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Their anger was Divine; it seared through the heavens, trembling stone. The land quivered with such righteous wrath.
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The field is holy ground, or so they say; feet bare, She lowers herself to the skewed alter, robes pinned delicately in place as the pearl diadem tickles Her brow.
With folded hands, She pleas to Them; how ironic, for a Goddess to need beg forgiveness.
The wind does not bring the absolution She seeks. The smell of fire and brimstone caresses Her lungs in its stead, and Her skin stings with the sweet memory of onyx scales rubbing Her raw in a rutting passion. She closes her eyes.
“Hylia.”
They do not open.
“Don’t-” She chokes as claws carefully pry the veil from Her hair, gathering a bushel of the wheat colored locks as he steals Her scent. Demise reclines on the sacred ground with befitting casualty for all his heathen ways.
“Do you pray to yourself?” The Demon mocked.
Hylia levels the stone altar with a stare; it gives no reply. With resignation, She gathers a monstrous hand - bringing it to rest on Her begotten stomach.
“My Sisters are not pleased.”
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The Golden Three swirled in their Sacred Realm, for no sacrifice nor prayer could sooth their vehemence. Squandered love had stirred their ire. For their Heir to debauch Herself with an such Impurity, a Demon King, on the floor of their most sacred of temples, no less - it was an affront to Them and all their Power.
Gods were petty things, and no such crime would escape their amercement.
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Black claws carefully cradled the fruit, juices running from its punctures. A split tongue rushed to reap the gift of such wounds.
It was only the burst of flames that caught his interest, the very tree that had gifted his lunch enkindled in a dancing blaze.
Demise allowed a smile to slither across his face; “It is no fault of mine. The blame lies on Yourselves.”
The bush flared.
“Leaving Her here with nothing but petty mortals; of course She would seek Her equal.”
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The child that is born from the Union is filth in Heaven’s eyes; in Their realm, They titter and conspire. If Love is what stills Their hand against Her, then They will take what They do not cherish.
But One of Three has pity.
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The Priests do not know.
It is in the belly of Her temple, Her home, that Hylia rocks the babe in arms; feeds her from the breast and sings her hymns.
She looks nothing of Her other children, the Hylians pale and light, their eyes of shimmering water and their skins flaxen.
This child is clay; her skin is the most precious of the red desert sands - her hair is her Father’s flame, her eyes the golden, setting sun.
It is a familiar look; it is with these very features that Demise seduced Her. How foolish, to fall for a Demon’s mortal form.
She is a Goddess, and it is a Sin to love one Child more than any other; but Hylia knows, has known, in Her hearts of hearts, from the minute that this creature ripped its way through Her body - that She loves this Gift more than any other.
For this babe is Her own, and She is no longer just a Grace upon these lands, but a Mother.
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She is truly Their Sister, for She is crafty and wise; the child remains hidden in the bowels of the Earth, holy magic and blessings scattering her crib. Not even Their bane can smite her.
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The child’s first Name’s Day bares no gifts; hisses of words even more Powerful than Hers have rotted the ears of all People that are not her Own, and a silent resentment carries on the winds of Her land.
There is but one Blessing; a diadem of golden chain, a bright red stone set in its middle. Demise drapes it over their babes head.
“My blood.” He murmurs, brushing the pearls of Hylia’s crown from Her eyes as the babe slumbers in her Mother‘s arms, jeweled forehead swimming, “May she be safe.”
It is the first time the Demon King has laid eyes on his daughter, but it is not the last time that he bows to her.
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Years pass, and two more bastard children are born of the sinful Union, in a mockery of Their Excellence; hatred of them burns Blue and Green, but they have one Blessing of Red.
Red Blessings cannot save them from Heaven’s eyes, however; and as among the pews they dance, Heaven’s hand reaches for them.
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Hylia returns for her Daughters at the height of noon, her arms aching for their weight.
She is Eternal, but She loves as simply and purely as a Mortal woman - mother - does.
So it is with shattering grief that the empty temple strikes her, the animals dying and the plants withering beneath her cries - in her desperation she throws herself into the Earth’s crust, among a Demon’s arms.
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‘May you bare not but one Man every thousands years…’ Nayru cursed…
‘May all lands you touch be unfruitful and without our Breath…’ Farore decreed…
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“Give It to me, Hylia.”
“I cannot,” She pleaded, “for your heart is too Unpure.”
“Give me The Golden Gift, and I will smite your wretched Sisters from Their Heavens for the ill They have committed against Us.”
“Please, my love,” She cried, “You know not of their Power - they will take you, too.”
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…and Din saw the dark skin the children bore, the red of their hair, the gold of their eyes - and knew that they were not only Hylia’s children, but her Own.
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“You bow to Them still? …So be it, then.”
“Demise-”
“Until The Old Gods return to me my Daughters, I shall smite every last creature upon this Earth-”
“My love-”
“-and bathe these lands in red. There shall be a cry throughout Hyrule that has not been before and shall never be again-”
“Please-”
“-and I shall pry the Triforce from your cold, dead fingers, Hylia, and seek Them with It until my thirst for Their Golden blood is quenched.”
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‘May you and any children that you may bare be banished far from your Mother’s Land and the Power We have given Her.’ Din blessed, and her Sisters shrieked in anger at her cleverness.
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The walls of Her temple were cold and barren.
‘O’ Sister…come back into Our arms, and We shall bless you - defend Us, and We shall give you a great Gift.’
Hylia needed not pray for absolution - the Golden Goddesses now offered it willingly.
‘Fight the Demon King, and we shall give your Hylians the skies - defend our Word, and We shall give you Armies.’
To love as a mortal was a Sin -a weakness - and for Her treachery, Her Daughters would never be returned.
‘We will grant you a Companion worthy of your Loyalty - a Warrior to destroy the Unpure.’
She was Mother to All life on this Earth - where She had failed Her Children once, She would never fail again.
‘Protect Our Power - kill the Demon King, and be Loved by Us once more.’
Hylia, with her tragic, broken heart, conceded to Her Sisters’ will.
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And so Din threw Hylia’s Children far from Hyrule - and the lands turned to dust beneath their feet, and among the windless earth they bore no sons - but far were they from the Power of The Old Gods, and far were they from the War that raged on.
Among the desert sands they danced and prayed.
They did so with such grace that Din named Her People the Gerudo.