Ganondorf looked out from his carriage window, surveying the gloom and filth of the city. Outside, night had fallen, temporarily masking the shanties and decaying hovels that comprised the housing of Castle Town. The night's onset had also caused the hordes of filthy beggars and peasants to retreat back into their dens to cower and lick their wounds. So much the better – Ganondorf loathed the dirty and uncouth peasantry. Dealing with them was the job of his captains and soldiers: Ganondorf much preferred to stay in his castle, away from the sniveling and beggarly group that represented his subjects.

Letting out a growl, Ganondorf retreated from the window and relaxed in his seat, allowing his clenched fist relax. He had just returned from a long journey – a diplomatic mission with those accursed Terminians. The old alliances between the deposed Harkinian Royal family were still strong with Hyrule's neighbors to the east, and Termina's forces had blocked off several eastern trading routes and were massing contingents of cavalry and infantry on the borders. Truthfully, these warlike actions had little effect on Ganondorf: the mayor of Termina was a coward, and with his death, the disorganized rabble that comprised their military would break. Aveil and a small unit of the elite Gerudo had already been dispatched days ago to assassinate the Terminian.

The usurper king smiled to himself, his carefully laid plans coming to fruition in his constantly scheming mind. Hyrule was already under his control – perhaps, soon, Termina would come under his iron reign as well.

The issue of the missing Crown Princess still weighed heavily in the back of his mind, but Ganondorf was beginning to believe in the assertions made by Koume and Kotake that Harkinian's daughter was long dead. Harkinian would have entrusted his daughter only to a family in the aristocracy, and Ganondorf had carefully ensured that any suspected nobles had been executed. It was unlikely that the Princess, if she was even alive, had survived his purges.

And if she was alive, she would have to be an utter fool to reveal herself to him. His Gerudo had never missed a target yet.

There was a faint tapping at his carriage window, breaking Ganondorf out of his thoughts. Annoyed, he opened his eyes and glared outside: one of his Royal Guards, mounted atop a black Gerudo stallion, was seeking his attention.

"What is it?" Ganondorf called, his ire perked. The guard recoiled, as if afraid his liege would reach out and strike him.

"Milord," the guard replied, inclining his head. "We're ten minutes away from the castle. However…"

"What is it?" Ganondorf sighed, already annoyed by the man's babbling.

"The captain thinks that it's a bit suspicious," the guard said hesitantly, reigning in his neighing horse, "that there are no patrols out in this part of the town. He is requesting permission to re-route through another part of the city."

Truthfully, the revelation did little to impress Ganondorf – in fact, he would have expected nothing less from his drunken, brutish troops to skirt their patrol duties. Still, to appease the guard, Ganondorf sighed and refrained from hitting the man.

"Tell the captain that we proceed as normal. I fully trust that he will protect me in case of an attack."

The guard saluted, retreating from the carriage window to pass along the orders. Ganondorf looked out from his carriage window, vaguely making out the shapes of his Royal Guards that were escorting their liege. Maybe he needed some new blood in the Royal Guard – the current crop had remained largely homogenous the past few years, and Ganondorf suspected that they were growing complacent in their positions of favor. He needed to keep his soldiers fearful of his authority – and right now, they weren't nearly enough.

As Ganondorf reclined in his plush carriage seat, the entire vehicle came to a stop, jolting Ganondorf forwards. Growling in anger, he stood up from his seat and craned his head to get a look at his driver, who was slumped in the seat. The horses were neighing loudly – the Royal Guard were holding positions in confusion.

"What is the matter?" Ganondorf said in mounting anger. All he wanted was to return to the castle and rest after a strenuous trip. He could not tolerate much more incompetence from his subordinates. "Driver, answer your king!"

He opened the carriage door, intending to personally cut down the driver with his sword. He jumped to the ground and walked to the driver, growling in fury. With a vicious motion, he grabbed the driver's shoulder and forced the man to face him.

"What are you…"

Ganondorf's dire threats stopped as soon as he realized the driver was not taking in any of his words: the man's eyes had rolled up in his head, mouth opened slackly. A trickle of blood ran from his mouth and down his chin. Ganondorf's eyes followed the trail of blood down from the man's tunic front and to the arrow that quivered in his chest.

As soon as the full realization of the situation hit him, Ganondorf felt a jarring impact in his back as something buried itself in his heavy plate armor. It took him another second to understand fully that his life was in danger.

"Guard, protect your king!" he bellowed, keeping his head down as he retreated to the relative safety of the carriage. Immediately, shouts broke out amongst his men as they dismounted from their horses to protect their lord. The confusion was evident in their voices as they assembled a meager wall of protection – obviously, they had no idea where the attacker was.

Ganondorf leapt into the carriage, slamming the door shut behind him. His captain approached the side door, shouting something –

And then the captain fell against the carriage window, his agonized face pressed sickly against the glass. An arrow protruded firmly from his back, and he clutched at the door handle, trying to open it.

"Idiot! You'll expose me!" Ganondorf fumed, keeping the doors firmly locked. The captain faintly scrabbled at the glass window with his hands, begging, before he slowly slid to the ground, obviously dead. Ganondorf returned his attention back to the guards outside: they had formed a circle around the carriage, shields and spears raised. Each of his men positively radiated fear and uncertainty. They were under attack from a foe they could not see, much less fight; for a second, they remained in their positions, unwilling to move.

An arrow flew out from the darkness, embedding itself firmly in the chest of another Royal Guard, who keened over with a violent cry and started thrashing upon the filthy floor. Shouts rang out amongst the men, their formation breaking along with their nerves.

"The arrows came from the left!"

"No – the right!"

"Bows! We need bows!"

Some of his guard were equipped with metal crossbows. They fired blindly into the darkness, the bowstrings twanging like a singing choir. They reloaded, firing again. And again. After another volley, the Royal Guard waited with bated breath, gripping their weapons and shields in sweat-slicked hands.

"All clear!" one of the guards shouted, standing up and lowering his shield. An arrow pierced his jugular a moment later, and the man went down clutching at his bleeding neck, gurgling all the while.

Immediately, the crossbow guards returned fire from where the arrow had come from. Five crossbows twanged, sending the steel-tipped bolts screaming into the darkness.

"Get this carriage moving!" Ganondorf snarled, as soon as a second volley was fired.

The Royal Guard, obviously more than willing to abandon the fight against their unknown enemy, broke ranks and positively fled back towards the castle. One of them leapt atop the carriage and shoved the dead driver out of his seat, whipping the horses into motion.

With a jolt, the carriage started off, the wooden wheels bouncing roughly off of the cobblestone roads. Ganondorf stared out of his window – the majority of his Royal Guard had mounted their horses and were following alongside him, but a few were running on foot.

Grimacing, Ganondorf grabbed the wooden shaft that had penetrated the back of his armor and pulled hard. With a crack, the wooden arrow broke off, the metal head still resting in his breastplate. Ganondorf looked at the splintered arrow shaft he held in his hands, breathing heavily.

It took him a second to realize that an emotion was flooding his mind like a drug, an emotion he hadn't felt in many years.

Fear.

An ugly grimace on his face, Ganondorf roared and threw the splintered arrow shaft down at his feet and viciously stamped at the projectile.

The great Lord Ganondorf, almost brought to an ignominious death by a lone bowman.

The very thought of his weakness appalled him, set his very soul aghast. He would get no rest tonight, no respite. As soon as he returned to the castle, he would seek out Koume and Kotake for their counsel.

Until tonight, he had thought that no one had the brazen courage to attack his troops, much less his own self. He would not rest until this man had been flushed out and brought to him.

So much the better, Ganondorf thought. My Gerudo need some real sport to hunt.


Link stumbled through the darkened alley, his breathing coming in short, harried gasps. He was walking with a noticeable limp – a crossbow bolt had lodged itself in his left leg. Judging by the amount of blood that soaked his white leggings, Link grimly figured that the wound was more serious than he had first thought.

He was still miles away from the Hylia estate – the only secure place he could rest and heal his wounds. And after his failed ambush, Ganondorf's guards would be swarming all over the area, searching for him.

Link gasped as his wounded leg gave out beneath his weight, sending him toppling to the grimy alley floor. He landed face down into the much, his tunic and hands now smeared with filth and blood. Groaning, he pulled himself to a wall, dragging his body on the ground as best he could with his useless leg. The adrenaline in his veins was still dulling most of the pain, but as Link poked his wound gingerly, a searing pain shot up his body, and he released an involuntary cry.

Goddesses damn it, he thought furiously, trying to muster up the courage to pry the crossbow bolt from his leg. Lucky shooting, that was it. I had him...

With trembling fingers, Link gripped the end of the bolt that had hooked deeply into his flesh. He tried to slowly ease it out, but the steel bolt head remained firmly in his bloody wound as if it was stuck on something. He tugged again, only causing another shock of pain throughout his body. Link grit his teeth, pulling again – to no avail: the bolt was still stuck, and if anything, it seemed that his efforts had only exacerbated the bleeding. Link howled as a wave of pain shot through his body.

"Who's there?" a voice called out, from his left. Link's heart immediately stopped, his breath catching in his throat. Had Ganondorf's guards found him already? Ignoring the flaring pain in his leg, he grabbed his longbow and tried to fit an arrow to the string. His bloodied hands were shaking terribly and the arrow slipped in his grip – it clattered loudly on the ground. Swearing, Link scrabbled at the arrow, his bloody hands unable to give him a grip…

"Who's there?" the voice demanded again, uncertainly, and a light suddenly shone out in the darkness. Link instinctively cringed against the wall, the shadows that had covered him now dissipating in the torchlight. He dropped his bow, deftly drawing the dagger that he kept hidden in his belt. Even if he was crippled and bleeding to death, Ganondorf's troops would not take him easily…

The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, and a shadow cast by the light was projected onto the alley wall. A lone man, carrying a torch in one hand and a cane in the other as he stumped towards Link.

"Oh Goddesses," the man murmured, upon catching sight of Link. "What happened to you, son?"

Link smiled faintly, his vision blurring in and out of focus. The man seemed familiar, although Link couldn't quite place it... had they met before?

"Where are you wounded?" the man asked, dropping down to his knees and examining Link's bloodied legs and hands.

"Left leg," Link moaned faintly, his body devoid of energy. "Crossbow bolt."

"I see it," the man murmured, touching the quivering bolt. Link's leg jerked involuntarily.

"Can… can you help me?" Link asked faintly, his vision already starting to fade out. The man chuckled, his voice oddly reassuring.

"Don't worry, Sir Hylia," he replied, lifting Link up with a surprising amount of strength. "The Goddesses will see you through tonight."


"Link."

He turned around, looking for the voice's owner. It was a soft, melodious tone, oddly familiar – he knew that voice. He took a step forward onto the hard floor, his footsteps causing echoes to ripple throughout the oddly empty area.

"Link."

"Where are you?" he asked desperately, addressing nothing in particular. Every way he turned, a foggy mist greeted his eyes, masking his surroundings. "Who are you?"

Miraculously, the mists cleared at his words, revealing a small, cramped room, filled with dusty tomes and desks trembling beneath the weight of books. The library. He slowly approached a table, upon which sat the book Ancient Legends of Hyrule.

As soon as he touched the leathery pages of the tome, a shock ran through his body – he looked up sharply, and there stood Zelda, dressed in a simple white dress that seemed to radiate an inner light. Upon her fair head she wore a circlet bejeweled with precious gems, but her cheeks glittered with crystalline tears. She was trembling slightly, her body wracked with small sobs.

"Zelda?" he asked, leaving the book and approaching her. At once, she turned and glided away from him like a ghost, the hem of her white dress trailing on the floor. He followed her, hand outstretched…

She turned away from him, leaving the library through the open doors. He ran after her, his heart pumping and mind awash with curiosity. Outside the library, it took him several seconds to find her – she was gliding, silent and wraithlike, to his left, approaching the heavy wooden doors of the master bedroom – his quarters. Effortlessly, she pushed open the doors, looking back at him once, as if to beckon him towards her.

He jogged after her, his movements feeling oddly jerky and sloppy compared to her graceful and elegant motions. She watched him blankly, before disappearing into his room as soon as he came within arms' reach.

"Zelda!" he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the empty manor with an odd, transient quality to it. He entered his room, which was completely dark with the exception of a single candle burning on the table next to his bed. Zelda was nowhere to be seen.

"Zelda?" he muttered uncertainly, entering the room. Cautiously, he approached the bed, pushing away the curtains and drapes from it. She was lying still on the bed, hands clasped to her chest and her face alabaster.

Kneeling next to her, he held one of her hands – stone cold. Fear suddenly crept into his heart as he peered at her face – so beautiful, so pure, so cold. Her tears had dried, her eyes had closed. Her red lips were parted ever so slightly, but no breath came or entered from them – a rising sense of panic began to overcome Link.

"Zelda?" he muttered, shaking her gently. "Zelda?"

He placed his hand on her heart, to feel for a beat, a sign of life – but instead, he felt something wet, oddly disconcerting. He glanced down at his hand – he had submersed his hand in a pool of blood.

He gasped and withdrew his hand as the pool of crimson continued to spread over the white dress Zelda wore, blossoming sickly over her fair body. Link gazed in horror at his blood soaked hands, then down upon her body, which was nearly bathed in blood.

"Oh Goddesses!" he cried, as blood began to trickle from her mouth and nose. "Zelda! Zelda!"

And as soon as he reached out to touch her, she disappeared, leaving a pool of blood in her wake. Link sobbed, his tears falling thickly onto the bed – but to his horror, his tears were made of blood, droplets of crimson and red.

"Protect her… our princess…"

"I tried!" Link cried, pounding his fists upon the bed that Zelda had occupied only a moment before. "I tried! I couldn't!"

The sound of mocking laughter came to his ears, echoing throughout the empty chamber. The laughter was sinister, deep – it pierced Link's very soul like an arrow.

"You cannot protect her… not from me… HERO."

With a shout, Link shot up, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. His muscles were shaking uncontrollably and sweat ran down his face in torrents.

"Zelda," he gasped, his heart trembling in terror. "Zelda…"

"Who's Zelda?"

Link jumped, only for a spasm of pain to shoot up his left leg. There came a soft tut of disapproval from somewhere to his left.

"You know, you shouldn't be doing any more to damage that leg. It took my last bottle of red potion to stop the bleeding."

An old man sat down next to him, throwing him a small, dirty towel. Link picked it up gingerly, watching the other man carefully.

"Go ahead," the man said, gesturing towards the rag. "Wipe your face. You're sweating rivers."

Slowly, Link took the towel and wiped the side of his sweaty face, keeping his eyes fixed on the other man all the while. The man only smiled politely, his front teeth missing and exposing his fleshy gums.

"Rauru?" Link asked hesitantly, finishing with the rag and handing it back to the old man. The man nodded, taking his rag back and tossing it aside.

"I'm surprised that you still remember my name," Rauru chuckled. "Most nobles wouldn't bother to remember such a trivial fact."

The old man stood up and hobbled away to retrieve something from his desk. Link took the time to examine his surroundings – a small hovel, smaller than the library in his manor. The floor was made of earth and dirt, and he occupied the only bed in the room – a dirty, torn up mattress that was lacking most of its insides.

Rauru returned, a small flask held in his wizened hands. "Drink up, Sir Hylia."

Link took the flask and, after a moment of hesitation, drank its contents. Not potion or poison, but wine – surprisingly well aged.

"It's not often that I have a guest," Rauru explained, watching Link closely. "Especially one of such... high caliber."

"I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not," Link replied, "but I thank you for your help regardless."

"Spoken like a true knight and noble," Rauru said, checking on Link's leg wound. The wound was wrapped tightly with a roll of bloody rags. "I wasn't able to remove the crossbow bolt; I've got no proper tools, and my hands aren't deft enough to coax it out."

Link exhaled softly, gently applying some pressure to his left leg. It still throbbed dully, but at least he wasn't bleeding so severely anymore. He slowly rested himself back onto the bed, his mind burning not so much with pain, but with curiosity.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked. Rauru, who was humming softly, raised an eyebrow.

"Do what?"

"Save me," Link explained. "I thought… well, most nobles aren't exactly fond of the average Hylian. Seems to me that you would think the same way about us."

"We're all Hylian, aren't we? Class distinctions aside, I reckon my blood is worth about as much as yours, so that makes us equals, don't it?"

Link nodded. Rauru smiled his toothless grin and continued.

"Besides, that time I met you in the town square – you didn't seem as arrogant or pompous as some other nobles. If Zant was in your place tonight, he wouldn't have been so lucky…"

Rauru paused, glancing at Link's wound, then back at his face. "Speaking of which, what were you doing that nearly got you killed?"

"That's my business," Link said casually, not trying to offend Rauru. "Sorry."

The old man shrugged, getting to his feet with a groan and hobbling back to his desk. "Figured I might ask, anyways."

Link watched Rauru rummage around for something on the desk, which possessed an odd assortment of items – moldy bread and cheese, empty bottles, several dusty tomes, and some rags which passed as clothing.

"Where are we?" Link asked, as Rauru found a small slice of relatively clean bread and returned to his bed.

"Not far from where I found you," the old man answered, offering half of the bread to Link. The young knight took it gratefully, biting into the stale food with hunger. "I was trying to sleep when I heard someone screaming bloody murder. That's when I found you."

Link flushed faintly. "I wasn't screaming that loudly, was I?"

Rauru grinned. "I'm partially deaf, son. You'd have to be pretty loud for me to hear."

"Did… anyone else hear?"

"I imagine so. Couple of Ganondorf's soldiers came poking around the area a few hours ago. You done something to warrant the crown's interest, have you?"

"Haven't we all?" Link replied evasively.

"I suppose you're right, but none of us would admit to it," Rauru shrugged. "Still, your secret, whatever it is, is safe with me."

As he finished speaking, the rotting wooden door to the small hovel banged open, creaking on its rusty hinges. A man, dressed in the unmistakable armor and heraldry of one of Ganondorf's guards, stepped inside, removing his helmet as he placed his spear on the ground.

Link instantly stiffened, fumbling for his dagger, but Rauru held his arm steady. He addressed the soldier warmly, as if they were familiar acquaintances.

"Viscen. We've got a visitor tonight."

The solider paused in removing his breastplate, looking up at Rauru and then to Link. If he was at all confused, he hid it well – his haggard face broke out into a tired smile.

"How are you?" Viscen asked, walking over to Link's side and offering a hand. Link hesitated, before shaking the guard's hand.

"Viscen is my son," Rauru explained, as the young guard walked over to the desk and picked up a hunk of moldy cheese. "He's a castle guard, but you needn't worry – he's one of the good ones."

"I like to think that, anyways," Viscen added, picking out bits of mold from his cheese. "These are rough times – a man has to do what he can to help his family. I'm sure you understand that, mister…?"

"Hylia," Link replied automatically. "I'm Link Hylia."

"Link," Viscen repeated thoughtfully, taking a small bite from the cheese and pulling a sour face. "What brings you to our humble abode this night?"

"Necessity," Link laughed humorlessly, gesturing to his bandaged wound.

"The lad took a crossbow bolt to his left leg," Rauru added.

Viscen paused in his eating, eyeing Link with renewed interest. "That's curious."

"I thought that too," Rauru continued, obviously not catching on to his son's tone. "But Sir Hylia won't tell me what he was up to."

"Oh, so you're a noble?" Viscen asked, registering Link's title of Sir. "Odd place for you to be this time of night."

"So I've heard," Link muttered, flashing a look at Rauru. Both Viscen and Rauru laughed.

"Well, where do you live, Sir Hylia?"

"Oddly enough, the Hylia estate," Link replied, slightly annoyed now by their continual jests at his class.

"No offense meant, Link," Viscen laughed, throwing away the last bits of cheese in evident disgust. "But that's a long ways away. Would you mind staying the night, or should I escort you back to your manor?"

"He's staying the night, of course," Rauru interjected. "Really, Viscen, how can you expect our guest to walk with his leg so badly wounded?"

Viscen shrugged, taking a large rag from the desk and spreading it on the ground. He removed his boots and shirt, lying down on the makeshift bed and yawning. "I've no problem with it, father. As you said, it's not often we get visitors."

"Are you comfortable, Sir Hylia?" Rauru asked, looking over Link's leg wound one last time.

"I'm fine, thanks," Link replied. "And you don't have to address me as sir. I thought you said we were all equals?"

"Proper courtesy," Rauru shrugged. The old man went to the desk and pulled out another filthy blanket, spreading it onto the ground similarly as Viscen.

"Thank you," Link said, as Rauru eased himself onto the ground. The old man only grunted in acknowledgement, blowing out the sole candle that lighted the room.

"Pleasant dreams, Link," Rauru wheezed, from somewhere in the dark. "May they be better than mine."