », I call out.
He stops and turns his head to look at me. « What? » he asks, on edge. I stare at his face for a moment, then shake my head. « Sorry, I thought I had seen something. I guess I was only hallucinating. »
He grumbles and leaves the hut, creating a draught as the winds enters through the open door.
« I saw it too », Fi says after a moment. « We'll have to watch out for it. »

Same day, sunset.
« How did this happen? How come she got injured? », he asks, sounding slightly curious.
« We got… attacked », I answer vaguely.
« I see », he replies on the same tone, eyeing us. I shift nervously under his gaze.
A minute of silence follows. « I remember bodies on the floor when I met you. Do you fight, boy? »
« I… know how to handle a sword. I can manage on my own, I guess, » I say, trying as much as possible to hide my skills.
« It would appear so », he says, sitting on the edge of his stool and running a hand through his hair.
« Does she fight? », he asks, pointing to Zelda. I slowly nod. « And do you? », he asks Fi.
She ponders for a second before answering: « Depends what you mean by fighting… But yes, I fight. »
He nods, seemingly lost in his thoughts. « I was good at sword fighting when I was younger. You could say… that I could handle a sword as well. Better than the others. »

I look up from Zelda's face, surprised. It's the first time he has told us something about him deliberately.
Another silence follows, and I finally dare to ask the question that has kept pursuing me for the past hours: « Why do you do this? Why are you helping her? »
« I don't know, boy», he breathes out without looking up, a hint of sadness in his voice.
« You look awfully tired, lad. You should sleep, » he adds immediately after, deliberately changing subject.
I shake my head. « Not until she wakes up. »
« The man's right. You haven't slept for nearly two days », Fi utters behind me. I look at her stubbornly. « I won't give in to sleep. I've held for much longer than that before. »
« Yes, but that was before. » About to retort, a sudden shift in my back stops me dead. Zelda stirs and very weakly opens her eyes, which seem to have lost all of their intensity. I can barely see the gold freckles drowning in the nightly blue. Her eyes only stay open for a moment, but she meets my gaze and the corners of her mouth lift ever so faintly.
« That hat looks good on you… », she whispers, before closing her eyes again and passing out. The old man lays a hand on her forehead and declares after a moment: « She's fine, only unconscious. She should wake again in the morning. What a quick recovery though… You had told me boy, but I did not expect that much… »
« Yeah, she's… pretty strong», I answer vaguely.

« Well, now I can sleep », I add right after, lying on the cold ground and pushing my bag under my head. « Fi will watch out for her if she wakes in the middle of the night. »
« And what if Fi falls asleep too? », he asks, frowning.
I smile knowingly. « Oh, trust me, she won't. » And with that said, I fall into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

« Link! Link, wake up! », a voice calls out softly to me, pulling me out of my rest. I grunt and open my eyes into mid-darkness, the flame of the candle emanating an uneven light in the corner of the room. Outside, the moon is still perched high in the sky.
« She's been shifting a lot recently. I think she is going to wake up soon », Fi whispers next to me. « Figured I might tell you. »
Indeed, ten minutes later, a weak Zelda opens up her eyes sleepily. Her sight focuses progressively and finally seeing me, she begins to smile. Her face is suddenly torn in a grimace of pain and she grunts: « Link… »
I take her hand to soothe her down. « Shhhh… I'm Keaton here, and you're Night, okay? Everything's going to be fine… »
Fi clears her throat and I stop in mid sentence. He comes in brusquely, his hair in a mess.
Zelda grunts again in pain and closes her eyes.
« How did you know she was awake? », I ask, surprised. He looks up at me, rather unfriendly, and does not answer. Turning to Zelda, he deliberately avoids my question and asks her: « How do you feel? »
Teeth clenched, she mutters: « Stomach hurts. »
« No kidding. You just have a hole through your body. »
She then opens up her eyes again to look at him and he seems thrown off for a second. « Well, I'd… better be off gathering some herbs then… », he says, the faintest of hesitation in his voice, turning around to leave.
That's when I see it. Just as he turns away, his eyes switch from grey to red.
« Wait a minute », I order. « Yes », Fi utters in agreement with me.
« What is it? », he asks on edge, turning back around, his eyes of their original greyish blue.
Pointing an accusative finger towards him, the spirit utters coldly: « You're a Sheikah. »
« And you are », he answers on the same tone, « an Asterian. »

The room suddenly falls silent.
How the hell does he know.

She breathes out next to me and only says: « Was. I'm not one anymore. »
Thank the goddesses she's in a good mood.
« All the Sheikahs are dead », I reply, focusing the problem on him.
He raises an eyebrow and smirks. « Do I look dead to you, boy? »
« And all the Sheikahs are not gone, after all… », Fi utters next to me. I look at her in alarm and give her my best you-better-not-say-the-thing-I-don't-want-you-to-say look. But she takes no notice and points to Zelda: « She's one of your race too. »
I heavily sigh and restrain the sudden urge to take her head and slam it against the wall.

He chuckles, shaking his head in denial. « That ain't possible. She's too young, and in any case I would have sensed it. »
« She's a Chosen Sheikah, not a Blood one. »
« Still. »
He turns to Zelda in irony and asks: « You ain't a Sheikah, are you? You all shouldn't lie to me - »
He is suddenly thrown off when Zelda's eyes, her whole body quivering, turn from dark blue to blood red. A second later, her head rolls backward and she passes out, the whole exercise draining her out completely. I sigh heavily once again. We're way past the point of return now.
Dashil's face quickly returns to a neutral expression and he watches us closely. « So, you all lied about your identities, have you? »
« You did as well. »
He looks up and eyes me for a moment, an unreadable expression in his eyes. « Fine, let's start again. Who is she? », he asks, pointing to Fi.
« I'm Fi, nothing has changed here. I… was an Asterian, which can give you an idea about my age. I am… the… spirit that resides in that sword right there. »
« That's a very nice way of saying things », I snort, rolling my eyes.
« So you're a sword. » Fi sighs heavily in exasperation.
« And who is she? », he asks, pointing to Zelda.
I hesitate. « Might as well be out with it », Fi says behind me.
« She's Zelda Nohansen Hyrule, 37th of her name. She was the heir to the throne before she left court forcefully and became a runaway. Current holder of the Triforce of Wisdom. »
Oddly enough he doesn't react at the mention of the Triforce. Maybe there still are a few who actually know about this thing.
« And you? », he asks, not even looking surprised that the person in his bed is the bloody princess.
« I am known to pretty much the entire population of Hyrule as Keaton, thief and assassin. My face is on every « Wanted! » poster of the land, and people know me as the most dangerous thief on the run. »
He crosses his arms and simply waits, looking rather unimpressed.
« … But I am also and mainly current holder of the Triforce of Courage, wielder of that sword over there and for now two days chosen hero of the Goddesses. My real name is Link. »
Something then flickers in his eyes, the first sign of emotion in those icy grey irises of his since we met him.
« And… what were you doing in this forest? Why were you attacked? What… is you purpose here? »
I hesitate once more, not knowing if I should reveal the full extent of our goal. « Tell him, Link. »
« We… want to bring an end to the slaughter that has been ravaging Hyrule for the past few months. We were going to kill Ganon. »

A long silence follows. Next to me, Zelda has awaken again and takes my hand. « Maybe… we shouldn't have told him… », she whispers weakly.
He shakes his head. « Your King isn't my friend neither. »
I frown, surprised. « How come ? »
« Do the Sheikahs look welcomed in Hyrule? You saw the armour in the other room. I wasn't some common soldier. I was Commandant of the King's Watch. I served him for more than twenty years, and still I had to flee when the Sheikahs all disappeared one after the other. When I said I could handle a sword… I very well mean it. »
« … As did I. »
A silence follows.
« Why didn't you go another country? Why stay here? », Fi asks.
He looks down sadly. « The Sheikahs mean nothing outside of Hyrule. My race has been bound to the Royal Family for centuries, whether it is to be hers », he says, gesturing Zelda, « or the man's who is our King. »

« That sign…. On your chest… », Zelda whispers all of a second. Now that I look at it, I can see a red teary eye on his chest, almost completely hidden by the fabric.
« What about it? »
« … Shadion used to wear it all the time… »
I frown at the unfamiliar name. « Shadion? Who's that? »
« She's an old woman who rescued me not long after I ran away… Rochnan had captured me, and that's where I met her… She's the one who told me to come and look for you… », she utters with difficulty, her voice barely above the sound of a whisper.
« Where is she now? », I ask.
« She died sacrificing herself for me… She told me in her dying breath that she was a Sheikah. I guess it all makes sense now… »
He nods. « That's the sign of the Sheikah. A red eye with a tear. Some even wore it as face paintings in the old times. »
« Did you know that woman? », I ask him.
« No », he answers without looking at me. But I sense something in his voice that betrays an emotion.
He rises soundlessly. « You should rest… Zelda. »
He then shifts his position, folds his arms and the first smile ever lights up his face. « An Asterian as a sword, a runaway princess, the hero also known as the most dangerous assassin in the realm, and a crazy old hermit Sheikah. What a fine group we make. »

A Brief Interlude:

Dashil managed to keep his smile as he left the hut, but as soon as he crossed the doorway it disappeared. He paused for a second, seemingly lost, and then started to run. He crossed the clearing and entered the forest that welcomed him with open arms.
He ran like a madman for ten minutes until his heart could bear no more. His injured leg got caught in a root and he collapsed limply on the ground, face in the dirt. He stayed for a few minutes, completely still, then pulled himself together and sat, leaning against an old oaken tree.

Sheikahs are not a people who easily give way to emotion. Stop it, you idiot!, he said to himself. But as he closed his eyes to catch his breath, a silent tear rolled out onto his cheek. He wiped it away angrily and lowered his head, trying desperately to push back the snatches of his past coming back to him.

Dashil was a hard man. Already in his younger years, he was not one who would smile easily. Harsh, merciless, sometimes rude, he was often disliked by the soldiers under his command. And he did not care. Such was the way of the Sheikah, he always told himself. After leaving the army, he became more and more uncommunicative and withdrawn. He was a man who knew how to master his sentiments, and above all control his face. So that no emotion could ever be shown.
But here it had been so terribly hard for him to contain himself. It was just too much.

First, the princess. Her warm gaze had startled him. He had been brought back 18 years before.
« Who is that? », he had asked, gesturing the baby in the nurse's arms.
« That, my dear, is our newborn princess », she had answered proudly, beaming.
He had frowned. « What princess? »
« Well, the heir of course. »
And Dashil had looked in the awakens baby's eyes, and had seen the night sky freckled with golden stars.

And now he realized painfully that he had never noticed the yellow triangle on her hand. Him, who had dedicated a huge part of his studies to ancient Hylian and Sheikahn mythology. At that very moment, there was the goddess reincarnated, the chosen hero and the Sword of Evil's Bane standing in his hut.

But nope, that wasn't enough. For the first time in 35 years, he had heard her name again. Shadion.
Of course he had lied. Of course he knew her. Better than anyone.

Their story had been a short and cruel one. Raised together, they soon became in love at each other at a young age. It was a passionate, fierce love. Both enamoured of Hyrule's legends, she was even more qualified than him on the subject. Excellent fighters, they were destined to great things.
But all had changed the day they discovered that their King was the holder of the Triforce of Power and was to be the demise of the land. Dashil chose to ignore it but she remained hesitant, torn between her duty as a Sheikah and her desire to end the threat before the disaster ever happened. Not long after, Dashil chose to enter the King's Watch, staying true to the traditions. She was violently opposed to it, and begged him to reconsider. He assured her of his safety, and gave as an argument his proximity with the King in case anything suspicious happened on his side.
One night, she had a vision in which she witnessed her lover's death, killed by the King's soldiers. Renouncing once and for all her traditions as protector of the royal family, she decided to assassinate Ganon. Alas, Dashil was on duty that night, and defending the King he injured her gravely before realizing who his opponent truly was.
He never saw her afterwards, and was utterly and completely broken after the incident.

« He's going to kill you! I saw it! Him or one of his soldiers! »
« You're only beginning to train as high priestess, your visions have only begun! We all know that the first ones don't make any sense. »
« Not this one! It seemed much too real! »
« Don't make such a fuss about this, Shadion. It's nothing. »
« Yes, but what if …? »
« What if, what if. And what I am to do? Our duty is to protect the Royal Family! What else can I do than to be at his side? If I am to die by his hand, then be it. »
« We could still stop this! He could never be a threat! »
« There's nothing to stop! Nothing has started, and nothing probably ever will. We ain't saviours, Shadow. It's not down to us to save the kingdom, but to the other two holders of the Triforce. Our job is to protect the Royal Family, and that's him. Would you abandon our traditions and our purpose to save a future that will never happen anyway? »

She chose the latter in the end, but never told him, by fear he would try to interfere. He had never been supposed to be on duty that night… It was only an accident, he told himself over and over again, but no matter how many times the words were repeated in his mind he could not push away the thought that it had been all his fault.

But Shadion was only a name he had given her. Her true name was hidden in the depths of his memory, and it hurt too much to even utter it out loud. Impa.

He had searched for her for years, before he learnt that she had supposedly died of the wounds he had inflicted her. Shattered, he returned to his purpose of Commandant of the King's Watch, dedicating himself completely to it. Ten years after, he had become the coldest man in the realm, immune to others, immune to his own self. A living man with a heart as hard as stone, and convinced that no one would ever hurt him again as Impa had done.

He was wrong.

Short-Straw came into his life when he was hardly 36. The boy was barely an adult, not even 18 when he entered the army under Dashil's command. He had a long lean face, with long brown hair in a ponytail, warm grey eyes and a small self-confident smile always on his face. Dashil had thought reshaping him into an obedient soldier as he had done it with all the others, … but things did not go out exactly turn out as planned.

The day Dashil left, he passed at Short-Straw 's house but the latter was not there. On his table was a letter addressed to him, retelling the first day they met from Short-Straw's point of view. The letter had now turned to ashes as he had thrown it in the fire in a fit of anger, but he still knew it by heart.

« Someone nudged me from behind, reminding me of the task at hand. Whispers emanated from all my fellow comrades, and I knew all eyes were on me. One of them ventured to lean forward despite the constant watch of the Commandant, and said so low only I could hear: « Don't forget! You're the one who picked the shortest twig. »

I sighed and wondered for the thousandth time in the last minute why I had agreed to do such a thing. Or why I was such a proud fool who could not resist a challenge and nearly seized his sword each time someone call him a coward. « You wanted it, you idiot », I told myself, whishing I had just thought before agreeing to do such a reckless dare.
The sun was high in the sky and the birds were chirping in the breeze; it was a beautiful spring day and it would probably be the last now for some time now. I closed my eyes and tried to push the mental image of myself cleaning the stables for the following weeks as punishment.

We were all lined up in the courtyard, waiting for the inspection. And of course, I was in the front row, where everyone especially the Commandant could see me. It wouldn't have been funny otherwise.
« On guard! », someone shouted, and our boots clicked together as they dug into the earth. Shoulders straight, arms by my side, chin up, I stared straight in front of me, unflinching.

« No practice for today, men of the King's Watch! », the Commandant barked in his usual harsh and unfriendly manner. « You are to escort Sir Allister until Gier. Another escort will take on as you arrive in the village. Understood? »
« Yes, sir! », the soldiers responded as one.
« Are you all a bunch of women with no voice? I have not heard you well. Understood? »
« Yes, sir! », the soldiers answered with more conviction. Some very low whispers followed right after, and if I had leaned towards them, I would have heard they were about me.
« Silence! », the Commandant barked once more, raising dangerously his voice. The hubbub of voices ceased immediately, but I knew all eyes were on me. I swallowed hard.
« No one will leave the escort for a second until your destination, you hear me, no one! »
A drop of sweat ran down my back. « Yes, sir! », I shouted with all the others, but when all the voices had stopped, I carried on with irony: « … Sir Commandant of the King's Watch, also known as the Bear, the Crow, the Torturer, the Sulky, the Barker, the Wolfo, and countless other ridiculous nicknames that you bear so well. » And with that said, I added an exaggerate curtsy to mark my words.
Dead silence followed.

The Commandant turned slowly around and looked coldly at me. At a slow pace, he walked towards me, his armour clanging at every step. He stopped right in front of me and stared icily into the eyes of the one that had just insulted him.
I forced myself to stare back at the Commandant, despite the dread paralyzing me. The man was not so old in fact, not even 40. He had wavy dark blond hair that fell to his cheekbones, and his eyes were of a deadly blue. A small scar decorated his face right above his left eyebrow. He cracked his knuckles in his palm and I thought my last hour had come. But the punch never came.
« Your name, soldier », he mouthed icily.
I smirked ironically. « The soldier who was unlucky enough to pick the shortest straw. »

A long silence followed, during which the Commandant only stared at me, as if to decide if he was to kill me or not.
Then after an endless wait, his lips twitched and the corners of his mouths were lifted into a smile.
« I like you, Short-Straw. Call me the Grumpy Man. »

He then turned away and headed for the courtyard's exit without another word. And just when I thought that I wouldn't get any punishment for my insolent behaviour, he raised his hand without turning back and simply said: « It shall be two weeks of laundry and cleaning stables for you, Short-Straw. And maybe by the end of that we'll be able to exchange our real names. »

The boy had actually never lost of his ironic smile of his, for Dashil never managed to make him lose it. But what always shocked Dashil was the way Short-Straw used to look at him.
He had a warm yet piercing gaze that gave him the inexplicable impression that he saw through his body right to his soul. Dashil had the impression that Short-Straw knew him, even the darkest corners of his mind, and it terrified him and fascinated him at the same time.
Despite the twenty years separating them, the two men found themselves growing closer to each other. Exchanging names was a first, and then fighting skills. Dashil found himself revealing more and more details on his past life despite himself.

At 20, Short-Straw was sent on a mission in Labrynna, and he came back with a woman his age, named Mhyriam. His comrades of course did not approve of his behaviour, but Short-Straw was sure of himself. The two were madly in love. One night, one of the officers rudely reproached Short-Straw of his actions. The latter became very angry and a violent fight started. Dashil, half drunk, chose to side with Short-Straw, and they both came back to Dashil's house limping and bleeding. That night, between the pain and the alcohol, Dashil found himself narrating his story with Impa.

From that day onward, the two relied on each other to go forward. When Mhyriam died giving birth 5 years after and leaving only a barely living child, Short-Straw was almost tempted to commit suicide, but it was Dashil that convinced not to do so.
Dashil had to leave the army 6 years after the tragic incident of Mhyriam's death. He received letters from his friend for years afterwards, the last ones becoming much less frequent and more and more negative. The last one ended with the painful words of a goodbye.

« This is all I have time to tell you before we're on the run again. I don't think I can hold much longer. We can't go on like this, I'm becoming weak and we barely have any food.
They're coming closer… It's nearly the end. I feel it.

Bye, my friend. Don't forget me too quickly. »

Dashil waited for a year, even two. Despaired, he left his hideout to search for his best friend and his child. He searched until he found out that Short-Straw had died, killed by Ganon's soldiers. Consumed by grief, he grabbed a sword that night and headed off for Hyrule Castle with the only desire to avenge the one who had been his best friend.
He met the King in the corridors, the moonlight through the windows. A sword in hand, his face bloodied, Dashil approached Ganon quickly, his expression determinate.

« Evening, Dashil. What a beautiful night, isn't it? »
Dashil stopped in front of him. « I guess you know why I'm here, then. »
« I know what you're about to do. What I don't know is why you're doing it. »
« You killed him. »
« Your friend? It had to be done. You'll probably never understand why, but you'll see that his sacrifice will make things better for our kingdom. I'm sorry he had to be you friend - »
« Sorry, my ass! I don't give a fuck about your motives. You filthy bastard, YOU KILLED HIM! »
« It had to be done - », he started, but was immediately thrown off as Dashil pointed menacingly his bloodied sword to the King's throat.
« You lie through your teeth. What about his child? Where is he? »
« Gone. Evaporated. »
« … Anything to say before I end your miserable life? »

Ganondorf's gaze stayed as cold as ice, and he remained silent.
« I'll make you pay for what you did. You killed him, you bastard of a king! », he shouted. The King caught the blade with his hand as it came swinging at him. His fingers had started bleeding, but he took no notice as he said:
« Look what you've become… You're killing the King you have served for twenty years and swore to protect with your life. If you had killed me when you had the power to do so all those years ago, Impa would not be dead and you friend would not be dead. You should have listened to her, and sided with her when she attacked on the night you were on duty so long ago. You can only blame yourself in all of this. »

Dashil had dropped his sword, and had backed away shaking his head, realizing what Ganon said was partly true. Blinded by grief and fear, he ran away from the castle in the middle of the night. He had returned to his hideout and since then never left it, hiding away in it like a coward, trying as much as possible to forget his broken past. It had only been five years ago.

When Link revealed his name, Dashil felt the grief and the pain of his years come back to him.
Another tear rolled down the old man's cheek as he sat in the woods all alone. It was just too much.
For at that moment, the goddess reincarnated, the chosen hero and the Sword of Evil's Bane were sitting in his house. And that hero was his best friend's son.