A/N: If at least one part of this prologue doesn't make you go "d'aaww!" then I have failed. :/ Anyways, if you do read this and choose to review it, please let me know how I'm doing on character description and descriptive details. That's always been my weak point, and these are characters I really want to bring to life! Faron might be my fictional baby at the moment, but The Legend of Zelda is Nintendo's kid, and especially the Triforce, that's their's too. Just borrowin' it for dramatic effect. :P
III
Midnight looked around the throne room, peeking his head through the doorway to see if anyone else was there. The large, grandesque room was empty, except for the unmoving statues in the corners that served as the guards. The Twilight Prince giggled to himself as he ran into the room, which he normally wasn't allowed to play in, and ran up to the large throne and scrambled into the seat. He turned around, bouncing giddily as he pretended to survey his dominion. He reached his arms out to the armrest, his tiny black fingers barely gripping the stone, and he stood himself straight with a serious look on his face, mimicking how he had seen his mother sitting on the throne countless times before.
Midnight adored his mother, the Queen of Twilight, she was beautiful, and kind, and she never spoke a harsh word to her subjects or her only son. Even when the boy got into mischief, she did not chastise him. Her knowing looks were always enough for Midnight to see she did not approve, and she would hold the little child as he promised not to get into trouble again. Midnight grinned to himself, a single little sharp tooth poking out over his lips, as he remembered his mother's words, how one day all of the Twilight Realm would be his to rule over. The idea of it simply excited Midnight, but he thought it was funny how his mother never told him this with the sense of great pride or excitement that Midnight felt. She seemed almost sad to tell Midnight that, and he was not too sure why.
'How could she be sad about that?' Midnight thought to himself. He most certainly was not, especially if he got to rule over the Twilight Realm with Xantha. Midnight's gray cheeks flushed as he thought of his bride-to-be. Midnight did not understand nor care what an arranged marriage was, he just knew that the yellow-eyed girl with a long, red, braided hair was beautiful, but he didn't get to see her very much, as she did not live in the palace. He knew when he was older, he would marry Xantha, and she would come to live with him in the Twilight Palace, and they could play games all day long, whenever they wanted, instead of the few times Xantha came to visit while her guardians talked about adult things with the Queen.
The 8-year-old prince could picture himself as King, with Xantha as his queen, the two of them sitting on the throne together as the peaceful Twili joyously bowed to them, their rulers. Of course, in his childish mind he could not imagine Xantha or himself as adults, so he pictured the two children sitting together on the throne, one armrest for each of them.
He sighed and closed his eyes, those bright yellow orbs with red irises that sat like saucers in his pale little face. He felt so lonely sometimes, in this great big castle. He enjoyed his lessons as his mother taught him about the world he lived in, its history, and he especially enjoyed her stories of the world that lies beyond the Twilight Realm, a world where people live in light instead of shadow (a strange concept little Midnight simply could not comprehend). The Twili were kind, though very slow and boring, they simply could not keep up with the energetic child. There were no children of Midnight's age in the palace. Except for when Xantha came to visit, and Midnight's advisor-in-training Misha (a cowardly and nervous boy who was always afraid of breaking rules and tried to keep Midnight out of trouble, to no avail), Midnight had no one to play with.
Just as Midnight's thoughts strayed to his desire for a playmate of equal energy and curiosity as him, he looked up to see the door that led into the throne room glow and fade away as someone entered the room. Midnight smiled as he recognized the tall, elegant cloaked figure of his mother, and hopped off of the his perch and ran to her as she bent down to greet him. It was then he noticed some sort of bundle that she was holding to her chest.
"What's that?" the little prince questioned. His mother chuckled and smiled to at him, her beautiful purple lips upturned, her eyes, the same color-palette as Midnight's, shining at him.
"I have a gift for you, my darling," she said as she gingerly placed the bundle upright on the floor. Midnight bounced excitedly as she pulled the brown cloth away to reveal not some sort of toy but what appeared to be a baby, though it was the strangest looking baby Midnight had ever seen. It had bright pink skin and wispy yellow hair, except for the few bits that hung in her face that were a color Midnight had never seen before. For some reason, it reminded Midnight of the color his mother had described in her stories of the world of light, where things called trees had growths on them that, in a period called summer, shown with bright color she called "green." The baby's eyes shone as it looked at Midnight, and to his shock they were white balls with brown discs in the center. The baby seem to only have one iris in each eye! Midnight found this very strange, in addition to how chubby the baby's fingers were, and how her pink, drooling mouth had no teeth whatsoever. All that covered its pink little body was the brown cloth. He wondered why there were no shadows covering her skin, like the black patterns that covered his legs, waist, and most of his torso.
"What is it?" Midnight questioned after observing the strange little creature. The Queen chuckled again.
"Why, she's a baby girl, Midnight."
"But she looks funny…" he looked at his mother in confusion.
"That's because she isn't a Twili baby, sweetheart, she's a being of light." Midnight gasped as he realized that the little creature before him was one of the people who inhabited his mother's stories, she was from that other world. 'The world of light must be really strange' he thought to himself, looking at the cooing child once more. "She has no family of her own, so I decided to bring her home with me; she's your new little sister, Midnight. What do you think of that?"
A huge smile spread across his face. "A little sister? For me!" He grinned and nodded his head excitedly. "What's her name?"
"I thought maybe you, her big brother, should name her."
Midnight thought for a moment, looking over the baby's features, his eyes transfixed on the little wisps of green hair on her forehead. Suddenly, an idea came to mind.
"Faron!" he shouted with glee. "I'll call you Faron, like the forests in mother's stories!" His mother laughed softly.
"That's a lovely name, my dear."
"Hi, Faron," Midnight crouched to eye level with the baby. "I'm your big brother, Midnight! We are going to have lots of fun together! What do you think of your new name?"
The baby, Faron, stared at Midnight with a confused look on her face for a moment, before bursting into excited coos and giggles and crawling towards her brother, grabbing on to his shoulders. Midnight nearly fell over as she crawled on top of him, giggling like crazy.
"Ha ha! I think she likes me!" just then, Faron reached out and grabbed hold of the bright orange pony tail at the nape of Midnight's neck, the part of his hair that contrasted against the jet-black mop on top of his head. The baby gripped the glowing hair in between her chubby figures and yanked.
"OW! Ow! Ow! Stop that!" he gripped her by her shoulders and pulled her away, and she laughed hysterically, several strands of orange hair in her little grip.
Midnight began to chuckle himself as his mother laughed at the adorable scene. He looked once more at the happy little baby, and glanced at the hand that held his now separated hairs. He could not help but notice the patches of skin on the back of her hand that were a slightly darker pigment, in the shape of three perfect triangles.
