Yes. I've cracked.

Welcome, all of you lovely people, to the sequel to Link's Reward!

I debated long and hard about whether I wanted to write this. And now, here it is! My newest baby.

A quick warning: it's probably completely different than any of you ever imagined js. I hope you guys like it, but I do know for a fact that it son't be anything you expect. Enjoy it anyway!

The story is completely finished, so you won't have to worry about ANY long delays. I will update the story every two-four days. Just because I love you people so much.

QUICK SHOUT-OUT TO Nightwing94 FOR GIVING ME THE IDEA FOR THIS AMAZING TITLE.

(you rock and you're sexy)

As a warning, this story contains cursing and some (extremely mild) sexual content. That's why there's a T-rating.

Now, without further ado...

Enjoy, you amazing people.

Enjoy.

Chapter One: Old Woman with an Arched Back

An old woman with an arched back and shaky hands was walking through the center of Castle Town. She sat down on the edge of the fountain, tightening her thin shawl around her arms. It was her thin shawl because it was the middle of summer, and she had decided that wearing her thick one would have been too warm. As she listened to the running water and the excited screams of children and breathed in the fresh morning air, she found herself thinking about the soldier again. The soldier that she had seen on the steps a few weeks ago. His face passed fleetingly across her mind, and she cursed her failing memory. Perhaps it was simply because there were too many voices clouding her thoughts. Or perhaps the sun was too bright in her eyes.

"What was his name again?" she murmured. "Ah, it's useless."

She remembered him only as the beautiful soldier in the green tunic. Not even his eye color was clear in her mind. The old woman began rubbing her hands together to feel the silky fabric of her shawl between her palms. It was of the finest fabric—she had received it from the King of Hyrule himself. She laughed at herself thinking about how long ago that must have been. Watching the people pass by in the plaza had become a hobby for her. So while she sat on the edge of the fountain, she watched the people. An old man passed by her. She wished that she knew his name so that she could call out to him and introduce herself.

"We old people have to stick together," she laughed to herself.

Always to herself.

Her gaze moved to the spot where she had seen the soldier with the faint hope that she would see him standing there again. She enjoyed speaking with him. She enjoyed wiping his tears and holding his hand. And she had a very important question to ask him. If only she knew his name.

The old woman stood up with her arched back and shaky hands and creaky knees. She shuffled, still rubbing the shawl beneath her palms, to the nearest guard.

"Excuse me. Where can I find the soldier in the green tunic?"

He looked down at her with his straight back and steady hands and quiet knees. She could see the confused expression in his eyes as they peered through his helmet.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am?"

"The soldier. In the green tunic. I want to speak with him."

"I'm afraid I don't understand. There are a lot of soldiers wearing green tunics."

"No, no, no," she sighed, waving her wrinkled hand in frustration. "No, not a green tunic. The green tunic. The young man, in the green tunic!"

The soldier began nodding and fiddling with his spear.

"You must mean Master Link."

"Yes! That was his name," she smiled. "Link. Now, where can I find him?"

The old woman argued with the guards standing in front of the castle gates for at least ten minutes before they conceded that there was absolutely nothing dangerous about her and let her inside. If there was one good thing about being old, she thought, it was that she had had years and years to perfect her skills in arguing. With a coy grin playing on her old lips, she hobbled past them, and they stared after her with wide eyes. But she just kept walking and rubbing her palms together and smiling to herself.

"I really am an old woman," she said.

Then she walked through the large gates leading into the castle. The main hall was as large as she remembered it—as large and as beautiful. Portraits of nobles she knew and portraits of nobles she didn't know adorned the walls. They stared down at her with serene, calm eyes. As if saying, "Welcome to our home." She grinned back up at them and said, "Thank you." When she reached the end of the hallway, she stopped in front of one portrait in particular. It was of a young woman. Her soft blue eyes sparkled even in the portrait. There was the slightest hint of a smile on her thin lips, not enough to make her seem happy and not enough to make her seem sad. She was sitting in a red velvet chair, an intricate dress falling like water over her limbs, and her delicate fingers lay clasped in her lap.

"You almost look more like a princess in death than in life, my dearest."

The old woman let her fingers graze the name written beneath the frame. The inscription said, She who gave all she had to give and more.

The hall was empty and large. Each footstep she took resounded like a symphony. And even though she hadn't been inside the castle in years—not since the King of Hyrule passed away—she remembered the labyrinth. She remembered where to turn, which doors to open, who to say hello to and who to ignore. Nobody even bothered to say anything to the strange old woman walking, as if she was a princess, through the halls of the castle.

She found herself standing in front of two large wooden doors. The shawl fell from beneath her hands as she wrapped it around her neck and pressed her palms against the etched engravings of the door. She scratched a little bit, to feel the ancient beauty beneath her fingernails. And then, groaning with the effort, she pushed the doors open and walked into the castle's library.

Even when she had spent her days frolicking around the castle, she had seldom visited the library. It was much bigger than she remembered, with so many books that her eyes began to ache simply looking at them. The symbols were just swirls, lovely designs meant for people much younger than her to read. And it was much more quiet than anywhere she had ever been. She could hear the pages of the books rustling against each other, calling out to be read. The old woman sighed and her back arched more and she began weaving her way around the shelves, around the books, around the swirls, around the colorful tapestries and sunny windows.

Then she saw a table. Someone was sitting at the table. A book was open but there was nothing being read, for the person sitting at the table had fallen asleep. As she inched closer, she wondered if she had come to the right place. The person was not wearing a green tunic. But when she sat down at the table across from the person and glanced at his face, crushed against the pages of the book in accidental slumber, she knew that she had come to the right place. This was the soldier she had been looking for. She waited desperately for him to open his eyes so that she could see what color they were, but then the waiting became too much. She had never been a patient person, after all.

The old woman tapped his flushed cheek.

The young soldier (who wasn't wearing the green tunic) lifted his head slowly, drifting out of a dream.

Blue, she nodded. His eyes are blue. And so like a wolf's.

He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his sandy, disheveled hair, and then he stared at the old woman with a blank expression. She couldn't count the number of times she had seen people look at her like that.

"Hello," the old woman greeted. The young soldier blinked, took a deep breath, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth. His face looked heavy, as if he hadn't rested in years.

"Hello."

"How are you today?"

"Fine."

"You seem very tired."

"So do you."

She opened her mouth and laughed, because it was true. She was very tired.

"You can read people well," she said.

"I'd like to think so."

Without a word, she extended her crooked arm across the table. The young man reached forward and let his hand rest in hers. She began stroking it, knowingly, like a mother soothing her crying child. Because even though there were no tears, she could hear his heart. It was weeping.

"When am I going to see your portrait up on these walls?" she asked.

"A few weeks."

"How exciting."

"As long as they put mine next to hers, I don't mind it."

"A simple request."

"Yes," he yawned.

And then, just as she had been expecting, he lifted his other hand to his chest and retrieved a necklace from beneath his collar. A necklace with a ring. Trembling, he began to graze the ring's surface with his fingertips. It was like an instinct, a reflex. He had long ago broken eye contact with the old woman, but she continued to stare at those penetrating blue eyes. In all of her years, she had seen so few eyes that looked like his—that shined as brightly, even in the midst of terrible sorrow.

"How did you even find me?" he asked.

"I asked where the soldier wearing the green tunic was. They told me you were probably in the library."

"I don't wear that green tunic anymore."

"I saw you wearing it a couple of weeks ago."

"I only wear it when I need to."

"Why were you wearing it that day?"

"Because it was her anniversary."

"Ah."

The old woman squeezed the young soldier's hand more tightly. He finally smiled at her. An obscure, quiet, thankful smile. He closed his eyes for a few moments, as if desperate to watch the images flashing behind his eyelids.

"Why did you want to find me?" he asked.

"I wanted to ask you a question."

Their conversation was interrupted by a guard rushing up to the table, spear in hand. The young man and the old woman stared up at him, still grasping each other's hands. She hated interruptions, but she should have been expecting it. She should have known what precious little time she had with him.

"What is it?" the young soldier sighed.

"Master Link, the Royal Council wishes to consult with you."

"Very well. Tell them I'm on my way."

The guard nodded and gathered himself up and rushed off again, leaving the old woman in a state of exasperation. Still holding her hand, the young soldier stood up and closed his book. Sunlight flooded in from the window behind him and made him look like he was made of gold. Smooth and sparkling and absolutely lovely.

"What was the question you wanted to ask me?"

The old woman finally let go of his hand and patted it lightly.

"Just this one. Have you decided whether you're going to swim with the current of destiny's river, or are you going to fight it?"

Then, the young soldier truly smiled. It was a smile of relief, of satisfaction with himself. He leaned forward and kissed the old woman's forehead. His lips were cool and young against her warm and old skin.

"I'm going to fight it," he whispered.

As he walked away, she saw him tucking the necklace back beneath the cloth of his tunic. The old woman watched his back until it hurt her eyes to narrow them that much, and then turned her gaze to the book in front of her. Tears filled her eyes.

It was a book about the ancient Temple of Time.

Carlotta stood up from her chair, rubbed her shawl between her hands, and left the castle.