Title: A little boy lost.
Summary: It's as though hundreds of years of heritage flow through his veins.
Disclaimer: I cannot lay claim to any of the Legend of Zelda franchise, but I do love it.
Authors Note: N/A
It is as though hundreds of years of heritage flow through his veins when the green cotton slips over his head and shoulders; the old green tunic evokes memories he wasn't aware he even owned. He remembers masks, dungeons and an eerie glowing sword set in stone. He can taste iron and copper on his tongue and a sickly sweet berry taste that fills him with confidence. He can almost feel the rough string of a longbow on his fingers, his skin blisters in his mind, the material strains in his rough hands.
When he closes his eyes a thousand Hyrulians flash before his eyes, each different from the last, the landscape and architecture of his homeland moulded by fierce battles; it's all so familiar but nothing like the Hyrule he knows. He witnesses a hunderd years of monsters, demons and spirilling towers. A hundred years of princesses, all named Zelda, all beautiful with flaxen hair and smiles that could melt or break even the strongest mans heart. He remembers strong, noble horses, powerful boats that change form, trains running on the power of spirits and his feet blistered and bleeding in ill fitting boots; walking for miles in the harshest of weather, uncaring and driven by love, heroism and glory. He reminisces about the sensation of being pulled apart by blue light that disorientated him and causes him to reappear in the the doorway of temples, blinking into bright lights and on the brink of death.
He remembers dying. He remembers each and every bow, sword and bite that puncture his skin and cause infections. He remembers each bomb blast that knock him against walls and give him concussions. He remembers each time these occurances resulted in death; he could describe each incident to those around him and though he bore no scars he could place his fingers to the exact points of entry.
Every princess saved, every fairy met, potions devoured and weapons wielded. They all ran through his blood, cold as ice.