#pre-botw

[jacksfandomrandom]

If you like my trans ftm Zelda series then you'd probably like this

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Its got Motherly Urbosa, traumatized Sheik, and its going off into a (sort of) sickfic

[eeebles-art-dump]

[jadevalentine-writes]

WIP Wednesday - LoZ Pre-BOTW Fic

Welp. RIP me. I lost the battle to the LoZ/Zelink blupees.

Zelda remembered the day that Link returned from the Great Hyrule Forest with the legendary sword clearly. It was difficult to forget a day that altered the trajectory of your life forever, though she did try. Now, she wished she could recall how Link felt as he knelt before her and her father and presented them with the blade to banish evil. She wished she would have asked. 

Then, all she felt was her own unbridled rage. 

Rage at the circumstances, rage at her own inadequacy which was thrown into stark relief with Link’s triumphant return. She remembered clenching her hands tightly in the folds of her dress to keep them from shaking. She remembered biting her tongue to keep from screaming as she watched the greatest swordsman in Hyrule, her bodyguard, of all people, unsheath the majestic blade with a flourish and then offer it on his palms to her father. 

She remembered wishing he would have died in the woods like the dozen others that tried to find it. 

It was all so unfair. 

Three days prior, Zelda thought nothing of Link joining the search. 

King Rhoam had sent out a rally cry across Hyrule, asking the best and bravest adventurers to gather at the castle for a quest unparalleled in their lifetime: the search for the legendary Master Sword. It was all a precaution, he explained, against an impending doom they would likely never encounter. If anything, he saw it was a way to unify the people. A bonding quest to unite the kingdom. He never anticipated the large turnout, but then again, King Rhoam did not know his people, not the way Zelda did. 

They were not clinging to hope and rumor like the King. They were taking a chance for potential riches untold. She heard rumors from stablehands and maids that some contestants even surmised they could win Zelda’s hand in marriage if they returned with the sword, paying no heed to her only seventeen years of age or the blatant fact that she had better things to do than get married, especially to a chicken farmer from the central plains. 

Regardless of the reason, hundreds poured through the gates and set up camp, literally, in Castle Town. Inns were overbooked and tents were pitched along the castle walls. It was utter chaos, but King Rhoam smiled with delight at the sight from one of the castle balconies. 

“More eyes means a higher chance of finding the sword we need,” he had commented when Zelda joined him on the balcony a day before the search was to begin. He gestured to the tents bordering the walls of the town. “There will be many eyes.”

“And how many eyes have a chance of surviving?” Zelda asked as she gazed down to the crowded town far below. “The lore is vague, at best, and mythical items are seldom within easy reach.” 

King Rhoam sighed. “There will be loss, of course, but nothing compared to the loss this kingdom will endure should Calamity strike when we are unarmed.” 

Zelda squeezed her hands together as she glanced at one of the inner courtyards where a partially functional Guardian sat. They would not be unarmed, regardless of having a single special sword, if she could dedicate the time to more technological research. She did not speak, however, as she knew her words would not be heard. They had the argument too many times before. Research and experimentation were no place for a princess who was meant to save the kingdom. 

Yet each day that slipped by was one day more without her unlocking her supposed powers and every hour she “wasted” was noted by the king’s steel gaze. Zelda hoped her lack of success was because the foretold Calamity would skip her generation, and that her unfortunate offspring would have to bear the burden. 

Wisdom told her otherwise, of course. The issue was not with lineage or timing, it was with her. She was the failure, the weak link in her family’s history. She would be the cause of Hyrule’s downfall, the cause of death and plague and strife. And there was nothing she could do as it hurtled towards her. 

It was selfish to pray to the Goddess for the Master Sword to never be found, but she did anyway that night. She begged and pleaded for it to stay lost, because then at least she could be at peace with her supposed insufficiency. 

Zelda learned, however, that the Goddess could be cruel.

***

On the day of the start of the hunt, Zelda was surprised to not find Link outside her bedroom door as usual. She eyed the unfamiliar guard with barely concealed hostility. 

“Where is my guard?” she asked firmly. 

The man swallowed, and his armor rattled as he shifted his grip on his halberd. 

“I am your guard today, your highness.”

Zelda rolled her eyes and made a mental note to add a mental aptitude test to the royal guard entry exam in the future. 

“I can see that, but you are not my bodyguard. Where is Link?”

The man swallowed again, and the halberd swayed nervously. 

“Link is participating in the quest for the Master Sword, your highness. He and many of the knights are participating.” 

Zelda was moving before he had taken a step, her full ceremonial dress be damned. 

She found King Rhoam alone in their private dining hall and did not spare him her fury.

“Link is participating in the quest?!” Zelda cried as she stomped towards him.

King Rhoam sighed and gently set his teacup down on its saucer. “Yes. Why shouldn’t he? He’s the most competent weaponsman in the entire royal guard, let alone the best knight I’ve seen in my lifetime. All factors which played a large role in choosing him to be your bodyguard, mind you.”

Zelda almost let out a growl of frustration, but a subtle clank in the corner drew her attention. She stopped, at once feeling childish at her outburst as she realized who else was in attendance. 

Of course the king would not be anywhere without his bodyguard. And of course his bodyguard was Micah, captain of the guard, and father to the very subject of her rage. 

“Micah…” she breathed. “I am sorry.”

Micah waved a gloved hand and shook his head. 

“No need, princess. I am quite proud of the boy. He would also be proud that his absence at your side is so fiercely missed.”

Micah smiled, but instead of calming her as it usually did, Zelda felt her face heat unexpectedly. 

“Worry not,” Micah continued as the guard from outside Zelda’s room finally entered, nearly doubled over with shortness of breath, “I’ll be sure to assign the best runner-up to be your guard in the meantime.”

Zelda stood straighter and smoothed her skirts gently while avoiding her father’s glare. 

“Please see that you do.” 

She then turned on her heel and left without breakfast, an already weary guard and her father’s disapproval at her back. 

***

Then, she stood in stony silence as her father delivered a speech she could not recall to bolster the spirits of the brave men and few women who were embarking on the perilous quest. 

Now, she remembered how she desperately searched the crowd, trying to find his face. 

***

The first participants gave up in a matter of hours. They returned to Castle Town, defeated, to retrieve their bedrolls and head home. They made comments of a steep climb and a winding path into a wood that felt unwelcoming. 

***

The next day found a large swath of contestants returning, also unsuccessful, but more rattled. They spoke of an oppressive fog, of wandering for hours only to wind up back where they started, of whispers from spirits that could not be seen, but were felt, like warm breath on your cheek. Some were examined psychologically, and after being given a sedative and resting, seemed normal enough to be released by the royal infirmary. 

***

That night there were screams as the first dead were found.

They were ferried on stretchers, or what was left of them was. 

Some claimed it was wolves, having come down from the mountains. Others said they had turned on each other in madness. 

Those that believed in more than prophecy knew the marks for what they were: the tooth and claw of monsters, monsters that the world had not seen in hundreds of years. 

***

The second day was filled with silence. 

The silence of defeat. The silence of funeral. 

[pastelsandpining]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 36/42 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Chapter Link

The picture was not a pleasant one, and she had the good fortune to see only bits and pieces of it. There was no doubt in her mind that there was very little left of Central Hyrule, if anything at all. The extensive waterways provided her quick transportation and cover, but it did not keep her from seeing mass amounts of monsters, swarming towns and paths by the thousands. It could only be described as horrifying, but it served as motivation to push her body faster, to slice through the water at her quickest of speeds. How far did the invasion go? The dark, swirling clouds draped a shadow over the lands that prevented her from seeing more, but when the lights of the Domain peaked through, Mipha felt a swell of hope. There were swarms of Zora soldiers, her father leading them with regal authority, and she could not be more proud. Her home was still standing. All she had to do now was defend it.

The Zora princess dove deeper into the chilly water, bobbing and weaving through fish and plants alike, until she could see Vah Ruta in the distance. It was as magnificent as ever, glowing against the night sky, and she boarded with a desperate urgency. The main terminal was deep in the interior, but they’d prepared for this. She knew this piece of machinery almost as well as she knew herself, though she supposed that’s what happens when a soul is bound to the role it played.

Cont. on AO3

[redmorningstar]

BOTW snippet: Burden

King Rhoam looks at him.

“You are the one foretold by the prophecy. You are the hero who will save Hyrule.”

Link doesn’t feel like a hero—he feels like a boy. The weight of those words settle on his shoulders heavily, like it could bury him at any moment.

He glances at the princess who stands behind the king. She looks at him with a complicated expression on her face; he can read the resentment in her eyes. Link takes it into himself without a word—if it will ease her burden, even a little, then he will endure it all.

I will carry this weight, he vows to himself, I must.

[bountiful-legends]

Random Asks. // Always Accepting.

@hyruleisforever99 - "I'm just glad you’re okay. ❜ [ Botw Zelda to Urbosa]

Her duties as a Chief may come first and piloting the Divine Beast second but in the end, Urbosa was first a friend. Sure, this thought had to be set aside during formal meetings but that has never stopped the woman in any ways.

Gaze went from the distant behemoth amidst the sand dunes to Zelda.

''I would say its thanks to the terrain being hardly uneven'', that it was not too difficult to manage. Which makes her wonder how Daruk would fare with piloting his designated Beast in a landmark like Death Mountain.

[bountiful-legends]

Random Asks. // Always Accepting.

@hyruleisforever99 - "want me to show you?'' [*offers little kiddo botw Link to Mipha]

The Zoran Princess would set sight on the young Hylian, uncertain what it was, he wished to demonstrate. Still, because of some curiosity, far from her to say no.

''Of course. What it is you want to show me?''.

[dcndrohime]

Some Meme. // Accepting.

@goldenthreadstories - "You're improving. But the battlefield won’t give you time to celebrate." - Revali?

She'd watch as downed enemies scurried off, well aware when its time to go retreat.

Polearm evaporated into nothingness before- oh!

Teals averts towards who took descent from the air, & a quiet, almost inperceivable chuckle spilt.

''Well yes. I'm fairly certain there is a time for that'', like a small lighthearted jab in spite of the shared words.