World Tree MUSH

  The higher the party ascends up the mountain, the more savage the conditions get. Days ago the treeline vanished. The world has since been coloured in monochrome. Even the blue of the sky is a rarity. Most days are never so clear as that. Not in the season of storms.

  Route markers appeared near to where the treeline faded away. These massive metal posts, capped with banners in bright red and blazoned with the claw-like sigil of the Gorons, have guided generations of travellers. Most times the road can't even be distinguished. Only the way-markers have pointed the way. They were built, the princess had explained for the benefit of the foreigners, in her royal grandmother's day. The Gorons were strong allies of the royal family.

  It's been an exhausting day of following markers through swirling snow. The wind has been too strong to talk, pushing against the travellers' ascent, slowing them and sapping their strength. As before, the princess has chosen to walk beside her rescued horse, coaxing and soothing him through difficult trails.

  For the past several hours of hiking, even the violent-minded creature had seemed too tired to fuss, head drooping steadily lower beneath his load. How the princess found the strength to soldier on is anyone's guess, but she has, somehow managing to place one foot in front of the other. There's been a fever-brightness to her eyes for the past two days, though she's seemed healthy otherwise. Maybe it's that goddess she's mentioned occasionally.

  Still, the princess hasn't complained, even though she's definitely not made for this kind of thing. Not a word has passed her lips. There's been a grim determination about her for the past few days, the closer they get to Snowpeak's ruins.

  As a result the instant they struck camp Zelda had seen to the horses, helped prepare some soup, eaten some, and fallen insensate into her bedroll.

  It's a little after midnight. Following routine, this is about the time of night she usually wakes. There's no telling what the cause is, but she's suffered terrible nightmares since Kaipo. Maybe it's a chronic thing. Sometimes she wakes in silence, sometimes she jerks awake with a strangled sound. Sometimes she can be heard making a soft sound in her sleep -- stifled weeping, if one listens very closely. Yet she gives no sign of it by morning, carrying on gamely.

  Apparently she woke in silence, tonight, for the princess is crouched beside the fire, patiently stirring it back to life to heat a pot of water for tea. It had seemed like a luxury when she'd bought it before leaving Kaipo, but up here on the mountain, having a hot drink has seemed a lifesaver. The princess has also been pouring something a little stronger in there, occasionally. Smells like whisky. Not quite enough to get drunk; just a little investment against the cold.

  For now, though, the fire proves stubborn. The Hylian shivers as she stirs the embers with a long flamescarred branch, patiently prodding coals around until they can be coaxed to light the softer wood atop it. She doesn't seem to be having much luck, though, and the longer it takes her to get the fire back to life, the harder she shivers.

  Privately, she's beginning to loathe this mountain already.

    Mountain trips are often really bothersome for a number of reasons. Cecil is pretty miserable too, going from temperate Baron to the heat of Kaipo, and now in the altitude of the peaks with the cold freezing through his armor, and past the layers of clothing.

    Cecil is still here though, hanging on. Someone also needs to keep watch! The scent of brewing tea has either brought him over, or awakened him from his light sleep, but he's wearing less of his armor now. Moving close to the fire, this can make his face look... well, less sinister than the armored one!

    "Trouble sleeping?" He states the obvious.

  Eventually, the log finally catches, the barest blue flames licking at the base of the logs. With a bit of stubborn and determined prodding, the princess manages to coax it into a yellow fire, palpably warmer. It's only then that she sags back with a sigh she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

  It's with a stifled yelp -- she actually claps a hand over her mouth in frightened shock to keep from waking the others -- that Zelda notices she's not alone. "M-Merciful Hylia," the princess hisses, more startled than angry. "Hello, Sir C-Cecil."

  Zelda sags back yet again, automatically preparing a second cup for the Dark Knight. Something hot to drink helps make nights at the campfire bearable. It's clear, tonight, the incessant howling winds fading into silence, but the sky is all the more colder for its clarity. The miserable little alcove in a cliff face they'd found to camp in doesn't offer all that much warmth to begin with.

  Wrapping her hooded robe around herself more firmly, the princess shivers through her reply. "If the g-goddesses choose to s-send me these n-nightmares, then it m-must be with a r-reason in mind. I can only s-surmise they are trying to t-tell me something."

  In other words, yeah, horrible nightmares, the usual. She may not have had her village burnt down around her, but Zant had still swept in and initiated an extremely hostile takeover.

  In the few moments of clarity on the road, they had been able to look to the southeast, and spied the sickly orange cast to the air; the rising embers even so far dsitant, where the Twilight spreads like a blight.

  She had stared for a long moment at it before turning her back, and marching up the mountain on some kind of hidden reserve of strength. She had not spoken for an hour after that, and anyone who had drawn even with her had seen she had been struggling to hold her composure together.

  Now she's just drawn and tired.

  "B-but that does not m-make it any easier t-to endure, sometimes," she sighs, at last. There's a pause as she pours two cups of tea, before carefully hanging the iron pot back on its hook. "Have you also had t-trouble sleeping, Sir C-Cecil?"

  She studies him as she offers him a cup, head tilting just slightly. There are shadows under her eyes, and her eyes themselves seem just a little bright, a little glassy; but there's no denying the lucidity in them... and a flicker of sorrow, her sudden smile apologetic. "I am sorry. Please b-bear with me just for a few d-days more. I kn-know it is very cold. I feel it, t-too."

    "It is," says Cecil without any teeth chattering. Is he immune to the cold! He's even removing his gloves! Yet a few moments later, he's briskly rubbing his hands together and scooting closer to the fire. No, not immune to the cold, he's simply not the kind of person who has chattering teeth when he's cold. The fire is more than welcome.

    Offering a cup of tea is better. Cecil scoots in to take it, nursing it for now so he can let it cool. "I often have trouble sleeping, but tonight I was merely awake," he explains. "I think that as much as my conscience might weigh on me for what happened, I worry more about Kain and Rydia, and that keeps me from nightmares for my own sake."

    He holds the tea up and just breathes in the steam and aroma at first. "The signs of trouble are more obvious in your world than mine," he finally notes. "I hope that this is not a harbinger of what will happen in mine. But if so that just makes it even more important to help you stop this."

  Despite the fierce determination Zelda harbours for the challenges before her, it's clear that she isn't made to go mountain-climbing. She is fragile despite her refusal to complain. Her teeth chatter when she's critically cold, and she's been critically cold halfway up the mountain.

  All the same, she refuses to complain. Not once up this mountain has she offered a word of complaint or self-pity, aside from her quiet apprehension over the fate of her people. It's always outward that the princess looks. She must be a good leader, or at least an attentive one.

  It's always her people that Zelda thinks of, rather than herself. Plenty of royals would have just vanished into the wilderness after this mess had befallen the kingdom. Instead, this one prepares to walk into the fire; to challenge an opponent she knows she can't beat. To climb mountains. To assault monster-infested ruins for want of a base of operations.

  Zelda scoots just a little closer to the fire, shivering in her hooded cloak, listening to the Dark Knight's observations and explanations. She hasn't yet met Kain, but knowing what she knows of Rydia suggests to her that Kain must also have experienced some kind of difficult situation.

  Her gaze softens as she looks to the fire, though it's still just a little too glassy. Does she need more sleep? Probably. She seems too lucid to be feverish, though, and too cold besides.

  "I am s-sorry for your losses. All of you," Zelda clarifies, regarding Cecil levelly, blue eyes solemn and just a little sorrowful. "I do not know the full situation, and it is not my place to ask. But I kn-know that even though I do not know who 'Kain' is, I know that you have all suffered terrible agony, in your own ways."

  She looks to the fire again. At least she seems to be warming up, stammering a little less. A flicker of frustration chases itself across exhausted but regal features; vanishes in the shadows of firelight. "Would that I did not suffer them. I cannot bear to be seen as weak, Sir Cecil. Now more than ever. I must be strong, and confident, as a queen ought. We draw ever closer to Snowpeak..." Her voice softens, just a shade above a whisper. "I have not yet told the others, but even here I can feel corruption seething further up the mountain."

  "I had hoped the usurper's reach was not so far, but I was mistaken. We are committed. It is far too late to turn back. We cannot but go forward... there is nothing to be done but for me to pray that I have the strength to banish this corruption; this evil, whatever aura of the Twilight it is that taints the mountain." She laughs, very softly. "I doubt that I have the strength, knowing what I know of the Twilight. Yet I am helpless but to try."

  "My people call these mountains the roof of the world. They are visible from nearly any place in Hyrule, even if far distant. It is not one singular peak, but a chain of them, wrapping 'round the northwestern quarter of the kingdom like a lover's embrace... they are cruel lovers, full of coldness and scorn, yet beautiful, all the same, for their harshness." She sips at her tea, with a faint little smile. "Fitting, then, that this place may be my grave. I had never been here before, but I suppose I can cross that one off the list, yes?"

  Another sip of tea and she wraps delicate fingers around the warmth of the cup. "Have I told you, Sir Cecil, what my connection is to all of this?" She gestures with one hand, as though to indicate everything around them; the entirety of the kingdom. "I suppose it has little bearing, considering you are already here and have sworn your sword to my service -- which, I might add, that I am grateful for and humbled by."

    Cecil chuckles, but it's a dark and humorless chuckle. "We all have our hardships, and we should know that. Perhaps that is why we work together with so little trouble, yes? We have a shared goal of alleviating these hardships, all for one another's sake. There are worse ways to found a group," he muses.

    Staring at the fire, Cecil shakes his head. "I know you are a servant of the people, that much is obvious. In my way, so am I. That is not why I am so ready to help you, but I think that it lets you understand why I must do this." He taps the sword. "This blade... I mastered its evil as a service to my kingdom, and now it can serve yours. It... helps, I think, to have a noble cause to give it some worth. My doubts about what happened with my own kingdom have shaken them, so this..."

    He sighs. "I am not gladdened by your predicament, but I am happy to be of use here. Somehow. And I can only hope my own journey to find answers will not be quite so uncomfortable or so far afield."

    Good luck with that, moon man.

  "Yes. Not only that, but we are each of us willing to lay down our lives for the other, despite only having known one another for a few scant weeks." Zelda allows herself a faint flicker of a smile. "There is something to be said for that."

  The princess turns her eyes back to the fire, sliding half-closed until she regards it through a veil of dark blonde lashes. "I am a servant of my people," the young monarch agrees. "However, it runs much deeper than that. Even the most learned among my own people do not remember the truth."

  "I carry in my veins the blood of the Goddess Hylia. All women of the royal line do. Her Grace fought the ancient evil before Hyrule was Hyrule, and she invested in her direct descendants the power to fight that evil, wherever it might surface, for even she could not destroy it but only seal it." Zelda's eyes are grave as she looks into the fire, and a great deal older and more tired than her twenty-two years. "I fear that that evil has surfaced once more."

  "That is why I can sense the corruption that seethes upon the mountaintop," Zelda murmurs. "I am drawn to it as a moth before the flame. As Her Grace was helpless to turn a blind eye toward the suffering of her chosen people, so too am I helpless to turn a blind eye toward evil, where it may threaten my kingdom and my people."

  "Not you, mind. I do not mean offense." She smiles, faintly, but the expression is humourless and a little melancholy. "I am sorry that you must find joy of purpose in such dangerous work. I fear the thing on the mountain is beyond my means. I can but pray this errant aura of the Twilight is within my power to destroy." Zelda's tone hackles a little; sharpening, offering a faint glimpse of the righteous indignation lurkingjust beneath the surface. "The closer we draw to it, the less I can ignore the fire in my blood; the /need/ to destroy that aura, that /thing/ the usurper has loosed upon my world. It has no place in Hyrule."

  She sighs, calming. "Still, if that is the case, I shall pray that the Author of Law in Her wisdom provide you with the answers you seek." Zelda offers a lopsided smile. "I commend your courage. And I hope that whatever answers you reach are satisfying."

    Rubbing his chin, Cecil muses... then lowers his hands to warm then by the fire. Briskly rubbing them together, he listens and considers, then nods his head. "That is a heavy burden," he decides. Even if she only believes that is true, backed up by her powers, it would then be a burden she put on herself. Cecil is inclined to give the benefit of the doubt.

    "And no offense is taken," he replies concerning the darkness she senses. "Mastering the dark blade comes at a heavy price, I know. It has its... down sides." A flicker of doubt, and the young man shakes his head. "But evil, true evil, should be stopped. We agree on that. And perhaps in this expedition I can find a way to help my own world, somehow. I feel like... it may be useful to divert from the obvious path."

    That's the only way to get the best treasures, it's true.

  For her part, the princess pulls the cloak around her shoulders, shivering despite the fire. Maybe she's just cold. That wouldn't be surprising, considering how punishingly hard she's been pushing herself, fragile as she seems. She's more a scholar than an adventurer in physique. Yet her people need her.

  "I will not lie and say that it is not a heavy burden, Sir Cecil. I respect you too much to lie in such an insulting way." Zelda smiles wanly. "It would be especially unfair to you; you who have seen me at my weakest, and most vulnerable. It is not a burden I bear lightly. But... I will endure. I must be strong, for the sake of my people. I will banish this darkness, and in so doing, fulfill my ancient role as Hyrule's protector as Her Grace once did."

  She dips her chin slightly at his thoughts on the nature of evil, or true evil. Her eyes drift until they're nearly closed, but not quite; mere suggestions of reflected light veiled by chestnut lashes. "Mmm. Perhaps. And once I have gained a foothold from which to plan the liberation of my kingdom, I would like to help you with your own world's troubles. Hyrule, and its queen, are at your service."

  "Sometimes reflection is necessary. It shows us paths we would not have thought of, otherwise." She smiles, tiredly. "I pray to my goddesses regularly for guidance. It is my duty to pray to them for blessings for the people on their behalf. Yet I seek their guidance in personal matters, too. Those who bear the Triforce of Wisdom often have prophetic dreams. My royal grandmother was said to hear their voices. I've never heard them... but I do have dreams that are unusual, and often seem to prove true in some form or another."

  She takes a stick, poking at the embers. When she speaks again her voice is a little quieter. "My dreams have been strange and fearful of late." The nightmares that disrupt her sleep are no secret, even if she bears them as quietly as she can; even if she carries herself with quiet dignity during the waking hours. "I fear I stand on the crux of something far greater than myself. Of something that may be greater even than Hyrule... but I do not know what."

    Cecil is a good listener, but a poor talker. He listens and nods, folding his hands before him to rest his chin upon them. He almost closes his eyes as well... thoughtfully, rather than tiredly. It's hard to sleep with the thoughts going through his head right now. "Mmm."

    Once Zelda finishes, he finally comes to a decision on what to say. Cecil lowers his hands and nods again. "That is ominous... perhaps. In linking with these other realms, the dangers have unfolded more greatly. The Adept Slayer, Vivian's plans, the wild machines of Aloy's world... so many new threats to consider, on top of our own problems."

    He smiles. "But... you and I have new allies too. Larger problems, but more friends to help with them. Rydia, Aloy, Yumi..." He glances toward where the girl sleeps. "Once she's had some more training, at least. She's a little too raw for me to want to see her in danger yet, but it's her own choice to come. So..."

    He straightens. "It may be that your dreams are warning you of changes to come, but we have to hope that changes are not disaster."

  "Perhaps," the princess agrees, tiredly. "Neither can I rule out that they are simply a sign that things are merely as they should be. Dreams are fickle things." Her equally tired smile is a little apologetic. "I fear my royal grandmother was much better at deciphering them than I am. My dreams may be prophetic, but that does not always mean I can understand them, or what the goddesses are telling me."

  Zelda prods at the coals with a little more force than necessary. Embers swirl skyward, winking out as they rise. She watches them, setting the stick aside. "Mmm. That is true. The Adept-Slayer is what worries me the most, at the moment. I can only pray that he has forgotten about Hyrule in the presence of other, more attractive targets. My people wield magic," she whispers, "though of a very different sort than my own. That marks them as targets of his. And they do not have the direct protection of the goddesses. Even with that, it was nearly the end of me, and I was most likely moments from death when Rydia found me."

  Summer-blue eyes slide sidelong when he looks to the sleeping girl, following his gaze to watch Yumi. There's a touch of guilt, but also protectiveness and warmth; a kind of maternal love. Zelda can't resist hard-luck cases, and not knowing who you are is pretty hard-luck by her book. In its own way it's a horrifying fate. Yumi's also shown herself as a good-hearted person, and such upstanding moral character is enough to earn the princess' fierce loyalty.

  "Yes. She is not yet suited to a life like ours. Someday, I believe she will be, but not yet. I would not have even asked her along, if not for urgent need. She is able to keep our little expedition supplied in a way that I cannot." Zelda smiles, apologetically. "I must remain hidden. It is critical that the usurper not know that we are, ah, 'moving in' to Snowpeak's ruins. That I am still in Hyrule. I do not harbour any illusions that if he learns of my location, after I have escaped him, that he will not settle for mere capture. He will kill me if he can. And I do not doubt that he can make it so."

  She looks to the fire, but the set of her eyes suggests she's anxious as much as she is determined. "I intend to challenge him, but not until I have found the appropriate leverage to wield against him. I know of something that will serve admirably as such leverage. However, I cannot wield it. I must ask it of Link. He bears the spirit of the hero, come to save Hyrule from its darkest hour, as preordained by the goddesses. He is the favoured child of Farore, the Goddess of Courage. To take an active role in righting Hyrule's wrongs in times of crisis have ever been the dominion of the Chosen Hero, just as the Bearer of Wisdom has always served as his guide."

  "But I am not ready. He is not ready. And I would not ask that of him so soon. His fate is my doing; the curse that transforms him was brought about by my actions. The Twilight King... he took my kingdom by surprise, and devastated its defenses." Her hand curls into a loose fist, tightening gradually until her nails bite into her palms. The fist trembles slightly. "Thus, when he stormed Hyrule Castle, my royal guardsmen were scattered like broken ragdolls. Murdered. He even overpowered me in a contest of magic... and I surrendered, goddesses help me, so he would not cut my people down like wheat before the scythe. We are beaten and we are broken, but we are still alive, and where there is life, there is hope."

  She sits back and regards the fire critically. "My dreams. Hm. I do not know. I will have to consult my goddesses, and appeal to the Author of Law to lend me Her clarity and wisdom."

    Again, Cecil answers with a mere head motion. This time, it is a shake of the head, though. "I think the situation demands you be careful, but take the help you can get. I wouldn't take Rydia with me either, but... well. Have you tried telling her no?" At least that gets a wry grin from him. It fades quickly though.

    "In harsh times, we can only work with what we have, and hope that is enough. I only hope that I am not too late for my own world's problems." He scratches the back of his head with a frustrated sigh, but then perks up with something that Zelda says.

    "He may not be in the form that we can easily interact, but Link is at least able to fight and help. And with all of us, perhaps taking this as a foothold here will help all of us. It would be good to have a... 'home' of sorts while we plan our next move."

    He picks up the tea and drains it, then sets it down. "You should try to get some more sleep. Tomorrow is a long day again, and my own shift at watch will be ending soon. If not for yourself, for me. Think of the tongue lashing Rydia will give us both if she discovers we were up all night talking."

  "It would be both foolish and irresponsible of me to behave without caution," Zelda agrees. "I intend to approach carefully. We will camp a short distance away from the ruins when we reach them and scout the area. Given how long the estate has been abandoned, we must remain vigilant; monsters may have made the structure their home."

  She glances back to the sleepers near the other side of the fire when Cecil suggests telling Rydia no. Zelda shakes her head, smiling ruefully. "I am wise enough to choose my battles, Sir Cecil." In other words, no she hasn't, it doesn't take a Triforce of Wisdom to know how that'll pan out.

  Drawing her knees up to her chest, the princess wraps her arms around them, resting her chin over her crossed arms and letting her eyes droop nearly closed. "Yes, he can do that much. When we are arrived in Snowpeak and have secured the area, I intend to exercise my powers to their fullest, and see if I might lift his curse. I do not think I have the strength to permanently lift it, but perhaps I might offer him relief for a day or two, if the effort is not too dangerous."

  A home. She smiles, once more a little ruefully. "It is not my home, but it will do for the time being. It will give me a place from which to clear the vermin from /my/ home." Straightening, Zelda takes her own tea, draining the cup. "Yes. I..."

  "I am... exhausted." There's enough hesitation before it to suggest she doesn't even really want to admit it, but it's patently obvious. There's absolutely no hiding the way she feels when it impacts her ability to function. "Thank you, Sir Cecil," she offers, a little more quietly. "Truly. I was uncertain about you, at first, when I felt what was in that blade. But I have never been more glad to have my instincts proven wrong."

  "I will rest when we have arrived. Until then, I must seek the counsel of my goddesses, when we have reached our final campsite before we enter the ruins, and I must prepare myself to cleanse whatever evil it is that crouches amidst Snowpeak's tumbledown walls and frozen shadows." Zelda smiles, distantly. "I will content myself with preparation and prayer, instead of rushing headlong to meet it, as the divinity in my blood boils to do."

  Climbing to her feet, the princess inclines her head in respectful gesture to Cecil. "Thank you, Sir Cecil. For everything. You are a good soul, no matter the thing in that blade of yours. I am glad to have an ally like you. Good night, and may the goddesses watch over you."

  With that, she pads back over to her corner of the fire, buries herself in the fur-lined bedroll, and curls up. It's a long while before her breathing actually does slow into the rhythm of sleep, though.

    Cecil nods his head again, but this time it is a bow. Not just in respect to Zelda's station, but a general bow of acknowledgement and thanks. Without taking offense at the comment on his blade, he smiles. "I do my best to do what is right. Perhaps... I don't always succeed, but then that is why we continue to improve." He sighs, looking down at the blade with mixed thoughts in his expression.

    Enough. When there's a good suggestion to go to bed, he should take it. "We will be victorious because we have no other option, at this point," he points out. We should both rest. We will need our energy. I will wake the next watch in a few minutes and sleep myself. Good night, your Majesty."

    He doesn't use that title often. In fact, this is the first time. The smile says that he won't be doing so often after, either. It's a simple means of him saying he understands why she is doing this.