Reunions

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Link raced (stumbled) down the stairs and out into the hallway it led to. He leaned heavily against the wall, needing its support to stand. The details of the hall came to his eyes in patches. Like the large metal door at the one end of the hallway. The many intersections that crisscrossed the path. The few average sized metals doors. The teal lines that ran across the walls in a graceful and chaotic dance. Link took it all in in small slices, but he didn't really see any of it. The only thing he truly saw and registered was the splotches of red blood scattered across the floor. It looked like someone had been attacked, then dragged down the hall.

"Midna?" Link couldn't remember if Twilis had red blood. He didn't think they did.

'But they must,' his thoughts stubbornly reasoned. 'How else could red blood have gotten on the floor?' It was then that he realized what blood on the floor meant. That someone was badly injured. That something bad must have happened. It meant someone was in trouble. Someone he needed to help.

"Midna!" He called for her as he hurried down the hallways, following the winding trail of blood. He hoped she would respond, he hoped she wasn't the one who had been attacked. If she responded, maybe they could deal with this danger together? If she was okay...

He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground, he didn't look up till the trail of blood ended. Surprise flashed in his eyes when he looked up and noticed that he had arrived in the throne room. It had been a long time since he had been here. The last and first time he had been in the twilight throne room was to stop the usurper king. Link and Midna had won the battle, but... The cost of victory is sometimes steep.

"Hello?" Link wondered warily. He got the vague impression that he'd stumbled (raced) into some sort of a trap. Like perhaps he had made a stupid mistake in his hurry.

"Hello?" A hesitant and slow step deeper into the room. The hallway he'd been following had led to a small and conveniently already open door behind the throne. He couldn't see what was happening further in the room, not till he left his cover. Link felt weak and tired as he stepped out into the open, but he was filled with adrenaline and the pain had faded to a dull ache in the back of his mind. He was fine, for now.

When he'd completed the few steps it took to walk around the imposing throne, he could see Midna. She was lying on a gray and silver rug. Her eyes were hidden, concealed by her orange hair which was flung in front of her face. Iron chains linked her hands together. The chains glowed a haunting blue.

"Midna!" Forgetting about his misgivings and trying to be cautious, he rushed forward. Kneeling next to Midna, he gently lifted her head off the floor.

"Midna!" Dark blue blood flowed from her nose. Her orange hair had slid away revealing opened eyes filled with the same blue as the chains on her wrists. She was breathing, however it was slight and tamed. Her skin was cold in his hands.

"Please, Midna!"

"It's just a precaution. She should regain consciousness soon." The voice was cold, sinister even. Link turned around rather slowly to see the one who had spoken. Facing the throne, a look of surprise consumed his face like a ravaging wildfire at the sight he saw. A person, one who Link knew to be dead. Defeated in that very room...

Sitting on the throne was Zant, the infamous usurper king. His legs were crossed and his hands were folded above his knees, completely comfortable and relaxed like he belonged there. That was where the calm and collectedness ended. Wild and crazy was his orange hair, like winds were coming at it from all directions. His thick black and teal robes had been reduced to a tattered and torn rag, not at all like the finery it had been last time Link had seen him. His metal armor was gone. Well, almost gone. Scraps of the metal that had once made up the armor were all that remained. The metal was infused into Zant's gray skin. His face was divided into four sections by ragged scars and his red eyes shot daggers into Link's soul.

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