Chapter 1: The Life Debt

Disclaimer: Hello, I do not own Zelda.

Author's Note: The title is in reference to one of the four great classical novels of Chinese culture, pilgrimage and enlightenment. The term Riskbreaker is from the PSOne classic, Vagrant Story, a lovely RPG that also contained one of the most convoluted stories and UI ever to be invented by man. You will see references to Futurama and the Simpsons if you read it correctly. Enjoy.

Link looked down at his hands warily, for he knew in great detail what damage they must have suffered in that last fight. Carefully he unrolled the ravaged bandages that swept its serpentine path up his left arm. Indeed, the injuries were great - deep were the cuts that wounded his flesh and ego. He smirked the mirthless sneer: it was not such a great idea trying out sword techniques that were unpracticed. But, of course, such were the lessons of life - nothing risked, nothing gained, nothing lost. That was the most terrifying thing, he thought to himself.

It had been nearly three months since he and his rag-tag band of misfits set out from the castle. Their original purpose had been to quell a band of insurgents stirring up trouble on the borders of Loki, just a few days west of Hyrule. But each week they were on the road, each battle and each drop of blood shed seemed only to bring them further turmoil. Every would-be ending presented an even larger threat to the throne of Hyrule; indeed, were it comparable to some tangible life form, Link might've considered to call it the "lizard's" way - cut off a limb if you can. But, alas, poor bard, it was the unfortunate life for a Riskbreaker - the obscure and often dangerous brotherhood that Link had signed away his life in blood. It was not for the temptations of adventure and the siren call of chaos that Link had so gladly entered this omnious command. And as simple and, perhaps even trivial as it may seem for the Hero of Time, he had sworn to its allegience only because he was able to swear his loyalty to her throne. In front of her throne, in front of her, in front of such a one that could command his very soul and body - in front of the ultimate siren.

It did not seem enough at times, to marry her and devote her existence above his. That much was simple. Link was a man of loyalty - not quite so different from the officers under his own command. But even their own allegiance was conditional. No, to his wife he was obligated by a higher power: a searing, heart-wrenching abandonment of faith and devotion. That these words we have chosen to describe but an iota of his love to her are themselves pitifully inept. For he was soulbound and such energies spent to properly derive an equation explaining the two of them could not exist in this lifetime.

He turned the palms of his hands upwards, examining the damage once more. They were skilled, to be sure: masterful in the art of war, graceful in the art of craftsmanship, caring as only a true lover's touch could express. But despite all the practice of his years, Link strove only to redefine these hands - for he never thought they were enough to serve Zelda adequately. Sometimes they would make mistakes, sometimes they would tic one way when they should have gone the other. Yes, he punished them severely, but only because he felt such apathy would drive him to become stronger in her eyes. These hands were not his own.

"'Oy, Linky-boy, there be enough time for admiring your dead fans later. 'Git ya arse in gear - the boys are heading to the rallying point, yea?"

That was Vissius Flightknife, the deadliest crack shot with the gun-powder rifle outside of Zelda - the weapon having only been invented that previous winter. He was a chaotic one, that Vissius, and perhaps were it not for his wife, Link might have lived a life akin to Flightknife's - the lonely one that called no man master and no place home.

When they both finally arrived at camp, it was clear that Link had once again advanced too far into the field during that last fight. The insurgents were not strategic fighters, they were not even blessed with finesse or refined by skill. But they came in numbers and as the Riskbreaker squadron were present as only five men, the battle was a much heated one. And yet, perhaps during the foray, Link realized what a great danger they finally faced and he could not stand that he should fail not only his brothers, but his queen in one fell swoop. That was why he charged: the burden must be his if it is any sort of a burden to exist.

In this we see the true nature of the hero. People did not depend on his bravery nearly as much as he depended on them to present him with chances to prove his worth. Indeed, how else could he test the mettle of his hands and skills if not through the fires stoked by the world's endless problems? Yes, thought Link as he met up with the rest of his group, he could not survive - much less find reason in his existence - were it not for his unflinching willingness to help out his brothers, his country and his queen. He was not so much a slave to destiny as he was a servant of life.

"You clowns want to live forever?" he finally asked, night having nearly descended upon them, "Nap time is over. We're heading back with the dusk set."

To this, the raucous bunch groaned loudly:

"He ain't human, he ain't."

"My feet, she needs rest, no?"

"Let's mutiny!"

"'Oy, I should've buried you back there, boy-o."

"I lost the directions back to Hyrule, milord."

"Curious, sirrah, which way is east?"

"A bad case of explosive amnesia, I'm afraid. Yes, quite incapacitated at the moment, commander."

"I've lost my legs in the war, good sir."

Truly, this was torment if it were anything else, not only because it lasted nearly the week and a half it took to journey home, but also because Link too was starting to join in. By the end of the journey, a body could be hardly blamed for suspecting that these were only madmen dressed in warriors' costumes. We may say this because joining the ranks of the Riskbreakers was little less than tantamount to insanity and, apparently, the journey had robbed the men of what was left of their minds.

"Can't wait to 'git back to yer chicky, can ya, young'un?"

Link turned to see Vissius bringing his horse to a trot next to Epona. He stared at the man wearily before responding with a simple nod. Even that minute action seemed to cause his body to ache.

"Ya haven't been sleeping agin', have ya?" the other man asked, shaking his head slightly, "What manner of fevered dreams have kept ya awake, gunny?"

Our hero stared off into the horizon, where glorious Hyrule had started to show its peaks.

"I can't bring myself to do it, friend. Did you ever have that feeling?"

"Can't say that I have, y'know? We all been sinnin' a little bit too much to feel queasy 'bout goin' to bed wit' a heavy soul, yea?"

Link couldn't help but smirk at that: "Truly, there are only murderers in this group."

"Aye, that be the well spoken. Well have at it, man, what be the problem then?"

"Y'know, before I was with Zelda, I could never bring myself to sleeping with the night fall. I was always so afraid of those dark hours before the light of the next morning. I don't much like the future, Vissius, there are far too many uncertainties. I've always been the old soul, a nostalgic monster that clung to every sentimental piece of drivel I could - because they were the gateways to those simpler days. I never quite understood why people were not more content with what they have as opposed to what they could have. Perhaps, it is because everybody else who lives can only struggle through today in hopes that tomorrow would bring something better. It is such a foolish paradox. I tell you, if I ever meet the person who invented the future, I think I would kill them."

"And, then, when I first started courting her, I would sometimes sneak her out of the castle to Lake Hyrule. Some nights, we would just lay there and I would try to find her a star. Sometimes we would talk until the break of day. After a while, I started realizing how she made such miserable nights that much more able to bear. It hit me all at once: those nights she would guide me towards the next day were painless, some nights I even was able to fall asleep easily next to her. It was cosmic, Vissius: how tragically beautiful this woman had been able to hold my hands and transform those horrible hours before daybreak into an existence worth closing my eyes and enjoying. If not for anything else, I would cherish her forever because she had given me such a gift."

Link turned tiredly to his companion as the Riskbreakers came ever closer to home: "I haven't slept but one or two hours here and there for the last three months, old friend. Some nights I would just wake up for no apparent reason and that would be the end of whatever peace I had that night. I would dearly like to sleep away these next few nights in the angel's wake."

Vissius shook his head ruefully, "Well, that was a might pretty speech, Linky-boy. But I ask you, in all seriousness, why ya would ever think a monster like me'self could understand such pretty boy poetry like that. Ain't that right, gentlemen? Me thinks Link is ill suited for his command in such a state and I propose that we buy him a courtier's dress that he may better write his verse."

At this, the others roared their agreement:

"I t'ink he would lookst most comely in lavender, boys!"

"Aye, a penny for yer services, good wench."

"Did we not see his latest book in the castle's library, gentlemen? It was entitled: "I Was Once a Man."

"It was burned, good sir, because it were offensive to the women folk who read it - they did not want their secrets revealed."

"I picked you some posies, commander."

"My memory isn't what it's supposed to be, sirs, but I believe that book destroyed the entire castle."

Link dragged his feet tiredly into the castle's grand hall and with a finality that robbed him of the rest of his resolve, plopped himself unceremoniously into an available seat. He had not the time nor patience to drop off his gear with the rest of the group at the barracks. Presently, one of the doormen received Link.

"Milord, shall I inform the lady that you await her?"

The hero kicked back his feet and hugged his sword to his body, his head lulling back in that way that might remind the readers of a dead marionette away from its master's strings.

"Where is she now, Flint?"

"The queen is currently meeting with the heads of State, milord. They are discussing the movement of troops amassing outside of Lordaeron."

At this Link's browed perked up: "Interesting. No, wait, the other word...'tedious.' No, Flint, no need to inform her, I will wait here until the council absolves. Tell me, where is my daughter? I did not see Avalon in the courtyard as I came in."

He was a sly one this Flint. He had served the House of Harkinian for nearly all his life and it took nearly all that experience to prevent him from outright laughing. Instead, only a slight smirk surfaced as his eyes drew themselves to the object behind the great lord of the manor. Link, of course, noticed this immediately:

"What-"

Before he could finish, Link was knocked out of his chair in a maelstrom of blonde curls and daisy crowns.

"Papa, why'd it take you so long to get me a present?"

Link was still silent on the ground, prostrate in that position most unbecoming of the renowned hero, his eyes closed and lips grim. He was a little bit better at playing this game than Flint. Of course, the older man was not going to yield so easily:

"Princess, I believe you have knocked your father unconscious. Might I suggest getting in a kick or two to celebrate?"

Avalon pursed her lips in confusion, but before she could reconsider that comment, her father had risen to the entirety of his six foot frame, slinging her over his shoulders. He pointed accusingly at Flint:

"Have at you, old man! I knew you were always the scheming type, but this slight will not stand. I challenge you to a race around the world. The winner will have the grand prize I brought back, the loser will drink naught but from the chalice of bitter defeat. Also, there will be some humiliation involved. Also, Avalon has volunteered to take my place."

The girl laughed even as she pounded her father's back uselessly: "Papa, I can't race Flint, my legs don't know how to run as fast as his."

"Hah!" Link barked contemptuously, "Who needs legs, dear heart, when you can fly?"

If our hero could see the sudden confusion in his daughter's violet eyes, he might have suffered a broken heart from the innocence of it all.

"Papa, I don't know how to fly yet!"

"Indeed?" Link asked her as he brought the girl down to his eye level, "Well what the bloody well has your mother been teaching you since I've been gone?"

Avalon clapped her hands together wondrously as she practically split with a wide grin: "I can do Magic Missile, papa. Want I should show you?"

"No!" was the wide exclamation of the grand hall, as nearly 20 servants who had witnessed the moment realized what the little girl had just said.

"Well," a surprised Link finally said, "Perhaps when we are not around Mama's expensive pottery, hmm? (And here his eyes, narrowed as he whispered in her ears) Maybe later tonight when the rest of the castle is asleep..."

Before the girl could acquiesce, Link had already swung her back onto his shoulders - this time, in the correct direction: "In the meanwhile, if you're mother was not responsible enough to swing her daughter precariously around the castle to show you the gift of flight, then it shall be up to my own recklessness once again. Off we go, princess, forwards always, towards the utter ruin that your mother ought show me when she finds out I did this!"

And although he had but little rest in the past months, the castle audience saw the young princess fly for nearly half an hour on the back of our hero. Occasionally, he would race up the stairs and jump from precipice to precipice, as elven grace and frivolity are want and capable of doing. For Link, it was but respite for the soul. For with the little wonder that was Avalon, the cosmic union of him and her, came also the dissolution of the day's troubles. Certainly those reasons to worry existed, possibly in some outer shell of reality, but to bring such gloom on an innocent so wonderfully created seemed to him horrible parenting. Truly, in that half hour of existence, the god-child Avalon carried her father more than he carried her.

Link turned a critical eye towards his left arm again, where some of the cuts had reopened. He grunted quietly as he rewrapped the serpentine bandage. He had worn a bandage on that arm now for nearly three years. The bandages on his hands had been there longer even that that. He wanted to feel clean for Zelda or at the very least, cover up the scars on his hands before he touched her. As he suspected, she cared very little for all of that. As she did after every battle, she would hold his hands and kiss them and pronounce to him that they were now clean.

Zelda curled closer into her husband, burying herself in the warmth of muscle and uncovered flesh as she ran a careless hand down his bandaged arms. She let a tendril of magical energy probe Link's mind and found that it was in the same place it had been ten minutes ago. Her hand wandered down and clasped his, disappearing into its depths. Suddenly she felt his thoughts wander towards her and a very brief flash of shame accompanied it. She smiled widely into his chest: it always worked.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling her smile, "I didn't mean to think about it again."

"It is fine, milord," she replied, moving upwards to nuzzle the sharp stubble at his cheek, "Will you tell me about it?"

He gave her hand a squeeze: "I just was thinking. Thinking about how long it will be before I can take these bandages off."

"Link, why do you do this to yourself? Please, milord, I would not wish that these hands must suffer for much longer."

"Sometimes I think it can only be this way, Zelda. I don't know why the goddesses blessed me with you and Ava. I don't know what their intentions are with me. Whether I am but a tool of fate or by some mad coincidence simply the most fortunate man of all, I feel sometimes I am unworthy of it. That a boy with a sword and a slingshot and a fistful of coins could dream of one day marrying a princess - it is a dream so fevered and half-baked I still cannot understand how it happened. Someday, Zelda, when I stand before our heavenly mothers, I pray I will have paid my debt to them in full, so as to be able to ask why I was given such providence."

As he held up his hands, Link felt her sink down and settle herself at the crook of his neck.

"All that I am depends on these pitiful things, Zelda. If I am to pay this most heavy of all debts, it will only be by these hands that I may do so. But they are yet too unwieldy, not strong enough, not fast enough, not hard enough. I think they are so pathetic at times. And that is why they must suffer: how else might they become worthy? What if one day, fate should have them put to the test? That you or Avalon might be taken away from me all too soon if these hands should fail? I will not suffer to owe any person such a debt, because such dealings often come with a terrible price. I cannot imagine even a fortunate life in which you do not exist. I love you so much, Zelda. Too much."

Zelda propped herself on his chest, her flowing mane covering both of their faces. Her lips danced ever so slightly over his before she chose her next words:

"Perhaps if you loved me so, Link, you would know that it makes me ill at ease the way you mistreat your hands," she drew up his left hand as she spoke, "They have proven their worth to me in every way that a woman could expect from her husband. They do not simply represent who you are, my love. I see so many wonderful things that they promise to hold for me: warmth, security, a boundless love so pure and deep I cannot fathom it. But each and every time you cut into them, Link, there is a little less room than the time before to hold such ideals. I worry that you still do not realize how much of me you hold in your hands and that the rougher you forge them, the less you have left to feel my presence."

She kissed him chastely once more.

"There is a spark of the divine in all of us, milord. It is freely given, because love is freely given. It is because our heavenly mothers love us so, that they breathed into us this life. It is not conditional, Link, we will do with it as we see fit. Live not your life in such oppression and worry that you might not pay back their gift, because it is also their wish that with this life, you might be able to appreciate all the other wondrous creations around you."

She traced his lips deeply with her own.

"There is a woman here that the Lady Nayru must have blessed also. She loves you as assuredly as the world does turn and will continue to do so long after the world does stop. If you do not believe now that your debt has been fulfilled, you will surely believe it after this night is over, my love."

She claimed his lips slowly as that final proclamation passed through to him.