Welcome! I hope you enjoy your stay with this fanfic.

I've been mulling over this storyline idea for a while now, and I'm thrilled to shove it out into the public eye. It's been a while since I've stitched together a storyline like this; I hope this chapter is a good kick-off that gets you guys interested.

I hope to update every week/every other week. It depends on what my school/work schedule will permit me to do, but I won't leave y'all hanging :)

This is entirely an AU by the by, where right now I'm putting the rating at T, but there's going to be some touches of M (if that worries you). Nothing too crazy though.

Let me know what you think! Feedback helps a lot and is a good motivator. Enjoy the ride!

The 8th Earl of the Eastern Shores of Holodrum was enjoying his nightly bath when he noticed something slightly amiss.

Firstly, his masseur had not arrived to give him his shoulder massage, which was something that had been instilled in his very regular routine. And this masseur he'd recently hired was very good. He knew exactly where the old, fat earl's knots were in his neck and shoulders and was a very good listener. The earl could complain about anything he wanted, and this masseur would simply nod and offer soothing, sage-like advice for his worries. The man had been originally an islander as well. Always knew how to live life to the fullest, the earl believed.

Well, the earl was not living life to the fullest as of now. His life consisted of meetings and other boring affairs. At least he did get some delicious meals for his position in Holodrum's court. He always bragged to his fellow court members that his kitchen had the best chefs in Holodrum, even outdoing the king's chefs. It also helped that the rare mineral mines were in his domain. He'd flaunt his riches occasionally, but he never wanted to make himself too much of a target.

The earl shifted in his ivory bath, his double chin progressing to a quadruple chin. The massive amount of bubbles in the bath were beginning to fade, just ever so slightly.

All right, now he was growing upset. The bubbles beginning to die out was a sign that his bath would soon begin to attain that lukewarm ambiance that he hated.

"Damien, I hope you're using this time for the better," The earl called, slightly turning his head in the direction of the bathroom door. "I don't have this much leisure time for the night," he grumbled, settling deeper into his bath.

There was no response from his masseur. What was the man doing now, taking a stroll on the estate grounds? While the earl did often boast of his exceeding patience, this hold-up was getting on his nerves. This had never happened before and was getting to be on the edge of the earl's (seemingly exceeding) patience.

While the earl lounged in the tub, he failed the notice the silhouette of a man standing behind the slightly transparent door to the bathroom.

"Damien?" The earl called again. A slight worm of worry began to wriggle in his stomach at the masseur's lack of response. The bathroom felt eerily quiet now. The only noise was the water lightly sloshing against the sides of the tub.

The earl's irritation suddenly bubbled up again, urging him to take initiative and demand for Damien to explain what was going on.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, especially at the fact that his night was leaning toward spoiled, the old man turned as best as he could in his tub, craning his head in the direction of the door.

"Damien, I want to know what is going on –"

The earl's voice was suddenly strangled in his own throat, a rasping noise that followed it with his shock. It felt as if the bath had dropped to subzero temperatures, a long shiver snaking up the man's spine.

The man standing in the doorway was not Damien.

He was wearing a heavy cloak, the hood pulled down over his face, keeping his visage in shadow. His stance was one that someone would acquire when they knew their opponent's time was up – wide stance, slightly crouched.

In his left hand was a bloody knife.

The earl watched each small blood drop drip, drip, drip down to the tile floors from the blade. The small noise that each drop made against the tile was almost deafening.

The old man wobbled as he stood up in the tub, stepping out as the man in the doorway took one, two stalking steps forward. The earl, shakily grabbing the towel rack near him, hurled it the best he could at the man before the intruder lunged, upsetting the towel rack with a magnificent crash that reverberated through the bathroom.

It didn't take long for the earl to be caught after the cacophony that had erupted in the bathroom. The old man stumbled once, twice, before the cloaked man slipped behind him, jamming the dagger into the base of the earl's throat, and pulling up.

As the intruder did his deed, he pushed the earl back into the tub, blood spraying onto the sides of the tub and the floor beneath, quickly dying the bubbly waters a deep red. Water dripped down the sides of the tub, pooling on the tile below and mixing with the excess spray of red that had clothed the floor.

The intruder stumbled back, breathing heavily as he stared at his work. His black shirt underneath his heavy cloak had discolored, wet sprays on it from the violent release of blood from the earl's throat. The dagger in his hand was blood-soaked, liquid sliding off the shining blade and onto the previously pristine floor.

After a few moments of quiet reflection from the murderer, he cursed. "Shit. Shit shit shit shit…"

Quickly looking over the scene in the bathroom once more, the man stalked back into the bedroom, where the dead body of Damien the masseur lay. That kill had been easy. Strangled the man with the bed canopy, not before stabbing him to subdue – no struggle, somewhat.

The earl, however…

There was a rustle on the balcony of the dead earl's chambers, and a lithe, also cloaked figure stepped from the shadows into the dim lighting of the chambers. A feminine voice sounded from under the hood.

"What did you do?" A hiss. "You botched the job, genius."

With a huff of exasperation, the man pulled down his hood, glaring at the woman standing in the half-light, half-shadow. Glimmering blue eyes, hawkish in nature, glowered at the woman from under messy dirty-blond hair.

"I botched the job? It's not my fault the oaf was getting impatient," The man's jawline clenched at his irritation as the woman crossed her arms. "he stood up in the tub before I could ambush him. It was a mess straight from the get-go."

"You could've strangled the other man quicker. Like Father taught us, oaf."

"Ok, then do it all by yourself next time, Midna."

The man turned to the bed, carelessly wiping his dagger on the wine-colored comforter. Midna pulled down her hood, revealing voluminous, fire-tinged hair and almost-golden eyes. Pretty, narrow features that looked nearly unnatural.

After a microsecond of silence, Midna spoke. "We ought to leave now. People will have no doubt heard the ruckus you caused, Link." Her eyes flickered in the dim light of the bed-chambers. "The guards down below seem unaware, however. They should be easy to bypass, even if you're a bull in a china shop."

"For the record, it was his ruckus first. He was the one who threw the goddamn towel rack." Link bent down slightly to slide his dagger into a sheath attached to his thigh, before standing straight again. He looked past Midna, out into the dark-navy night that was painted above the balcony. "We should meet back with Father. He'll no doubt want to hear if we succeeded or not."

Midna simply rolled her eyes, a slight smile playing on her face.

"Doesn't he always expect the same outcome every time?"

"I was expecting something…better, Link."

Link's stomach made a weak flop, and he shifted uncomfortably at his father's subtly disappointed tone.

"I…did what I thought was intended, sir."

The atmosphere inside the large tent was tense, the small fire in the middle of the ground crackling, sending small sparks into the air, before dissipating. The smoke from the fire snaked up and out of the tent through the small hole in the roof, creating a haze between the two men.

Link was standing towards the entrance of the tent, keeping the fire in between him and the hulking man expressing his disappointment.

The man in his seat was staring into the fire, citrine-colored eyes flickering, ruby cloak pulled over his large shoulders. His dark skin glowed in the fading and surging light, a hand thoughtfully pulled over his mouth before he sat up straight, sharply inhaling.

"I heard it was messier than expected," His low voice boomed. Link fought to keep any emotion out of his face, and only forced a tight smile.

"I can assure you, it will look like an amateur killed the earl. They won't be looking for us, and our group's way to the mines will be clear for a short time like you hoped for."

There was a pause.

"Good!"

Link jumped at the exclamation, surprised at the response as the older man continued, "I'm glad. I was quite sure you could get it done," The man stood, towering over Link. Link wasn't short, mind, but his father was gigantic. One of the Gerudo, his stature along with his personality was a clear indicator of that. Tall, strong, aggressive, crafty.

While there were some setbacks to his personality, he did take Link in as an infant. And then made him into a weapon, but if one looked past that…

"I will tell the thieves to converge on the mines. We'll be traveling back to Hyrule at daybreak."

"And my bounty?"

"Link, your father, the mighty Ganondorf Dragmire, will deliver. After all, I have an assignment for you that will change your life."

Link raised a brow at that as his father rounded the fire, moving to the tent entrance, pulling it open for Link. "…Change my life?" Link stepped outside, Ganondorf following.

The small camp of tents was arranged in a circle, in the middle of the grand plain near the 8th Earl's estate. The stars were vivid and twinkling down onto the camp, the low, late-summer breeze rustling the tall grass. Quiet, a rare moment for Link.

The Citrine Legion had been spending at least a week in the plains, waiting for the 8th Earl's death so the thieves of the faction could invade the mines. As lawless as the group was, there was an undeniable order within them – with Ganondorf Dragmire the unquestioned leader.

"It will change our lives for the better. The other factions will salivate at our prize. And," Ganondorf patted Link heavily on the shoulder, making Link stagger slightly at the sheer weight. "I'll give you all the riches you need to go your own way."

The thought of a reward as large as that sent Link's heart into a thrill. With the amount his father was suggesting, enough to free Link from his father's hold that had been so tight his entire life, it would be enough to set Midna free as well.

Not that Link or Midna didn't enjoy the company of Ganondorf and his crew. But after all, they were adults now, perfectly capable of taking care of themselves and raiding new lords and ladies for bounty. They had grown up together, Midna being incorporated into the legion a few years after Link. Of course, Link needed to think about her a little.

Well, and there was no need to be a puppet when the opportunity to become the puppeteer was wide open for inquiries.

Ganondorf sighed heavily. "To think, letting my son go after this assignment. A scary thought, but you're ready." His voice seemed to play on the blend between somber and dangerous. A dull knife can still maim if pressed hard enough against flesh.

"What…would you like me to do, exactly?" Link questioned delicately, not aiming to sound too eager.

Ganondorf chuckled lightly as if amused by some joke he had just invented. He stepped in front of Link, looking up at the stars, before looking back at his son.

"I'd like you to assassinate the Empress of Hyrule."

Link didn't know if his ears were deceiving him, but it sounded like the wind had died suddenly, the plains going silent at Ganondorf's words. As if the earth was waiting with bated breath.

An uncontrollable shiver climbed up Link's spine, but he fought any reactionary expression that could form on his face.

His father was asking him to topple a nation.

"…Father," Link began, albeit tentatively, clearing his throat, but Ganondorf cut him off.

"The empress will be married to the kingdom of Labrynna in the coming weeks. If that happens our reward will be lost."

Ganondorf was quiet for a moment, and Link thought it an opportunity to speak.

"Wouldn't there be a power vacuum?"

It was a stupid question, of course, there would be such a vacuum. But this wasn't some assignment asking to destabilize a region, ruffle some feathers and create a little chaos - this was dismantling a very peaceful, very guarded nation.

"Isn't that what we want?" The Gerudo countered, narrowing his gaze as he looked at Link. "It's the most beautiful opportunity. Hyrule will be thrown into chaos - what we work best in, after all." the Gerudo chuckled darkly, and Link pulled a slight, sheepish smile across his face.

"I was not thinking of the results to our benefit."

"Hyrule will become a chicken without its head," Ganondorf began to walk, moving out towards the open plains outside of the circle of tents. Link followed, the warmth from the fire shrinking the more the two stepped into the darkness. "and we'll make a meal out of it."

Link couldn't help but exhale in amusement, and Ganondorf threw back his head, letting out a grumbling 'hah!' that began in his chest. Ganondorf pointed up at the night sky, circling vaguely with the digit.

"The constellation of the Beast, the first one I ever showed you," He mused as Link's gaze followed the path of his pointing finger, seeing the vaguely animal-shaped constellation in the sky. "you were hardly able to hold your own walking."

Link's brows raised slightly in thought as Ganondorf continued, letting his hand fall to his side once more.

"You became a little beast after a while. You stopped crying at the age of six. My proudest achievement."

"Your proudest achievement is me suppressing tears?"

Ganondorf nodded with a furrowed brow as if Link's question was absurd. "Of course! I knew my son was the strongest boy in Hyrule and all the surrounding lands that day. What more could a father want?"

Link shrugged. "I'm not sure."

It was always mildly alarming that his father kept intense track of Link's emotional breaks. Link pushed it aside as Ganondorf patted him roughly on the shoulders.

"I would get back to your tent, we're leaving at dawn. Oh, and," Ganondorf paused as if choosing his words carefully, "don't tell your sister just yet. She had a loose mouth during this assignment - the Kokiri almost figured it out. Keep her trap shut."

And with that, the leader of the Citrine Legion left his son staring off into the open plains.

That was true. Midna had the weakest, if not, no filter. Link wracked his brain to remember. They'd been talking about it in a pub, hadn't they? Midna was just too loud at times.

"Idiot." Link shook his head, pulling his cloak off himself and balling it into his arms.

The group hadn't returned to Hyrule in a long while; in fact, Link could hardly recall what the Empress even looked like. She hardly showed her face, didn't she? All he saw in his mind was a blurred, pretty face. He winced at that as he turned around to walk back to his own tent. He made an internal note to find out of her face, and know every detail of it.

He'd weasel out her routine. Her closest advisors.

And most importantly, when she was alone, no matter how small the timeframe.

Link couldn't help but smile, the slightly cruel expression pulling tight across his face as he opened the flap into his tent. Inside, Midna was sitting on her respective sleeping bundle, now spread out across the ground in a messy manner.

"What was that weird smirk you just had on your face?"

The smile on Link's face disappeared as she spoke, letting Link face her completely with a somewhat neutral expression.

"And what are you looking at?" He said crossly, pulling the ties of his high-necked shirt loose before pulling it over his head. His torso was wrapped with thick, compression-like bandages, bandages that he began to pull off himself as Midna only exhaled, looking away with her chin in her hand.

"I was only pulling your leg a little…" She muttered as she lay down, holding her head up with a hand, elbow on her pillow. "did father say much?"

Link folded up his bandages as he sat down on his own bedspread, then proceeding to unwrap the sticky bandages that were coiled around his fingers. He pondered his response as he then pulled his small hair tie loose, letting his hair fall to its full length, just below his chin.

"No," He lied.

"Really nothing?"

"Yes."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Can you stop?"

"No."

Midna scowled, pulling her pillow from under her and hurling it at Link's head, who fell back slightly from the force behind the throw. In response, Link whipped the offending object back. Midna deflected it with a hand, the pillow landing next to the sputtering lantern in the tent, the smell of burning cotton quickly wafting up in the tent.

"LINK!"

"It's not MY fault!"

Bitter arguing and curses spilled from the tent, followed by the splash of water and more venomous words. Gradually, the ruckus died down as the central fire of the camp succumbed to the night, leaving the stars overhead as the only light across the quiet, whistling plains of Holodrum.

Hope this first chapter was a good taste y'all. Please R&R!

~eyr