Assassins, born and bred.
Disclaimer: I own Grandir and the Kulveran Race. That's it. Everything else is Shigeru Miyamotos', may his name be blessed in the fresh light of day, and Nintendos'. So Blurrrrrrrr!
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I'm not human.
I may look like one but I'm not.
Din, she sent me here. To right the balance, to tip the scales.
To assassinate Prince Grandir.
I am a Kulveran. Assassins, born and bred.
Suppose you're wondering why the Prince of Calatia needs a crossbow bolt through the heart.
One of the downsides to being royalty is political marriage.
You know, "You are going to marry this Prince! We need to strengthen the Calatia-Hyrule alliance!"
I'll give you the bare facts.
Zelda is to marry Grandir. Zelda hates Grandir.
Link hates Grandir. Links' destiny is to marry Zelda.
No arguing with destiny, I think.
I always wonder why I agree to this.
I mean here I am in the rafters of the Temple of Time, with a Kulveran Crossbow, just waiting for that moment when the corpse-to-be just happens the walk down the- oh crap.
Here he comes now.
"If there are any here today who do not wish this couple to be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."
Grandir smiled. He knew that nobody would dare interrupt this.
A searing pain ran through him and he looked down at his chest.
"Shit." A three inch crossbow bolt was sticking out of his heart.
He looked at the rafters and saw a shadow of a man leap onto the roof.
He darted a look at himself as everything turned black…
Yeah I know it's not original, but it's my first fic, give me a break.
Drop me a line at williambloody@hotmail.com