What if . . . Link's parents lived?

"What's going on? What were you talking about?"

Their faces were enough to forewarn him that some sort of conflict was brewing beneath the exterior of their jovial shell. They were more so close as a family than some lesser-fortunate ones that he could name off of the top of his head. However, even in the non-dysfunctional families there was always a moment or two that caused instantaneous panic.

"We were just talking, dear, just like parents do from time to time."

"How come you stopped when I walked in?"

"We were surprised, that's all-"

The feminine voice was abruptly cut off as a sharp tone interjected with the flow of accusation and cover-up.

"We can't hide it from him any longer. He must know, and now is as good a time as ever."

"Know what? Mama?"

"I refuse to let my son be carried away like some servant to the royal guard!"

Her outburst was one in many that had been occurring over the past few months. Anybody could have easily recognized the tension that gradually began to condense and linger about the atmosphere of their homely abode. His father managed to maintain a level-headed look on his facial features, but such a stoic expression was typical in men his age (particularly fathers.) However, his mother did not attain the same set of abilities as her husband. Her cheeks were often tear-stained, and her words became shorter and shorter as each day passed by. She did not seem angry, per say, but it was difficult to decipher any sort of valid feeling from her in the first place.

The more masculine voice spoke up once more.

"You'll hide him from the truth until the King himself bursts through that door and forcefully takes our son away from us? Is that what you would rather endure?"

"But he's only ten-years-old! He shouldn't have to carry the burden of a Goddess-forsaken land on his shoulders!"

"Mama, Da, what is going on? What do you want to tell me?"

"We knew this was coming from the very beginning. We knew that we would have to cope with this when the time came, and we both accepted it on the behalf of our land."

"But, he's so young! He has so much to live for . . . I can't just let him throw it all away by putting himself directly in harm's way."

"Hey! Why won't anybody talk to me?!"

His premature voice cracked out against the overtone of his parent's argument. They both stopped and diverted their gaze to their son standing before them. Their hard-glazed eyes softened, and a sort of precious memory settled in the light mist of their inner minds. At that moment, despite the aggravation welling within him, he felt as if he was being looked upon as something as pure as new fallen snow that had yet to be trampled on by over joyous children. His parents lowered their pulsing arms and just looked at him; looked at him like a mother hound would at her first litter of newborn pups.

"Son . . ."

"Oh, my baby . . . My poor baby."

"What's going on? Why are you staring at me like that?"

He was young according to the number age which had been tacked to him on the day that he was born. However, young though he may be considered, he felt mature in his mind and actions. Especially at that moment when both his father and mother peered at him with eyes that refused to flit anywhere else.

"Listen to me, m'boy. Hyrule is in for a fit of chaos. You've learned about it in your studies, haven't you?"

"Suspicions of possible evil doings are on the rise, and it is difficult to separate the rumors from the truth. The tension is thick enough around Hyrule Castle that you could cut it with a knife."

He recited the statements from his studies as if he had been drilled with him for three years of his life.

"That's right, son, that's right. Now, have you learned of the prophecies? Of the foretelling, and the genuine hope that Hyrule will always have a savior?"

"It is said that when in need, the land of Hyrule will call upon the Hero of Time to be the savior of the land and its people. The Hero of Time will arise and defeat the evil beings that threaten the land."

He recited once more.

"Oh, stop it, please! Don't force this on him!"

"That's right, son! You've done your studies."

"Okay, but what do my studies have to do with you two fighting?"

The father and son continued their conversation in ignorance to his mother's pleas.

"Son, it all fits together like a puzzle. Rumors are on the wind of a new evil ascending to power right beneath the king's nose. Villagers are beginning to turn on their neighbors due to paranoia, and even the multiple races of Hyrule are confining themselves to their natural habitat for fear of what is beginning in the mainland. The calling of the Hero of Time is upon us, and . . ."

"Leave him alone! Stop it, please, he doesn't need this! Let him be a child!"

"Mama, what are you saying? Da? What about the Hero of Time? What is going on that has you two so crazed?"

"You are the Hero of Time, Link, my son!"

Silence. The inevitable silence that was prone to awkward moments crept into the room like a fog on a rainy night. The occupants could not hide from the lack of noise. It was deafening despite its magnitude of quietness. Not even a sob emitted from the throat of his mother, who honestly looked as if she would burst at any moment with tears that would flow to the end of the decade. His father stood as stoic as before with his eyes slit and forced to connect with those of his son's. He could feel his father ripping at himself on the inside. What father could bestow such a cursed package onto his ten-year-old son? It was a duty that called for more courage than what was kept in the Triforce itself, and his father had all intention to keep that courage from faltering in front of his boy.

Link did not move. His parents did not move. He remained still as the furniture surrounding him. They were nice pieces of furniture. A bed was in the corner, and a table arranged directly in the middle with colorful books strewn across its grainy top. They were old and well below the standard of any noble family, but they were comfortable and homely. Memories were chipped and scuffed into the wood and cushions. They were his memories, and it was his furniture in his home with his parents.

It was all apart of his life, which had just been ripped from beneath his grasp.

He wanted to shout and scream in protest. He wanted to refuse any such occupation, and that was the only suitable title that he could think of for it. He wanted to take the very idea of the Hero of Time and throw it down the Gerudo Valley ravine, and turn his back as it plummeted to unknown depths. But, he couldn't. He couldn't find the voice to shout his disapproval. He couldn't ward off the undeniable acceptance which welled in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't dare turn his back to his future when he knew that it was sailing down into the hands of some unknown force. Besides all that, however; besides the tiniest flicker of knowledge that reminded him of his destiny and how he knew that it was the right thing to accept, there was anger. Anger swirled in his sub conscious and was wrought from the deepest niches of his mind. It all combined into a blazing sphere of emotion that tugged at every last string within his little frame. He was angry at the Goddesses for creating a world with such flaws. He was angry at the unknown evil that was rising to power somewhere in his homeland. He was angry at his parents for hiding the secret from him for such an extended interval of time.

"How could you . . . How could you, uh . . . How could you hide this from me? Your son? How could you give me this false identity to run around with, and then throw something as immense as this in my face? You're telling me that I have to go off and save Hyrule now? You're saying that I have to take on the responsibility of an entire land, and you're just now choosing to tell me? Now?!"

Most of all he was angry at himself for being too immature to understand his parent's situation.

"Why should I have to be the one that takes on Hyrule's troubles? Isn't that what soldiers and the royalty are for? Why would they even take the time to look at a kid at a time like this? Why should they? I don't know how to use a sword, and I definitely don't know anything about rescuing lands and-and-and killing people!"

The silence returned, although it was sprinkled with sobs of true suffering. His mother could not contain her tears for another moment, and they leaked through every crevice of her eyes, burnishing the turquoise-ringed pupil with a shining finish. Except, it wasn't a shining of joy or pride. Her eyes shined with the agony of realization. His father's nostrils flared as the only sign of giving in to his emotional turmoil. Everything that he had built up in his defense system slowly and torturously began to crumble. First his nostrils flared, then his fists began to clench tighter, and finally he huffed a short breath into his quickly drying throat.

"Link . . ."

The name of his only son was choked against his misery.

"We love you."

Silence.

". . .I love you too."