Spectre

A Twilight Princess Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I don't own TP, or Zelda, for that matter.

'Once upon a time, a Hero arose in the darkest hours of Hyrule's history. Taking up the legendary blade, the bane of evil, he made to seal away the shadow that cast itself over the land. None could have known, however, the terrible effects the sword's freedom could have wreaked upon the realm. Now, that same Hero must set out once more; for Hyrule, for the very streams of Time themselves, and for personal retribution. But Time itself, undone by his deeds is against him, and only the foolhardy favor the brave.'

Chronicles of Hyrule, circa 139: Court Advisor to Queen Zelda Hyrule XII

Prologue: Memories of Dust

Hyrule was beautiful at night. Stars lit overhead and the grass rolled in sweeping green waves darkened by the evening, though the green was fading to brown. A chirp cut through the air from a small smattering of brush beneath a tall oak tree, and with a grunt Link rolled over onto his side, pulling the lip of his cap further down upon his eyes. The frosty ground beneath him was hard and most definitely uncomfortable, but he made himself deal with it. It was a cool time in the country, autumn coming on swift and chilly from the mountains. Midna lay curled in his shadow for warmth, but that wouldn't change the fact they were both freezing. This particular stretch of Hyrule Field was completely without the grass he would normally utilize to call upon Epona, who held most of his sleeping gear within her saddlebags. Thus, they were both forced to go with little to nothing in the way of camp material; only a very thin blanket draped over Link's form to be found.

Link heard Midna grumble close by his ear. Of course, she wasn't close by his ear, but it always sounded that way when she spoke to him from the shadow; no matter if she were pooling about his feet, lulled to sleepiness by the rhythmic pounding of his boots on the earth. She wasn't getting any sleep, either. A shiver ran up his spine, and with a hand, still gloved despite his attempts to sleep pulling the blanket up a little higher to his shoulders. The well-worn soles of his leather boots peeked out from under the rough material, and he curled up a bit to pull them back under.

"Midna?" He inquired softly into the cool night air, breath forming a vaporous cloud before his lips.

She shifted close to his face. "What?" She sounded both irritated and relieved, as if she was upset he had disturbed her attempts at sleep, yet glad that he had broken the suffocating silence around both of them.

"Think you can do something about the cold with your magic?" He knew it was useless to ask; knew it would probably just rouse her temper, shortened by less success in hunting than usual and the icy breeze. There was nothing she could do with her magic that she hadn't done already, which was nothing at all. He waited for the inevitable snap to crackle across his face, his ears, waited for the sharp reprimand that was sure to come.

Instead, there was a sigh. "I'm sorry, Link. I can't do anything." He received the most vague impression she had snuggled closer to his shoulder for heat.

Shocked at the apology, the first he had ever received from her, Link fell silent. But despite the freezing wind, despite the frigid earth and grass seeping chilly through his tunic to stab at his skin, he felt the air had grown a little bit warmer.

"Link?"

Blue eyes snapped open, startled and sharp. They darted around, searching for the source of the voice, to see how close it was to him. He sat atop a gently rolling hill, though even the unworldliest denizen could hardly call the slight swell of the ground a hill.

A hand at his shoulder jerked him in surprise, and Fado pulled his hand back gingerly, all too aware of the hunting gaze directed at him.

"You all right there, Link? You were spacing out a bit for a while."

Link shivered and shook his hands, glad for the warm gloves encasing them. They looked terribly out of place with his hand-sewn farm clothes, the worked leather contrasting sharply with the stained, aged linen. He looked about, noting that the goats were still yet in the field munching away on grass; some in small knots and still others off on their own; solitary.

He took a deep breath and levered himself to his feet. The sandals that he was both at home with and alienated from did little to shield the sides of his feet from the tickling grass, but he pushed the sensation away with long practice. It disturbed him that he felt foreign to them, six months after his return to Ordon after nearing twice as many months away. He had spent his whole life up until that point wearing one form of sandal or another, after all.

"I'm fine. Just…I'm fine. Just thinking."

Fado looked at him strangely, one hand wrapped tight around the reins of Epona's mouthpiece. Slowly he nodded, though his gaze never left the wearied lines of the blond's visage. Concern writ its own lines on his face.

"Alright," He acceded. Epona tossed her head, perhaps sensing the hidden turmoil seething within her master, and Fado gingerly quieted her with a pat on her muzzle. "It's getting late. The goats need to be wrangled in."

Link looked around, noting for the first time the dying rays of the sun peeking futilely off the mountains in the far distance. The land was bathed in orange and red, the brown of autumn a still sea beneath. The grass felt dry and dead on his toes. He took Epona's reins from Fado, grimacing to himself as the man stepped away. Fado was eyeing him as if expecting him to pop, or do something completely irrational like break down. He couldn't possibly look that bad; a little sleep lost only brought slight bags to his eyes. Nothing drastic.

He mounted the mare, feeling infinitely more comfortable in the high-cantled saddle than he did upon the ground. He offered a smile to Fado, hoping to reassure him—and send him away at the same time. It worked; Fado left him be, moving instead to unlock the gates to the goats' pen, preparing for Link to herd them in.

The task took no more than a few minutes; years of riding on horseback and deftly maneuvering Epona through the throngs of goats showed itself in the flow of her hooves, the ease with which he drove one goat, solitary in the corner of the pen charging for cover within a thick pack not fifteen feet away. Its sudden appearance startled the rest, but Link cut around them from behind, forcing them, leaving them but the one choice of rushing to the open gates of the building.

Fado hailed him jubilantly as he swiftly shut the gates, ignoring the braying issuing at him from behind the wood. He smiled up at Link, concern over his partner's emotional state temporarily forgotten in the normalcy of their routine.

"Great riding! Do you think I could have a go on her?"

Link smiled despite himself, a slight shake of his head his answer. Fado's face fell but he waved the blond on, telling him he'd better hurry—there wasn't much daylight left in the day by which to bathe the horse. Some things never changed.

Riding through the village on his way to the Spring, Link found himself gazing around the wooden lodgings that made up the area. Folk whom he grew up with waved at him, calling enthusiastic greetings as the day neared its end. Uli acknowledged him from the riverside, where she had taken to sitting with the cradle containing her seven month-old baby girl. She rocked the cradle carefully and slowly, humming under her breath a lullaby. She smiled at Link as he passed, and he turned away after giving one in kind. He remembered all too keenly her and Rusl both trying to name him godfather, even though she had been born a month before he had returned to the village. He hadn't even been there when she came into the world, he'd argued, and so didn't feel right accepting the honor.

Uli wasn't the only one to address him on the winding path back to his home, and beyond, the Spring. Talo and Beth were near her mother's shop, sitting in the shade; Malo was nowhere to be seen, and even as Link rode past them (quickening Epona's pace to a trot) he found this unusual. They both had half-risen from their lazy perches, eager expressions devouring their features, but Link swiftly waved them down. He didn't have the energy to deal with either of them right now. Beth's father nodded in his direction as he passed, the last person to take note of his retirement before the deep shade of the trees enveloped him.

Maybe his geographical separation from the rest of the village had enforced his recent need for privacy and solitude, but at least the edge of the forest was soothing. Here the slight hustle and bustle of the village faded within the chirping of late afternoon birds, the rustle of leaves as a breeze swept by and the crunch of freshly fallen leaves beneath Epona's hooves. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask in the sudden, relative quiet: breathing in, slow and deep. Epona snorted and tossed her head slightly, pale mane flying about her neck. Link patted her affably.

"Almost there," He muttered fondly. He swung down from her saddle after a moment, taking her by the bridle to lead her further into the wood. It wasn't that she didn't know the way, but Link had forever been iffy on leaving her alone since his days of adventuring; it had been Ilia's spiriting her away that led to them.

He cringed at that thought, hurriedly shutting the floodgates in his mind. He always had to be careful; even the barest reminisce of six months ago was enough to have images and voices flash through his mind faster than he could rid himself of them, melting in a cacophony of emotions, horrors and cold nights. He had already determined to forget it; dwelling upon the impossible had done him no good in the days following that, and it was a harsh lesson to learn, but one he mastered with a ferocity that stunned even him.

The Spring was glistening beautifully in the pre-dusk light remaining, and Link settled about ridding her of the saddle. The burdens fell to the ground with as much care as Link could make himself afford them, the mouthpiece the last to go. Epona neighed at him.

"Good girl. Let's get you cleaned up…"

The water felt good on his bare skin, gloves abandoned on the shore. He had sweated in them terribly all day, but Link could never really bring himself to doff them, save for washing. He had just grown too used to wearing them for that to happen.

A thin cake of yellow soap—specially developed for horseflesh—in hand, he began to scrub her down, taking particular care with the areas around her hooves and flanks. Tics liked to gather there. It was his last bar, purchased on his final visit to Castle Town; he'd need to buy more soon.

Link grimaced as the slick bar slipped from his wet hand, and he bent to retrieve it. As he reached for the soap, though, a slight flicker of motion caught from the reflection cast by the water behind him drew his attention. His eyes snapped to them with intensity, but he deliberately kept his movements casual, plucking the bar from the sudsy water. He slowly straightened, and before the splash of water announcing his stalker's approach reached his ears he had whirled about, left hand subconsciously reaching over his shoulder to grasp air.

He blanched in horror and recognition of the action, even as his eyes landed on the source of the Spring's disturbance. Ilia stood watching him with a blend of caution and surprise.

"I didn't think you'd see me," She said, after the silence had dragged on between them for several heartbeats. Link sighed, letting his hand fall back to his side. That had been too close: if he really did still have a weapon to draw…

He shivered ever so slightly, but managed to convince himself it was the chill of the liquid seeping between his toes and not his thoughts. He managed a smile.

"I, ah, saw your reflection in the water." That wouldn't explain his bizarre reaction, though. He didn't realize he had been holding his breath until Ilia nodded her acceptance, her own countenance brightening.

"I thought you'd be here. You've been taking such good care of Epona lately." She moved forward, bare feet sweeping receding furrows in the water. Epona allowed her to pat her muzzle, and Ilia turned to Link. The scene struck a chord in him, and a half-formed memory flitted through his mind before he could stop himself—

Ilia smiled at him, absently stroking Epona's muzzle. The twilight played on her hair, highlighting the short strands gold. He had never realized how pretty she was before, even as he felt himself flush in embarrassment at the thought. Still, he couldn't stop smiling at her; Colin might as well not have existed, for all he stood there watching the scene in his youthful awkwardness. Silence lay thick on the Spring, and Link felt it could go on forever.

They didn't have forever, and even as the gates barring the Spring from the rest of the forest splintered open in a shower of wood shavings he knew something was wrong.

"…nk?"

"Huh?"

Ilia frowned at him, an odd expression pulling at her normally quaint features. "Are…Are you okay? You…don't look so good."

Link started with awareness. His hand had once again moved to hover over his shoulder, and his whole body tensed, coiled like a snake awaiting the perfect opportunity to strike. Even his face felt pinched in concentration on the illusion.

He forced himself to relax. His hand he yanked before him, grasping the rebellious appendage with the other; he absently rubbed at where the Triforce piece had once glowed. "I'm fine. I haven't…been getting much sleep lately. That's all."

The small, somewhat frightened gleam faded from her green eyes, and she allowed herself a tentative smile. "You really should look after yourself better. Taking care of Epona doesn't mean you can neglect yourself!" Instantly she had recovered herself, hands planted on hips as she surveyed him from top to toe.

He shifted, uncomfortable with her close scrutiny. He wasn't neglecting himself…But what good was arguing? He had never managed to win once. He had almost as much trouble with Ilia as with—

He bit his tongue, stilling all thoughts crossing his mind. No. No, he wouldn't think on that. He wouldn't let it haunt him. He wouldn't! It was bad enough his thoughts had strayed into the whirlpool of memories earlier at the ranch.

He didn't realize she had moved until the splash of water sifted into his ears. He whipped his head to the side, watching as she clambered out of the pool. She was already toeing her sandals back on.

"Get some sleep tonight, and make sure you eat something, too. You look too thin."

With that, she was gone. Link stared after her for a few moments, unconsciously flexing his sword hand. Epona neighed at him, irritated at his continued negligence of her care. He jumped, and gave her a sheepish grin. He still held all thoughts immobile in his head.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming…"

He finished her bath slowly, though a part of him demanded he hurry with the task. He adamantly ignored that part of his brain, scrubbing her coat with a deliberate firmness. Once he scrubbed too hard in his desperation to keep unwanted thoughts from flooding him, and Epona pulled away with displeasure.

By the end of it he was thoroughly disgusted with himself. Re-saddling Epona, he took her by the reins and began to make his way home. By this time almost all light had faded; twilight had descended on the land, a thick veil of utter silence. Silence he liked, most of the time. Not tonight, though: silence was no guard against the whims of his mind to take wild flights of fancy into the past.

He had once loved the Twilight. He wasn't sure he did anymore.

A/N: You remember that story I mentioned in passing at the end of Not So Obedient? Yeah…this is it; or the prologue, anyways. A note for all who intend to read: this story definitely isn't top priority, so if I don't update for a long while, you'll now know why. Still, though, I've wanted to write this, and now seemed as good a time as any to type it up.

Critique welcome; I'm entirely unused to writing the Ordonian folk, Ilia included, so some pointers on their characters would be nice.

And Midna/Link? Maybe… :)