Mipha gazed out over the training yard, which was cast in a long shadow from an overlooking watch tower. It was hard to believe it'd been less than a fortnight since their last visit here. Memories of Faron's hard-won fight sprang to mind.

As if on cue, Faron appeared across the square, emerging from the shade of a second-floor balcony meant for spectators, her usual stoic expression pasted across her face. Suddenly, Mipha found herself recalling Faron's promise to her.

"I promise to protect you."

Perhaps she had only returned Mipha's pledge out of obligation. She already operated in a protective role; perhaps it came naturally to her. But the unshakable conviction in Faron's eyes as she had said it...it had gripped Mipha.

And it had not released her since.

She ducked her head shyly at the swordwoman's approach, the item she had stowed away with her belongings abruptly tugging at her thoughts. Faron offered a nod of greeting to the other Champions.

"The Princess will be coming soon. She loudly ordered me to greet you, so here I am."

Urbosa gave a lightly veiled chuckle. Revali merely folded his wings grouchily and gazed off into the distance. Daruk, however, beamed happily while attempting another bone-jarring clap on the back, only for Faron to dodge it again.

"Good to see ya!" he practically shouted.

"Yes, same to you," Faron said flatly.

"So," Revali said suddenly, drawing the word out in an unsettling manner, "How have you been settling into your new role, Champion?"

He bit the word out, causing Mipha to almost flinch at his level of venom. Faron, judging by her expression, had likewise failed to overlook his evident hostility. The Rito cocked his head in bird-like fashion.

"Comfortable?" he pressed.

"I wouldn't describe it that way," Faron answered coolly, her hand resting on the pommel of the Master Sword.

Revali eyed the blade.

"Oh? And has it occurred to you that perhaps the reason for your discomfort might be that you were never intended to carry that sword in the first place?"

"Revali, leave it be," Urbosa warned.

But her words went unheeded.

Revali stepped forward so he was toe-to-toe with Faron.

He scoffed, "Barely Champion for a few weeks and already the Princess was almost murdered by a hoarde of monsters. If I were the King, I promise you, I would not have overlooked such a sloppy performance. Then again, he is desperate, so I suppose he's forced to settle for scraps like yourself."

Faron's face twisted into an expression of barely contained anger. Mipha felt her unease grow.

"Perhaps—" she tried to interject, only to be cut off.

"I'm betting you have no idea what it means to be a real Champion. When it comes down to it, when Ganon strikes, I doubt you'll have what it takes to protect the Princess."

In the blink of an eye, the Master Sword was free of its scabbard and resting at Revali's throat.

"Why don't you find out?" Faron hissed.

"Faron!" Mipha gasped.

"Enough!" Urbosa snapped.

"Uh, guys, don't you think we should all be trying to get along?" Daruk asked uneasily.

Revali simply smiled, stepping back from the blade aimed at his neck.

"Challenge accepted," he said.

A sudden whirlwind slapped at Mipha's face, driving her and her fellow Champions back. Revali had taken to the sky. Faron watched his ascent through shielded eyes, teeth gritted. Then, like a loosed arrow, she shot back toward the square.

"Faron!" Mipha cried, but it was no use.

Faron had already grabbed a nearby armory rack and was dragging it to the edge of the yard, clambering onto it so as the reach the narrow roofing surrounding the square and gain some higher ground.

Mipha started forward, trying to think of some way to put a stop to this, when suddenly Urbosa's hand gripped her shoulder.

"On second thought," the Gerudo said contemplatively, "Perhaps it's best if we let them sort it out for themselves."

"You serious?!" Daruk said in disbelief.

Urbosa's silence confirmed it. Mipha stood rooted to the spot, seized by uncertainty.

There was absolutely no way she could see this ending well...

Faron hauled herself up onto the tiled roofing, getting her feet under her and racing northward, both eyes fixed determinedly on her target.

I have to get higher up, she thought, gritting her teeth in frustration.

She could hear Revali's mocking laughter as he soared in lazy circles overhead. Faron reluctantly tore her eyes away, searching for the next step up. There was the watch tower dead ahead, built straight into the high stone wall overlooking the training yard. Lengthening her stride, Faron raced directly toward it, using her momentum to launch herself up the side. She gained one, two, three paces, then pushed off as hard as she could, aiming for the parapet. She just barely caught its edge, utilizing all her strength in order to pull herself up. She paused a second to catch her breath, then found her next destination: the watch tower. Thankfully, it required a shorter leap up than the parapet, and she made it easily enough. The guard keeping watch there startled, demanding to know what she was doing there, but Faron ignored him, her gaze falling on the ballista before her.

I've got you now, you insufferable bird, she thought with a self-satisfied smile.

"What are you doing?!" the soldier cried as she aimed the ballista at the sky.

"Feel free to place a wager as to who'll win this fight," was all the response Faron gave before releasing the trigger.

The bolt snapped out, racing upward.

Revali narrowly dodged it, swooping past the tower and shouting, "You'll have to do better than that!"

Faron muttered a curse. He was right. She had to find a way to level the playing field, literally. Otherwise, he could probably endlessly dodge whatever she—

Her thoughts were cut short as Revali swooped past a second time, arrows aimed directly at Faron. Reacting on instinct, Faron threw herself backward, tumbling over the edge of the tower and striking the high wall below. The fall winded her, but she had no time to catch her breath as Revali fired again. Faron snatched the Master Sword from its sheath, slashing aside the projectiles. Her frustration grew.

"Is that your best play?!" she shouted at her airborne foe, "To fly as far away from your opponent so you can simply shoot at them from your safe little perch in the clouds? Coward!"

Her accusation prompted a relentless flurry of arrows, forcing Faron to search for cover. She leaped off the high wall, her feet slipping out from under her as she landed on the tiles below. She caught herself just before sliding off the edge, striking away another onslaught of arrows before hurrying toward the sheltered balcony over the training square.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Revali's laughter resounded once more, stirring Faron's frustration into a roiling anger.

"Would you look at that? Who's the coward now, Champion?"

Faron's seething fury threatened to overtake her senses but she held it off, looking for something, anything that might give her the upper hand. Then her eyes locked onto a young man standing just across the balcony from her—a servant, judging by their clothing—who was eyeing her uncertainly, a large sack of flour slung over his shoulder. They must have been passing through on their way to the nearby kitchens and gotten distracted by the fight.

An idea struck Faron, and she bounded toward him, snatching the bag away from him.

"Hey!" he shouted, but Faron was hardly about to stop.

She repeated her process of mounting the parapet, tossing the sack up first and dodging arrows as she ran. Reaching the tower once more, she smacked the bag of flour down on top of the ballister, bunching up a section of the material and pressing it onto the point of the bolt so it would remain attached once the shaft was released.

"Champion or not, I can't allow you—" the guard protested.

Faron effectively shushed him.

"Have you made your wager yet?" she asked, taking care to aim the bolt precisely.

Revali almost seemed to be daring her to fire, maintaining his position and staring her down.

"Well—" the guard hesitated, then admitted, "Yes."

"Good," Faron said, allowing herself another satisfied smile, "I'll wager you that I win."

She fired, the bag of flour ripping open upon release and trailing white clouds behind it. Revali dodged straight into the blinding powder, Faron snapping another bolt into place and shooting it into the cloud to force him out. His dark blue form streaked downward, alighting in the square below. Then that very same whirlwind he'd summoned before sprang up around him.

YES!

He'd taken the bait. Faron stepped up to the edge of the tower, her sword at the ready, and waited for the right moment. Then Revali shot upward, bringing his gale with him.

NOW!

Faron leaped off the tower, sword raised, just as the updraft forced her cover to dissipate. Revali came up beneath her like a shot, only registering his fellow Champion bearing down on him in the last few seconds. His green eyes widened in shock. Faron could almost taste her victory. She started to bring her sword down.

"Faron!"

Steel clashed with steel as Mipha barrelled up from below, her spear fending off Faron's attack. Then they were both plummeting, Daruk just barely managing to catch them each in one arm.

"That was a close one!" he thundered, "I'll admit I was a bit nervous throwing you right into the middle of that, Mipha, but it looks like it worked out! Great job!"

Mipha's answer faded into the background as Faron tried to grapple with what had just happened. A terrible shame flooded through her as she realized what she'd done.

I almost killed him. I almost KILLED another Champion. And I was glad about it...

She shakily pushed herself to her feet.

"Is everyone all right?" Mipha queried worriedly, "Revali? Faron?"

"I'm sorry," Faron blurted breathlessly.

Silence followed. Faron chose to walk away, deciding it was better if she were separated from her fellow Champions for the time being. As she walked, her feet carrying her who knew where, her mind raced over the fight again and again, until past events started bleeding through.

Suddenly, to her mind's eye, it wasn't Revali who'd been scorning her. It wasn't him who had tried to prove her inferior.

It was—

Father.

Somehow, everything seemed to trace back to him. Her anger, her drive, her deep seated fear.

He taught me the basics of swordplay, over and over until I probably could've performed them in my sleep. Perhaps I did... she thought dolefully, recalling all the sleepless nights where she would simply lay there recounting each strike. Then we would move on to the next level, and the next, and the next. And before each new level, he would make sure I knew the last one perfectly. We'd use real swords, and I'd end up with worse injuries than the usual thumps and bruises I was used to. And still he'd push me and push me, insisting I wasn't good enough...

The truth was that her father was a coward, so scared of losing the only person left in his life that he'd put his daughter through hell and eventually brought about the very thing that he'd feared.

The drive for perfection, the need to protect myself, the worry of what might happen if I fall short...that all came from him, she realized, a sickening feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, I didn't prove him wrong at all. I'm everything he wanted me to be.

Her eyes fell to the Master Sword, tucked away in its sheath. Her breathing became raucous, unsteady, as she drew it with shaking hands, her fingers carelessly gripping the blade and drawing blood. Then, unable to contain her stormy emotions, she flung the steel as hard as she could away from her, uttering a harrowing scream.

"Faron?"

She stiffened at the sound of Mipha's voice, casting a wild look over her shoulder. Sure enough, there stood the Zora, a look of concern on her face. Faron's guilt struck her again with full force. She turned to face Mipha fully, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice almost breaking.

She saw the whole fight. What could she possibly think of me now...?

"You're bleeding!" Mipha cried abruptly, rushing forward and taking hold of Faron's hands.

Her touch seemed to quell the trembling in Faron's hands, somehow transporting it to her legs instead. Faron dropped to her knees, causing Mipha's alarm to grow.

"Are you injured elsewhere too?" she pressed.

Faron shook her head slowly.

"Why did you help me during the Master Sword trial?" she blurted suddenly.

Mipha froze, her eyes unable to meet Faron's.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she said at last, "I know it was wrong of me to interfere. But I—that is to say...I couldn't—"

"Let me die," Faron finished.

Mipha didn't answer. Faron gazed off into the distance.

"You were wrong about me," she said, "I'm not brave. I can't selflessly protect people the way you do. Everything I've done has just been to protect myself. And I don't fight despite my fears. I fight because of them." She gave a mirthless laugh. "I used to wonder which I was more afraid of: disgrace...or death. Now I know the only reason I was afraid of being disgraced was because I was afraid of death, because it'd mean I wasn't good as I thought I was, or as good as I hoped to be. In some stupid way, I thought deep down that if I was skilled enough, I could somehow escape death." She swallowed hard. "I'm a coward."

Just like father. All his selfishness...it warped me to be selfish too. And I couldn't even see it...

Mipha gripped her hands a little tighter, causing Faron to look back at her. The Zora's face bore no judgement, no distress, only her familiar warmth and serenity.

"I don't believe that. Not at all," she said with surprising firmness, "You made me a promise, and I know you were sincere. And that is why, even if you don't, I believe you are brave."

Faron stared in silent shock. This Zora, for hardly a conceivable reason, consistently chose to see the best in her. She couldn't understand it, she couldn't understand the way it made her feel.

But it was undeniable.

Before she quite knew what she was doing, Faron had thrown her arms around Mipha, enveloping her in a gentle embrace.

"Thank you," she breathed, her eyes pricking with unshed tears.

She pulled away, leaving Mipha apparently shocked speechless. Then the Zora made that all-too-recognizable shy dip of the head before setting to work healing Faron's cuts.

She finished in a timely fashion before uttering a quiet reminder that they should probably rejoin the other Champions in case Zelda had arrived and was waiting for them. Faron hastily agreed, not wanting the Princess to hear of her skirmish with Revali. She set off, only to be called back by Mipha.

"Oh, Faron, you forgot your sword!"

Oh...

Faron looked back at where she had thrown the Master Sword on the ground. She hesitated.

I don't deserve to carry it. I couldn't even pull it from its pedestal without help.

But someone still needed to guard the Princess, and she had taken up that calling. It was too late to go back on it now. She approached the blade, pausing briefly before returning it to its sheath.

Maybe someday she could grow beyond what her father had made her, and earn the right to wield the Blade of Evil's Bane.

But today felt far from that day.

Donning her stoic mask, she nodded to Mipha.

"Let's go."

By the time they reached the other Champions, Revali was nowhere to be seen. Worry gnawed at Faron. She looked to Urbosa, asking if the Rito was all right.

"Oh, he's fine," Urbosa assured her leisurely, "Seems the only thing you injured was his ego." Her dark green eyes twinkled mischievously. "There is one thing I want to ask you," she added, "I noticed you don't carry a shield."

"I prefer to fight without one," Faron explained, "I felt it might get in my way or weigh me down too much, and I wanted my fighting skill to be totally reliant on my swordplay."

"The greatest swordsman can bring down his opponent without ever being struck even once," she recalled her father saying.

She forced down the memory in disgust. None of it mattered anymore. She didn't want to live by his rules ever again.

"You fought with a shield when you faced the King's knights," Urbosa pointed out.

"Yes," Faron said slowly, almost loath to admit it, "I thought it'd be better if I had the advantage of a shield...given the circumstances."

I wasn't sure if I was good enough to make it through that fight without one. I didn't know if I'd be fast enough to keep up with every attack...

"So you do understand the advantage of a shield," Urbosa concluded, hefting hers into view. It was beautifully ornate, and shone near as brightly as the sun. "This is Daybreaker. It's saved me more times than I can count." She returned it to its place upon her back. "A true master of the sword understands that a shield can double or perhaps even triple the proficiency of their swordplay. It can even serve as a weapon all its own. Your technique against the King's men shows you have some understanding of this, but you lack an appreciation for the shield's full potential. I could offer you some guidance, if you're willing to receive it."

Faron considered it a moment, then nodded.

"Thank you. I'll take you up on that."

"Hey!" a voice shouted suddenly, drawing the attention of the Champions.

Faron recognized the guard from the watch tower. He half-walked, half-ran toward them, one hand jammed awkwardly into a small purse.

"Just got off my guard shift. Figured I'd pay up. I wagered that the Rito would win. Fancy my rotten luck. Either way, it was all fair and square, no denying that, so here—"

"Don't bother," Faron insisted, "I lost."