The pirates believed he was the son of a sorceress and that one look from his blue eyes would be enough to a strip a man of his soul. They remembered the day they found him on their ship, his blue eyes wide with a nameless expression and his pale hands shaking blood dripping down his tunic, and they remembered how they had stopped at one glance from those eyes and they knew that they could not kill him.
Of course whenever Tetra heard this she reprimanded them and cursed them for their goddamn stupidity and superstitions. She did not become captain of a ship believing in witches and wild magic. She was captain because she was strong and she was wise, even the other pirates had come to respect Tetra as a force upon the sea, she was merciless, if she caught them out of line they would be killed without exception. Tetra built her reputation upon her ruthlessness and she wasn't about to have that reputation ruined by a mere child.
Yet, there were times, when she was alone and out of sight of all but the moon, that she had her doubts.
She was thinking about it now, her yellow hair pulled back from her young tanned face as she stared down at the papers littered across her desk, searching for an answer among the ink stains. The moon was a mere crescent that night, only a sliver that illuminated her doubts. She had never believed in ghosts before.
He wasn't human, he looked human, and he acted human most of the time, but he wasn't human. She wasn't sure when she came to this conclusion, this wasn't the first night she's had that thought, only the first night she's taken it for a fact. The boy wasn't human, he was something she didn't have a name for yet.
She pictured him in her mind, saw his pale skin and his blonde hair that turned almost white in direct sunlight, saw his light blue eyes reflecting both the sky and sea, and saw his childish smile and heard his bright laughter.
Beneath her critical gaze the illusion shattered and she saw past that mask of childish innocence and saw the raw power that waited beneath. She saw the boy standing upon her ship in the face of five grown men, blood running down the side of his face, and his left hand gripping the hilt of his sword.
The sliver of moonlight widened and the lantern swung back and forth, the shadows on the letters changing direction until the words changed meanings completely.
There were times when the mask slipped, she didn't know if he was aware of these moments or not, only that they happened. His eyes would change; they would begin to burn pale as if a cloud of mist had suddenly engulfed the sky. Suddenly she would find herself staring into eyes that were distant and cold, with a strange expression that she could never name lost within their depths, but then the moment would be gone before she could comment upon it.
She had thought he was a child, from some noble rich family, a boy who had never had to work a day in his life; an eccentric stupid little boy with pale skin and uncalloused hands who had the nerve to be caught alone upon the open sea. She had enjoyed picturing him in his home wherever that may have been, on some distant island drinking tea freshly made for him by his servants.
There was something wrong with that image though, and the longer she stared at it the more faults she found. His masks were not perfect and though they were very good and almost convincing they weren't perfect, she could see the cracks in the paint.
She closed her eyes on the image staring instead out on the moon which did not reflect his face, and she wondered how she should confront this problem, this boy that wasn't a boy. Her ruthlessness was failing her and by the time the morning's light came she was left without an answer.
He stood upon the edge of bow, his face towards the sea and his blue eyes closed, his yellow hair whipped behind him and the waves lashed up at his still form. His arms were raised, the silver wand held in his left, the wind held delicately between his curled fingertips.
The waves and wind stopped at the slight movement of his hands, the tempest held its breath as it watched his arms begin to move, the silver baton danced and the waves began to rise the wind began to curl about his feet. His arms flowed through the wind, parting the air swiftly and evenly, his head bowed and his eyes still closed, a small smile streaked across his face and his hands danced faster.
The wind changed directions and suddenly they weren't sailing the way they used to, the boat had turned with the waves, with his wand and they were headed somewhere else entirely, completely within his pale hands. The orchestra of the winds bowed only to his command and with his silver wand he created the symphony.
His eyes remained closed and a smile still captured his features.
Before the fire they sat, the pirates rubbing their hands as they watched their mistress, watching as the flames flickered into the black night air. The boy was watching them too, the sparks reflecting in the light blue of his eyes, he watched them in silence while listening to the pirates' tales.
It was Tetra who confronted him, her dark eyes flashing and her voice dark.
"So, Link, what stories do you have to share?" She asked, her eyes never leaving his, watching as the sparks rose and fell in their depths. He blinked and his eyes began to withdraw from hers, become distant and leave her only with questions and no answers.
The laughter lingered then died, the pirates looked at her and the boy with terror in their eyes, their bearded faces grim in apprehension of the consequences of questioning the child of a witch. Suddenly they looked old, far older than Tetra and the boy, their fear producing lines on their faces and sorrow in their eyes. She didn't look back at them.
He didn't respond, his silence supplying his answer for him whatever she chose that answer to be. He often did that, when asked for a question or an opinion the wind would answer for him and the questioner would be left unsatisfied. She didn't yield.
"Come on Link, someone must have told you some story some time in your life." She wasn't asking this time, she leaned closer to his pale face and he leaned back.
She often felt that they were toying with each other, an old forgotten game that she only half remembered, she moved forwards he moved back, she moved to the left he stood his ground, she lunged and he blocked. She could see the game pieces laid out before them, she could see his king standing alone upon the battlefield, almost within reach. They had played this game before.
He looked away from them, towards the ceiling of the room to where somewhere outside the moon hung from the sky. He looked back, straight at her, the magic burning bright in his eyes, no longer those cheerful eyes that he liked to show. Distantly she realized that he was allowing her to see through the mask, and whatever waited behind that little boy's face was more ancient and powerful than she had ever thought.
"You wouldn't enjoy them." He said evenly in his soft voice, the men around the flame scooted backwards away from his pale face and the fire's heat.
"I believe that I would, so Link, tell me a story."
He smiled then, a smile she hadn't seen on his face before, and for a moment she was reminded of the wolves that sometimes waited upon land. The wolves laced with shadows that turned into smoke when slaughtered.
"Alright Tetra, I'll tell you a story that was once told to me…"
There was once a young boy who was a prophet of the goddesses, he wore the sign of courage upon his left hand and in times of peril he bore it proudly. He lived in a place called Hyrule, in the woods, but one day he didn't live there anymore because the goddesses needed his help.
There was a man, a very desperate man, a man who had dark sorcery at his disposal. He felt it was his duty to his people to eliminate Hyrule from the world, and that the throne belonged to him, but he forgot that the ends don't justify the means and that sometimes we sacrifice too much for our goals.
He unleashed his army upon the countryside and the people fell one by one, until very few were left alive. They boy was sent to stop him, but he was too young, and he had already failed them once before. They sent him back and forth across time, stretching him so thin that he almost tore in half, but he went because he had to and because he knew that if he didn't… something terrible would happen.
He was a hero, heroes do what they have to even when they question and scream inside, even when they're being torn in half and are broken they do what they have to. They don't look back and they don't blink at the sacrifices they must make, because some sacrifices are necessary, some sacrifices we have to live with.
He lost everything, all his friends were dead or gone, he was alone in the world but he still fought because he couldn't lose anything else even if he didn't know what it was yet. He couldn't stop, he tried, but he couldn't stop.
The dark king fell, with a sword sticking out of his heart, and he died. The kingdom rejoiced, and then they forgot again and history repeated itself.
The hero was lost, because he didn't forget, and he was supposed to. The goddesses came to him and told him that he had to forget, because if he didn't forget then something terrible would happen, but he couldn't forget, he tried so many times, but he was so bitter and lost and cold that he couldn't bring himself to lose anything more.
And every time he looked in a mirror he flinched, because he couldn't remember what his face was supposed to look like. So he remembered, and he suffered, and then one day he left his kingdom and his home and travelled far beyond the borders of his own world.
He didn't look back.
"I don't know if he ever returned." Link said softly looking at each of the pirates in turn, his voice now somber and his body still. The fire had burned low and the embers glowed softly, dying amidst the ashes, being smothered to death.
"Some believe that he did, but that they could no longer recognize him and he could no longer recognize them, they had changed too much." He fell silent and looked Tetra in the eye, the flames no longer dancing inside their depths.
"Do you believe he ever forgot?" She asked suddenly not sure why that question had emerged but asking it all the same.
"No, I believe that he pretends, and that sometimes he even manages to convince himself that he's forgotten everything. But some things, some things I don't believe you can ever truly forget. Princess."
Sometimes she felt as if her nightmares were consuming her, and that in her sleepless nights she remembered a world that she shouldn't, the world from his stories, the stories she had forced from his lips. Yes, sometimes she did believe that he was the son of a sorceress, no not a sorceress more than that; sometimes she believed he was the son of the goddesses.
In her nightmares she saw the world in flame, the charred black earth beneath her feet, and there is no ocean no body of water at all. Only the land and the flame and the death all around her. She remembered screaming, screaming a name, looking back and seeing him, that same boy with those tortured blue eyes staring after her his hand reaching out and the world burning around him.
She saw him then again, and though he looks the same she knows that he has changed, he is upon the high seas, sailing upon his own dragon vessel his blonde hair whipping behind him and the silver baton in his left hand. She saw herself and all the world stretching before her, him in the midst of it all, always with those solemn blue eyes that defied time and death.
It wasn't superstition, and she found herself wishing that she could port in a city, a city with a library because she knew that if she looked hard enough she'd find her answer in the print. He'd be there in the ancient pages, looking out at her through his blue eyes with his childish smile. Or perhaps she'd see his other face…
It was all nonsense.
Author's Note: I think this might technically be an AU one-shot just based on characterization. Anyway reviews would be great and much appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Legend of Zelda