Disclaimer: I don't own Legend of Zelda, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Nintendo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.
The Approach
A/N: Twilight Princess; pre-Ganondorf battle; mild allusions to Skyward Sword; first LoZ fic.
The key was clenched tightly in one hand, shoved halfway into the lock, while the other was pressed against the door. Once it turned, that would be it. The chains would drop at his feet, allowing passage, and the world would be thrust into his grasp.
He hadn't questioned too much over the past few months. Hadn't even really wondered why the Goddesses had chosen him for this task. Why, before all the trouble of trekking up mountains, and dancing with blood on his blade, he'd been little more than a herder, just another farm boy of Ordon. Funny how all that had changed in so little time.
Sometimes, he'd wanted to turn back, to cast aside this turbulent lifestyle and take the children in Kakariko straight home. But it had sang to him, the unseen spirit of the Master Sword, hovering over his shoulder. Said that, were he, the beacon of light, to turn his back on the world, it would end up shrouded. With or without the Lord of Twilight.
So he'd pressed on, trudging through wind and rain, sand and sun, blood and spring water. Not because he had to, but because he needed to.
The chains and lock dropped before him, devoid of any strength that they had held. He kicked them aside, forcing the door open with a shoulder so he could slip on through. Up a flight of stone steps, and he found himself staring up at the sky. Dark, violent, greedy for dominion and death.
As he headed to the top with a deep breath, he couldn't quite place it, but there was something within him, hidden in some unknown cavern of his soul, that spoke.
"You've done it before."
Perhaps it was just his subconscious, pressing him forward. Perhaps it was the voice of the Goddesses.
But, when Link reached the throne, the heavenly trio circling in stone above, his hand fell upon the sacred blade, a storm brewing in his veins.
"Now," the voice spoke again, a dull ring that seemed to come from the polished steel, "don't let go."
