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idyllcy · 3 days

Text

this is a drama. i am the drama.

word count: 10.4k

WARNINGS: mentions of SA, mentions of sex trafficking, mild violence (all r kinda glossed over but still warning), Nonexplicit smut

summary: your soul drowns Tim, but he finds comfort in it.

The city of Gotham is not phased by much.

From the drug trafficking in the docks to the human trafficking happening under everyone's nose, the average citizen doesn't really care. Though, arguably, they do mind when their sleep is disturbed by the sound of racing cars— something else that isn't necessarily new in Gotham. However, there had been news that the racers were steering off into the city at night, so Tim finds himself in civilian clothes, holding up a pass to access the venue that the racers were using, stepping in past the loud noises and people screaming. Ah, he made it in time.

He's surprised to find actual racing cars— cars that look like they could be in a grand prix.

From the seats, he meets eyes with a racer. He can't tell anything, but from posture and body frame, a woman. Now that he looks at it, all the racers seem to be female-presenting. He turns down the drink offered by one of the men, striking up a conversation instead, batting his lashes at the man, hoping to seduce him in some way. He wore too much clothing to be able to do so with his body, but it was still worth a shot. He hates dressing up like this anyway.

"So, what's a goody two shoes like you doing here?" The man smiles, sliding an arm around his shoulder.

"A friend gave me his pass because I said I'd never watched a Gotham street race." He bats his lashes. (Hopefully the fake lashes Stephanie glued don't fall off. God, did he hate dressing as Caroline)

"Really? Usually we place our bets on a racer." He hums, waving a guy over, dropping a twenty in a box. "I'd recommend you vote for Spitfire, she's an oldie and usually wins."

"Who are the others?" Tim slips a twenty from the back of his phone, blinking at the other names.

The man chuckles. "Lightwing is another good contender. She's been around forever. But also, her vision is spotty from an accident last time, so she's not as popular as before."

Tim nods slowly, staring at the other two names. "Who's Moonknight and Aquastar?"

"Moonknight is making her debut tonight, but her test run streaks were pretty bad because she doesn't have as big of a team as the rest of them." The man waves his hand. "You don't need to bet on her, pretty girl." He grins toothily. "Oh, and Aquastar is a visiting racer from a nearby city. We usually have more racers, but Cardinal got suspended for going off the race tracks and breaking into Gotham two weeks ago."

Now that he thinks about it, all of the names were practically knockoffs of the vigilantes and heroes who protected the cities. Although, he's surprised the street racing had ended up this big without any of the bats shutting it down. Someone must have a hand somewhere. He just wonders if it's Hood or B. It could be neither for all he knows.

"How does one race?" Tim blinks at one car in particular. It looks too much like a batmobile for comfort.

"You'd have to talk to the racers for that."

"Ey, Chris, are you hitting on newbies again?" A woman walks up the stairs, shoving him to the side playfully, tilting her head at Tim.

"Oh, come on, Spitty. You know I only do that so I can collect profits when you win."

"Arguably," She tilts her head at Tim, pausing. "You should bet on Moonknight."

"A-ah?"

"If she wins," Spitfire smiles, "then you collect all the profits. It's only a twenty, after all."

Tim frowns.

"But there's also a tradition for newbies to bet on newbies." She laughs. "You never know. That girl's got more speed in her than Cardinal. She just refuses to tell people."

"What's the cash prize?" Tim raises a brow.

"Driver gets ten percent of the bet money on top of the two million that WE pours into the track." She pauses.

"WE pours money into this?"

"We're not sure why, but they have been for a while now. The whole race track was from them." Spitfire sighs. "It's an old story, so it's not that surprising anymore."

Tim glances at the car again, pausing. Ah. This was where Bruce tested out his batmobile by using other people. No wonder he didn't push anyone to check the driving out. If Bruce was testing out all of his vehicles here, then there was no way he'd want it to be shut down. It would explain why he handed him an access card without having him get one. Tim glances around to look for seating, and Spitfire notices.

"You wanna sit in the grandstands?" She smiles. "My treat."

"Really?" Tim puts the money into Moonknight's box. The woman was right. It's only a twenty. Worst case, he loses the money. Though, he wonders what kind of a racer would have a leading champion telling him to vote for her. "Oh, is there a reason all the racers are girl?"

"We tried co-ed racing for a while." Spitfire holds her hand out for Tim, and he takes it. "But the men would get too aggressive and lead to unnecessary accidents on the track. Our goal is to test out cars for our sponsors before they're taken onto the field."

"Is that why there's a pass to get in?"

"Yeah." She hums, pulling the door open. "Come on in."

"Spitfire, favoring a newbie?!"

"Spitfire, who do you think is going to win!"

The woman turns her head, smile on her lips. "Me, obviously."

But it proves wrong when Tim meets eyes with the same woman from the first time.

You stare into his eyes, white racing suit snug on your body, a look in your eyes he recognizes. Though, the longer you look at him, the more you seem to read him— as if his entire past were exposed in front of you at a table. There is a sort of darkness to both your eyes and hair, the stare of a thousand souls. He breaks eye contact first, waving goodbye to Spitfire as she hops back to her position, final checkups of the cars in progress as Chris asks him if he wants a drink. Tim waves him down, but he mentions a can of Zesti would be fine. Chris barely makes it back in time for the announcements.

Tim catalogs the majority of the announcements in, checking for their voice on his phone, blinking when he finds a lack of match for it. He'd ask Chris, but the man is practically leaning over on the stand, eyes glittering as the cars prepare to race. He stands up, cracking open his soda, blinking when the four racers seem to fly off, and his eyes glance at the big screen, camera flying after the cars.

Moonknight goes from second to third, and Spitfire goes from third to first. He doesn't have much faith in his twenty bucks, but he wonders if the batmobile would really be helpful in a race like this. It didn't—

Moonknight goes from third to first at the final moment, boosting past Spitfire and racing to first place as she makes it into the second lap. Tim pauses while recalling the batmobile, and he remembers the change he had made just a week ago on the car, letting it accelerate faster than the other cars. Seeing his own creation in action hits something in him, blinking as she swerves.

"Oh, I might actually lose my money today." Chris laughs. "I didn't think she'd be able to do it."

"Who is Moonknight?"

"She's a completely new racer. She's called Moonknight because he sponsor gave her a car that looks eerily like a batmobile every time. Though, her car is in light grey." Chris points. "I'll hand you the pamphlet later."

"Thank you." Tim mumbles, watching as Spitfire races neck to neck with Moonknight. Tim wonders if it's going to be a tie. Though, he did add something else to the car. Maybe Bruce told you, maybe not. If she manages to find it, she could win. Though, he's more curious to know if rocket boosters were technically allowed in a race like this. Who knows.

You grimace in the car, pressing a couple of buttons as your fingers brush over something new. You wonder if it's the self-destruction button that Batman had told you not to touch. Yet, you shrug it off, clicking it anyway, slamming back into your seat as you speed past Spitfire, breaking past the finish line, steering with one hand as you try and stop the rockets on your car, clicking on the screen, grimacing. You'd rather not call Oracle. Last time you did, she tried pulling your social security number on you, only to find a lack of one.

Your heart races in your chest as you press the button again, the rockets only growing stronger, and you groan as you type in a code you had memorized from the Batcave, successfully shutting down the systems on the car, turning it back into a regular vehicle. You don't know who invented that line of code, but god were you thankful that you memorized it. The car eventually slows, and you drift next to the other racers, parking successfully. You step out of the car, leaning on the door as it closes, the blood in your body flushing your skin.

"Moon, are you alright?" Spitfire rushes next to you, hand on your bicep.

"I'm fine." You pull the helmet from your head, meeting eyes with Tim's again. You raise a brow, and you lower your voice to Spitfire. "That girl isn't a girl."

"Drag maybe?"

"No." You mumble, turning to shield your mouth from his eyes. "Undercover cop. Either that or they're a vigilante. They used Batman's card to get in."

"Ah." She frowns. "Are we safe?"

"I'll deal with it if he throws a fit." You stretch your neck, placing your helmet onto the top of your car. "Gotta submit a report later."

"I'm not looking forward to that." Lightwing groans. "Our next race is supposed to be motorbikes."

"Ewwww." Spitfire shudders. "I hate racing those."

"I hope they don't have rocket boosters like on my car today." You shudder.

"Alright, go get your cash prize, girlie." Spitfire smacks your back to send you walking to the podium.

You step over to the makeshift stage, taking the cheque from the announcer, blowing a kiss at the phones as you stare at the blank cheque. Two million was the max, but you were told you'd get to cash out five if you could win the race. You pause, though, when the girl you were staring at earlier makes her way out of the stands and walks over. Spitfire tries stopping her, but she seems to say something that has her quiet as she steps up the podium to meet you. You tilt your head at her.

Tim opens his mouth to speak before you cut him off.

"You know." You pause to wave the announcer off, hooking your arms under her knees to rest your chin on her chest. "You're real hot as a woman, but I'm sure you'd look better as a man."

Tim flushes as you press a kiss to the crown of his head, and you set him on the podium, lips pulled into a pretty smile. Your voice lowers as you rest your chin in the valley of his tits, blinking up at him. You jut out your bottom lip as Tim swallows thickly. Your fingers lace into his hair, nails digging into his scalp gently, blinking slowly, reading his emotions, his expressions, his everything. You look entranced, and Tim almost feels bad that he's here undercover and you're staring starry-eyed over someone who doesn't exist.

"What's your name, pretty girl?" You raise a brow at her, grinning.

"Caroline." He swallows again, heart racing in his chest. You're too attractive for your own good. Maybe you were using that against him. "Caroline Hill."

"Well, Carrie," You hum, tucking his hair behind his ear. "I think you're gorgeous. Care for a drink sometime?"

"A-as much as I would like to, I'm not into w-women." He stumbles. (A bold lie. He's never had a worse panic over a woman in his life.)

"Quite a shame." You mumble. "You're so pretty too..."

You step down the stage, holding the cheque up as the girls cheer with you.

Tim should really talk to Bruce about what the batmobile was doing in a street racing event.

Though, as Tim tries to run a background check on you, he finds nothing come up. Even in the private files of the batcomputer. Even on the card that gave him access, all the fingerprints were wiped clean. He finds practically nothing, not that it gets to him, he just looks harder. He practically lives in the cave now. He doesn't remember the last day he got regular sleep. He has nothing on you.

So, he shows up at the next race as himself this time. He enters with the same card, and this time, you find him first.

"So? You related to B?" You hand him a can of unopened zesti, and he raises a brow at you. You raise a brow back at him, pointing at his card. "Card. That's a B exclusive card."

"How so?"

"Sponsor card." You smile. "Since it's light grey, that means it's my sponsor. My sponsor is B."

Tim frowns. "Who are you?"

"My question first."

"He's an aquaintance. Now my question." He opens his can, pressing the drink to his lips.

"I'm a racer." You smile.

"I meant as a person." He clicks his tongue.

"Why don't you find out?" You bat your lashes at him prettily, hand pressed to his abdomen, leaning in to blink at him devilishly. "Or are you not into women too?"

Tim's heart races in his ears, swallowing as he tries his best to match your pace. "What does the media say?"

"Lots" You grin, pressing yourself closer to him, arms wrapped around his neck, your air mixed with his, lips pulled into a dangerous smirk. "But all I hear these days is how someone keeps trying to hack my personal information."

"Yeah?" He tilts his head, placing the can to the side.

"Mhm." You hum.

Tim smiles at you, dangerously, all while his mind is a jumbled mess. You had an effect on him that he dared not to pry further into, but god were you intoxicating — bad for his brain even. He finds himself leaning closer to you, all systems going off about how this was bad for him, but he doesn't care. Not when your perfume smells tantalizing and the only thing he wants to do is kiss you sick— make out with you until you're whimpering against his lips, knees giving out under you, and brain fuzzy with only him. His eyes darken with the thoughts, a smile on his face.

You remove your arms from him, tapping his shoulder twice with an innocent smile. "Thanks for giving me the last piece."

Tim raises a brow as you peel yourself from him, his mask in your fingers, smile not so pure anymore.

There was no way.

Tim grabs it back from you as you back up, both hands in the air, and as he shoves it into somewhere you can't touch, you hop over the stands, landing on the dirt with a thud. Tim frowns in frustration as you send a wink his way, starting final check-ups for the race. It's bikes today, and Tim recognizes all of the models. A copy of his own bike is in Spitfire's hand right now. Maybe this was how Bruce figured out whether or not his bike was safe to ride after his own customizations. Jason's bike is in another rider's hands, red helmet with black— presumably Cardinal, and Dick's bike is in Lightwing's hands. You have Bruce's bike still. It checks out now.

This was the testing ground for the vigilante vehicles in Gotham.

The fact that you had figured him out so quickly only meant that you had realized faster than everyone else.

But there had to be a reason that no one part of the team saw the similarities between their vehicles and the ones that the Gotham vigilantes used. There had to be a reason that only you would be crazy enough to figure it out just based on vehicle models. Maybe he could use the status card to talk to you all for a little. Too bad you were already checking the vehicle. He should have asked earlier— strange. It's not like him to be this disoriented.

You win the race.

It's obvious. B's bike was designed with the fastest engine possible, and in a race of pure speed, it would win. No matter how much Tim tinkered with his bike, he wasn't allowed to go faster than Bruce. The man had said it was too dangerous, and Tim could see why. The Batbike was a nightmare to steer at such high speeds. Though, he does wonder where everyone on the track gets their practice. There's never a peak of sound during the day on the track, and neither was there much noise at night when you weren't racing.

Tim does not dig the idea that he has to pull his money card out, but the more competitive part of him does wonder what it would look like to have you fold for him.

"A drink?" He leans over the railing, card held up, raising a brow at you.

You wave him off, handing your helmet to someone else, clicking your tongue.

"That's not the way to ask a pretty woman out on a date, boy." You raise a brow, lips pulled upwards in a grin. "Maybe ask better next time. Some of us have black cards too."

So Tim watches as you leave with the rest of the racers, his heart racing in his chest.

It takes ten more tries for Tim to trace from someone else to you.

He blinks at the woman on the screen, and he pauses to ponder. Perhaps.

However, all of his thoughts are thrown off when a command is called from behind him by Bruce with a new case. A file is handed to him, a file with a rather unoriginal name, and it makes Tim raise a brow. Surely it was a jest.

"I assure you, they are very much real." Bruce rolls his eyes, cowl peeled off, humming with a drink pressed to his lips.

"Is this related to the serial murder of rapists going around in Gotham?" He opens the file.

"Not just Gotham." Bruce hums. "Clark did a report on the serial murder of both registered and unregistered sex offenders in Metropolis as well. It has been a trend. Despite the vigilantism, it is still very much illegal to kill someone."

"I don't see too much of a problem with killing a rapist." Tim presses his coffee to his lips, scanning through the files Bruce hands him. The target seems rather clear. The killer does not regard anyone in the way, knocking everyone out and always only killing the rapist. A maneater. The name given to the murderer was maneater, as if it were some ploy. In some cases, the victims were found with their pants unzipped and an anti-rape condom stuck on them, writhing in pain as they were almost always found dead with poison in their system.

Those who suffered more gruesome deaths... either found castrated with their genitals lying not too far away, or a hole where their heart was supposed to be, the organ missing. It reminds him almost of Heartless, but... that is not the case. This is a vigilante no different from them... just less sparing and guaranteed murder. Now, does Tim solve the case or let the vigilante free...

He does not know what possesses him to ask you of all people, but your response does not help much.

"Moonknight." Tim hums, adjusting his glasses as he puts them on. "May I pick at your brain?"

"Is this about the serial murders?" You wipe the helmet in your hand, cheque tucked safely into your wallet.

Tim nods. "Thoughts?"

"I feel like the murderer's doing us ladies a favor." You shrug. "Think about it."

"I know, but murder is a little..."

"Little hypocritical of you, you know?" You raise a brow. "Must I name your war crimes?"

"No." Tim hums. "Perhaps I should do some digging anyway."

"Wouldn't hurt to have it on file in case you do need it one day." You eye one of the newer men on the track, grinning at Spitfire as she greets him. "Hm?"

Tim's eyes trail up to Spitfire.

Similar build. His glasses indicate the same.

"It's not any of my girls." You crack open the can of soder. "I promise they're clean. B runs background checks on all of us."

Tim mulls over your words.

Scary.

Yet, he visits you anyway, money piling in his back pocket as you win round after round, small talk rolling off your lips in a sort of practiced way, smile inviting as you turn down his request to grab a drink again, humming quietly as Tim's eyes trail down to the small of your back, brow raised as he notices your shorts peeking out past your pants.

"What does it take for a date with you?"

"Maybe not being part of law enforcement." You hum. "Legal or not."

"Why? Worried I'll turn you in?"

"No..." You trail off, chewing your top lip as you turn your head at Lightwing. "Well, if you save Lightwing from some trouble, I'll consider."

"What's wrong?"

"You see the man talking to her?"

Tim raises a brow and spots another group of men not too far off. "Bingo."

You wink in her direction, and Tim hums.

"Hey big fella. Having fun so far?"

You watch as Tim tears the man apart, Lightwing leaving at one point to stand next to you.

"Really, I don't know what you see in that man."

"Not much." You purse your lips, smiling. "Something tells me he's the one."

"I'm willing to bet that he is not." She mumbles.

Yet, as Tim barely lifts a finger to piss the man off, you grin.

"Oh, he's definitely the one."

Tim runs the information, stalking down the final member of your racing team, matching the majority of information to the final member, brow raised when he realizes that Cardinal was not part of B's files either, hunting the woman down as he searches for her current location, and it makes Tim's stomach churn uncomfortably when he realizes how eerily similar the racer is to the described criminal. The person who was dubbed Cardinal had been face-matched to someone who had entered Metropolis just a little bit before the serial murders. It made Tim nauseous.

"Got any leads?"

"Might be one of the previous racers." Tim grimaces. "Of the race tracks."

"Cardinal? I assure you it is not her."

"Really? There had been rumors—"

"It is not." Bruce mumbles. "You know who Cardinal is. It is not her. They may have similar builds, but it is not her."

"Who is Cardinal?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough."

Bruce's evasion of his question does not help the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

You end up with Tim on the date, hair ruffled as he picks you up in his bike, hand held out to you as you take it, humming. It's supposed to be simple. Though, you suppose simple for a Wayne is impossible to determine. You never know what to expect from him. Though, when he pulls you to the local diner, you find it impossible to not know he's the one. It's really too simple.

"Would you tell me about Cardinal?" Tim finally asks you proper questions once the two of you finish ordering.

"Do you think she's the one?" You raise a brow.

"You said your girls are innocent."

"The ones I currently race with." You hum, reaching for the bread on the table.

"And Cardinal?"

"I don't know much about her. She didn't talk much."

"But she was aggressive, no?"

"No." You hum. "She drove into Gotham because she saw something. She also raced her own bike. No one knows who she is."

Tim connects something in his mind, and it sends him back to step one.

"Would you be able to help if I gave you the file?"

"Isn't it just what's available online?"

"One final thing. The killer in Metropolis might be the same person." Tim mumbles. "Thank you."

The food is presented before the two of you, and you stab into your pasta. "I don't think so. Did you track anyone else that entered and exited Metropolis that was a Gothamite?"

Tim shakes his head. "I find it strange."

"Perhaps magic?"

"Not impossible." Tim mumbles. "What do you do in your free time?"

"Tinker." You hum.

"With your bike?"

"No. That's B's property. I tend to tinker with smaller things. It's always fun to build a PC from scratch."

"Ah, you're quite handy with tech." Tim hums, blowing on his pasta. "Anything else?"

"I like watching detective shows." You pause to think. "And racing. I think that's about it. How 'bout you, boy wonder?"

"That's my brother." He laughs dryly.

Tim finds that it's intriguing to talk to you. You know everything that he does, and it seems you know much more than what you let him in on. Dare he say it, perhaps he's met his match.

Tim sends you home and starts patrol. Gotham had become eerily quiet since the murderer had been on the loose.

Though, he has a knack for saying things too early.

A man dies the same day, and B finds his way there with Tim, the two of them sweeping down and kicking the man down, a woman shaking as Tim shields her, holding his cape out, making sure to not look at the way her clothes are ripped up and she's shaking with an intensity unknown to him. He can feel the vibrations of her skin through his cape. The fear is easily contagious had he not known.

"B?"

"Dead. The poison spread too fast."

The woman doesn't look like she was aware.

"Did you buy the product?" Tim raises a brow, eyes scanning her face for any changes in emotion, and she shakes her head.

"I... a-a friend got me o-one on because—" She gasps, shoulders trembling still. "I-it saved her life."

"Do you know where she bought it?"

The woman shakes her head. "Th-they were giving them out on the streets a while back. It's been m-months."

"May we take one back?"

B shakes his head. "Gordon is coming. We will decide then. Oracle?"

Oracle has no intel either, and Tim wonders just how far this murderer is willing to go. If he just let them kill all the rapists in Gotham, then it would result in a number of the population as gone. If he checked them, perhaps the offenders in Gotham would assume they are protected by B — which truly could not be further from the truth.

"Where are you living? I will take you back." Tim catches a figure in the corner of his eye.

"B."

The man shakes his head.

"I-I'll be fine." She mumbles. "May I borrow a... clothes?"

B nods, and Tim hands the woman to him as he takes a good look at the man on the ground.

Familiar. He looks familiar.

The scan from his mask indicates the same. The man who had been talking to Spitfire at the tracks. It was the man who had been talking to her. Some clicks in the back of Tim's mind, his fingers pressing to the silicone, pressing the dirt and grime to the back of his glove to check for DNA.

Just the shaking woman.

"B, I need one of them." He speaks firmer this time. "There has to be some unidentified DNA on one of them."

"There are in one of the files on our computer. It was sent this afternoon." B hums. "The police are arriving. Come on."

Tim doesn't need to be told twice, yet he lingers, eyes trailing on the woman as he waits.

One of the policemen is an unregistered sex offender.

He clicks on his mask as he zooms in, a dark figure flying out of the alleyway at the man, and Tim watches as a claw digs into the man's genitals, ripping off with a sound that shakes the walls, followed by a guttural scream. The policemen shoot at the figure, but they don't react, only retreating back into the walls, seemingly unhurt by the bullets.

"Oracle, did you catch that?"

"No face was detected."

"How about figure?"

"Non-human." Oracle mumbles. "I can't identify anything."

"Tsk." Tim clicks his tongue.

"Though, it has to be a shadow ability. Perhaps something adjacent to it. They're gone, right?"

Tim hums into the mic. "Affirmative."

Tim ignores the way the shadow shapes weirdly underneath his feet.

"You can come out." He taps the corner of his mask for reinforcements, taking a step back into the moon as the shadow forms, a smile of white forming into a human.

"Can you—"

"Neither. All indications of sex are missing."

"Oh..."

Their voice is nothing short of horrifying to him.

"I caught a bird." It grins, and as Tim takes a step back, he finds that his other foot has a shadow warping around his ankle.

"Who are you?"

"We are the night." It sings. "We are the darkness..."

Tim knows what's next.

"We are... vengeance."

"That's rather cringe, don't ya think?" Tim raises a brow.

A batarang flies from behind him, and the shadows only create a hole for the weapon to fly through. The shadow splits into two people, and Tim smiles.

"Gotcha."

"Ah ah," The one on the left shakes its hand. "We were promised... freedom."

"Only where you belong." Batman shines a flashlight at the creature, and Tim watches as it retreats back into the shadows, his ankle free. "And you. Next time, just shine the flashlight."

"Are they weak?" Tim raises a brow. "Just to light?"

"It stuns." Batman nods.

"Go track the leftovers on your ankle back in the cave."

"Will do." Tim pauses before he goes. "Is it an alien?"

"No. Something worse."

Tim does NOT know what could be worse than an alien. (He lies. He does.)

The DNA tracks too many women to count. One shows up and then the next, and eventually, Tim has at least twenty women pulled up on his screen, all pronounced dead after being found used and discarded. It is horrifying. Tim may not understand just how terrifying it is to be a woman, but as he finds children, he seems to understand just how disgusting this is. Girl after girl, woman after woman, every last one of them were used and discarded bare for the world to see, photographed and made a case study out of — all who met their unfortunate end and their rapists never see the end of their life the same way they did.

It is disgusting, but something else is discovered.

He does not remember if it is something new, but it seems strange. It is not a shadow, but rather a composition of human souls forced to merge into an unrecognizable shape. It is science, not an alien, and Tim understands why it is worse. It is an unfortunate victim and not an alien. It is someone who had been forced to change into something unloveable. He wonders if the souls of the unfortunate make up the shadows.

Ah. If they are shadows...

Tim turns around as the shadows form a human again, shorter than he is, apple of its cheeks soft and gentle. A girl. It is a girl this time; not a woman.

"Are you a victim?"

It does not answer him.

"Tim? Tim, do you hear me? Red!"

"It has not attacked yet." Tim answers. "How many of you are there?"

The child does not respond, holding up one finger, and then two, and three, and eventually there are too many fingers sticking out of the hand that Tim had lost count.

"Many."

"What's the deal?"

"I matched the DNA." Tim swallows. "I won't hurt you, but please—"

The shadow dissolves, and Tim lets out a breath, staring at the faces plastered across the screen of the Batcave.

"Tim?"

"Oracle." His voice goes quiet. "They are all victims of... The computer just keeps going."

Eventually, B returns, staring at the wall of faces Tim left, finding the man in his room, glasses on as he stares at his PC, case file after case file being read, news article after news article. There is more than one soul occupying the shadows, and Tim reads one after the other of how they were murdered. Stabbed, strangled, shot, mangled, burned. None of the souls were able to escape death at the hands of their rapist. It was sickening.

"It is not a human." Tim speaks, staring at Bruce at the door. "We can not arrest it."

"Is it humanoid?"

"No. It is a shadow of vengeance."

"There has to be a way to stop it from collecting more souls."

Tim closes his eyes, brows furrowed as he sighs.

"And if I do not want to?"

"Tim."

"I know." He mumbles, exhaustion written all over his face. "How will we destroy the remaining souls?"

"How many women were identified?"

"There are currently twenty seven." Tim mumbles. "There may be even less if more of the men die."

"The vengeance of a ghost." Bruce mumbles. "Just find a way to stop the addition of souls. Surely, someone is collecting souls and adding them."

Tim finally closes his eyes when the sun starts peeking over the horizon.

"Sorry." Tim shows up to your meetup place, eyebags extra bad, and you raise a brow at him.

"Something up?"

"What would you do if someone was collecting the souls of the victims of rape and kill and turning them into a shadow of some sort to let them have vengeance on their rapist?"

"Wow, what a loaded question." You mumble.

"Thoughts?" Tim closes his eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Feel free to ignore it if not—"

"I mean... it makes sense." You hum. "Is it scientifically immoral? Yes. Is it in some way morally correct? Perhaps. Their lives were taken and their souls haunt the earth because they are still held down by things they could not resolve while they were alive. Perhaps to the living, they are a monster, but to the dead? to the dead, they are a savior."

Tim pauses to think. "Should the person be punished?"

"Under the law? Sure."

"How about according to yourself?"

"No." You mumble. "If I was raped like that, I would love to ruin the life of the man who ruined mine. I heard a police officer got his dick ripped off. Is he still alive?"

"Alive." Tim nods. "Vitals are stable, but he can no longer procreate... obviously."

"Deserved, maybe. I heard he got off with only two months of jail time after the initial trial."

Tim does not answer, pausing to mull over the case.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." You stand up, stretching your legs. "Shall we get something to eat?"

"You have food by here?"

"No, but since you brought your bike, I can take us somewhere."

"It better not be the diner from last time."

It is NOT the diner from last time

Instead, Tim finds himself seated outside of a Batburger place, thanking you as you hand him his order, clear view of the alleyway.

"This place is a little..."

"It's where a lot of drug trades happen." You hum, staring at the alleyway behind him. "Also where a lot of sex trafficking occurs."

"Ah, right." He mumbles. "Red Hood manages that, no?"

"Not as much." You bite into the burger, humming happily. "Sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting."

"I think the burgers and shake could fix me."

You raise a brow.

"As much as it can try, of course."

"Nah, I have those days too." You hum. "Did you find much on the souls?"

"I just wonder if they are decreasing after extracting revenge on their former rapist." Tim mumbles.

"I heard somewhere they started off in the fifties." You hum, continuing with your burger.

"...fifties? Where did you even hear that?"

"Rumor gets around quickest at the racetrack." You mumble. "Cardinal kept closely with the news. Apparently the figure was as large as a human at one point."

"Is twenty souls not enough to form a full grown woman?"

"Perhaps it picks a child for other reasons." You reach for a fry. "Am I being of much help, mister detective?"

"Somewhat." Tim pauses when he hears rustling behind him. "...May I?"

"Careful, they carry stun guns."

Tim nods, leaving you alone, and you click on your phone as you watch Red Robin swing in, kicking and freeing the poor girl, handing her off to the police as you stare at the two men knocked out. Tim had overestimated just one thing.

From behind, a spike of darkness pieces through the men's hearts, killing them on the spot as Tim holds a hand over the eyes of the woman.

Dead. The two men are dead.

The shadow forms behind them, three young women who look no older than the one that Tim is covering the eyes of.

"How many of you are left?"

This time, the shadow forms a 24.

The number is going down.

So, Tim reports the findings to Bruce, changing out of his suit to get back to you, nodding as he sits down and sighs.

"Sorry, stomach died."

"Nah, don't worry about it." You sip on your shake, humming. "Duty calls."

"Are you racing sometime soon?"

"I think B's trying to have us race less lately." You hum. "I won't be racing for some time. The only reason we raced so often a while back was because there were so many upgrades being implemented."

"So you have more free time?"

"Yeah." You hum. "I was thinking of traveling."

"Where to?"

Tim knows something you don't. The gentle taps of your painted nails omit some eerie sense of death, and it seems that no matter how much Tim likes you and feels fine around you, it is impossible to ignore that eerie sense of death. It reminds him of the first time he met you, stare of a thousand souls. Yet, it seems that...

"Staring?"

"You're rather pretty." He hums, pressing his napkin to his cheeks. "Is it not normal to stare a little?"

"Oh, look at you and your smooth words." You hum.

"I mean them." Tim stares at you.

You only give him a weak look.

You don't seem to believe Tim when he says you're everything.

And maybe at some point in time, Tim had realized that your words swayed him harder than they need to. He does not know when he had ended up so deep with his fingers and hands stained with a passion for you, but as it drags him under, he finds that it's fine. Maybe you were just destined for him in some way. If he would be dragged under, then he would simply find a way to clear it out. He enjoys the sensation of drowning in you. Maybe he is just weak for you.

"Do you love me?" You tilt your head, milkshake straw on your lips as Tim sorts through his files.

Tim stares at you, pushing his glasses up. "Why?"

"Curious." You hum. "You've brought me to your place, after all. Isn't this the nice little boat you got with your boyfriend? I remember the media going insane."

"Perhaps." Tim mumbles. "I brought you here to help me with the case, though. I don't think love is the right word for what we feel towards each other right now."

"Mm." You nod slowly, picking up some papers. "The number went down?"

"Yes. The two men who were killed resulted in three less entities in the shadow." Tim mumbles. "I just wonder if the number is going to increase."

"You wouldn't want it to, huh?" You hum.

"Prefferably no." Tim pauses. "Though, I suppose if the entity is acting on its own, then I can not do much to stop it. Someone is letting the souls merge into the shadows."

"If it's just cells, shouldn't it be the act of a human? That must mean they have some sort of way of accessing the victims' bodies."

"That would be the case, but a further search indicated that they were not picking up the cells, but rather just souls. I don't know when we got an upgrade to be able to locate souls, but—"

"It was probably when you tried cloning your best friend." You don't bother letting him finish the sentence.

Your statement freaks Tim out.

"H-how the hell do you know?!"

"B." You puff out your cheeks, continuing with reading the file.

B does NOT have that information open to just anyone to access.

Yet, Tim shuts his mouth, continuing with the file, taking the chance to seal your fingerprint. He runs the match while you continue checking, and he ends up in a dead end again. You do not exist in the database. Your fingerprint is not a real person. Surely there was a chance that you were not quite human either.

"Just how cautious are you?"

"Very." You hum. "My fingerprint won't show up."

"What gives you the boldness to say that?"

"A gamble." You hum. "I race for B. Surely, he would not do something as cruel as that."

"He is consistently paranoid."

"That does not matter." You click your tongue. "He could not hold me down if he tried."

Tim senses that there is a certain level of untruth to your words, but he can not say just what it is.

Three days later, four more men are found dead by the docks. Tim checks them with the police, Oracle's voice in his ear as he observes them. All three have had their hearts pierced through, a gaping hole left behind. Tim looks to the side at the shadows brewing beneath the water, and he observes that the number shown is four less than before.

"These men have to be part of an organization."

"They are." Oracle notes. "Human trafficking. These are the men who are part of a human trafficking specifically for sex workers."

"So... rapists."

"Yes."

"Did we ever get a number on them?"

"No."

Tim nods at the police as they arrive, grappling away.

Maybe he's committing a sin by letting the shadow get away with the murders. It would be impossible to hold them down, but he wonders if he should ever shine a light on them when they kill.

Back at the cave, the young girl emerges again, smiling at Tim as he raises a brow.

"What?"

"Twenty." The voice speaks, much younger this time.

"Are you all children?"

The widening of the smile indicates a yes.

"How old were you?" He holds his hand out for the shadow.

His question goes ignored, the shadow disappearing as B returns to the cave.

"The number of shadows decreased again." Tim stares at B as he undresses.

"How do you know the shadows aren't lying?"

"Here." Tim shows B the newest scan of the souls, and the number has shrunk.

"How did you scan it?"

"I do not know. We hadn't been able to scan based on soul previously."

Bruce clicks on the computer, eyes focusing on the application, taking over as Tim sits to the side. He looks further, digging into the code as he pauses and points at a line.

"Moonknight."

"The racer?"

Bruce reads the code, and Tim follows, pausing.

"She's a computer system?"

"No, but you probably scanned some system in when you ran her through the system the first time."

"Just what is she?"

"I don't ask questions, and neither does she. Just a worker."

"Alright." Tim mumbles. But the issue was you do ask questions. You ask plenty of questions and each one brings you closer than the last. He had already lost his identity to you because of your charm. Perhaps Bruce was not far off. Though, if Tim could not find you, then Bruce probably could not either.

The next time he meets up with you, you finally let him into your apartment.

"Oh, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you love me." Tim hums. "What brings you to invite me here?"

"No, I didn't feel like going out today." You shut the door behind him. "Pizza's on the counter."

"Where are the others?"

"Racing." You hum.

"I thought you said there weren't any races?"

Tim finds that you're a liar.

Somewhere down in the place he's been pulled to, he finds that there is endless amounts of darkness, something brooding behind your soul as you talk to him, smile on your face. You called him the one, but if you were the one, he wouldn't feel so turbulent. Shaking waters. The water he's been pulled under is unmoving and serene, only in the middle of the sea, making the peace eerie rather than soothing. Rather than the liquid moving, he finds that he's spinning further and further down.

"I'm not racing for the time being." You hum. "The others are racing with their own bikes."

"Do you not own one?"

You shake your head. "I prefer other forms of transportation."

Tim raises a brow but doesn't question it.

Even when the two of you are tangled under your sheets and he listens to your heartbeat, the sense of uneasiness doesn't leave. You are too perfect. Even if you were to drag him down with you, he would only know how to hold onto you and not swim. Maybe this is his end. Unless you free him, he fears he will be stuck with you forever. Drawn to the beating of your heart, Tim is stuck being in love with you for the rest of his life. If you would drag him into the depths of your world and ruin his life, then so be it. As long as neither of you cross the line, neither of you would be hurt.

"Would you like to race?"

You raise a brow at Tim.

"Once in a lifetime." He offers.

"On the track?"

"We can race during the day." He hums.

"Not a day person."

"Then at sunrise."

You pause to think about it.

"If that's what you want."

"You make it sound like it's something I want to do." Tim whispers, chin resting on your chest as it rises and falls.

"Is it not?" You run your fingers through his hair, vibrations of your voice making him purr.

When Tim wakes in the morning, Oracle sends him a news article. Ten men found dead at the docks. Ten men were killed, and Tim can only wonder how many of the shadows found peace from their deaths. Though, as your fingers scratch at his scalp again, he could worry about it later. He'd rather not stir up deep waters.

"Ten died?"

"Mhm." Tim closes his eyes, mumbling. "Ten men."

"From the same organization?"

Tim is too tired to consider how you would know all the men are from the same organization when it has not been disclosed to the public.

"You seem to know much more than you let on."

"Of course I do." You hum. "But I won't race you until you find out."

"Then give me a month." He mumbles, eyes closing as he drifts back to sleep. You're warm, and for the first time in a while, he gets some rest.

The next race Tim goes to, he notices Spitfire and Lightwing are missing.

You tilt your head at Tim from the track, waving as he waves back, lips curled upwards in a gentle smile.

He refuses to meet the truth.

There is some sense of security that lies in playing stupid, eyes closed and fingers reaching out into a void of nothingness, knowing that as long as he did not know, he would be safe. Yet, there is always the nagging in the back of his mind, uncertain about his future, uncertain about what would happen if he continued to play dumb. He knows he'll get called out for it by Steph soon, but it really... he was only a fool in love. He can not do something so terrible to his heart.

Even as you bring back the trophy and greet Tim with a thrashing kiss against his lips, breath hot against his as he tries to ignore the truth of the world beneath his feet embedded into the shadows, he knows that he can only play stupid for so long. Soon, this racetrack will become empty, and one day, you too will leave him for the world that he refuses to uncover for his own safety. He loves you, but he can only do so much when he's young and stupid.

"Can I take you back to mine?" Tim whispers, eyes begging quietly as you lick your lips, helmet in your hand as you confirm with a kiss.

The gentle rocking of Tim's place is peaceful in the Gotham waters, port comfortable as he pushes back all of his knowledge. It is a curse to be wise, yet Tim finds that there is nothing he can do when he just refuses to. He would choose you even if it meant laying what he had known before down. It pains him to know that he should not, and you would not let him, but he is foolish and young, eyes gentle as he drinks up the way you lay beneath him, the moon coating you in a lovely white as he furrows his brows to forget about it all.

Your skin is soft against Tim's hands, plush of your waist filling the spaces between his fingers as you stretch your arms above your head, eyes half-lidded as he pleases you — himself. It makes no difference. Turbulent waters have long become the place where he finds his rest, eyes half-lidded as he listens to the way you breathe, both beneath him and in the dead of the night. Life becomes slightly more bearable with you around, exhaustion no longer as suffocating as he's used to. Perhaps he loves you or such. Perhaps he does not. Most certainly, he knows he cares.

In the afterglow of sweat and skin, Tim finds that you are no different from him.

"How many of them are left?"

Tim stares outside the window, recalling the last murder in Gotham.

"They're almost gone."

"That's good."

You close your eyes, lashes brushing Tim's neck as you rest your neck over his arm.

"When will we race?"

"I told you. When you find out."

"Find what, exactly?"

You do not answer, closing your eyes and succumbing to exhaustion instead.

Ultimately, Tim knows.

He knows what he's to look for, and he knows just what you might be. It scares him that you might have lied to him for so long, the shadows and souls lurking beneath the surface of the water finally snaking around his ankle and pulling. The big screen in the Batcave is of no help either, only a single person with an obscured soul, and Tim knows deep down that it is yours. You are a victim of the same organization, an amalgamation of vengeful souls all combined together for the sole purpose of seeking vengeance.

Tim stares at the shadow forming behind him, digits dropping by the day as he reports to Bruce about just what was happening in Gotham. The moral code to prevent murder is strong, but the understanding that a few lives of a few criminals for the cost of a safer Gotham was not a world-ending trade-off. Tim understands that much, at the very least. He knows Bruce does too. In a world where neither of them have to work against human trafficking as hard as previously, Tim finds that the waters are both comforting and vicious. He can not be touched in the warmth of your skin, but others will die from the toxin that he is immune to.

So, as Tim crosses off the final ones in the list of souls, he texts to let you know that the organization has been wiped, asking you which sunrise would work best for you.

You refuse to pick a time during the day because you are afraid of being burnt.

You do not exist in the database because you are not quite human.

You exist because you are someone's hatred and memories, manifesting in the form of the shadows and risking a life you do not have in order to see what is worth living for, vehicles meaning nothing to you as you speed through the racetrack at night, only Aquastar left next to you as she too disappears into the shadows after all the guests leave. There are barely any guests now that Tim looks. Perhaps more than half of them had been tired souls, begging for some sort of help, seeking refuge in the way you would risk your life for some sort of power above the law.

You are home to the souls, regardless of whether they are alive or dead. If someone seeks death, they reach for your arms, holding their hands around your shoulders as you stare past their skin, into the depths of the darkness beyond — something Tim is terrified of touching, Yet, with the feeling of your skin memorized between his fingers, he knows why people go to you to look for something.

You are so living yet so dead.

There is comfort only you can provide.

You meet Tim at the racetrack, sitting on your bike as Tim drives in past the gates. The darkness in your soul has grown lighter. Something has changed from when he first met you. You are still so lovely in his eyes, yet it seems that you can not be together in a case like this. It is a shame. At least he gets to race you, popping off his helmet as he notices how empty the stands are compared to when you used to race. The end of your need in Gotham has arrived, and the end of your services to WE has ended as well. There will be no more of you one day in the future, and Tim knows that one day, he too will be cursed to forget everything about you.

The people are gone.

The racers are gone.

And perhaps after this race, you will be too.

You enable the speaker, fingers clicking on the screen at the podium, giving the two of you a twenty-minute warmup.

Tim wonders just how fast he can go. He watches you from the side as you warm up your bike and drive, speeding around the track with practice that can only come from muscle memory. Yet, he drives around the track and gradually speeds up, trying to get a hand on how to race around. Tim finds that he's a little rusty, making several more rounds around the track as you sit on the side, clicking on your phone and scrolling through. Tim does not know how to bring it up.

"What does the winner get?" You look up from your phone, hopping on your bike as you wait for the countdown.

"Whatever the winner wishes."

"That's quite the bet." You hum, staring up at the light as Tim gets ready.

"Of course."

You start your bike, speeding past Tim as the light shows green, Tim tight behind you as he catches up to you. You wonder and think, leaning to the side as the bike follows, letting Tim pass you as you trail behind him. Tim finishes the first lap relatively quickly, and he realizes that you've fallen back a significant amount. He's unsure whether or not to speed up, but as he finishes his second lap, he finds that you're still far behind.

You cut him from the left, successfully stopping Tim from hitting a wall.

Tim speeds up to chase after you, wondering when you had the time to cut him off.

Yet, the end is evident, your bike parked at the end after your third lap, a grin on your face as he stares at you.

The souls are gone, and you look so, so lonely.

The lights shut as the two of you sit by the podium, tablet in your hand as you kick your legs, and you finally speak up.

"I know you found out."

Tim grimaces. "...why?"

You stare at Tim, peeling back your jacket, throwing it at him as he stares at you, watching as your eyes turn pitch black, shadows forming underneath your skin and turning the entire podium dark, some sort of ancient power creeping up your hands to your forearms, darkness evident in every blink at him, lips curled up into an apologetic smile, and Tim feels the water surrounding him drain all at once. If he would not leave you, then you would leave him. You would force him out of the comfort of your waters, knowing that it would drown him one day.

"The shadow moves with you." Tim stares at you, swallowing thickly. "There is only one victim left. We both know who it is."

You stare at Tim, lips curling upwards as he remembers why your smile started looking so familiar at one point.

"You are the last." Tim picks his words carefully. "Are you a shadow?"

"No. Just a medium. I am very much alive." You smile.

"Who are you waiting to kill?"

"No one." You hum. "I am alive because I must hold onto the shadows for the next ones seeking vengeance."

"You are the source."

You ignore him.

"Are you human?"

You blink at him again, ignoring him once more. "Luckily, it seems the victims have lessened lately."

"Why had there been so many at once?"

"There was an organization." You rock on your heels, lips curled upwards. "Everyone in the organization has been wiped. No fret. They alone resulted in over fifty deaths of women after they reached the age threshold."

"The youngest was ten."

"Yes."

"And the oldest?"

"Most of them were killed once they turned 21." You hum. "Occasionally, if someone looked young enough, they would be killed later, but the majority of them were killed at 21."

"How many souls were there initially?"

"Well over a thousand." You hum.

"And only you are left."

"Yes."

"Why play savior?"

"Why not?" You grin. "I have done nothing but host the poor souls. That does not warrant for my arrest."

Tim knows there is an argument against it, but he does not think too hard.

"Next time a soul finds you, notify me. Send me an invite to your race."

"You know, Tim." You hum. "B no longer needs me."

Ah.

"Will you be gone?"

"Very much so."

"To where?"

You do not tell him.

"Write to me." He speaks again.

You shake your head.

"I can not."

"Why not?"

"Send me some flowers when you see me on the news. That is my wish."

Tim tries to not think too much about your final words to him. You left the next morning, morphed shadows in the city leaving with you, and Tim finds that soon, almost everyone forgets you had ever existed. You had come and gone, shadow of death leaving with you, but he finds that occasionally on the news, he hears word about a new racer, gender unidentifiable, face consistently hidden, only known by their speed. You have become a criminal under the law, racing between the crevices of cities, fake trophy after fake trophy taken home, death following wherever you went, sex trafficking decreasing whenever you rested at night.

Tim tries not to follow you all that much, but when you show up on camera on accident, your home is raided and you are killed on sight by the same men who had killed so many others.

It hurts Tim in the head, eyes closed as he tries his best to not think too much about your death and how you had known all this time, but it would forever haunt him. He still remembers the way the waves would rock gently underneath the moonlight when he was engulfed by you, eyes always tired but comfort always found, knowing that you would be his rest when he needed it. So, for him to see you dead on the news, he finds that perhaps he was just cursed to not be able to hold onto you — that he was destined to be stuck in place and watch as you died because you had made a minor mistake. A mistake that would not have cost his life, but cost yours instead.

Yet, he honors your promise, white chrysanthemums placed at your grave as he holds onto the umbrella, humming quietly. The rain splatters gently against the plastic, quiet drumming calming him as he stares at the carving on the grave. The media had reported this was your place of burial, though Tim did not know if it really was you. He could have only assumed off of the information given, matching your age slightly, and he wonders if there is some sort of universe out there where he would be able to just stay with you.

"Here to see her too?" A masked woman steps next to Tim.

"Yes. I promised I would send flowers once she showed up on the news."

"How lovely of you." The woman hums, placing down a blue lotus.

"Did... you know her?"

"I knew her quite well."

Tim stares down at his flowers, finally looking up at the woman.

"It's such a shame, huh? That she would die to the very organization that she had been working to take care of."

"Well, perhaps she had just understood what it meant to live when she died." You turn to Tim, pulling down your mask as you wait for it to register in his head. "What do you think, Ca—"

You don't get to finish your words before Tim wraps his arms around you with closed eyes.

"I love you too, boy wonder."

#good morning tim drake tag did you miss me? no? GOOD.#tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #timothy drake x reader #tim x reader #☾.fics #☾.suggestive #contemplated not posting this but like. 10k words r NOT about to go to waste when my queue is empty

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skyloftian-nutcase · 25 days

Text

Breath of the Sky Ch 14 (SS meets BotW)

Summary: When Princess Zelda goes to the Spring of Courage to pray, accompanied by her appointed knight, a giant magical cog spitting out a goddess is the last thing she expects, but it is what she gets. Meanwhile, the Spirit Maiden Zelda is trying to figure out what the heck is happening and where her missing chosen hero is.

AO3 link

Chapter 14: A Set Path

The sunlight was being hidden away by the clouds, reminding him strikingly of his days on the Surface a few months ago. It was still warm, almost too warm, but he shivered nonetheless.

Link and Zelda had been given some privacy as they’d walked away from the picnic site, instead standing on a hill overlooking a good portion of the field. In the distance there were many structures, some stone and some wood, some with people and some with strange animals.

“I didn’t think we’d be stuck doing this again,” Link finally commented, feeling Zelda’s fingers interlace with his own.

Zelda sighed solemnly, staring out at the vastness of the land alongside him. “I… didn’t either.”

There was no going home at this point. They both knew it.

“You sure this wasn’t part of your plan?” he asked, glancing at her. Given his earlier accusation, he felt like dirt even asking, but he had to at least have something to cling to.

“I wish it was,” Zelda muttered bitterly. “At least then I’d know what to do.”

Link felt… hopelessly lost. The words of assurance from the captain echoed in his mind, but what good were those assurances when Hylia’s own plan fell through?

Well. It wasn’t like Hylia had been perfect, he thought with maybe a touch too much resentment. He squeezed Zelda’s hand all the more, trying to push that out of his mind. As much as he tried to separate the two, there was no separating them. As much as Zelda insisted she was still the person he knew, that didn’t change the fact that her past was intermingled with something far beyond his comprehension.

That didn’t mean she still hadn’t used him.

What difference does that make? It was for a good reason.

A reason which had failed. But he knew that was his own doing, not Hylia’s.

Link’s gaze drifted back towards the stone pillars, towards the area in the center of the field where the other two sat. His successor and his descendant. The pair were eating quietly, one more eagerly than the other, but both seemed to occasionally remember Link and Zelda were there and would glance in their direction.

He supposed there was no avoiding them now. Not that he minded being near Zellie all that much, but goddesses above sometimes it was just too much hearing about all of it. As for his successor…

“Link, I…” Zelda started to say, her words lost in the wind for a moment. Link looked back at her, heart clenching at the torn look on her face. “I’m sorry. For all of this.”

“Don’t apologize,” he immediately replied. “This isn’t your fault, it’s mine.”

“But it all started with me,” Zelda noted quietly. “It all started with Hylia.”

Link bit his lip. He’d be a hypocrite to argue against her at this point, at least after all he’d said earlier. Goddesses he wished he’d kept silent. He tried a different tactic. “Whoever started it, I’m the one who—”

“Oh, just stop,” Zelda cut in tiredly, releasing his hand and hugging herself. “Please, just—I just—”

“I just wish it wasn’t like this,” Link finished for her, slowly wrapping his arms around her and letting her melt into the reassuring embrace.

They were in the future. The future. They were beholding the fruits of their efforts. Why couldn’t this just be a happy occasion? At least for Zelda – for Link it would’ve been beyond his comprehension, really, overwhelming and amazing and wild and wonderful, but… anything would’ve been better than this sinking realization.

It’s over. It’s finally over.

Zelda’s words, mixed with tears and choking on relief and joy, echoed in his mind. They’d thought it was over.

“What are we going to do?” he asked her.

Zelda shuddered in his hold, burying her face in his chest. “I don’t know. They… they don’t even know if the Triforce still exists.”

Link blanched, pulling away. “What? That was the entire crux of our plan!”

“I know,” Zelda cried. “I know! I don’t understand how—what—they said something about beasts, about those guardian things and the sword—”

“Fi? How’s Fi going to fix this?” Link asked. “Can she—is she even awake? Can she talk?”

He didn’t think she could, honestly – not based on her reaction when he’d held her at the festival. She’d sung, yes, but he should’ve heard her voice. Fi had said she’d go into an eternal slumber for the sole purpose of keeping Demise sealed away.

Maybe that was where they could start, then. Maybe something had happened to Fi.

“We need to talk to them,” Link said firmly, looking back at the pair again. His resolve faltered at the thought of speaking to his successor, as he didn’t really even deserve to, but Zelda’s tears motivated him well enough. If his beloved was floundering, he’d find a solution, because he would never leave her in such a helpless state.

Link’s resolve faded the closer they got to the pair, but it was too late by then. Zellie and the new Hero noticed their approach, watching them. As Link’s steps faltered from shame over his failure, Zelda took the lead, guiding him forward with a gentle hand. When the pair sat across from the other two, the Hero carefully pushed food towards Link.

Everyone stared at each other awkwardly.

“So,” Zelda said, finally taking the lead. “You mentioned guardians and divine beasts would help you fight De—Calamity Ganon. And then… you two would fight him? Right?”

Zellie looked at her Hero and then back at Zelda before nodding.

Link opened his mouth to ask about Fi and then found his voice not cooperating. He looked down, hands balling up his tunic and releasing it in anxious movements.

“And you need help with your powers,” Zelda continued.

The princess visibly wilted, looking down.

Link blinked. “What powers?”

Zellie and the new Hero’s eyes immediately went to him, widened as if he’d spoken some kind of heresy.

“I think she’s supposed to have the magic to seal him away,” Zelda answered hesitantly. “That’s what I’ve gathered, at least?”

The pair switched their horrified gazes to Zelda now. Well… at least Link wasn’t melting under their stares anymore. But why the faces?

“You—you think?” Zellie repeated. “But I—my prayers—”

“Look,” Zelda interrupted. “Let’s get this straight. Whatever prayers you’re saying, or anyone is saying—I’m not hearing them. I’m not—I don’t have that kind of power, to read people’s minds and stuff. And—and whoever you’re praying to, you’re doing it in this era, you know? I’m—we’re from the past.”

“W-well, yes,” Zellie acknowledged a little uncomfortably. But it seemed curiosity got the better of her, her eyes shining. “But—how—what is it like, where you are? Can you sense—I mean, you got here somehow, and—”

“I got here because of Link,” Zelda interrupted before hastily adding, “B-but obviously we were destined to be here, too. I mean—what else are the odds that we learn of the demon king’s survival just as you’re preparing for him? But I—this wasn’t my planning. I don’t know what’s happening. We’re trying to piece it together.”

Link’s gaze drifted towards the Master Sword, and he found himself making eye contact with the Hero wielding it. He quickly looked back at Zellie, who seemed simultaneously worried and fascinated.

“All my life, I’ve… I’ve had to try and teach myself this power,” Zellie said softly, her expression growing despairing, frustrated, before she looked hopefully at Zelda. “If you can… if Your Grace would be so kind as to help me… I…”

“I already promised you I would,” Zelda assured her with a smile. “Knight’s honor.”

Zellie blinked. “Knight’s… honor?”

“Oh. Sorry. Expression,” Zelda chuckled nervously, rubbing her hands together.

“Zelda’s a knight,” Link immediately said. “Not a goddess.”

Well. She was his goddess, but that was beside the point. The point was he knew how much this Your Grace nonsense was bothering her. He’d seen her tolerate it fine with Impa, but that was during her rediscovery of her past. She’d been trying to reconcile it since then, and Farore knew this wasn’t helping.

Zelda sighed at the bemused expressions they were receiving. “I… I am the goddess Hylia reborn. But I… look. I’m just… I was born a human like everyone else. I can barely remember my life as Hylia. I…”

“Why?” the princess asked before catching herself.

Zelda quickly waved off her apology that she was about to splutter. “Because I—Hylia, I mean—was killed. I—Hylia sacrificed herself to seal the calamity away until I could come back to defeat him with Link.”

Here she paused, looking at Link, eyes alight with love, face glowing with pride. Despite his own guilt and shame, Link couldn’t help melting a little at the gaze, smiling at her in return.

“Fascinating,” Zellie whispered.

Zelda and Link lost the girl’s wonder in their own attention to each other before his beloved finally smiled back at the other two. “If we’re going to figure out how to stop the demon king, we’ll need to see everything involved in this plan of yours. And as for your powers… my memories were awakened at the sacred springs. Maybe we could start there?”

It was interesting watching the princess’ reactions to Zelda’s words. She was delighted at first, and ashamed at the end. Clearly, her powers were a point of contention for her.

Link could sympathize. Goddess… he hoped she didn’t feel as he did, but he had a sinking suspicion that was indeed the case. How could she possibly feel such a way? It wasn’t as if her lack of abilities had caused harm yet, right? It couldn’t be any more catastrophic than his own failures – despite the obvious one, he’d also nearly let Zelda die at the hands of Ghirahim. Were it not for Impa in the Earth Temple, all would have been lost due to Link’s ineptitude.

And in the end, what difference did it make?

Link shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Stop. This isn’t helping.

He looked ahead again and saw the knight staring at him. Abruptly, he felt his cheeks flush and he looked down at his uneaten food. He hesitantly pushed it back towards the knight.

The pair stared at each other again before their gaze drifted to the plate. The knight hesitantly took the food back, eating it.

“Well, if you want to see guardians, I can show you some at the castle,” Zellie said eagerly, rising to her feet. “But the divine beasts reside in their champions’ domains. I can arrange for all of us to travel across Hyrule! It will—we can stop at the springs as well, but—you’ll see all that we have built, all we have prepared for the coming calamity.”

Link and Zelda looked at each other, surprised, before looking back at the princess. “There’s… more to Hyrule?”

Zellie practically glowed with pride. “Why yes, of course! Come, we must hurry, I’ll prepare everything!”

Well… at least they had a plan. Link rose at the same time as the knight, and the two nearly bumped shoulders, making Link stumbled towards Zelda. He was pretty certain he’d fumbled enough conversations today, so perhaps he’d save asking about Fi for later. But as the four walked, it was immediately apparent he was stuck lingering with his successor while Zellie babbled excitedly in the front of the group, nearly holding Zelda hostage with her conversation. Link found that he couldn’t help but stare at the blade, aching for its warmth, for Fi’s voice to echo in his mind and heart.

He felt so incredibly alone seeing her on someone else’s back.

Zelda stopped abruptly. “Oh! I almost forgot. We have to have nicknames, or this is going to get way too confusing. We have a few already – Dove, you’ll go by Cloud, and he’ll go by Champion. Now we just need to figure out me and the princess.”

Cloud? Link tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow at his wife, curious where that nickname had come from. He’d accept it, of course… did this have to do with the cloud barrier? Skyloft? Or was it a joke based on that story at the festival?

He felt a smile pull at his lips. As much as he’d shot down the ideas the princess had brought up about his existence, it was beginning to grow on him. He could at least garner some entertainment from the absolute ignorance surrounding his identity. Besides, he’d promised himself he’d buy into it the next time someone brought it up. It was too funny not to.

Helpfully, he added, “The princess said she’s okay with going by Zellie.”

The knight, Champion, stared at the princess a moment, and though his face was placid as ever, Link could sense some kind of underlying question hidden in it.

“I guess that just leaves me,” Zelda muttered thoughtfully.

“Your Grace… wants a nickname?” Zellie questioned.

“Of course I do!” Zelda answered sincerely. “I mean… we’re going to be friends! I don’t want you addressing me like some distant deity and the like. I may be the spirit maiden, but… I want us to be friends. This isn’t… this isn’t my…”

Zelda faltered, stumbling on words and thoughts, and Link watched her reluctantly. He wasn’t exactly eager to back her up in this instance – she’d spent their entire venture discovering her identity as someone else, and she had been struggling to retain her own self as Zelda since then. He wasn’t going to encourage her taking on a new persona, even if it was just a nickname.

“We’ll figure it out,” he finally cut in quietly just to move the conversation away from it.

Zelda sighed, shrugging, and the princess continued to lead them back to the castle. Link kept up this time, though, so as to avoid looking at Fi any longer. It seemed Champion always remained two steps behind his princess, anyway.

Noticing how the Champion lagged behind, Zelda smiled welcomingly and fell back so she could be in step with him, leaving Zellie and Link in the front. As Link looked around, he found other things to focus on. Like how distinctly open and alive this place felt while simultaneously… lacking something. The more he stared at the world around him, the strangely more apparent it became, and he wasn’t sure why he’d only just noticed it now, or what it meant.

This land of Hyrule was beautiful and vast, stunning beyond all comprehension. But the Surface that Link knew was brimming with something else in the air, the very fabric of the life woven through the land was teeming with magic and energy. Here, it simply… wasn’t. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. It felt like something had been lost while so much had been gained, and it suddenly made him pause. Perhaps this was what was lost when there was no trace of the Triforce, no guidance from Fi, with magic steadily draining from this land.

Link felt all the lonelier for it.

“Hero? Um… C-Cloud?”

Cloud? Oh, yes. That was him. Link looked somewhat reluctantly at the princess, waiting for her to continue. They’d talked so easily earlier, but he’d left that conversation rather abruptly. He hoped he hadn’t seemed too rude. Not that his conversation with Zelda had gone any better, though at least…

Wait. Wait. Had those two… had they been there? If that captain had heard his argument…

Oh goddess.

Despite his own feelings on the matter, the princess’ eyes showed only pity. That solidified his dreaded suspicion, though it simultaneously confused him – given how horribly he’d talked to Zelda, he’d expect disgust or disdain, not whatever it was Zellie was currently conveying.

Despite seeming to be practically overflowing with words to say, the princess faltered in her approach. Instead, she looked down at her clasped hands, wringing them nervously. Link wished he could say something instead, wished that he could maybe figure out if she truly did feel like she was failing because of whatever issue she was having with her powers, but… he could hardly hold on to any kind of assurances for himself; there was little way he could find a way to comfort her.

But Link hated to see her like this. He hated to see anyone he cared about hurting. And by the goddesses, he could see Zelda in every feature of this girl, in her blonde hair, in her intelligent eyes, in her love and pride in her people.

And he could see himself. He could see his sensitivity in her, he could see how the responsibility on her shoulders was crushing her just as his journey had crushed him.

Instinctively, Link reached out, letting his hand rest on her shoulder. Zellie jumped a little, startled, and looked back at him as he smiled at her. Perhaps he didn’t have the words to cheer her up at the moment, but he could at least offer support in other ways.

Zellie let out a soft sigh and smiled. “I can’t wait for you to see Hyrule.”

The words settled in Link’s heart, and he smiled in return. Despite his catastrophic failure, this land had not only survived but grown far beyond his ability to even fathom. And that… that had to mean something, didn’t it? If time and time again Demise had tried to destroy the land, and it had still somehow managed to turn into this, then…

Then maybe it wasn’t such a failure, after all.

XXX

The beauty of the castle gardens was terrifyingly diminished with the howls of anguish and anger coming from the royal horticulturalist as Mipha awkwardly sidled away from the newly tainted silent princess flower bed. She had escorted the Hero of Myth to the others before excusing herself, as she was not at all capable or important enough to be near a goddess, and had sought peace near the fountains in the castle grounds. Given the drama unfolding with other royal attendants trying to calm the woman, Mipha decided it was best to patrol the area.

Seeing Hyrule Castle was always an incredible sight, but the longer she lingered here, the more she ached for home. She missed her baby brother Sidon, she missed her father, she missed the flowing rivers and waterfalls, the diving places and beautiful scenery and mountains. Zora’s Domain was a sprawling city in its own right, but it somehow was far more homely than Castle Town, and it was less stifling than the royal halls. Perhaps it was the open architecture of her home, or perhaps it was the looming responsibility that hung heavily in the air here, a constant reminder of an evil that was coming.

It was no wonder Link had grown to be so quiet and stressed. Mipha would too if she were constantly living here.

The Zora princess leaned against a stone wall, hiding in the shade so she could enjoy the cool a little bit. She would be returning to the Domain tomorrow with her entourage, which was a relief. She would miss Link, but… well… duty came first. For all of them.

Her heart a little heavier, she tried to cheer herself up by finding her guards and attendants, when she instead nearly walked into the path of the goddess Hylia herself, and Mipha bit back a startled yelp as she dove for the nearest bush to hide in. She landed highly unceremoniously, feet in the air as she was caught in branches, hissing as twigs rubbed against her scales, though thankfully they could not cut through them. Mipha wiggled helplessly, at least tucking her feet in as best she could, before she heard gravel crunch and footsteps stop in front of her newfound prison.

When silence prevailed, Mipha turned her gaze as best she could, catching sight of familiar boots. She hesitantly whispered, “L-Link?”

Hands rested around her waist, making her heart speed up far more than it really should have (and oh why did that have to be the case, when they used to be able to laugh and play and push each other and fight as children and never was it so strange or awkward or different), and she was gently lifted out of the bush and placed on the ground. Link’s hold stayed on her as he stared at her, face calm but eyes soft, one cheek sucked in like he was trying desperately not to laugh. Mipha’s eyes looked frantically around them, and she was relieved to see that the rest of the party must have moved forward without him.

“O-oh, I’m—that was so incredibly—I’m very sorry, Link,” Mipha stammered, growing ever more frantic the longer the two of them stood so close to each other. Link’s hands slid off her waist at that, and he took a step back. Mipha cleared her throat and also mirrored the move, giving both of them more breathing room. “W-well. I. Yes. Thank you.”

Link watched her for a while longer, all earlier frazzled energy long gone. He was back to the stoic knight he always seemed to be, or at least most of the time. His eyes caught sight of something, and he reached forward to pluck a leaf out of her jewelry on her head.

Mipha felt herself blush in embarrassment at the reminder of her silly maneuver and even sillier predicament, and she ran her fingers across all her jewelry to ensure she was presentable. Trying to push the matter aside, she asked, “D-did… did everything go well with the goddess?”

Her friend nodded.

“Well, that’s good,” Mipha said with a smile. Then she shifted a little, heart growing heavy once more. “Link, I… I’m going to be leaving tomorrow. I… it was truly wonderful to see you again. I hope, perhaps, we can see each other again soon.”

Another nod was the acknowledgement. Mipha bit back a sigh. She understood, truly. But… well…

There was a way for him to ease up a little. But he had to agree to it.

“I was wondering… before I left… if—if, well…” oh goodness, this shouldn’t be so hard to ask! They used to swim together all the time! “I was going to go for a swim in the moat tonight. Would… would you like to join me?”

Link watched her a moment, and Mipha felt like she could melt into a puddle as he deliberated it. But then he nodded again, and her heart fluttered as a genuine smile pulled at her lips. She gave him a place where they could meet up, and he nodded, continuing along the path where the others had gone.

XXX

To say that he felt sure of anything in his life anymore was little more than a joke. Ever since his wife’s death and the prophecy, King Rhoam had felt like his life had spiraled entirely out of control. He had been an outsider to the royals, marrying into the family, purely there for support of his wife as she ruled the kingdom and served as a religious symbol and leader to their people. Yet her untimely death left him in charge, a man who had not been raised for such a rule, a man who had to do everything in his power to be the steady leader the people looked up to him to be, and to somehow raise his daughter to be just as wise and powerful as her mother.

He was failing, of course. As was Zelda. But Rhoam had continued to persevere, and if pushing his daughter to the breaking point was the way to protect her and help her grow, he’d be the subject of her ire. Despite it all, she had to prevail, even if he was failing.

But by the ancient goddesses, he had never in his life felt so utterly useless and lost. The franticness and demands that Her Grace Hylia had spouted during their conversation rang in his mind like a bell. Words of a mystical Triforce, something that was only remembered through symbolism and threadbare stories, made him feel far more incapable than he thought possible. How could he have failed Hyrule so? The prophecy had spoken of the solution to the Calamity being found under the ground, and the ancient Sheikah tech had been discovered buried in the earth. It had seemed heaven-sent solution, alongside the appearance of the Hero. Rhoam had just needed to get Zelda ready and it would have been fine. But what of the Triforce, then? The goddess seemed downright frantic at his lack of knowledge on the matter, and though she had promised to help Zelda, giving him hope, he still felt like he’d failed catastrophically.

He had to figure this out. A trip to the royal library was in order. To his surprise, the king found his daughter there as well. “Zelda?”

His dearest yelped as she whirled around. “Father! I was just doing some research and preparation. Her Grace, the goddess Hylia, and her Sacred Hero will be accompanying me as I show them the Divine Beasts and—”

The Divine Beasts?! What did that have to do with her training? Feeling his cheeks grow hot, the king interrupted, “You should be focusing on your duty, Zelda, not that of the Champions. Do not waste such prestigious guests’ time. I prayed to Her Grace for your sake.”

Zelda stiffened. “Y-yes, I—I know, Father, I just—they wanted to see them too.”

Oh. Well, then. The king found himself incapable of backtracking after snapping at her, and he felt all the worse for it. “When will you leave?”

“The sooner the better,” his daughter answered, regaining some of her excitement, though it was far more muted. Rhoam truly prayed that Hylia could help his child – the sooner she could discover her powers, the sooner she could be safe, the kingdom could be safe, and maybe… maybe he could attempt to rebuild his relationship with her. “I was thinking tomorrow, perhaps? But I wanted to plan the trip a little first.”

Rhoam agreed that the sooner his daughter could embark on her training the better, but he also felt his heart beat a little faster at the thought of such a quick departure. It wasn’t just his daughter with her appointed knight, a pair who could travel fairly indiscriminately and not attract too much attention outside of towns and villages. The two were safe together. But to include the goddess and her Hero… it felt nearly inappropriate to rush such a journey with them involved. Perhaps he should get the captain of the royal guard and arrange for some kind of escort?

The king left his daughter in peace to prepare, catching movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked there was no one there. Filling with anxious energy, he set out to summon the captain and then he could return to his own studies. Perhaps he should save researching about the Triforce for tomorrow… but no. He had to focus on his own duties as much as he pushed Zelda to focus on hers.

The captain of the royal guard came promptly when called for, and he knelt immediately upon entering the sanctum.

“Rise,” Rhoam ordered. “My daughter will be setting out with her knight tomorrow, and Her Grace, the Goddess Hylia, will be accompanying them alongside the Hero of Myth. I want to ensure their security is of paramount importance.”

Captain Abel watched the king a moment, stoic demeanor the spitting image of his son. The boy had come from a fine lineage of knights, and his father was no different. The captain was reliable, and Rhoam waited patiently as the man thought through the process.

“Your Majesty,” he started. “With all due respect, Princess Zelda and Her Grace Hylia are protected by the best Hylian knight in the land and the Hero of Myth and Legend, a warrior created by the goddess for the sole purpose of defeating Ganon. It would be a misuse of resources to send the royal guard, or even a battalion of knights, to go with them. We must stay here and protect you and the royal scientists, as well as their important work on the guardians.”

Ah, and this was where father differed from son. Link was a silent knight, obeying every command given to him. While his father’s loyalty was unquestionable, the man did what he believed was best for Hyrule, and though he would also inevitably follow any command ordered of him, he might offer a rebuttal first. Rhoam appreciated it, as his advice was usually sound.

Such as now. But the king couldn’t help but worry. “Surely we can afford to send at least a few knights, Captain.”

“I will do as Your Majesty commands if you wish it so,” the captain answered with a bow. “Where will they be going?”

“They will be visiting the Divine Beasts, as well as the sacred springs,” Rhoam replied.

Captain Abel remained quiet a moment, considering, and then suggested, “Perhaps we could request the Champions to accompany them? I can think of no finer protection.”

Ah, yes, of course! Although Rhoam had little authority to command certain Champions to act as guards for his daughter, they would be obliged to accompany Hylia, particularly if going to their own domains. Rhoam smiled at the captain. “That is a perfect idea, Captain. Please, summon the Champions to the sanctum. I will make my request to them.”

The royal knight bowed deeply before exiting the sanctum, leaving Rhoam to his thoughts. With the added protection of the Champions, the goddess would be both safe and honored properly. Perhaps it would help his daughter focus a little better too, as she often lost her way when left in charge of an expedition. Nevertheless, Zelda was the commander of the Champions, and it was good for her to travel a bit more with them anyway. Rhoam prayed it was enough. He would research tirelessly on other ways to help, however minimal it might be.

It would be enough. It had to be.

XXX

The sun hung heavily on the horizon as Link and Zelda sat side by side on stone that helped support the highest tower in the castle. After the fairly awkward picnic lunch, the group had gone their separate ways, Champion disappearing entirely upon reentering the castle grounds while Zellie eagerly said she’d plan out their trip and vanished around a corner. Link and Zelda had remained quiet for most of the afternoon, piecing together their resolve while still drawing strength from each other. They had silently grown tired of the confinement of the stone walls and climbed to the highest point of the castle. The air was a touch chillier here, though not nearly clear and relieving enough, but it was still better than being trapped inside.

And Zelda would be lying if she said it wasn’t beautiful.

The scale of the castle was all the more apparent up here, rivaling Skyloft in size, and Castle Town was nearly as large. Beyond the large protective walls of the town was the sprawling green beauty of greater Hyrule, and settlements speckled the area, promising of more to see and more to explore. Zelda could hardly believe it.

Link’s fingers settled over hers as he shifted his hand closer. Zelda glanced over at him, seeing the sunlight sparkle in his eyes as he gazed out in wonder.

This felt like all the times they’d sit together at the edge of Skyloft, having played themselves into exhaustion and silence. Link had always been a quiet one, and Zelda had never had an issue with it, sometimes enjoying the tenderness such silence could bring. She especially appreciated it on days that Groose was particularly loud and annoying.

But looking at her beloved husband right now reminded her of their earlier fight, of his words and the princess’ fears and the king’s request and her own anxieties. She again found herself wondering how she was going to juggle all this, how she could help the princess fight Demise, how they could even defeat him this time. At least with a trip to look at these divine beast things, there was a plan in place. Zelda could work with a plan.

Besides… maybe the springs could hold something for her as well. Maybe… maybe in the past… when she’d been Hylia… surely she’d seen this coming, right?

Right?

Zelda didn’t know what to do. She had no guide. She missed Impa so much it hurt.

At least I have Link with me this time, she thought, though there was a touch of bitterness to it. Of course he was with her this time – it wasn’t like he could escape this wretched fate, either. But honestly… she couldn’t imagine dealing with this with anyone else. As much as she wished Impa was here, she was forever grateful that Link was. If only both of them could accompany her. If only things could make sense.

But never mind that. There was a whole new world to explore. The Surface had been amazingly new and beautiful, and her restored memories had not lessened that. She couldn’t wait to see what the Surface had become now.

She tried to focus on that, tried to reorient her mind to recognizing that this wasn’t just a terrifying preparation for the war to begin anew. It was an adventure, and she would make sure it ended well.

But wait. Someone else had been on their adventure.

Zelda found herself thinking of her own people, of her friends and her father and the other settlers. She hoped and prayed they were alright.

And that they wouldn’t get near the Gate. Surely… surely they wouldn’t. There was no way they could. Groose was injured (Golden Three, she hoped he was doing okay), and no one else dared enter the Sealed Temple.

She hoped the guards she asked for would keep the place safe.

Zelda leaned over, letting her head rest on Link’s shoulder, and her husband settled his head atop hers. Tomorrow was going to be the start of something entirely new, and she was glad they would face it together.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Link turned his head to nuzzle into her hair a little more, and his arm moved to wrap around her. “I love you too.”

XXX

Hyrule Castle hummed with anticipation as the last rays of sunlight seeped out of the sky. Champions genuflected to the king, spoke with their guards and servants, and prepared themselves for the honor of accompanying a deity. The princess of Hyrule sprawled out on her bed, maps and books all over the covers, though they did little benefit as the girl’s head slowly plopped directly on to a book about the history of the Temple of Time, soft snores escaping her. The royal guards protecting the goddess’ quarters grew anxious as no goddess appeared, while two teenagers snuggled high up above the castle, enjoying the clear night sky. The captain of the guard prayed quietly in his quarters, dinner forgotten, as he thought about the trip the next day. The king moved restlessly through the royal library as he tried to find any clues of the Triforce.

Meanwhile, the princess’ appointed knight snuck around the castle walls, looking around the docks before finding a suitable place to strip off his shirt as the Zora princess waved at him.

The water was cold, and Link felt himself involuntarily gasp as he dipped his bare feet into it. Grabbing hold of his resolve, he leapt into the water, knowing the best way to adjust to the temperature was to just take the plunge. He let it invigorate him, startling all the worries of the day out of his mind as he just focused on swimming. Somehow, just floating in the water helped carry his worries away. He always enjoyed it.

Mipha giggled, catching his attention, and he swam over to her, smiling. They hadn’t done this in what felt like years—maybe it actually had been that long. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until just now.

“Oh Link,” Mipha said happily. “I’m so glad you could join me!”

Link’s smile grew, and the princess took that as a cue to continue.

“King Rhoam asked for me,” she noted, catching his attention. “Alongside all the other Champions. He asked us to accompany you and the princess as she took the goddess Hylia around Hyrule. I could hardly say no to such a request, but—oh, Link, how can I even get near such a being? Surely I’m not worthy of that. Do you think she’ll go in a carriage or something? At least that way she’ll never see me.”

Link stared at her a moment, letting the words flow through him like the water. The king wished the Champions to go with them? That wasn’t unreasonable, but it certainly changed things a little. Mostly for the better, honestly.

Except for Revali. Ugh. Great.

But having Mipha around would be nice. And Princess Zelda would appreciate Chief Urbosa’s company. Not to mention Daruk’s company would be nice. Though… Link wasn’t sure how Hylia or her Hero would take it.

But Mipha’s concerns registered in his mind, and he shook his head. In the solitude of the castle waters, he didn’t have to hide himself, though the paranoia persisted despite being with his friend. He pushed himself to speak freely. “She’s… not what I expected. I don’t think she’ll dislike you, Mipha.”

“Perhaps,” his friend agreed uncertainly, eyes looking at the moonlight dancing on the water.

“Nobody could dislike you,” Link reassured her, swimming a little closer and sinking into the water so he ended up in her line of sight. Mipha giggled at him as the only part of him that was visible above water was from his nose to the top of his head. She dove abruptly, and Link followed suit, the pair smiling at each other as they swam in circles. It almost felt like they were kids again, playing in Zora’s Domain while Link’s father was assigned there. It almost made him forget everything that was happening.

Almost.

Though, now that he had stepped away from the others, now that he was allowed to just have some simple fun and be with a friend, his mind felt much clearer. The usual immense weight on his shoulders felt a little less heavy, even just momentarily. While Hylia herself was still quite the mystery, her Hero was less so. And while Link still felt a little intimidated approaching him or Her Grace, he could at least draw courage from the fact that neither of them hated him.

He hoped the trip would be fruitful for Zelda. He truly did. The poor princess deserved it.

But what else would this trip bring? What could Link possibly contribute to it? Nothing, he supposed, except for his protection, as always. He supposed that was enough.

As Link and Mipha breached the water’s surface, he glanced back at the castle, wondering what this journey would bring. The playful moment was gone, Mipha stilled beside him, and then she said quietly, “The Calamity draws ever nearer… but Link… we have so much going for us. It must all end well, right?”

I don’t know. He truly didn’t. But… he nodded nonetheless. Because Mipha didn’t need to worry, and honestly, Link would do everything in his power to ensure that Calamity Ganon would be defeated. That had always been enough.

“I pray it will,” Mipha continued, before smiling gently at him. “I will strive to improve my fighting abilities in the meantime. I hope Her Grace and the Hero enjoy seeing the Domain—oh! Oh, I must send word to my father! We can’t be unprepared over such a visit!”

And just like that, his friend was in a frenzy, fretting about divine visitors and speaking about how Zora’s Domain should be ready. Link followed her back to the shore, somewhat amused—he was pretty certain there was nothing she could do to alert her father at the moment, but he was no stranger to worrying over everything and nothing in the middle of the night—and the pair snuck back into the castle. Link tried to hide his shivers as he crept along, listening to water drip off them both on the cobblestone.

“Oh, you’re freezing!” Mipha fretted, immediately grabbing him and holding him close. Link felt his heart skip a beat and by the goddesses he wished he didn’t—they’d done this as children; all the Zora had huddled together for warmth when exiting frigid waters. As children they weren’t quite adept and regulating their temperature, and they knew that Link himself was not capable. But it felt—now it was—

Link swallowed, feeling his cheeks warm up far faster than the rest of him, and Mipha froze. The two locked eyes for a moment, and the Zora princess immediately spluttered and stumbled back so quickly she nearly fell into yet another plant. Link reached out automatically, catching her by the wrist, and she hastily said, “I m-must go, I’m so very sorry, Link, good night!”

The young knight watched his friend practically flee indoors, and he felt… he didn’t know. Guilty? Sad? Embarrassed? All three?

He sighed as his gaze drifted upward along the castle. The worries from a moment ago bled out of him easily as anxieties over tomorrow filled the void. He didn’t think he would be sleeping much tonight. But the focus was back on Princess Zelda, where it belonged. He was there to fulfill a duty as well, but it didn’t require attention or scrutiny. He could guard and watch. He could do that.

He found himself wondering if the Hero of Legend would do that as well. He found himself wondering what he was even supposed to do with that Hero.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do anymore, honestly. And while he no longer held any worry that his predecessor hated him, he certainly had little idea of how to help him. Assuming he even needed help.

It was all just… confusing. If this trip was fruitful in any way, he hoped it would at least make things less confusing.

I suppose I’ll find out, he thought as he followed Mipha’s wet footprints inside the castle, slipping back into the façade of the perfect soldier.

#writing #breath of the wild #skyward sword #legend of zelda #breath of the wild link #botw link #breath of the wild zelda #botw zelda #skyward sword link #ss link #skyward sword zelda #ss zelda #zelink #miphlink #mipha and link are anxious little beans in love #and too dumb to figure it out #everyone needs an adult and a hug #even the adults lol #Abel deserves a pay raise #Rhoam needs some counseling on how to be a good dad #he's got the right spirit but DUDE #the royal guards assigned to protect Hylia and the Mythical Hero when they realize they're missing again: YOU GOT TO BE KIDDING ME #nobody knows the lovebirds are sitting on the top of the castle #Abel is gonna get a frantic messenger again and sigh heavily #Zellie is planning a great National Geographic Tour of Hyrule and is super excited about it #WHO'S READY FOR A ROAD TRIP #breath of the sky #skye time travels through the queue

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