Cover art by PiAddict. Used with permission. Go to my profile to find a link to his DeviantArt page.
The full list of everyone who helped me better this story is too extensive to give here. I will be sure to credit everyone individually at the end. For now: thank you very much, anyone who helped.
Prologue
Zelda swatted at the snooze button on her blaring alarm clock and collapsed back into her bed. The dreams were getting worse.
Vague premonitions had haunted her sleep for as far back as she remembered, but of late they had increased in intensity. It had gotten to the point where she could hardly close her eyes without seeing half-starved Hylians crawling through a burning wasteland, or some frightening visage of an unknown god, glaring down from the starless heavens.
Lullabies did not help. Sleeping pills did not help. Perhaps the ancient princesses had some magical ability to deal with such conditions, but the only thing keeping Zelda sane was the boy at the end of the dreams, standing at the center of an encroaching darkness, sword pointed heavenward. There was a special light within him, though she felt it, rather than seeing it. It pierced invisibly through the clouds, illuminating her soul with hope.
Except in some dreams, the Hero did not appear.
Her alarm came to life once more, and the princess grudgingly turned it off and crawled out from under her sweat-drenched sheets. If it were only a month later, she could have opened a window and refreshed herself with the cool morning air. But this was mid-August, and even at six-thirty, the outside temperature would already be tiringly hot.
She contented herself by glancing at the posters (and the occasional portrait) that lined her walls. She had long been in love with the ancient legends of the Hero of Hyrule, ever since her mother had first told her of the Imprisoning War. Her collection of drawings of the Hero had grown quickly. The details varied from artist to artist, just as the tale changed in the telling. Sometimes he was a blond-haired youth with a level head and a closed mouth. Other times he was a dashing adventurer with piercing green eyes, a penchant for trouble, and a passion for irresponsible pyrotechnics. But what always shone through was a certain purpose, a singleness of thought, a refusal to let Hyrule submit to the forces of darkness.
And now he had returned. At least, that was what she hoped the dreams meant, if they meant anything at all. The alternatives did not bear thinking about.
She proceeded with the stretching exercises Nabooru had taught her, and as her muscles limbered she felt some of the stress draining from her. She would need a clear mind for the task ahead.
She had always hated the sleek blue limousine that ferried her everywhere from school, to her play dates, and now to the orphanage. She supposed it was possible that she had once enjoyed bouncing upon the leather seats or playing with the sleek array of buttons that lined the front of the passenger cabin. It was possible that she had once been taken in by the absolute luxury of it, back before she was old enough to truly remember such things. But as far as she knew, it had always felt like the prisons of olden times, hidden beneath the castle. It blocked nearly all signs of the outside world. The tinted windows hid the sunlight, and the muted interior blocked even the soft rumble of the engine. It was nearly enough to make her suffocate.
She tried to find alternate means of travel when she could, but they only went so far. Riding her bike to school in midwinter was hardly an option, and her guardian Nabooru would never allow her to simply go running through downtown Castle Town.
Said guardian currently sat across from her, scowling at a notebook. Even after nine years, Zelda still sometimes found herself intimidated by the intensity of the Gerudo. Perhaps it was the fire-red plume of hair, gathered together in a luscious ponytail that fell all the way to her lower back. Perhaps it was the gem set upon her forehead, that sometimes caught the sunlight and seemed to add an other-worldly gleam to her dark brown eyes. Much of it probably had to do with the tales her mother had told her, before Nabooru had entered her life.
They were stories from ancient history, of great wars, of reconstruction, of love and sorrow and hope. But no matter the setting, no matter the style, the Gerudo were there, looting and burning. Most fearsome of all was Ganondorf Dragmire, the eternal king who, if tales could be believed, had driven Hyrule to ruin countless times throughout history. The Gerudo were always the villains, the soulless fiends.
Many of their number had since settled in among the Hylians, but they remained distrusted, even a century after the integration began. Even half a millenium since the last threat from the desert. Zelda wondered if she would have shared this bigoted fear, had her Gerudo guardian not saved her from a fiery death.
The snap of Nabooru flipping shut her notebook drew Zelda from her reverie. The Gerudo cast it down beside her and crossed her arms with a huff. Much of the dark intensity had melted from her face, but her brow still held a deep furrow.
"This is the seventh one, Zelda," she said. "I didn't even know Castle Town had this many orphanages."
"We'll go to as many as it takes," Zelda responded with a shrug. "He will turn up, somewhere." She gazed out the tinted window to hide whatever uncertainty her face was showing. When she had begun this project, she had expected to visit two, maybe three orphanages at most. She was fated to meet him, after all, wasn't she? But every passing week, every new failure screamed that this was hopeless, that she was a fool for believing the ancient texts and the odd dreams.
"And if that fails? If we don't find this hero of yours at any orphanage in the city? Will you search the entire country?"
"If I must." She turned to meet Nabooru's level stare, for as much as she doubted this quest, she knew that she had spoken the truth. She would never give up. Hyrule was facing a new threat, and its hero would rise once again to defend it. She had to believe it, she just had to. If the dreams were not prophetic, then they might point to insanity, and that thought was too terrifying even to consider.
Nabooru sighed and picked up her notebook again. Zelda couldn't blame her skepticism; Zelda's actions would certainly seem foolish to one who had not had the dreams herself, who had not seen the fire spreading across the land, consuming all. But if her father had taught her anything, it was that one does not make history simply by doing what is expected of her.
The buzzing of her cellphone served as a nice distraction from her worries about the plan. She eagerly snatched it from the brown leather purse by her side.
"hey, wan2 get br8kfast? brother found sweet pancake place"
Zelda sighed. She had told Desiree her plans for that morning just yesterday. Twice even. That girl could probably manage to forget something even if you tattooed it on her arm. Zelda giggled to herself as she composed her response.
"I'm visiting another orphanage today, remember? :)"
The reply came back just seconds later:
"thats wat 10 now zel? u & ur orphans ;)"
Zelda sighed. Of course, she hadn't told anyone but Nabooru about her quest to find the Hero. As far as everyone else knew, she was trying to get involved in the community and make a few poor children's days a bit brighter. She just wished they had tried to understand. The best of her friends thought it a cute diversion. Most thought she was doing something weird. No one would ever say that to her face of course, but she heard the whispers all the same. It couldn't be helped, she supposed. You didn't get to both be a princess and fit in with everyone.
She hurriedly typed up a half-hearted response about dinner, then put her phone away as the limousine pulled to a stop.
"We're here!" Zelda announced to no one in particular.
"You are planning on changing before you get out, yes?" Nabooru cut in as Zelda reached for the door.
Zelda sighed. She was wearing a pair of faded pink shorts and a pale blue baby tee that had the lightest fabric she could find. In short, it was the perfect attire for the blistering August heat. She knew better, of course, but she had to protest. It was a matter of principle.
"Really?" she pleaded in the best whine she could muster.
"The children here have been told that they shall see a princess, and a princess is what they shall see." Her voice was dry, bored even, but Zelda thought she saw the Gerudo almost crack a smile.
"But it's so hot," she groused as she began pulling off her clothes. The dress could have easily fit over the thin garments, but this was one princess who wasn't wearing any more layers than she absolutely had to.
"Besides, what if someone tries to kidnap me?" she continued as she retrieved a spare royal dress that hung in a hidden side compartment. "I can't outrun anyone in a dress."
"Zelda, if you fail to outrun a dead person, then I have abysmally failed you in your training." Nabooru grinned and ran a finger along the ceremonial scimitar that was always at her side. Of course, Zelda did not believe for a second that that was the only weapon her guardian carried. The scimitar was just what she wanted everyone paying attention to.
Zelda just rolled her eyes and turned to let Nabooru lace up her back. Changing clothes in a vehicle was not terribly pleasant, but it was a skill she had mastered long ago. She would do anything to get away with just five fewer minutes of wearing a dress, or whatever other manner of traditional fanciness her father sought to impose upon her.
But of course, she'd run right into this one herself. Six weeks in a row of putting on a dress, and here she was pressing toward number seven. Maybe she really was growing up. Maybe next time she'd even come out to the limousine in her finest dress and let Nabooru try to figure out what was wrong.
Fully attired once more, she pressed the button that signaled the chauffeur and waited for him to open her door. Because even though they were parked in the back, well off the road, she had to make a proper exit just in case someone, somewhere happened to be watching.
When the man opened the door, she immediately envied his sunglasses. She blinked her eyes against the sudden onslaught of light before stepping out into the late summer heat.
Even as she began her approach, the rickety screen door on the back of the building creaked open and a tall man whom Zelda took to be the manager sauntered out. In spite of the heat, he wore a long-sleeved shirt buttoned all the way to the top and adorned with a simple green tie. His bright smile threatened to outdo the sun, but then he bowed low, presenting her with his perfectly cut brown hair.
"You honor us with your visit, Your Highness."
"It will be a pleasure," Zelda responded with the well-rehearsed words as the man came out of his bow. "Thank you for making time for me, Mr. …?"
"Chad Timmons, if it please Your Highness," the man said, leading them the rest of the way to the building. "I own the place, keep it running as well as I can, but it's really that staff that does most of the work. You'll meet Rebecca this morning. Nice girl, very diligent." He grabbed the door and held it open.
Zelda passed through into a large kitchen where a pair of cooks bustled about. It was cleaner and better equipped than many she had seen in the past few weeks, but it still paled in comparison to that of the Lanayru Orphanage at the heart of Castle Town. The breakfast feast they had pulled off, complete with custom omelettes and pancakes the size of dinner plates, had made even Zelda slightly jealous.
Mr. Timmons led her through the bustling team of cooks and into the dining room beyond, where a handful of young children greeted her with a cheerful "Good morning, Your Highness."
Zelda put on her best smile and turned to face the adorable welcoming party. Four boys and two girls stood in a perfect line, all bowed at the waist so far they were nearly parallel to the floor. Behind them stood a young black-haired woman whose bow seemed even deeper, if that were possible. None were hero material.
"Up, up," Zelda laughed. "You can't very well show me how to serve food if you're all looking at the ground."
Mr. Timmons sent the woman off to rouse the other orphans while Zelda got set up. A curly-haired boy with shining brown eyes eagerly guided her through their daily process of washing their hands and getting the food ready. She would be responsible for the apple slices, it turned out.
"They get five," the boy, named Brandon, emphasized.
As she waited for the rest of the orphans to arrive, Zelda did her best to prepare herself for the line-up. That's how she had come to think of these weekly breakfasts. Except in most line-ups, you had actually seen the person you were looking for before. All she had to go on were fleeting dreams and fragments of history which agreed on nothing but his clothing. And her Hero was unlikely to be wearing a green tunic and tall leather boots in an orphanage, or anywhere else for that matter. Where would he even find a tunic?
His hair could be blond, or maybe it was brown, or something in between. He could be right or left handed, maybe blue eyes, maybe green, and he was probably not tall. That was really all she had to go on. But it would be enough. It had to be enough. She was Princess Zelda of Hyrule. If she couldn't pick the Hero out of a line-up... well that would just be stupid. The Princess always knew the Hero. Surely if all the stories agreed on something, it had to be true.
She was still trying to convince herself of this when the main dining room door swung open, and in marched the parade of orphans. The excited whispers that ran throughout the line were much the same as those that had greeted her elsewhere. Most of the children said "Good morning, Your Highness," as they came by with their trays. Some just stared at their feet and mumbled. Each one she gave five apple slices, with Brandon standing right by her side to remind her in case she got confused.
The children's faces did not take long to start blurring together in her mind. Some had rosy cheeks and strawberry hair, others a pale complexion, some dark, some with freckles, and even one she suspected might be a Gerudo. She tried to look at each as intently as possible without staring, but she could not help thinking that one looked much the same as another. And there were certainly none with... with the presence she had felt in the dream.
Besides that, she saw no one older than ten. The Hero was supposed to be near her age. She had only seen one orphan as old as fifteen on her little tour, and that had been a girl. Most were adopted well before then. But he couldn't have been adopted. Not yet. He had to be alone before he began his quest. That was just how it worked.
When all had been served, she tried not to let her disappointment show and she and six other servers grabbed food for themselves. There was something that just felt right about this one. But it was a loss, once more. Though Nabooru was far too refined to ever say "I told you so," she knew her guardian was thinking it all the same.
She managed to pull off the rest of the visit with her typical good nature, but it was a struggle. As she read to them from Hyrule Historia of the Imprisoning War, a crimson-haired girl snuggled up beside her, she couldn't help but picture the boys around her trying to wear the Hero's tunic, to wield the Master Sword. They died, every one, before the quest even began. She turned her despair into bitter overtones that served to highlight the darker aspects of the story.
This quest was wearing on her. She did not know how much failure she could handle. How many more orphanages would it take to break her? If the goddesses were good, she would not find out.
At last the visit came to an end. She bid the beaming children farewell and returned to her limousine.
"Ugh, I need coffee," Zelda moaned as the vehicle pulled away from the orphanage.
"Zelda, there are people all over the country who get up at six-thirty without coffee and do just fine."
"Oh, I'm sure there are," Zelda replied, slipping out of her dress, "But I'm just a frail princess. It's hazardous to be up any earlier than 7:00."
"Frail indeed? I feel like I should be recording this. For the next time you decided to dart out into the middle of heavy traffic."
"Nabooru, that was three years ago!"
Nabooru just rolled her eyes and pressed a button on the side.
"James, find a decent coffee shop. We're taking a detour."
Zelda grinned. She had only been allowed to drink coffee for a year now, and already she couldn't imagine how she ever got up without it. She hadn't had time that morning, and the headache was rather annoying.
She barely had time to change back into her summer attire when they stopped, and at her signal James opened the door.
"Cuccos and Coffee, huh?" she said, reading the letters lining the top of the building.
"A sandwich shop, Your Highness, though I am told they have rather exquisite coffee as well," James offered.
Zelda shrugged. At this point, she might just settle for caffeinated water. She thanked the chauffeur and entered. The blast of the air conditioning covered her body with chills, and suddenly she wished she had selected clothing with a little more fabric. Even so, it wasn't too uncomfortable, and by the time she had a steaming hot cup of coffee in her hands it would be quite pleasant.
She placed her order and sat down at a table far from the window as she waited for it to arrive. Dressed like a typical teenager, few people would stop to recognize her as Hyrule's princess. Still, there was no point in taking chances by letting every random passerby see her. She idly wondered if normal people ever had to think about such things.
Nabooru slid in opposite her. She did not have her notebook. The full force of her gaze bore down upon Zelda. It was all she could do not to squirm.
"How much longer will this go on?" Nabooru's quiet tone did not make her words any less menacing. "This is a foolish dream, Zelda. It is a waste of your time, and every passing week adds more to the disappointment you will feel when you realize this."
"You know the histories as well as I do," Zelda shot back. "The women of this family have the power of prophecy. I know what I dreamed."
"Yes, I know the histories. The line of Hylia may have prophesied once, but the old magics are gone. You are a princess, and you have a duty."
"I am doing that duty."
"You are chasing a baseless wish." Nabooru's face was so close to hers that she could see her dilated pupils, feel the air coming from her nostrils. "You think you are special, princess? You are an accident, a random mixing of your parents' genetic code. You think you have some greater purpose? Some divine mission? You think yourself so great that the Goddess would trust you and you alone with the fate of Her children? You think-"
Suddenly, she cut off and whipped her head to the side. Zelda followed her gaze until her eyes landed on a young waiter in the green uniform of Cuccos and Coffee, standing beside their table.
"Um, I'm sorry to interrupt, miss, but your coffee is ready."
Zelda's hand trembled as she reached up to accept the cup. A crop of unkempt blond hair fell about his ears, and he stared down at her with the widest, purest blue eyes she had seen but once before.
Her hand grasped the cup, but his did not let go.
"Are you okay? You don't look too well. I think the manager has some aspirin, if..."
"I feel absolutely wonderful," Zelda said, not taking her eyes from his. His arm slowly retracted.
"If you say so then," he said and returned to work.
"Zelda?" Nabooru prompted. "What was that?"
Zelda turned to her and grinned.
"I've found him."
A/N:
A note on characters: As you may have noticed, this work contains OCs. There are simply too many characters that it would be awfully contrived to do this otherwise. One or two will even play major roles in the plot. You will still get your fix of the classic characters, though, I can promise you that.
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