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Zelda, Winterhold

The College was both more and less than Zelda had been expecting.

Hyrule, despite being steeped in magic and legend, had vanishingly few of what Tamriel would call mages. The Sheikah had their own magical traditions, and the Royal Family passed the ancient knowledge down each generation, but outside of that magic users were typically limited to the Sages and their descendants. Powers and abilities tied to bloodlines--the Zora had two separate families, one that healed and one that could control the water as an extension of themselves. The Gorons, every few generations, would produce someone with an unbreakable barrier at their command, and then ones blessed by the Fairies could sprout metal spikes after rolling at sufficient speed.

Among Hylians? Zelda could remember a handful of self-taught witches and no others. Magic was a gift from the spirits or the product of an artifact.

To see and become part of a community dedicated to the study of magic was new, something she had never experienced before. And the College was filled with enchantments for a variety of purposes. The Arcaneum was spelled to preserve and protect the books contained within; Zelda was certain that even she would be hard-pressed to damage a book as long as it was still on the shelf. The odd glowing fountains that lined the bridge seemed to be purely decorative, but were no less intriguing for it. And learning how the enchantment tables worked to ease the process--and, and the Hall of the Elements! The fountain in the center was a pool of liquid magicka, apparently designed to make spellcasting easier within its walls, to better facilitate learning! It was a shame that that enchantment appeared broken, but what she could still feel of it gave her so many ideas.

And yet, the College was smaller than it appeared, with fewer students than she’d imagined.

“I swear, there are more instructors here than students,” Zelda said, pulling a book with a shimmering gold cover off the shelf. A glance at the cover page told her it was an instructional tome for a Ward spell. She tucked it under her arm. “Three of them are newcomers as well, all of them having joined in the past year. There are two older students, but from what I’ve seen so far they’re mostly involved in their own projects… not that I can tell what they are.” A red book jumped out at her, with the title Reality & Other Falsehoods. She grabbed it as well.

“That’s strange. I wonder what the teachers do all day,” Link said.

Zelda was currently wearing the Gossip Charm around her neck while she spoke with Link. It had been a few days since she’d joined the College, and she was still settling in. It had been equal parts enjoyable and frustrating so far, and she needed to talk to someone about it.

“They take turns giving lectures to whoever shows up. There’s a schedule in the library; each of the instructors gives a lesson on a different day of the week, with Sundas left open. I think it’s meant to go to an Alchemy teacher, but they don’t have one.” She took a seat at an open table and cracked open the spell tome. Nayru’s Love was a powerful shield, but she couldn’t attack while it was being used; Tamriel’s wards largely didn’t share that weakness.

“Bit of an oversight. Maybe I should send my resume.”

“I’m surprised you even know that word,” Zelda teased, scanning the pages. Restoration magic looked visually a lot like her own native powers; perhaps they were similar in nature as well? “Besides, you’re busy with your own thing. Speaking of, how is that going?”

“Pretty good, actually,” Link said, good cheer coming through in his voice. “You’d get along well with Avrusi, I think. After I showed her how to disarm the bomb flowers she started talking about dissecting them, trying to find alchemical uses for them… I think she was looking forward to the challenge. The guard on her farm looked nervous, it was hilarious.”

“Do you think she’ll be able to grow them?”

“I’ve got a good feeling. She really seemed to know what they were doing, so I gave her all my remaining bombs to experiment with.”

“Is that wise?”

“Well, you know. I only had, what, seven? Yeah. If no one can grow them, then I’d just be sitting on them forever, scared to use them ‘just in case.’ Better they go to someone who can do something with them.”

Zelda beamed, not that he could see it. “I’m pleasantly surprised, Link! I would have thought you’d be more stubborn with your hoarding problem.”

“I don’t have a hoarding problem. I need all this stuff. Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “I left the farm and went back to traveling with Farkas. We’re nearly at his job, so I should probably go soon.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” Zelda said, hiding her disappointment. “Call again soon, Link.”

“Will do, Princess. See ya.”

The stone dimmed, and Zelda sighed.

“That’s a nifty bit of enchantment there,” the librarian said, and Zelda jumped. The old orc, Urag gro-Shub, was leaning on his counter with a dull glare. “You make it yourself?”

“Oh, no,” she replied, tucking it back under her robes. “It’s an old, old family heirloom.”

“Hmph.” The orc snorted. “Well, as fascinating as it is, I’m going to ask you to keep your voice down. This is a library, and people are trying to work.”

Zelda looked around. They were the only two people there at the moment.

“I mean me,” he clarified. “I’m trying to work. And it’s my library and I make the rules. Read, but quietly.”

“Yes, sir.”

Urag grumbled, then went back to sorting returns.

He was gruff, but Zelda actually liked him. He was good at his job and kept a tight ship, which she respected.

Returning her focus to the tome, she tried again to bring up magicka, rather than her own innate magic. She was certain that was what the problem was, with her failed summoning. Most of the problem, anyway. Zelda could feel magicka, certainly, and after a few weeks living in Skyrim she could sense a pool of it building up inside of her. But despite the similarities her magic and magicka didn’t want to mix, and there was so much of the former that it overpowered the latter when she tried to use a spell.

She tried the ward spell anyway. It formed the shield as expected, but it was a glowing gold instead of the shimmering blue the book described.

“Hey! No magic in the Arcaneum!” Urag snapped. “I don’t care if it’s just a ward!”

“Sorry, Mr. Urag.”

Hm. She could form the right shape and function, but her own power kept coloring it differently. She wondered if that effect would extend to Destruction? A golden icicle would be quite interesting if it held true.

…it would also serve as an effective psychological weapon, if her opponents saw it coming and made the obvious conclusion.

An impish smile grew across her face and Zelda stood to go out to the balconies. That required testing. “Mr. Urag, do you have an Ice Spike spell tome on hand?”

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Jo’kir, Ivarstead

Training with the Greybeards had been an enlightening experience.

“Ah, there you are,” Klimmek said, approaching them as they crossed the bridge. “I was starting to get worried. Mountain didn’t give you too much trouble, did it?”

“More than we expected,” Lydia said, after Jo’kir didn’t immediately respond. “How do you usually deal with the Ice Wraiths and frost trolls?”

The older man’s eyes widened. “The what? They were on the path? I’ve seen the wraiths on the cliffs before, but they’ve never attacked or even come close before.”

“Well there were monsters all over the Steps,” the housecarl confirmed.

“I see…” Klimmek muttered thoughtfully. “Skyrim’s critters have been awfully restless, recently… Well, I feel like I should pay you a little more for the trouble, then.” He handed her a bag of septims, then counted out a few more from his pockets. “Seven hundred should be good.”

“Sir,” Lydia began. She looked over her shoulder, but her Thane was still looking out over the river, not paying attention to the conversation. “Are you sure that’s not too much? Ivarstead isn’t exactly wealthy.”

He shoved the bag into her hands. “Please. I make decent coin and I spend very little. Take it for your troubles.”

“If you insist.” They parted ways respectfully and Lydia walked back over to Jo’kir. “My Thane, our payment.”

“Hm? Oh, yes.” He swiped a hand over the bag and half the coins vanished into thin air. “There is your half, yes.”

Lydia blinked, incredulous, but the Khajiit was already staring off into space again. She frowned and tied off the bag’s neck before securing it around her belt. “My Thane, Jo’kir, are you alright?”

“Oh yes, yes. This one is very excited, yes, that is all.” He turned to face her, smiling. “Dragon language, Lydia! A way of magic I’ve never even heard of, and if the Greybeards’ explanation was well understood, one with limitless possibilities!”

Lydia remembered. The Greybeards had taken them outside to teach the Dragonborn some word that allowed him to jump many yards forward in the blink of an eye, and had been nearly as impressed as she was that he mastered it so quickly. Then the weather had started to turn, and the pair had ended up staying another night at High Hrothgar until it was safe to journey back down.

With the extra time, the Dragonborn had asked the sages many questions that Master Arngeir had been happy to answer. Initially he hadn’t wanted to teach him any more words of power, but in the face of the Khajiit’s pestering he had eventually caved. Wahl, the first word of the Shout Arngeir had used to fix the pots. Hahkun, because of Jo’kir’s preferred weapon; and Kaaz. The last one, on being told the meaning, had annoyed her Thane. Apparently dragons didn’t make a distinction between Khajiit and unintelligent, animal cats.

He had told Jo’kir what the words meant, but hadn’t done the whole… mystic knowledge thing that Lydia barely understood.

“Growing your gift too quickly could be dangerous,” Arngeir said. “Meditate on these words and their meanings, and what they mean to you. Perhaps understanding will come more quickly for you than it does us.”

The alternative of course was hunting dragons for their knowledge, Lydia knew.

“Which word do you plan to focus on, Thane?” she asked.

“WAHL, of course.” The way he said the word was different compared to the Greybeards. Lydia lacked the vocabulary to describe how; she was no poet. “To build and to create…” His eyes were almost sparkling. “I suppose HAHKUN would be more immediately useful, as this one suspects that bolstering one’s axe will aid in the coming battles he will no doubt be made to face…”

He broke off into muttering too low for Lydia to hear. She waited politely for him to trail off into silence, then cleared her throat to get his attention. “I am glad that you have gained so much from this, my Thane.”

“Yes, much indeed.”

“Where are we going next?” The Greybeards, once their testing was complete, had given the Dragonborn a final task to prove his worthiness: to retrieve a horn from the Tomb of Jurgen Windcaller, the founder of their order. Lydia would follow her Thane to the ends of the world, as was expected… though she had a feeling. “I suspect you do not intend to retrieve the Horn immediately.”

He looked away, embarrassed. “Ah, in fact no. While completing the sages’ task is undoubtedly important… Jo’kir came to Skyrim to learn magic. The Thu’um is incredible, but it would not do to neglect the…” He frowned. “Traditional? Methods? The Thu’um is ancient enough to be tradition. Conventional? Yes, that sounds better.”

Lydia grimaced. “I do not wish to doubt you, my Thane--”

“This one is almost certain you are older than him. Please do not treat me as though I am wise.”

“--but I have concerns about the dragons,” she said, as if he hadn’t spoken. “You are the only one who can kill them, and Shouting is a powerful tool against them.”

“Aha.” Jo’kir raised a finger. “Yes, this is true, possibly. But as Khajiit has already proven by killing dragon before summons, Khajiit does not need to pass test to kill dragons. And he will learn more Shouts over time regardless of how he spends that time. The test of the Greybeard will not go anywhere, yes?”

“I suppose…” It didn’t sit well with her, really. Leaving a job unfinished went against her nature. But her Thane was the one in charge. And Jo’kir was neither a Nord nor a warrior; his ways were not hers, and she would respect that. “Where are we going next, then?”

“To Jo’kir’s original destination before all this dragon nonsense.” He frowned, looking at her with mild confusion. “Has he not said? We go to the College of Winterhold.”

Lydia’s face turned stony. “...to Winterhold?” she asked weakly.

“Yes.”

“...Would it be too much trouble to go back by Whiterun before heading north?” she asked, pointedly not pleading. “We’ll need to get thicker clothing if we plan on staying there for any length of time.”

“You do not need to come if you do not wish,” Jo’kir offered. “Up to you.” He looked down at himself and pulled at his clothes. “Are these not sufficient? The mountain’s top was uncomfortable but not unbearable.”

“The Throat was cold,” Lyudia agreed. “But Winterhold can get even colder during the summer.” And it was currently near the end of Hearthfire, the second month of autumn.

Jo’kir ran a hand through his fur, looking even paler than usual. “...Perhaps Farengar knows a fur-lengthening spell…”

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Zelda, Winterhold

Good news, and bad news. The bad news was that the ice produced by her Destruction practice was still clear blue. However, good news, the golden aura of her magic could make it look yellow if she twisted it just right. She almost wanted to go bandit-hunting, just to see the look on some poor criminal’s face when he thought she was throwing around frozen--

“That’s an amazing idea. I almost want to drop everything and go join you, just to see that happen.”

“Thank you,” Zelda said smugly. “I am hilarious, aren’t I?”

“...” His silence was audible through the stone. “...anyway.”

“What do you mean ‘anyway?’ I’m funny, right Link?”

“Turns out Farkas’ pest control job got a little out of hand. One of the giant rats was even more giant than they’re supposed to be, and I had to help him fight it off.”

Zelda pouted. “Link, answer the question.”

“The owner’s husband has gone missing, too, since they posted the job. She thinks he’s cut and run, but their son is worried he’s in trouble. So I might have accidentally volunteered the two of us to find him.”

“Oh dear. Do you have any leads?” Zelda asked, putting her teasing aside for the moment. “I was looking at a spell earlier called Clairvoyance that is meant to guide you towards a goal…”

“Apparently he was last seen near the border by Riften,” Link said. “It all works out for me, since I was going to be heading there anyway. Farkas doesn’t mind.”

“I see. Well, don’t forget that if you need--”

There was a faint noise from the other end, and Link cut her off. “Sorry, Zelda, gotta go. Something just stepped out of a tree and started throwing bees at us.”

The stone went dark again, and Zelda sighed. That must be the Spriggans she’d heard about. Link got to have all the fun.

Left alone with her thoughts for the moment, Zelda leaned on the wall and looked over her new home. The snow was falling again.

The encircling balcony was an ideal place to practice spells. She could fire blasts of lightning out over the sea and not worry about accidentally hitting anyone except an unfortunate seagull. The Hall of the Elements was meant for this as well, but she enjoyed the outdoors.

The falling snow made even Winterhold hauntingly beautiful. From this angle, she could almost see the capital city Winterhold once was. Impressions in the snow that spoke of abandoned foundations. The bones of city walls. Far below, at the bottom of the cliffs, worn and crumbled masonry poked up from the sea that no doubt must have been truly formidable structures.

All gone, now. It was achingly familiar. Zelda’s ancestors, past lives; she remembered many different Castle Towns. Some were small and young, but most were the largest and most bustling cities of their era.

And they were always different. How many times had her home been destroyed? How many times had it been rebuilt? She remembered… laying the first brick, in the Era of Landfall, the first new building anyone in Skyloft had built in generations. That had been an interesting experience. With such limited land available to the Skylofters, it had all been used up so long ago that the art of architecture had been basically forgotten. Every building in Hyrule back then had been ugly and crude, but over the course of her life they had improved. Collapsing walls were rebuilt better. Each new house was bigger and more impressive than the last. By the time Zelda the First was old, Hyrule Town had been something to be proud of. And she was. She had overseen every plot of land, paved the roads, and had watched the town grow from the ground up. It was to be her legacy.

And then, she died, and Zelda the Pure-Hearted had been born into the Era of the Four, and it was a completely different town in a completely different land.

What had happened? And how did it happen again between the Era of Four and the Era of Time? What Calamity drove the Hylians from their home to rebuild elsewhere? And why had the gods not thought to send the Hero and the Princess to stop it?

When she only had one life in her head, seeing her kingdom destroyed made her determined to rebuild better than before, to take what was lost and recover it to the best of her ability. As long as she drew breath, Hyrule would never fall for good.

But once she had the perspective she had acquired in this life, and could see Hyrule fall again and again and again… She had to wonder what the point was.

How long would her home last, she wondered? Without the Triforce wielders to make chaos, would her kingdom finally be able to grow without complication? Or was it doomed to fall as assuredly as Winterhold had, to random disaster? Hyrule Town became Castle Town became Castle Ruins became Lookout Landing became Castle Town again.

“Hmm.” Winterhold, Capital of Skyrim, became Winterhold, a tiny village slowly freezing to death. “Hmmm…”

She looked up to the stars, seeking guidance. There was little point in worrying over what she left behind. It was regrettable, but it was done. She had to believe that Hyrule would be better off without the Demon King constantly returning, and if the price for that was her leaving it forever, then that was just what had to happen.

Now that she was here though, maybe she could finally make a lasting difference in something.

The stars twinkled, as if smiling down on her. She felt the light inside her swell, and before she knew it a smile was spreading across her face as well.

She looked back down towards the town, and was surprised to see a pair of guards in their white uniform, having paused in their patrol around the city perimeter to watch her. She waved cheerfully.

The guards didn’t wave back. One immediately spun around to walk away, pretending to not have seen her. The other flipped her off.

Zelda’s smile slipped. Before she could help Winterhold, though, first she had to figure out what that was all about. She couldn’t help these people if they weren’t going to let her.

It wouldn’t stop her from trying, but it would certainly make things more difficult.

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Ganondorf, Haafingar, Broken Oar Grotto

“HAHAHA HA!” Ganondorf threw a bandit in iron armor into the water to sink, then caught an arrow mid-flight, snapping it in his hand. The archer gaped at him in disbelief, and set his next arrow on fire. It didn’t help. “You call yourselves pirates? You call yourselves pirates?!”

“Get that lunatic! Kill him!” the captain called desperately. He watched as one his men’s swords broke against the man’s arm, and the warrior caught the shattered blade in his teeth and spat it through another’s eye.

Ganondorf was having a blast. These men were well-equipped and numerous, making them a joy to fight. A few of the bandits had even gotten up after he’d punched them, which had earned them his attention. The man in the iron armor was even now climbing out of the grotto, gasping for breath! He respected their gumption.

“Did you fools think no one would notice you attacking the lighthouse?” he taunted. “Come here, lizard thief! Show me how well you use those daggers!”

Jaree-Ra hissed, and jumped from the tower into the water. Ganondorf flipped another pirate into the drink, and the instant he was clear the Argonian shot from the water like a missile, knives extended in front of him.

He hit Ganondorf with his entire weight focused into the piercing tip of his blades, and the Gerudo slid backward a step.

He grinned. “Not bad. I might have felt that if not for my brand new armor.” He rapped his knuckles against the chestplate. He grabbed the lizard by the back of his neck, and threw him back up to the ship at the top of the tower.

------------

Jaree-Ra went through a window and landed on the Captain’s bed. Captain Hargar pulled him up with wide eyes. “We have to get out of here,” Jaree-Ra said with deceptive calm.

“No kidding,” Hargar agreed. He looked down and suppressed winced as one of his men suddenly lost the ability to have children, courtesy of an armored foot. “How did it all go so wrong?”

“Bad luck,” the Argonian admitted. “He overheard me talking to the mark and asked questions. Then he started following me. I thought I shook him when I swam away, but…”

The Captain cursed. “We were so close to enough gold and food to carry us the rest of the year… The Icerunner’s probably in port right now--”

Jaree-Ra jerked, almost jumping out the window. “Deeja!”

Jaree-Ra’s sister came within arm’s reach of the intruder, and between one blink and the next he had grabbed her by the tail and slammed her into a rock pillar.

“Jaree, don’t--!” Hargar extended a hand to stop him, a second too late. Jaree-Ra snarled and hurtled himself back down, rolling into a frenzied dance with the man. He did much better this time, rage lending him the focus needed to dodge the man’s grasping hands. His daggers couldn’t find purchase against his armor though, and after the man pulled a sword from a fallen pirate he found himself on the backfoot again.

Captain Hargar watched the exchange a moment longer. Once the titan drew first blood, he turned his head and whistled. The handful of his men who hadn’t engaged the intruder ran into his cabin. “Grab my chest and stuff as much treasure as you can into it. We’re running for our lives. The Blackblood Marauders are not dying today!”

The tower structure shook and groaned ominously, as a fighter below got tossed into a support beam.

“On second thought,” he amended hastily, “just stuff your pockets and leg it.” He looked back down towards the battle. Jaree-Ra’s anger made him careless, and Hargar watched him lose the end of his tail. It was only a matter of time.

“...I think we should leave Skyrim for a while. If the Legion’s got monsters like this, I’d rather pillage Summerset.”

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Zelda

“Illusion… or Alteration…” Zelda tapped her quill against the paper, dislodging a few drops of ink that were still inside. “Enchantment, perhaps?”

She sketched a spell out. She would translate it to the local method once she was more familiar with it, for now it was just to plan things out.

She was seated on a bench in the Hall of the Elements, thinking out loud, when one of the other students walked in.

The Dunmer girl, Brelyna Maryon, tossed a bag against the fountain and did some stretches, then turned on her heel and suddenly threw a firebolt towards the wall. She gasped, horrified, when she saw Zelda in the path of her spell a second too late to stop herself, but the Hylian simply waved a hand and her ward ate the fire without issue.

“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!” Brelyna apologized, bowing. “I didn’t see you there, no one is ever here at this time, and I’ve been trying to practice my casting speed so I didn’t see you--”

“It’s fine,” Zelda said, not having looked up at all.

Brelyna hesitated, then walked over and sat beside her. “You’re the new girl, Zelda, right? I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

Zelda did look up at that, focusing on the elf’s face under her hood and recognizing her. “No, but I’ve seen you around. That transmutation spell you’re working on is interesting.”

The elf brightened. “You really think so? I’m trying to create a variant of the Oakflesh armor spells that increases your strength instead of your defense. Something that can make you as strong as a horse!”

“I could see that being useful,” Zelda said, looking back down to her sketch and adding another symbol.

“What are you working on?”

Zelda tsked and marked something out. “It’s meant to be a static heating charm that will keep the surface it’s inscribed on at a set temperature. It’s intended for walkways and roads, but I suppose it could be used on walls as well, or even fabrics if sewn correctly…” She grumbled and pulled out a fresh piece of paper, starting over. “This symbol, here,” she said, drawing what looked like a clawed foot, “Is the insignia of the Gorons. It can be attuned to fire and earth in equal measures, so it’s ideal for merging the two concepts together.”

“I see,” Brelyna murmured, intrigued. “I can see the uses in such a thing. The floors in our rooms can get very chilly.”

Zelda blinked, then looked up amused. “Yes, we can do that, too. I was actually planning on applying it to Winterhold’s roads. It would melt the snow and improve visibility.”

“...Are you allowed to do that?” the elf girl asked, surprised. “Nords don’t like magic much.”

“I know,” Zelda smirked. “I’ll figure something out.”