Disclaimer: I don't own anything about Zelda.

A. N. As I said before, instead of posting a romance, I ended up posting an assassin's tale. Don't you just FEEL the feeling? :-P

An Assassin's Tale

Why is it that people care so much for their lives? Why is it that people care so much for their own lives? It is a question that has been lingering in my mind these past few days, the last ones of my life, mind you. Why are people so afraid of death? Why do they fear the shadows? Why can they not have the wit to perceive that the shadow is a perfect haven for those who seek quietness and peace? I can only repeat these over and over till I can only come up with an answer: I do not know. Maybe it is because the tendency to fear the unknown is deeply clasped within our heart's grasp? Or perhaps it is that many have joyful existences that they wish not to be apart from? Or maybe I am all wrong and fear of death is finally clutching my mind and making me think foolishnesses? For one thing is certain: now that I know I am doomed I do not wish to die. I cannot feel any kind of fear that could make me shiver or tremble though. No, I learned how to leave those behind a long time ago. But they say that fear is as deep within our minds as much as love for others. Love for others? I cannot say that I have never felt love for another, but that was also a long time ago. Could it be that when I left love behind me I left fear along it? Nay, what am I saying? Fear lies in my heart, if not enough to drive me into panic. I fear for my life now that I cannot see any way to escape death's insolent smirk. I fear, I who has faced death's grin many times and have grinned back at her, also many times; I who have showed death to others who have not known how to turn their faces away from her; I who represent that Black Lady herself. I fear and yet, I do not desire to lose my mind. My mind is the only thing I have left, for my heart is also lost. Yes, it is lost now; I had feared that I had lost it long ago, but when I finally realized it had just lain hidden within myself I lost it for good. I do not know if to laugh at myself or if to look at me with pity in my eyes. Well, I do not know if the bleeding eye is capable of stirring its unblinking gaze towards pity. But I have heard of many shadow-folk that have had self-pity at a time and have cast it away proudly. I wish there were some of those to tell me how, for I cannot feel any pride in what I used to do. Not that I ashamed of it, it is just that no pride can be found (at least not by a sane mind) in what I was condemned for. I know, now, why people fear so much death and repulse the thought of the Black Lady: because they have those who are called feelings, unlike me.

I sit down in deep thought about of my last murder. It is not a fair word, but murder is its name, and so I shall name it. Yes, there I am, meeting in the darkness with a man whose name remains in my element: the shadows. He tells me of how he could pay me very handsomely if I could take out of the way certain Hylian of royal blood that hinders his path. He says that his motives are his own, and that I have no concern for them. I tell him that I do not use to question motives, although his is revealed like the sun at sunrise when he tells me about my target. He says that the heir of the throne and crown to Hyrule must not be drawing breath by two days from now, though I measure time not in days but in nights. He says that the means to do it are of my liking and that he shall give me leave to use whatever I want to finish the heir off. Unhappy fool! If the murder is too obvious then he who takes the crown instead of heir shall be the main suspect.

But then again, it is not of my concern what becomes of my hirer afterwards.

I ask for my payment and he answers that it shall come in due time. I laugh at his attempt of being brave as he tells me so and reply that I only carry on with my gain assured. How will he assure my payment? He wavers and stammers saying again that I shall receive it in due time, that he is a Hylian of honor and shall not falter to his word. Why is he planning the untimely death of a Royal Family member if he has this honor? I look at him in the eye and he perceives the small gleam of red in my gaze. I can see his shivers going all the way up his spine. I sneer in the darkness about us. He breaks down into wavers and I force him to hand over the money at that same time. With no guards about and no way out of the shadows, he whimpers a small beg and produces a leather wallet out of his pocket. I snatch it away quickly and let him go. Before he can crawl out I whisper loud enough that by two nights the heir shall not have a breath drawing. He shuns away and I open the wallet and let fall its contents on the floor. None of the beautiful crystals break and I can be sure that they are rupees. The gold emits a slight gleam even in the darkness as I laugh quietly in my own thoughts. I had lost the custom, nay, the ability to laugh out aloud in my years of living. It was but necessary, for own my sake.

The next night I open a medium-sized chest and draw its contents to the floor. A long sword flashes in the moonlight, followed by a Sheikah rapier with its tip as thin as a needle. Two long knifes lay besides the bigger weapons and contrast greatly with them. I often use the knives instead of the larger blades, as the sword and the rapier are the weapons of a warrior. Since I am not one, the knives have lost their light and gleam not even in the white light issuing from the dark skies above me. I then proceed to put my remaining instruments into their scabbards. As the long knives are sheathed and lain still, I look at the moon shining brightly above me and frown, even if nobody can notice it. The Sheikah moon is the full moon, but it does not aid me in my task right now.

So be it! I have slain before in the moonlight, I can do it again!

After a few hours of striding, I come across the moat of Hyrule Castle. The drawbridge is closed as usual during the night, but that offers not a great obstacle for me. Drawing from my belt a tool that has been mine since I am able to recall, I aim the ruby-red dot that emerges from it to a small watch post at the other side of the gate. I pull a trigger and a chain fires from the item across the air and sticks in the tower. I feel a usual sensation of being pulled as the spring in my Hookshot reloads the chain back to it. I land safely in the post and draw my knife immediately expecting a surprised guard with a long spear. To my relief no guard was at the time watching out to the field. I smile at the thought of the relative safety that the people of the castle deem to live on. Perhaps the castle can withstand a full-scale siege, but a lone shadow blending in itself cannot be wholly expected. I have learned in my long years of assassinating that dangers to the castle and its people can be in the form of an invading army as well as a small band of murderers, from within as well as from without. They can never achieve a complete control of the dangers of the world, as obvious as this may sound.

I scan my surroundings with care before jumping down from the gate to a nearby roof to the ground. As I land in the cobblestone-covered ground of the market, I gaze about me after taking cover beside a house-wall. No living soul in my sight. I proceed with the quiet step that the Sheikah have in their movement and arrive to the market. Many street dogs run and play and mate in the night at the market grounds. I have always wondered at this, and it has always bothered me also; aside the moon, there were these stray dogs that hindered me with their sniffs and pathetic barks. I become so angry at this that I have decided to slay any dog that comes closer to me than a few feet. So it is that dogs clear out of the way when I wander in the market and that people have found many of these dead in the morning. The only thing that keeps me aware of these cursed animals is their barks that echo throughout the whole place. I think that people cannot tell the difference, but I, who has developed a most sensitive ear, hear the special hate in the growls at me. I heed them little, though they still annoy me at times.

After a few steps through the mutt-infested market I see the exit to the castle grounds. I quicken my pace and arrive at the gate. I can see the soldier fully awaken but bored at his guarding post. Although I could easily stab him to death covered by the shadows, I do not slay unnecessarily, ironic though it may sound. It leaves too many tracks to kill a soldier out of nothing, especially when the main target is within stone walls in a fortress full of them. I simply climb up a vine that runs up the right bank of the path instead. I then proceed to bent over and advance crawling towards the meadow in front of the castle. No soldiers are there and I can stand up after a short while. The main entrance to the castle is closed with a drawbridge and guarded by two heavily armored soldiers. I know I stand no chance against a well trained soldier of the King clad in armour, so I slip away from the gate and climb another bank west to the castle. I then jump down and land quietly, lying on the ground to reduce my silhouette. I creep like that to the inner moat and slowly slide to the water. Making hardly any sound other than a slight waver in the surface, I swim across the moat to the eastern wing of the palace, were the water poured onto the moat from a small stream beginning inside of the courtyard. My goal was not in there, so I come up out of the water in front of the stream, facing it, and look upwards. The regular tower where the heir's chambers are rise from the ground floor up to three stories. Not even my Hookshot could reach out so high, so I sit on the ground to think of a way in. I suddenly remember a door that leads inside the castle across the courtyard just besides me. I turn my gaze to the right and see it. Knowing that it would probably be locked I draw my knife and slide it into the lock. My sword, I reckon, is sharp enough to cut through the knob with an effort, such is the craft of blade-making by the Sheikah. But the terrible racket I would cause persuades me to use the knife instead. After a few tries, I open the door carefully to avoid the creaking of it, for I had used it several times before. I enter and continue through the winding path across and above the courtyard until I find myself in the ground floor, inside the castle. Crossing a last door, I find myself in the entrance hall, just behind the gate.

Since some torches (thankfully not all of them) are lit I can see the magnificence of the hall. Carefully wrought door-arches are carved above every entrance to many passages that lead to different places. A great chandelier hangs above with several dozens of little candles that are lit only on special occasions, or so I have deemed. A huge, red carpet softens my feet and my step-noise (already insignificant, I daresay) and covers the path from the gate to the main passage that leads to the throne room. The stone bricks are well-polished and the ones about the door-arches are all white and shiny, like of marble instead of gray stone. Many suits of armor from old ages stand besides the red carpet as guards that watch over the hall forever. Some of them bear heavy axes while others brandish long-swords, all very well preserved. The walls beside the entrance to the throne hall are covered in paintings with many themes. One of these shows a strange being clad all in blackened blue with many bandages about his limbs, although he is not wounded. I recognize immediately a Sheikah wielding his rapier in front of a foe of the King.

I have often thought of the role of the Sheikah in the guarding of the people and the Royal Family. What oath binds us as bodyguards? Why are we obliged to serve the King? It is not the first time I wonder at this and it was in fact this thought that made me relinquish my duty as a guard many years ago and live by what I do now. If none could explain why I had to act against my will then I would just not act at all. In those days I had still somebody who loved me, but I became estranged from her and the time came when I was not cared about by anyone. I decided, then, to live by my own doing what best I could do. I put my training as a Sheikah warrior to my uses and here I am, though I do not know for how long now.

I walk towards the entrance to the throne room and stand before its doors. I noticed something I had not seen ever during other times. An inscription was carved in one of the knobs.

To the brave feeling, a valiant heart.

I do not understand its meaning, perhaps because I had my mind set on other things. But out of curiosity I check the other knob and read another inscription.

To the wise minded, a noble heart

I soon ignore these words, having not understood them completely, and turn the doorknob. A long hallway with dozens of stairs winds before me, ever covered in the red carpet. I silently go up these stairs after closing the door behind me. The torches all along the staircase that hang on the walls besides me are out and the only light that crosses the darkness of the hallway comes from the distant doors above and in front of me. At last I come to the case's ending and slightly open one of the doors. The moonlight enters through the large windows to the right, uncovered with curtains. I notice two passages each beside the throne. One of them surely leads to the heir's chamber. But I must be sure of which one is.

Now that I think of it, who is this heir? Is it a child? Is it already a warrior? Is it a princess? I care not at all about the Hylians' affairs and, thus, I never knew who was the heir to the throne. Well, it was a question that would soon be answered anyway. I wonder again which staircase could lead to the right room. Taking a chance, I choose the left passage and start climbing it. I soon notice a small object lying on one of the stairs. I stoop and retrieve it. It is a doll of a knight. I stare at it. The heir of the King is a young prince I conclude thus. I never was keen to murder children, but these later years have quite changed me. Indeed, I do not care whether my target is a prince, a princess or a new-born child. I just do what I was bidden and hired to do.

At last I stand before another door at the end of the staircase. I quietly open it without much second thought and enter the room.

A spacious chamber reveals itself before me, with some windows facing the forest to the west. Richly adorned torches hang from the walls, all lit off obviously. In the middle of two small tables and leaning to the northern wall is a bed with many veils about it that seem to float rather that hang. Though the moonlight is very dim in that part of the room, I notice that the veils are all white. I wonder what kind of boy would want white veils about his bed, though perhaps his parents wanted it that way. I start my way to the boy's bed, drawing one of my long knives.

And now come the most bitter part of this whole affair, the one that costs me now my life. As I walked stealthily to the sleeping child I stepped in one of his toys, making not a great sound, but enough to rouse the boy awake. In a split second I gaze down and notice a princess doll with my left foot over her broken arm. A female doll? I look up again to see a figure in the darkness rising from the bed and staring at me. As quickly as I can, I jump forward and stamp my hand on the mouth of the… princess. I stand amazed at the sight of a young girl whereas I expected a boy. As rare as it may sound I cannot feel my knife in my hand by the surprise. I jump to the bed and hold her fast still within my legs' grasp. The memory of the sight, though, still makes me sink into deep thought, almost remorse one might say. A young girl with long and soft hair stares at me with the most unimaginable terror in her gaze. The moonlight casts a tiny reflection of its source on those tearful eyes that look at me in fear. It was then that I committed the worst thing an assassin can do with its target. I return her gaze with my own and for a short but significant while we stare at each other. Without much more time, then, I raise my knife over her heart. In a sudden moment, she bites my hand and I take it off from her soft lips. But too late to do anything. My knife is already on its way down when my hand is hurt. As the sharp weapon plunges into her chest I hear a terrible scream, a scream that carries pain and agony, but above all, utter terror. I pull back my knife, covered in her young blood, and stare at the familiar scene. After having screamed with such a force, the princess begins to breath quickly, but her breaths do not turn into gasps, and after a few agonizing moments the girl lays still, blood still gushing from her open wound. The heir is dead, and long ere dawn of the second day.

Suddenly, a flash parts the darkness, and for less than a second I can see the princess in the light. Her long and golden hair is stained in blood at its tips while her nightgown and the blanket with which she wrapped are dyed in red. Her eyes stare blankly at me, devoid of life I deem and her mouth is open. I turn to whence the noise of the flash had come and I see a figure approaching to me with a long rapier, quick as the shadows.

A fellow Sheikah.

Before the silhouette can hew at me with its weapon I raise my knife and deflect the blow. In a single move I draw my own rapier and charge at the figure with my knife. The shadow-being barely crouches as my blade swings in the air above it. It then tries to stab me while near the floor, but I lower my rapier and stop its blow. With a kick I fall to the ground, though, and the figure cries in a female voice for the young girl. Princess! Princess!, she calls. I have made sure that no reply came from her, though. With another flash, one of the torches is lit and I can see the Sheikah-woman with whom I fight. She is tall, almost male-height and stares at me with the biggest hatred I have seen in someone's eyes. With a wild shout she aims a savage blow at me, but I simply dodge it moving to the right. My knife flashes and the next thing the Sheikah sees is her blade flying and landing on the hard marble floor. I stare back at her. The blade is too far away for her to retrieve it, so she only returns to the princess' side and stands in front of her with her arms in the air in a defensive position.

But it is futile.

I have no interest in harming her in anyway, and the child is dead. My task is complete.

Or so I think.

A moan from behind the Sheikah-woman reaches my ears as the door trembles with the charges of somebody behind it. The Sheikah must have alerted the soldiers with her shout. I grab a chair and throw it at the door. After that, I grab a desk and throw it also at the door. It is now fast-closed. I turn my attention to the moaning I am hearing and notice, dumbfounded, that the child is still alive. She is in fact even conscious as she pulls the hand of her guardian pitifully. The woman evidently thinks that I am distracted, for she makes a move for the rapier lying on the floor.

I hurl my knife at her and I hear a characteristic thud as my fellow Sheikah falls with a noise, the knife stuck on her waist.

I walk hastily towards the young girl and draw my other knife. She looks at me again with horror and that is when I stand still with my knife in the air, stricken in my whole body. I cannot move a limb, I cannot move my hand, I cannot even turn my gazed elsewhere. Those blue eyes staring at me tearfully, with such a gaze of fear shall haunt me for the rest of my life, and I shall never find relief to that memory.

I feel a heavy blow in my back, suddenly. I turn and hit hard in the face the Sheikah who stumbles backwards, the rapier within her grasp. I tighten my grip on the knife and let it fall not over the princess' heart but over her forehead. I feel the blade crack the bone and sink deep within her fair head just ere as a sharp pain in my waist makes me waver; the rapier has sunken in my back. The last thing I see is the door crack open and the soldiers pouring in just to stand in dismay at the horrible sight that must be the young girl. But the last thing I hear is a long and terrible cry by the girl's guardian. As I see her running for the bed I hear her laments. No! she cries as loudly as she can and breaks into sobs embracing the girl in her mighty arms before I perceive no more.

* * *

Why? Why, I wonder? Why did I have to look into her eyes? Now I cannot forget that stare. It shall come to me to the grave as a terrible secret. I am now in the castle dungeon, in one of its cells (one of its dark cells, mind you) awaiting for the executioner. I have been doomed to die by hanging before the cheers and the insults of the ignorant people who do not know what they mock at. In other situations, I might have been trying and looking for an escape to this tight situation. But the bars are of solid iron, and the cell is well built. And besides that, I realize that I deserve this fate. I now fear death, but I cannot cow before the Black Lady. I shall smile at her even if this time she kisses me instead of only smiling back. But one thing is certain: I will not let those ignorant peasants mock me and insult me. For, though I have resigned to die today, it is I who will choose the way of my death. Those castle fools should clean up a bit these cells from time to time. Beneath my sleeping-table I found (who would have guessed?) a old and rusted dagger, belonging, perhaps, to an old prisoner. I clutch the weapon and stare at it.

No.

I shall not die in an old rope hanging by my neck. I shall die by a blade, as a true Sheikah. I can now feel the agony and fear of the young princess whose life I took untimely. I honorably shall beg her forgiveness in a short while when I join the dead.

I hear the hinges creak and the dungeon door opens. I quickly take the old blade and sink it deep within my chest. I feel terrible pain as the blade pierces something soft within me.

Who would have thought of it? I still have a heart after all.

A. N. Quite dark, eh? I think it's the darkest fic I've written.

Leave your comments, please, after this Tale. I especially want to know what do you think of this one, as this is my first really, really dark fic that I tried to write elegantly.