Teh Luna's Zelda Fics, W00t~!

Hey all! I've got a couple of Zelda fics I'd like to share, the first being an incomplete story I wrote to focus on the events in her life after Ocarina of Time and leading up to the Wind Waker (keep in mind I wrote this a couple of years ago, when we didn't know much about TP). But the introduction is all about how Link affected Zelda during the course of OOT, and the first chapter centralizes around Link and Zelda in the time they spent together right before MM. *fluff warning*.

DEEP BLUE
By Luna-Nayru

Introduction

The powers of the Goddess Din were inevitable to me. Thus, I never underestimated him for a fleeting moment, never broke the dangerous, violent collision of the deepest indigo eyes, and the golden, cat-like opposition, his eyes seeming to charge like heartless warriors at mine. I never spoke a word to him. I never spat the hatred, disgust, which was building in the troubled heart of a princess who loved her country too much to let the flaming inferno in his eyes engulf it. And I could not see the reflection of the fierce, inextinguishable glare that resonated from my face, in those eyes that showed me the reflection of my country in ruin like a poisonous river one could not dare to look into. The moment I looked into those eyes, I knew, though he contained it well from my father, of the destruction that hungered to unleash from within him. They were eyes with a lust for superiority, for power. Evil eyes.

Those eyes were the emblems of ruin for me, haunting me with their almost alluring presence that seemed to lightly brush across my spine with that devilish grin of malice every time I dared to let his intentions slip my mind. Paranoia would wrench me by the shoulders and shake me awake each night, as a shriek of terror would escape my lips with the revelation that my concentration upon him had wavered. I refused to let myself rest until I knew he had departed from my home, banished from my beloved Hyrule, and would never return. I would let myself sink to the floor in the darkest corner of my bedroom, where he could not see me, where he could not harm me, with my knees clutched to my chest as I wept softly, trembling, knowing he had reduced me to a coward. Nothing. A child. It was remarkable how one man could force the princess of Hyrule to just…

Sink.

When he stood in my presence, so towering and looming that I nearly felt myself shrivel beneath him, the beauty of the world I had always believed in, always loved and cherished, and all the stunning, vibrant colors that painted the picture of my cheer, seemed to drain into the inferno of his eyes as he let my happiness, my joy, my bravery…he let them burn. The malicious lust for glory that gleamed as a spark of knowing tragic secrets told me, its voice smooth and alluring, that he wanted me dead. He wanted me to suffer. And he knew that taking away the sanity I took pride in, then to take away my kingdom, and finally my life, was the most painful way to do it. Beautiful golden colors like the sun and the perfectly decorated wings of a beautiful butterfly had been reduced to nothing, and the tint of the sun and autumn leaves that had brightened my spirits throughout my life merged into my pain, my horror…the vibrant yellow color had become nothing to me, and looking to it only reminded me of those eyes.

That was his plan all along, I realized, cursing myself for my stupidity, my naivety, faced with the regret of my mistakes in being so blind while falling limply into his trap. He had been arranging this scheme, and his tactics were much direr than I had expected. I had been an obstacle; standing with audacity and a head high above anything he could send my way, a young girl with the pride of a thousand men. He had worked tirelessly to wear down my confidence. And he had succeeded in inflicting wounds that would never heal. He had taken away my happiness. Stolen it…all in one look. He had released his will in a way as violent and abrupt as the striking fangs of a serpent, yet still in a way that had slithered beyond my ability to defend myself before he could fire, and thrown my contentment careening into the incinerators of those infernal, evil eyes.

Though the joy of life I had once treasured had been sapped from within me, I knew I could never have it back. I wanted to smile again. I wanted to laugh. But my heart was seized with pain and my cheeks would burn, sore and worn by the evil powers that had infected me, that had crawled into my heart and wrenched my happiness away, every time I made an attempt to force a smile. My light had been taken away. Engulfed by evil. I could feel nothing but darkness as my will slowly suffocated within it.

I slept that evening. And my weak, throbbing body was thankful for a rest, seeming to give in to the warmth of my own bed and sink into the plush pillows that embraced me. But no sooner had I fallen asleep…there he was. I could never escape him. I could never escape the darkness. I could only watch in horror—clouds. Black, smog-like clouds, billowing over my land, sweeping to the ground in an evil fog, knocking my people to the ground with gusts of fatal wind. Villages in flames reflected in my eyes, burning the tears and bringing a painful sting to my heart. And I watched as a cyclone of crying wind ripped through the peace of Hyrule, tearing apart the homes of the innocent, collecting their screams in its horrible, ear shattering shriek that drew closer, closer to me, carrying the suffering of my people, coming for mine. I clenched my eyes shut tightly, tears streaming down my battered cheeks as I shielded my face with a weak, weary arm.

And then…

There was silence. Light. I could feel it. It filled me with a sense of wholeness again. I was alive. I lowered my arm, just so I could see it again, to feel it. I opened my eyes.

There he was.

I knew it the moment I saw him. Light seemed to resonate from the green clothing he wore as he stood in an enormous ray of sunshine that had ripped through the clouds, engulfed in it. He was a part of the sun that comforted me, just as the evil had been with the shadows, standing there. Smiling at me. I felt unworthy of such a beautiful smile, a smile that said all the words I wanted to hear. It was a smile that metamorphosed into his every movement. He was speaking, and I could not hear the words he uttered. But I didn’t have to hear his last words, as his arm of light extended to mine. There was that smile, as he spoke words I could not hear, while I understood in a way I had never felt before.

“I’ll protect you.”

I found myself slightly afraid to touch his hand, something so pure, so amazing, I was afraid I would destroy it with the simple contact of another being. But I was drawn to it. It pulsated in the freedom I hungered for, the joy I had been deprived of for what seemed like an eternity, and I could not contain myself. I reached outward, my frail fingers delicately touching his outstretched palm. A rush of strength bolted through me, bringing me to life, giving me will, happiness… everything that Ganondorf Dragmire had taken away. I closed my eyes, feeling my face flush, as the tears that had formed reemerged in tears of joy. I knew him, in one touch I knew he was the light that would fight through darkness, I knew. His name…I was sure I knew it. But somehow, I could not remember who he was, or why he was here. I opened my eyes, longing to ask him…

And awakened.



Chapter 1
Courage

I struggled to clutch the frilled, dense petticoats that lined the royal dress I wore, a color of the deepest, most rich and bright blue I could find, now slightly worn and scuffed with mud and grass prints as reminders that I had lost my balance, while stumbling forth in a vain attempt to run after the eleven-year-old boy dragging me by the hand. Strands of my blonde hair whipped and tousled with the wind that nearly lifted me off my feet as it impacted with my soaring heart, and the blue ribbons that fastened my hair into a ponytail protruding from the back of my head intermingled with the golden, curled locks that the summer breeze was desperate to straighten. I shielded my eyes from the sun, releasing a slight laugh at the fleeting feeling of freedom that sprung wildly in my chest as if my heart were leaping into the air.

I managed to speak through my breaths, panting at the exhaustion of running to a place he was doing a wonderful job at keeping secret from me, and from all the laughter and joy this outing had ironically brought into my heart. “Link!” I breathed, letting my laughter run free after I uttered his name, while making a desperate attempt to keep up with the little rogue I had grown to call my best friend, “Link, where are we going?”

He turned to me with a small glint in his smiling eyes, a little sparkle that told me I was in for a surprise that would blow my mind, “Where the wind takes us!” He shouted over the airstream’s blasting current, laughing as he continued to dash at full speed to a place I could only imagine with his warm fingers woven into mine, sending a surge of luminosity from his fingertips to mine, just as he always had.

Not a soul would have guessed, even if they looked into the deepest, most forgotten and uncovered corners of our hearts, that we had lived seven years beyond our ages. No one would ever assume, in their wildest dreams, that the pair of naďve dreamers that dashed across the Hyrulean plains had lived for eighteen trying years. We were adults, two heroes, blessings in disguise that had gone through the seventh sanctum of the underworld for our country…and each other. The pace of my heartbeat would double as the memories returned to haunt me, foggy visions of darkness, peril…my nightmares come true. It was almost as if he were back, or casting the pain, the destruction of my will to live, upon me all over again, that sense of paranoia returning every time the immortal memories of a time that shouldn’t have been returned to me. He was doing this; he was forcing every last person in my beloved Hyrule to remember their pain, their loss. Some even remembered the terror of what it was to die. And it was his fault. Ganondorf. I knew he was alive in that realm of evil he had battered, tainted with his foulness, destroyed with his unholy presence…

Link always told me to spit when I thought of him.

It was as if he heard my thoughts at that instant, as that perfectly crafted face, that resonating grin that crept across his lips suddenly appearing over his shoulder as he restrained himself to a walk, his breaths long and unstable from the remarkable pace of our run that had nearly sent us winging away. He spoke to me in a voice that had shown me a thousand emotions before, terror, rage, joy, love... But here, now, I was grateful to hear the tone that seemed to part the darkness of my worries all over again. He spoke to me as a friend, a child, with the cheer and determination I had recognized the first time I heard his voice. Everything about him seemed so bold, so ready to accept whatever it was that his future would set before him. Farore had created him as the epitome of her children’s purpose, I always knew, and felt the thrill of his resonating courage required to live each day to its fullest. “Hey, don’t give up yet. We’re almost home.”

His phrase struck me as unusual, and I could not help but question his choice of words. “Home?” I tilted my head slightly as my brow furrowed, my tight, comforted grip upon his hand falling slightly limp with uncertainty as my strength and attention veered into comprehending what he had just told me. His expression, with one corner of his mouth tilted toward the ground, eyes following with guilt plastered across his face, told me everything I needed to know. I tugged at his hand as he made the attempt to turn away, feeling my heart dance in anticipation, wondering where he was taking me. “Please, Link…” I released a small breath, and even I could not tell myself whether I was feigning a laugh, or feigning a sigh. But I felt the small laugh, my exhilaration beginning to show through, merge with my words, “Come on, please tell me what’s going on…” I realized my violet eyes had been begging for pity all along, just by looking at his face. His expression was filled to the brim with sympathy, with his own cerulean eyes seeming to imitate mine in a subconsciously, and his lip slightly protruding from the one above it.

He had never failed to deliver a surprise to lift my spirits, and I never underestimated his ability to bring a smile, a laugh, to my face. I knew him too well. He was Link. He was my hero. I released a giggle as he threw his arms into the air in defeat, standing, legs spread in parallel to his arms, in the middle of wide-open southeast Hyrule. “She’s too good, Farore!” He screamed to the heavens, hands resting on his hips as he regained his composure, still shouting for advice from his guardian Goddess. “What do you say? Do I tell her?”

A rush of the refreshing summer breeze, seeming to whisper as it passed us by, tousled his hair and tugged at the tip of his forest green cap as he laughed out loud.

I smiled knowingly, hands clasped at my back, and decided to join in the game, “And what did she tell you, Link?”

And there was that green devil’s grin again, mischief written thousands of times over across his entire body. He allowed a hand to rest in the pocket of his tattered green tunic, while the other stood guard upon his hip, as he leaned toward me, “She says…that you’re just gonna have to be patient, Princess.”

I managed to show a twisted frown, confused by his choice of words yet again. But before I had an instant to ponder the idea of my best friend addressing me formally, he had seized my hand yet again and took off running. I released a cry of shock, stumbling slightly, thrusting my hand forward to break my fall as I winced to prepare for the impact of the dusty ground scraping against my flesh.

But the rush of air that passed me as I fell, the squirming of my heart as if trying to resist the gravity pushing us down, suddenly came to an abrupt stop as my eyes snapped open, gasping with the sudden salvation’s force. I looked to my outstretched hand, wondering how I could have missed my best friend’s fingers woven into all ten of mine. I could do nothing but stare at our hands in disbelief, frozen, trembling slightly. But I regained my composure, still clutching both of his hands as I let his warmth fill me, spreading from my fingertips, as wings seemed to sprout from my heart and fill my insides. He had saved me countless times. And now he had surprised me again.

I turned to look at his face, a warm smile across his lips that spread contagiously to mine. I opened my mouth to speak, wanting to thank him for catching me when I made a mistake, but found myself frozen before him again. My senses returned to me as I spoke softly, “Just…Zelda, please.”

I nearly released a sigh as the warmth of his hand broke away from my right. But the light of his smile and his right hand clutching my left was enough to warm my heart through a winter storm. “All right, then, Zelda,” Stunningly, he pried apart the brush and vines that barred the edge of the forest, unveiling a large, hollow log that lead to the most wonderful place I had ever laid eyes on. “We’re here.”

Pale streaks of amber and gold and drops of lavender had begun to stroke the sky with a small brush of dusk, while the shining, endless shade of whitened cobalt of the Hyrulean sky still lingered as a memento of the bright, beautiful day in July that had only begun to flutter away. Clouds had dipped their feet into the pale orange sky that had begun to appear, an amber and violet light comforting the worn edges of daylight’s fog as the clouds became as one with the appearing sunset. And the beauty of the sky in Kokiri Forest was no match for the village, tinted with the gold and amber of the heavens, as the fays pranced and fluttered in their games, trailing in groups like a chain of fireflies, or winged candles that would not harm a soul. And as I looked about, searching carefully, I could see the traces of small children, dressed in the green of fields that seemed to merge as one with the forest, playing, working, or simply lying on the ground to watch the clouds roll by into the evening. I watched in wonder as a waterfall, reflecting the warm skies above, trickled into a pond below and coated the swimming children in the fresh, clean water, as they giggled and hurled masses of scum and mud into each other’s faces. And as I stood, dressed in golden jewelry and armor embedded with gems that nearly dragged me to the ground, decorated like a treasured piece of furniture in my stifling, frilled dress, my envy for them, my longing to be like them, to be free to do as I pleased, grew stronger.

I was suddenly alerted to attention by the scream of my best friend, who yanked away from my hand suddenly and dashed toward the pond. It was then that I heard the shrieks of a little girl, dashing toward him while drenched in water and muck, with open arms and a gigantic smile as they bawled like banshees. He scooped up the little girl, green hair passing the length of her chin and held away from her face with a bandana of tree leaves and dressed in a forest green jumper, a brown apron adorned with the red symbol of the Kokiri tied about her waist and arms printed with the black symbol and the obvious pressing of inked leaves. The little girl’s dark green boots flailed wildly as Link swung her about in the air. I recognized her instantly by the laugh of a ten-year-old girl who had lived for 400 years. Saria.

Link carried her in my direction, both still laughing hysterically and neither seeming to care that they had been printed with mud. Saria, though hundreds of years beyond his age, stood at a height an entire foot shorter than he, and could only manage to spread the grime to his shoulders with little muddy handprints to mark their embrace. I always admired her for her carefree nature, how someone who had outlived almost all of we sages could still maintain the spirit and freedom of a child. But she was understanding, motherly, and perfectly mature when necessary, and could easily surpass my own ability to be an adult. In a sense, all of Hyrule’s children, every last one, were adults at heart. And I realized that it was my manipulation of time that was at fault for this crime.

Link allowed Saria to hop down from his arms, grinning hugely at me, “Can you believe how this girl’s grown, Zel?” He patted Saria, who revealed a frown of displeasure, on the head, “Look at her, she’s practically my height now!” He wrapped an arm around Saria’s neck, pulling her into the crook of his elbow as she growled like a wild beast, bearing her teeth and scratching profusely at his arm. I raised a hand slightly, but restrained myself from taking action. I would not be the one to disturb their time together…

Even if they were in a battle of the beasts. Saria, kicking wildly as an attempt to knock her captor’s knees from beneath him, could not restrain giggles in between each cat-like hiss she released as a form of intimidation. Link, effortlessly holding her in a headlock, turned to me with a grin. “Now watch this,” A hint of mischief was evident in his tone, and the reason became apparent within the next second. Link dropped to the ground, rolling backward with Saria in tow, and flipped into a sitting position just as I gasped in concern for Saria’s safety. But I had to admire both of their acrobatic skills. He had rolled just in the right direction to place her on her feet at his back, sitting on the ground before her as she stood with her arms raised triumphantly, both releasing a shout of , “Ta da!”

Saria burst into a fit of giggles, clutching her stomach and nearly doubling over with the hysteria of the situation, “Link, that was amazing!” She turned to me, revealing an enormous, giddy grin like a child receiving a birthday gift, “Your highness, wasn’t that funny? He’s incredible, isn’t he, Princess?”

I smiled at the heartwarming way she cared so much for him, like a beloved little sister, as I watched my best friend brush the mud off his tunic. She was right. The extraordinary way in which he lived his life, never once pausing to fret over anything other than each moment he was born to improve, was incredibly inspiring to all who had witnessed it. He was placed upon this earth to save us all from our own selfishness, existing to liberate humanity, to spread his courage in believing that the world can always become a better place. At that moment, I knew I had learned something I would not soon forget. “To say the least,” I said softly, smiling at her warmly.

I felt the little girl’s bare arm brush against my hand as she stood at my side, “Your grace,” she said considerately, her voice soft and filled with a slight tone of wonder, “I’ve been wondering… since… then… will they remember him? Will Hyrule remember everything he did? Will they always…will they know that he was the one who brought us everything, who gave peace to our land…? Princess Zelda, will they? Will you?”

I folded my hands at my middle, a small smile creeping to my lips as I looked to the ground at my feet. Understanding was something that always struck me as miraculous, defining, in life, each moment leading up to each revelation of who one was. And each moment of my life, I understood, had led up to this. My purpose, at last, had been brought to life. “I’ll make sure they do, Saria. I promise you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Her face lit up, eyes of aquamarine showing all the joy and gratitude I could have asked for. “You mean it?” She breathed.

“I solemnly swear. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

I looked to her, the smile on my face still lingering with a faint light, “Please…call me Zelda.”

~ ~ ~

The pale blue of the heavens had nearly closed its eyes in full, unable to bear the weight of it weary eyes as a coat of midnight azure clouded its sight. And the same could nearly be said for the three of us—three adults, elders, perched atop a cliff in the bodies of three children with our feet dangling into the cold stream of water below, soft, soothing forest water that stroked between our bare toes. The three of us, slowly drifting into a land of dreams. I let the faint, slightly weakening summer breeze brush across my cheeks, as if it had grown tired, cold, and longed for a warm place to rest tonight until dawn awakened once again. But I was numb to the feeling of cold, content, preoccupied with the warmth of my hero’s arm pressed against mine.

I realized he and I were alone at the faint sound of slow, care-free breaths, smiling warmly at the heartwarming sight of little Saria, sound asleep with her cheek nudged against Link’s shoulder, her tiny boots tossed aside in the nearby brush, sagging in creases as the cloth drooped like a wilting rose, unable to stand straight with water and aerating dirt accumulated in the loose, oversized crevices. It filled me with a feeling of lasting warmth fluttering into my torso, butterflies of nostalgia chasing one another up and down my spine. I recalled, at that instant, a time when I was like her. It had been a time when I felt free. I had felt like I was alive, like I had everything I could ever want, eyes wide and alight with the joy of a little girl, and hoping for nothing more than to see the sun rise at the awakening of a beautiful dawn. I had been naďve, simple, and I never paused to ponder what was beyond the walls of my father’s castle. They had forced the numb and perturbing thought into my head that there was nothing outside of royalty’s protection. There was no world for me to escape to. There was no salvation. I could pry at the iron latches that barred the drawbridge with tiny, fragile hands. I could beat at the doors with fists flourishing with will, but sapped of power by the weakness of confinement. I could scream for the mercy of whomever could grant me freedom, I could plead to them…I would give them everything, just to have a taste of liberation. Just so my hero would sweep me off my feet, just so I could fly away with them, so I could see the sun rise just as I had always wanted when I was a little girl. But I dreamt of seeing it stretch over an endless horizon, where I would stand, with the entire world before me, with the true beauty of the world finally filling me entirely with every breath I took.

I had released all sense of confinement when I was young, knowing there were treasures untold in the world beyond, and praying each night that someday, I would be there. But, for mere months that seemed as an eternity, I doubted my escape was to be. I was certain, for six years of my life, that someone would come for me. Someone would take me away from any sign of grief or hatred. Courage had existed for me, all those years, courage that told me I would always find a way out of the restricted life I lived. I was so certain that I could take care of myself…I had believed that I would wait until someone would save me, dodging every problem that came my way. I had confidence in myself that I was invincible to anything fate could send my way.

Then there was Ganondorf.

A glare of repulse spread across my face. There he was. There he was to take away everything that I held dear. Rage amassed within me as a heating feeling of dissatisfaction, fury, and pure hatred rose within me, preparing to sink its fangs into my heart with the evils of what it was to hate. He was doing this to me. Ganondorf. But we were rid of him, and I didn’t want to hate. I never had. Hatred brought nothing but violence; hatred brought nothing but pain, distress, and a lust for revenge that nothing could stand in the way of. One could not love through hate. And Link…

I spat at the ground below me, wanting to vomit, wanting to rid myself of the darkness that still had not left me alone. I gasped for breath as the infernal heat drained from my body. My hatred was gone. I could go on now.

Was that…what Link had felt all along?

I coughed profusely, gagging as I bent over my knees and prepared to heave the last traces of Ganondorf’s evil from within me. My breaths were scarce, interrupted, each time I attempted to fill my lungs with the purity of the forest air, each time I tried to drown the evils, to just breathe…I couldn’t. My lungs constricted, the evils that remained wringing them with carnage strength, hissing their urges for me to give up. To let myself wither and die.

I tumbled forth as the thrill of falling dashed up and down my spine, falling…into darkness. But I was numb to prevent it, letting myself fall…

As light’s arms caught me in the air.

“Zelda!” A strong grip, blocking the mortal fall that had almost been, seized me across my chest and grabbed the frilled blue sleeve of my gown with small, stubby fingers coated with hard callous, knocking a gust of wind into my lungs as my eyes doubled in size. I drew in an enormous gasp as the impact forced the rushing air in my spine to my throat, feeling the arms of my best friend join at my shoulder as he restrained me from falling to my death. I stammered a cry, trembling, feeling as if I were still ready to fall to my death as my voice, sounding so young with the shattered confidence of a frightened little girl, released incomprehensible, pathetic cries that metamorphosed into sobs of sheer terror’s lasting. I could not prevent myself from following a sudden impulse, throwing my arms around him as I wailed like a madwoman.

He must have been terrified, I realized, as I thrust myself against his chest and held him in a tight embrace. That evening, I had felt the pace of his heart double, triple, against my ear. He just sat there, motionless, as I quivered pitifully against him. Holding me in his arms and just…letting me cry.

The revelation that I was safe, that I could breathe, that nothing could ever harm me now, gave me a sudden coax of comfort, my grip upon Link’s rugged, worn green tunic, stained with my tears and wrinkled fitfully to mark my unyielding grip upon his shoulder, relaxing as I slowly let myself calm. I was silent. I could breathe again.

But he didn’t let go.

“Are you…” he said softly, turning his head so those sky blue eyes, as clear as shallow, pure water that I could visibly see into the deepest bottom of, met the large, indigo orbs of a vibrant dreamer I could call my own. The summer breeze toyed with the locks of hair that hung carelessly into his eyes, brushing them aside so I could see his face, so flawlessly crafted that it seemed surreal, and tinted with brushes of the tangerine sunset, “Are you okay?”

I nodded slowly, allowing my head to bob subconsciously as I managed to force a small flicker of a smile in the sunset’s loving glow.

I glanced upward through my sheer curtain of golden blonde hair, a light shining through as I pulled the loose strands of blonde away from my eyes to see him clearly. His face was alight with the familiar grin of the rogue I knew, the little rascal who had gone through horrors I could only imagine, and greeted me with a hearty crack of a smile that would never fade away. Now that grin had been resurrected, as he cocked an eyebrow, seeming to be very satisfied. “You just spit,” he said with accusation, as if the notion had not occurred to me.

His tone brought a smile I could not suppress, a voice lightly brushed with childish glee and a carefree nature, a voice that forced my chin into the air even in the darkest of situations. A voice that reminded me that I was safe, that we had moved on. That it was over. Heat rushed to my cheeks as a crimson flush poured into my face, so vulnerable and defenseless against the charm of my dearest friend. “I just spit,” I admitted with a warm smile, shifting slightly in his embrace as my eyes bowed down in an effort to play his game, while attempting futilely to disguise the throbbing blush that adorned me.

“Why?”

He looked at me so strangely at that moment; his head tilted in slight uncertainty, with those wide, childish eyes that absorbed all that stood around him staring directly into mine. He looked at me…like there was something deep within me that he needed to find. Something was cut into my soul, that I had to open my heart to reveal. And he was determined to know what it was.

I shivered slightly as his arms slowly unwound from my shoulders, the warmth suddenly absorbed by the whispering breeze that rushed through my hair. I watched him curiously as he looked to the sunset, hair that hung to the length of his chin whipping about behind him as his cap flapped like a kite in the winds. His expression transformed as a cold glare fixed into his features, seeming to curse the rogue wind that gusted into his face. “That scoundrel…” He hissed, his voice seeming to blend with the airstream’s sighing.

I allowed my elbow to rest upon my thigh, lowering my head into my hand’s cradle. I closed my eyes, the event’s anguish returning to me, and heaved a sigh. How was it that he could read me? How was it that he understood?

It hit me like a strike across my senses. He had been through the exact same trauma.

A familiar emotion, a sensation of flying that passed through my fingertips and crept into the blood that flowed to my heart, filled me as my eyes fluttered open. I gently lowered my opposite hand as my head raised to face Link.

I watched in amazement as his thick, stubby fingers wove into mine, long and slender with delicate tips, as I seemed to become merged in his world with a single clutch of his hand. He held my hand at our eyes’ level, clutching it tightly with a rather emotionless expression across his face, with only the rising and falling of his chest to tell me he lived. In a slow, gentle motion like the flow of a river, he lifted a pendant, dangling from his fingertips, and softly slid the leather band over my hand, letting it slide to the base of my fingers and dangle, beads of painted wood seeming to sparkle in the evening’s dying light.

He slid closer to me, our shoulders pressed together, as he clutched my hand from behind, conjoining our fingers yet again, as if to pretend that a single hand held the treasure he had given me. Our fingers clenched into a unified fist, holding this beautiful object he had given me, a gentle grip on each other’s hands comforting us both. “Saria and I made this…I’ve had it for about a month, and I’ve…” He paused, as if afraid to admit his approaching words, “I’ve been afraid to give it to you, all along.”

I reached for the pendant’s brooch, dangling below our hands, and lifted it into my right hand as I froze, stunned by the beauty of something so simple, so pure, more stunning than any of the precious gems my father had granted me, more beautiful than any of the lace-trimmed gowns that royalty could offer. It radiated something more. Something so natural…as if it were merely a part of the scenic land around us, yet somehow bringing a certain beauty, a distinction like no other, to the world around it. But the brooch was naught more than a beautiful flower like a flourishing rose, opening its heart and spreading its beauty, of a radiant maroon that faded to pearl white. And courage, I realized, was the word that ran endlessly across my thoughts. “This flower…” I whispered, fearing that a mere touch would destroy its perfection, “How did it stay alive…? All this time…”

A smile burned brightly like a candle in darkened halls across his face, as his hand joined mine at the side of the pendant. “Saria says it’s called a Chigiri flower. They say that it lives forever, and never wilts, no matter what.” A sheepish flush of tinted maroon crept to his cheeks, his hand settling in his lap. But he did not release my hand, the two of us clutching the pendant, as if afraid that the other would let it go. “Saria says…that when you have a Chigiri flower, it means that somebody’s out there, no matter where they are, somebody who won’t back down until they know they’ll see you again.” He stared into the distance, horizon aligning with his eyes as if searching for something. “If you believe it, too…if you believe you’ll be together forever…It will never, ever die.”

I could do nothing but stare, my mouth limply hanging open as I struggled to find my words. Everything seemed to disappear that was not a part of him; everything became nothing but a blur as I held his hand, motionless. Everything was so incomprehensible. So unreal.

He clutched my hand tighter, slowly leaning in my direction as I followed suit, eyes wide and uncertain, and watched as he flashed the small, hopeful smile of a pleading child, “Zelda, promise me… promise me you’ll always remember. I want you to believe in everything you and I have been…I want you to remember the world around us, everything that makes you and I live forever. Keep us alive…and remember everything.”

The sudden resurrection of all he and I had said and done, all those years, had brought sudden life to all I was at present. I was no longer the imprisoned person I had been reduced to for a great deal of my life. I was no longer alone as a solitary wanderer, with only dreams for company. All I had dreamt of, all I had wished for…it took those words to tell me who I had to be to bring them to life. I knew who I was, and who I was with Link. I was one with the world that had cared for us, a part of the prosperous land that had endured everything at our side. We stood for Hyrule and its people, who we had saved, and who saved us in return. We were a part of each other. All of us.

We were united by the love that courage had given us.

~ ~ ~

Fluffy, yes, and it's not my best writing. But, hey, I loves meh Zelink. <3 Anyway, the next one is a fic I wrote about Malon and Talon after Ingo took over the ranch, while Talon is living in Kakariko Village. Link stops by after seven years to give him a pep talk. The fic was a dedication to one of my closest friends from some different Zelda boards, a fellow writer who I worked with in a lot of different projects. It's a songfic to "Golden Slumbers" by the Beatles, because I thought the lyrics were so appropriate for the sweet father-daughter relationship between Malon and Talon. And there's also a hint of Zelink that's somewhat hard to catch, but as fans of the pairing, you guys will probably notice the hint I dropped in Link's dialogue.

GOLDEN SLUMBERS
By Luna-Nayru

A thousand strokes of vibrant orange and lavender knitted the summer air in delicate brushing courses, streaking inward to a pool of glowing sunlight that fed the last traces of the afternoon with a spark of warmth, and from his perch on the horizon, the sun had little choice but to drift, feathery-light, into a night’s rest. However, in its comfortingly tame and patient nature, it had spared rays of its light to pierce the long-forgotten window of a small cottage window, opaque with dust and grime, but the few segments of clear, unyielding glass ushered the warmth of the sun to reflect into a pair of dark, morose eyes that seemed to press against them in utter longing. In the light, his eyes were given an added amber glow that shimmered in a way that almost seemed illusionary, with a crescent shine of what looked like a warm shade of gold.

Just like hers.

He was conscious of the fact that the dazzling pools of cerulean that he loved so dearly in his daughter’s eyes, so unfathomably pure and simple that even he, as her father, found himself searching for some blemish of imperfection within her, contrasted greatly to his own. His irises were dusky and blackened, with a separation from his pupils that was impossible for the human eye to trace. As a child, his only daughter had always reassured him with a radiantly beaming face that his eyes were only “sleepy,” and desired nothing more than to doze in tranquil darkness. Yet all the same, as if the sunlight itself were encouraging her and fueling her unbreakable will to be optimistic through some sort of proof, both received a similar spark of gold in their eyes within the light that reminded them of the warmth they shared.

He would have given anything to remember these moments now. He would have sacrificed anything at all to remind him that she still loved him as she had in the days of Hyrule’s peace; that she truly believed he was worth all the love she offered in unnecessary servitude. But he almost expected blackened tears to fall from his sunken eyes as they trickled down his cheeks each night as the sun set. The fall of the binding light that brought him closer to his beloved child, that which allowed youth to glimmer in his aging face each day, had fallen as a reminder that the life in his eyes was no longer tired, as Malon had always told him. It was already dead.

What a bitter blessing it was for one to die while living on in droned solitude. An inward demise had caused his pain to stop like a clogged river, and his regrets to become a blur. But the memories of his only happiness were no exception—he struggled to remember his daughter’s face every waking moment of the past few years as she seemed to have faded away into a blinding flash of intermingling memories. He no longer had the look of peace and contentment as he slept through the hours of each afternoon, hoping to wake up to a new day that was not so frightfully overbearing to live through, tossing and turning in his sleep, awakening only when the hosting shelter’s keeper would nudge him in a panic, a wild look of franticness molded into her face as she told him he had been screaming.

The vivid radial sunlight had absorbed its last moments to their full extent, and finally took its bow beneath the distant horizon, and the tears streaming down Talon’s face seemed to sting with an even icier touch. He knew he couldn’t bear to stay awake any longer, for the pain of struggle to remember those which he loved was as heart-wrenching as it was to remember the pain of letting them down. He remembered nights when he was awake, staring into the charcoal furnace that blazed in the corner of the humble cottage he had cherished as his home, seated on a frayed bail of hay that prodded his hardened flesh. But he didn’t mind. It reminded him that he was alive, regardless of how tired he may have been.

He would never notice Malon creep into the room, her bare feet drifting as silent and fragile as falling leaves in autumn, smirking crookedly as she tapped his shoulder. As he turned with a beam of adoration, she was aware of her welcome and would crawl, undaunted, into his lap, and neither would utter a word of disapproval as she broke into a soft, delicate hum like a chorus of tinkling chimes. He would cradle her in his arms, leaning at complete peace against the hay bales that embraced him, and never failed to fall into rest at ease.

But now…he was so far from that little house. And she was as far as she could be from ever calling it a home again. There was nothing but tyranny, threats, and a broad, forgotten path of many miles between the rancher and his daughter now that seven years had passed. Even if the sun shined brighter than his dark eyes could fathom, to return the familiar glow to his face that had brought himself and his daughter such joy, he would never see it. For in the depth of his unyielding soul’s sleep, he would always be nothing but a mass of dead memories. His face sunk into his hands, leaning hopelessly upon his feeble, trembling knees, with only his own sobs as a requiem.

Once there was a way to get back homeward.
Once there was a way to get back home.
Sleep pretty darling do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.

He stumbled to his feet, heavy, rugged brown boots suspended by a floorboard that squealed in anguish as his weight shifted. Slowly stepping toward the bed in the corner of the room, he scratched his head in exasperation, tired of the endless strain to remember the few things in life that kept him living, and slowly lowered himself into a sitting position on the cushioned straw mattress as his joints seemed to creak like worn hinges, reached for his leather flask on the bedside table, and gulped shamelessly. Returning the container to its perch, he sluggishly attempted to pull his legs slowly into a reclining state on the bed, releasing a breath as his head collapsed on the stiff pillow. Knowing that, as simple and derelict the inn may have been, this was all the comfort he could ever hope to receive now that his own cot was occupied by the man enslaving his daughter, his heavy eyelids buckled and he prayed inwardly for sleep.

But pain overwhelmed him, a distinct pulling within his skull that strained his eyelids and seemed to declare that tonight, he would not sleep. He shifted uncomfortably onto his side, wondering if the drink was getting the better of him, a fitful expression steadily crinkling his face like a flame to parchment. Something was terribly wrong tonight, and it kept him from drowning his pain into the night’s alluring ways that always lulled him into slumber. Why now? Why, after seven years of the same recurring sleep that allowed him to sink day after day into unconsciousness, did he lie helplessly in such pain?

In an instant, the answer ripped through his heart like a scythe. Her song….he had forgotten Malon’s song…

Desperate, he sat up bolt-right, fumbling with his memory for a note of the tune his wife, and later, his daughter, had hummed in the days when he was blessed with a family. Panting heavily as if the panic had strangled him, he mumbled various melodies, words, something, anything… but it was lost. He had lost her, once and again for the last time, and felt his hands quiver, frightened and in a stunned state of distress, as they moved to prevent the tears from spilling from his eyes. He whispered his daughter’s name, hearing his voice rupture miserably, as if to remind himself that this knowledge was still with him, to give him a last trace of hope that his reason for life was still, if only in memory, by his side.

But even this did not seem to comfort him, perhaps it upset him more at the revelation that he had nothing left of his daughter but a name and blurred recollections, as the plump, aging man let out a soft sob, tears trickling along his nose and cheeks as he repositioned himself upon the pillow, streaming past his ears and along his neck as he wept, soaking forlornly in his sorrows, until sleep overcame him.

Golden slumbers fill your eyes.
Smiles awake you when you rise.
Sleep pretty darling do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.

He trembled fitfully in the midst of painful apparitions blazing with faces vibrant with light and muddled colors, his nightmares full of his daughter’s ringing laughter as her face seemed to stretch in a blaze of reanimation as nothing but her distinct tears and pained, frozen eyes were spared. His breath was lost in the heated flight of visions that seemed to tighten his throat as he dared to strain his voice to a long-lost scream, wanting at the least to comprehend what horrible things he had done to paint that heartbreaking expression onto her face…

In a second that threatened impending suffocation, Talon flung himself into a sitting position with a bawling gasp as a breath pummeled his insides. He shook his head vigorously like a drowned animal, spluttering his trademarked what-in-tarnation as his senses filled him like the fresh, morning air.

He turned, raising a fist threateningly as he prepared to impose a sermon regarding his rude awakening, but his gruff manner was swiftly and subtly defeated as he convulsed feverishly at the dream’s lasting waves of shock. He mumbled a few curses before uttering a consistently unsteady, “Can’t a person get a little shut-eye around here?”

“Talon…?”

Talon’s eyes snapped open, focusing his reluctant eyes at the sound of a familiar courageousness, with a refreshing twinge of utmost sincerity, in the voice of the young man who had just awakened him. With a shout, he struggled incessantly into a sitting position, finally meeting a pair of deep blue eyes that seemed not to have taken advantage of the past seven years to change. It was as if he were staring into the face of the eager little cucco-wrangler who had arrived on his ranch’s doorstep, his beaming face alight with wild interest as his infinite questions fired left and right, a fleeting seven years ago.

“Link, ain’t that you?!” he managed to utter with a few rigid blinks, hoping his worn eyes were not deceiving him. “Forest kid, right, an’ the best little cowboy I ever saw!”

The boy, tall and certainly surpassing Talon’s portly form by now, was garbed in his characteristically plain, yet intriguing costume of a crocheted green tunic, patched with what looked like grass as a memento of his more careless days, and matching green hat, with additional looping belts armed with strange toy-like tools, one resembling a small porcelain flute. A chivalrous-looking sword that seemed to glow from within the sheath on his back caught Talon’s eye, but the seventeen-year-old he called Link did not seem to discern him as he scratched his neck sheepishly with a feverish blush. “I don’t know about the best, sir…”

“There you go again with them formalities! Most modest little guy in the whole of Hyrule—but you’re not so little now,” Talon forced a chuckle, “Still seems like you’re ten years old and calling me ‘Mr. Talon’ again!”

Link smiled pleasantly.

“So, what do I owe you for the visit, huh?” Talon continued, sitting fully upright with a patiently drawn-out-smile.

The younger paused, turning his head slightly. Talon could visibly see him contemplating the production of forced grins to substitute cares he had just received as if he were preparing to present an award based on it. Link suddenly turned to face him again. “You were talking in your sleep…about Malon, about making her worry…”

Talon’s care-worn face fell, his rosy cheeks sagging into a reflective frown. “Aw, kiddo, don’t worry about…”

Link cracked a proud smile. “Worrying is what I’m supposed to do.”

Something about the look on the boy’s face, the convincing way he had managed to try his hardest to let the rancher know that he had a shoulder to lean on, made Talon realize exactly why Link was here. The elder gave a weak smile as he easily read Link’s slightly simple mind like an open book. He didn’t know if he could play hero, always, as those around him expected him to, but was determined to live up to their expectations. There was always something, regardless of reason, that he could do to help someone in need, and he clearly understood that Talon’s current life was far from the catnap he made it out to be.

The little old man clasped his hands contemplatively, his eyes lowering as he murmured his response. “All right,” he said softly, “Ingo took over Lon Lon Ranch, and they call it ‘Ingo Ranch’ nowadays…” he scowled brashly as Link listened with a placid expression. Talon, however, seemed to be speaking to no one but himself, rage apparent in his eyes as he continued. “I was kicked out of there and look at me now! My girl, Malon, still works at the ranch, and I’m just…” he turned to Link as if observing his presence for the first time. “I’m worried about her, see…but there’s nothing…”

Link eyed him, undaunted, his face still utterly expressionless. A moment passed as neither spoke, Talon stared at his clasped hands as if expecting the boy to reprimand his shameful way of life, tears slithering into his eyes and threatening to rip their way through his defenses with a painful sting. Then, turning sharply on his heel, the budding hero’s grin flourished as he folded his arms triumphantly. “You know, Ingo’s not all he’s made himself out to be.” His grin widened into a great, beaming smirk as he noted Talon’s bewildered expression. “A couple of little races, two spins around the track, and one leap over the fence and he hands over the entire ranch. But I’d assume Malon needs a little more than a strong stomach to deal with somebody like him as a worker on her property.” Talon’s mouth now hung open limply as the boy continued, his eyes meeting the rancher’s with a bright expression. “Plus, you’ll be missed. Can’t forget that.”

It took Talon what seemed like hours to fully comprehend the charmingly lighthearted way this gallant young man had explained what had happened to Malon and Ingo, for it seemed as if the rancher’s voice had pressed a raging attack against his throat before making a foolproof getaway, taking his dazed state for granted and pilfering a few of his senses in the act. Within the next few moments, he managed to track down his own heartily booming accents, but merely fumbled through a few inconsistent and unintelligible noises that refused to soundly form words. Perhaps it was the fact that he could find nothing of use in his vocabulary to express and adequately summarize what had just happened. Seven years had passed like a never-ending sentence, seven years that had allowed him to halfheartedly throw words into the open without reason or rhyme, but now there was nothing more important than to make one flawlessly ample stroke of expressions, something worthy of this young man’s valiant efforts after all these years, to end it appropriately.

“I don’t know…” he whispered, as if only to himself.

“Huh?”

Talon looked to the boy with his sunken eyes expanded to levels they had never reached in his life, easily akin with those of a stray dog looking in pleading admiration to passersby.

“…how I can ever thank you.”

“Well then, don’t.” Link said briskly with an audacious smile, “You don’t have to thank me. I’m not the one who put up with being bossed around for seven years.”

Talon’s eyes lowered. He knew that he could not meet the boy’s eyes as he stared into the gnarled floorboards, bowing his head in utter shame. He would not let a single flicker of the morning light’s warmth grace his eyes with such sympathy, feeling as if any indication that he deserved such a wonderfully tolerant daughter would be unacceptably forbearing of his actions. He had abandoned her, and never realized the consequences. The innocent desire for hope, to be at peace with himself after seven long years, would never be his again without a twinge of darkening guilt. “She’ll never…I don’t deserve her forgiveness.” He murmured decisively, “She needs a real man, somebody who loves her as much as I do, and somebody who can support her like I never could…not some drunken, creaky old excuse for a father.”

At once, he dropped to a kneel on the boarded, awkwardly uneven floor, cringing inwardly at the sharp pain in his brittle joints, but nevertheless seizing Link by the sides of his tunic as if pleading for the gentle young man to have mercy upon him. “Please, Link…please look after my little girl…”

Link shook his head, thick clusters of golden hair gently descending from their positions. “I’m sorry, sir, but...” He stared into the rising sun at the grimy window, smiling at the single rays of newborn light that shone through. “I’ve got someone who needs me now, more than ever…you see, she’s been waiting for me, too.”

He noticed Talon raise his head in disbelief as he released his tunic, enormous, dark eyes staring with the confusion of a fawn separated from its mother, and finished in a soft, beaming voice.

“I’m not a hero any more than you are, Mr. Talon.”

He made his way to the door in silence, hands nonchalantly gripping the rims of his pockets. Talon watched, feeling his hands tensing subconsciously, feeling the sudden desire to rise and stop him. A voice within him desired above all else to say something he could not recognize for the life of him, bursting to escape his locked lips and confirm, once and for all, that his feelings at this moment were not an illusion.

“Link!”

The boy turned with an expectant smile.

Talon fidgeted with his clasped hands. “How long does it take to get to the ranch on foot?”

His grin metamorphosed into a sly and daring smirk. “At a sprint? You could be there before sunrise.” He said plainly, reached for the doorknob, and stepped into the village streets.

It is unclear what Talon’s reaction was to this. All that is known is that mere moments after Link had exited, the old man flung himself from the shelter with a spurt of energy rivaled by even youth, his eyes glowing with new life as he tossed a worn leather flask into the river. He breathed in the great amber sunlight with more enthusiasm than he had ever felt in his life, taking in every inch of this moment as he catapulted across Hyrule Field with an enormous grin that widened brilliantly as he dashed up the great hilled pathway leading to his daughter’s residence, and some say they could hear his whooping voice declaring new awakening for thousands of miles as the sun rose over the near horizon.

Once there was a way to get back homeward.
Once there was a way to get back home.
Sleep pretty darling do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.

WOW.
I can't read it ALL right now, but its amazingly deep so far.

You are SUCH a Fwuffy Pink Pillow of Luff.

Addicted is the word. If you have the time (you certainly have the talent), please keep going.

I rarely read long descriptions (even though I write some), because I easily lose track of them, but yours are very natural and expertly written. I also love your portrayal of Link. It's a very appropriate idea of him, if one bears in mind the premonition Zelda had in childhood.

Authors with your talent are a rare gem, and I enjoy reading them very much!

You made me happy!

*pokes in* ZOMGYAY! I have readers! *dances*

Lute: Haha, don't worry about finishing it all at once, it's a little bit too much text for one sitting. You could have a seizure and start seeing Verdana font in your nightmares. But I totally lub ya even more for stopping in, Lute! I'm glad you liked meh fluffy stuffz.

CGM: Wow, thank you! That's so sweet of you to say, I'm totally honored. I've always wanted to finish Deep Blue (it was intended to be a really big fic that spanned Zelda's life from OOT to the flood in TWW's backstory), since I adore Zelda as a character and love writing from her perspective, but I've only gotten this far plus about half of the next chapter, which is mainly about Zelda and Impa (OTP!!!11 XD). Great to hear you enjoyed the read, and I'm so proud of you for making it through the gargantuan amount of text without feeling medical side effects.

Yes, well, there's actually this thing that happens when people don't update... I get kinda twitchy. Like this...

::twitch::

I don't know why. I think it has to do with that slightly manic disorder of mine that may or may not involve the urge to tickle little furry animals. It usually is accompanied by a sort of lunatic daze.

Whaddya think, Doc?

Oh dear, that is serious! Twitching?! Lunatic dazes?! Little furry animals?! My God, this sounds like that time I tried orange mocha frappuccino! I can't decide whether to give you a chinchilla or the unfinished Chapter 2 of Deep Blue. XD

... Meh, Chapter 2 won't hurt. I was thinking about posting it anyway, because I always feel so bad posting unfinished fics without appeasing the readers with at least a small update. This chapter's a little heavy compared to the sappiness of Chapter 1. It's after Majora's Mask, and Link hasn't come back for five years after saying goodbye to Zelda. So she's sixteen, she's moody, and she misses him like the Dickens. I wanted to take this chapter to dive into her relationships with Impa, her father, and I even made plans to arrange a short meeting between her and Malon, who would tell her a little bit of what she knew about Link. But there's a lot of foreshadowing in this chapter--the relationship between Zelda and her dad comes to mind. I made him be THE Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule from TWW, because I'm a fangirl of his and always assumed he was OOT Zelda's dad. But, of course, that would mean that OOT Zelda would be alive during the Great Flood. Heavy, I know.


Chapter 2
Shadowed Heart

“Tell me what happened.”

She spoke in a slow, calm manner, a low, coaxing tone emitting from within an unreadable soul. Her voice, robust and firm enough to protect me from harm, seemed to startle even my father into doing her bidding when she required demands to be met. But Impa never shouted. It was almost worse for me to hear her, that tone of disappointment lingering, towering over my heart as my confidence declined, surrendered, with the engulfment of culpability, wrestling with my morality and forcing a sharp, fitful twinge of guilt that never ceased inside me. And she could easily let these feelings seep like slinking trails of twirling smoke, filling my lungs and forcing my eyes to water in pain, its fingers effortlessly, in gentle, smooth motions and words, pulling my will to rebel to the ground as I feared that at any moment, she would burst into screams of scolding. But she never did. Impa was of the shadows, and shadows, she told me, were always to bow before the light, to do as the light bade, to be nothing but a faint, shunned reflection. Light, however, demanded superiority, a powerful force that stood, even in the form of the smallest flicker, as the law of the world. It had always been that way. Light banished shadow as a high ruler of all, and shadow obeyed and kept from its luxuries.

As a little girl, growing with each step I took as she clasped my hands for support, I had never stopped to wonder what it would be like when the light faded. I had never paused to think of what would happen when shadow stepped into the glimmering ray of pride that was my father’s dynasty, when the light intended to carry on fell into darkness. And even then, when my scornful eyes ripped into the ground with a fiery attempt at anger, wanting to burn the memories with hatred, wanting to hate my so-called “hero” for everything he had done, when I desperately needed to maintain my pride as the descendant of the light itself, desperately needing to abandon the friend I had clung to so earnestly…Impa had seen straight through me. And I knew she could see the streams of tears that washed my hatred away. Now, as I look back upon that day, I can see the vision that had reached my guardian six years after my time had returned to me: a princess, falling from grace. A princess with shrouded pride, a light that undoubtedly held shadow- weakness- within it, weakness that beckoned to her from below when a single trace of emotion stood in her way.

Radiant light cannot cast shadow, unless something- or in my case, someone- stands in its path. These were the ideals I had been taught my entire life. My father had told me, in a voice that stands so clearly scripted into my solid stone memory, the voice of commanding that still springs from my memory, seizes my senses and shakes them so violently that my thoughts bolt like the piercing of freezing rain into my actions, ricocheting up my spine, and charging skyward to overcome the troubled mind that awaits it… “A true leader shows no weakness. Let thoughts of softening inflict, let your guard down, and you will never live to stand and fight again.” And every time my father seems to possess me, I find a subconscious burst of stubbornness that halts it in its path before I can allow it to control my mind, with such a forceful collision that I find myself writhing upon impact. And whenever regret finds its way into my thoughts, nearly impacting my greater judgment when persistence deflects it, I remember the similar chill that bolted up and down my spine as I listened to the conflicts of offense and defense, light and shadow…my father and Impa.

I suddenly drew in a slight breath between fitful attempts at disguising my sobs, the trickling cold touch of Impa’s fingers, one by one, perching atop my own hand, her darkened, callous skin against my pale flesh that rarely found a glimpse of sunlight, and the mere sight of her hand resting atop mine seemed to fill an emptiness within me, a sudden feeling of protection that I had always found in this gesture filling me even now, when I was twenty-three years old within the body of a sixteen-year-old girl who still needed a mother to protect her. She slowly lifted her hand, patting mine reassuringly with the gentle touch of her chilled fingers, and repeating the gesture as if to remind me her comfort was still intact. And it was the instant she offered her permission to be defiant of the strong image my father had attempted to burn into his offspring, it was the instant she reminded me that stubbornness was my heart’s salvation, that I fell into the shadow of my mother’s arms and wept uncontrollably.

It was at that moment, as Impa cradled me in her arms as she had since the day of my birth, whispering small, indistinct sounds that seemed to lull my wails into tiny whimpers, that I wondered how on earth someone’s arms could be so cold, and yet so comforting all the same. I could not remember the last time I had clung to my father like I clung to Impa now, but as I searched the limits of my memory to find even the most meager excuse for contact I had with him, I could remember my arm linked within his, as if chained by the punishment of birth to the rest of his property, which he insisted on keeping under the strict watch of a flawless guard solid as steel, even if he never took a moment to sift through his most prized possessions, even if he never considered drawing aside the regal banners with his territorial crest bound to them, to look at the treasures that were so much more precious. I remembered my unease as his arm, as stiff and brawny as the trunk of a small tree, seemed to burn with impatience as he dragged me down the marble staircase like a farmer leading a pack mule, his gruff voice muttering various commands as if I were one of the stone-faced members of the Hylian militia, unauthorized to feel any emotions, to live as the property of the commander.

“When you are in the presence of a general, girl, I will not tolerate anything, anything but the behavior of the king’s daughter, do you understand me?! When we walk through those doors, I expect a ladylike approach to Sir Ganondorf. He is a fine ruler and a very distinguished individual, so if you think for a fleeting instant that any ridiculous notions of your demented little fantasies will go unpunished, you are severely mistaken. And for Din’s sake, girl, stand up straight! Has Impa taught you nothing?!”

“Of course, sir,” I had held a hand at the curve of my back in a slight attempt to adjust my posture, bringing myself to settle into the most mockingly pristine position a ten-year-old girl could muster, my golden hair curled into locks that whipped about me in a regal thrust as my nose darted skyward, and I had sincerely believed that proving to him how ridiculous his demands were would emphasize my point. “She taught me the meaning of proper manner, posture, language, and,” I brought a melodramatic hand to my heart, halting as if I had suddenly been shocked by a preposterous new revelation, “proper parental affection, good Goddesses!”

But as Impa let me weep for the pain of tearing away from the one person who had shown me a world outside these walls, these walls draped with glorious banners of King Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule, these walls that confined me with my father’s crest blatantly streaked across them, these walls that always watched over their property, I could feel the healing touch of my own tears as they soothed the everlasting pain on the side of my face, and the cool trickles of luxurious freedom that seemed to make that day, when my father’s hand had sprung forth like a burst of flame against my cheek, seem so much further away. She had been the most appropriate parent I had ever come close to finding, forcing my father into an exiled portion of the world reserved for the ones the Goddesses spat disgustedly upon, that branded him unworthy of a family’s care.

I raised my head, breaking away from the troubles of my own mind that pulsated and threatened to implode if I did not douse them with countering relief, looking into my caretaker’s face with my eyes swelling and filled to the brim with tears that spilled haphazardly onto my cheeks in my careless way of allowing my guard to fall. Her eyes met mine, the warmth of a hearth’s fire seeming to emit from her very soul, despite the cold exterior she held so firmly, and a smile made its way to her lips as she dabbed at the tears that streaked my image with weakness. I often compared the eyes of a Sheikah to the blood of we, the Hylians, the fuel of our lives to which we were granted as a symbol of the Goddesses’ love for all of us. They were our shadows, as the rumors foretold me, a key piece of our humanity that was to be cherished. So why was it that everyone took them for granted? Why did those of my race consider themselves of a higher, ever more beloved clan, when their lives depended on the presence of the shadowed heart they ignored? It baffled me how those who shunned their inner darkness, their very hearts and souls, could cling to the light of pride and call themselves human beings.

I would never know what drove those like my father to look down upon the race of people they desperately needed, but refused to recognize, for guidance in existence as people who love. I would pray to the Goddesses each night…that someday they would know that we were created for the sake of brotherhood. Farore had given us life in the name of courage. So why couldn’t they see that they were so fearful of their own weakness, they abandoned the humanity that manifested within it, and lacked the bravery itself to face it? If She existed, I knew Farore would look upon them with utter disappointment in her creation. I didn’t want Her to feel that scorn, and wished for all my life that there was some way we could see the wrong in how we had mistreated her blessings. As a leader to those people, I questioned my own competence to stand beside them. Was I unfit to represent those who looked up to me, when I felt such uneasiness concerning their ways?

Impa knew I was apprehensive about my future as a queen. She knew I was terrified of my own ability to rule, as well as to change, my country. But, all the same, she told me never to worry, and to allow my course to run as fate would instruct. I doubted I was capable of following such a course, and my apprehension was ever vigilant.

“What is it that troubles you?”

Her voice, as always, tore through every trace of doubt I had that lie in its path, her way of always asking questions assuring that any troubles within me she left behind would be extracted. I prepared to release them, sighing as the wings of my fear prepared to lift into the air as we spoke.

“You know very well,” I began softly, losing my breath as I withdrew from opening my heart, slightly afraid to unload such a hallowed secret into my guardian for fear that it would overcome her, as well. The revelation pooled within me during the silence as I began to understand that Impa could contain any emotions I transferred. “You know very well…that I can’t…” The memory and its lingering followers of regret refused to yield, clinging to my heart as they choked my will to speak another word.

She closed her eyes, smiling with a slow rock of her head as she absorbed my emotion into her own, contemplating it, merging it into yet another question to release more of the stubborn predicaments of my mind. “Zelda,” She said in a low voice that warned me of something she understood, something that I did not, and would relate it to me in a moment’s time to clarify all of my personal confusion. “Consider this well…and please, enlighten me as to what in the world you are incapable of.”

I studied her momentarily, still unable to harness what she was trying to tell me. “I’m not sure I understand…”

As I had mentally anticipated, she continued. “If there is something one so strong as you, one worthy of the Triforce of Wisdom, can’t handle, then I’d certainly like to know what the rest of us should be looking out for.”

She knew how to flatter me in a way that was so vague, and simultaneously demeaning to my argument, it often frustrated me. I frowned with an exasperated drag of my shoulders as I looked at her dully, arms folded intolerantly as if to ward off her excuses in my defense, signifying my intent for full independence. The gesture was something so subconscious, I found myself feeling slightly incredulous at my own actions, and the expression that accompanied such a statement in a way that was so self-contradictory seemed to amuse my caretaker as she mimicked my motions with a haphazard fold of her arms.

“Just like your father,” she chuckled.

Sharp rage pierced my features with an expression that radiated a mixture of fury and blank stunning like the strike of death, and I inhaled penetratingly as if I were taking a final breath of life. “How dare you,” I dared to scream, but the translucent hand of truth wrung my throat, and a mere wheeze emitted from my gullet. How on earth was I to speak so scornfully in response to a statement my heart had allied with instants prior? How could I disagree with something I knew was truer than anything I had heard in ages, and pass it off as a lie?

~~

And then Luna got writer's block. Yep, that's all I have. Poor Zelda. Never got her story finished. *pats Zelda* But, hey, maybe someday I'll keep going. Someday, when the events of TP completely contradict the fic's entire plot and screw me over.

Kwaaah! I finally got around to finishing one of em.

Luna.......Goddess of everything!!!! *worships ya *


I must say, you have stolen my vote of awesomeness and my undying love...Only for the bajillionth time. You make all your fics flow so easily, and use great, and I mean GREAT imagery.....I love ya.

Well I'm sheepish. I plead vacational absence for my lack of fiction updates!

Amazing writing. As always, Luna. You're making me green. Keep it up, and I may spare you.

It is very good. I must agree there. I do believe at some points, maybe it was slightly drawn out (reference to the first chapter (Courage) of the first fic that you posted) duting the love scenes. Maybe too much feelings and emotions; one of the things I believed that needed to be tuned was some of the lack of dialogue, and the overusage of detail, as opposed to the lack of actual speaking. While I'm guilty of that, I can only pass on what I've been adivsed before. Just keep it in mind, and yeah...

It flowed very well, and kept a very good character in mind. This was great to see; I believed that you created a very dark, and troubled Zel throughout the whole thing. Zel's character was supposed to be burdened with that of an adult in a child's body, and I believe you pulled this off AMAZINGLY well.

I think maybe Impa's character was a bit confusing; I wasn't sure which way she was trying to nudge Zel, due to the way her own dialogue was constructed, due to Zel's reaction. The reason is because most reader's (I believe) will assume that Impa and Zel have a very good relationship (due to how Impa is there for Zelda whenever she is feeling empty; somewhere in the second chapter, can't find it right now) however, once she says that Zel is like her father, she must already know that Zel will get angry, but earlier compliments her on her Wisdom. Therefore, it's very hard to tell what kind of character Impa is.

Ganondorf was too evil? It's very hard to create characters that are the epitome of evil, without also being human. In this way, I think you may have slightly overexaggerated the features of Link and Ganondorf. And 'Dorf needed some dialogue, I think. But yes, it was very good in terms of the detail used and the way you constructed each character. I especially liked the way Saria was constructed (possibly Link is too cheerful for someone who has been through so much? I dunno...)

EDIT: lol. I get so many quotes in Luna's posts...

Lute and CGM, you two are keeping Luna's love points VERY high. *huggles the two of you* And I'll try to get the creative juices going again and update. Hopefully. :-D

And thank you so much for reading, Firefly! You have GREAT advice, and thanks so much for your praise, too. I'll keep what you said in mind, thank you again. I know there are some drawn-out spots, but that was kind of a phase of mine. I wrote it when I was twelve, so, meh, I hope I've grown. ;-)

EDIT: Sorry about the short post earlier, I was kind of rushing. I'll go through what you (Firefly) said a little more, since I think you have such great thoughts on the fic and I'd like to discuss them. :-)

Yeah, that's a terrible habit of mine. XD I've never been one to put a lot of dialogue in a story, especially a story from the point of view of a very observant character. Originally, I was trying to focus on the very melodramatic, emotional side of Zelda's character, and how seriously she takes even the most insignificant aspects of her environment. I wanted to build up the fact that she really is deserving of the title "Keeper of Wisdom", even if that took the phrase a little farther than was originally intended in the game. I wanted to show that she just totally eats up her world by analyzing and being passionate about it, but that such a quality naturally overwhelms her in the state she's in--the conditions around her are far from the perfect, fairytale princess life she is often branded with, and she's under enough personal stress without adding the rest of the world's pressure on top of it. Still, being a determined little bugger, Zelda insists on fussing over everybody else.

But that's not to say I didn't take it too far, especially in "Courage." The first drafts were horrid, and the current draft isn't quite up to the standards I'd like since it's ridiculously image-heavy. :-P

Thank you! Zelda has to be one of my favorite characters EVER, so it's great to hear that others also appreciate the light in which I see her. And I'm sick of reading fanfics where she's made out to be ditzy/a Mary Sue/a bitch/Link's sister/etc. I really wanted to make sure she was as close to her in-game personality as possible.

Good point. Impa's quite the enigma in OOT, and I wanted to portray her as such, but I also wanted to shed some light on the fact that she is the person who knows Zelda best, and therefore knows what buttons to push with her and how to make her think. I really wanted to make sure readers knew that Impa is much more practical than Zelda. Zelda is, to say the least, troubled. In Link's absence, she has just about zilch emotional support aside from Impa, so I wanted to show how much her sense of self is deteriorating, both from grief and the strain of growing up. So I wanted Impa, as the only real mother-figure she has, to try and push her to think about who she is in every respect, if only to keep her from sinking into depression. I'm going to make it a little clearer as the chapter goes on--the "just like your father" comment is obviously going to make Zelda a little wary of herself and focus more on remaining an individual (but that doesn't translate to "to hell with Link"--come on, you guys, I'm a Zelinker XD), which, in my mind, was Impa's purpose of dropping that little hint. ;-)

Oh, you don't have to worry about Ganondorf--the parts about him thus far have been only Zelda's memories of who he was in general (also relating back to her tendency to take everything extremely seriously). But I absolutely, one-hundred percent guarantee that he's going to make a real appearance later. After all, I did say that this story goes through Zelda's life from after OOT to the Great Flood. The Great Flood, as you may remember, was caused in order to stop Ganondorf, who broke the Sages' seal and basically conquered Hyrule while Link was missing. Interaction with Zelda ahead? Oh hell yeah. One-on-one fight with Zelda ahead? Double hell yeah. 8D

As for Link... I don't know what he's like, since the only way we are able to see any kind of dialogue on his part is... by looking at the options you can pick when talking to other characters in the game. That's not a lot of feedback, but, meh, I try. :-D I kind of wanted him to be the opposite of what Zelda is. She is an adult in a child's body, because she lived to be seventeen and then flipped back seven years to when she was ten, but she still remembered the traumatizing events like the conquering of her country and the death of her father (ouch). But Link is a different story. He was asleep through those seven years in which the rest of the world suffered. So he was like a child in an adult's body when he came out of his nap. :-) But still he went on and did more than any normal adult could do. I see Link's character as a bright, optimistic kid who pushes through whatever comes his way, even if the problems he faces aren't his own. If he weren't genuinely nice (and a little naive), I don't think he would have taken on the challenge of saving Hyrule alone.

However, you do make a really good point that it's not believable to say that he'd come out of the situation unscathed. I don't believe for a minute that he's completely unburdened by what happened with 'Dorf. But I do think he would be the kind of guy who would try wholeheartedly to hide that kind of burden and keep a smile on his face, especially around Zelda. We can assume he knows her pretty well, so I think he'd know better than to mope around when she's taking everything he does to heart. He knows how much she depends on him, and I like to think he'd be very sweet about it.

PASSIONATE. HATRED. FOR. THE. EMOTICON. LIMIT. >:-O

EDIT: Yeah, silly Luna is editting again, but I'm totally excited right now. :-D Deep Blue now officially has a theme song! Go listen to "Dark Blue" by Jack's Mannequin NOW. It is the absolute most appropriate song for this fic I've ever heard (and not just because of the similarity in titles XD), so I have dubbed it the theme song. Mwaha. 8D