Well I finally wrote this. I'm trying to update as consistently as possible, which is good for me because I really need to work on meeting deadlines. Maybe I should make a schedule for myself...

One weird thing about me, I have trouble working during the day time, so I write most of my stories late at night and in the early morning. I've reread this several times, so I hope there aren't any grammar mistakes, but please feel free to point them out if you notice any, since I want this story to be as well-written as possible. I'll stop talking now, enjoy.


A small, calloused hand on his forehead roused him from his sleep. Outside the window, the sun had just begun to creep up over the trees, chasing away the last traces of night. His eyes focused on the woman in front of him. Her hair, which was once a brilliant gold, was now dirtied by years of hard work and stress. Her gaunt, sun-blistered face and dull green eyes made her look a good deal older than she really was. Mostly, she simply looked tired, as though she had seen too many things that she wished not to.

Her thin lips stretched into a strained smile as her only child opened his eyes. "Good morning, Link. How was your sleep?" She asked. The boy himself was much the same as his mother. Dull, dirty blonde hair falling into his face over eyes that should have been bright blue, turned grey by the years of hardship. His smile, however, was a good deal more honest than his mother's. "I slept well enough mother. I'm feeling much better today." He answered.

The woman's hand lingered on his forehead for a moment longer before she allowed it to drop to her side, "Well, the fever you had yesterday seems to have gone down. Will you be alright to help in the gardens today?" She asked. Link nodded as he rose from the bed slowly, making sure his legs were steady beneath him. Link was small for his age, coming only to his mother's chin. He was entirely too thin and pale, despite his long hours spent working outside, and was prone to falling ill often. Seeing him on his feet, his mother nodded her satisfaction, "Breakfast is ready. After we eat, we'll get strait to work on the harvest. Market day is tomorrow so we must be ready to deliver our crops to the vendor." She informed him as she exited the room.

Link quickly changed out of his nightclothes, tugging on his woolen shirt and breeches, which were slightly tattered, but still plenty functional. He had grown out of his boots at the end of the previous year and he and his mother would be unable to afford a new pair until after the last harvest, at which point they would visit the village cobbler with their saved rupees.

The last thing he did before leaving his room was to gather up the small pile of spare strips of fabric and loosely bound his left hand, covering the three glittering triangles emblazoned on the back. The people of the village called it a curse. "A bad omen." They would whisper as he passed. "Nothing good ever comes of that mark. Only war and destruction."

His mother used to tell him otherwise. She would tell stories of the land beyond the Lost Woods. Of the rolling green hills of Hyrule Field and prosperous villages and bustling towns and of the grand castle where the royal family resided. Mostly, she told him of the temples that had where built in reverence to the goddesses. "But mother, the shaman and everyone else said that the goddesses have abandoned us. That my mark means that I am cursed to bring misfortune." He had said as a child. She shook her head, "Nay, my son. The mark you bear is the symbol of the goddesses' divine favor. The triforce is the ultimate symbol of power, created by the gods of old. You are destined for great things, my child." She said, embracing him. "Your father was a brave knight who fought for the king. He was struck down by a demon while defending you and I when you were still yet to be born. Perhaps someday you shall serve the royal family like your father."

Link shook himself from his thoughts; it would do not good to dwell on the past. It had been many years since his mother had faith in the goddesses' mercy. Link knew that his mother's fancies of him becoming a knight and her hope that the goddesses' would answer her prayers had finally lost their charm. The death of his father, however long ago it had been, had left a scar on her heart that would never heal and Link's own health had never improved as she had hoped. Instead, she had suffered the ridicule of the entire village, bearing it on her own shoulders to shield her young son.

He entered their small kitchen and sat down on the wooden bench of the table, opposite his mother where his bowl of porridge was already set. They ate and washed their dishes in silence before heading out to the gardens to begin the day's work.

The sun shown brightly, making it terribly hot and humid. It was nearly autumn and the weather always seemed to fluctuate at random, some days being cool and cloudy, and the next day being almost unbearably hot.
Both he and his mother picked up their large wicker baskets and garden tools and set about harvesting the ripe vegetables that served as their primary source of income.

They were several hours into their work and the sun had climbed high in the sky so it was beating down directly upon them, causing them both to sweat profusely. Link was struggling to uproot a particularly stubborn weed that had taken up residence with the onions when his vision blurred. He steadied himself on his hands and knees, his skin suddenly feeling cold and clammy. He blinked and forced his shaking hands to take hold of the thrice-blasted weed again, giving it several good tugs before it finally ripped free from the earth, roots and all. He fell backwards at the sudden lack of resistance and landed on his back, his legs going numb.

Heard a muffled voice and soon, his mother was leaning over him, saying something he couldn't understand. His chest felt like a lead weight had been placed on it, making it difficult to breath properly. He was faintly aware of the arm that wrapped around his waste, helping him to stand and walk back to the house.

Once inside, he was deposited on one of the chairs at the table. Moments later, a cool wet rag was pressed against his forehead. He could hear his mother's voice, but it was muffled and he couldn't understand what she was saying. He felt cold and then hot and then cold again, as if his body couldn't make up its mind. He was once again lifted from the chair, leaning heavily on his mother as she helped him to his bed. She wrapped his quilt around him and stroked his hair away from his forehead as gently as her calloused hands could. He fell into a dreamless sleep soon afterwards.

It was several hours later when he next woke with a pounding headache. The sun had already begun to melt into twilight outside his window, signifying the end of the day. He brought a hand to his head before sitting up and leaning heavily against the wall behind him. Moments later, his mother entered with a bowl of cabbage soup and cup something that smelled fowl, doubtlessly one of her home made remedies. When she saw him, she clucked her tongue, before setting the bowl and cup down on his dresser and approaching him. "You should not be sitting up on your own yet, boy." She chided wearily. She handed him the cup first, "Drink it all, and don't you dare say it tastes funny." She commanded mildly, smirking as the words died on her boy's lips. He quickly swallowed it, resisting the urge to throw up, just to rid himself of the concoction. However, his mother seemed satisfied and next handed him the bowl, waiting to see if he would drop it. Once she was convinced that he could indeed support it himself, she let go, allowing him to take small sips of the broth. Once he was done, he handed her the bowl and she collected the cup and made her way out to the kitchen.

As she pushed aside the curtain that separated the rooms, Link couldn't help but notice the two baskets of vegetables that the woman had, not doubt, been forced to collect alone. He felt guilt gnaw at him. He knew that she worried excessively over him even though, by all rights, he should have been old enough to care for them both. Why couldn't he even help with one simple task without causing trouble for the woman?

"Now, little one, do not trouble yourself with such things. It simply won't do for you to upset your health further." The voice said.

Link snorted, "What do you want?" he muttered, quietly enough so that his mother wouldn't hear from the other room.

"Is that any attitude to take with someone who was only concerned with your wellbeing?" it asked in mocking-hurt tone.

"'Concerned for my wellbeing?' That will be the day." Link responded. "Now answer my question, would you?"

It sighed dramatically, "I merely thought I would inform you that you'll be going into town tomorrow, so you'd best be well rested."

At that, Link's suspicion was roused, "Why must I go into town? You must know that, after what happened today, mother won't allow it." He said carefully.

"You'll make sure she allows it." The other hissed. "I have important business that I must tend to. After all, tomorrow is a big day for the both of us."

"Business? What could you possibly have to do?" Link asked.

"That…" the other drawled, "Is really none of your concern. All I need of you is for you to do as your told, I can take care of the rest."

The room suddenly seemed cold and Link found himself unable to move. Even his eyes refused to look around and instead, simply stared blankly ahead. He felt an eerily familiar set of smooth, cold fingers running through his hair and petting his head gently. The voice whispered right in the boy's ear, its cold breath tickling his neck. "I really needn't tell you what will happen should you try to disobey, boy." It taunted. Its fingers trailed down from the boy's hairline to his cheekbone, coming to rest there, intermittently stroking the pale skin of his face. "Your poor mother suffers enough because of your weakness. Do you really want to cause her even more suffering? Remember that your simple acts of obedience are all you can do to spare her from the pain that I could inflict."

Then, as quickly as it appeared, the cold fingers disappeared and he found his body once again under his own control. He breathed heavily, still shaken from the experience.

"Remember." Was the last thing the voice said before fading away completely. At that moment, his mother reentered the room with a damp rag, "Now, I want you to get your rest tonight. If you're still feeling poorly in the morning, I'll take the harvest into town." She said, helping him to lie down before placing the rag on his forehead. He did his best to smile at her, "Thank you, mother but… I think I shall be fine by the morning. Please don't worry about me." He assured her. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, "It can't be helped. I always worry about you." She huffed; unaware at the way her son flinched at those words. She ruffled his hair lightly, "Now go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." She said before leaving.

Link closed his eyes, "Good night mother."


As always, reviews are appreciated. I hope to have the next chapter up soon, so I hope you'll check back in on this story.

January 5, 2013