On the edge of the forest, the westernmost side of Faron, was a cottage. It contained a small family of two, a husband and wife, who lived contently off the land. He hunted and traded in the city, while she sewed clothing and tended to the small garden on the edge of the wood. They were happy, and had all they needed.
One night, however, Celia's belly bulged. Just a bit, but it was there. The couple was delighted. They'd never had a child before.
Nine months later, a little boy came into the world. He had little pointy ears and a little growth of blonde hair. At first, his parents knew not what to name him, but after the little Triforce on his hand pulsed, Celia's head snapped up. "Link," she whispered. That was it.
Maes and Celia knew the importance of their bloodline, and knew how they had to protect it. When the Goddesses named the boy Link, though, they knew. They knew what he would become, and what he would endure. So they sought to protect him, and make sure that he could at least grow up peacefully.
Their attempts, of course, were futile.
One night, Maes heard a loud thump. Looking out the window, he saw a flash of red, and upon a bit more search, was met with gold. Suddenly, the window shattered. With a startled yelp, he pulled from the impact, holding a hand in front of Celia as she rushed up. "Celia," he called, a determined edge to his voice, "take Link. Get out the back door and run, run as fast as you can. I'll stall him; you just need to get away."
"But...But what about you?" Celia whimpered. She was afraid of the consequences of her husband's , but she knew it was for the best. But she needed to try.
"I told you, I'll stall him! Get out! Run! Now!"
With a fearful sob, Celia spun around and raced over to her son, scooping him up and racing to the back door. She closed her eyes as she heard a shing, then multiple clangs and suddenly... silence. A deafening, ear-piercing silence. As she freely let her sobs wrack her small frame and echo throughout the forest, laughing followed her, tripping her up and throwing her off course. The whole dash was made with a constant mantra in her thoughts:
Escape...Escape...Maes didn't die in vain...Escape...
The widow's chant was cut short with a cry as her foot caught on a root. "Dammit," she whispered fiercely, scrambling back up. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"
As soon as she was up again Celia continued sprinting. Her heart was running a marathon, her lungs screamed at her for air, and her legs were cramping up, but to none of these did she stop. She had to save her son, and by Din, she would succeed!
That thought gave her a burst of speed, and on she went. Little did she expect, though, that her attacker had allies.
Allies with arrows.
A gasp was torn from her lips as a sharp, burning pain embedded itself into her back, forcing her to the ground. With her last shuddering breaths, Celia curled herself around her baby, one last attempt at his safety. Her oxygen intake grew shallow, and eventually stilled. Her features were frozen with a desperate, ferocious scowl.
Deep laughter sounded behind the corpse as the archers drew away. A dark figure sauntered up to the deceased mother, his gold eyes glinting in the pale moonlight. "Ah, run, run, little deer," he cooed. "Run from the wolf... Run with the vain hopes of escape... And fall!"
Stooping over, he unceremoniously unwrapped the woman's arms and removed her from the child. He was strangely quiet, the man noted, and supposed he just hit his head in the fall. With a shrug, the attacker scooped the boy up, cradling him in the crook of his left elbow.
"Shh, little Hero," he cooed, "Father's here."