A spring breeze gently blew through the Altean castle window, and the warm sunlight poured in with it. It was late afternoon, and Princess Zelda stood leaning with her hands on the stone windowsill, closing her eyes and breathing in the welcomed air that met her face. The long silk robe that hung loosely over her shoulders and around her forearms blew in the breeze and mingled with her long blond hair that followed its pattern. Zelda tilted back her head and spread her hands farther apart, as if trying to become one with the wind.
Sometimes she wished that she could, so she could be taken away from here and back to Hyrule. Being the princess of Altea by marriage was much easier said than done, as was tolerating Marth. Not to say that she was entirely unhappy; that was not the case, for Marth treated her fairly and was nice enough, considering his bad temper, and she always got whatever she wanted, though she was used to that.
Or almost everything she wanted. There were certain things that she could possibly not have, and it would be ridiculous to even think about it. So she tried to concetrate on what she had and what she must do in the future, distant or near. Even after being married to Marth for five months now, she could still not say that she loved him. They clashed with each other more than not, for Zelda was an independet young woman and Marth was the fiery, hot-headed prince of a powerful nation. His youth sometimes made him come off as foolish, and Zelda knew that sometimes he was, but it was not as if she could complain. Marth may have had a bad temper, but lately Zelda found it easy to match him. Now as she looked out the window upon the beautiful kingdom that was half hers, her hand slipped to her growing stomach. She was just at the point to where the small bulge could be detected, and she thought it the strangest feeling in the world. A year ago she would have never thought that she would be in the position that she was now, the future queen of Hyrule as well as Altea, and married to the young prince of her rival country, hurtling headfirst into motherhood. She was only eighteen and did not consider herself quite ready to have a child, but there was obviously no going back on that now.
She wondered frequently how Link and his girl were holding out. She had received a letter, written by Link's own hand in Hylian, a few weeks after she had declared him free, and she was relieved to hear that it had worked. Marth knew that Zelda had received the letter, but he had no idea that she had folded it up and kept it in a gold locket around her neck. She knew him well enough, and figured that if he found out, he would probably break the locket and burn the letter. He was wiser than he seemed, and he had to know that Zelda's true love was for Link, but he did not bring it up. There was no reason for him to, for the one that still held his wife's affections was off hundreds of miles away, and therefore Marth considered it no threat. Zelda knew that it would raise all Hades if anything ever happened to change that- Marth was very used to getting his own way, and there was no exception now.
As she drank in the calming late-spring air, she heard the huge double-doors of the room open with a heavy click and swing inwards. She did not turn from the window, but she knew that it was only Marth, for two reasons. One, nobody just entered the personal dwelling of the princess without summons, and two, she could tell it was him by the uneven sound of his footsteps on the marble floor. The old wound in his knee, which had once been a shattered kneecap but had long since healed over, seemed to bother him just as much now as when it had before. It was a shame that such a young man, not even yet twenty, was maimed for life and so skilled in the ways of war that it would be near impossible to get him back on the battlefield one day. Zelda was sure that if Altea or Hyrule ever went to war again, Marth would put up a fight to be let back into the heat of it, to lead his father's soldiers as he had before. But that was putting the prince and heir to the throne at severe risk and the king would probably not allow it.
Zelda felt Marth's hands on her shoulders, and she relaxed involuntarily. True, she and Marth had not fallen in love, but she enjoyed his touch and had to admit that she felt safe with him. Her eyes closed and she asked gently, "How is your father?" It was known all over the land that the king had been seriously ill for weeks now and was practically bedridden with a terrible cough. Marth went to his father's chamber every day and stayed, sometimes for hours at a time, to keep the man company. Though Marth had a cold side to him that showed more than not, Zelda knew that he deeply cared for his father, and the silent worry that was unspoken of was taking a slight toll on the young prince. The illness of the king was not a contagious one, so it was that way that Marth could stay with his father. But the sickness seemed to be attacking the king's respiration, and it was not an unknown thing that he was certainly not a young man anymore. He and his queen had had Marth at an older age, and that was nearly twenty years ago. The king's hair and beard had lost all color a long time ago and had been completely white for awhile now, a clear sign of his lengthening age.
Marth's hands tightened at the sound of his young wife's question, and he sighed through his teeth. "Worse- he gets worse every day, Zelda," he replied sorrowfully. "All the physicians and even my nurse have done all they could, but it doesn't help. The most he can manage is a game of chess every now and then, and sometimes he can't even finish that." Zelda had seen Marth and his father at chess before, and she remembered the king's frustration when he was beaten by his son, which was quite often because Marth was a genius at strategy. But now the king did not have enough energy to be frustrated, and only expressed his pride at his son's display of battle intelligence.
"There's nothing to be done?" Zelda whispered.
Marth let go of her shoulders and joined her in the open window. "No. I've had everything done that they know how. He may just be too far gone now."
Zelda was horrified. "Don't talk that way, Marth. He could pull through this; he's a strong man."
"Not anymore," Marth said stubbornly. "I hate to say it. But it's the truth."
Deep down, she was sure that he was probably right. Marth would become king with his father's passing, but that did not even put a dent in his worry. Zelda knew that Marth was mature in his own ways and good at being in control, but sometimes she wondered if he was hiding that he was not ready for the king's crown. Of course he would just do what was required of him when the time came, but maybe with some uncertainty. She knew how he felt, for she had been unsure at the thought of being queen of Hyrule, but that was different because she would have ruled alone with no king by her side.
"Marth, I'm sorry." Zelda meant it. Sure, they had had plenty of personal battles between themselves in the past five months of their marriage, but they had developed a caring for one another. She could only imagine what she would be like if it were her father possibly on his deathbed. Marth and his father were not as close as Zelda and hers had been, but nevertheless, this was Marth's flesh and blood as well as his king.
Late that night after Marth had finally come to bed and fell asleep promptly, Zelda lay awake with a pain and movement in her stomach. She felt guilty that her mind was wandering off in places that it should not, and she tried to direct her thoughts back on the right track. She knew she had no right to think those things, not anymore. She was married now and soon to be a mother, and Link was way off in Carrickfergus with a pretty girlfriend. She had almost always considered Link her hero, even when he was miles away from her, and had found herself fantasying about him when he was gone, but she could not let herself do that now. It seemed a bit childish now, but nevertheless Zelda had to fight the thoughts away.
She had not heard anything from Link since that last letter, and sometimes she worried that he might not be well. But what foolish conclusions were those? This was Link! His courage made him seem nearly invincible, for he would face all the armies of the world head-on if something called for it- Zelda knew he would. It was as if he was always in trouble no matter where he was, but he was sly and cunning enough to somehow find a way out of it. It was another one of his qualities that Zelda had always admired. He had done some crazy yet brave things that she could never have fathomed doing herself, like throwing himself into a dozen-to-one battles, plunging over a forty foot high waterfall to rescue a drowning child, how many times he had dared to tame a fully wild horse with his bare hands... he had done all of these things and a lot more, but was a hundred percent humble when it came to receiving praise or thanks for them. He was tall and powerful, handsome, agile, courageous, and in Zelda's eyes, had a heart of gold.
Courage. In the darkness, Zelda touched the mark of the Triforce on the back of her left hand, a symbol of her wisdom. Link had one to match, one that had been rightly placed by whoever did those kind of things, for if there was only one word that would describe Link it would be 'courageous'. Zelda found her mind wandering again and fell asleep smiling at the memories.
-O-
There was no reason to be worrying for Link, for he was managing quite well on the plantation and enjoying his freedom. After his girl Jennan had brought back Princess Zelda's royal demand five months ago, Dorobis had been showing his severe disliking for Link by an onimous silence. It had almost seemed better when the man had vocalized his hatred, rather than say nothing at all. The day after Link's freedom had been declared, he had gone to Dorobis in the man's dwelling off behind the house and requested to stay on the plantation to work for money. It was no secret that Link was a hard worker and therefore a very valuable ranch-hand, and even Dorobis knew that things might fall apart without the Hylian young man, for as a slave he had been playing an important part in the cycle of things.
When Link had directly made clear his idea, Dorobis, who was sitting at his desk with a feathered ink pen in hand, stopped writing and looked up from his paper in awe. "Work as a job?" he had spit out. "You want me to pay you?" A mocking smile then spread on the man's bearded face. "You must be jesting."
Link had known that Dorobis had enough money and then some to pay him as a ranch-hand. True, Link would still be under the man's dominion somewhat, but it would be much different this time, as a boss and employee, rather than owner and slave. And Link was somehow okay with that. "You might need me around," he had replied after a moment, trying to keep his voice non-threatening to make sure it did sound as if he were demanding. It was a very tender situation, and the wrong move might make Dorobis snap any moment.
But, surprisingly, Dorobis was not hostile. He had smirked and went back to his writing. "Boy, don't think I don't know why you want to stay. Everyone this side of Carrickfergus knows why." Link had fought the color rising in his cheeks; somehow he still managed to get worked up from the act of getting teased. "So you don't have to pretend otherwise. You want to stay here because of my daughter."
Yes, Jennan was the reason. After being together daily for over a year now and falling in love with each other, Link could not imagine being apart from her. So he had said so. "Yes sir... I can't leave her now."
"No, you can't," Dorobis had said tartly, and his pen stopped on the paper, but his eyes snapped up to Link's face. "And I don't think I have to remind you why."
He did not. That reason was no secret either.
"So," Dorobis had continued on, his voice prideful to hide his defeat, "if you stay and do the same work as before, I will pay you. You're going to need the money."
Link would not let his confusion show. "Why, sir?"
Dorobis had leaned back in his chair with pen still in hand. "Link," he sighed, which was strange because the man hardly ever called the young man by name, "come now, I know you- you're not that naive." Dorobis had narrowed his eyes and switched the tone of his voice ominously. "I don't know about where you come from, but here you do not sleep with a girl and then not expect to marry her."
At least he did not mention Jennan's miscarriage. That was the result of the 'reason' Dorobis had been talking about. 'Just watch your step' the man had warned.
That was five months ago, and now Link was getting used to working for money, a thing that had happened a few times before but not very often. When Dorobis paid him at the end of every week, always reluctantly, Link took the money and stashed it away in a place that only he and Jennan knew about. If felt good to have his own money that he had rightly earned, with no threat of anyone taking it like there had been when he had had a job somewhere before. He knew he had to be saving the money so he would have enough to get them started when he and Jennan got married. To everyone's amazement, Dorobis had willingly gave his permission for the wedding, but he refused for it to happen until at least the coming winter, and it was just now late spring. At least that would give Link some time to save up his earnings, but though he was not happy with the idea of waiting six or seven months until their wedding, he did not dare say so to Dorobis. He and Jennan knew that they were lucky to have the permission that they did.
The main reason that Dorobis had agreed to pay Link money --besides needing Link around the plantation-- was the fact that the man knew the one-day wedding was inevitable, and he wanted his youngest daughter to be well-supported, even if it meant swallowing his hatred. There was no doubt he wanted his daughter to have a good life, for he knew if he did not accept the wedding that Link and Jennan would just go off on their own and get wed, so there was not much that he could do in this situation. For a man that was used to having his own way, it was a major step.
Link's life on the plantation remained almost the same as it had been, but now he was free in name as well as deed. He felt more respectable when he was looked upon as an equal, instead of a slave. He still slept in the stable loft and still cared for the horses as he had before, but now that he was making money for it (rather than escaping a beating), he took extra care to make sure that everything was done correctly. He usually worked from sunrise, or before, until sundown, even now in the summer. He was known for being a wrangler in his own land and an expert horseman, so the many horses of Dorobis' were always in the best conditions. Though Link was busy throughout the day, he still managed to give his mare Epona individual care and attention. Dorobis' other slave and Link's friend Artos helped manage the stables, so Link sometimes got to have time off.
It was not unusual for Dorobis to have slaves, but for fifteen years now he had only possessed Artos and the old kitchen slave Ima, and Link but since he was free that did not quite count anymore. Artos had been a slave to Dorobis since he was but five years old, and Ima was not only a cook who lived in the narrow house with the family but she also was somewhat of a nurse who had tended many hurts in her lifetime. Jennan's older sister Memnet seemed to be going the way of the nurse as well; she had learned a lot from Ima over the years and was almost as skilled as the old woman. The middle child, their brother Matayo, was seventeen and the most restless of the three, for he did not know what he wanted to do with his life and seemed to never be content. He was especially this way because he did not have a girl, and sometimes Link thought that Matayo was jealous of him, though they were fairly good friends and had been for awhile.
Their ritzy cousin Beth and her two slaves were at the plantation more than they were at their own home in another part of the land. Jennan and Beth had been rivals since early childhood, and then the now teenage girls had many quarrels and even once a fight in the creek in the woods. Thinking back on that small battle, Link usually had to suppress a laugh, because he had been the main cause of that fight. That was back before he and Jennan were an official couple, but maybe if the fight had not happened, things would have went differently, or they may have not gone at all. So maybe Beth and her snobbery were good for something at least.
Sometimes Link thought longingly of Zelda, for it was hard to forget an old love, but he was so busy that he did not have much time for thinking. Besides, he and Jennan were looking at their future together, and Zelda was married to the Altean prince. So though it felt terribly unnatural, the only thing that could be done was to forget the past that he and the princess had and start looking forward in life.
Link did not think that he could have done better than pick Jennan for his future bride. Yes, she was just sixteen and Link eighteen, but she had already passed the usual age to wed for a young woman, and he loved her. Back when he was first beginning to realize it, he could not believe if- he had thought that after Zelda, he would never fall in love again. But here he had, and it was no secret that Jennan had it bad for him since almost the very beginning of his arrival to the plantation. His 'arrival' had been completely against his will, but now he figured that fate worked in strange ways, even if it seemed like the worst thing in the world at one point, it might turn into something wonderful later, as it had for him.
Before Link had came, Jennan was often aloof and lonely when not with Memnet, for the location of the plantation made it to where there was no other houses for miles and Jennan was friendless. One of Dorobis' hired men, who was as close to being a shieldbearer without being one, Henry, who was young, handsome, and British, had expressed interest in Jennan and had even tried to court her, but since she was so unwilling the young man had stopped trying. And after Link's coming, she had fallen head-over-heels for him and refused to even consider anyone else.
Though he had always been quite uncomfortable with it, Link was used to girls 'making eyes' at him at least. But when he had first laid eyes on Jennan, he felt lightning in his veins and knew that there was a special connection between them. To Link, Jennan was the picture of sweet beauty, but anyone with eyes could see that she was almost other-wordly pretty. Her family had Spanish blood from somewhere up the line, and she had jet-black hair and eyes so dark brown that it could hardly be detected where the color ended and the pupil began. Her face was fair and heart-shaped, and her long, thick hair was almost always tied in a tight knot on the back of her head. She was short, only a few inches over five feet, but thin and shapely. It was no wonder that she was the object of other girls' jealousy.
Link was quite attractive himself. He was tall and well-built, for one could see the muscle of his body even through his tunic, and his hair was thick and blond. His face was manly but not very squared, his lips were thin and his eyes were of the deepest ocean blue. Being Hylian that he was, his pointed ears completed his unique look, for that was a thing rarely seen here in Carrickfergus.
Not only were Link's looks attractive, but he was very skilled in the ways of weapons, especially with the sword, bow and arrow, and even the boomerang. Archers were common in the land, but not a left-hander who was so skilled that he could shoot an arrow, and get a bullseye of course, and then shoot another and split the first arrow down the middle at will, from many paces away from the target. Link had done this more than once, and often when with his friends, Jennan would throw an apple or whatnot high into the air, and Link would take aim with one eye closed and the fruit would always come down in two pieces. All these qualities about him that almost everyone loved, but Link never once got conceited or forgot himself. He did not think of his good points, but instead at times secretly dwelled on his mistakes.
One warm afternoon in late spring, while Link was in the stable and laying down fresh straw, Dorobis came inside alongside a blonde woman on a tall horse. Link stopped in mid-move and looked over his shoulder in surprise, for Dorobis seldom entered the stable. He knew that he had seen the woman five months ago at the masquerade, but he had not thought that she would come back. He leaned on the blunt end of the pitchfork and watched as Dorobis delicately helped the woman down from the saddle to the dusty floor below.
Dorobis handed the reins over to Link, who took them silently and tossed the pitchfork to the side, his eyes still on the lady. She looked down her nose at him with her chin tilted up, as if she were far too good to look directly at him. Dorobis cleared his throat irritably and laid a hand gently on the woman's shoulder. "This my... hired hand, Link," he said firmly as he motioned to the young man. "He is in charge of the stable, and quite experienced with horses, my lady."
"I see," the woman said flatly. She looked Link over once, her eyebrows pinched between her eyes, and then extended her hand to him palm-down. He looked at it blankly, then reached out with his free hand and shook hers. The elegant woman looked shocked, and her mouth fell open slightly as her hand went limp in surprise. Link let go quickly and pulled back as if she had slapped him; he did not know what he had done that was so amazing and shocking.
Dorobis sighed heavily and tried to reassure the woman, "He comes from Hyrule and I guess does not know exactly the proper manners for a lady here." He glared at Link when he said this, and Link turned away to tend to the woman's horse. He had not known that it was such a bad thing to shake a woman's hand- now he knew that he had been expected to kiss her knuckles, but he doubted he would have done it anyway. As the two of them left the stable murmuring to one another, Link got to work on the tall horse. After removing the tack and giving the steed a good rub-down, a slight sound in the stable doorway caught his attention. He did not turn to face it at first, but instead continued with his work for a few moments before finally glancing back to see what was there.
Then he wished that he had not looked in the first place. If there was any female that he wanted to avoid with everything he had, it was Beth. She seemed to never cease harrassing him, despite knowing that he was going to be betrothed to her cousin soon. Beth had flirted and thrown herself at him since they had first met, and he always brushed her off the same as before without getting rough with her. It was not his nature to get hostile with women, even in situations like this, so he resorted to keeping his distance from her.
Now Jennan was normally a peaceful young woman, but when it came to someone hitting on her man (especially Beth), it was a different story. Link was certainly not the type to fool around with other girls, and he had become accustomed to giving the cold shoulder nonchalantly. But Beth was quite persistent when Jennan was not around, and Link was finding it harder to keep away from her. Beth was such a flirt that she was not even above quite literally swooning at times when Link passed by.
She was smiling now, and was doing her best to attractive. She was actually a very pretty young woman, but Link refused to notice. "Hello, Link," she said, and ran her hands down the front of her red velvet skirt. Link mumbled an acknowledgment, but of course it did not deter her. She entered the stable and sauntered over to him, walking slowly and purposefully, as if trying to be seductive. She easily could be, if he let himself see it. Even Dorobis' companion men were tantalized by Beth, and someone once told her that she would make a good saloon girl. But they never did anything but look at her, for no one was brave enough to mess with Dorobis' niece. She was a girl who always wore the best, most expensive dresses, and they seemed to be awfully low-cut and revealing. And it also seemed that when she was around Link, the cut of the dress was lower and the sleeves always falling off her shoulders more than before.
Link ran his hands down the back of the horse and noticed that Beth was quite close now. She suddenly reached up and touched his clean-shaven face with her long, lusting fingers. Link turned his head only long enough to look at her blankly, then stepped away and told her that he had work to do. She accepted this with a smiling nod and went and sat herself daintily on the bottom rung of the ladder that reached up into the loft. Her chin rested in her hands, and it seemed to be completely out of Link's power when he could not help but notice how much of her full bosom was actually showing when she was in that position. He flinched and looked away quickly while reaching for the pitchfork, and Beth grinned silently to herself, as if she had accomplished something.
When the horse was stalled and settled in, Link was glad to be able to escape, but before he was even to the door Beth rose and seized his forearm. "Does my uncle have you working that hard?" she asked doubtfully. "Stay here and talk to me."
He did not want to talk to her, and he especially did not like her touching him. "Yeah," he replied stiffly. "Actually, he does."
She pulled him back farther into the stable. "Well, you can take a break, I'm sure." She motioned to a thick pile of hay by the last stall. "Why don't we sit down?"
"I don't wa-" But his protest was cut off, for she planted her hands at his shoulders and suddenly he was down anyway. That girl was stronger than she looked, especially when he was not expecting it. She lowered herself into the hay beside him, her arm hooked around his, and he felt almost buried and suffocating in her thick skirts and close presence.
"You know, one day you're going to over-work yourself," she said matter-of-factly. What did she care? If he wanted to over-work himself, that was his business. He made an attempt to get up, but felt the heel of her shiny black shoe dig into his shin purposefully- he felt it even through the leather of his knee-high boot. "You need to learn to relax," she continued, as if she was unaware that she had just assaulted him. She pressed herself harder against him and clung to the tightness of his bicep, and looked up at him with her luxurious green eyes- she looked a lot like her little brother Peter. There were two halves of Link that warred within him- the one natural half that was telling him to take advantage of this situation, the other half telling him to get out now. The latter overpowered the other, and though Beth tried to stop him again, he stood up and shook her loose.
"Beth," he said, choosing his tone carefully, "that's gotta stop." He wanted to say, I'm not here to entertain you, but that would sound overly rude, even if she did deserve it. She stood up suddenly, and her hands clasped him around the back of the neck, and Link was sure that he had never seen such a crazy, lovesick girl. She closed her paint-rimmed eyes and leaned her face up to his. Link swallowed hard and felt his adam's apple have a spasm at the sight of her full lips, but he was not about to give in to her now. He gripped her arms firmly and pushed her back a step, though she was unwilling to go. Surely she would be getting angry by now, but for some reason she just laughed at him.
"Link," she teased, "you're too sexy to be so stand-offish. I'm not poisonous."
Yes, she was. Everywhere she went she poisoned men with her seducing. Without another word, Link turned and left the stable, leaving her standing alone and finally quiet.
-O-
Jennan had been elated when she had heard that her father agreed to the marriage in the winter. Of course, it would not be official until Link actually proposed to her personally, and she did not want to rush him. She knew that he would figure out a way to do it that, though it would not be a surprise, it would still be just as an important moment as if it would be one. She was excited nonetheless, and had Ima already working on her wedding gown, for she wanted it to be perfect when it was finished.
When she was younger and had imagined what her wedding to be like, she had never pictured what she was thinking now. She considered herself incredibly lucky to have snared Link and kept him in her clutches. She thought that she was a kind of boring person, but if Link did not think that, that was all that mattered to her. He was hard to hang onto, not by his own will of course, but because all females seemed to cling to him, or even the very idea of him. Jennan was glad that not many other girls lived near the plantation, but if there was anyone she had to worry about, it would be Beth.
She and her cousin had never gotten along, but their feuds over Link only intensified things. The situation tired Jennan out a lot, but she refused to be beaten down and defeated. It was not unusual to see her trampy cousin with a different man every day- sometimes Jennan just wanted to strangle her. She knew she herself was not anywhere near perfect, but Beth seemed as if she did not know when to stop.
On an entirely separate note, Jennan had noticed something about her brother Matayo lately. She could not quite put her finger on it, but she knew that there was something unusually different about him. Even though they both lived in the same small house, they were not in close quarters with one another very often, but Jennan knew her brother well enough to tell that something was bothering him. About the time that Link was fighting off Beth in the stable, Jennan cornered Matayo in the kitchen of the house and asked if she could talk with him.
"Jennan, I'm busy," he replied irritably, and tried to go past her, but she planted herself to the floor and held up a hand at his chest to stop him.
"Maybe it's not my business," she said slowly, "but there's something wrong, isn't there?"
"I'm okay."
Jennan frowned. "No, you're not okay... are you?"
"Look," he snapped, "I didn't harass you when you were having problems, so just leave me alone."
Jennan stepped back against the table as he shoved by her and left the house with the door slamming behind him, and she had a strong feeling that this was certainly not the end of the situation.
-O-
Prince Marth was on one knee on the marble floor of the king's dwelling, his forehead resting on the bed and his hands clasping one of his father's. He made sure to keep completely still and silent, for he was listening intently to the sound of the king's rasping breaths, ready to spring into action if he had to. The king had never been in such ill health, and this night the coughing and blood seemed to never cease. Marth was infuriated that no one, not even the chief physician, could think of something to do. Maybe there really was nothing, but the prince had to blame someone.
The only one that did not seem distressed over it was the king himself. It was as if he had accepted his condition long ago, perhaps even before it had begun. When his son expressed deep concern or even anger, the man just brushed it off and said that things such as this could not be stopped, and it might as well be lived with. Marth wondered if his father even knew that the illness would eventually bring death- there was no getting around that. It had happened many times with people who had developed the bloody cough, and of course it would be no exception even with royalty. Now as Marth gripped his father's hand, the man awoke, and after taking a few moments to cough, reached over and patted his son's knuckles.
"You need to get out of this sickroom and get back to your beautiful wife," the man said hoarsely, a small smile on his lips. "There's no reason for you to be in here, you're young and perfectly well."
Marth raised his head and met his father's eyes. "Father, you took care of me every time I've been sick, and now it's my turn to take care of you."
"Your job is to take care of your wife and your country."
Marth frowned sorrowfully at his father's words. "It won't be my country until I'm king, and that won't be for awhile."
The king managed a raspy laugh. "Actually very soon, my son. Marth, I am dying; there's no secret in that. Just look at it, you will be king soon. Isn't that what you have wanted?"
Marth felt his throat close up, and he closed his eyes tightly. "Not like this," he replied, and his voice cracked harshly. "If it meant your life, I would rather not be king at all."
"Dying is nothing but a part of living. If you did not die, you would be... divinity." The king laughed, but Marth did not join in. "And anyway, my boy, the line of our royal family cannot just cease here. I must die, the same as everyone else."
"Do you think that makes it any easier?" Marth snapped.
"Of course not. I was the same way when your mother died, but after awhile you learn to accept it. Besides, you are going to be a father yourself in a few months... it's a shame that I will not be able to see my grandchild." For the first time the man looked depressed.
"You will. The gods will not let you go before."
The king scoffed. "The gods are powerless, Marth. It's something I've learned through my reign; there is no other power higher than the king. Perhaps there is one single God out there somewhere, but our gods have no power over death." The king held a cloth to his mouth and coughed quite violently. "And let you not forget it, my son. Soon you will hold complete power of this country. And if you ever have to lead your army into battle, I'm sure you know what to do. You are already more advanced in the ways of war than I myself am."
Marth's eyes rested on the blood spots in the white cloth, and somehow knew that it was a very ominous sign, though it was certainly not the first time it had happened. "There has to be something that can be done," he said stiffly. "For a king, they should be able to do anything."
"Well, they cannot, for I am certainly not young anymore. And anyway, right now I must rest. Go to your wife, my son."
Marth squeezed his father's hand tightly and reluctantly stood up, stiff from kneeling in the same position for so long. He felt his long cloak fall into place behind him as he looked down at his the king's closing eyes. Something was telling him not to leave, but no one could refuse to obey an order from the king, not even the prince. Marth reached down and touched his father's arm, then turned and left the dwelling.
Much later into the night, Marth and Zelda had gone to bed but Marth lay awake listening to his wife's deep and steady breathing for hours before at last falling asleep himself. He dreamed that he was in an intense, bloody swordfight in the dumping snow; in the dream he could not tell who it was that he was in battle with, but whoever it was always attacked with the left hand and they had a strong arm and solid hit. Marth's Falchion sword was knocked from his hand and then he himself was thrown to the ground, and the deadly blade of a blue-hilted sword was at his throat.
He woke up gasping for breath, but quickly regained his composure when he felt the warm breeze coming through the castle window. Suddenly he heard a frantic beating on the dwelling door and a young woman's voice telling him to come quickly, and Zelda awoke, confused, at about the time he sprang out of bed and was quickly pulling on his clothes.
"Marth, what is it?" Zelda asked, a sharp note of worry in her voice.
"I don't know yet," he replied quickly, and pulled on his cloak as he swung open the double-doors. He made his way down the hall in long strides, Zelda not far behind, with the servant girl leading the way to the king's sickroom. Marth had a very terrible feeling, one of those times that somehow the situation is known before it is proven. The three of them entered the dwelling and passed the nurse, who moved out of their way with a stiff bow. Marth laid eyes on his father, and though it looked as if the man were only sleeping, the prince somehow knew that it was not the truth. He felt a stab of pain rush through him as he turned past Zelda and leveled his sharp gaze on the nurse, who lowered her head and mouthed silently, He's gone.
Without quite being aware that he was doing it, Marth fell to his knees beside the bed, his forehead on his father's cold wrist. He did not notice that he was holding his breath until he felt Zelda's hand slide onto his shoulders and grip lightly. He let out a shuddering breath which quickly turned into a sob, and he felt his hands curling into tight fists on the bed. He could feel Zelda's sympathy through her hands, but what he felt that was stronger was the sorrow and rage that was burning within him. His shoulders heaved with sobs, but not one tear fell. Even the fact that he was very soonly going to be crowned king, possibly even the next day, did not deter him from the strong feeling of loss. He and his father had had many feuds in the past, but that did not dull his pain.
As if she could feel Marth's anger, Zelda suddenly pulled her hands away, and he stood up slowly. His fists were shaking, but when he turned to the nurse, his voice sounded somehow calm and clear. "The death of a king does not go unpunished." He took in a shaking breath and raised one eyebrow at the fearful woman, who had pressed herself against the nearest wall. Zelda was horrified at her husband's words, for surely this was only fate, and no one could be blamed. But Marth's anger was often out of control, and there was no telling who might face his wrath- it was no secret that there might very well be another death in the morning.
-O-
Are you all glad that I finally got this sequel up? If anybody's reading this that did not read the first story, you might want to go back and read that one so you won't be too confused. I was really glad that I got all the reviews I did on Bond or Free, and it'd be great if I got a lot of good ones this time. But if you want to flame, feel free. It's not like I'm gonna get burned, lol
