Hi.

Here's the thing. There are roughly fifteen days until Breath of the Wild releases. And I am going to try really hard to stop looking up more information about it. To achieve this, I will attempt to write one chapter a day for this story. I have never attempted to be so productive, especially with so much work already on my plate. So... I might fail, but we'll see. Maybe it'll help you pass the time, too.

Right. Let's try something different with this AU. Some of you who followed along years ago may recall I once mentioned basing a fic on a Bollywood movie that I love because it's so bad, it's good. I guess this is going to be it, albeit so drastically altered in both plot and time period that I might be the only one who considers that there is any resemblance to the movie. Also, there will be no choreographed dance numbers in this fic. Unfortunate, I know.

Okay, let's go. (Again, super duper terrible at titles.)

Chasing Moonlight
By CM

PROLOGUE

Link strode shivering into the Forester home, brushing snow off his lapel and shoulders, and hung his hat absently onto its usual peg. Then, he shrugged his coat off, and shivered again. The narrow house was silent and neither of his siblings' coats were there, which made him certain that he was the first one home.

Removing his boots, he entered the diminutive living room, setting them by the coal stove. With cold fingers, he lit the fire and waited for his hands to warm up.

The workday had been terrible. Another illness was going around Ordon, and he had been forced to pick up the slack for his sick workmates, delivering packages across town in his boss' truck. Around noon, he'd gotten stuck in a snowbank, which had broken one of the wheel spokes, and Mr. Hanch had mournfully told him the repairs would have to come out of his paycheck, which had made all the extra work completely worthless.

Sniffing and feeling the tip of his nose grow warmer as the stove began heating the room at last, Link pondered his situation and hoped Dark or Aryll had been luckier in their fortunes. Rent was overdue and the pile of coal in the cellar was growing steadily smaller.

His stomach grumbled. Yeah, there was that, too.

A cold draft was wafting from the narrow window, and Link noticed that the cloth they'd set against the cracks had become soaked through from the snow. Grunting, he stood and walked over to the window, pulling the soggy, dirty dishcloth away from the sill, to replace it with a dry one.

Which was when he saw the car in the street.

Link wasn't the only one to notice it. A few of the neighbourhood boys were admiring it audibly, huddled together in their frayed coats and caps, until the driver shooed them away with an impatient gesture. They scampered away like only boys could: loudly and with a mix of fear and excitement.

Cars like that, with its fresh, shiny coat of black paint and polished silver headlights, did not usually frequent industrial soot-grimed back alleys like the cul-de-sac the Forester siblings lived on, which was why Link felt queasy.

The driver opened the backseat passenger door, letting the car's occupant out, and Link let out a cuss.

Ducking to hide, and worried he'd been seen anyway, he crawled back towards the stove, grabbing his soggy boots and hopping on one foot to slip them back on. Outside, he heard the snow crunching under polished leather boots, and by the time he had managed to re-equip both boots, the front steps were creaking under the weight of his visitor.

"Shit," he hissed to himself, scampering towards the back of the house, where the claustrophobic kitchen had yet to warm up, and swung open the back door.

Only to come face to face with Onox Gorgon.

Realizing he'd been outdone, Link sighed in defeat. Onox filled the doorjamb and let himself into the house, shutting the door behind him, and crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Out front, there was a knock at the door. It was polite, but only just.

"You should get that," Onox said, with a tone that brokered no argument.

There was no use delaying the inevitable. Link trudged back to the front of the house, just as another knock was heard, this time more insistent.

"Yeah, coming," he grumbled. His mind was racing, but coming up with no solutions.

He opened the door and faced Ganondorf Dragmire.

"Forester."

Dragmire hadn't changed in the least since the last time Link had seen him. Perhaps he'd grown even taller, if that was at all possible. His clothes were still at the height of men's fashion, with pointed leather boots, coattails that protected him from the grime, and a top hat, placed on his slicked red hair. He even had a cane, though Link was fairly certain it contained a blade rather than being used to relieve any old ache.

Combined with the clean-shaven look of someone who could afford a barber, Dragmire's golden eyes almost gave him the look of someone approachable.

Link, by contrast, knew he looked just a step above a chimney sweep. With the amount of coal burning in the Ordon winter, it was difficult to keep any pale-coloured clothes, let alone smell like anything else than soot.

"Mr. Dragmire," Link said, defeated. "What can I do for you?"

Dragmire turned to one of his lackeys. Link noticed the street was now suspiciously deserted. Men were posted a few houses down, and it became clear that Ganondorf Dragmire had anticipated his attempt to escape. To his man, whom Link recognized as Byrne Claw, he motioned to bring something forward. Byrne opened the trunk at the back of the car and retrieved a pouch of coal large enough to make Link sweat at the mere sight of it.

"May we come in?" Ganondorf Dragmire said, with the polite tone that made Link feel like a chastised boy all over again.

Silently and sullenly, Link stepped aside. Ganondorf Dragmire walked in, surveying the little house imperiously, and Byrne followed with the sack of coal, shutting the door behind him. With Onox in the kitchen, Link knew he was utterly outnumbered.

"What do you want?" He said again.

Ganondorf Dragmire's chuckle was deep, like thunder, and about as friendly. "Is that any way to talk to someone who, in the cold, dead clutches of winter, walks in with enough coal to warm you and your beloved siblings for two weeks?"

Technically, Link considered, Byrne had been the one to carry the coal in. But he said nothing, waiting. There was always more, and he didn't want to give Dragmire the satisfaction of asking.

Ganondorf Dragmire walked to one of their old couches, studied it with a mixture of interest and disgust, dusted it off, and sat. Then, he observed Link with his cool, golden eyes, and smiled a smile that was almost friendly.

"Tell me, Link," he said. "How has flying with your own wings been treating you?"

Link felt a surge of hatred rise up like hot steam inside of him, but he managed to keep quiet. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction, he told himself, like a mantra.

"Because it seems to me," the rich man said, removing his top hat elegantly, "that it isn't quite what you thought it would be."

"Whatever you want," Link said, unable to keep the snarl out of his tone, "I'm not interested. We're not interested."

"Really?" Ganondorf Dragmire asked, furrowing his brow, feigning puzzlement. "Are you more comfortable here?" This elicited a chuckle from Onox and Byrne, who stood in both exits. "In this grandiose palace, this temple to your ability as a man?"

Link inhaled to vent his fury, then seized every ounce of self-control and shut his mouth again. This made both Byrne and Onox guffaw, and even Ganondorf Dragmire's lips pulled into a tiny smirk.

"Forester," he soothed, all accommodation and reason, "I just want to help."

"Well, you're wasting your time," Link said. "You can go, and take your coal with you."

"But don't you want to provide a good home for your brother and sister?" Dragmire asked, absolutely unfazed. "A nice, warm, comfortable home for sweet Aryll?"

Link didn't reply, worried that he might instead leap to Dragmire's throat and strangle him.

"Because," Dragmire said, lightly, "I have a job for you, if you'd like."

"I wouldn't," Link said, with absolute finality.

Ganondorf Dragmire seemed to reflect on this. "Not even a job so disgustingly well-paid that you would never have to worry about warmth and food again? Or even…" He raised a hand, feeling the draft from the window with interest, and looking at the wet cloth on the sill, "… house repairs?"

"How many times do I have to say it?"

"What if I sweetened the deal?" Dragmire asked, still tilting his hand in the cold draft absently. "And told you that if you say no, I will ruin your and your brother's employment prospects to such a degree that the only way your beloved, darling sister will be able to eat will be by exposing herself to drunk factory workers every night?"

Link grabbed a chair, ready to hurl it, when Byrne slammed him against the wall, cutting off his breathing. The chair clattered to the floor, one of its legs snapping, and Link reached up to try to pry Bryne's hands off of his throat, to no avail.

As his vision grew darker, Link started to kick. Then, suddenly, with a single flick of Ganondorf Dragmire's hand, Byrne let go, and Link collapsed.

Ganondorf Dragmire hadn't moved, hadn't flinched. His voice was cold when he said, "Leaving was a mistake. I let you go on with this little self-perpetuated lie long enough. Soon," he added, standing to full height, "you will run out of whatever pitiful funds you managed to pocket when you left three years ago. And when that day comes, and your stomach begins to grumble, and the long cold nights begin to chip away at your sanity, you will use your skills again."

"I won't," Link said, his voice hoarse.

"You were a natural," Ganondorf Dragmire said, grandiose as he once again adopted his friendly politician's smile. "You are wasting your talents, rotting in this hovel."

Link leaned his head back against the wall, having decided that getting up just wasn't worth it, and looked at Dragmire with disinterest. "I won't do it."

"You will when you hear how much I intend to pay you," Dragmire said, reaching into his inside coat pocket.

"There's no amount of―"

"Forty thousand rupees," Dragmire continued, without heeding the interruption. From his coat, he pulled out a folded envelope. "As a first installment."

Link grimaced. "Oh, come on," he said, angrily. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Fine," Ganondorf shrugged. "Fifty thousand up front. And it would be such easy money for a man of your ability." He sounded pitifully saccharine. Link felt bile rise in this throat.

"I don't know what you're expecting for that kind of money, but I want no part in it."

Dragmire strode forward and knelt down to look Link in the eye. "But you do," he said, softly, knowingly, and in that moment, Link hated him with a passion, and hated himself even more. "You know that it's only a matter of time. Aren't you tired? Tired of running from what you really are?"

"This is who I am."

Ganondorf Dragmire scoffed. "It won't be for long. As we speak, personal notes regarding your employment ―and your brother's employment, too― are being read by your superiors. Something about your character, and how I, a man of such upstanding moral standards, cannot stand to know that actual thieves are working for these fine gentlemen." He pulled out a pocket watch and glanced at it. "By now, your dismissal should be complete."

Link grit his teeth. "That's a lie."

Dragmire looked mournful. "Oh, but it isn't. You see, it's time you came to your senses, and I'm not averse to giving you and your talented, hard-working brother a bit of a nudge."

Link glared at him, but Dragmire withstood the look with a serene smile. And in that moment, Link knew he was telling the truth, and he was trapped. At length, he averted his eyes, utterly defeated, feeling the anger disperse, replaced only by great weariness.

"What do you want?"

The triumph that spread across Ganondorf Dragmire's face in that moment filled Link with shame and self-hatred.

"It's very simple," the rich man said, standing once again. "I have a list."

"A list," Link echoed, flatly.

"Yes. And if you retrieve the items on this list, you will be paid fifty thousand rupees per item, and a further hundred thousand rupees thereafter, every year, until the day you die."

Link's mind swam. "But that's―"

"A ridiculous amount of money," Dragmire said. "The sort of money you and your siblings can live on, like royalty, for the rest of your lives."

"What in skies, seas and sands is on that list?" Link asked, frowning.

Ganondorf Dragmire handed him the envelope. "Artifacts of interest to me. Trifles, really, but I am a man of sentimental attachment." The smile on his face had a touch of insanity to it, the sort of insanity that Link had seen before in him, that seemed to lie below the surface of every single one of their interactions.

Link took the envelope, but Ganondorf Dragmire's hand darted out and grabbed his wrist so hard that Link felt his bones strain.

"If you are caught, I will deny―"

"Everything," Link interrupted him with annoyance. "I remember."

"Good," Ganondorf said, his smile broadening. "I knew you would." His gaze was dark, hungry and terrifying, and he released Link's wrist. Then, retrieving his top hat from Byrne, he carefully put it back on his slicked red hair and said, "Give my regards to your sister."

Then, as soon as Byrne reopened the front door, he strode out into the snow, following by his lackeys. As the last to leave, Onox leaned in and said, awkwardly, as was his wont, "Have a nice day."

Then, he shut the door.

Link slumped against the wall, too tired to think, thoughts in a jumble. The envelope felt heavy in his hand.

Outside, the big shiny car's engine revved to life, and Link heard Ganondorf Dragmire disappear around the corner with what remained of his tattered, coal-blackened pride.

There was work to be done.

Here's how this is going to work. I will write like a maniac, with the goal of posting at least once every 24 hours until Breath of the Wild releases, and if you enjoy it, you leave a review.

Are you with me?