AN: If you have stumbled upon this, let it be known that this is my first fanfic. Ever. If you read it, take caution for I do not know how well a writer I am. I was going to use it as the first chapter in an adaptation of Twilight Princess, but the story never launched. So, I decided to turn this into a one-shot. Here it sits before you. If you don't mind, reviews would be amazing. They'd help me a lot. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Have fun! Oh, and I own nothing of this.
The Castletown of Hyrule was cloaked in a shroud of darkness, but that darkness was different than that which resided over Ordon.
As the villagers slept, a large, luminous full moon rose to display it's majesty over the humble stars. As the villagers slept, the Sacred Spring did also, it's crystal waters regular roar slowed to a contented hum that showed its period of rest. As the villagers slept, the outcast awoke.
Although Link was not a true outcast of Ordon, he was not a true villager all the same. With his hair the color of sunlight that hung, rough and unkempt, around his pale face, he could have pulled it off as an Ordonian. But it was then that one noticed his eyes, with the rough fierceness and the color of the sea during a storm. They were eyes that were wild, eyes that held a lust for power. Eyes as deep and vast as the midnight they resided under. They weren't the only reason Link was different, however.
He'd never had any parents. From the moment Link had been born into the world, he had lived alone. His house, built into the thick trunk of an oak that had been chopped through the middle, was a half mile's walk from his home village, part of it but not truly. Link could never remember anywhere that he'd lived, except for that forlorn place. And he'd always lived there alone, without anyone whom he could call a relative. Over time, he'd found a father in Rusl, the swordsman of Ordon who had taught him many a wonder with a now rugged wooden blade. Still, it wasn't the same as having a real father, that much Link knew to be certain.
Then there was his uncanny gift with animals. It was not as though he could speak their native tongue, for he could not, but all the same no animal had ever feared him, and they listened to his every command. The most skittish hound would no longer be afraid in his presence but instead would act as though he had the courage of a wolf.
Link was not always alone. He had his horse, Epona. She brought him a friendship that he would always be thankful for. Born with one eye a slightly lighter shade than the other and abandoned by her mother, Link had raised her like he had wished his unknown father could have raised him, with much love and compassion. The two of them grew on each other, and Link could understand her like he could understand the village children who were so subconsciously attracted to him. She was his escape from loneliness. He loved nothing more than to ride bareback with her through Ordon's endless fields, to feel the wind seep across him and free him. Link felt as though Epona was the only creature he could really talk to.
But nothing, not even the friendship of a loving horse, could save Link from his dreams.
The moment his eyes closed, the images he saw were nothing but darkness, and he was helpless to stop them. As an outsider he'd viewed devastating fires, terrible illness, starvation and monstrous creatures. He'd watched thousands of Hyrulians suffer, on the brink of death.
This night, however, he had witnessed something much more terrifying.
A man resides on a throne of pure gold. Dirty hair so vibrant it appears to be in flames covers patches of his deep green skin, but does nothing to hide his eyes. His eyes are the color of blood-spattered midnight, and they are so full of hatred that the slightest glance causes flowers to wither and die. They are colder than frost and sting harder than a scorpion. They are eyes that know of pain and suffering and unhappiness, and they are eyes that laugh at it.
"Glathius," he barks. His voice is as rough as sandpaper, as acrid and toxic as acid, as deep and soft as a bottle of poison.
A middle aged man totters forward, dressed in ebony armor, a dagger resting in a sheath that has a large spot of blood upon it. A large red triangle on his breast plate shows his position: head soldier. "Aye, what do it be, your majesty?" he says ever so carefully as he sinks low to one knee. He doesn't want to offend the villain who isn't Hyrule's true king, who took the throne using Princess Zelda's one weak point- her people.
"I have an order for you, Glathius. Far off in the village of Ordon there resides a boy by the name of Link. When you find him, slit his throat and string his organs in the branches of a tree. If left alone, he will prove a threat to my kingdom. He must be stopped and stripped of his power ere he discovers who he truly is. I already have two pieces of the Triforce in my possession, as you already know, Wisdom and Power. But without the other piece, Courage, my goal is meaningless. I need the last piece to gain immortality and rule over this earth for all of eternity." The man who sits on the throne stresses the final sentence, it's utter importance to him lingers in the air, the traces of his deep voice still echo about the stone hall. Glathius trembles slightly, but he musn't show this to the man, or else terrible things would happen.
"Yes, my master. I gladly shall." As Glathius begins to rise, the man rises from his seat and his hand makes contact with Glathius's face. The helmet that rested on his head flies off and clatters across the granite floor.
"You insolent fool!" the greedy ruler roars, his stony glare and foul breath but an inch from the head soldier's now livid face. "How dare you leave the room without addressing me as I commanded. How dare you. I should kill your whole family for that."
"I-I'm sorry, sir." Glathius manages to choke out, though now he is shaking so uncontrollably that he can no longer hide it. Tears are beginning to brim at the corners of his eyes, and all he can think is please, not my family, please. "I shall now address you properly, your highness."
The man smiles, a sight that would make the bravest cringe. "Say it," he whispers in a serpentine, scabrous voice. "Say my name!" he commands, his voice changing to the manner of a lion in no time at all.
Glathius can feel his heart beating to burst his ribcage, and a drop of cold sweat trickles down his muddy forehead. "Yes, of course, sir. Forever do I pledge my allegiance to thee, ruler of all, the wise and glorious Ganondorf."
The man known as Ganondorf sighs, gently pulls his sword from it's scabbard, the lengthy ebony blade shimmers softly.
"You are of no use to me..." he muses out loud. "You failed to address me properly. For that you must pay." Calmly, he takes a step forward and stares at the head soldier, all emotion leaving his eyes. Suddenly, a wicked laugh breaks the silence, rising to a glorious howl of absolute happiness. It was one of the few times he felt truly alive.
"Good bye, Glathius!" he yells. He raises the sword high in the air and it flies like a falcon into Glathius's neck.
"Ah, blood," Ganondorf whispers, sheathing his sword. "Wonderful, magnificent, scarlet blood..."
A yell pierced the deadly silence of Ordon village, so full of pain and anguish that it began to rouse Mayor Bo from his sleep, and he slept the heaviest of all people in Ordon. It was a yell of desolation, a yell of such unspoken sorrow that the source was reduced to curling up in a ball, tears pouring down his face.
Link would never forget those eyes, permanently seared into his memory. He could feel his composure slipping. Through the open window next to his loft bed, a gust of warm air blew across his torso and mingled with the sweat that plastered his chest. Who was that man, Ganondorf? What did he want with Link? No, more importantly, why did he want to kill Link? The very thought only made the boy's fear worse. Surely, he meant another person, for Link had never left the town in which he lived, and if he'd ever met such a horrendous man, surely he would have remembered him. No, that man couldn't possibly be thinking of him. He was just a teenage boy, a simple, quiet kid who was destined to be a horseman. The thought made Link feel a bit better.
Then for the first of many times to come, the pain began. It started in the pal of his left hand, and radiated outward from there, spreading sown past his elbow, stopping at this shoulder. I twas such a searing pain. Link had never experienced such agony. It was worse than the time he'd slipped off a boulder he'd been climbing and broken his femur bone. He felt as though his arm was ripping itself from his body. It felt like all the bones in his arm were breaking. It burned worse than fire.
As suddenly as it started, it stopped. Vanished instantly, deep into the atmosphere. It was eerie, here one moment and gone the next.
Link shoved the tangle of sheets from him, and jumped off his bed with a grace that only comes from many hours of horseback riding. "What is going on?" he murmured. Though the room was cloaked with shadow, he could still make out the faint outline of the objects around him. Quickly, he found his lantern. Striking a match and lighting the lantern, he hung the source of light by his bedpost.
The darkness around him dissolved and an orange glow lit the room. From up in his loft, Link could see the mess that was his home. Random objects lettered the wood floor and red oriental rug- books, bits of paper, a wooden practice sword, several acorns and a bright red apple, thick piles of dust, and a half-whittled flute along with a small knife and a sizeable pile of wood shavings. An adobe fireplace lay dark and full of ash. A dirty couch was shoved randomly next to the fireplace, where it spent its days abandoned and leaking stuffing.
Link stared down at his hand, the source of the pain, the place where it had hurt most. It was still throbbing. The palm of his hand looked normal, but upon further inspection, there was a mark on the other side of his left hand, where upon rested a peculiar symbol. It was a large triangle, with an upside down triangle in the middle that made the while symbol like a pyramid of triangles. The bottom right corner gave off a soft glow, as though to outline that piece's importance to the whole symbol.
Link raised the back of his hand to his face, staring at the symbol.
Just like that, the puzzle fell into place.
"The last third of the Triforce," he whispered. "Courage..."