#You don't know how bad I wanted Link to say Your dancing master like syrio forel or something hahaha!!

[deiliamedlini]

WIP Wednesday

I have been mentally down and writing poorly for a few weeks now, and even my friend was like “oof, yeah don’t post this yet. It needs work” and thankfully has been stopping me from making rash decisions like randomly posting fics to AO3 on a whim.

The WIP below (even though it needs more editing) is the beginning of the new fic I’m going to post next. I’m finally back to the pirates too, which is making progress, but is just slow going because I’m making sure I’m not forgetting plots (which I already have so I am not rushing the chapter but it is in progress finally!).

It’s a Pre-Calamity AU with heavy emphasis on the AU. It’s basically Zelda being forced to train with Link for her safety. Antagonistic-but-not-enemies, to friends, to lovers trope. I want to call it Dance With Me because it’s not really about dancing (I like the other meanings of the phrase), but my friend says it sucks as a title and now I’m rethinking 😂 I’m doing so well! 

~~

When Princess Zelda was seventeen years old, she’d been fully prepared to die.

Ancient prophecies had foretold a Great Calamity that would sweep the land of Hyrule into a great blight and destroy it all unless those chosen by destiny could stop it.

Zelda had been one of those who’d been blessed by the Goddess’s alleged favor: Hylia’s spirit and magic coursed within her.

But the wielder of the Master Sword hadn’t been found in time.

Four champions stayed by the Divine Beasts: Urbosa, Revali, Daruk, and Mipha. And for a year, the five of them waited while King Rhoam of Hyrule went on a mad search for the Chosen Hero and for the location of the Master Sword itself.

Zelda had spent that time relentlessly pursuing the Goddess’ power; she passed out in the holy springs, prostrated herself before Goddess statues for hours at a time, devoted every waking second she had to prayer. But despite her greatest efforts, her attempts were fruitless.

But perhaps the Goddess were showing their favor after all, because despite every prophecy, despite every prediction, wall carving, and palm reading, the Calamity never came, and Zelda was spared a horrific death at the hands of darkness incarnate.

One year after the predicted date, the Champions felt like they could finally move away from the Beasts, ever watchful, but able to maintain some of their daily lives. Zelda stopped spending day and night in freezing water and instead moved to the Temple of Time where the weather was bearable, and the distance was well within reach of the Castle while still spending most of her time in holy grounds.

Two years after the predicted date, the Champions began to lead normal lives again, freely leaving their domains, though they were still ready to return at a moment’s notice. Zelda began to spend more time in the library, sifting through ancient tombs and personal diaries of past monarchs, hoping her answer lied in pages rather than prayer.

Three years after the predicted date, the Champions were harder to find on a day-to-day basis. But Zelda remained steadfast and relentless with her nose in books and her knees in the spring’s water. The Sheikah had to pull her out several times. They had to force her into recovery.

But by the fourth year, the Beasts had gathered dust, and Zelda had utterly given up, instead helping Purah and Robbie with their ancient tech and Guardian research, which—despite the lack of the Calamity—still had other practical applications.

It seemed that everything had been built up for no reason, that there was no Calamity after all.

So, it was only when they’d all gotten comfortable that the Yiga Clan, a cult devoted to the demon lord Ganon, began their relentless assault on Princess Zelda, heir to the Goddess’ devastating sealing powers.

The entirety of that year had been spent with Zelda running from attack after attack, losing her guards, losing Sheikah. She was sent back to the castle where Purah set up protective wards around her room that ran off ancient tech, and she continued working on them so they might be able to encompass the entire castle.

King Rhoam’s royal command had been that Zelda could not touch any Sheikah tech. She couldn’t look at Guardians, or ask about runes and wards. So, Zelda returned to her studies once more until her eyes burned from sitting over tombs in the candlelight.

She had to admit, she’d become proficient in her royal duties, following her father to almost everything she was permitted in. What she wasn’t, he’d fill her in on after.

At this point, a vast majority of Hyrule believed the peace was a sign that the Calamity was never going to arrive. The other school of thought, which Zelda subscribed to, was that the Calamity should be feared far more than ever, its unpredictability keeping the other half of the kingdom in a deeply rooted state of caution and suspense ever since.

Though Zelda had asked her father to let her leave the protection of the Castle more often for experiences outside of prayer, his answer was always the same: “I lost your mother to those cultists; I will not lose you as well.”

“I just want to swim in Lake Hylia,” she’d tried once. “The days have gotten unbearable. Please, father? I’ll take an entire company of guards with me.”

“I’m sorry, Zelda. No. You may go to a spring of your choice. The waters there will likely be a cool temperature. Perhaps try the Spring of Wisdom.”

Zelda was 21, though she felt as though one hundred years had passed. She was tired, bone weary with an exhaustion that had set in so deep, she spent a decent amount of her days simply sleeping. When she was awake, she stared at her hand, waiting for magic to miraculously hit her in the face. Perhaps if she stared long enough, the Goddess would take pity on her patheticness.

The days when she’d been sent out to pray were now her favorites. She’d found ways to coerce her guards into taking longer routes, stopping for longer breaks.

That’s what happened on the day her father had reached his breaking point regarding the attacks on her life.

She returned to the castle shaken and sore, but his tight arms held her as his body shook with relief. He sank to his knees and held her in his arms the way he’d done the day her mother died, and he realized he needed nothing more than to hold his child in his arms to remember that the world was still spinning as long as she was alive.

He’d told her that when he’d said goodnight to her, standing in the doorway of her room with poorly concealed heartache written all over his sagging body.

“I’m really fine,” Zelda said for the fourth time that hour. She sat on top of her long, blue satin sheets, sliding a bit as she tried to adjust her leg. Something about being curled into herself in some way helped make her feel comfortable as she smiled to ease her father’s mind.

“Okay. Well, I’m going to stop by in the morning, if that’s alright.”

“Sure,” she said, shrugging as if she were entirely unaffected by everything she’d been through. She was good at that façade after five years of stares and whispers.

“Okay. Goodnight. May the Goddess watch over you.”

That was how Zelda found herself in the library before the crack of dawn, perched on a ladder in the top shelves of the restricted section. She had access, of course, but she was reading an untranslated a Sheikah tomb from a former handmaiden of the Princess of Hyrule before her ascent to the throne. That Princess had practically bled power, and Zelda hoped her handmaid noted something of interest.

She tucked the book under her arm and climbed down, crossing the library that was filled with several lifetimes worth of books, and stopped in the government documents. Her eyes trailed the spines for a familiar one with territories clearly outlined. She went to the language section to grab a reference book for Ancient Sheikah. Though she was mostly fluent in that, among several other languages, the ancient variations on words occasionally tripped her up. So she set back up to her room with her pile of books, ready to be confined by her father for her safety once again.

Zelda nodded to several of the guards she passed as they stood at their post. Despite the castle being one of the safest places in Hyrule thanks to all the tech, guards were still positioned in the most well-traveled places on their patrols, while two guards stood at her door and her father’s.

Biting her lip, Zelda craned her neck around her pile to try to find the doorknob, fumbling her hand around blindly, just barely able to turn the handle. And because the Goddess never wanted to cooperate with her, she dropped two of the books, though she managed to cling to the relic with tight fingers. The other two fell right onto her guard’s foot.

“I’m so sorry!” Zelda muttered, bending to pick them up.

The guard was beside her, nearly banging heads with her as he grabbed the heavy translation tomb. Thankfully for her, he flinched away in time; he was wearing a helmet that covered most of his head, and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that metal. “Don’t apologize,” the guard said softly, picking up the other book for her. “Would you like me to…” He gestured vaguely to her room.

“Oh, no thank you. Just stack them on top of this one.” He did, and she took a step inside before backing up. “Actually, would you mind getting the antechamber door for me, please?”

He stepped inside and pushed the second door open before backing up respectfully.

“Thank you so much,” she said, about to use her foot to close the door when she looked back. “And again, I am sorry I dropped a heavy book on your foot.”

He bowed his head and stepped back out, so she closed the door and set her books down.

Her father came into her room early, as promised.

“Zelda,” he said with a strained greeting. The corner of his lip twitched, like his muscles had become tired under the strain of holding it up for so long, and his eyes held no joy, no spark. It was forced chipperness, and Zelda picked up on it immediately.  “May I sit?”

“Of course.”

She sat on a chest at the foot of her bed, and he pulled the chair away from the desk to face her. “Well, let’s not beat around the bush. There have been many attempts on your life, but I have felt none so potently as yesterday’s. When they told me you’d been attacked, all I could remember was the news of your mother. And then when you were brought in…” he ran a hand along a bruise on her cheek that she didn’t realize she had until she felt a flare of pain cause her to flinch. “You are my precious daughter, and I love you. I never want to see you harmed. That said, others do. It’s becoming impossible for you to safely leave the castle.”

Zelda braced herself. This was where he confined her to her room or to the palace grounds for the foreseeable future. She folded her hands over her lap so he couldn’t see the shaking grow more visible.

“You’ve been unable to protect yourself with your powers, so we must resort to other means. You’re to learn to defend yourself, starting immediately. We still need you at the springs, so I cannot command you to stay here. You still are a priestess of Hylia. So, given your setbacks, you’ll need to learn.”

Zelda’s mouth dropped open as she let the words process through her mind. “I’m sorry, what?”

“We’ll hopefully have a sword in your hand soon enough, but you’ll be able to defend yourself from these cultists.”

“A sword?”

“It’s too dangerous. We’ve lost too many guards. And you can’t fight as it is. This is the best option.”

“No!” she said, much louder than intended. “Fight the Yiga?” She shuddered just at the word.

“Zelda, we need you to live. Hyrule needs you to succeed, and to succeed, you must survive.”

Standing up didn’t make it any easier to breathe, as Zelda had hoped. “You think I haven’t tried?” Tears threatened her eyes as her voice cracked on her last word. As if years of her life sacrificed to unreturned devotion wasn’t enough for her. For him. For all of Hyrule. She’d tried, she’d bargained, she’d offered up her comfort, her breath, her mind, her years, her time. She was one person. What was left for her to do?

“Do you think I just stand there and watch my knights get murdered? Do I just drop to my knees and pray? Is that what you think I do?”

“Zelda…”

“No! You’re right, father. I’ll lead the Yiga right to the Goddess Spring that you need me to go to again just so I can brandish a sword and strike one down with my prowess! Because, Goddess knows that my Knights have an easy enough time with the Yiga, so it should be a cinch for me!” The sarcasm oozed from her in an unintentional venom drip.

“You’re telling me that I’ve failed! You’re telling me to give up and grab a stupid sword! Give me some armor next time I go to the Temple of Time! I don’t need my priestess garb. I have my sword! Because it will absolutely save me!”

“Zelda, please.”

“Please,” she scoffed, finally feeling a hot tear on her cheek. “You’re telling me I’m going to die! Five years ago, I was ready. I knew I’d failed, but I stood vigil waiting for the Calamity to give my life in the final hope that it might stop Ganon! But now, I was blessed with time, and still I can’t do it! I can’t access her powers. So you want me to fail one more time by using a sword to defend myself? This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and I was there when Lady Styla proposed that sham of a fashion show to lift spirits.”

“That’s irrelevant, Zelda.”

From the look on his face, she could tell he was not budging. She tried another tactic. “I-I shouldn’t be near a sword anyway! What if I stabbed myself by accident? Then there’s no way I’ll ever unlock mother’s power. I’ll be dead with or without the Yiga! I already dropped a book on my guard today! That could have been my foot with a knife! And before you tell me that there have been warrior queens and princesses throughout the history of Hyrule, that’s because they never met me. I’m not a fighter! I read books all day! I take notes. I can bore the Calamity to death with a detailed review of the territory lines in Northern Akkala! That might be more effective than a sword, at least.”

“Zelda, you’re not thinking of the big picture…”

“But if I don’t unlock the power because of some silly distraction like learning how to fight, then the world will fall to the Calamity. My time will now need to be spent in that wretched training area with all kinds of sweaty men. Do you want your precious daughter exposed to such a sight? Worse yet, what if I like it and decide to spend all my days there with… shirtless men!” She grimaced and blushed all at once.  

“This is the most absurd argument I’ve ever heard. You leave me no choice but to make that a command from your king rather than a request from your father. Because as much as I love you, I also am obligated to keep you safe.”

“Obligated?” her voice cracked again, losing some of her rambling thunder. “I’m an obligation? Is that how you see your daughter?”

She gasped when he let the silence answer for him.

“You start your training now. Your instructor has already been informed and will be ready for you.”

“Who?” she asked, glancing at the four guards at her door. Two hers, two her father’s. They were all hearing her shame. How long until everyone knew?

“He’s the most renowned swordsman in all of Hyrule, one of our best fighters, and he’s about your age, so he should be someone you can get along with.”

“The best fighter in all of Hyrule is only 22? No wonder the Yiga are everywhere, if those are our standards.”

“Be kind, Zelda.”

“Is that another order, My King?”

He sighed and crossed the room, stopping at her door. “One more thing. While you’re there, I’ve given him permission to overrule you if you command him not to train you. You will learn to stay safe, whether you want to or not. Now change and go. He’s expecting you now.” He turned his head to her guards. “Make sure she goes to the training yard, and if she refuses, come fetch me.”

As soon as he was gone, she slammed her door and sagged into the wood.

She did consider hiding out, but she knew her father would simply bring the soldier into her room to train if he had to. At this point, with the number of times the Yiga had come after her, she wouldn’t have really blamed her father if he’d locked her in a door-less room and dropped this instructor in through a hole in the ceiling until she learned to protect herself.  Truthfully, the idea itself—in theory—wasn’t the worst. Except for the fact that the Yiga were deadly warriors who trained to kill for most of their lives and slaughtered companies of trained Hylian knights.

Grabbing her most comfortable pants to train in, Zelda slowed as she remembered the event that had started this all.

The Great Tabanthan Bridge crossed the long expanse of the Tanagar Canyon, and she was always careful of the crossing. The fall alone would not only kill someone, but it’d likely flatten them clean out from a drop of that height. So, crossing it was not something that was taken lightly on a good day.

Being that far out there was entirely her fault to begin with.

She’d desired to visit the Temple to Hylia that was at the edge of the gorge, but she’d opted to lead everyone along the scenic route to enjoy some of her free time outside of the castle. The guards had protested briefly, but Zelda was adamant about a scenic detour.

What she hadn’t been able to predict or expect, no matter how much research she did, was that the Yiga were there, lying in wait for her and her guards.

She’d been bucked clean off her stubborn horse, and she’d been left on the great bridge as three Yiga ran for her. Though she’d gone to run, she was caught by one who appeared in front of her in a puff of smoke.

Trying to fight them off of her had been like the great struggle of praying for the Goddess’ powers: utterly futile, and a waste of time.  

Half of her attempts to shake them had been by holding the rope handle of the bridge and throwing herself precariously close so they’d have to follow.

The soldiers eventually reached her and fended the Yiga off, but they’d also recounted the entire incident to her father in horrific detail: how she was winded by the time she’d run halfway across the bridge, how she nearly fell off the great, how she couldn’t fight any of them off and had been overwhelmed, and how her weak strength had caused two large wounds in her palms from where she’d tried to push a blade away from her at one point.

Glancing down at her now-healed hands—thanks to the castle medics—Zelda pulled on her boots and tugged up the laces tight. She wasn’t weak. She just wasn’t… physically domineering. But put any puzzle, any riddle, any impossibility in front of her and she’d find the solution. That’s not weakness. That’s strength. She is strong… just not traditionally.

Her shirt was loose, and she tied up her hair before looking at herself in the mirror for a long time, finally noticing the bruise she’d sustained. She was going to hate this almost as much, if not more, than she hated horseback riding.

Resigned to her fate, Zelda trudged slowly toward the training yard, hoping to be late enough to at least remind everyone that she didn’t want to be there.

Glancing at the sun, she’d determined that she managed to be at least fifteen minutes late. Not bad. She could do worse next time.

The yard was empty of the usual hustle and bustle that went on, and she imagined that her father must have ordered it be kept clear for her private sessions. But it was also clear of an instructor.

She stood in the middle of the training yard and fisted her hands tightly as she looked around. No one. Her eyes narrowed at the empty space, searching for some sign of trickery. But the only others there were the two guards she had brought with her.

“Is this some sort of a joke?” Zelda asked, placing her hands on her hips. “Hello?”

There was no answer.

Shrugging happily to herself, she was ready to leave, but one look at her guards standing near the entrance reminded her of her father’s orders to fetch him if she didn’t go; either she stayed here long enough to prove that she made the attempt, or she’d be embarrassingly dragged back down by her father’s guards, humiliated as they would keep hold of her arms to ensure she followed them right back here. Her father would make sure she was here, no matter what.  

Crossing her arms, Zelda walked around. She rarely went to the training yards unless she was up in the parapets, so being down in the dirt and grass felt like she was in an entirely new world. One she didn’t belong in.

There were training dummies lined up against a wall and a worn dirt track in a wide circle around the outskirts of the otherwise square area. There was a bench. There were weapons on a rack.

And that was it.

She looked at the footprints etched in the dirt, kneeling down to read the story told by the shoe treads. There was a large step forward, and then several overlapping smaller ones as the wearer clearly stumbled back. Then a single skid mark as they were forced back. And then the imprint of a body where they’d fallen.

If Zelda were here under any other circumstances, she’d have smiled and tried to find all the stories in the dirt, but instead, she stood back up and sighed, craning her neck towards the barracks just past the archway. No one was outside, and no one was coming.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, prepared to leave. But her eye caught on a weapon rack, and she glanced one more time at the barracks before heading to the largest spear. She held it, pretending she was one of her knights. Goddess, if a Yiga came at her, she’d die. Fear first, and then clumsiness, because who could control this glorified stick well enough to kill a Yiga?

She shuddered and put it back.

“You can get there eventually,” someone said.

She spun around to see one of her two guards walking towards her. He removed his helmet, shaking out his blonde hair. Zelda watched in confusion as he set the helmet down on a post and pulled a blue band off his wrist to tie his long hair back.

“But only if you’re not fifteen minutes late on purpose,” he said, not looking up at her. “Princess,” he added with a bow of his head.

Her mouth dropped slightly and her cheeks warmed at the light scolding. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, almost doubting if she’d heard him correctly.

She scoffed at his audacity, recognizing the bright blue eyes of the guard she’d dropped her book on. Did he think that a conversation with her this morning gave a guard the right to chastise her?

He held out his hand, and she instinctively handed the spear back, though in hindsight she wished that she’d hit him with it instead. She’d been too stunned. He returned it to it’s place, and walked across the entirety of the training yard without so much as looking at her.

Her feet tumbled after him as she mentally and physically struggled to keep up. What was happening? Why wasn’t he answering her? Why was he even talking to her? Who was this man?

“Hey!” she finally called. He stopped and turned.

That’s when he looked up for the first time, his downcast blue eyes lifting off the dirt and settling on her green ones.

Pride swelled in her when she saw them waver, because clearly her voice had rattled him in some way. He clearly didn’t like looking her in the eye either. His eyes kept darting off of hers, and he had to keep forcing them back. Her own eyes narrowed, trying to understand this guard. “Who are you?”

“Your instructor.” 

#wip wednesday #legend of zelda #botw au #pre-calamity au #link #zelda #zelink #writing #still needs another round of editing to not make it boring #You don't know how bad I wanted Link to say Your dancing master like syrio forel or something hahaha!! #and now you know half the reason why I want this title