Author's Note: Everyone who has ever visited online Zelda forums knows that the series' timeline has long been a subject of contentious debate among fans. Over the years, I've developed my own theory of how the games that reference the Hero of Time (Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask, Wind Waker) fit together. This fanfic will take that theory as a starting point and explore a bit to see what can be done with the idea. I'm eager to find out what you all think!

I recommend this story primarily to people who have played all three of the games mentioned above. If you haven't, then there will be some elements that don't make sense….

Now, go home, Link. Regain your lost time!
Home... where you are supposed to be...
the way you are supposed to be...
~Princess Zelda (OoT)

Prologue

[Many, many years in the future…]

Flames engulfed the fields of Hyrule. The once-vibrant green grass was scorched and lifeless; trees weakened and fell under the onslaught, fueling the raging fires, whose unearthly glow was reflected in the sky itself. Half covered by clouds, the heavens gleamed a menacing dark red that served to swallow rather than spread the light of the sun. The air was awash with the twin stenches of blood and destruction as untold hordes picked their way across the fire-drenched land—Moblins and Bokoblins and other demonic creatures. Their leader was a gargantuan, bipedal, horned beast who stood away from the area of fighting and watched them from afar, and though a thick forest surrounded him, he was so large that his pig-like head and dark green upper body were clearly visible above the trees; most likely, he could be seen from any corner of this world that went by the name "Hyrule." His hide was covered in scars and stained with old blood, but his malevolent eyes were full of life. In his hands he held twin gold-colored blades—like immense knives—which he waved about every so often, pointing them this way and that as he gave orders to his troops.

At the moment, the great beast had his eyes on a distant village, a small Hylian settlement on the outskirts of Hyrule Castle Town. The villagers had dug a trench around their cluster of homes and built a medium-high stone wall behind it as an attempt to keep the invaders out; their soldiers battled outside this perimeter and exerted every possible effort to defeat or at least repel the demonic army. Thus far, their tactics were working… to a point. The wall had crumbled in a handful of isolated spots, most of which also contained a monster's corpse with arrows sticking out of its back—picked off by the soldiers outside the village, or the hidden archers inside, before it got any farther. The village's civilian population was terrified at the sight of these areas where the wall had collapsed, but no one dared go out to make repairs. The doors into the villagers' houses were all shut and locked firmly. All… except one.

Slowly, the back door of one home opened, and a little boy of about six years stepped outside. Immediately, the omnipresent smell of burnt matter made him cough, but he was not to be deterred from his objective. He closed the door behind him and cautiously made his way toward the outer perimeter, concealing himself behind buildings whenever possible. Here and there, the grass was encrusted with dark monster blood, and of course the sight of the dead monsters around the perimeter made his stomach sink, but he forced himself to press on. At least there were no dead Hylians. Not here, at any rate; the boy was under no illusions that this war had been kind to the Hylians. Any dead Hylians would be outside the wall.

For several long minutes he crept along the wall's interior, until at last he found what he sought: a battered, rolled-up scroll that lay amid a few fallen bricks—for, by some coincidence, this was one of the areas of the wall that had experienced a partial breach. A foot or so away was a severed Moblin hand, claws and all, that lay almost on its side, like some Wallmaster that had descended from above at breakneck speed, missed its mark, and passed out upon landing. The hand's palm faced in the scroll's direction—almost as if the Moblin had been reaching for it at the moment of death.

A chill swept through the boy, and he shivered with a sudden feeling of dread as he bent over to pick the scroll up. His parents had given him the document only a few days ago: it was to provide him with "aspirations," whatever those were. He had been looking at it yesterday, and sitting in this spot, when the order had been given for all civilians to take shelter indoors. In his haste to return home, he had dropped the scroll on the ground; but now he had found it again.

Still standing near the perimeter wall, listening to the faint sounds of battle that were audible from the other side, he unrolled the long piece of parchment. Based on what his parents had told him, it seemed this scroll told the story of some ancient legend. There was a great deal of narrow, spidery Hylian script, which he still could not read with any skill; his best clue as to what this story was about would come from the many pictures that accompanied the written text. Pictures….

Yes. There.

One panel displayed the image he had been seeking, that had lingered in his mind since yesterday. Like the other pictures, it was really just a crude drawing, and it showed what looked to be a battlefield surrounded by stylized flames. One side of this battlefield was occupied by a giant monster with a pig's head….

He backtracked a few steps so he could look over the wall at the huge monstrosity that was visible on the distant horizon, waving one of its immense blades. The monster in the picture was holding similar blades. In fact, though the drawing was just an outline with no color drawn inside the lines, it looked a lot like the… thing… that was out there….

"By the goddesses! There you are!" exclaimed a familiar female voice. The boy turned around to see his mother approaching him rapidly. She was a tall, proud woman with dark blonde hair, whose very demeanor and way of carrying herself commanded respect. Like all Hylians of her age, she was a trained fighter; even now, she was equipped with a bow and a long hunting knife. However, at this moment, fighting would be a last resort for her, as her first responsibility was to ensure the safety of her son.

"I told you to stay inside!" she fumed. "What do you have to say for yourself?!"

"I was looking for this," the boy said simply, indicating the scroll. "The monster here…"

Now that she could see that her son was unharmed, the woman's anger gradually evaporated, and she stepped closer to look at the part of the scroll that held the boy's attention. "I can guess what you're thinking," she said with a sigh. "Yes. The monster out there now, who's trying to destroy us—that's him, the ancient enemy. That's Ganon…."

The boy unfurled the scroll a bit more, so that the other half of the stylized battlefield could be seen in its entirety. "But then who's that?" he asked, pointing at a short, Hylian-like figure. The green of the figure's clothing and the yellow of a strange triangle that hovered over the figure's head were the only two spots of color in the entire picture.

His mother smiled slightly. "That's the Hero of Time," she told him. "The most courageous Hylian who has ever lived. It was because of this bravery that the gods entrusted him with a part of the sacred Triforce"—she pointed at the yellow triangle—"and it's also why he wears the green of Farore."

The boy studied the green figure intently. It did look brave; in fact, it held a sword raised high as if to challenge the huge pig-like creature.

"It was the Hero of Time who saved everyone, many years ago. He was kind and always willing to help people in need. It is said that heroic deeds followed him wherever he went, leaving everyone who crossed his path filled with happiness. And time was as nothing to him—he could travel forward and backward as he chose." The woman shook her head in awe. "Truly… truly an extraordinary person."

For a long moment, the boy continued to stare at the drawing; then, suddenly, he looked up and met his mother's gaze. "But if he's a hero, then… then why won't he—"

Loud footsteps and a shout interrupted him. Recognizing the voice, he turned around immediately to witness the arrival of a very tall, brown-haired man clad in the silver armor of a Hylian knight. His father.

"Father, Mother just told me about—"

"Not now, son," said the brown-haired man. He was panting heavily from running, and now he sheathed his sword with one hand while wiping sweat from his forehead with the other. Both his sword and his armor were spattered with Moblin blood. "You two shouldn't be out here; it's not safe."

"What news is there from the front?" his wife asked.

"Quite a bit—and nothing good. New Kakariko has fallen, and the few survivors have fled to the nearby mountains. All indications are that we're next; our long-range scouts are reporting that the enemy's main force is advancing in our direction. They're coming in huge numbers—far beyond what we've seen so far. And you know that we and a couple of other villages are the last line of defense. If we fall, then the enemy will essentially have Castle Town for the taking."

"Not good at all," said the blonde woman. "What of the Sages? Can we expect any help from them?"

"They're praying in the Temples. No word yet if their prayers will have any effect." He broke off abruptly, scanning the sky. "And it looks like a storm is coming. Not ideal weather for fighting a war."

It was true: dark storm clouds had started to gather in the unnaturally red sky. The biggest, thickest storm clouds that anyone had ever seen.

"But right now," he went on, putting one hand on his wife's back and the other on his son's back as if to push them toward the village's interior, "you need to go back insi—"

Just at that moment, there was a whoosh overhead as a hail of arrows rained down. Flaming arrows. They buried themselves in each of the village's buildings—every last one of which was made from wood. Already, people were running outside, coughing in the smoke as the fires took root and spread.

"Change of plans," the man said quickly. "Flee to the mountains with the other refugees; there's been little to no enemy activity there thus far. I will stay here and help hold off the enemy forces. When they're gone, I'll come and find you."

The boy had returned to staring at his scroll by this point, but if he had been looking at his parents, he would have seen the heartbroken expression that suddenly appeared on his mother's face. "We can't just leave—" she began.

"You can, and you will! Now, go! As I said, I will join you later." And without another word, the tall knight drew his sword and ran back through the gap in the wall in the direction of the battle zone.

Sighing, fighting back a sense of irrepressible sadness, the blonde woman reached down to take the boy's hand in her own. "Come on, sweetie, we need to get ourselves to safety so your father can focus on the battle…."

The boy's head jerked up in alarm. "We're leaving? But… but the Hero of Time…!"

"He will come," she soothed. "Now, we need to go. You want to be able to see him when he arrives, don't you?"

The boy obediently followed his mother through the ruins of the destroyed village, but when they reached the trail that led to the mountains, he yanked his hand free of hers so that he could open the scroll once more. As he walked the hard-packed trail at his mother's heels, the ink of the pictures and text began to smudge from his tears, mingled with the first drops of rain that had started to fall. Staring down at the image of the Hero of Time battling Ganon, he tried to put a stop to his crying while he murmured his mother's words over and over.

"He will come… he will come…."