AN: Hola friends, and welcome to Shattered Times! This is my first LOZ fanfic, but not to worry, I've been writing for much longer than I have been thinking about the fanfic idea (by a few years), so I'm pretty sure my story-weaving is up to par. For a good time-setting, this story takes place 14 years after the events of Ocarina of Time, so vague spoilers if you haven't played the game...? I won't diverge anywhere off the OoT plot, it's just this story's events that I'm actually going to screw with. So, enjoy!
In later chapters e.t.c - comments+constructive criticism/reviews welcome! Flames+ Rants = no thanks.
Rated T for some language, violence, and the like.
I don't own the Legend of Zelda or any of it's characters/storylines. That's owned by Nintendo.
Prologue
The tavern nestled in the small mountain village was busy - busy enough, at least. Horses were tied up at the front; huddling together in the snow, snowflakes gently falling around them, the wind occasionally blowing up a flurry into the horses. The perfect night for a quiet tavern outing for the villagers, a haven for travelers braving the mountainous terrain outside of the village.
It was late, yet the crowd inside wasn't leaving yet. The crackle of the fire in the stone fireplace and the lanterns hanging from the ceiling kept the mood ambient; with the murmur of voices and clinking of mugs and plates adding the comfort.
Two men were sitting at the bar, one lonely bartender in front of them, pouring each of them a drink. The men were traders – it was quite obvious, in fact – long, heavy cloaks, and a rugged look upon both of them. One of them shifted in his chair, and gave his companion a quick glance.
"D'you know if this bastardly weather 'ill ever stop?" he grumbled, pulling his glass of ale toward him. His young friend shrugged as he took a long draw from his glass, before slamming it back down on the worn bar.
"Hard to tell mate." The man turned in his seat to look out the window opposite of the two, near the door. "Can't see a thing out there." The other man grunted.
"Hyrule is our last destination." He let out a long sigh. "We better get there soon, or no money for me."
Just as he spoke, they both heard the door to the tavern creak open, and shut with a slam. Heavy footsteps sounded from behind them, and a cloaked figure sat next to the two on a bar stool shortly after. The figure's face was covered under the heavy, black hood, yet his hands came from under the thick cloak.
"Anythin' I can get 'ou, sir?" the bartender leaned heavily on the counter toward the stranger, his thick accent slurred and abrupt.
"Just a water, please." The man's (the traders knew it was a man now) voice was warm, yet slightly raspy from obvious disuse. The bartender looked at the man for a few seconds, then went to do his duty as bartender.
There was a tense silence at the bar, the two traders watching this man, while said man simply took off his worn gloves, setting them on the counter before shifting in his seat, letting out a soft sigh.
"Come 'ere often?" The elder trader leaned toward the man, giving him a piercing stare. The stranger took a moment to respond.
"…No. I'm traveling." The man turned to look at the two traders. The old trader could see bright, sharp as flint blue eyes from beneath the cloak. Just as the trader was about to speak, the bartender placed a glass of water in front of the stranger. The stranger drew his cloak down from his head, smiling slightly. "Thank you." The bartender grunted a reply, before exiting the bar, likely going to the kitchen.
The traders looked curiously at the stranger. He was surprisingly young, face youthful and handsome, with chiseled features and a sharp jawline. Bright, blond hair fell along his features, tied into a small ponytail at the base of his neck. His eyes seemed older, wise, almost. The man's most striking feature, the traders both thought, was the long scar from his right eyebrow down to his cheek. The younger trader slowly cleared his throat, before speaking.
"Um… so…" the trader's voice quickly faded as the stranger moved his cloak. He could see the hilt of a sword at his right hip. The stranger looked at him, eyebrows furrowed.
"You said something?" There was a pause, and the trader fumbled for words under the stranger's intense gaze.
"Ah…I-um-"
"Are you goin' to Hyrule, young one?" the older trader grumbled, cutting into his companion panicked mumbling. "The Winter Festival is nearly upon us." The stranger's eyes flashed, with something like a distant pain.
"…I was thinking about it." The trader chuckled, bringing his glass to his lips.
"Not a thing to miss. Castletown will be a riot; the parade, the Princess Zelda…" the younger trader couldn't help but sigh slightly at the princess's name. The stranger's eyes flickered to the trader, with something like disdain in his eyes.
The elder trader seemed to notice this expression, and cleared his throat loudly in the direction of his companion. The young trader seemed to realize what had escaped his lips, and quickly sat up straighter. The stranger didn't seem to notice this movement, as he was looking away, his hands clasped on the bar. The elder couldn't help but notice the odd symbol on the man's left hand. A triangle, slightly faded. The elder was smart enough not to bring up the marking on the man's hand. Could be a brand, or tattoo.
There was another terse silence, before the stranger slowly stood, putting his gloves back on, covering that intriguing symbol on his hand. The bartender had already returned, and took the man's glass away.
"Do you take Rupees?" the stranger asked, drawing a pouch out from under his cloak. The bartender nodded slightly, before grunting,
"Three Rupees." The stranger gave him the money, putting the pouch away and drawing his hood over his head. Before he began walking away, the elder trader pushed the idea of the Winter Carnival a little more.
"Young man, did you know there is a ceremony this Winter Festival?" the stranger said nothing, so the trader persisted. "Supposedly there is a tribute, to the legend of the Hero that saved Hyrule. The Princess is leading the processions; it's quite a sight. The festivities afterward, everything." The stranger whipped around at the statement, and the trader could tell that his face was flushed; even under the heavy hood.
"Really?" his voice was calm, yet there was an odd hint of pride. "That's quite exciting." There was another pause, and the man turned. "I must go, I'm sorry."
The stranger quickly left, but it did nothing to disturb the atmosphere. The two traders were silent, before the young trader spoke up quietly.
"Who do you think that was?" The old trader smiled slightly, grasping his glass of ale.
"A man with honor."
He took a swig of his drink as there was the whinny of a horse from outside.
It was after midnight in the country of Hyrule, the time where no one was stirring nor awake. Castletown was quiet and peaceful, the snow sparkling off the light of the moon. The scenery looked like something out of a storybook, the single, small figure slowly walking down the road adding to the fantasy of the setting.
This figure was walking very slowly, almost as if they were walking too fast, they would be caught by some alert townsperson. Their destination appeared to be the Temple of Time; the massive, solemn building that stood protectively over the town. Walking past those odd Sheikah Stones, walking up the stone steps, and through the massive entrance.
There was no one inside, as expected, so the echoing steps of the person were deafening, the sounds ricocheting of the high arches of the ceiling. The figure stopped as they reached the end of the temple – a massive stone wall, with a symbol like the sun engraved upon it. Looking up at the massive wall, the person knelt, and placed a single rose before it. The silence was long and still, a certain peacefulness upon the atmosphere. Then, quietly, the person began to whisper small prayers, small sayings, hands clasped on their lap as they spoke. The whispers went on for minutes, where to the person, it felt like hours. After they ended, there was a small sigh that escaped the person's lips. Then one word.
"Please."
Nothing happened. The figure seemed to wilt, ever so slightly, as if they were expecting something to happen after they spoke. They had been trying for millennia, it felt like. Every winter.
Their favorite season.
The person - she - slowly stood, leaving the rose in its place as they turned around to walk down the small steps from the pedestal.
As her foot touched the last step, the ground trembled.
They paused and stood, not daring to move.
There was a stronger shake.
Then, there was a low, grumbling sound, eerie and sinister.
A laugh.
It was the type of laugh that sent chills down the woman's back. She whipped around, just as she saw the rose crumble into black dust. A small gasp escaped her lips, as the ground trembled again.
Then there was an odd crunching sound, like wood splintering or brittle snow. The stone wall with the sun, was cracking. The young woman scrambled to go down the last step, only falling, landing heavily on her back.
A black mist seeped from the cracks in the wall, forming a muddled cloud where the rose lay. It formed an incomprehensible shape, growing taller and taller till stopping, still incredibly tall. There was another one of the eerie laughs, then tiny pinpricks formed near the top of the cloud. Eyes. Red eyes.
She stayed on her back, silent, staring up in horror as a disturbing, pure white slit of a smile formed. Another laugh.
She now chose to scream, the sound tearing at her throat and echoing through the cold temple, enveloped by darkness.
So, what's the verdict of the prologue? Mildly interesting? Good? "Not my cup of tea"? Let me know!