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“My entire court offers their condolences, my friend,” King Dorephan said, his voice a rumble that General Seggin could feel in his fins and the floor. He wondered how any Hylian could stand before the Zora king and not quake in his presence, but they had always been a curious people he had never understood. Foolish, brave things that seemed aware their lifespans were brutally short and seemed dedicated to constantly trying to top eachother in the ways they left this world. It was hard not to respect at least the fury and passion with which their lives burned, if ever briefly.
“I will mourn her until the day I die,” the Hylian king murmured, a soft sound Seggin thought unbecoming of his station, no matter how sternly he postured himself. “I mourn even more for Zelda, who no longer has a teacher to mentor her in her sealing powers. She only just began her training this past winter…”
King Dorephan shifted his hands behind his back, towering over both his Demon General and the King of the Hylians as the two leaders stared out at the peaceful countryside over the parapets of the castle.
“She will come into her own,” King Dorephan rumbled, “as Mipha has. I hope only that my daughter may support your own in the wake of this tragedy.”
“You are a fountain of wisdom and support, as usual, my old friend,” King Rhoam sighed. “To have lost my wife to Yiga scourge is pity enough, to have lost nearly half the royal guard as well is all the more the ire. Oh, Kurt…” King Rhoam’s eyes fixated somewhere distant and his lip curled in disgust. Seggin felt his foolish heart betray him with a stutter of grief- the previous captain of the royal Hylian guard, Kurt, had been one of his dearest friends- a calculating, dedicated man who was nearly as good as chess as he was with a sword. Nearly. He’d never bested Seggin at the game- and now he never would.
“Guardsman Kurt was an honourable warrior,” King Dorephan sighed, closing his eyes. “He will be difficult to replace, I'm certain.”
“Undoubtedly so,” King Rhoam confirmed. “My second choice would have been his wife, Rhiezha- to have lost them both seems like the will of Calamity Ganon himself.”
“Caution yourself, my friend,” King Dorephan warned, “that you do not speak truths into being in anger.”
Seggin tightened his hand on his spear at his side ever so. He hadn’t known Rhiezha had passed- she had been in the care of the Hylian’s most gifted healers when he had last heard of her condition, and he had assumed she would recover.
“Your Majesty,” he heard himself say, his voice a gruff thing not fit for this stately dialogue. He sensed surprise on the Hylian, who turned ever so to look at him. “I beg your forgiveness for the interruption- but did you say Rhiezha passed away?”
King Rhoam nodded grimly. “This morning. I am told the wound was too close to her heart to heal. She never awakened. I do not know if that is a blessing or a curse…”
“What of…” he started, and felt his own King eye him in warning, that he should mind his place and his tongue, but General Seggin could not stop himself. “What of their son? What’s become of him?”
King Rhoam paused, and for a moment Seggin feared he would not be answered. Eventually, the Hylian sighed. “He will be given the best education possible, of course. I’ll be sending him to the highest order of Hylia’s priests when his mourning period has passed.”
“Is that wise?” Seggin asked.
“General,” King Dorephan rumbled. He was overstepping.
“I beg your forgiveness, sire, I mean not to question your judgement, but- the boy’s parents were two of the greatest warriors I’ve met in your kingdom. Surely it would be a waste to see him idle in a cathedral.”
King Rhoam frowne. “Perhaps you are right. Though, the royal knights will find themselves far too busy in the coming years replacing those lost to find a proper mentor for the boy. He may simply have to make do.”
“I’ll take him.”
“What?” the Hylian king said. He sounded genuinely surprised as he turned around to face him. King Dorephan was silent. “You?”
“Kurt and Rhiezha were my friends, sire,” General Seggin explained, looking at the ground respectfully. “I could not live with myself if I abandoned their orphan son in the wake of their deaths.”
King Rhoam was silent for a moment. “A Hylian child is very different from a Zora child,” he mused, finally, “in both development and ability. Do you truly think it wise to raise him yourself?”
“I have a son, Bazz, who’s just fifteen now, so he’s not a tadpole anymore. We’ve just moved above ground to the uppercity, and while I’m certain the arrangement is not…” he struggled for the word, “...ideal, none can be, considering the circumstances.”
The two Kings were silent for a moment, before they exchanged a look. Finally, King Rhoam turned away, back to the sunset. “Very well. As of today, he will be released into your custody. I pray the Goddess grants you mercy in your endeavor.”
Seggin looked up when he heard squealing children, and saw Gaddison’s pale opal hide streak across the landing. She shrieked with laughter as Bazz and Rivan gave chase behind her.
“Children! Don’t play rough!” he called from his post, frowning.
“The demon’s going to eat us!” little Rivan screamed, without stalling his chase after Gaddison.
“A terrifying creature you are, Seggin,” Trello chuckled heartily beside him. “Fatherhood hardly suits you.”
Seggin shot him a look. “Nor you, my friend. You’re looking grim around the gills in your age already.”
“Hardly,” Trello snorted. “Hm. Where’s your little troublemaker?”
“Link?” Seggin asked, frowning. “Home with Kais, I certainly hope.”
“It’s Calamity Ganon!” little Gaddison shrieked, and Seggin looked up at her. She was pointing upward and by the time Seggin had followed her gesture, Link had thrown himself off the platform with a yell and tackled her into the shallow pool she had been standing in.
“Link!” Seggin snapped, but the children ignored him. “You’re not supposed to play unsupervised!”
“You can see us!” Bazz whined, the only one who even acknowledged him. Seggin tightened his lips into a grim line.
“Fear not, Princess!” Gaddison cried as she squirmed out of her Hylian captor’s grasp, splashing like mad. “I, the Zora champion, will defeat this great evil and save Hyrule!”
“My hero!” Bazz cried with an exaggerated swoon. Seggin frowned. He thought he was raising that boy to want to be the hero himself. Or at least, not to mock princesses. He wasn't sure which he was doing.
Link rose up out of the water, dripping like a soaked land dweller, but evidently unbothered. He snarled and clawed his hands like he was a foul beast and stepped forward ominously.
“I will seal the darkness within you, demon!” Gaddison monologued, then raised the stick that Seggin hadn’t noticed she was holding above her head like a sword.
“No sticks!” Seggin yelled, finally breaking his position to wade forward quickly as Link threw himself at Gaddison and she began wildly wapping the boy with her stick. “No sticks, no sticks!”
“Daaaad!” Bazz whined when Seggin picked up Gaddison and held her aloft, still swinging her stick. Link jumped up, grabbing for her, seemingly unphased. “You’re going to let Calamity Ganon win!”
“Link, perhaps you should play with Bazz and Rivan and Gaddison less,” Seggin suggested, running his knife under the scales of the fish he was skinning in one fluid swipe that took off a whole side.
Link turned and gave him a look of confusion, his hand stilling as he flayed his own, already skinned.
“Well, perhaps you’ve noticed, that… you are aging a bit faster than them,” he suggested, “and you may want to explore friendships with peers that are more… similar, to you,” he finished awkwardly.
Link looked down at his fish, perhaps a bit sadly, but it was hard to tell. Seggin suspected that he was better at reading the boy than most, but even he struggled to know what he was feeling.
“How about you come with me tomorrow for the council meeting? Lady Mipha never has anyone to talk to her own age. I think you’re about at her level, developmentally speaking. I think you would get along very well.”
Link was silent, setting the bones and head of the fish aside to be used as bait later. Seggin wasn’t sure if he had agreed or not.
“She’s a very skilled trident user, I’m certain she would love to have a sparring partner,” he suggested, and found himself internally patting himself on the back when Link finally broke into a smile.
Seggin had regarded the tournament fondly that day. Judging the youth single combat trials had always seemed like a job given to him for the sake of irony, but one he enjoyed very much. Gaddison had pushed Kodah into a withdraw within two minutes, always the top of her class. Rivan had been late and forfeited, much to Trello’s frustration.
Bazz had lost, unfortunately, but he had been much younger than the other boy, and still held his own until the very end. Seggin found himself surprised at his son’s own abilities.
Bazz slunk across the field to sit down beside him on the ground, behind the judge’s table.
“I lost,” he grumbled, “you should have said I won.”
“That would be cheating, Bazz,” he said, eyeing as the next class began filling the field and the younger children filtered back into the stands. “You are better than that. Next year, you will win”
“Maybe,” Bazz whined.
“I must admit,” Seggin said, peering down at his grumbling son. “You were far better with your sword than I remembered. Have you been practicing behind my back?”
Bazz looked sheepishly at his feet, “Uh huh. Link’s been training me.”
“Has he?” Seggin mused, watching as Link and Lady Mipha took opposite sides of the challenge platform. He pursed his lips when Link blew her a kiss as he unsheathed his sword, brazenly flirting with the heir to the Zora throne in front of an entire audience. That boy would be the death of him.
“Uh huh. He’s real good,” Bazz said. “Oh! Is he going now?”
Bazz scrambled to his feet and clambered into his father’s lap to peek over the table and watch the fight.
“Who do you think will win?” Seggin whispered to him.
“Oh, Link for sure!” Bazz cried, bouncing excitedly. “He’s the toughest Zora ever!”
“Hush, Bazz, Link isn’t a Zora,” he chastised. Across the way, the horn signalled the fight begin, and Lady Mipha took the opening blow, throwing her trident with the force of a hunter who’d spotted prey. Seggin’s heart leapt into his throat as Link rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding the dulled but ever dangerous blade. “He’s a Hylian, remember?”
Bazz shrugged like he was acknowledging Seggin had spoken more than he was agreeing with him. Bazz leaned forward to cheer when Link pushed himself to his feet as Lady Mipha dove gracefully across the field to her weapon, tearing it from where it had struck the pavillion and having behind her where Link was attempting to rush her. Link stumbled back out of the way of the weapon and grabbed his sword, two handed, smashing it against Lady Mipha’s trident. It unbalanced her just enough that he managed to duck around its side and slash at her with a defiant cry.
Seggin laughed. “What a stupid, bold move. He gets that from your mother, you know,” he observed to Bazz, who stuck out his tongue.
Lady Mipha recovered though, jabbing her spear in the ground to right herself. She grabbed it tight, drew her legs in to her chest and kicked her opponent in the ribs so hard he tumbled backward twice.
Seggin laughed.
“You’re certain you’ll be fine?” Seggin found himself asking again. “I wish I’d taught you to ride, now, but I’m certain you’ll learn quick enough in the capital. Don’t forget to write, you know Kais will do nothing but worry and nag me to know about your progress-”
Link was nodding rapidly, like Seggin was repeating himself. He’d probably said all this a hundred times on the trip here. He sighed.
“Do write, my boy. You’ll do well in the royal guard. It’s in your blood.” Seggin paused, putting a hand on the teenager’s shoulder. “And your attitude. I hope to hear good things.”
Link paused, then stepped forward and hugged him. Seggin wasn't particularly well versed in emotional sentiment, but with Link finally beginning his apprenticeship with the Hylian guard… he didn’t expect to see him for some time. He’d raised him for nearly a decade. He patted him awkwardly on the back.
“Make us proud, Link.”
The news tore through him like wet paper.
The knowledge had nagged at him like a festering wound as he’d shoved tridents through the eyes of rampaging guardians, the world all fire and black ichor that rippled through the cracking ground and threatened to swallow him and his army whole.
He must have known.
He must have known when he’d pulled the little prince away from the reservoir’s precipice while Vah Ruta stank of black mist and crackling electricity, screaming like death. He must have known when the beast reared and sighed and collapsed, lifeless and hollow.
He must have known when the Guardians burst forth like demons from ancient legends, bringing suffering and death in their wake, splitting Hyrule open like a crabshell and devouring what they found with abandon. He must known, watching soldiers fall like twigs in the breeze. He must have.
And yet, somehow, when the scouts returned from Hyrule castle with their heads hung in shame and no hope in their reports he found himself screaming, burning with a new kind of fury that had him dragged away, still shrieking. He had to have known. He must have known. He couldn't not have known.
His son was dead.
Some wounds take a hundred years to heal.
And some spend that century festering, stubbornly refusing to knit themselves back together, to offer any healing or respite from their burn. Some wounds never right themselves. They leave putrid scars that weep and ache, forever.
Seggin watched the rain pour, Vah Ruta’s cursed blessing, somber. Part of him yearned to lead an army against this threat, but an army would find no victory against their opponent, and he was no longer a general, but an old man who watched the rain fall. The Domain was a glittering diamond beneath the white mist created by the downpour, but in the distance, on the bridge, he spotted motion and tilted his head curiously.
Someone was running along the entrance toward the Uppercity platform. They were too short to be a Zora- their kingdom hadn’t had many visitors since Vah Ruta had begun its torrent… Ah, the Prince must have found the Hylian he was looking for. Seggin chuckled as the visitor approached, certain they had no idea what they were in for. They’d reached new levels of desperation, to be plucking Hylians off the street to solve their problems.
The traveler came closer, and Seggin frowned. He looked… familiar, but he couldn’t place from where. It took a moment- just one moment as the wind pushed the rain away for an instant and Seggin saw the traveler’s face, and he knew, the way he must have known.
“Link,” he whispered, stepping along the path towards the platform, slowly at first, before he broke into a run, giddy, delirious. “Link!”