Young Writers Society

Long-overdue second part to the beginning of a three-part oneshot based on my fanfiction posted (not on YWS) here. Warning: there may be spoilers for the end of that story in here. Read at your own risk.

(This is also a lot shorter than the last part. Made up for in the third part, which is also probably going to take a while before it's complete to my satisfaction and ready to post. So don't get excited when you read the ending here... O_O *stutters* I mean--uh--enjoy! ^^; xDD

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Hero’s Sacrifice
Interval: The Peace

The first big one came almost two months after the wedding. Kel had been acting strange, especially in the mornings, and sometimes snapped at me for little things. One day she disappeared for a couple hours without anything more than a “Be back soon” note on the dining table. The same night, however, she told me the why behind the bad moods.

“What would you do if I told you you were going to be a father?” the she-devil asked very slyly.

At first, I thought it was meant to be an in-the-distant-future question. But then she actually said that phrase, and I had trouble wrapping my mind around the concept. A range of emotions I’d never experienced at the same time flowed through me: confusion from shock; embarrassment from realizing how it had happened; then, finally, elation.

Me? A father? I’d never thought it would happen. I myself had believed my birth parents to be dead for as long as I’ve been alive. I never really had much of a childhood, either, unless you count the period from when I was orphaned to the day I left Kokiri Forest. All I remember of that far-away time are Mido’s beatings and adventures with Saria.
To think that I could raise a daughter of my own… It was blissfully mindboggling, if there is such a thing. Kel and I spent hours talking about what we might do with her, what hobbies she might like, whether or not we’d encourage her in the pursuit of swordsmanship or other careers, and—most importantly—what to name her.

We both worried about what she would grow up to be like, though, especially with our shadow over her. I had never had any parenting except some vague advice from the Great Deku Tree, who was always a very distant authority figure to me; as long as we didn’t do something majorly damaging to the forest (which was nearly impossible), we almost never saw him in his secluded meadow. I only hoped I could keep my child from turning into a Mido.

Kel had a little more confidence in our abilities, however. “After all, we are heroes in our own right,” she cheekily reminded me during one nightly conversation. “She’ll inherit goodness as much as be raised to it.”

There was no doubt in our minds that the child would be a girl; Kel was part Gerudo, and as such could only bear a female child. Or so we thought.

Seven months later, we were proven wrong.

My delight when I stepped in the room and saw Kel holding two newborns was boundless. We hadn’t expected that she would give birth to twins (though, now that I think about it, the signs were there the whole time), let alone a son. Immediately we started solidifying ideas not only for our lovely daughter Cassandra, but for Patroklos as well. I could already see us teaching them how to ride on our mares, Epona and Katara, and then having mock jousts when they were older. Those were certainly skills only useful for combat, but they could be enjoyable as a family, too.

The fact that I was now the father of the Gerudo king didn’t even occur to me until Kel’s aunt and the tribe’s Chieftess, Nabooru, visited us a few months later. I imagine that my shock upon having her tell me this was rather amusing; I distinctly remember feeling lightheaded and having to take a seat shortly thereafter.

Everything we’d started to make ready for the future made a sudden reversal. We had wanted to settle for good in Tauro, where not many people knew us and we could keep to ourselves. But Pat would have to relocate to the Gerudo Desert sometime in order to become acquainted with the tribe, meaning we would be giving up either him or our quiet life in the northern hamlet.

I realized, then, a startling similarity between my son and I; we had both been born into roles preordained by deities. I couldn’t help but feel a little resentment and an influx of protectiveness at this thought. If he didn’t want to accept that role, then I swore I would fight through the whole tribe or even duel Amadeus a second time to uphold that choice. I hadn’t had a choice; I would make sure he did.

Cassie had the easier road—with looks the equal of her mother’s, she could easily blend into any Hylian settlement and forge her own life. She could stay in Tauro and marry a local boy, spending her days raising her own children and making a contribution to the quickly-growing village. If she had the ambition, she could train with us until she was old enough to go off to Hyrule Castle and stay with Aunt Vanessa as part of the royal guard. And, of course, she could always follow her brother into the tribe of her heritage; they could certainly teach her more than Kel could, as she hadn’t even known she was from Hylia until five years ago.

No matter what they chose, however, I’d be no less proud of them. I at least wanted to give them the best lives I could, considering the kind of existence I’d led until I met their mother.

All that changed three years later, with the worst surprise of my life.

Ganon had returned.