Hello! This is a sequel to my fic Matters of the State. It it NOT necessary to read Matters before this story however I can guarantee you will get buckets more information and enjoyment if you do if only because of the names and how the story shapes up near the end. If you end up at a place later in this story where stuff is simply falling apart and you don't get it, it's probably a good sign that I'm making heavy references to events in the preceding story.

However, as of right now Aug-28-09, that should not be the case.

The bolding mid-way through the chapter isn't actually for reading emphasis. Rather, the effect I was going for is one where, if you just skim the bolded words, you get the proper sense of what's going on. It's more to set the mood than provide any sensory appeal. New story, new techniques.

If I end up dropping this story or go an extended period without updating, please PM me and bother me for a bit to get me writing again. Chances are good that that's all I'll need.

Enjoy!


Time and Again

Prologue

The low light of a single candle held the room in a deep crimson glow, an empty hearth had burned itself out during the night, and the lonely flame was just newly struck. The master of the chamber, of the very castle itself, stood before the tall standing mirror far across the rugs from the thick, four-poster bed where his wife lay sleeping. Her body swathed in white linens and soft blankets, swelling with the rich gift of the new life kindling within her, these were the foremost thought in his mind, but at this time; life was not something he was allowed to ponder.

The gentle creek of half-finger gloves and long arm guards was the only intrusive noise in their chambers, shared for nearly two years of their lives thus far. And that had certainly caused a commotion in and of itself; they had earned peace in their youth, but had needed to fight with words in order too validate their union. Had he not renounced any claim to positioning himself as King it was likely that life would have been made even more difficult for them than it could be all on its' own.

In his mind, he knew that he would greatly enjoy his wife's attentions when he returned. In his heart, however… he felt the crushing need to wake and embrace her, show his love for her in its' truest form, and –above all- to say goodbye. However, to say goodbye would mean some form of admittance that this danger may be more so than those he had come across before. Admittance that he may not return this time.

And what was more, here, in private; he may very well be forced to watch her cry. And that alone he knew would soften his nerve enough that he might not even go.

Oh, what a horrible lie. He frowned darkly into the mirror as those forbidden thoughts would not leave him. A lie, a lie! Already had he seen her tears; last night, and in this very chamber. An evening banquet in the castle's Grand Hall had been rudely interrupted by the tolling of temple bells. Warning enough of a summons? Nay, true warning had come with the abrupt, uncharacteristic silence of Farore's bells, her sword of Evil's bane appearing –utterly from the air which is her breath!- at his side in the hall. Its' royal blue wings fanned out to prop it up, golden crest shimmering in candle and torch light, the abrupt end to a dinner truly spoiled.

That sword was with him now, and he could not remove his eye from it's reflection in the mirror before him. Fine links of spelled chain mail glittered across his chest in the low light before his thick green tunic came down to hide the armor. The ancient sword stood at the ready, its' harness and scabbard all within perfect condition without his needing to attend to a single thing with them. The chilling efficiency of the gods… Soon, he would ride. Ride boldly through the pre-dawn darkness towards a destiny unknown.

Destiny? What destiny was this? Had he not paid his dues? Run rampant through time on so many occasions it was a miracle he had not lost himself in the flow? Had he not escaped death by the skin of his teeth so many times before that he must now continue to do so again? Where was his life through all of this? It was not out in the twilight with a sword in hand and no companionship save his thoughts. It was here, in this castle, in his chamber with his wife. His life was here, placing his ear against a swelling stomach and acting the fool as all men do in the face of things which they cannot ever comprehend.

And yet, he must still go. Go, and ride through that damnable darkness again… Did his spirit –in part- reside in the thrill of adventure? Did he not miss sleeping beneath the stars, and answering to no one but himself, acting as a part of the big picture instead of courtly scheming? Of course he did, somewhere in his blood he'd found all the skill and knowledge of the sword and lived by it. But by the gods he wanted this life more!

A small escort was readying itself below as he was now in his chambers, preparing to ride out with him towards that fate. There had been chilling rumors running rampant across the countryside for weeks now, dark things stirring in the shadows, evil powers resurrecting themselves in the midst of the Golden Land itself. It chilled him, those thoughts, those rumors and the possibilities they carried for the future. He had seen the future, so many times had he seen and walked through times before his own, had he been there for the sole purpose of undoing those realities and substituting for them the futures the Gods dictated.

These journeys through time had hurt him, yes, oh yes they had. But None so badly as his first venture. Through the very Door of Time itself had he walked, unaware as to what powers rested within. But it had been scarring none the less. His childhood had been stolen from him in a mass of bloody chaos. Had the woman from that future, who was his wife in this present, sent him back to his childhood to be a boy? Innocent and sweet and naïve to the world? Of course she had, even after a life of untold pain and strife, his Zelda was still his Queen.

But had it erased the memories? Never. It had not darkened the sense of terror which had slept within him for years afterwards. He had fled Hyrule itself as a boy for those years, darkness following him both in his mind and in the world itself. To the lands of Labrynna, Hollodrum, and Terminia he'd gone, always encountering some malevolence, always unable to deny the tug at his heart which made him fight and right the wrongs around him.

A holy knight, a paladin, people called him those things. Who was he to deny it? Did he not run to the beck and call of the Gods? Did he not fight in their name? Yes, yes he did. He used their powers, their weapons, their names and anything else which ever came to him over the course of those sleepless nights and overwhelming battles. He had seen other futures since then, few as terrible to behold as the very first, but perhaps that was only by comparison of what he had endured in his lifetime.

Not once in all the years past had he remembered to adjust the straps of the Master Sword so as to keep the leather from biting into his shoulder, and this pre-dawn dressing was no different. He scowled into the mirror as he rolled his shoulder experimentally, the twinge of the leather and the weight it held was familiar to him, too familiar. He picked his shield up off the floor and hooked it onto the blue and gold scabbard of the Master Sword to rest within easy reach incase it was needed, and turned once more to the bed.

He shouldn't touch her, he knew it. His mind solidly forbade nearing his wife where she remained in a deep slumber, but oh, the pain in his heart was not something he could deny. As gently as he could while still being able to touch her, he softly ran the tips of his fingers across her brow, stroking one cheek lovingly as he watched the even lengths of her breaths. A child, their child, his child, rested within her belly, and silently he swore to return before the birth. Bending down onto one knee, he leaned over her and gave her one final, parting kiss, his lips grazing her soft warm skin he feared she may not have even felt it in her dreams.

"Wait for me… and I'll return to you, my love."


'The Reign of Her Royal Majesty the Queen Zelda III was remarkable in its brief length and the tragedy of it as a whole. It is also seen as the return to Hyrule's downward slide.

Prior to the reigns of Queen Zelda III and her father, King Adolphus I, Hyrule's monarch had been rampant with scandal and the mis-management of power and people. During the thirty years of the two monarch's separate reigns, this cycle of decay was put on hiatus, but swiftly returned after the Queen's death.

Short months after having assumed her throne as Queen, the legendary Hero of Time, Chosen of Farore, and husband to the Queen, was called by the gods to seal an evil which had reawakened within the kingdom's heart. Histories and documents of the time reveal that on this befouled day the voice of the Dark King was heard booming across the land:

'I shall take you now from that which gives you strength; the sweet nectar, the fruits of your labours. They shall remain barren of your touch, allowing the bounty of your spiteful gods to wither and fall upon my Goddess's barren earth. You shall stand tall, but only to see the blood of your sons splattered across the cracked ground!'

The disappearance of the Hero was a dark omen for many. With him went the Triforce Shard of Courage, as well as the legendary Master Sword of Farore, which never reappeared within the Temple of Time.

By mid-winter of the same year, the Queen died in childbed, her health having deteriorated due to un-named illness. It was not her Majesty but rather her royal cousin, Lord Salvin of the Central Lanayru province who named her son, the Prince Nohansen Hyrule, and oversaw the boy throughout his life.

Prince Nohansen was a boy of rebellious spunk and resentment towards his position in life. He rejected formality in a manner far more brash than his legendary father, and often spoke spitefully of both parents and how despite their lack of presence in his life, he was constantly restricted by them. Crowned upon his fifteenth birthing day, King Nohansen IV never truly assumed his position in anything more than name. He took a young wife from the upper nobility and proceeded to have several children to pass on the throne which he never truly sat upon. Most matters of the state were attended to by numerous lords, and overseen by the Lord Salvin. Despite his mother's death some years before, the Triforce shard of Wisdom never successfully reappeared within King Nohansen or any of his children thereafter.

King Nohansen V, son of King Nohansen IV, was a polite, soft-spoken child who was placed upon the throne when his father fell deathly ill and died eighteen years into his reign. Many were fondly reminded of the Queen Zelda, his grandmother, and his great grandfather King Adolphus I, when the young King was mentioned. Regrettably, an unfortunate spill down a flight of steps in the palace while in the company of the young Lady Edith, granddaughter of the Lord Salvin, snapped his neck some months later. As a result his brother, King Darfus III, known for his foul temper and hatred for responsibility, assumed the throne.

Three years later, the Lady Edith of Central Lanayru became Queen Edith I.

The genealogy of the royal family becomes difficult to follow after this point due to a sudden fire in the Royal Library some eighty years after the death of King Darfus III. Reportedly, His Majesty King Mathias VII entered the older areas of the Library with a candle one evening and fell asleep; this is the accepted explanation despite many rumors at the time denouncing his Majesty's literacy.

Nearly two hundred years after the disappearance of the Hero of Time and the Triforce Shards of Wisdom and Courage, Queen Zelda IX assumed the throne after a vicious battle with Lady Cornelia of LonLon city, who claimed her unborn child to be the product of an illicit union with the late King Segev IV.

Queen Zelda IX's first order as Reigning Monarch was the beheading of Lady Cornelia, the armed assault on LonLon city when rebellion broke out, and the 'Ordering' of Hylian society. Following the now timeless practice of pointed-eared members of society being of better stock than those without- due to their being closer linked to the divine- Kakariko City, LonLon City, and other municipalities large and small were systematically searched, and round-eared business owners and crafts folk were forced from their homes and into the countryside as labourers.

The Ordering brought about a period of food surplus, which was sold off in large amounts to the far north east ten years into Zelda XI's reign where the land of Labrynna was plagued by massive drought. The middle land of Hollodrum profited greatly during the famine, working together with Hyrule, grain was bought for higher-than-reasonable prices by the middle territory, and sold to the Labrynnian monarch for astonishing amounts. The end result of the famine five years later was the bankruptcy of the country, and its reversion once more into a state of anarchy. Regrettably, unlike the fall of the Ambi house several hundred years prior, the land became overrun with warlords and feuding houses.

In the final years of Queen Zelda XI's reign, a massive military movement was brought about in partnership with the newly formed Republic of Hollodrum. Twelve years of fighting later during the reign of Queen ZeldaXII, Southern Labrynna became a colony of the Golden Land, and the northern sectors of the country were absorbed into the Republic.

Crescent Island in Labrynna's southern seas declared its independence from Hyrule ten years later, and civil war erupted across the Tokay archipelago. The Colony of South Labrynna had amassed a large navy in the decade leading up to the war, and the Tokay rebellion was swiftly crushed. It would be another three centuries of enmity and bitterness between the island colony and the motherland before the Republic of Brothers emerged as an autonomous state. However, to this day, many Tokay cultural values and beliefs have been lost after years of oppression.

Within Hylian boarders, enmity during the reign of King Salvin VI led to a massive division between the four peoples of Hyrule. Beginning four hundred years after the disappearance of the Hero, plague in the Gerudo Valley in the west of Hyrule and the refusal of the monarch to address the issue left the predominantly female population drastically weakened.

Socially, a series of propaganda was used revealing Gerudos as thieving women of questionably low morals. They are often painted into legend as witches and demons. The standing belief that the Sage of Spirit, the Gerudo Nobooru, was enslaved by the Hero through the will of the Master Sword has little if any standing in Gerudo retellings. These are, of course, highly invalid. The Great Fires of Din occurred as a stance of rebellion against the Crown and their refusal to acknowledge the desert women. Several hundred Plague survivors allowed themselves to die in tribute to the Goddess Din as they destroyed her pinnacle shrine.

There was never any response from the Capital, several surveyors were reportedly sent to measure the scope of the damage, but no aid was ever parceled out to the abused state. The desert, later re-named the Gerudo Mesa, eventually became the sight of a massive prison, and a fabled Mirror of power. The Prison was built over the ruins of Din's Temple, a supposedly sacrilegious act, but carried through with none the less. By the reign of Princess Zelda XVII however, the prison and temple were once more reduced to ruin through lack of maintenance, many fearing the dark monument to be cursed.

Insulted by this lack of concern on the part of the Hylian Kings, both the Zora and Goron tribes of the north pressured the monarchy to amend their ways and make peace. Needless to say, these discussions and demands were shrewdly met with coarse rebuttals and sharp insults.

During one fierce midnight storm in the high season of summer, tensions at last reached their breaking point, and the Palace came under attack. The outer gates of the city were bombarded by Goron brawn before the once-peaceful miners broke through to cause havoc in the streets. Hyrule was ill prepared for such a strike, and sent as many soldiers as possible into the city to try and regain order. This left the palace itself poorly guarded and open to attack from within.

The Water Corridor; a submerged wing of the Palace built for the comfort and pleasure of visiting Zora, was overrun with masked soldiers and staff wielders. Blindsided by this, it was a cold and bloody night until the attacking parties found what they had been searching for; the Hero's Gem.

The near forgotten day the Hero of Time was stolen from the Golden Land marked the discovery of the Hero's gem. According to accounts from the time, where the Hero had stood mere moments before, only a glittering emerald remained. The Hero's Gem is the size of a man's palm, with a decidedly crimson sheen to it in the light. The massive artifact is also rimmed in gold, with spiraling vines forming a base of sorts for it.

Not all historians agree on the legitimacy of the existence of the Hero's Gem. According to reports, up until the attack on the capital, the Hero's Gem was kept safe within the throne room of Hyrule castle, as was decreed by the Hero's wife, one of the many Queen Zeldas. Afterwards, the location of the gem has been rumoured to reside within the hands of either the Goron or Zora tribes, hidden high within their united state encompassing the northern half of the entire continent… Following this blow to Hylian lore came the reign of Princess Zelda XVII. The faulty bearer of Wisdom…

Princess Zelda XVII is an anomaly in the timeline of the Royal Family. Surviving her father King Ladkehan, the Princess Zelda XVII is the only known bearer of the Triforce following her ancestor from the age of the Hero of Time.

Regrettably, although logs of the time are sketchy at best, it is clear that some manner of war –civil or otherwise- broke out across Hyrule for a period of nearly two years. Rumours from the time indicate that a Hero emerged from the conflict to quell it, and popular belief even now is that this Hero was the successive bearer of the Triforce of Courage. Unfortunately, all which records indicate of this man are his fierce, wildly blue eyes; and his coined title as 'The Hero of Wolves'…

Come the end of the conflict across Hyrule, the Royal castle was utterly destroyed in a cataclysmic attack from the earth itself. The powerless Zelda was killed several months later at the build sight of the New Palace; an angry mob had risen in response to the rising costs and labours of rebuilding the faulty seat of power. The body of the Princess was later found buried under mounds of rubble, upon examination of her hands however it was later revealed that she was not the bearer of the Triforce. To this day the palace remains in a state of disrepair

In the humble beliefs of an old man, it is the abandonment of the people for their Gods, the three Great Mothers of the heavens which have brought this plague of monarchy upon the people. Elsewhere men and women live peacefully and prosper, whereas those of the Golden Land wallow in their own filth, fighting for survival.

Even under the leadership of an elected council of men, the Republic of Hollodrum prospers, the Temple of Seasons standing with its doors open to those willing to pay homage to the forces of the Year. The Archipelago Brotherhood dance and sing in their heathen ways, and yet there is always food for their young. Why then is the Golden Land of Hyrule the only place where men are only alike in that they are caked in grime? The Temple of Time lies in shambles! It is no wonder why the legendary Sword of Evil's Bane has not returned!

Renounce thy faulty path! Give thanks to the Goddesses for their bountiful gifts! Repent! Re-'

"Din's Flames, it's just another radical." With a loud thump, his hands came down over the thick cover of the tome, slamming it shut and regretting the action as a cloud of dust was kicked up. Hacking in surprise, a bitter curse passed his lips as the lone candle he'd been reading by was snuffed out. Brilliant.

"Flint, flint, fli- yeow!" Jumping blindly as his hand accidentally closed around the hot wax instead of the cold metal of the flint stick kept at the flame's base, a second bang was set off as the low ceiling connected with the top of his head. Stupid crawl spaces. Stupid books, stupid lack of library. If there weren't eight other boys with him back in his room, he could skip this whole mess and just read peacefully in there.

Forget flint. With a rough hiss and a puff of sour sulphur, one of the fire sticks tucked into his britches set itself aflame between his fingers. The tiny light flickered and wavered dangerously as a draft caught it between the old boards and settled stones. Green eyes watched as his steady hands brought bent wick and shy flame together, holding for a moment until the candle was lit again and he was sure not to blow both flames out with a sharp puff.

There wasn't much room down here, not at all. When he'd been younger there had been enough for him to sit up and make this his private little home, but the winter months had lengthened his legs, and made his feet widen clumsily. All you had to do too find this tunnel and the hundreds like it was move any of the un-mortared blocks littering the palace's corridors and back rooms. Of course, more than not you'd find an unsightly amount of rat droppings, or better yet one of the vermin themselves, but no one could find him when he escaped into the walls, so long as he was quiet they couldn't hear him under the floors.

Of course, it was always dark as sin in these places, one learned to stop fearing spiders soon after making habit of these forays. His only regret was that he hadn't been the first to find them, although he was sure by now that no one else knew of them, or if they did they'd become to big to crawl around inside. On the insides of every moveable block were these odd chains or groves, just right for a boy his size or smaller to stick his toes into and pull the blocks back into place with none the wiser. At all the twists and turns, there were small markings scratched on walls, one said 'Kitchen', -just a loaf of bread carved on the brick though- another, 'Throne room'- a crown- but he always liked this place better, he just had to crawl along the path marked, 'Hovel'. A nest.

The Hovel. Even as a boy of eleven, he could still crawl in through the small portal and stand and even walk around a few steps. It was a small, circular chamber with only the one exit. It was black as sin like the rest of the crawlspaces, but bigger for a reason he hadn't thought of yet. He had no idea how many generations of boys it had taken to built the Hovel up to what it was now, but there were shelves scattered around under the three-foot high walls, a couple pockets dug out of the stones by rats and used by slave boys like him to hide marbles and bits of string in.

That was the odd thing though, other boys stashed food and toys and stolen goods in the Hovel-sometimes even books like the one he'd been reading. But him, he had something more worldly tucked away.

Holding his candle up carefully, now that winter was passing along he needed to make sure everything was in order for his leave-taking. Soon the stifling heat of summer would come rolling down from the mountains, and turn the tunnels and hollows into ovens fit to bake a boy or a rat. Shuffling on his knees towards one of the shelves, he rifled around for a moment before pulling out a hard bit of bread. Tearing off a small bit with his teeth, he chewed at the hard, unyielding bit before tossing the rest of the lump back down. No, he wasn't hungry enough to eat something from last season; it wasn't one of this morning's prizes for stealth.

Instead, he wiggled one of the smaller bricks loose from the wall to look at what was inside. He'd have to move his stash soon or wind up like the last boy who'd tried what he was at now. The crawlspaces were getting too small for him; he'd nearly gotten his ungodly large feet stuck in the grooves of the entry stone today. Inside the brick's hollow inside was a pouch, pulling it out, he was pleased with the weight as he judged it in his hand, putting the brick back and setting the candle down. Careful with the bag, he undid the drawstring and upended it over the stone floor.

"Seven, eight, nine…" Green shards of crystal struck the floor with a sweet tinkle of triumph, one precious blue the colour of a spring sky was nestled amongst them. Most importantly however was the sunny yellow of the smallest shard, only about as large as the pad of his thumb. The blue and the yellow alone brought his fund up to over fifteen rupees. Happy day indeed. "Twenty-one."

Carefully counting them once again as he gingerly dropped each tiny crystal back into the pouch, there was a grin on his face and a less than angelic twinkle in his green eyes. Tightening the pouch and hiding it once again, it was a shame to be leaving right as the good weather was fading, but he almost had enough money to keep him going. Besides, if he didn't leave soon, he wouldn't be able to fit through that tantalizing space labeled 'Outer Wall.' Well, technically it was a badly drawn sketch of the castle, and an arrow leading away from it. Freedom was just within sight, and greed wouldn't make him miss out.

Crawling back over to the abandoned tome on the dusty, dirty stone floor, he parted the pages carefully and looked over the splotchy cramped text of the writer. It was a shame the man had started spiraling off into rants about ancient gods. All those names were used for now were curses, just something people said without thinking.

'The Hero's Gem is the size of a man's palm, with a decidedly crimson sheen to it in the light. The massive artifact is also rimmed in gold, with spiraling vines forming a base of sorts for it.'

Tapping his fingers along the old yellowing pages, his smile grew a little less innocent, matching well with his eyes. Carefully, gingerly, he gripped the sides of the book, holding the bindings with one and the page in the other. A few moments later, the dry, dusty crackle of shredding paper flittered through the air, raising a bit of dust before two more drawn out rips left the Hovel in silence once again.

'the location of the gem has been rumored to reside within the hands of either the Goron or Zora tribes, hidden high within their united state encompassing the northern half of the entire continent…' With a rock like that, he could buy the crown if he pleased… Chuckling to himself mischievously, the two torn pages were folded over one another several times and slipped neatly into the pocket of his britches next to the fire sticks.

"Gods and their gold…"


Well, now that I'm finished rambling, please review! This is as close to original fiction as I think I've ever come, it gets more Zelda-ish of course, but the next little while really doesn't seem that way.