Chapter Text
The prison of the Four Sword was silence.
A silent suffocating void, pressed tight around his soul.
The seal was heavy with the weight of what must now be centuries, surely. Although, Vaati had long since lost count of the years. In this place, time meant nothing. There was nothing. Nothing but endless stillness, eternal emptiness, unceasing obscurity.
Nothing...
Apart from the faint threads of magic that seeped through the cracks.
Magic was a nexus, a web stretched across Hyrule that bound every mage, every priestess, every hedge-witch and occultist into its currents. Though his body and spirit were trapped, his essence could still drift along those threads, whispering into dreams, stirring shadows, bending the weak to his will. And they had listened. For what must have been an aeon, they had listened. The mages of Hyrule revered him still, kneeling in secret, waiting for the day his storm would return.
But not her. Never her.
Every incarnation of the princess had been deaf to him. Too powerful, too ethereal, too steeped in the blood of Hylia to hear the whispers that corrupted the souls of mortals. He had tried. Oh, how he had tried. But each Zelda had been untouchable, a wall of light against his voice. Every Zelda, since the maiden he had sought as his bride long ago, remained turned away from him.
Until now.
This latest princess was… different. The blood of Hylia still ran strong in her veins, but thinner now, diluted by mortal lineage.
She was no weaker in power, nor in spirit – he could feel her strength, sharp and radiant – but human vulnerability permeated that strength like cracks in glass. Her dreams trembled when he brushed against them, her heart faltering when his shadow touched the edges of her mind. She did not know it was him. She did not even know she was listening. But she heard.
And that was enough.
Vaati’s thoughts, once consumed by the infuriating awareness of his failure, savored the revelation. For the first time in over a millennium, the silence of his prison did not feel absolute. The threads of magic had carried his voice to her, and when she had not shut him out, he had known.
This Zelda was the one.
The one who would free him.
The one who would end his exile.
And, finally…
The one who would belong to him.
Vaati laughed to himself, still trapped in his prison within the Four Sword for now, yet darkly anticipating the return that seemed imminent.
And at Hyrule Castle, Princess Zelda’s eyes opened.
Her teal-blue irises fixed upon the canopy of her four-poster, not truly seeing it. Likewise, her body rose from the bed, without her consciously controlling the motion.Soundlessly, her bare feet moved across the cold stone floor of her chambers.
Her breath was shallow and uneven, her surroundings blurred like she were a phantom drifting through a world she was no longer physically part of, as she left her rooms. The castle’s corridors stretched endlessly before her. Torches guttered as Zelda passed, their flames only serving to exacerbate the shadows.
She didn’t question where she was going. She couldn’t. Her body carried her onward in her sleeping state, guided by something unseen.
Within the dream world in which Zelda walked, the torches weren’t the only source of illumination. Crimson light was pouring in through the castle’s high windows, staining the walls and tapestries with its terrible glow. Lifting her gaze, Zelda saw the moon, vast and red, hanging low in the sky.
A Blood Moon. An omen everyone in Hyrule dreaded to see.
Its light followed her, pressing against her skin and painting her in its bloody color, until at last she emerged onto the battlements. The wind tore at her nightgown and hair, sharp and icy, biting against her skin. She shivered, but did not wake. Beyond the walls, the night was vast and starless, lit only by the Blood Moon…
Only, Zelda now saw it was not a moon at all. It was an eye. Giant and with a blood-red iris, leering down at her from the pitch-black sky.
And in the blackness, there were yet more eyes. Countless crimson eyes, staring from the void. They blinked in and out of the dark like embers, watching and waiting. Zelda tried to step back, but the eyes pressed closer, multiplying, filling the horizon until the night itself seemed alive with their gaze.
Then the darkness moved.
Tendrils coiled from the void, snapping around her ankles, her wrists, her waist, her throat. Cold bands of shadow tightened, pulling her toward the abyss. Toward the hungry, devouring eyes that awaited her there.
Terror unlike anything Zelda had felt before surged in her chest, her breath breaking into a scream…
….that continued to tear from her throat as she jolted awake.
Zelda’s body lurched backward against the cold stone, breath ragged, heart hammering. The crimson eyes were gone, the tendrils of darkness disappeared. The red glare had dissolved into the pale silver of a waning moon, glowing softly amid a scatter of stars.
She pressed trembling hands to her chest, disoriented, terrified. The wind still nipped at her skin, her thin nightgown offering little protection from the elements.
What had happened? Where was she? How did she-
“Princess.”
A male voice, quiet and soothing, cut across her storm of panicked thoughts. Zelda flinched, turning sharply. A guard stood a few paces away, blond hair catching the torchlight, blue eyes fixed on her with concern.
“Are you alright?”
“I…” No. Zelda’s words broke into a sob. “I saw… there were eyes-” Her hand raised toward the sky, weak and unsteady, as though pointing at something only she could still see.
“It was a dream,” the guard said gently. “Now, you’re awake. You’re safe, Princess.” His tone was calm, grounding. Zelda clutched at the stone, heart still racing, until his words began to pierce the fog.
Safe. Awake. This, what she was experiencing in the here and now, was real. The awful things she had just seen weren’t.
Zelda’s breathing slowed, though the tremors lingered. She looked at him properly for the first time. He was young, and his bright blue eyes were kind. “Sorry,” she whispered, unsteady. “I… I don’t know your name…”
“Link.” He bowed his head slightly. “I was on patrol when I saw you leave your chambers. You seemed to be sleepwalking. I decided not to wake you – I didn’t want to frighten you – but followed to make sure you came to no harm.”
The ghost of a faint, fragile smile surfaced through the princess’s fear. “Then I owe you thanks, Master Link.”
The warmth of her words eased the tension between them, though her heart still carried the weight of the nightmare. For a moment, she almost laughed at the absurdity of meeting someone this way.
Link stepped closer, still being careful not to startle her. “Let me escort you back to your rooms.”
Zelda nodded, still shaken but grateful. Together they walked through the silent corridors, her steps steadier with his presence beside her. She kept her gaze down, cheeks warm with embarrassment. To be discovered wandering the battlements in her nightgown, screaming no less, was mortifying.
Yet beneath the flush of shame, worry ate away at her conscience. Tonight was a definite escalation, but this wasn’t the first time she had been thrown from her slumber. For weeks, sleep had been a battlefield punctuated by jarring awakenings from nightmares that left her with a pounding heart and suffocating sense of dread.
If they even were nightmares.
The raw terror and inexplicable dread felt too potent, too real, for simple nocturnal phantoms. In her late adolescence, she was far past childish night terrors. It made Zelda wonder if these dreams were something more than dreams. Could they…
…could they be premonitions?
As descendant of Hylia, Zelda bore the weight of her lineage, of a battle her kingdom had been fighting against a relentless tide of darkness. The curse of Demise, laid upon the Goddess and the Hero of Sky, was her inheritance, a burden she couldn’t escape. And now these nightmares, these fragmented terrors, felt like a warning of troubled times ahead, for her and all of Hyrule.
Each princess knew from birth that they may have to face adversity, the next calamity, in their lifetime. Could her own time have come?
Zelda glanced sideways at Link, who walked a half-step behind her, his presence a quiet reassurance. He had seen her at her weakest, yet he offered no judgment, only calm. Somehow, that steadiness eased the weight pressing against her chest. Though her mind still churned, her breathing had evened by the time they reached her chamber door, some of her usual composure returning.
“Thank you for your assistance, Master Link.” Zelda paused, tilting her head as she looked at him inquiringly. “I don’t believe I’ve seen your face before.”
And I’d remember that face, she couldn’t help but think. Link was very good-looking.
“I started yesterday, Your Highness,” he replied, bowing. “I hope to serve Hyrule well.” His voice was soft, but his gaze held a quiet intensity.
“I’m sure you will,” Zelda said, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “They’re already trusting you with the nightly patrol. That is quite the honor. If a rather dubious one.”
“It has its advantages,” Link countered, a hint of a smile in his own eyes. “I finally got to meet you.”
That was bolder than she expected. Zelda laughed, her lingering tenseness easing. “I’m flattered, Master Link.” She resisted the urge to giggle like a teenage girl at the compliment. It didn’t matter that she was a teenage girl; she was also a princess, and giggling foolishly was unseemly conduct.
“But may I ask,” she continued, with polite intrigue, “what made you want to become a soldier, Link?” He was younger than the average recruit, not looking much older than herself.
Her laughter had drawn a small, unguarded shift in Link’s expression. Now, his gaze dropped. “My father served in your father’s army. He taught me to fight but was killed three years back, in a Yiga raid. I want to honor his memory.”
A pang of empathy resonated within Zelda, hearing this. Her own mother had died ten years ago, leaving a wound in her heart that had never truly healed. “You have my deepest condolences.”
“You’re kind to say so, Princess.”
“You’ll make a fine knight,” Zelda assured him softly. “One who will make his father proud.”
He bowed his head, visibly blushing. “Thank you, Your Highness.” His gaze flicked toward her chamber doors, waiting for her to retire. But after a moment’s thought, Zelda shook her head lightly.
“I won’t return to bed yet. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep, anyway. I’ll be going to the library for some reading first.”
Link seemed to understand. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Master Link.”
“And you, Princess.” He bowed once more before turning back to his patrol.
Zelda made her way toward the library. The other guards stationed along the corridors offered respectful nods as she passed, gestures of familiarity as opposed to surprise. They all knew where she was headed.
Inside the library, Zelda lit the torches, casting the room in a soft, blue glow. She moved straight to the history shelves, pulling down every volume on her ancestors. Her family was, after all, most famous for its women, the ones who inherited the power of Hylia. Once, she had loved immersing herself in their stories of princesses and heroes, magic and courage – back when she was a little girl with her head in the clouds, dreaming about having her own hero come to sweep her off feet.
But she wasn't here to entertain herself with such fairytales tonight. The shelves groaned under the weight of her research, as hours blurred together. She analysed tales of past Zeldas, their battles against darkness, their visions, their warnings; read until her eyes burned, searching for answers or at least a pattern, in the lives of those who had carried this burden before her.
One story after another unfolded. The tragedy of the Imprisoning War, where one princess foresaw Ganondorf’s treachery but was tragically ignored by her father. The Lorulian crisis, where nightmares haunted both the princess and her hero as visions of Ganon plagued their sleep. Zelda’s fingers trembled slightly as she closed each book.
Her nightmares were different. Not Ganon. She would have remembered if she’d seen his monstrous boar form. But what, then? She flipped through yet another tome, her thoughts racing. Could Demise, ancient nemesis of Hylia, have returned in a new form? His hatred was said to reincarnate endlessly, after all.
Her fingers landed on a familiar legend, the tale of the Four Sword. Long before the Imprisoning War, the kingdom had been ravaged by Vaati, a wind sorcerer who abducted maidens and left Hyrule in ruins. Only a boy, wielding a mystical sword capable of splitting him into four, managed to seal Vaati away.
It was a tale so ancient that Zelda hadn’t thought about it in years, despite knowing it off by heart. Vaati held little relevance to her political lessons; unlike Ganon, whose return was a constant, looming possibility, Vaati’sname was spoken only in dusty histories and classical studies, any possibility of his revival having been long dismissed.
Which was why she gave it little thought now. Until she turned the page, to where an illustration of the Four Sword shrine stretched across the parchment – the four elemental pillars, the stone pedestal, the sword gleaming with a faint, enchanted light – and her heart nearly leapt from her chest.
Carved above the sword’s resting place was a single, stylized eye.
Eye symbols weren’t uncommon in Hyrulian iconography. The Sheikah tribe, steadfast allies of her family, were known to be represented by an eye sigil. The Yiga Clan, traitors to the Sheikah, used the same symbol, only inverted. But this eye wasn’t like the Sheikah’s, or even the Yiga’s. There was no tear drop.
Just an unblinking, pitiless gaze.
Zelda stared back at it, her pulse stuttering. The eye looked familiar. Horribly familiar. Horribly similar, to the crimson eye she had seen moments earlier in her nightmares.
Why would such an eye be carved into the walls of the Four Sword sanctuary?
A burning suspicion waited to be confirmed. Reaching for another book, Zelda flipped to the chapter on the Four Sword legend. This one contained a depiction of Vaati himself. The old sketch, inked in stark black lines, showed an orb-like demon swirling with shadow. And at his center…
Was that exact same eye. Carrying the same cruel, almost mocking expression.
Zelda’s fingers trembled. She continued to scour the books, no longer searching for the story but for the images, for the symbol that was burned into her memory. She soon found another illustration of Vaati, similar to the last… only this one was in color.
And his eye was red. A stark, violent crimson that seemed to bleed out from the page, like the light of the Blood Moon.
Zelda pulled down another volume. Then another. Each illustration of Vaati was different, but all shared one unmistakable feature of a single, glaring, orb-like eye. Sometimes winged. Sometimes framed by swirling shadows. Sometimes burning like a star about to collapse. But always red, when shown in color.
And always watching.
Everything seemed to be blurring together; the red eye in the sky, the countless blinking eyes in the void, the crushing sense of being observed. She turned another page, and the inked eye stared back at her.
She wasn’t imagining this. This couldn’t be a coincidence. It was confirmation that her dreams weren’t simply childish fear but a warning, pointing her toward something.
Someone.
Vaati.
It wasn’t the name Zelda had grown up fearing, yet it now seemed to pulse on the page, ancient and hungry. Her nightmares, the shrine, the eye motif repeating again and again… it all aligned with terrible clarity.
Vaati was stirring once more.
Returning, once more?
Zelda slammed the last book shut. Then she gathered every volume on the Four Sword she could carry – as many as her arms would hold – and returned the rest to their shelves. Her thoughts raced as she left the library, pausing only long enough to wish Link goodnight before heading back to her chambers. Exhaustion dragged at her eyelids, but she wouldn't be sleeping tonight.
Back in her rooms, the candle burned low, its flame wavering with each turn of a page. Determination kept her upright long after her mind and body begged for rest. Everything she read only confirmed her growing certainty, but her decision had been made anyhow. She would find a way to reach the shrine. To see it with her own eyes, to confirm what her dreams and the histories whispered. Until then, she knew she would find no peace.
Zelda had missed her mother every day for the past decade, but tonight the ache was sharper than ever. If only she could speak to her now, seek her counsel, ask what to make of these visions. Or to Urbosa, her mother’s dearest friend who had become like a second mother in the years after her passing. But the Gerudo Desert was far away, and Zelda saw her only rarely. For now, she was on her own.
And alone or not, she would face what waited in the dark.
As Link watched the princess pass him by in the corridor, mild concern pulled at him.
He had seen the horror in her eyes when she had jolted awake. He had heard the bloodcurdling terror in her scream. It wasn’t simply shock at awakening to find herself on the battlements. Something else, harder to shake, had been tormenting her. And was still troubling her now. Even fully awake, she carried a tension in her shoulders, a tightness in her breath, as though whatever had frightened her was still following her out of the dream, casting a dark shadow over her.
Everything had changed when she’d laughed, though.
Link grinned sheepishly to himself. While the comment that prompted said laughter had perhaps been an overstep on his part, it had paid off. Princess Zelda’s laughter was a magnetic sound, while the sight of her genuinely smiling was enough to melt even the iciest heart.
He had heard good things about her from those who’d met her; that she was kind, thoughtful, far more down‑to‑earth than most nobles. Now that he had met her himself, he realized they hadn’t exaggerated even a little. Despite the shock she’d just endured, she’d asked for his name, spoken to him as though he were an equal, even tried to make conversation, while her voice still trembled from whatever nightmare had shaken her awake.
Overall, the princess seemed like a kind, approachable person, who was braver than she probably realized. Not to mention, she was also very pretty.
Very, very pretty…
Enough, Link quickly scolded himself. Your duty is to serve and protect her. Nothing more, nothing less. He wasn’t going to fawn over her like an idiot. And he certainly wasn’t going to be like some of the other young recruits, who ogled her behind her back and made foolish wagers over whether they could win her favor. He expected nothing in return for his service, save for the honor and – at present – a modest paycheck.
And if Princess Zelda were ever to notice you?
Well….
He’d be flattered. Immensely flattered. But he knew such affections would ultimately go nowhere. Zelda was the heir to the throne. He, on the other hand, wasn’t even a true knight yet. And that was why he was here. Not to chase princesses (or any girls, for that matter ) but to achieve his life’s ambition of becoming a knight.
Father had never pressured him to follow in his footsteps. In fact, he had always encouraged Link to forge his own path. But Link had only ever had one dream: to be like the man he had looked up to all his life. To serve the kingdom. To protect the people. That was the only future he’d ever envisioned.
Nevertheless, he found himself replaying her smile in his mind more than once during the long night shift.
When 4 AM finally rolled around and Viscen arrived to relieve him of his shift, Link was grateful. He stretched the stiffness from his shoulders and headed for the barracks, eager for rest and ready to be sharp for his next assignment. As he removed his guard’s uniform and got ready for bed, he stole a glance out the window. The light in the north tower, where the princess’s bedchamber was located, was still on.
She’s still awake?
His thoughts drifted to the stack of books she had carried from the library. He wondered what she could be so determined to research. Not that it was any of his business, but still…
The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much harder she had it. As Hyrule's future queen, she had greater power than most would ever wield. But power wasn't the same as freedom, and hers came with responsibility he would never have to carry. His role was to follow orders. Hers was to give them… and to live with the consequences if her judgment failed. Everyone in Hyrule would look to her, and she’d had no choice in the matter. It was the role she was born into, and one she’d carry until the day she died.
With that sobering realization lingering in the back of his mind, Link finally drifted off to sleep.
Meanwhile, the light in Zelda’s window burned all night.
“But Father-”
“Enough, Zelda. The shrine maidens would have consulted me if there were any signs of weakness in the seal. It is their duty to watch over and maintain it, not yours. Don’t think you’re the only one who cares about these matters.”
“But I’m the one getting premonitions!”
“My dear... even if you have indeed inherited the gift of prophecy, that doesn’t mean every bad dream you have is a foretelling of impending doom. You must also consider that you’re going through a time in your life that many young girls find... difficult. With all the physical and mental changes you’re experiencing, it’s not unusual for your sleep to be affected.”
Zelda glared at her father, King Gaepora of Hyrule. Anger bubbled in her chest. He wasn’t listening, had barely lifted his eyes from the paperwork in front of him.
And now he was blaming her premonitions on adolescent hormones, of all things!
It was just like the Imprisoning War. That princess had warned her father about Ganondorf, and he hadn’t listened either. Now history was poised to repeat itself, unless Zelda could somehow convince her own father to take her seriously.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm.
“Please, if you would just let me visit the shrine, I could check the seal myself and confirm whether or not my suspicions are true. If there really is nothing wrong, then no harm will have been done.”
Her father sighed and, at last, set down his papers to look at her properly.
“You know that would be a waste of time. And possibly dangerous. The Yiga Clan has been particularly active lately. If they heard you were planning a trip to some dilapidated shrine in the middle of nowhere, they would rub their hands together. You should be more concerned about themthan some long-defeated sorcerer.”
His tone was stern, though not unkind. “If your dreams are a divine warning, they’re more likely about the Yiga than anything else.”
Zelda shook her head. She knew the Yiga had nothing to do with her visions. They served Ganon. And what her dreams warned of wasn’t Ganon.
“Father, please listen to me. It isn’t the Yiga. It’s Vaati. He’s planning something – I don’t know what, but I need to find out! If I don’t act, he will return, and it will spell disaster for Hyrule!”
To her immense frustration, her father’s gaze softened with concern, as opposed to understanding. His voice turned gently patronizing.
“My dear, you’re clearly under a great deal of stress. I fear that may be my fault – perhaps I’ve overburdened you with too many royal duties too soon. I’ll give you a break from those responsibilities for now, and I’ll speak to the physician about procuring a sleep tonic. You look like you could use a decent night’s rest.”
Zelda knew she looked exhausted. That much was obvious; even she could see it in the mirror. What else could anyone expect when nightmares left her too shaken to sleep? And while she normally would have welcomed time off from her duties, all she wanted right now was for him to listen.
But she knew when she had lost an argument. She nodded and accepted his decision. “Very well, Father. I’m sure you know what is best.” She barely managed to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“Zelda,” the king sighed. “I am not doubting your abilities or your judgment. But there’s a fine line between caution and paranoia. Sometimes, dreams are just dreams.”
His words fell on deaf ears. He doesn’t understand, Zelda thought bitterly. He isn’t the one who sees visions. He doesn’t have the blood of Hylia in his veins.
Apparently mistaking her silence for agreement, the King smiled.
“Now, my dear, why don’t you turn your thoughts to something more pleasant? You should start thinking about what you want to do for your birthday celebration next week.”
Her birthday. Zelda had completely forgotten, her worry over the shrine and her visions having eclipsed everything else. Normally, she looked forward to her birthday. This year, she couldn’t summon an ounce of excitement. It was especially infuriating to have her father dangle it in front of her like some kind of distraction, as if she were a child who could be placated with cake and parties.
Besides… the way things were going, she would count her blessings if she lived to seeit.
As she left the King’s study, she passed Link, who had been assigned to stand guard. She flushed with embarrassment. He had probably overheard the entire spat. So had the servants, most likely. She could only imagine the rumors that would spread now; the princess suffering from delusions, dreaming up long-dead sorcerers. Knowing her luck, she would be the main topic of gossip among them by dinner.
If the seal broke and Vaati escaped, they would all wish they had listened.
But she wasn’t going to wait for that to happen. One way or another, she would go to that shrine and confirm her suspicions. If her father wouldn’t allow it, then she would simply have to sneak out. And already, a plan was taking form in her mind.
Of course, her father would be watching her closely after today’s outburst. She would have to make him believe that she had moved on, that the dreams were forgotten, that she had accepted his judgment.
It weighed on her conscience to deceive him... but this was bigger than that. It was a burden she had to carry, as a daughter of the Royal Family of Hyrule.
Duty bound Princess Zelda tighter than any magical seal, and she wouldn’t be the one to let it fail.