notes one: I think I actually know what I'm doing. Then again, it is 2 am, so maybe not.
notes two: I have wanted to write a post-OoT chapter fic for a long, long time. I'm finally doing it. There will be romance, there will be politics, there will be adventure, and there will be angst. There will also be mentions of other games in the series, and those mentions won't be spoiler free. I seriously doubt there will be fluff, but it's not going to be a tragic Shakespeare ending either. Probably. Haha.
notes three: I'll try to keep updates relatively regular, like once a week at minimum. If you favorite the story, it'd be great if you leave a review too! Come say hi, I don't bite!
disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda belongs to Nintendo, not me.
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Her fingers were tight around the bow, familiar yew that had molded to the outline of her hand digging splinters into her palm. Zelda breathed in deep: the acrid air smelled of smoke, fire, and blood. Cinders floated down from the sky to rest in her hair and her clothes. Her horse shifted nervously underneath her, snorting and tossing his head.
Death Mountain was a burning silhouette against the dark night sky, a plume of smoke billowing up to shroud the stars. Lava ran in molten red-orange rivers down the volcano's sides, and Zelda could only pray to the goddesses that her plan would work, that it would keep the people safe, that it would keep Hyrule safe—
Her head snapped around when she heard the horn call. An army was spread out behind her— men and women, Hylians, Gorons, Zora, and Gerudo—prepared to fight and die for their home. And next to her, riding a chestnut mare, was a boy. His tunic was, as always, green; he gripped the violet hilt of a sword in his left hand. There were shadows under his eyes and worry lines at the corners of his lips and scars all over his skin; all features that did not belong on one so young.
Before them, another army sprawled across Hyrule Field.
It was wrong, what Zelda did next. So simple, yet so very, very wrong.
She raised her bow in the air, and shouted for the charge. Her army thundered across the field, and then there was blood in the air, blood on her hands, blood thick between her teeth—
Zelda shot up, tangled in her blankets and stomach lurching. She pushed the covers off and let her legs dangle over the side of the bed, breathing long and slow to quiet her pounding heart.
She was always a quiet sleeper even immersed in nightmares, never crying out or thrashing around. Still the door opened and a shadow stepped in, blade drawn. "Zelda?" came the whisper. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Impa," she answered. "I just had a dream."
Her Sheikah guardian sheathed her blade and took a seat on the edge of the bed, though they could hardly see one another in a room lit only by moonlight. "A dream, or a nightmare?"
Zelda knew before the question left Impa's mouth. Perhaps it was the clarity of the vision that told her, or some knowledge gifted by the Triforce—but it didn't matter. Zelda knew. "Neither," she said. "A prophecy."
She stood, ignoring the chill of the flagstones beneath her bare feet, and walked out onto her balcony. Her hands went to the single long braid she slept in, fingers deftly unraveling the ties until her hair tumbled around her shoulders. She leaned her forearms on the railing and looked up at the sky—the stars gleamed on black canvas. The moon was a slim crescent far above.
Link, Zelda thought, the breath leaving her lungs. Link.
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