Everlasting Legacy - One
My hands slip through strands of black, through hair belonging to a face I no longer recognize. All that I learned from Zelda, I have applied to myself. My eyes, my body, my birthright, all are hidden so that I might walk among my companions without scrutiny. My given name I no longer remember it. So long has it been since any who mattered knew me by it.
They call me Ashei.
Auru, Renado, Shad, three who would think to call me their friend, three who would seek to thwart the King of Darkness without need for the cycle. They are the bravest people I have ever known. They stand defiant in the face of an overwhelming power, a hunger that would stretch across fields, across deserts, across mountains.
Were the cycle to falter, were the hero to fall, I would trust the future to them.
Yet here I stand: An imposter.
I wear armor of gold I'd like best never to use. In my hand, a blade I shall never touch. The cycle binds us all. Only I understand this, only I can comprehend the power it ho
Everlasting Legacy - ZeroEverlasting Legacy - Zero5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
His hair is like my father's, wavy, blond, blowing about carelessly in the wind. He smiles like my father, hugged like my father. And when he opens his eyes, they shine with a vivid bluejust like my father's. As they said, he was the same. Everything passed from one generation to the next.
Except for me.
I hold the boy close, gently pressing him to my breast. My feet struggle down the steep hillside without the use of my hands. Ordon Village lay below us. My deepest regret is that I cannot raise him, cannot nurture him as my parents would have wanted, remain as a mother, and teach him all that the Hero of Time would have wanted.
Now I am alone, torn from he who would be my son, from he who I would shield from inevitability. I am forced to watch from afar, watch as he grows, watch as he loves, watch as he falls victim to the cycle that has befallen all those before him, all those who would choose unbound by destiny.
My path is not that of the chosen hero, no matter whose blood flo
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Though such formalities are unnecessary, given the situation, I feel as though I must adhere to them. I am the only thing I can control. Though life is unwilling to involve me, and death is unwilling to claim me, I shall control how I lead my life. I choose to adhere to such formality because I can choose to.
I'm the only one with a choice anymore.
Zelda is beautiful, even when cast against the dark shadow of Twilight. Only we remained untouched by evil, by the plague of worlds that sweeps across the land. Only we know the truth, only we stand to comprehend a grand scheme larger than ourselves. In that fact, I find some comfort in.
"Princess." The mountain accent has become so natural I find it difficult to speak without falling into the guise of Ashei.
Zelda abandons formalities. She embraces me with more strength than I'd thought possible. She's too pale, too thin. Even with such strength behind her, she feels breakable. And though I reciprocate the affection, I do so with m
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All that remains of the Kokiri presence in Hyrule exists in this forest. Their playgrounds, their homes, their ruins. All that the current generation knows of the forest children came from this place, this place of death. One day, the Hylians marched into the woods and took what they thought was theirs.
they killed children.
I could do nothing. I'm not Kokiri. I'm not Hylian, Zora, Goron, or Fey. I'm nothing. To the invaders, I was nothing more than amild irritation. My words were ignored, my pleads disregarded. I was detained, forced to listen to the Kokiri as their home was set aflame, as trees crumbled, as their great protector died.
I've tried to convince myself that they are not their ancestors, that the children will grow away from the selfish beliefs of their parents, but I know it isn't true. Someday, Hyrule will be at war with itself again.
Someday, we won't need Ganondorf to drive us to our knees and put the sword to
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Hylians do not understand the nature of immortality, or even the nature of those granted unnaturally long lives. I see it in their stories, their legends, their folklore. They believe that time is a petty thing to us, that decades pass in minutes and years in seconds.
Time does not pass us by as they would like to believe. We cannot close our eyes and allow ourselves to slip into the next century. To usto me, time crawls. Our days mean just as much. We watch with learned eyes, waiting for signs of the familiar. Life drags itself across the ground in front of us, a slow, painful death.
Each decade means something. Each year means something. Each day means something. I canI appreciate the small happinesses life has granted me. Friendship. Love. Even as it all inevitably fades, I've come to revel in the brief moments of glory handed to me in between the long days of sadness.
My bishop moves diagonally from the center of the board "Check."
The walls of Hyrule Cas
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I no longer dwell on her as much as I once did, but she remains in my thoughts. Some call her the princess of destiny, fate to return time and time again alongside the Hero of Time. It is only now that she has been granted a role beyond that of the prototypical damsel in distress.
Surrender was the cost of mercy. The princess is taken so that the rest of Hyrule might be spared.
So here Zelda remains, forced to squander her existence in isolation as the rest of the world continues around her. She waits for the reincarnation of the hero to come to her rescue, just as the Hero of Time rescued her ancestor. And here she lies with me, naked body entangled with mine, clothes strewn indifferently across the floor.
she is very warm.
Her heart beats alternately with mine.
I don't understand our relationship, or whether it could exist outside of her containment. And my life. My life will not end as hers ends. Even at the end of her life, when her skin is withered an
Everlasting Legacy - FiveEverlasting Legacy - Five5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Link strafes, winded, trying to find a way through my defense, the Master Sword held tightly with both hands.
I am tired, but not debilitating so. He is the incarnation of my father, but I have been granted decades to perfect my skills. I have experience. He has the Triforce. Until he is given an opportunity to truly train with someone who exists outside the cycle of the hero, he will never be a true master.
I step forward, bringing my own sword crashing down on his.
The Master Sword tumbles to the ground with a clatter. Link falls backwards, only just catching himself. He is still too much of a boy. Barely more than a teenager. The life being forced on him isn't one he deserves.
He bends down to retrieve his weapon.
I put the tip of my sword to his head. "You're taking too many blows. Stop letting yourself get hit and I'll stop knocking you down." He is too much of a boy. Far too much of a boy. Ordon should be his life. The gods should have granted him just one more year to