A/N: I'm supposed to be working on my EBF4 fic, but a plot bunny gathered a few friends and demanded with brandished carrots that I write this first. It was inspired by The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword Manga written by co-author Akira Himekawa and is meant to be a brief backstory for why Link is imprisoned at the start of it. This has much more descriptive writing in it than my other story, so if flowery, poetic and writing is not your cup of tea, then please make your way back to The Legend of Zelda fanfiction section and read one of the many other great stories located there. Thank you to FierceDeityMask for being an unoffical beta for the first chunk of this fic!
Disclaimer: I do not claim any ownership or rights to any part of The Legend of Zelda or its characters nor do I claim any ownership or rights to the related manga. All rights belong to Nintendo and co-author Akira Himekawa respectively. This was written purely for fun and I am making no monetary gain from this story.
Now then, enjoy! :D
Outside, a howling wind screamed its fury and defiance in the darkness of the night. The gales whipped their way around the mighty stone walls of a castle and rattled the shutters that dared to inhibit their path through arched windows. It tore at the large pennants that crowned the castle's spires and turrets and herded the ominous clouds that roiled across the sky, adding their low grumble of thunder to the shrieking fury of the wind. Lightning crackled and flashed, throwing the unmoving structure and the hill it sat on into sharp relief for the briefest of seconds before the night's darkness swallowed it once more. Rain lashed the walls and ran off the tiled roofs to cascade downward in smooth sheets and shatter against the muddy ground.
Inside, it was nearly as dark, only the flickering fires ensconced in mounted braziers lit the damp stone corridors. The light was uncertain and made the shadows of the wall hangings and suits of armor that lined the halls dance to an unheard song. The wrathful storm outside was muted by the thick stone walls that stood against its rage. The hour approached midnight so no light came from the cracks beneath the wooden doors that led to the sleeping quarters and studies of the castle's occupants; none of the doors, but one. Two armored guards stood on either side of the wooden barrier.
The inside of the room was dominated by a large desk that stood between two shuttered windows. Exquisite tapestries that served both to decorate and keep the room warm hung from every wall. A shield bearing a crest of three triangles above stylized wings hung above two crossed swords over the desk. A single candle cast a small pool of light in a sea of shadows around the desk. Inside the glow around the desk, two elderly men sat speaking in hushed tones. One man in long robes of rich, gold-stitched crimson sat in the mighty wing-backed chair situated behind the desk facing the one who sat across from him. He wore a crown of shining gold upon his brow. The other man was finely dressed but not nearly as finely as the monarch he was leaning towards in an attempt to persuade the man behind the desk. Both of their faces were heavily shadowed by the minute light cast by the single sputtering flame.
"He is dangerous, my liege," the lesser noble insisted in a harried, but still quiet tone. "The people flock to him. When asked of whom or what comes to mind when they think of Hyrule, they do not say her mighty castle, her fields of emerald green, or azure rivers and lakes. They do not say her bountiful harvest, or fine steeds. No, they speak of one man whom they believe embodies all of our glorious land." The speaker shifted to lean even further forward. "When asked who protects them-their homes, their families, their very lives-from the thieves and demons of the desert they do not say Hyrule's mighty army, as yet undefeated, nor do they say her king, who rules with infinite wisdom. No, they speak of one man, the same man, whom each hamlet will claim has been helped or saved by him in some way."
The monarch frowned, the beginnings of anger sparking in his eyes. The noble who spoke to him inwardly smiled as he cunningly and skillfully guided the king down the path of jilted wrath. He kept his features carefully schooled into a mask of indignant concern on behalf of his lord, leaning back just slightly.
"Instead, they disparage the Royal Family. They claim the tithes they pay and the soldiers they may temporarily home during campaigns to eradicate the demons of the desert an unfair and unnecessary burden. In the taverns and inns across our fair land they talk, albeit in hushed tones, of how they wish someone like him could be raised to the throne instead and how they would leap to help him do so."
The king's gaze sharpened at the mentions of potential insurrection. It was true that taxes had been raised in recent years, and indeed it was to support the armies sent to snuff out bands of demons and bandits in the great desert that were becoming too organized, too powerful with alarming frequency. He had not thought that the people were so discontent as to wish for a different ruler, much less have someone in mind already. The noble allowed his satisfaction to build internally as he watched the king. Nearly everything he'd said thus far was true to a point. The common folk were unhappy about increased taxes and they did adore that menace of a hero. However, none had actually gone so far as to throw their support and allegiance to another potential ruler. Nor did he-or anyone, really-truly believe that the so-called hero would accept it, even if they did. The king, as removed from the common man as he was, had no idea of that, though; nor would the noble be informing him of it.
"Tell me, Lord Dagianis, how has the Hero responded to the… praises of the populace?" The king asked.
The noble sat back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, "He has done nothing to stop them, my liege. If anything, he is pleased that they approve of him so." Not a lie. The Hero had done nothing to stop them because there was nothing to stop and he did love to make anyone and everyone he met smile.
The king's gaze darkened, "He shall have to be brought before me. I shall speak to him and if he cannot, or will not, control his arrogance he will be thrown into the dungeons to rot."
Dagianis frowned slightly. What the king proposed would not be enough. If the hero was brought here to speak with the king, no matter what preconceptions had been laid, the lie would be revealed for what it was and he, Dagianis, would be punished, and perhaps even executed for his plotting. The exact opposite of what he was attempting to achieve: the rank of duke for revealing an insurrection before it happened. He leaned forward once more, laying his trump card out on the table.
"With all due respect, my liege, I do not believe that to be wise," here, he paused to see if any offense would be taken by the king and continued when the king nodded for him to go on. "The Hero has been taken by a madness of some sort. He claims to foresee a future of darkness for our fair land. A darkness heralded by a corrupt ruler which will lead to the kingdom's downfall. He has sworn to take whatever actions necessary to prevent this from happening. He may, in his insanity, believe that you are the herald of this future and strike you down to prevent it." Dagianis felt another flicker of cold satisfaction as the king's face paled in the flickering candlelight. The Hero's prowess with any weapon was well known among all and the king knew that even the royal guard could not stop him if he decided to perform a coup de grace.
A trickle of cold sweat ran down the king's brow as he imagined being slain by the Hero. He swallowed heavily before speaking again, "What, then, do you suggest we do?"
Finally the cold smile Dagianis had been withholding spread across his face and he leaned forward with his elbows on the desk and informed the king of his plan. He had several powerful political allies to back him; all he had needed was the king's support. His eyes glittered cruelly in the dying light of the candle burning on the desk.
Outside the castle, the storm continued to rage as cold and treacherous as the plot unfurling within.
Link leaned against the trunk of a large oak tree on the edge of the market square of Kakariko Village and closed his bright blue eyes with a content sigh. A gentle summer breeze blew his blond bangs in front of face and rustled the edges of the green tunic he wore over his chainmail. A rhythmic banging noise caused him to reopen his eyes and he watched as the stalls for tomorrow's market were set up.
He had just finished escorting a wagon train of supplies from the capital to the town. An increase in monster sightings along the road had made travelers and merchants wary of traversing the vast fields on their own, so he had volunteered to make bi-weekly trips with supplies to ward off any monsters that dared to attack. The latest run had been entirely uneventful. There had been no attacks, no bad weather that caused the roads to turn to sticky mud that clung to clothes and skin or trapped wagon wheels, there hadn't even been any incidents of horses and oxen getting injured and causing delays. Instead, the sun had been shining each day and the nights had been pleasantly warm and the company had been jovial, with lighthearted conversation during the day and singing each night. It had been an enjoyable trip for once, one that Link knew he would miss during the skirmishes happening along the desert border.
"But those are thoughts for tomorrow," Link thought with a small yawn, sliding down the trunk. The warm morning sun combined with the light breeze lulled him to doze. "Days like these are too nice to be spent thinking about future or past battles," was the last thought he had before slipping into a light sleep.
Several hours passed before an instinct engrained in him forced Link back to complete awareness; he could sense somebody standing in front of him. Link could tell they were not hostile so he merely blinked sleepily to see a small group of children standing before him, each with a hopeful smile on their face. Letting out a grin of his own he stood up and stretched. "Have you all been good boys and girls?" Link asked and watched with a broadening smile as they each nodded enthusiastically.
One small girl with brown hair pulled into twin braids and freckles across her nose bounced up and down on her feet and asked all of the questions they all wanted to ask in a rapid-fire, "Yes, yes! So, will you play with us again? Can we play tag, or maybe hide-and-seek? What have you been doing? Do you have any new stories? Did you beat a buncha monsters? Did you finally meet the king? Can you teach us to shoot a slingshot this time or maybe…" Link's laugh interrupted the young girl.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down and let me answer those one at a time! First, of course we can play tag. Second, I have a bunch of stories involving monsters I beat up that I can tell you after lunch. Third, no I have not met the king yet; he's a very busy man, after all. And finally: no I will not be teaching you all to use any more of my stuff as I would like my ears in one, non-stretched piece when I leave tomorrow; which your mothers would not agree to if we broke another window." He smiled at the sheepish put-out looks on all of their small faces at that last one. "Now then, I'll be it first. I'll count to ten, so start running! One, two, three…"
As Link counted, he watched the kids scatter with shrieks of laughter. Adults paused in what they were doing to smile at the young man who never minded taking the time to play with the children, no matter how tired he was. Reaching ten, Link started a slow jog after a young boy with messy brown hair being sure to let the kid stay laughing just ahead of him for a little while before reaching out to touch his shoulder and running off shouting, "You're it, Tommy!"
The sun was just setting when Link finally waved good-bye to village children as the left to eat dinner. He turned and made his way to the inn with a bright smile, nodding to the villagers who bowed to him along the way. He opened the inn door and, after a brief exchange with the inn keeper, laid a red rupee down on the counter before accepting his room key and a small plate of food, and trudged up the stairs to his room. Once he was inside, Link set his sword and shield against the wall and sat down on the lone chair to scarf his food down hungrily, having skipped lunch in favor of sharing stories with the kids. He smiled at the thought of their eyes bright with wonder and excitement as he told them about his recent run-in with a pair of Wolfos; the censored version, of course. They were so innocent, and every time he saw them, he was reminded of why he fought so often and so hard; it was in hopes that they wouldn't be threatened or forced to fight or wind up having to grow up without one or both of their parents because their mother or father had been killed by monsters like his own had been. Link also loved that they never bowed before him and called him "Hero" every time they saw or spoke to him; it was discomforting every time it happened. "I just slay monsters, that's hardly a reason to practically worship me," Link thought in mild exasperation.
Twisting his back in a stretch and listening to the satisfying clicks, Link looked over at the bed. It was a single sized mattress with a simple, but warm quilt spread over it and a fluffy pillow for his head. Despite its comfortable appearance, Link grimaced slightly at the sight of it. "It seems like every time I sleep I have that nightmare, always exactly the same: legions of monsters led by a demon king and a voice telling me to beware." It could just be the result of stress of too many battles recently, and certainly, that was Lord Dagianis had thought when Link had mentioned them to him, but Link was sure that it was a warning from the Gods of an impending crisis. The young man sighed and decided to take a brief walk around the town before he went to sleep in hopes that the cool night air would calm his thoughts.
He snagged his sword and shield back up and left his room. By this time almost all of the patrons in the front room had retired, though Link spotted the inn keeper speaking to an armored knight near the door. Link recognized the knight's coat of arms as the symbol of the Royal Family's personal guard. Both of them looked up at the appearance of the Hero and, to Link's surprise, the inn keeper beckoned him over. Link strode over to stand with them, his clear blue eyes showing his confusion and mild alarm that something was wrong; after all, why else would a member of the Royal Guard be here?
With a brief wave, the knight dismissed the innkeeper and then motioned for Link to join him outside. Link relaxed slightly as he knew that whatever was wrong, it was not an immediate problem, as the knight showed no tension. Once outside, the Hero was taken aback at the sight of a dozen more Royal Guards waiting for them by the entrance of Kakariko along with one mounted nobleman Link recognized as Duke Farrawell, though, he had never met him in person before. The young swordsman knelt before the lord and waited to hear what was needed of him.
Duke Arton Farrawell watched as the guard he had sent to the inn to find the Hero Link returned with a man dressed in green clothes with his sword and shield strapped across his back. He observed the fluid grace with which the man moved; the tell-tale sign of an experienced fighter. He also noted that the way the man's sword was placed indicated him to be a left-handed swordsman. Neither or these observances were a surprise, though; Link was well known to be left-handed and a talented warrior. What took Duke Farrawell by surprise was the apparent youth of the Hero. "The man cannot be much older than nineteen or twenty," Farrawell realized in shock. "How can this boy be the mighty hero everyone speaks of, capable of taking down an entire army of monsters single-handedly?" It didn't add up in the lord's eyes, at least, not yet. When he gave kneeling figure permission to rise he was taken aback once again, this time by how short the man was. Link was barely even average height, and while his arms were well toned and his shoulders broad, that was not enough to be the master warrior everyone knew him as. It wasn't until Link made eye contact that the Duke began to realize just how dangerous this man was.
The hero's eyes were a clear piercing blue that seemed to glow in the light cast by the full moon. The blue gaze currently held confusion, but they still seemed to see right through Farrawell and were able to read everything about the man in one glance. His eyes seemed to be both youthful and yet wise beyond his years at once. And when Link took in the wary stance of the knights that surrounded them, his gaze hardened and a blue fire ignited within it. "This is not just some man who is good with a sword," Farrawell realized with a slight shiver as the fierce gaze swept around the ring of ready knights before snapping back to meet his own, with an almost hostile light in them. "He clearly has the power, courage, and skill to take on the world, but, if Dagianis is right, and he has been taken by madness, then he no longer has the wisdom to use those gifts for good. I can see why this man must be removed for the safety of Hyrule."
Farrawell subtly shook himself out of the trance Link's eyes had placed him under and brought out a scroll from under his cloak. A knight with a lantern stood close by to provide the necessary light required to read text. Clearing his throat, the misguided Duke read the parchment aloud in a clear tone, "'By the order of His Royal Majesty, King Althren Lenth Hyrule VII, I, Arton Farrawell, Duke of Eldin, hereby place Link under arrest for charges of conspiring against the throne. In light of recent events and evidence placed before His Majesty, Link shall henceforth be brought to and detained indefinitely at the Arbiter's Grounds unless further, sufficient evidence declaring his innocence is brought to light.'" Rolling the scroll up once more, Duke Farrawell sneered down at the visibly stricken former hero, "It has been signed by the majority of the King's Council. Enjoy your stay at the maximum security prison, swine. May your madness be contained within her mighty walls." He then motioned for heavy shackles to be placed around Links wrists. "Should you attempt to resist, we have been cleared to execute you here and now," he added in a dark tone when Link backed away from the guard.
Link froze in place, blond bangs hiding his face in shadow before he slowly reached up to unbuckle the leather across his chest and allowed his sword and shield to fall with a clatter to the ground. His arms were roughly grabbed by two guards while a third forced his wrists behind his back and into the heavy manacles. He stood silently while the guardsmen gathered his sword and shield, formed two lines on either side of him, and then prodded him in the back to start walking. He resisted for a brief moment and finally looked up at Duke Farrawell, who sat smugly on his horse. The young man's blue eyes were chips of ice and the gaze he leveled at the Duke was colder than a Freezard's breath. The blood rushed out of the Duke's face and he lost his smug look in favor of one filled with dread at the gaze Link leveled at him. Link said nothing but nodded to the Duke and began the long march towards prison. As the group vanished into the darkness of the night, a sudden frigid breeze, colder than the winter's wind whipped around were Farrawell and his horse.
The arrest of the Hero had happened without a hitch, Hyrule was safe from his madness. But, as he stared after the group, Duke Farrawell could not help suddenly wondering if the uncharacteristically cold wind was a sign of the Gods disapproval.
A/N: I'm actually rather pleased with this one. :)
Please leave me a review with your thoughts, comments, or corrections if you spotted some egregious error(s)! Thank you for reading!