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A Hero and a Goddess	By : Datsexypootisburdtho Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > Crossovers Views: 2287 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Legend of Zelda, Fire Emblem, or any associated media. All rights belong to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems, and I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
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To say Friege had seen better days would be a vast understatement. It had been three months since the abuse and torture of one of the family members had been revealed, and there was a dangerous tension in the air between the current head and his daughter. It would be no exaggeration to say that the only thing that had spared Bloom from being outright removed from power and thrown in the very same dungeon his sister used to occupy, was the restraint of his daughter. Ishtar had not let Mjölnir out of her sight since that day Tailtu was rescued and Link escaped with her on his back.

A good portion of the men supported her and her brother, Ishtore, but not enough to guarantee that there would be a victory if things came to blows. Making matters a little more complicated was the continued presence of Emperor Arvis, who had made it very clear that he would not tolerate any splitting of House Friege or blood being spilled amongst kin. Justifiably angered she may have been, the newly-minted Goddess of Thunder was not fool enough to pick a fight with the master of the hellfire that was Valflame.

At least, not without a good deal of planning and as much cheating as could be possibly packed into said plans. There could be no room for error against a wielder of a Holy Weapon. Even after he had spent a handful of years with his own and was an extremely talented and powerful mage at the time, Arvis still had been more worried than he had let on when it came to the prospect of executing Sigurd of Chalphy. If there was anyone alive who could survive a blast from his fire, it would have been him.

And while he was not exactly helpless in melee combat, especially now that he had time to train himself in such fields, there was no doubt in his mind that Sigurd would have killed him in a blink of an eye if he got close. Even a Minor Blood member would have been enough to open him up like a fish, and it was for that reason that he had several volleys of Meteor focused solely on killing Ayra, the princess of Isaach. That he had received no direct confirmation of her death vexed him for years, but the fact that he hadn’t been killed in his sleep or slaughtered before he could even begin to react put him at ease.

That is, until that foolish Bloom had gone and made an enemy of a man who, seemingly, could not give less of a damn about the power he personally wielded! He had seen with his own eyes the havoc the Hylian wreaked that day in the forest, the way he had destroyed each and every monster that came at his charges with as much effort as one uses for swatting a fly. It had stung his pride a little more than he’d have liked to admit when Julius was more awed by that display than he had been at the sight of his father, but the lad was young. He couldn’t fault him too terribly hard for being impressed by such a thing.

Still… it made things more complicated than Arvis would have liked. There was a man out there who wielded power equivalent to that of a Holy Weapon, and moved like an Isaachian swordmaster of old. He had no idea if the man drew power from his sword, or if, Fjalar forbid, he was just that strong by his own merit. But while he was a potential problem, the ruler of Grannvale had a more pressing issue that required his attention.

Ishtar. Had things gone well and this mess not even started in the first place, he’d have left Friege and been back in the capital by now, and possibly have started to look for a match for Julia. Now he had a young woman who had more raw talent than he’d ever seen, and a quiet, intense anger at her parents. His presence was the only thing that kept her from overthrowing her father at this point, and taking the lordship of Friege for herself.

Her brother backed her, a third of the soldiers had wordlessly thrown their support behind her, and the Gelben Ritter as a whole would cut their own throats if she merely hinted at desiring such a thing. And yet, while he remained with his own retinue of men, she was content to act as if nothing had happened. All the while she minimized her father’s influence and did her level best to lock her own mother away in an empty wing of the castle.

All because Hilda couldn’t just execute Tailtu and be done with it. No, no she just had to exercise her sadistic tendencies and torture her for years on end. Had he known that the old friend of Sigurd was still alive, Arvis would have seen that she died himself, but it was too late now. Silesse had a strong, natural defense by way of rugged mountains and steep cliffs, with what few roads that led into the country heavily fortified and maintained by their army.

In hindsight, it may not have been the best of ideas to let the country of wind and snow remilitarize. It had taken years for Arvis to stop suspecting Prince Lewyn of hiding in the shadows and building up enough strength to challenge him, but Silesse had been a model country ever since he’d taken the throne of Grannvale. The death of Queen Lahna had come as a mild surprise, but even he had not foreseen who would take the reins after her.

Erinys, another member of Sigurd’s band, had survived. By the time he’d heard the news, it was too late to try and install a hand-picked regent until he could take the time to formally annex Silesse, not that spare time was something he had much of at any point. But, he had to admit, she had behaved herself quite well over the years. True, she never really acknowledged those days and made no signs as if she even pretended to regret her time with the former Lord of Chalphy, but Erinys had followed his decrees and managed to do a spectacular job, given her lack of education around the matters of leadership and ruling.

And so, Arvis had reluctantly allowed her permission to more officially build up her nation’s strength once more. The emerald-haired sovereign had pointed out that a sizable force of Pegasus Knights were necessary for safety and stability, given just how large and harsh the terrain and weather was. If she had to petition the Empire every time there was a roaming rabble of bandits, or the like, then it would be quite impractical and a drain on both Silesse and Grannvale’s resources.

Then she’d gone and closed her damned borders, and cited a wish to remain isolated unless needed otherwise. Erinys had made for a more shrewd, cunning Queen than he expected, always careful to comply with enough of his demands towards the kingdom to avoid truly rousing his ire, and yet she refused more than he would have liked. Truly, the former Falcon Knight had more to her than he would have ever thought possible. Perhaps he should have tried to extend an olive branch to her before he executed Sigurd…

Arvis sighed deeply and shook his head as he stood from his chair, and wondered when he had allowed himself to dwell on meaningless what-ifs and could-haves. Endlessly reflecting on the past was a pastime for folks without his grand ambitions, and he could not afford to be distracted so. After all, he had an empire to run, a quietly, intensely furious scion of Thrud to manage, and an increasingly irate Imperial Prince to handle.

While he had… been warned that such a thing could befall his children thanks to their mother being his half-sister, it was not something that he had planned on ever really having to deal with. The heir of Fjalar had figured that the occasional bursts in temper had been due to the pressure being his heir had forced on the boy, and assumed that he would eventually grow out of it and mature into the kind of man he could feel comfortable leaving the throne to after his time was through.

That had not been the case. It seemed that Ishtar’s lack of romantic interest in him had finally become clear to Julius, and so he, understandably mind, started to begrudge her affections to that damned Hylian. Again and again he tried to impress his betrothed with displays of valor and might when they patrolled for monsters, and time after time he was left frustrated and vexed that she seemed to regard him with nothing more than polite courtesy.

Today had resulted in much of the same. His son had never had been the most patient of people unless there was a good incentive behind it, but even he knew better than to try and throw his authority around when it came to the newly titled Goddess of Thunder. His lips quirked up into the tiniest of smiles as memories of the last woman to bear that epithet, a frighteningly powerful battlemage by the name Skuld.

She had passed away a few years before his own birth, and she was Reptor’s mother in fact, but with the way all of Friege had spoken of her, the tales he’d heard and stories he read… it was like he’d had a chance to meet the woman himself. But… Ishtar was more willful and fiery than her great-grandmother. ‘That must be the Fjalar blood in her. Thank the gods she doesn’t take after her mother… then I might just track down a survivor of Belhalla and let them put me out of my misery.’

“And you’re sure of these findings? I cannot and will not move on anything less than verifiably accurate information, captain, so I need to know I can trust this report.”

An older man in polished black armor with some, a little ridiculous if she was to be honest, gold trim idly stroked his beard as he turned to look at one of his subordinates in the corner of the room. The younger soldier swallowed a lump in his throat and reached for a long banner that was propped against the wall, and her eyes narrowed into slits while her brother clenched his fists when they saw what the scout had brought them.

“... so, the cult of Loptyr is alive and well…. Fuck.” Ishtar swore as she sat down and rubbed at her temples and ignored how Ishtore shot her a bemused look at her choice in language. “This was… not something I ever thought Jugdral would have to deal with ever again. Were the remnants of the Loptyr Empire hunted down and wiped out many years ago?” She had read the stories of course, nearly all nobility around the continent had practically been forced into studying the horrors that had ravaged Jugdral at the hands of the Dark Dragon and his fanatical followers.

“... most of them had been exterminated, yes, but they were very, very good at going underground and hiding. From what little I can recall off the top of my head, there were a good number of them who were targeted unfairly, killed for merely having a drop of Loptyr blood.” the man said, and the elder of the Freige siblings dismissed him with a wave and nod of his head. The soldier snapped a salute, and soon it was just the two of them that remained in the room.

“... geez, the cult of Loptyr getting bold enough to make banners, never thought I’d see it in my time.” Ishtore murmured under his breath as he examined the faded, green fabric with a deep purple symbol in the center. “... I know you’ve had your issues with him, but this is the kind of thing that we should tell Emperor Arvis about. Doesn’t his wife have Major Naga blood? Or am I remembering wrong here?”

Empress Deirdre… the daughter of the late Prince Kurth had always been a kind, almost motherly woman to Ishtar whenever the two had met in the past. There was a feeling of power around her, now that she stopped to think about it, but the idea of such a peaceful, loving woman potentially on the field of battle… it rubbed her the wrong way. “That… is correct, yes, but I don’t know if involving Lady Deirdre is the proper move right now. It could just be a few remnants getting uppity… but there’s still so much we don’t know.”

After all, it was merely only a banner. Albeit a banner in remarkably fine condition, and one that looked like it had spent a fair amount of time in some kind of storage, but a banner nonetheless. She could not go and investigate such a flimsy lead right now, not with Friege in the precarious state it was in. ‘All because mother just couldn’t help herself…’ A sigh escaped her lips as she rose from her seat and walked to the door and into the long hall outside of her solar, intent on getting in yet a little more practice with Mjölnir.

Gods… she could still hardly believe the power that coursed through her veins when she merely held the tome, let alone actively using it! Arcthunder and Thoron were mere thoughts away for Ishtar, who could not suppress the initial burst of childish delight when she saw just what kind of strength lay inside the Holy Weapon. There was almost no drain on her reserves of energy when she cast the lower-level spells, and even one as intensive as Bolting felt like a mere Thunder in terms of exertion required.

To say nothing about the spell that shared the tome’s name. Mjölnir had been awe-inspiring, and she’d only cast it once. Bloom had never sported a prouder smile than he had in that moment, as his daughter had gone and surpassed him as far as magical might was concerned. Even now, what with his seeming lack of remorse over the fate of his younger sister that had driven a wedge between them… her father still loved her, and she loved him back.

“Ishtar!”

Had he not been so close, both in proximity and otherwise, her brother would have never seen the way her shoulders tensed and heard the sigh that escaped her. His sister did not hate Julius, not in the slightest. But she did not love him. If anything, she likely saw him as a friend, perhaps a younger cousin, but as a romantic interest? No, no that was saved for a man whom they had not seen head nor tail of in the past three months.

Which never really sat well with the Prince. He’d grown up hearing tales and praises of how his father ran things, the good that the Grannvale Empire had done over the years, and just how much better things were now that a stable peace was finally in place across the land. And so, as young boys are wont to do, he started to idolize his father. Began to see him as a man who could do no wrong.

As he grew up, the boyish admiration had slowly extended to the Empire itself. Given how Arvis was an involved, invested ruler, Julius could not help but see their kingdom as an extension of his father. Whatever policies and changes he wanted to enact were embraced quickly and completely by the rest of the continent without complaint nor fuss, and it seemed like everyone in Grannvale loved him.

So why? Why would anyone ever even think of raising a hand against Imperial rule? Of defying his father? Surely those who dared to break the peace were rebels who just wanted to cause chaos, and therefore deserved to be put down before they could spread the flames of conflict. After all, those who would rebel against a benevolent ruler must be evil, right? Just like that old roaming warlord, Sigurd of Chalphy?

“How may I be of service, my Prince?” Ishtar said as she sent Ishtore off with a wave of her hand, and a look that all but screamed that they would discuss their next move later. If the cult of Loptyr was truly alive once again, it was a threat that required the full might of the Empire to quash now, before they could spread further and terrorize the lands once more.

“... what was it you two were discussing? It looked serious… has something happened?” Her lips thinned into a line as she slowed her strides to match those of Julius, and the lavender-haired woman hummed softly as they walked down the empty hall. “There wasn’t another monster attack, was there?”

“... no, nothing like that as of yet. Just some unsettling rumors, and a banner with a symbol I’d hoped to have never seen.” With any luck, Arvis would take her concerns seriously, even with the tension that had slowly grown between them both ever since she had all but assumed the lordship of Friege. “Tell me, Prince Julius, what do you know of the Loptrian Empire? Surely you studied their horrific reign at some point, yes?”

That had been the start of a mercifully short period of nightmares for Ishtar. It did not always pay to have a vivid imagination, and with the scenes her mind conjured at night to torment her, it was a price she never wanted to pay again. Hilda, in a rare show of open concern and affection, had stayed with and cared for her for the fortnight it had taken for the effects of the tales and stories she had read to leave her in peace.

“Uhhh… sort of? Honestly it’s been so long that I can’t really remember most of it, just that they were claimed to have done several obscene and, well, if I’m being honest, horrifically inefficient executions. I won’t begin to debate the morality of their acts, that’s been done a thousand times by now, but they were just so… wasteful.” he finished in a tone that almost sounded disappointed, and she glanced at him with a curious expression on her face.

“Oh? You’d like me to explain? Very well then… here, I do not wish to stand for the entirety of this.” The Prince turned to his right and opened a door that led into a modest room designed for smaller, more personal meetings and talks. “Right… where do I begin? For starters… the Loptrian Empire squandered their resources. Making massive bonfires of rebellious cities, culling strong men who showed the smallest sign of disobedience, wanton debauchery and revelry in the streets to keep the people distracted from the squalor and horrific conditions that their lives had become…”

He sat down and reached for the wineskin at his hip, and licked his lips after he quenched his thirst. “Whoever designed a way for chilled drinks to be carried in these things really should be knighted, at the very least.” Ishtar declined to mention that the Hylian who had rescued her aunt had given them such a boon, and even he laid all the credit at the feet of the… what did he call them again, Zoras? For teaching him the secrets behind that little bit of trickery.

“Anyway, the Empire was in such dire straits that it’s quite frankly a miracle that it lasted until Heim slew Gale. Endless flaunting of wealth that they didn’t really have, displays of power over a populace that they already had cowed, and foolish executions of children who showed signs of great ability. Oh I assure you Ishtar, I have studied the rise and fall of the Loptrian Empire very well… I believe there’s a multitude of lessons to be learned from it.”

Violet eyes showed a small amount of concern as the young man finished his watered wine and stood from his seat, and began to pace the room as he muttered to himself. “Julius… you almost sound as if you agree with their aims, and it was merely their methods that you find foolish.” While the Friege noble could, if she momentarily discarded her conscience of course, where the Imperial Prince was coming from, it was still a disturbing thought.

“Well… an Empire must remain strong, its rule can not be challenged, and any who would oppose it must die, right? I told you before, I don’t consider the morality aspect here, and neither should you. If the Empire says it must be done… then that’s all there is to it in my mind. Their methods were foolish, yes, and extremely wasteful… but I don’t think they thought their actions were anything other than completely necessary.”

… well. That had certainly not been expected. Ishtar had known that a leader must have a ruthless streak to some extent, but it seemed to run very deep in Julius. “... and what of traitors, hmm? They are to be put down regardless of who they are, or whatever motives they may have?” She hoped that his answer would not be what she thought it would be, but given the words the red-haired son of Arvis had just said… maybe it would have been easier to be engaged to the Princess instead.

“... you’re serious? Of course traitors are to be put to death. There’s nothing more dangerous for the stability and security of a kingdom, no, anything than enemies from within. Come now Ishtar, surely you know that. United, a country can withstand foes from without. But if those they once called allies betray them… then no matter how strong they may be, they’re doomed if they don’t snuff it out as soon as possible.”

… the worst part of it was that he had made a very, very good point. Traitors and backstabbers must be dealt with instantly, less they fester and become an obstacle that could not be overcome. “... so you don’t really have any problems with what my mother did to my aunt, do you?” she asked with a slight twinge of finality to her tone, as if the reply she received would determine her next course of action.

He turned to look at her with an almost stunned expression, before his countenance shifted and grew dark. “... Ishtar. Don’t tell me you feel sympathy for her now. Those who would aid and comfort, or sympathize with, traitors to the Empire are to be-”

“Rooted out and exterminated. Yes, I know. But that’s not… that’s not the way Bloom raised me. ‘Family first, Friege second, and everything else after.’ Those have been our unofficial words since the days of Thrud. A strong family makes for a strong Friege, and a strong Friege is a benefit for all of Grannvale.” Her heart hammered in her chest, and her blood thundered in her ears as she slowly rose from her seat, violet eyes fixed upon Julius with a storm that put what Mjölnir could conjure to shame.

“Julius. I am going to go see my aunt now. You would be wise to reconsider what it is you have said, and to rethink your views. By your leave.” Ishtar almost snorted at how absurd she sounded, as if his word would be enough to keep her here. And yet, for a moment she hoped that the young man would see sense and let her through.

Unfortunately, her luck didn’t turn out that way. A hand on her shoulder stopped her before her hand could do more than grip the door handle, and with an expression carved from stone, the Goddess of Thunder turned to look the Imperial Prince in the eye. “... Julius.” she breathed, her voice barely audible to his ears, and yet he was instantly filled with a terror beyond any he’d ever known. “You will unhand me this instant, before I sever your arm at the shoulder and beat you to death with it.” But before she could even begin to gather power in her hand, the door was wrenched open, and her face paled when she saw the man on the other side.

“While I do not doubt your ability to do so, Lady Ishtar, I feel the need to remind you exactly whom you are threatening.” There was no emotion to be found on the Emperor of Grannvale as he stood in the doorway, and in his eyes… in his eyes was a demand for an explanation. “I will give you one, precisely one, chance to talk yourself out of this. What, pray tell, were you doing that caused you to threaten my son?”

… well, this was less than ideal. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, if she recalled the sayings of a Friege knight correctly. ‘I’d hoped to avoid this if at all possible… but the fates seem to have it out for me.’ “... there is no point in denying things now, is there? Lord Arvis… I am going to see my aunt in Silesse. Please, do not try to prevent my departure.” Even as those words left her lips, she knew that doing just that was exactly what the heir of Fjalar had in mind.

“... Ishtar. Tailtu is a traitor and an enemy of the Empire. Of my Empire. Unless you are going there to claim her head yourself… and somehow, I doubt that is the case… then that would be aiding and abetting an enemy. You know what that means, correct? Of the penal-”

Arvis never got to finish that sentence. Ishtar’s palm shot forward and into his breastplate, and the gathered lightning blasted the man clear through the wall and into the gardens below. Damn… Liza always loved those tulips. A sudden rise in temperature was the only warning that she received as Julius launched a blast of Elfire at her back, but with a dismissive swing of her arm, the spell was backhanded out of existence.

The Prince, for all of his prodigious talent and power, was nothing more than an annoyance to her at the moment. The true challenge was the man who climbed to his feet and leveled a glare that could melt solid steel at her, and she returned it with equal intensity. ‘Barely left a scorch mark on his armor… I knew I’d have to push myself if I ever had to fight Lord Arvis, but I didn’t think he’d ignore my attack so easily.’

“... very well. If this is how you want to do things…” The lord of Velthomer hissed as a haze of heat shimmered in the air before him, and she knew that there remained only seconds to act. And act she did, Ishtar whirled around and called forth a wave of raw force, and Julius was flung down the hall while she moved like the hounds of hell itself were on her heels. Which, given the tome being used by her opponent, wasn’t the most inaccurate statement.

“Valflame!”

The air behind her exploded with a maelstrom of flame, of power, and only a desperate, magically-aided leap kept her from being caught in the edges of the blast. Lightning trailed behind her form as Ishtar barely turned her fall into a roll, and was forced to jump forward once again. Arvis was relentless, and left her not even a second to catch her breath as he launched salvo after salvo of the divine flame, and after the fifth evasion saw the edge of her dress slightly scorched, the heir of Thrud decided that she’d had quite enough of this game.

“Rexbolt!” she cried with a clear, loud voice, and the Emperor of flame glanced into the sky and paled ever so slightly. A storm of frightening proportions rumbled and snarled in the dark clouds, and as her arm fell, so did the bolts that screamed with all the fury of their mistress. If it wasn’t aimed directly at his head, he might have been impressed.

An effort of will and the hastiest, dirtiest shield he had ever conjured blazed into being between him and the electrical assault, and despite his power Arvis felt himself… losing ground. Of course, fire magic had always been inferior to lightning. But he was far from a new pupil in the realm of the mystical arts, and with a shout the red-haired man dispelled his shield of flame and the blast of lightning, and tried to locate his foe before she could launch another such attack.

“Looking for me?” To the day she died, the way he shivered at the sound of her voice behind his back would be a memory to relish. “Mjölnir.” Her voice echoed with power as a circle darker than the night sky opened before his eyes, and for a moment she felt a little bad for unleashing the tome’s true might upon him, but only for a moment. For in the next, a magnificent onslaught of blue-white bolts burst forth and crashed against Arvis, and hammered his defenses without pause.

This may very well be the only chance she got to bring him down, and so Ishtar opened herself fully to Mjölnir, to the divine strength wielded by Thrud and prayed it would be enough. Her form glowed with energy as she floated into the air, and with a hoarse shout she released everything. Blasts of Bolting, strikes of Thoron, and the incessant, unending blows of Dire Thunder. The raw power in her assault rocked the castle to its foundations, and the stone melted and disintegrated as she poured everything within her being into seeing Arvis fall.

Bloom, over a hundred yards away outside the gates watched the display with naked terror mixed with no small amount of pride. Arvis was known to be the strongest mage in all the land, capable of feats with his Valflame that no one individual could ever hope of surpassing, regardless of what type of magic they used. And yet, here was his daughter, with a raw might exceeding that of his Emperor. There could be no “good” outcome from this fight, regardless of who won, but for a moment… just for a moment, he allowed himself to stand in awe of his child.

And after what seemed like an eternity, Ishtar sank to the floor, ignorant of how the heat stung her skin as she panted for breath. If that was not enough… if Arvis was still standing, then that was it. There would be no victory for her today.

It was only thanks to her training that she saw the gout of flame come for her head, and her arm cried out in protest as she summoned a small field of lightning to divert the strike. There was barely enough in her reserves for even that, and no matter how much strength she could draw from her family’s heirloom, it would not be enough to win.

“... for a moment there”, a voice rasped as the smoke faded, and Grannvale’s ruler forced himself to his feet, “you almost had me. I’ve never… never seen a display such as that. If I had to face it even five years ago… I would have died.” he muttered with a low voice, and winced as his leg shook from the effects of her magic. “But… surely, you knew that there was only one way this could end, Ishtar.”

Her mind flickered in and out of consciousness as he slowly walked forward, unable to do more than keep her eyes open and pointed in the vague direction of Arvis. He’d lost half of his strength in ensuring his survival, and never before had he needed to push Valflame to its limit like that. He loomed over her body as she fell to the ground, and raised his hand to the heavens as a small sphere of fire came to life above his palm. “Do you… have any last words, o Goddess of Thunder?”

Hazy eyes of violet struggled to find his face, but even now, helpless and waiting for death from the Emperor, there was no weakness in her gaze. No surrender, no regret. “... there’s… nothing more to be said.” Ishtar forced out, and he allowed himself a small chuckle as his attack grew in strength. It was like the sun had come down and gave him access to its strength, such was the aura of might.

“Very well. No contrition in the face of death. You have my respect. Don’t worry, Tailtu will be joining you soon.” And with a wordless shout, Arvis pronounced his sentence upon his opponent, as a stream of fire so dense, so impossibly powerful it was like a solid object obliterated the ground before him.

The heat was immense, and had it not been for the protection afforded by his tome and his bloodline, even he would have succumbed and passed out. What remained of the walls around the gardens had begun to melt as he slowly ceased his attack, and dismissed the three-foot high pile of magma with an effort of will.

He was met with a soft, blue glow before his eyes, and beneath a crystalline barrier lay Ishtar. Passed out, exhausted beyond measure, but very much alive. It was almost comical, the way he blinked and stared in confusion, and glanced from the tome in his hand and the charred ground around the azure shield that had saved her life.

“That… was a mistake, Your Majesty.” A voice like iron spat from behind him, and without a second thought Arvis threw himself forward into a roll, only for a grip stronger than steel to catch his boot and pull. It had been years since anyone had truly sent him flying in battle, be it a spar or otherwise, and never before had he been hurled bodily with all his armor on.

And yet, as he bounced thrice along the blackened earth and came to a stop against a wall that had somehow remained intact, he knew that he would be lucky if that was all that happened to him. Eyes colder than death itself glared into his very soul, and Arvis knew that he was being allowed to stand back up. His new enemy wanted him to fight back, so that he could be crushed into the floor and know that he never stood a chance before he died.

“Welcome to the end of your life, you bastard. I promise you, it’s going to hurt.” Link snarled as he drew his sword and leaped forward, the Master Sword aglow with a blue-white flame that hurt to look at as he struck. This… would not end well.
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A Hero and a Goddess