Author's Note: This story is set about two months or so after the events of Twilight Princess. It includes many references to Ocarina of Time and that game's characters and villains, as well as events that are said to have taken place before that game. Obvious spoilers are included for both games, so be warned. The story revolves around Link and Midna, and the views expressed of their relationship are entirely my own. With that in mind, please enjoy.
Disclaimer- I do not own anything associated with or pertaining to the Legend of Zelda series.
Chapter 1: Legendary War
The midnight blackness was overshadowed in crimson colored smoke so rich and bright that it seemed as though the sky itself had taken on a new shade of color. Shocking flares of angry explosions shot through the night, leaving a carnival of embers dancing in their fiery footsteps. The once beautiful and fertile land was now torn and rugged, every healthy spot of earth uprooted by the sharp spikes of the soldiers' boots.
They marched across the fields of Hyrule, clad in lightweight steel armor that glinted with the light reflected form the surge of blazing flames. They strode in no organized formation or strategic alignment; any thought-out plans for battle had long since been abandoned. Rather, the few soldiers who remained valiant and loyal to their people continued to protect the innocent villagers, while the rest ran rampant and ruthlessly attacked anyone or anything that crossed their path.
The majority of the once respectable men had become savage warriors, crazed from the endless ocean of darkness that was penetrated only by streaming lakes of glossy red flame. All around, they bellowed at the top of their lungs and dueled with monsters, foes, and their own comrades with an equally powerful lust for blood. The metallic clashing of blades rang out in the air, coupled with the whistle of a shower of arrows cascading through the smoldering clouds of heavy dark smoke. These noises erupted across the land and joined with the synchronized screams of terror that were constantly present, forming a sort of symphony of the agonizing clamor of war.
Different races and species all were present amidst the bloodthirsty banquet of the war, eager to bring about the demise of those that opposed their people. The warrior women called Gerudos sprang forth from their position of lurking behind a thick cloud of blossoming scarlet smoke, and issued their fierce battle cries, their screeches echoing throughout the plain. They were accustomed to environments that impaired the senses due to having been raised in a desert wasteland, and so they were able to see what the other soldiers could not. They dashed into the heart of the battle, nimbly dodging the strokes of weapons with more agility than the felines they resembled with their brilliant golden eyes and slanted pupils. Their lustrous ruby red hair streaked behind them as they thrust out the bronze spears they wielded against the battle-mad soldiers.
Near the once crisp blue and dazzling river that snaked through the land, though it was now murky and stained with an abundance of salty blood, another group fought comemorably. The Zoras sliced at the massive bodies of their enemies, the Gorons, with their razor-sharp fins. Using their surprising strength, they flung the rock people headlong into the water, where their bulk pulled them from the smothering, polluted air of the surface to the bottom of the river and to their watery graves. In retaliation, the Gorons seized the slick, scaly bodies of those Zoras unfortunate enough to be caught in their grasp, and violently tore them to pieces. Their vibrant silver blood splattered in puddles on the soiled ground.
The frenzy of war craft had strewn the bodies of those slain all around like rag dolls crushed in the hands of the furious deities of war.
All this, all the madness and fighting and brutality was reflected in the young woman's large, cool eyes that glowed as tantalizingly blue as the Zora's River had not too long ago. She looked on silently at the gruesome scene before her, a once peaceful country now laden with misery and bloodshed. Her tender feet glided across the dampened dirt, sticky with the remains of fallen warriors. Her luminous, creamy pink skin shimmered through the charred and tarnished armor and blackened decay as she continued to flow swiftly through the numerous warring tribes, battered bodies falling all around her. Despite this, her brave spirit remained unplagued by fear.
To her, all of the men fighting had the same features. They all shared one face. A sallow face, gaunt with an overpowering hunger to kill. A face that had been drained of all human emotions, one in which mercy had become as far out of reach as the cosmos. The men who possessed this face were no more than empty shells, their limbs attached to strings being manipulated by the dark intent that had taken over Hyrule. As the woman continued to saunter forward, her hand instinctively slid down to her torso to feel the spot where she had been recklessly stabbed only minutes before. She winced only slightly as she felt just how heavy the flow of blood truly was as the warm liquid gushed between her trembling fingers.
She was running out of time.
The small warm bundle she was clutching to her chest began to wrestle with its blanket and whimper.
"Hush, my dearest," the woman cooed in a gentle, velvety voice. Her moon-colored hair, once as silky as a horse's mane and soft as a rose petal billowed around her, crusted with ash and entwined with scum and mud. Not too far in the distance, she could just barely make out the silhouette of a large tree, and she could almost see the faint traces of a color now lacking from the rest of the landscape- green.
"Not long now," she whispered, panting, her loss of blood making her lush voice raspy and her keen eyesight hazy and blurry. "Did you hear that, my sweet?" she asked softly with a staggering breath, somewhere finding the strength in her slight figure to press onward, summoning every ounce of courage within to urge her weakened body to keep moving. "We're almost to Kokiri forest."
Her gem-like eyes that resembled the clearest blue skies looked like goblets of sparkling water as they were filled to the brim with tears. Without noticing, she had stopped running, and now paused to lift the top of the thick blanket aside just enough to reveal the flushed ivory skin on the face of the little baby.
His pair of long light eyelashes were joined together in sleep. She could see the beginnings of fair blond tufts of hair sprouting out from his tiny head, spilling over the colorful embroidery of the silken gown she had donned him in. He had a few pale freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his button nose, and apple shaped and colored dimples set upon his cheeks. The woman bit back a sad smile at the small bit of purity left among the butchery surrounding them. Fueled with a new determination, she dwarfed the baby further into her arms and nestled his small body in the crook of her neck as she began to run nearly blindly toward the forest, the last hope for her son.
"We're almost there," she repeated, pressing her soft yet now alarmingly cold lips to the smooth forehead of the infant. "You're almost safe… my precious Link."
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Dazzling azure eyes snapped open, only to be greeted with the sight of dewy grass and warm tendrils of light from the newly dawned sun. With a dream that realistic, Link half expected to open his eyes to behold the atrocities of war and utter pandemonium not even three feet away, just as it had been before he woke up. He hoisted himself upright, flexed out his limbs in a sleepy stretch and yawned. It had been quite a long time since he had dreamt of anyone.
At least, dreamt of anyone other than Midna, that is.
It was usually impossible to shake her face form his mind, whether it was either the small, disproportionate and child-like face as the tiny imp he had grown to care for and think of a precious friend, or the gorgeous face of a bewitchingly beautiful woman that Link had only been graced enough to see for a short period of time. Both of her faces were usually responsible for taking his dreams captive, emphasizing just how much he missed her and making him ache for her company even more. But her persistent haunting seemed to have yielded just this once.
Link sighed, allowing his gaze to soak up the delicate pastel hues in the horizon as he mused over what on earth could have sparked such a dream. Maybe it was just because he had drifted into his slumber outside, snuggled in the soft damp grass by Ordon Spring. He didn't usually sleep outdoors, and most certainly not all the way until morning. So perhaps sleeping out on the cold, wet ground had made him dream of warm fire, and his mind had crafted a story to accompany it.
As much as Link's mind seemed to be begging him to accept that logical possibility, he just couldn't seem to quite shake that lurking feeling, the one that was settled in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't be sure, but it was almost like the sharp pang that was dealt repeatedly to his gut was trying to tell him that this nightmare was far more important than he desperately wanted it to be. And even though he prayed with all the might left in his weary, fractured heart that it was just a dream, deep down he knew that his ominous feeling of foreboding was one that should not, and could not, be ignored. It felt as though a barrage of rampaging Ordonian goats were scampering around inside of him, colliding with his stomach in a frantic attempt to get his attention. Link had experienced this feeling before, most often in situations that were not as they appeared. In situations where something was wrong. Very wrong. That, and when Midna did something unintentionally amusing, or when she chastised him in such a silly way that he couldn't help but grin. Except the feeling in his stomach then wasn't at all unpleasant, but instead more fluttery, as if suddenly his stature had become flimsy and unstable. It always had been a very odd sensation. Mere words could not express how much he missed that feeling, as well as the one who had delivered it to him.
Link struggled to stand, inhaling deeply and meeting the newborn sun's gaze with a solemn, troubled stare. That woman's eyes… so similar to the ones he saw as he bent over his reflection in the limpid pool of water. He wished that once more the spirits of light would appear to him now, and offer him their sagacious advice and guidance. But he knew that wish was one that would not soon be granted. He continued to walk. Why had the woman he had fabricated in his sleep had his same eyes? Why had she called her infant by his name? Link rubbed his temples as he approached the gate to his tiny, friendly village.
He forced himself to dismiss it as a coincidence. All that dream had been was a vivid, well thought-out nightmare. Link forced his mind to sip that explanation down, to chug it like wine until his thoughts were numb enough to accept it as reality.
It had been a dream. And nothing more.
