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The blood drained from his face. It could not be...
Why did it have to be that blade? Why did it have to be his child?
"Where did you find that?" He asked, trying to keep the quaver of emotion from his voice. It wasn't his child's fault that the goddesses had a twisted sense of humor. That they saw the light that shined, and thought that it could be forged into Evilsbane itself.
There was a look of confusion for a moment from his child, some detection of the barely contained fury he felt. Why, why, why.
"Oh, um. I found it in the forest--"
"The forest I said that you were to avoid under any circumstance?" He did sound angry now, but it was anger for someone else other than the small one in front of him. He knew it. He should have never agreed to the assignment at this outpost, even though it was only for a few days. A few days to check on the training of Hyrule's soldiers in the chaos that followed the Queen's passing, make sure they were strong enough to protect Hyrule and her people from the Calamity.
Oh Goddesses, the Calamity.
"Papa? Papa? Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" his child, his darling brave, brave, brave baby asked him.
"No, you didn't," he said finally with a sigh. He couldn't fight fate. None of them could. He should have known. Fate didn't care for age. It just needed its soldiers. "Tell me what happened."
"Oh. Um. I would have listened but Atel was lost--"
"Atel?"
"Yeah! Atel, my friend! I would have let you meet them but they said Koroks can't be seen by everyone but I could see them, and they were lost and I wanted to help."
"Koroks. Of course." The forest he said to avoid was named after the mischievous forest spirits. They were supposed to be legends. Of course his child could see them, and of course they would be befriended.
"Uh huh. You said I needed to make friends. Or you said that to Uncle and I overheard you when you thought I wasn't listening. But I made a friend!" There was far too bright a smile given. How long would that light shine so bright? "So I helped Atel get back home when they got lost, and they lived in the forest so we went inside even though you said not to go there and it was a little weird, but I was helping a friend and that is more important, right?"
He sighed. The sword was just as tall as his child, shining blade clutched in between two small arms. It was a wonder no blood was drawn in the journey back, but he doubted such a blade would hurt the Chosen Hero.
His child. Couldn't have been another? Another to carry so heavy a burden. Another that was not so sweet, so kind, and so, so, so brave.
"Yes, you are right, my child. It is important to help your friends."
"And everyone else, too. I want to be like you, papa. I want to save people! The big tree in the forest said that this sword would let me do that. Did you know trees could talk?"
Goddesses. Why did he have to be such an idealist? Why couldn't his child be concerned with normal things like bugs and playing pretend? There were soldiers under his commands that spoke about their children, and how they refused to eat their greens. He always had to make something else up. No other children wandered into the forest and came home with Hinox nails because the monster was getting too close to a village.
They all thought his child too quiet and polite. They did not know any better.
"This tree gave it to you, then?" He asked, kneeling down. The blade also gleamed. So bright.
There was a nod. Then a shake of the head. Then a look of consideration that seemed far too serious for so young a face. "Well, the tree said only a Hero could draw it from the ground. And said I was too young. But Atel still needed help, and I needed something better than a stick. So I took the sword, and it felt really weird..." The small arms hugged the blade even closer, chin resting just above the crossguard. "I got to save Atel. And then I came back here."
Save Atel? Then- "You used the sword?"
Another nod that wasn't quite a nod. "It's really big, but I was able to swing it like you taught me. I think the sword likes me. And it was just a few stalkoblin. Was that bad?"
He learned long ago not to ask what 'a few' meant. It would mean getting more gray hairs from this than he already was. His child using the sword… No, this may be the day he went fully gray.
"You did good to save your friend," he reached out his hand and ruffled the mess of dirty blonde hair, watched as blue eyes beamed with admiration. How did he never see it before? His parents read him the legends, as did many generations leading up to this. He... never read the stories much, not after he lost his wife.
Fate didn't care if the legends or stories were known either, it seemed. It would happen to even the blind.
"I wanted to play with Atel and the other Koroks more. But it was late, and I knew I had to go back home." There was a glance upward to the canvas above. "Well, to the tent because I know you worry. The forest wasn't really that scary."
It was not the monsters in the forest he was afraid of.
"Did anyone else see you?" he asked, returning his hand to his side. He had requested one of the tents near the edge of the outpost, refusing to house in one of the cabins officers normally used. He knew his child would find a way out to explore, and it was better to have fewer chances to have any questions asked.
He thought he had done enough to stop this.
Did he always know then? How long did he think he could outrun Fate. To have a few more innocent years as father and child. He knew. He knew. He knew. He was a soldier, a protector, a father. Why couldn't he just be the last? Why, why, why.
There was a longer pause, before there was a motion that was mostly a head shake. "Uuuh, there was Atel and the other Koroks. And the grumpy tree. That's it." Then another grin. "And the stalkoblin, but I got them all so they don't count."
Thank the goddesses as much as he cursed them. He would not know what to do with rumors of the sword being held by a child, and the panic that would cause. The queen was too soonly passed, the mourning still fresh. Would people think the Calamity was nigh? What would happen with the Princess?
Why did they all place such a heavy weight on the shoulders of children?
"Can I see the sword?" he asked. He would do all that he could to bare that burden.
There was a look of indecisiveness from his child, before the pommel was extended toward him. "Be careful, papa," the small voice said.
He wrapped his hands around the grip and it felt... wrong. It was like reaching towards the brush and spotting a snake, ready to strike. And it felt heavy-- far too heavy for a child of six years to swing around with enough ease to vanquish several monsters.
Chosen Hero.
"The tree was right. It is a good blade." It took all his will power to not take the sword there, to find a way to cast it into the river, to make it nothing more than a sour memory than a set of shackles, a condemnation to a life of…
Would it be suffering? His child would not call it that. Not one so bright, whose glow would grow with each life saved until it was too much. Until it would all burn out.
"Do you think it will make me a Hero?"
He was a soldier. A protector.
A servant to Hyrule, and her Goddesses.
But he was also a father.
"You need to put it back."
"But papa—"
"Put it back and forget you found it." He found himself gripping the handle of the blade even tighter. "The blade… is a curse."
He just wanted a few more years. That was it. Was that too much to ask? It was not a lie, Hylia forgive him. It was not a lie. It was not a lie.
The eyes of his child seemed to dim. Was that the cost, then? Did he need to find a thousand small ways to hide that light, a thousand half truths to keep it safe? It was damnation no matter what he did.
"I… just wanted to help."
He gripped the sword again. It bore such a heavy weight. "You have done very well to help your friend. But not with this blade. This is the right thing to do now." He reached forward again, ruffling the hair more gently. There was no answering smile back.
"I'm sorry."
There was nothing to be sorry for, how he wished to say that, to shout it, so loud that the heavens would hear. There were only the goddesses to curse. It should be them to apologize. But his child did not need to know that. "We will bring it back to the forest in the morning. To where it belongs." He would refuse all visitors until then, let them know his child was ill, but it should be better by tomorrow. He would go with his child into the mysterious forest, and have a talk with this tree, and it would all be fine. It had to be fine. He had to try. "I trust you to be brave enough to get me back to where you found it?"
There was a nod that further ruffled his child's hair under his hand. He brought the small head in for a hug, making sure the sword remained off to the side. Did it grow even heavier, so far from the one meant to wield it?
"And after… I think it is time we make a stop back at Zora's Domain. We can visit your friend there."
There was an excited jolt at this, and he let his child pull away from him. The grin was back, as was the light. "Mipha? I can tell her my new name!"
The sword felt like it was almost burning in his grasp.
"You have decided on one?"
He already knew what it was. He never read the stories to his child, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter, it would have always been this way, always. Could he truly do so little?
The goddesses must be laughing. He just wanted to be a father. A good father.
But he was a soldier. A protector. A servant to Hylia.
"Uh-huh! I came up with it in the forest. My name is…"
The Chosen Hero.
His brave, brilliant child.
Shining so bright.
Link.