Link felt his heart drop into his stomache and lurched forward, nearly toppling over, to retch. He was grateful his friend was not there to see him in such a state... Ryan did not need to watch him die to.
Though both young men knew that cold and hard truth...
The virus was winning.
The Hero of Time shivered, pushing off his knees to stand upright, and wiped away the prespiration collecting on his forehead. Episodes were coming closer and closer together over the course of their journey... that damned Garland's foolish antics hadn't helped them either.
The Prince was currently sleeping, snugly, at the fire without much worry on his mind.
It was an odd portait of solace and pain that sat framed above the grand staircase leading into the upper rooms that were used very little anymore. Turning his green eyes away from the old painting, Ryan Albertine glanced at the young man leaning against the doorway that lead toward the guest rooms.
"You realize that they would hate you torturing yourself, right?" The youth, Ryan's friend, was blonde haired that had very little neatness to it even when freshly combed, striking blue eyes, and a handsome face. His name was Link and, like Ryan, he was of the a soldier of Hyrule's Royal Guard.
The soft featured nobleman gave a sad nod and Link
In a perfect world, the Albertines would have been alive and well... Link would have his arms around his beloved and there would be snow on the ground.
Of course, this was not a perfect world.
But, it was one that Ryan Albertine was happy to live in none-the-less for it was a special Holiday. A holiday of giving and celebrating those in your life and loved ones passed. He could manage a smile with the bright glowing of a fireplace and ornaments hanging off the garland draped around the grandstaircase.
"You are completely boring today." The Chancellor's son smirked, leaning against a column with his arms crossed in front of his chest. "What
He sat in the cell he had known for a long fourteen years.
A room of darkness but filled with such abrasive light that he was sure he was blind until he stared down at his hands. Hands that had known Power.
Hands that had held the world... once.
Ganondorf, the King of Evil, sat alone in battered armor with a shredded cape draped across his shoulders. A ruined man fit for the throne torn out beneath him by a boy in green with a few ounces of courage.
"Bah." A sneer wrinkles up olive skin and the man spits out a blot of blood onto the pristine white floor... or what he believes is the floor. He does not quite understand the dimmensions of h