Author's Note: Legend of Zelda is property of Nintendo and all other affiliated companies that had a hand in its creation. I only claim originality for the work of fiction itself, and not the game that it is inspired by. Also, this is a partial novelization, so expect there to be a few minor changes in detail for the sake of the story. That being said, please enjoy!
Chapter 1
The Storm
Lightning blazed across the sky, illuminating the vast plains of Hyrule in the night. Rain poured down heavily, blanketing the earth, and producing thick, oozing puddles of mud. Soldiers rushed past her, attempting to ward off invaders, taking no notice of her as she entered the stables with a small bundle in her arms. Queen Miranda hastened to the back of the stables, where her charger, Nightingale, and her protector, Fala stood waiting with the reigns in her hands. Beside Fala was her eighteen year old daughter, Impa.
Impa took the bundle from Miranda's arms, and Fala hastily led the queen to her steed. The white mare nuzzled her affectionately, as the Queen stroked her side gently. The horse nickered and snorted.
"Hush," the Queen whispered soothingly, as Fala placed the leather saddle on the horse's back.
"Quickly," the Sheikah woman hissed desperately.
"Yes, Fala," Miranda knew the Sheikah's haste was justified; if she were kidnapped by the enemy invaders, she and her baby would certainly be put to death. Alexander, her husband, and her king, had proven wise to prepare for this day; he had never trusted the neighboring Gerudos to keep their word, and as such he had prepared this escape as part of a contingency plan, should the castle ever be invaded.
Miranda pulled herself up into the saddle, as Impa approached and handed her the bundle. Her son whimpered softly as his mother took him once again.
"Don't forget, Your Majesty, that His Majesty, the King, will rendezvous with you at Kakariko Village. You will be safe there," Fala reminded. She handed the Queen a traveling cloak.
"I know, Fala; I did not forget," Miranda said, as she attempted to drape the cloak across her shoulders single-handedly. She looked at her oldest friend and protector with concern, and love.
"Be safe," she whispered.
"We will be," Fala promised.
"Now go!" She cried, "Go quickly!" With that, she slapped the white mare's hindquarters sharply; with a snort and a whinny, Nightingale charged out of the stables, and into the cold, wet, fear-stricken night.
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Rain fell into her eyes, making it difficult to see; it cascaded down like sheets of ice, numbing her hands, and chilling her to the bone. Her infant son wailed in her arms at the discomfort. She held him tighter in the crook of her arm, as Nightingale jostled them about; she was not going to lose him to the Gerudos! She was not going to lose any of her family to them! Not her husband, not her daughter, not her son; not even her friends! To get to any of them, they would have to cross her dead body first, and she would even be taking a few of them with her to the grave!
She kicked Nightingale sharply in the ribs, urging her onward with more haste, as the sound of more horses registered behind her.
Four, five, possibly six, she estimated as she attempted to count the individual snorts and hoof falls that reached her. Lightning flashed, and thunder roared overhead. Strands of her golden hair clung to her face as the rain continued to pour down even harder. There was a whistling overhead, and she turned Nightingale at just the right moment to avoid the bolt meant for her.
Now they were shooting arrows at her? In the night, with the darkness, and the rain, they had the advantage; darkness because it hid the shadows of the arrows from view, and rain because it masked most of the noise that accompanied the arrows' passage through the air. Turning Nightingale had been a stroke of luck, one that was not likely to repeat itself. A white horse hide on a dark night, what had she been thinking?
Soft thunder rumbled off to her left.
More horses, she realized, and quickly turned Nightingale to the right. The goal of these new riders had been to cut her off from Kakariko, and her husband, and they had succeeded. The enemy had read their plan like an open book, and had moved to counter it.
I'm sorry, Alexander, but it looks like I won't make the rendezvous after all, she thought, as she fled across the plains, and into the night.
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From his vantage point in the clock tower of Kakariko, King Alexander watched the whole scene unfold, all the while cradling his newborn daughter in his arms. He watched as Miranda was chased from the castle by a pack of Gerudo wenches. They were steadily closing the gap between themselves and their prey.
Come on, Miranda, come on, he pleaded desperately. As if she could sense her father's growing anxiety, Zelda wailed in his arms. He bounced her gently in his arms as he continued to watch his wife's progress from the tower. Nightingale was nearly there, nearly at the gate; another two hundred yards, and Miranda would be safely behind Kakariko's walls, and then he'd give the order and mow those scoundrels down with a volley of arrows. Everything was going according to plan…
Until he saw the reinforcements charging at her from the northeast! Relief turned to panic as he watched his wife veer away from the village to avoid her new quarry.
"Miranda!" He cried as he watched in agony. He handed the princess to one of his guards and began to descend from the clock tower, to his steed, Gilgamesh. They would not take his wife and son, not without a fight! He'd kill anyone who touched them, who dared to threaten them!
"Sire!" One of the guards shouted, taking hold of the king's arm. Alexander shrugged him off roughly; didn't he see that the queen was in danger, and in need of aid? Didn't he know how much the King loved her, in spite of her commoner origin? He was not going to lose her to a few thieving women and their vile bloodlust!
Other soldiers were now grabbing him, attempting to hold him back; he fought like a wild animal, until one of the soldiers cried, "My apologies, sire!" and struck him on the jaw. Alexander fell backwards, wiping away the blood from the corner of his mouth. He glared up at the man, Nathan was his name, if the king remembered correctly.
"Sire," Nathan panted. "I'm sorry, but it's too late! The queen is gone! She vanished into the night with her Gerudo pursuers!"
"Then mount a rescue!" The king ordered, "We need to find them!"
"We can't find them in this storm, Your Majesty! We must wait until it clears up before we have any chance of finding them!"
Alexander stood up, and moved towards his horse once more. This was taking too long; by the time the rain cleared, Miranda could very well be dead! He was not about to take that chance!
Nathan put his hands on the king's shoulders.
"Sire," he said quietly, "we can't afford to lose you too." The poor man was begging.
Alexander felt the tears in his eyes, as he looked towards the gate.
Miranda, he thought.
"Get a search party ready," he ordered, "We're leaving as soon as the rain lets up!"
Be safe, he pleaded silently.
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Miranda continued relentlessly, even as the arrows continued to rain down overhead. Lucas, her son, was crying again, and she had no way to comfort him.
"Hush, now," she cooed, "Mommy's here!"
Lightning flashed overhead. Thunder rumbled.
"Don't worry," she whispered, as her son's cries continued, "Mommy's right here!"
There was a buzzing sound, and an arrow fell from the heaven's, striking Nightingale in her haunches. The horse whinnied in pain, and threatened to throw her rider off, if Miranda had not held tightly to her sides.
"Go," she begged, as he beast began to slow down, "go! Hurry Nightingale! Hurry!"
The forest lay dead ahead; if she could just reach it, she would be safe! There was another shower of arrows; she turned Nightingale this way and that, desperately trying to avoid the deadly onslaught. But her horse was no longer fast enough; one of the arrows found its mark in Miranda's shoulder. She cried out when she first felt the fire, but she continued to press towards the forest, with even more desperation. She cradled Lucas tightly.
They will not have you, she thought.
She made it safely into the trees; her pursuers pulled sharply on their reigns, forcing their steeds to stop. Miranda smiled wryly, this place was the Lost Woods, a place of fear, and superstition; only the brave, or the very foolish entered here. She was safe; they would follow her no further. In their eyes, she was as good as dead.
About fifty yards into the wood, Nightingale collapsed suddenly, throwing Miranda off her back, and sending the young queen to the forest floor. She spun about, twisting herself in space so that Lucas would be safe from the fall, and forcing herself to land on her back. She felt the arrow in her shoulder bite deeper, and she groaned at the pain. When it had passed, she looked at her mare: lodged just between her horse's ribs was a second arrow, one which had pierced Nightingale's heart. Miranda felt tears well in her eyes at her horse's fate.
She patted the mare on the neck as she lay dying. Nightingale snorted loudly.
"Thank you," she whispered softly, "because of you, Lucas and I were able to get away. Thank you. Good girl…good girl."
She continued patting the horse's neck.
"Go to sleep," she said softly. Nightingale snorted again, softer than before.
"Go to sleep," Miranda whispered again, still rubbing Nightingale gently. The horse became still underneath her fingers.
"Good girl," she said, giving her mare a final pat. Her son's cries reminded her that she could not linger here, not even to mourn. She had to get them somewhere safe; she was his only protection now. This was the hour when her baby needed her the most. She stood, and cradled him in her arms, and pressed deeper into the forest.
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The trees almost seemed to be shepherding her, guiding her. It was almost as if the forest were alive on a way that she could not comprehend. She felt as though she were being watched from every direction. She'd heard tales when she was younger, of fairies, and children, and magic, but she'd never believed them, until now.
She felt dizzy, as if her world were unbalanced. She collapsed to her knees, spent from all that had occurred in such a relatively short time. She noticed that she was kneeling before a massive tree, and it reminded her of tales of giant trees that lay in the heart of the forest; had she really reached such a place? Was she really in the heart of the forest? She also remembered other stories of how such giant trees held the spirits of ancient gods within. She looked down at her son's tiny form, asleep in her arms at last.
Lucas, she thought, as she smiled sadly. She wasn't going to survive this, and she knew it. But she could at least try, and ensure her son survived. She pushed Lucas's tiny frame towards the roots of the tree, and prayed silently.
Spirit of the forest, if you can hear me, then please honor a mother's request. I am dying; I will not last much longer. I do not plead for my life, but for the life of my son; please keep him safe. Please protect him from those who seek him harm; please look after him when I am gone.
She looked once more at the little body before her, her baby boy, and she smiled one last time. She toppled to the ground as the last of her strength failed her.
"Remember, Lucas," she whispered, "Mommy loves you."
Her blue eyes became dull, as the last of her life slipped away from her.
