Chapter Text
Prologue
Song: Experience by Ludovico Einaudi
It was the perfect spring day, and Zelda couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than playing hoop and hide in the gardens with her best friend, Link. He never failed to find her no matter where she hid, but today would be different. This time he’d never discover her, wedged as she was in a small alcove behind a squirrel topiary. She was sure to win. Stifling a giggle, she peeked around the shrub.
His keen ears perked up at the small sound and he swiveled his head in her direction. She caught a flash of his sapphire blue eyes and quickly ducked back behind the greenery. Clasping her hands in front of her mouth to stifle her laughter, Zelda squeezed her eyes shut. She stood as still as a statue, making herself as small as possible, and tried to blend in with her surroundings.
He trod softly, his riding boots barely making a sound on the gravel pathways. She strained to ascertain if he was approaching or moving away in a different direction. His footsteps stopped. She pressed her back against the cool wall and held her breath. The earthy aroma of the hedge filled her nostrils. There wasn't another sound other than buzzing bees in the nearby rose bushes.
At least another minute passed. Zelda smiled, basking in her victory. Her excitement was brief, however, when feather-light ripples along her sides halted the thought before it took root. Shrieking, she batted at the hands tickling her.
Her eyes flew open to find Link's mischievous face inches from her own. She could see the light dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose from hours spent in the sun herding goats on his family’s estate. A gentleman farmer was what his father, Ordona, the Duke of Faron, jokingly referred to himself as.
Link’s dark blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “Found you, Mouse.”
“No fair!” she cried, but her protest dissolved into laughter as he mercilessly tickled her. When she finally broke free, her breath came in ragged gasps, and her mirth deflated. She scowled at the cocky grin plastered on his face. “Stop calling me Mouse. I hate that nickname.”
He tossed a lock of blond hair out of his eyes. “Do not.”
“Do too!” She marched past him toward the Great Fairy fountain situated at the center of the garden. Blue and green rupees, scattered along the bottom, glittered in the bright afternoon sun. “I’m never playing hide and seek with you again if you keep calling me that.”
He followed after her, uncontrite and still chuckling. “Come on, Mouse. Don’t be a spoilsport.”
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to tell everyone we know you’re still afraid of the dark.” She whirled around to face him, tossing her long, auburn hair over her shoulder.
Two bright splotches of red bloomed on Link’s cheeks. The trickling of the water into the large marble basin grew louder by the minute as they stared at one another. Zelda held on to her sternest glare, brows drawn in and mouth thinning.
“You wouldn’t really do that, would you?” His stricken face doused her anger in an instant.
Her expression crumbled. Why had she said that? It was their secret, something he’d confided to her, and her alone, long ago.
Link feared the encroaching darkness the twilight brought with it every evening. He burned a candle at night to keep the shadows and their suffocating presence at bay. He'd confessed to it during one of their heartfelt conversations when she'd explained why she could no longer visit his home, Faron Grove Hall, nestled amongst the woods of Faron.
When Zelda was only seven, she had experienced a horror that would be forever seared in her memory. A pack of wolves, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger, had descended upon her and her mother when they had been out one evening taking a stroll. Zelda had escaped, but her mother hadn’t been so fortunate. This traumatic event had left an indelible mark upon and ever since, she refused to set foot in any type of glen and forest.
“No, of course not! We shared those confidences in good faith.” She reached for his hand and pulled him down to sit beside her on the edge of the fountain. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“I do.” Link looked down, his expression still pensive. “It’s stupid, even my father says so. You’d think, at fifteen, I’d have outgrown it by now. Your fear will always be valid, mine is not.” When he looked back at her, a small furrow between his brows marred his otherwise smooth features. “I’m sorry I upset you. I’ll stop calling you Mouse. If I can’t overcome my own fear, I shouldn’t say anything that may remind you of yours.”
He’d called her Mouse since the day they met, long before her mother’s tragic death. She’d been shy and timid at first, until his friendly smile and calm demeanor had broken the ice between them.
Link put on a brave face, and she knew she was the only one, outside his family, he’d ever trusted with his fear of the dark. She shouldn’t have thrown it down like a gauntlet between them. Tears stung the corners of her sky blue eyes. She didn’t want to ever do anything to make him doubt her trust and friendship.
“I’m sorry, too." Zelda sighed, regretting her empty, thoughtless threat. "It’s not stupid to be afraid of something. Mouse doesn’t upset me because of what happened to my mother. I don’t want you to think I’m as timid as one.”
“I would never think that,” Link assured her. “You are far removed from those traits. You’re the smartest, most adventurous girl I know.”
Raising an eyebrow, Zelda blinked away the tears and gave him an appraising look. “Oh? What about Ilia? You told me once that she roams the forests barefoot.”
“She’s only a friend.” He rubbed the back of his neck before glancing at her and away again. “You mean far more to me.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his confession, and warmth flooded her cheeks. Zelda turned her head, allowing her hair to fall across her face, under the pretense of staring at the clear water bubbling in the fountain. She didn’t want him to see how his simple declaration affected her.
Link took her hand, clasping it between his. It was an act they’d done a thousand times, but never before had it caused her scalp to prickle so pleasantly. “Do you forgive me, Zelda?”
She chanced a glance at him, his blond hair shimmered like spun gold in the sunlight and the sincerity she saw in his eyes pierced her soul. Her unspoken feelings for him were mirrored there. Something that had naturally blossomed between them as the years had passed, without them even noticing—until now it seemed.
Her breath caught in her throat at the realization and her answer came as a hushed whisper, barely audible, “Yes.”
Blowing out a puff of air he’d been holding, just as she had, Link smiled shyly. “Good. Now that that’s settled, I have a gift to give you.” He reached for something in his waistcoat pocket.
“A gift?" She raised a querying eyebrow. "My fourteenth birthday is still a month away.”
“I know. I was going to save it until then, but, well…” He pulled a delicate silver chain from his pocket.
Zelda widened her eyes. From his fingers hung a beautiful amethyst pendant shaped like a teardrop the size of a walnut. It sparkled as it swung between them, and an ethereal glow emanated from its center. She looked from the elegant piece of jewelry to his expectant eyes and back again. This was no ordinary gift.
“It’s a Twili shadow crystal. My mother gave it to me last year when I turned fifteen. It’s a few years before we’ll be of age,” he continued, his voice tinged with nervousness, “but I can’t imagine having someone other than my best friend always by my side… Would you consider…”
Zelda threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace, cutting off the rest of his question. It’s meaning couldn’t be plainer. It was a promise. No matter when he asked her, there was only one answer she'd ever give.
“Yes!”
—
“I’m sorry.”
Zelda couldn’t breathe. The gaping, black hole that had sprung in her chest engulfed her heart. She shook her head, refusing to believe the devastating news her father had just delivered.
That her one true love was gone.
She clutched the teardrop pendant until its faceted edges cut into her palm. Her throat closed up, constricted tightly, as if invisible hands were choking the life out of her. Tears welled in her eyes, and cascaded down her cheeks. Hot against her cold skin.
“No, you’re wrong. I’d know! I’d feel it. He’s not dead!”
“Zelda, I’m sorry. The letter I received left no doubt.” Her father handed her the missive. His blue eyes, the same color as her own, looked as anguished as the grief taking root deep within her. It was already becoming a tangible thing, she’d carry with her for the rest of her life. How could she not?
The words on the page spoke of tragedy and sorrow. Nearly the entire estate burned to a charred husk. The Duke of Faron and his small family—perished. The servants, safe in their quarters, unable to reach them in time.
It was a mistake. It had to be. This was only a nightmare. The truth was too awful to bear. She pinched herself, willing herself to wake up, but the letter remained, crumpled between her clenched fingers. The hole in her chest grew to a disproportionate size.
Link was truly gone.
Her father’s voice came as if from a great distance, explaining that the fire had started on the second floor, likely caused by an unattended candle near Link’s bed. A tragedy that could have been avoided if the bed curtains had been properly tied. A sudden gust through an open window had blown them into the flickering flame. The howling winds of Faron's rolling hills made it impossible to keep the blaze from spreading rapidly. It soon engulfed the entire east wing of the estate.
“He was afraid of the dark.” Tears ran in endless streams down Zelda’s face. She covered her mouth to muffle the gut-wrenching sob trying to claw its way from her throat. First her mother. Now Link. How could life be so cruel to take away those she loved the most in the world?
Her father reached for her, arms open, ready to pull her into a tight embrace. She pushed away, rushing past him to the door of his office and out into the drafty corridor. The only arms she wanted holding her were Link’s. The last hug they’d shared had been by the fountain; the day they’d given each other their hearts. She raced through the corridors trying to outrun the loss following close on her heels.
Bursting out of the castle into the moonlit gardens, Zelda stumbled down the paths. The once comforting scents of freshly turned earth and night-blooming flowers hung, thick and cloying, in the air. When she reached the topiary garden where she and Link had spent so many blissful hours, Zelda threw herself on the marble ledge of the fairy fountain. Its coldness seeped through her skirts—a harsh reminder of her new reality.
Zelda began to tremble as the shock of her father’s soul-crushing news sank in. How could she possibly go on knowing she’d never see Link again?
Memories flooded her mind. They’d never again go riding over Hyrule Field or spend lazy afternoons walking in the gardens sharing their secret hopes and dreams. She’d never see his crooked smile again, or his dark blue eyes, filled with endless curiosity, gazing at her. A lump formed in her throat. She’d never hear his laughter or the sound of his voice teasing her. And worse of all, he'd never call her Mouse again.
She wept. Tears pouring, nose running in seemingly endless torrents of grief. The awful, choking sobs, ripped from her chest, drowned out the drone of crickets and the trickling water. She cried until there was no moisture left within her. By the time the last tear fell from her eyes her body ached, as if she’d been beaten. She’d lost track of time—had it been hours or mere minutes since she stumbled here?
As her sobs softened to quiet whimpers, a faint tread on the nearby gravel path caught her attention. She stiffened and hastily wiped the remaining tears from her face with her handkerchief. Had her father come looking for her? She’d pushed him away in his moment of need. He’d lost his best friend, too. Ordona had been her father’s closest friend and advisor.
Lifting her head, Zelda scanned the garden.
The various shapes and heights of the topiary, highlighted by the silvery moonlight, cast eerie shadows over the ground. She heard the noise again. But it wasn’t boots on gravel, as she had expected. Low snuffling accompanied something cautiously moving along the path. A sound alarmingly similar to that of her father’s hunting hounds when they searched for prey. Or wolves prowling in the underbrush of the glen where she had once walked with her mother.
Out of the darkness emerged a small, pale wolf with unusual white markings swirling on its head and body. The memory had become a living nightmare. Fear slivered like ice down her spine. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest, and her mind raced. What should she do?
Zelda and her mother had been taking an evening stroll a mere stone’s throw from the castle when the wolves, having lost their fear of humans, came upon them without warning. But never had they trespassed within the castle walls.
The wolf moved toward her with deliberate slowness, its muscles rippling beneath its silvery fur. One luminous blue eye locked onto her, its gaze sharp and piercing. The other, opaque and clouded from a recent injury, stared ahead unseeing.
Instinct kicked in. Zelda screamed, her blood-curdling shriek splitting the still air and freezing the wolf in its tracks.
Rattling armor and pounding footsteps answered her call. The wolf—hardly larger than a pup—whined, giving her a doleful look.
“Help me!” Zelda cried out, scrambling to stand on the fountain, and nearly falling into the basin.
The approaching soldiers' shouts grew closer. With a parting whimper, the wolf turned tail and ran, kicking up gravel in its haste to escape. Covering her ears, Zelda didn’t stop screaming until the soldiers arrived.
Not long after, a mournful howl echoed through the night.