A Terminian and the Twilight of Danger (MM/OoT Fanfic)

Are You Willing to Die?

Nearing the final battle! Oh gosh, I'm excited! Enjoy!
-Jooostan

A Terminian and the Twilight of Danger
Chapter 24: Are You Willing to Die?

After finding the Gilded Sword, Link returned home in a good mood. But, when he rose to greet the new morning, his head was stuck in the clouds. He knew it was about time to form a plan. A plan to finally defeat the witches and their dark pawn.

Entering the bathroom, Link undressed and prepped himself to wash up. All the dirt, sweat, and blood had started to irritate his nose, and the scent spread to his sheets. As he got his tunic off, he stared at the mirror, and back at himself. He had new scars lining his body, some on his chest, some on his arms, some even on his face. After a moment he looked down and sighed, stepping into the tub for a bath.

As he sat, surrounded by the water, he thought. For what seemed like an eternity, he was alone, and he contemplated whether or not it was truly best to continue going down the path he was headed. Over a month ago, it would've been an easy thing to answer. Now, however, the hero and the commoner were split evenly, and both wanted to go separate ways.

Link placed himself at his desk and held his pencil. Beneath his hands was his journal, and in it were lines of possible ideas. Some were scribbled out, some had little notations saying, 'think about more', and some were just there to get the stupid things out of his mind.

At the very bottom of the page was something different. It was to a friend. Link wanted to tear it off and burn it, but his conscience wouldn't let him. In small lettering, it read, 'Forgive me'.

For over an hour the teenager in green sat there in silence, mind struggling to come up with a decently fine plan. All he could think about was their plan. To bring Ganon back. Every time he played with the thought, it sent a chill down his spine.

The only sound that could be heard was the scratching of a pencil on paper. Every few minutes it'd resume, and then stop a few seconds later. Then the chair would creak and there'd be a soft 'hm'. Perhaps boots would shuffle, but other than that, it was unnervingly quiet.

Then there was a knock.

"Come in." Link said, keeping his attention on the journal. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the short, curled, red hair that only belonged to his mother. A smile crept onto the boy's face as he greeted her.

"Honey... I wanted to talk." Anju said, looking to her boy.

"Alright." Link replied softly, not thinking much of the prospect.

Anju opened the door further and slowly walked over to Link's bed. She made a mental note of the faint smell she picked up from it. Adjusting herself on the sheets, she folded her hands together and started to talk.

"Romani told me about yesterday. About how you saw... him. And you two fought." Anju began, averting her eyes. She hadn't a clue why, but she felt the need. Something about how she thought her son would react made her nervous.

"Oh..." Link's mood lessened. His own eyes gravitated to the floor and his voice became a mumble. "What else did she say?"

"Well..." The innkeeper grew more anxious. A little part of her told herself to leave the matter be. It'd solve itself and wouldn't be any kind of problem. But her motherly instincts begged to continue. It felt so familiar.

"She said that you had this- glint in your eyes... That it was almost hard to... r-recognize you." Anju said, her voice a little weary. She didn't want to delve into Link's personal affairs, even though she was his mother. While adoptive, the bond of mother and son had been established years ago, and it still kept strong. To Link, she was his mother, and to Anju, he was her son.