A/N: This note is here because FF keeps moving my titles left of center!

Wanderlust

A Legend of Zelda Fanfiction

Written by Kabrex

Classic disclaimer: I don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise nor am I affiliated with it in any way. What I've created I've down out of humble tribute for a series I love and the only creative rights I claim are the ideas and characters I've created.

Important Note on the Universe

Wanderlust takes place in Twilight Princess era of Zelda, however, it is an alternate universe fanfiction. The overworld is roughly the same, just many times larger and the towns much more populous and akin to real cities and towns. Despite the fact that it's called Twilight Princess, the Twilight Realm does not exist in my story. Instead the Twili people are considered a sub-race of humans (like Hylians are).

Updates

No promises, but more likely than not it will be updated every few weeks. I am strongly against hold stories hostage for reviews, but if the story ends up getting more readers than I anticipated I will do my best to update quicker. As a university student with many hobbies I will make no promises though.

And Finally

I hope you enjoy the story. Put a lot of effort into writing the arcs and stuff while writing Tenacity so I have my fingers crossed that you'll like it!

Cheers :)

~~Wanderlust~~

The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.

- Christopher McCandless

xxx

Adventure is something every kid has dreamed of. Who wouldn't want to be the swashbuckling hero, roaming the lands without fear? Strike down an evil plotter here, cast down a dastardly villain there ... it's all in a day's work. Brushes with death are an occupational hazard but you never fail to sail through those with nary a scratch or bruise. Never forget that whirlwind romance either. At the end of the road the hero never fails to sweep up that pretty Princess into his arms and together they live happily ever after.

This has always been a dream of mine, and I'm sure you've wiled away a fair few nights wishing you were a hero too. One of my earliest memories is my father putting a toy sword in my hand, laughing as he pretended to be a naughty bandit or thief or some such villain. My Mum would play the kidnapped Princess and swoon when I rescued her. My father always let me win, but after we put down our play swords he'd pick me up and look me right in the eye.

"Any man can become skilled with a blade," he'd say. "But a sword is just a tool, like a hammer or a plough. What makes a man a hero isn't the quality of his swordplay, it's the quality of his heart. Never forget that." My Mum would watch from the door frame, a small smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes.

Then he'd stare at me for a moment with his deep blue eyes before tossing me into the air. We'd roll around laughing and he'd murmur, "You'll do great things one day, Link."

My father was Sir Grayson Ashlocke, an honoured knight who fought in the Argus War against the Twili. When the wars began he was just a simple soldier, but his bravery and valour on the field of battle earned him a place in the King's court. Before the wars even began, however, he met a young lady in the remote town of Ordon. They fell deeply in love and married, and with her he returned to Castle Town. That young woman was my mother, the Lady Valora Ashlocke, known to most as Lady Val. She is the kindest woman I've ever known, and beloved among the Poor and Wealthy districts of Castle Town alike.

And so it is with great regret that I was forced to part with these two extraordinary individuals, who were not only great spirits but also loving parents. I was six years old when they took a trip to visit my mother's family in Ordon. Since the road was long and dangerous, I was left in the safekeeping of another family, the Brycells. I became fast friends with the Brycell's daughter, Sylph. For the months my parents were away I found a kindred spirit in another child, and to this day I treasure the times we spent roaming the streets of Castle Town and exploring the Castle Grounds.

But the months my parents were absent started to blend together, and nearly four months passed before I began to realize something wasn't right. Sir Pyrice Brycell himself led a party of soldiers on a search party, but a month later they returned empty handed. Six year old me was slow to catch on, but the reality eventually found its way home; they weren't coming home.

I'm not ashamed to admit that for several months I cried myself to sleep. Ashlocke Hall was closed, but the King promised that it would be there for me when I became a man, on account of what my father did for the kingdom. King Belverius himself placed the key on a leather cord around my neck. The Brycells were real good about comforting me; in fact they took me in right then and there. Lady Alice would kiss my forehead the same way she kissed Sylph's and Pyrice treated me like his own son. I realize now the gravity of what they did for me, and I'll forever be indebted to them for the time I spent as a part of their household.

I spent a year with them, and soon I learned how to be happy once again. The shadow of my parents always lay between me and the other families of the court though. I was never able to play in the Castle Grounds or roam the streets again without a sympathetic glance cast in my direction, or a noble lady telling me I had my father's eyes. My mother, Lady Val, was well known on account of what she did for the poor. She often spent time in the less fortunate districts cooking meals for the hungry and helping sew clothes for those who could not afford a warm pair of their own. Too many of them knew me on account of her, and daily I was reminded of the kindness she did Castle Town, and how much I missed her still.

I celebrated my seventh birthday on the fifteenth of April, and already I felt like I was big and bold enough to take on the world. Sir Pyrice gave me a dagger, with an ornate hilt carved of silver and blade that shone with an unearthly light.

"That was your father's," he said to me solemnly. "He forged it himself, and the blade is made of Anadyrian steel. A blade does not feel, and it will cut its wielder as remorselessly as anyone else. Treat it with care and respect."

Lady Alice gave me a small green jerkin to wear around the courts, something she made herself. I have to say I found it rather awesome looking, and soon I wore it everywhere.

It was Sylph's present that I treasured most of all, however. That night before bed, she smiled shyly at me before giving me a quick kiss on the lips. At that moment I was smitten, convinced my life would already play out as idyllically as my parents love story before me.

My naiveté was laid bare, however, when I was snatched from this life of privilege not a week later. An uncle of mine, my mother's brother Axel, showed up in Castle Town looking for me. Since my parents had never reached Ordon, my mother's family had never known that they were missing. Only many unanswered letters finally revealed to them that something was clearly wrong, and Axel came here to find out what. He and Pyrice had a discussion and eventually Pyrice must have conceded I was better off with family. I bid Lady Alice a tearful goodbye and Pyrice shook my hand. Sylph embraced me in a crushing hug and only let go when Pyrice pulled her away.

I remember looking back, my vision blurry from tears as Axel carried me from their doorstep. I could see Sylph crying in the door frame, and Lady Alice and Sir Pyrice both looking solemn. As we turned the corner at the end of the street, Lady Alice waved a final goodbye, and I saw Pyrice give a soldier's salute.

This was the second time in as many years that my family was torn from me.

xxx

Axel and I eventually made it to Ordon, a remote town in the southern reaches of the Kingdom. The Clearwaters, my mother's family, welcomed me into the household, but this was one of the most frightening times of my life. Having only just lost the people I'd come to call family, I was thrust into another household filled with relatives I'd never met. For a seven year old boy, it was terrifying. I felt ostracized, frightened, and alone.

Eventually I started to accept this new home, and a semblance of normalcy returned to my life. The one person who made this possible was my cousin, Ilia Clearwater. I consider her a sister. She was a kind and warm girl, a year or two my elder but still eager to know me. In many ways she was like Sylph, and for that I was thankful. She taught me to ride, a hobby of hers, and introduced me to many of the other townsfolk. There were many ways she was unlike Sylph, however. She lacked the spirit of adventure that Sylph and I shared, and often lectured me on the merits of following the rules. Rule following is something I was never good at however, and I used to laugh as Ilia told me off.

Axel was a blacksmith, like my father was before he joined the Legion. It wasn't long before he took me under his wing and began to teach me the craft of forging. While I wasn't overly enthusiastic about this (in fact, I hated it), I was given more than one lecture on the difference between a comfy life in the courts to a much less well-off house in the reaches. I was told I would make myself useful, and begrudgingly I learned to forge. The one thing I wanted to make was a sword, but Axel only ever taught me to smith tools. He did the forging of weapons himself.

That desire to roam never left me though, that spirit of adventure. Despite the years that passed as I aged, the years when other children grew into their maturity and forgot their childhood dreams ... well, I never ceased to want to be a hero. I wanted to save maidens and cross blades with the dreaded Twili, the ones my father fought in the war. A hero's life seemed very glamorous to me, and I waited with baited breath for my chance to save the world.

Truth is, things are rarely that simple. I discovered that for myself all those years ago. Adventure isn't something to be prized or something to be found. Adventure is a way of life, a concept that you'll forever be seeking, and only by seeking it will you ever know it. Those who know it must accept that a life of adventure is a life of hardship and pain.

Not everyone who seeks it gets the opportunity to live it. There are those who lack the courage, too afraid to step beyond the bounds of their own doorstep to ever truly live. Then there are those reckless souls so eager to swing a sword or spill some blood, yet when they finally come face to face with an ogre in a dark alley they are woefully unprepared. There are some who can't wait to leave their hometowns, ready to face the world. More often than not, Hyrule swallows them whole and uses their bones as toothpicks.

Adventure is a popular concept in Hyrule. There's not a lot of adventurers, but there's no shortage of people willing to tell you a story. A lot of people in our land tell tales of the Hero of Time, a born warrior who united the land in a time of great turmoil. I don't know how much of his deeds were myth, but suffice to say I sincerely doubt he fought off an army of fallen angels and stopped the Dragon Courts of Othera. I don't even know if he was real, but damn do we have some good stories to tell about old Link.

That was his name, see? Link. I always thought it was a bit of a funny name myself, but I guess my parents thought different. My name is Lincoln Ashlocke. My father wanted to name me after a great warrior but changed it to Lincoln to make it more acceptable to the nobles. Doesn't stop anyone and everyone from calling me Link though.

This isn't a story about the Hero of Time. We have enough of them already. This is my story, and if you are one of the few who will ever read it, I want you to know that all of it is true. I'm not a born warrior. I'm not a chosen hero. Destiny didn't script my fate. I was simply born to run free, and the only reason I'm still alive is a combination of good luck and better friends. I'm not proud of everything I did, but I did what I had to do because circumstances forced me to do it.

This all begins in the modest village of Ordon. I was sixteen years old, nearly a man grown. I'm about six feet tall, stronger than an ox, devilishly handsome, frighteningly charming and modest to a fault. You get the picture. You really do, since I've included my picture in the cover of this journal, just for you.

This is my story. This is a true story. This is a story about love. This is a story about daring. This is a story of kings and queens, of beggars and thieves. Of courts and crowns, and of taverns and brawls.

This is a story about the spirit of adventure.

This is wanderlust.