PROLOGUE
The horns thundered over the hills. All that rode or walked with the caravan stopped, heads craned toward the noise. Many gave whispered prayers to the Three that there was some mistake. But Sir Arnault knew the truth, they were discovered. Somehow the raiders knew what this caravan carried. But how? We'd been so careful. No one knew what lay hidden within his cart except himself and the queen. Not even his wife…
His wife.
He ran to his wagon, to see Banzetta standing and leaning out the front to get a better look over the hills toward the wailing horns. The reins in one hand, their son in the other. "Arn," she said as she saw him. "Is it them?"
"It must be," he pulled himself into the wagon, and pushed aside the boxes and supplies until he found his weapons and gathered his armor.
"They've never come this far East before. Not in our lifetime." She said as she laid their son in the bedding they used for a traveling crib. Gently hushing him as he whined from being away from his mother's warmth.
"They're here for-" Arnault's hands shook. He gave a vow of secrecy on Hylia and the Three. But shouldn't his wife get to know what had doomed them? "I don't have time to-"
Free of the child, Banzetta took his arming doublet and helped him put his arms through the mail sleeves. Leaving him to tie it in the front as she collected his cuirass. "I'll get the caravan to circle," she said as she strapped the pieces of his armor over his chest and back. "Mischa's wagon's the largest, I can prepare that one for the wounded."
"No. That won't-"
"Stop fidgeting," she said while tightening the straps along his side. "Let me get-"
"Banzetta, listen to me." He pulled her hands away from his armor and held them tight. "There is no time to circle the wagons or prepare for the wounded. Unharness our horses, put saddle to Sadie. She's our fastest. When our line breaks, take our son, and flee."
"Don't get lost in your fears. The line is not going to break. You will not let it break. You'll drive them off, then you will return to me as you have a hundred times-"
"Listen to the horns! They have not stopped. This isn't a skirmish, or a small raid. It's him." The babe screamed at his shouting.
"You can't know that."
"I do. I'm sorry, I thought- I didn't-" He lowered his eyes. How could he look at her when it was his decision to guard the Queen's relic and ride with the caravan. When it was his vow that may lead to the death of everyone he loved? "Please, leave everything else behind. Just the boy and our fastest horse, I beg you."
Her hand slipped out of his own. Her fingers reached under his chin and pulled his head up, forcing him to look into her eyes. Piercing and steel-blue, they always felt as though they could see into his soul, and they did not like what they found. For a moment, her eyes turned hard and sharp. "Then come with us. If the caravan is doomed there is nothing you can do. We have two horses."
"I can't."
"Of course, you can."
"I gave my word, I made a vow. I can't break it."
"Hang your vow! Hang whatever the queen and you plotted. You gave a vow to me as well. Is ours worth any less?"
Arnault pulled his wife into an embrace and kissed her. Trying to share all the passion he had for a lifetime with her into that single moment, that last final kiss. "No vow has ever been more important to me. I'll slow them down as best I can. I'll grant you as much time as I am able."
Rage and sorrow bled from those eyes as she pulled away from him. Her fingers went back to his side and the half-connected straps. "Let me finish, you never make it tight enough on your own."
She worked in silence, except for the horns and the baby's cries. Piece by piece, testing each to make certain it fit him perfectly. Only once finished did she hand him his helmet and returned to their child, bouncing him in her arms until his cries ended.
"I-" he needed to go. But he couldn't move. His wife stared at him, as she trembled holding in her heartbreak. And his son. He'd never get to know him. He touched the boy's head, wishing he could do so with his own fingers and not the rough leather of his gauntlets. No, I can't leave him with nothing to remember me by. He unstrapped his sidesword from his belt. Not much of a weapon, not a thick war sword or an elegant, ornamented blade so popular among the nobles of Castle Town. Just a simple weapon, well made, and well used. "Take this. To defend yourself, and when he is old enough. When-"
She took the sword. "You'll win," she whispered, though Arn could hear the lie in her voice. "You'll win, and you'll teach him how to use it. Promise me. Make me one more vow."
"I love you, that's the only vow I can give." He made his way out of the wagon and headed toward the hills. He dared not look back to see her again, lest his courage flee with her.
The men of the caravan stood before the wagons, with what passed for arms among them. They were traveling guards, some hired blades, and merchants prepared to defend their wares, not soldiers. They would not stand before what was coming. Still Arn did his best to form them into a semblance of a line. Putting those with the best armor and largest shields near the front. He took his place among them. "Hold firm, lads. For Hylia and the crown!"
His words did little to bolster them. Most paid him no heed, instead listening to the sound of the horns. Fewer now blared their warnings. Perhaps only three from the initial half dozen. Another horn silenced, as Arnault stared up the hills. His throat dry, his hand clenched around the pommel of his sword still resting in its sheath.
Another horn ended in a strangled cry. Then the last went silent, and all that could be heard was the thunder of hundreds of hooves.
The red-haired demonesses crested the nearest hill. Still a quarter mile away from the road, but near enough that Sir Arnault could make out the shapes of them. The Gerudo horde, the raiding women of the desert. For a hundred years they fought their war with Hyrule and her people. Their armor light, their spears, and arrows sharp. Their horses sturdy and bred for traveling long distances and surviving the heat of the desert and battle both.
"Goddess," one of the caravan guards muttered. "There's so many."
"Hold firm," Arnault said. "We are men of Hyrule, the blessed of Hylia. We will endure." But even he did not believe his idle platitudes.
"Are you blind? That's. That's-" the man's eyes bulged and his mouth hung open.
On the field a figure rose out from the rest of the horde. The sole male among them, barely old enough to be called a man, and yet he towered over all, Hylian and Gerudo alike. His name had already grown well beyond his years. Most trained knights forged in dozens of battles prayed they never met him in a test of arms.
The giant boy-king shouted a word in the Gerudo's cursed tongue and raised a massive black sword above his head. The horde raised their bows and started their song, a loud violent trill that echoed across the fields and rattled within Arn's helmet, droning out all other noise.
"Shields!" Arn tried to shout over them, though he knew not how many could hear him.
The black blade swung down and a wave of arrows filled the air.
Men screamed but their cries quickly grew lost among the rattling of darts puncturing wood and steel.
"Hold!" An arrow struck his pauldron and shattered, sending splinters at his neck and helmet.
Hot red liquid splashed over him as the man beside him fell to the ground. Arn grabbed the fallen man and pulled him beneath into the shadow his shield. But one good look at his face revealed the man was already dead.
When the barrage of arrows ended, Arn peaked out of his shield. The line of defenders already showed gaps. "Get close! We need to protect each other. Hold!"
Atop the hill the giant raised his sword again.
A shield rattled and thumped to the ground. Followed by a scream, as a man ran back toward the wagons.
"No! Fool! If you run that's the end. We need to hold!"
But words rarely stopped a breaking line. Once the first fled, others joined him. Another volley of arrows soared. More fell to the flying iron and wood, many who fled but more who tried to stand firm only to have the arrows find the ever-increasing gaps in the shield wall.
The Gerudo's song swelled and with a cry they raced down the hill toward them, bows abandoned, spears and swords rattling. What few men remained within the shield wall broke and fled, leaving Arn alone.
He roared his defiance as the Gerudo swarm descended, but his shout was swallowed by their song so even he could not hear it.
One Gerudo charged him, laughing as she lowered her spear. Arn waited until the spear was too close to reposition, before he jumped to the side. Placing his shield between him and the spearhead. He cleaved down with his sword. The blade took the rider's horse in the leg. It screeched as it flew forward into the dirt and threw its rider from her saddle.
Another spear came for him. With a gasp he met it with his shield, not creating a proper angle. The spearhead embedded itself into the wood and went deeper, bursting through the planks. Pressing against Arn's cuirass it knocked him off his feet. The wind forced from his lungs, he gasped and coughed. But he could still fight. He lurched to his knee and tried to push himself up with his shield. But it was that shield that weighed him down. When his eyes focused he groaned. The spear had cracked, half of it now jutting from the front of the shield. It'd be too awkward and heavy to use, and attempting to free it amidst a battle was sure to get him killed all the faster.
"Goddesses, for my wife and son." He dropped the shield and stood. Another Gerudo rode past, she must have thought him already dead or beaten as she left her side open to him. He lifted his blade and she died before even realizing her mistake.
Another shout rang through the battle, the warrior women pulled away from him. Instead riding past, into the wagons and the backs of those who fled before them.
"Pathetic," came a deep voice with a thick Gerudo accent. The one man among them stopped before Arn, but he spoke not to him, but the men still fleeing for their lives. "Nabooru, deal with the cowards."
A young woman – no, a girl, who looked no more than fifteen or sixteen – gave a wild grin and a battle cry before she rushed past Arn and began hacking into the caravan guards that abandoned their post.
The massive man dismounted his equally giant black steed and stood before Arn. Despite his thick black armor, the Gerudo King still looked lanky, as though he still had more to grow. But even now, Arn's helmet only came to his chin.
His yellow eyes roved around Arn, taking in his armor, weapons, his wounds, and the splatter of mud and blood. "Well met, knight of Hyrule."
Arn raised his sword. The monster would get nothing from him.
"Do you know who I am?"
"All the world knows you, King of Thieves."
The boy-king's eyes sharpened, though the rest of his face still bore a look of mild amusement. "Gerudo. I am King of the Gerudo." Then he smiled wide. "Though I suppose today I will actually earn that moniker. I am not here to kill you, Hylian. I only wish for the scrolls you carry. You fought bravely, put down your sword and no harm will come to you."
He was lying, he must be. You cannot trust a Gerudo, this one less than all the others. "I gave a holy oath to protect this caravan with my life. If you wish to take what it carries I will stop you."
"Heh," the king shrugged. "If that's the way you wish to die." He lifted his hand and the black blade appeared in his grip. The Sword of the Desert Kings, far too large and cumbersome for many to even lift, with magic runes etched along its face. The boy-king held it before him as though it were as well balanced as an arming sword, as light as a feather.
"For Hylia! For the Royal Family!" Arn charged. He swung his blade as fast as he could, but somehow the Gerudo parried every attack. A sword of that size should not be able to move that fast. And yet, the Gerudo looked bored as he brushed aside each of Arn's strokes.
"Die!" Arn screamed as he thrust with all his strength. Aiming toward the gap in the man's armor, praying to strike true.
The dark greatsword batted aside the thrust. In a single movement it aligned into a thrust of its own and took Arn in the chest. It gleamed black as it pierced the steel of his breastplate as easily as it pierced through his skin and bone.
"For the Gerudo," Ganondorf said. "And for myself."
Strength fled from Arn's legs. His knees hit the ground, his sword slipped through his fingers. Clutching at the arm of the man who killed him, he opened his mouth to scream, to cry, to beg his wife's forgiveness. But not even air came out.
Banzetta held her horse's reins tight with one hand while she clutched her child with the other. The wails of death and destruction followed close behind as she fled the caravan. She left behind rupees and food. And more important that that she abandoned men and women and children, many she grew to like over the last few days.
They were all gone.
Arn was gone.
She'd never see him again. She'd never again laugh at his terrible jokes. He'd never be there with a cocky grin and a strong embrace.
The child wiggled, and she held him all the tighter. "Please, Goddesses, please. Deliver us from here. Not for me, for my child." But where could she go? It was miles to a town with any chance of defending themselves against the Gerudo. The only place she could hide was only the Lost Woods. And no one dared enter there.
Pain burst through her side. She near fell from her horse as she gasped for a painful breath. An arrow jutted out of her, just below her arm.
"Hah!" a voice called from behind her. "Got you!"
She looked over her shoulder at the Gerudo raider, bow in hand, red hair flying about her like the flames of Din herself. Banzetta would never be able to fight her, not with her husband's sword, not with years of training. And even if she could, there were so many more of the desertfolk riding about butchering all they came across.
I'm going to die. My son is going to die.
Banzetta pulled on Sadie's reins and raced toward the forest and the shadows within.
The raider pursued, her smile widening as she rode closer and drew another arrow. "Weak and cowardly, all you people-"
The child in Banzetta's arm cried. She looked down, her blood covered his wrapping, turning the blue cloth as red as the Gerudo's hair.
"Oh," the raider said. When Banzetta looked up from her child her eyes met her attacker. She was young, a teenager by the look of her. Confused, as if she could not believe what she saw, perhaps even a bit scared. The Gerudo turned her bow aside and kicked her horse to move away, leaving Banzetta and her child behind.
"Thank you, Goddesses," she managed to gasp as Sadie ran the last of the way into the forest and away from the slaughter. A thick fog enveloped her, blinding her from anything more than a few feet away.
They did not make it far before Sadie grunted and reared, forcing Banzetta to clutch around her neck. The horse stomped, as Banzetta nudged her to go forward.
"Come on, girl," Banzetta pleaded. "We can't go anywhere else." But the horse refused to take another step into the darkness. "Move! Useless beast!" Her son cried. "No, no, no, hush. Stay quiet. I didn't mean it. I'm here, I'm here. Stay quiet." Blood continued to seep from her wound. There was nothing else to do. She could not go back, that way was death. But the stories of the Lost Woods and the fae hidden within meant death almost as certain. But what else could she do? A slim hope was better than none at all.
She dismounted, and no sooner had she touched the ground did Sadie run off, disappearing into the fog. Holding her son tight she made her way deeper into the dark.
A tree rustled behind her. Unsheathing Arn's sword she waved it toward the noise. But she saw nothing. Which way did she need to go? Which way did she come from? Her arms grew cold. She did not have much time left. Everyone who travels through the Kokiri Forest dies. Why had she thought it would be any different for her? "I'm sorry," she whispered to her child.
She turned around again, hoping to see something, anything that would show her the right way. Footsteps. Clanking of armor. Was it-
There. Barely visible through the darkness, a faint blue light shone. "Hello!" She called to the light.
Stumbling toward it, she near fell to her knees. Catching herself sent another shock of pain through her side. But she could not stop now. Using the sword to push aside the branches and clear a path. She tried to reach the light, but it whirled away as if moved by a breeze Banzetta was too numb to feel. Always out of her reach, down some hidden twisting path, but still urging her to follow. "I don't mean you harm. I'm looking for sanctuary."
Her voice was weak, and her arms felt weaker. "I seek the Guardian of the Forest. I… my grandmother told me stories as a child. Is this the way to him?"
The light did not respond, only swirling deeper and deeper. She followed, what else could she do?
Her legs grew heavier, and she could feel her heart strain with each beat. Struggling to keep her wounded body moving. Then the light flew high, in a direction Banzetta could not follow before it disappeared.
"I can't." Arn's sword slipped from her fingers. She tried to stay upright, took a few more steps forward, but her legs collapsed beneath her. She barely managed to twist and land on her shoulder, shielding the child from the fall. "I'm sorry," she said to the crying babe. There was no safety here. Only death. "I'm so sorry."
"Sorry?" A deep voice rumbled past her, shaking the very roots of trees. "I suppose thou hast good reason for sorrow, daughter of Hyrule."
Above her head a tree branch bent low, its leaves almost rubbing at her face. Perched on it appeared the blue light. But it was not alone, dozens of lights flew about the branch and into nearby trees. Some pink, some purple, or green. All twinkling as stars through the dark.
"Who?" She tried to say, though every word caused pain. "Who are you?"
"The one thou seekest, the Guardian of the Forest."
She made it. Her son had a chance, a slim one, but she would grab onto that chance and refuse to let go.
"The question remains," the booming voice continued, "why hast thou come? I decreed thy kind would never again step foot upon my lands. Never bring war to my children. I decreed entering my forest meant thy life was forfeit."
"I know," Banzetta gasped for air. "I did not come for myself. I'm already- But, my son. I- I offer him…"
"Thou makest an offering? A barter? Be that all thine own blood means to thee?" The words rumbled through the limbs of trees, shaking leaf and snapping twig. The shimmering lights went dark. "A bargain? A child's life for thine?"
"No," Banzetta closed her eyes, struggled to form the words that would change a heart encased in bark. "I want nothing from you. I only want him to live. Whatever wrong my people have done to you, he is innocent."
"Innocent?" The word cracked like a fallen tree. "Canst thou sense it? He is no innocent. The taint of violence and war already spread about him. Blood clingeth to him tigheter than his swaddling clothes."
"My blood, no one else's. Please, he's only a child."
"He is a weapon. One of the greatest and most terrible of this age. Forswear me not, daughter of Hyrule. Thy desires are laid bare, thou wish me keep it safe, until it grows strong enough to fight thy wars and spill the blood of those who fell thee."
A spindly leg touched Banzetta's calf. Her eyes could hardly open, and when they did she wished she did not see what was upon her. A pale skull, monstrous and misshapen, as large as her torso at least, crawled up her leg. It had spider's legs jutting from its body, and pincers where its jaw should be.
"I'm not- lying." She tried to hold her child tight, but her arms refused to move. "I only want him to live. Please have mercy on-"
"I am sorry, daughter of Hyrule. I cannot risk mine for yours. Never again."
No. She tried to beg, to scream, to ask how anyone could be so heartless. But the world was heartless, she knew that now. A heartless world full of heartless people. Why should the fae be any different?
The spider crawled up her stomach, its fangs rubbing together as it poised above her child.
"No," she managed to wheeze. With all strength she could muster she lifted her red drenched numb arm and placed it between the skull and her son. The creature did not seem to mind. It raised its fangs ready to plunge deep into her arm.
"Look at me," Banzetta tried to draw her crying child's eyes. If this was there end, let it not be one of pain. "Mother loves… It's all… going..."
"Enough," the winds cracked.
The spider stopped, hissing, it scuttled back off her and disappeared into the dark.
"I thought the wars and corruption turned all thy love to hate long ago. Very well, for the love of a fellow parent I shall take thy child. He shall be raised as mine own."
The blue light descended from the branch and landed on her head and whispered soft words Banzetta could not hear. Some small strength returned to her, not much, but enough for her to form words. "Thank you."
Vines dropped from the tree, surrounded her son, and pulled him from her arms. His eyes were open, so much like her own, and filled with tears just as hers were.
"Do not thank me. This is no mercy, his life will bring pain and death, sorrow and violence. It spreads from him even now, and I fear there is nought I can do to stop it."
"But he will live?"
"Yes, daughter of Hyrule. He will live."
"That's all I need." She watched until her son rise until he disappeared into the black fog and she could no longer hear his sobs, or were they her own? "I love you, Link. Your mother - will always-" There was so much more she wished to tell him, but her lips no longer moved and no air left her lungs.
Goodbye.
Author's Note: This is a retelling of Ocarina of Time, focusing on the themes I find most interesting rather more than directly matching every character and event perfectly. But I hope you enjoy.
Currently this story is going through a hiatus as I plan out the next segment of the story and edit the earlier chapters to a higher quality.