A/N: Wow, you guys seem to really like this story! I've had a few people ask, and this fic was inspired by the Manwha 'Taming of the Tyrant'. I was reading the first few chaps of it and my brain instantly flew to Linked Universe. :Wild_Laugh: Such is the life of the fandom. I have created a small timeline, and it looks like LU won't hit until like... chapter 26 or so?? Um... don't quote me on that. It'll probably take until chapter 18 or so to get through the first 300 years, but they'll be more like snapshots than fully detailed chapters (I hope).

Regardless, I thank you all for your continued support! Here's Chapter 2!

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Link had seen and done many things in his time as a knight. He'd witnessed the less savory side of humanity more than once, but the knowledge that he was protecting his family was enough for him most days. Becoming a Champion—someone bound to others to help protect this land he called home—was an incredible honor. The fact that he could team up with Mipha and Daruk—two people he'd known since he was very young—was just the icing on the cake.

But he wasn't sure he liked the way King Rhoam had been looking at him lately. Anyone with eyes could tell the king was getting more and more stressed. Princess Zelda had yet to unlock her sacred healing powers, though the king had lightened up on her years ago, allowing her to pursue her love of ancient studies—much to her delight—Link, now sixteen, could only share in his king's discomfort.

While it was all well and good to see the princess so happy, it left an odd sense of wrongness weighing on his heart. There was an unspoken urgency that often kept him up at night. What about Ganon? When Calamity Ganon attacked again, would he truly be enough to protect this kingdom alongside his fellow Champions? Link certainly didn't feel ready. He felt like they should be doing something. He couldn't help but feel like they were woefully underprepared, and nobody was doing anything about it. He privately wondered if any amount of training would make this awful feeling of inadequacy go away.

He'd had the Sword that Seals the Darkness for over half a decade now, and not once had he heard the supposed voice she carried. Was he simply not good enough? Tales spoke of her divine power—strong enough to tear realms apart and seal them back up. But to Link, other than that first day he'd pulled it, it'd never felt like anything more than a well balanced blade. That first day he'd sworn there'd been some kind of special power, but there'd also been a talking tree at the time, so he really wasn't sure what to think of that day.

So when Link got a message from the king asking to speak with him in private, Link really wasn't sure what to think. Was he displeased at the slow progress? Link had been anxious all afternoon about the meeting—set late into the night, which bothered him more than he thought it should. An uneasy feeling gnawed at him, but hero or not he was still a knight. He did not have the authority to disobey his king. Nasty feelings aside, he had to honor the summons, regardless of the hour.

He waited in the courtyard, hidden from any prying eyes. The cool night breeze caressed his face, and he couldn't help but feel like it carried an echo of danger. He was antsy. Something was off here, and if danger was lurking then it'd be up to him to protect his king should they be attacked.

He spotted Rhoam approaching, and fell to one knee. The king took his time walking towards him, and the feeling of uneasiness tripled. Link carefully shifted his position without being disrespectful. He had to be ready if something happened. To even let a scratch through to his king was a great humiliation.

"Link... you have come." There was a note of disappointment in his voice, as if he'd hoped Link would have skipped the meeting. He wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that as he silently waited for his orders. Unlike usual, the king did not tell him to stand at ease, or rise from his position. So though the uneven cold stone pressed uncomfortably against his knee, Link stayed kneeling.

"I'm sorry it has come to this, child." Rhoam sighed. Come to what? Was he being demoted because Zelda still hadn't awoken her powers? Was it because of what happened at Gerudo City last month? He still protected her, but he had let her out of his sights. Regardless of Gerudo City's laws and customs, he'd let the princess travel without her knight. It was his fault entirely. He truly couldn't blame his king for demoting him, all things considered. He just hoped he would be allowed to stay a Champion.

"But you must understand..." The king's voice was laden with a weight Link could not name. For some reason, he felt like this was more than a demotion, and his heart rate quickened. "This is for the good of our kingdom. We cannot defeat The Calamity without you." For a moment, all Link felt was confusion. Was he not being demoted? He felt the sword at his back chime in warning, but in his position kneeling before his king, he was just a moment too slow to react. Something hit him hard in the back of the head, and all went black.

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Rhoam stared coolly at the unconscious hero at his feet. He'd given the boy a weeklong leave of absence just two weeks prior to visit his family. He wasn't completely heartless after all, he'd let the boy see them one last time. Even so, he had hoped it wouldn't come to this.

For the last six years, Rhoam had taken the best mages he could quietly find and formed a small private research group. They poured over the research of the Royal Mage and the Goddess Stones. What they had discovered was brilliant, but ultimately unhelpful. The Goddess Stones were made of a material eons old, perhaps older than Hyrule itself. They suggested it'd been created as a byproduct of the Triforce, and that it was essentially crystallized divinity.

The oddly shimmering purple stones were relatively unusable as they were—vanishing somewhere into the sky when exposed to direct divinity—but when they underwent a refinement process modified from the ones in the journals, they became liquid. This liquid divinity could be shoved into a living vessel, which would slowly turn them to a metal that couldn't be found on the mortal plane.

However, they had yet to find a suitable vessel for this transformation. The magic contained in these stones was immense, and the death of the prior attempts resulted in the bodies disintegrating, leaving behind only the resolidified stones, which would need to be reprocessed into a liquid form again.

All the evidence pointed to the truth in the journal Rhoam had read all those years ago. The Hero, or the Princess. One of them would have to be sacrificed to save the kingdom. Rhoam refused to sacrifice his daughter—her happiness was why he was doing this. If they could forge a new sacred blade, more powerful than the Sword that Seals the Darkness, then everything would be fine.

He eyed the blade that hummed almost angrily at the unconscious boy's back. "You... will no longer be necessary." He informed it. Whether the blade had an... ego, as the journal had called it, or not was unclear. But it was aware enough to recognize the Hero and injure anyone else who dared touch it. He eyed one of the mages. "Take care of that sword. Do not destroy it or damage it. It's a valuable historical artifact." He smiled a bit as he stroked his beard.

The man nodded, carefully holding the blade by the straps with which Link had bound it to his back. Furious sparks flew from the ancient sword, but the mage merely ignored them and walked away. Rhoam turned his gaze to the other mage—the one who had knocked the hero out. "Take him to the chamber. If all goes well, he will be the last one."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The mage picked up the boy with little care and vanished into the shadows of the night. All that remained of the heinous betrayal of loyalty and trust were the bloodstains on the stone.

Rhoam eyed the rainclouds as they festered and frothed. The evidence would be gone by daybreak. He hummed lightly as he returned to his bedchambers for the evening. He had only done what was necessary for his kingdom. For his daughter. Everything would be fine. Nobody would miss the silent knight once the Calamity had been taken care of. Despite the odd twist of guilt in his gut, he had only done what was necessary.

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Link wasn't sure how long it'd been. Hours... days... weeks... It didn't matter, either. His own king had done this to him. He wasn't stupid—the king could order his family's death over a cup of afternoon tea. If he acted out, they would be the ones to pay the price. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Though he hadn't seen the king since that night, he had no misconceptions of who had ordered this done to him. He grit his teeth as a wave of liquid fire coursed through his veins. He had to endure whatever it was they were doing to him. He had to survive until...

Until what? A rescue party miraculously showed up? Until they were done doing whatever it was they were doing and killed him? There was no way Rhoam would allow him to walk free after an act like this, but he'd thought Rhoam would've at least put stock into the old legends of the Hero. He would've thought he'd be safe until Calamity was taken care of, at least. He supposed he was wrong.

Link shivered. In the darkness of his prison, he couldn't see much at all, but he'd been losing feeling in his right arm for days. If he had to be specific, it wasn't a loss of feeling as much as it was lack of control. It felt cold—chilled to the bone, like it'd fallen asleep—and heavy. He found he could no longer move it as he wished. He shifted a bit against his chains, elbow scraping against the stone wall, creating a sound like... Link frowned as his ear twitched. He scraped it again, using his shoulder to move the limb. He couldn't be hearing that right. Starvation was taking its toll on him, he was certain.

He moved again, sharper this time, with an edge of desperation. Sparks flew from the wall, and his eyes widened in horror. In that moment, brief though it was, what he saw was unmistakable. His arm was metal. Like a refined but unshaped ore molded into the shape of his arm. It shimmered as the pitiful lightsource flickered out. He could catch the barest hint of his reflection in his own arm.

What the hell were they doing to him?! He felt something heavy and wet leak from his eyes, and for the first time since he pulled the sword, he didn't bother keeping his emotions in check. Scared, hurt, and confused, Link carefully pulled his knees up to his chest, and cried.