New Beginnings

Me: All righty then, this is my first fic, so please go easy on me. As you may have figured out, my name is WaveBladeFusion901. This is actually a rewrite of my old fic, which I liked but decided to trash because it was the crappiest thing I'd seen in a long time. I'd started this and got bored, then realized that I was doing sequels and spin-offs of this without explaining anything. So, well, I had to come back. This is my first story, so please go easy in me! Disclaim.

Zelda: Wave owns this story. It's AU. That's it.

Hyrule was peaceful. The beloved Princess Zelda, sometimes called the Princess of Destiny, had recently turned eleven, prompting a lavish celebration. Kakariko slowly attracted business, and everything seemed just as it should be in their bustling economy. The winds blew gently in Hyrule, bringing happiness and prosperity to all.

Things were not perfect everywhere, however. Castle Town looked fine to the untrained eye, but if someone looked down the back alleys, into the worst parts of the city, things were not so pretty. Thieves traversed in and out of homes and shops. People vanished mysteriously, never to be seen again. Murderers slit throats over a game of dice. Crime was common; perhaps eight in ten people in Lower Castle Town were criminals or involved in a crime.

Many successful businessmen owned workshops in the Lower City, also called Wind District. They were cheap, decently kept, and convenient. However the higher class may have disliked the commoners, Wind District workshops were undeniably the best. This was the case with Grammal Monai, the richest businessman in all of Hyrule. A blacksmith by trade, Grammal was pleasant in company. With his large stature and long, untamed black hair, he seemed menacing to those who didn't know him. Once they did get to know him, they found him to be quite a good person.

That was a mask. In truth, no one knew much about him. No one knew that his apparently well cared-for assistants were abused and overworked. And no one ever found out, not even when one ended up dead and the other vanished off the face of the earth.

--&--

"Get out!" the man snarled, throwing a metal pitcher at his victim. The girl stood up from the floor of the rough forge, bruised and battered. She wiped a trickle of blood from the side of her mouth and bowed to him respectfully before departing.

The cold rain over Castle Town stung and numbed her face, washing away rivulets of blood and sweat. She was used to the cold and the wet: her room in the basement leaked.

Her name was Maria, she had lived with Grammal and his wife her entire life. Her mother, Grammal had said, had died after giving birth nearly eleven years ago. Maria was extremely thin for her age, with shoulder-length reddish-brown hair, pale skin, and bright amber eyes. This told her, and everyone else she knew, that she was of Gerudian descent.

Maria sighed as she entered the vast house. It, like the houses of many famous Hylian craftsmen, was in a better part of town than the workshop. The front door led off to the main room, where Grammal's wife, Elarissi, sat in a chair before a crackling fire, reading a novel. The room was spacious. Polished wood panels shone in the light of the fire. The soft, thick carpet eased her aching bare feet. Antique furniture crammed into the room proclaimed the family's wealth. Above the white stone fireplace was a shield Grammal had made many years ago, with his symbol (the outline of a dragon rearing up on its two hind legs, wings unfurled and a sword in its jaws) recreated in gold on the front. Under the shield were two straight swords in sheaths.

She tried to sneak off quietly, to go to her room and tend to her bleeding wounds in peace, but Elarissi noticed her. "Maria." The Gerudian girl flinched as Elarissi lay her book in her pink silk-clad lap, sapphire blue eyes completely frank, without emotion. "We have decided that it's time. We want you to leave."

She stared at the woman. "What?"

Elarissi glared at Maria. "Grammal and I don't want you here anymore, you're too much to handle."

Maria was stunned. Grammal was the richest businessman in Hyrule, for Goddesses' sake! He was invited to Hyrule Court every time the Royal Family had a ball because of his vast income. He was influential. Nobles from different countries paid him money for metalwork, and paid him well.

The woman was still talking. "I'm sorry, Maria," Elarissi sighed sadly. "Ever since Ronan died . . ."

The girl flinched. Ronan had been her best friend, her only friend, Grammal's other assistant. He was luckier than her in two ways: he knew where his parents' graves were, Kakariko Village. And, he had the fortune of death, where Grammal couldn't hurt him anymore.

Elarissi had only one word left for her.

"Go."

Maria numbly walked out the door, back out into the cold, stinging rain, without any money or friends in the world. Oblivious to anything but her pain, she walked into the courtyard, down the muddy streets, and out over the drawbridge. Cold rain stung her face, but she no longer cared.

Outside the castle walls, the storm raged. Vicious winds flattened the high grasses. Lightning strikes caused fires quickly extinguished by the pouring rain. Through nature's fury, Maria stood, staring down at the water under the bridge. He had thrown her out of her only home, after ten years of dedicated, if bitter, service. She was alone. What would happen when the cold came? How was she supposed to survive this rainstorm, let alone the blizzards that blanketed Castle Town and made the Field an impossible wilderness?

A snarl brought her attention to her surroundings. Her hand flew to her sword as she spun. A Wolfos, a massive specimen for its kind, stood behind her, with claws like small daggers and blood-encrusted teeth. It howled and slashed, but she blocked it by holding her sword up in front of her, then backing up. How did this thing sneak up on me?! she thought wildly, barely avoiding a second blow.

She didn't notice the stone buried in the rain soaked grass until it was too late. She fell backward, banging her head against the ground. She groaned in pain and slashed blindly. She missed completely. The Wolfos reared up, howled its triumph, and buried its claws in her shoulder. She screamed in pain. Hoarse from the strength of her cry, she swiped outward again. But it made no difference. The Wolfos, excited by the smell of her blood, had started to lick it with its rough tongue, then turned to her with a merciless gaze. This was it. Her entire life had come down to murder by savage Wolfos.

Maria could see Ronan's face clearly before her, and waited with closed eyes for the victory howl, the next blow and for sweet, wonderful death. She wanted it more than anything, for there was nothing left for her in life. She relaxed the hand that held her sword. Death was coming, and no one was there. She was going to die alone.

Finally, she heard it. The howl. The scything claw descended. Maria's eyes remained tightly shut.

But the howl of victory turned to a howl of pain, and she quickly reopened her eyes. The huge predator reared up before her, an arrow in his back. Confused, she looked up through a haze of pain, water, and lightning to see another arrow strike the beast in the head. It howled once more and fell to the ground, blood streaming from its wounds. Dark black fire leapt from somewhere over the bridge to consume the creature's carcass.

She held very still and waited. Who would be out here at such an hour? she wondered. Who's brave enough to fight a giant Wolfos? And why . . . .?

Maria heard the tramp of heavy boots quite close to her. A hooded figure loomed out of the darkness and bent down beside her. She glared in mistrust and reached inside her shirt, touching the hilt of a knife strapped to her arm. The form seemed unfazed, and brushed against her bleeding shoulder wound with gloved fingers. She flinched in pain, frozen by her fear.

The figure knelt at her side for a few moments, examining the cuts and bruises all over her arms and face.

He (or she? Maria couldn't tell) slid one arm around her back and the other under her knees, carefully lifting her from the sodden ground. She flinched again and closed her eyes. Darkness began to envelop the corners of her vision. She gave into unconsciousness as the figure lifted her up onto a horse, mounted behind her, and set off at a gentle trot toward the west, sheltered from the cold rain by the warmth of victory.

Me: Well, what do you think? I know it's short, but I'd like at least one review, please?

REWRITTEN Friday, July 18, 2008, 8:16 PM.