A happier short (part one)

For Leeann since she wanted a "happier" one... same set of circumstances, but a slightly different approach on how the people involved might react. Which do you guys think fits better with Seven Years/Before there was Light?

Happily Ever After, alternate take


Toran surveyed his bedroom with a satisfaction he knew was probably unwarranted. Every day a servant girl named Litham cleaned the room from top to bottom, and every day Toran did his best to ensure the girl was kept employed. Litham might find his messy life style aggravating, but Toran knew for a fact it was the only reason that she was still on staff... and her only relative was her nearly dead grandmother... why, it'd be a shame to live a clearer lifestyle... cause a young girl and her grandmother to starve, what kind of king could do that?

Besides, in all honesty, he really had no time to keep the richly furnished room clean. He was only just out of the exceedingly long war meeting, and dawn was scant hours away. As he surveyed the room, Toran glanced to the empty bed and sighed. Zelda up late again... he had pleaded with her to get to bed early tonight, and she had promised to make an effort, but domestic problems more often than not took precedent over sleep for the dedicated queen.

"Narue love you Zel..." Toran murmured, walking to the bed, "if there was some way to make your life easer I'd go for it..."
But he knew there wasn't. Many, many nights ago, Impa had warned him this would happen. Apparently her husband, Lord Fiate had been every bit as dedicated to making life better for his subjects. It was good for a nation, but hard on the ruler.

The door opened behind him, and Toran glanced over his shoulder to see a servant boy. His pretty, large, eyes looked as though sleep should have visited them hours ago. Most likely it was the page attending Zelda in the audience chamber, sent to inform him not to wait up for his wife. Sighing again, Toran turned and nodded.
"Sir, a message for you... a young man is waiting for you in the outer court."
"A man?" If this was Link, so help him...
"Plain Shiekah clothing... he said it was a matter of utmost urgency."
Toran nodded and dismissed the boy with a wave. A Plain Shiekah? That could not bode well... perhaps it was just word dissent among one of the Clans, though more like it would be something much darker for the respect driven people to call him forth at this hour. Slipping a reddish brown tunic over his white shirt and hose, Toran chose his brown riding boots and a sturdy belt. It was something comfortable and utilitarian, things he enjoyed at this hour of the morning, and things a Shiekah would value as much as pomp and grandeur.


The night was warm, but rain was obviously looming. It seemed as though a good old-fashion Hylian storm was brewing. Toran smiled slightly as he looked up to the dark cloudy sky... Zel would have killed to be out in this. He walked across the grass of the outer court, tying on a green cloth headband to keep his lank hair out of his face. He had used to feel unselfconscious about it when first arriving at the palace, but he had found out that Lord Fiate had nearly always wore one as well, and officially crushed his hesitancies.

It was dark, but Toran soon spotted the Shiekah near the hidden back entrance to the palace grounds. He was standing with his back to Toran, asumedly gazing intently up at the sky. A slender white horse was next to the Shiekah, obviously bread for speed rather than as a war charger. Toran approached, adjusting the shoulder belt that kept his katana strapped to his back. He wasn't really sure why he had grabbed it... it wasn't as though he'd be needing it. Not that he didn't miss saving people in a more direct fashion, but no one, not even one of the Shiekah, walked into Hyrule Palace and expected the king to rush off and help save distressed farm children.

The Shiekah must have heard him approach, for he glanced quickly over his shoulder. the normal high collar over the mouth and nose obscured most of the Shiekah's face, but the red eyes were viable, along with the yellow bangs that stuck out over the face. The rest of the hair fell into a single long braid that fell to about mid back. After giving Toran a quick look, the Shiekah returned to gazing up at the sky. The horse pawed at the ground softly, and Toran came closer.

"A restless night," his odd voice murmured, "there was a time when no king of Hyrule would dare sleep on such a vespers."

"There was also a time," Toran responded, stopping just out of striking range, "when no Shiekah would dare stand with his back turned to a Hylian monarch... has the vaunted respect of the Shiekah Clans been forgotten by those of the plains?"
"Time is too precious tonight to squander it on formality," the Shiekah replied, pointing to the horse, "I took the liberty of fetching you a horse from the stables, mine awaits just outside... please hurry."
"I do not even know why you are here," Toran ventured, hand ever so slightly moving to draw the katana. He was by now very greatful of its presence.
"There are Plain Shiekah near your family's estates... the Akinda House... because I am fastest in the clan I was sent to bring you there tonight. Now, we must hurry."
"Forgive me if I require some proof..." Toran growled, falling into his ready stance.
"Of course..." the Shiekah turned and held out a surprisingly slender hand. However, it was what lay in the open palm that caught Toran's eye. A fine gold chain, with a small pendant, dominated by a hazel emerald. Toran recognized it instantly. He had given it to his sister Jistine many, many years ago, and had promised her that if anyone ever showed it to him, he would instantly come to her. It was a signal, something that not even Zelda had known about.

Reaching out, Toran snatched the necklace almost violently away.
"Where is Jistine, what has happened?"
"Fear not for her safety, only ride with me quickly to your family hunting lodge... there is little time left!"
Toran no longer need a second bidding. He had to go, and fast. Even if Jistine's life was not in danger, she would not have send away the necklace idly. Still, his wife...
"I will have to send a message to Queen Zelda, she will be worried at my absence..."
"I had arranged for that ahead of time," the young Shiekah replied, and Toran almost thought he heard a smirk in the words, "the REAL power behind Hyrule's throne will of course be kept informed..."
"Irritating Shiekah," Troan muttered to himself, taking the horse's reins to led it outside.


The Shiekah's black horse was of a similar build to the Toran now mounted. He had noticed on closer inspection that the horse the man had "borrowed" for him was, in fact, Snowmane, his wife's favorite ride for over Hyrule's rolling plains. As the two began to gallop forward, Toran pulled next to the Shiekah messenger.
"So, what is this all about?"
"Do not worry about the details just yet," the figure was shrouded a bit in the cloudy night, "no one is hurt, but someone might be if your aid arrives too late!"
Toran bit back a frustrated reply. For a messenger, the Shiekah was annoyingly vague. Not to mention surprisingly discurtious... true the only Shiekah he knew on any real level were Impa and Aniee, but neither of them would ever act like this. Anee might be sweeter than the dark Mistress of the Taraja Art, but even she was always polite and unassuming.

"Could I at least cry your name?" Toran at last growled, fighting down his frustration.
"Would you recognize it?"
The reply took Toran aback, but it made some sense. Growling again, he turned his attention back to the horse.

The Akinda Family Hunting Lodge was a good three day's ride from the palace. Toran did not know if the Shiekah with him expected them to go it nonstop, but he was worried about his sister and more than up for that challenge. However, shortly before dawn, his Shiekah companion pulled his horse's reigns up, drawing to a halt. Toran followed suit, then walked his horse over the other rider. The figure looked out to the east, at a blood red dawn. Whistling in a concerned manner, the figure glanced back up to the cloudy sky.

"We should strike out straight east here..."
"That's not the way," Toran replied, taken aback.
"We are not headed to your hunting lodge," the Sheikah replied, "a large storm is coming that will slow us too much. We need to get to a hidden warp point near here..."
"Warp points?" Toran mumbled to himself, "haven't heard of any of those being around since my lost years..."
"Come, time is still short!" The shiekah called, kicking his horse to movement.
Sighing for the hundredth time that night, Toran followed, even as the rain began to trickle from the sky.

A Short Story

Because I'm not getting any inspiration for my real stories and can't get to sleep...

Closing his eyes, Hythe let his hands drift up, right one not far from his chin, the other level but extended out slightly. All his muscles were relaxed, yet ready to spring into action with the fluidity and grace of flowing water when called upon. His knees were bent ever so slightly, weight fading more on his back right leg, yet not so much to prevent quick movement to all angles. It was textbook Sharenda posture, the fighting style his clan had used for generations. Taking a deep breath, Hythe launched into the kata.

"You are of the House of Comvarda... the blood of Hyrule's greatest kings flows through your veins. Nobility, honor, poise, courage... these virtues are not optional for one of your station. Fate dictates what destiny awaits each man, but it is up to you to decide what you will do with that fate... I trust my son will not disappoint..."

Hythe's right hand ball into a fist as it fell waist level, left arm whipping up and around in a blocking motion. He then shifted his forward left leg back, right arm puylling up and around in a second blocking strike. Sliding into a more squared stance, Hythe's left arm shot out, chest high for the blow. He pulled back the arm immediately, crossing with a right straight at chin height. At this point he would have fulfilled the basics of the defensive kata, but he was well beyond basics. Flipping into a back hand spring, Hythe landed in a pitcher perfect image of his original starting stance. This time however, the right hand whipped out and around for the block, left leg sliding back as he did so. The left arm crossed in a blocking strike as soon as the right had finished passing in front of his body, even as his legs bent into the horse stance. Hythe paused only a moment, to find the center in this new position. Legs squared, weight equally distributed over them, arms a few inches from his sides, bent at the elbows so his fist were straight out before him... classic Horse Stance.

"You a brother of the Comvarda Clan. Mistress Aniee, Master Gijen, Master Kaji, Master Bratek, and even the great Mistress Impa are among your ancestors. There is no room for weaklings amongst the Shiekah, and even less in our clan. You will become a master, and you will become an elder... or you WILL bring shame on us all."


Hythe eyes opened for the first time. Defense be damned... it was time to show what he was made of. Giving a cry, Hythe's right fist shot out in a fluid strike of razor precision and measured strength. As the right pulled back, Hythe let his left fist strike forward, this time not pausing as long after the strike before pulling back to his stance. There was form... now came speed. With a few sharp cries to punctuate the movements, Hythe's hands flew into level punches so fast it was a blur even to his own eyes. As soon as his rythem had been established, the combinations began. Only slight variations, a hint of hook and twist to the blows that continued to pulmult the imaginary spot in the air before him, but it was enough to show some diversity. After a barrage of the lighting fast combo, Hythe decided the time had come to surprise the ones watching his every lithe movement. His hands continued their fast paced attack, even as he shifted from the open Horse Stance back into the angled Sharenda Stance. Whipping about suddenly, Hythe launched into a flurry of kicks, their form, speed, and precision all at a level beyond anyone watching could have possibly suspected. And Hythe knew all too well just what was expected...

"The Hero Line, you idiot... why, Link, Reese, Zinus, Cajus... you know, the ones the peasants tell bed time stories about? Their our ancestors, all of them. Well, brother, that means either you or I get to be the Hero this time around, and there is no way in Dark Void I'm gonna lose to an idiot like you... but just try to keep us from looking bad..."

It had all been perfection to this point, even beyond perfection, but that wasn't enough. He had to do more! Was he not Hythe Comvarda, descendant of kings? Was he not Hythe, best of the Comvarda Clan? Was he not Sir Hythe, inheritor of the Hero Legacy? He would not be constrained to anyone else's pathetic view of "perfection!"

Falling back again, Hythe adopted the Taraja Stance of his clan's long dead ancestors. There had been several "masters" of the art, but not since the death of Mistress Impa had there been a true master of the most deadly art in the Shiekah training. He actually heard the ripple of a murmur spread through the ones watching him. Of course they were suprised... who would dare risk jeprodizing their Eldership Evaluations over an Art long considered dead?

Only the greatest would have tried it... and Hythe Comvarda needed, had to be, no, WAS the greatest.

"The time has come to face reality as fate has presented it... your sister will be no true master of any Art..."
"Her injuries were too great, and though her Spirit Force might help her remain a Sage, she could never take on the burden of Hero..."
"You will be the one who will represent Comvarda Clan at the Master Trials next season, our soul student."
"Son, I urge you to earn your mother's love, and my respect..."

Fijin, Ran Hook, Jab, Jab, Straight Left Jab, Straight Right Jab, Left Hook, Right Hook, Ran Hook again, Snap Kick, Head Kick Follow, Rijin, Whirlwind Strike, Nerve Jab, Jab, Jab, Jab, Roundhouse, Back Hand Spring... the bare fact that he had made it this far with flawless execution was something that caused the watching Masters and Elders rise to their feet. But now the time had come to show them all something that the Shiekah would speak of only in whispers for years to come... he would complete the full Taraja kata. Shifting all his weight back onto his right foot, Hythe's right hand fell back to waist level, left out in front. Closing his eyes Hythe stilled his soul for a millisecond that seemed to last a lifetime. He just had to channel that power... out of his soul... down his arm... into the fist as it hooked forward... Just that, and his father might respect him... his mother might love him... his life might actually be worth something... And he did it. The small, tell-tail whiff of Spirit Force steam drifting off the hand let everyone who had reasonably quick eyes know...

Hythe had just become the first Shiekah to preform the Kensi Strike in over two hundred years.

They no longer waited in silence... this was not something to be ignored. The brothers, sisters, and even some of the master and mistresses, were either slamming their fists on the stone, yelling out in surprise and excitement, or pointing wildly off, as if to draw attention to the very thing everyone was watching.

Hythe whipped the right arm out and around, left swinging out in a blocking motion. A useless part of the kata... as if anyone could actually survive a direct Kensi Strike... and then it was over, back into the starting possession. The Shiekah watching him screamed in excitement. The few Hylians around were more reserved, obviously hesitant about the stir this act had caused in the gathered warriors (and obviously relieved that Hythe was in fact a member of one of their OWN Noble Houses).

And there it was... he was now Hero, Master, Elder, and Prince... everything that was require of him.

Yet somehow, standing before the hullabaloo he had just caused, Hythe still felt empty...