Forsaken Legend: A fan-novelization.

bleed-affinity · 02-25-2007, 05:45 PM

This is novelization of my favorite video game that I've been planning for most of the past year. I've worked on it endlessly, and I'd like to keep doing so, so I hope you all can help me improve by giving me feedback on this sample chapter. Please, if this is in the wrong area or forum, let me know and correct me. Thank you for reading my story, I hope you'll enjoy it.

Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time and all of it's characters, locations and plotlines are copywrite to Nintendo. Many of the characters, locations and plotlines in this particular novel are fanmade and belong to me- Seraphim, or bleed-affinity. Please do not steal or sue.

"Lady, lady, lady Sitheria..." He uttered giddily through the pain, clasping his hands tightly together to release thin streams of blood from both palms. "He is so lovely." And then he gasped with ecstasy as the sounds of red droplets striking the stone floor thudded like drumbeats in his delirious mind. The blade slid from his right hand quickly, cleanly onto the altar and he fell to his knees, the traditional prayer dancing along his tongue. His lips tasted the blood around his wrist, he could feel the thick warmth as he carressed the aching wounds with an open, eager mouth.

"I can never have him." he hissed, tones of hysteria lingering along the edges of his speech. "Sitheria, grace me with misery. This unrequited longing I can no longer bear."

The moonlight radiating from the second window on his right told him that the dawning hour of midnight was upon the fortress. Each of the sacrifices were locked away, secured from the valley while they slept their last night away. The more he thought of the prince's inevitable death the following sunset, the further into his mind the hysteria drove. At last, it seemed. The one night of the year he would be able to speak to the beautiful royal, could only be the night where the ritual would be performed. Oh, the regret. Their prince, their fortunate sacrifice that would enter the gates of paradise each of the thieves so longed for, the man that the wordless bleeding youth loved. And he knew that no matter the promises, no matter the beautiful lies, that he could never bear to watch his death.

He laughed. Through the agony, though the regret and miserable longing to rescue his prince, the delirious youth laughed. And as he fell into these peals of laughter, his conciousness rocked back and forth uneasily. Here he stood against the altar of his own personal sanctuary, ready and willing to pray for his distant love but all that he was ready to speak fell from his tongue into his crumbling mindset, swallowed and forgotten. It was only when the door swung open from it's rusty hinges that he began to draw from his delusion.

The elder priestess stepped into the room, her feminine voice echoing softly against the edges of the bare stone walls. "Youngest heir..." A smile sung within her. "Youngest heir, my son. What bleeds you?"

"This knife!" he cried, laughter overwhelming his screams as he continued to shout in complete distress: "This blade in my hand bleeds me the way you do!"

She swept over with inhuman movement, her skirts and shawl billowing behind her in rapid gusts. Placing both icy hands on his wounds she held him down, and as if stung by grains of salt in the blood he gasped in pain. Her mouth bared a twisted grin, and she whispered to him in the most vicious of tones: "I will bleed you again, my lovely heir."

With these haunting words she trailed her hands down his shaking arms and dug her nails deep into his open wrists, and as the blood released further he began to scream. The walls of the plain, bare room stretched and elaborated until the ceiling reached the starlit sky. The stone floor parted at the crumbled, rocky seams. While his cries shrank away into helpless, silent wails he watched as the goddess's statue rose from beneath the open ground. He could see her serpent charm, the snakes coiled and silthering around her neck the way they were always depicted. The thin carved armor across her breasts seemed to heave and shackle as if animate, real. And while the priestess's smile stretched to inhuman proportions he began to call out the goddess's name in a fury of desparation:

"Sitheria! Sitheria!" he wailed in pain, the giddy ecstasy lost. "Sitheria! My lady, Sitheria!"

Sitheria's awakened statue gazed towards him mockingly, her face did not move but there was laughter behind her unblinking eyes. Inanimate as a statue would be, but her garments and the snakes breathing hisses that filled the room with the priestess's laughter as death worked it's way into the youth. The high, mocking laughter faded away into a deep series of chants, and he recognized them at once. The cheering, the masses of crowds gathered around the goddess's stone image to witness the death of their royals and the chanting of the priestesses that carried out the routine. His garments dropped to the floor, the blood released from his wounds trickling down his bare legs. His wails ceased, a raged cry building up in his throat. His faith melted away with this rage and he screamed in overwhelming fury:

"You witches! You filthy, disgusting, malicious witches!" he spun around, breaking free of the priestess's grip as another set of hands tried to reach for him. "How could you, Sitheria! Sitheria! You wicked monster! Monsters! Each of you! I will not burn in your wretched hell!

HELL!"

The nightmare's last scream escaped his throat and he fell to the side of the altar. His eyes opened slowly, heavy blinks at first and as conciousness began to work it's way back into his mind he came to realize where he was. The altar was untouched, and so was the knife only several inches from his hand. He shuddered softly, looking around the area at the closed ground, the normal setting, his reality. He gazed in the reflection on the bladed edge of the knife, and then to his uncut wrists and covered body. He gasped in sudden relief, but tears welled up in his tired eyes at the distress of the entire vision. He moaned with exhaust and began to sob silently onto the ground. And as he cried, knowing that no one would come out of concern, he began to pray for remorse.

HumanePain · 02-27-2007, 07:04 PM

Very well done, but in some parts it seemed a little too...flowery? Does that make sense? For example:

"the traditional prayer dancing along his tongue"

A prayer dancing along a tongue in a poem is one thing, but in a narrative story?
I just don't know.

And other parts had strange grammar:

"At last, it seemed."

Seemed...what?

But it was a spell binding story that I could not stop reading, it was so colorful. And I always liked the idea that the central character may be going mad, hinted by the end where he regained consciousness.

bleed-affinity · 02-27-2007, 07:17 PM

Hm, I was a bit worried about that myself. I'll look out for that in my next chapter, thanks. For now, I think I'll read over that and fix it up.

And Spright, if you're going to directly insult me, I'd rather you just keep it to yourself and your group, if you have one. Your opinion on fanfiction is fine by me, and I know a lot of people agree with you. If you want to constructively criticize my story, feel free. On the other hand, if you're just going to waste a good fifteen minutes of your life insulting someone you know on the internet, save your time. Go flame someone who will cry over it. Thank you.

Tin_Lizzie · 02-27-2007, 09:54 PM

No, she's 17 years old.

Bleed-affinity, I think there are 12-step programs for fan-fic. I know some very good writers who successfully kicked the habit and now write original, creative stories. Good luck with that!

bleed-affinity · 02-27-2007, 10:31 PM

Listen Spright, I didn't come here to be judged. I came here to share my work with a community. I certainly didn't mean to offend you, but it sure looks like I did. If you don't like this thread, stop posting in it.

Tin Lizzie, thank you. I am an original author and do have my own works, but I chose to write this first to try and gain the experience of planning a novel out...I'll probably put a short story up eventually so you can see. This novelization has a pretty large cast of my own characters.

Thanks, next chapter should be coming up soon.

bleed-affinity · 03-21-2007, 08:05 PM

I edited a little bit of what I posted, and it's on my dA. Tell me if you want the link. Here's the next part:

The prince sat collected in the embroidered throne, relaxed against the breeze beneath the noon's bright sun. The desert's rare fauna, even as they sprouted from the crevasses in the fortress walls and worked their way into the rooms with a hefty scent of shedding pollen, was lovely and appealing this day. He smiled proudly, his slender fingers gripping the edges of the throne's arms. The scent of the fauna lingered about his nostrils, and he almost choked on the sweet, sweet pollen. The curtains draped around the reclined throne billowed and weaved together with the winds, gusts of red silk and gold tassles in full movement with the breeze slipping in from the window. Today was perfect. He rested his head against the velvet cushions and began to hum.

It wasn't so much of a song that he hummed, but it was something to assure the beauty that surrounded him. A relaxed hum, a soft internal speech of serenity and comfort. He was to savor these moments, though they were short as the day. I am not afraid, he thought gently to himself. I have nothing to fear. Paradise awaits me. And with this beautiful concept, he closed both eyes until he heard the subtle creak of his door swinging open. It was then that he lifted from his seat and with the same silky serenity in his accented tone, he said: "Come in."

The door opened completely and he saw the youthful heir, standing in the narrow hallway with a single guard. The youth parted his dry lips to speak but said nothing, and then his gaze shifted towards the guard as if commanding her silently to speak for him. And she did, gesturing towards the heir with her slim, yet muscular arms. The deep purple fabric covering her lips gave way when she spoke:

"Prince Rathephos," Her words were calm, but her tone was stern even through it's quiet octave. "Young Ganondorf requests your attention."

The prince's smile widened once he saw the heir step back a bit in evident modesty. With curiousity and fondness for the youth, he curled his fingers into a welcoming gesture, beckoning Ganondorf into the chamber. Then he looked to the guard, passed the same expression towards her and said with vocal grace: "Leave us."

With those simple words, she turned back into the hallway and slipped away as quickly as a feline, without a sound. As soon as the prince knew she had left completely, he turned to Ganondorf and relaxed both arms back against the throne. His robes draped across the arches of the seat, and both of them knew that he was beauty's epitome. His long cascades of scarlet hair weaving in and out of the gold and fabrics, his index finger playing with it, coiling the locks about it in a teasing manner as he looked towards the youth with narrow, loving eyes. "Wouldn't you come here?" He said, knowing that the heir would agree instantly. And he did, silently but with a soft nod he stepped up to the throne and fell to his knees.

"No, no." The prince said, reaching for Ganondorf's hand and taking it gently into his own. "You needn't be formal with me, my love. There is never an appropriate time for that. Ever." And he beckoned the heir towards him with both hands, drawing him into a gentle kiss. The youth returned the kiss with a slight shiver and after a brief moment, threw his arms around the prince's waist. He gathered the heir up into his robed arms, the silk landing in a soft ripple against the floor. "My sweet, beautiful heir..."

Ganondorf held the prince tightly, his shivers softening as he felt the slender arms fold around his back. He kissed the prince's clothed collarbone and whispered softly, without knowing much else to say. "I love you."

"I know." The prince replied, gently releasing his lover from both arms and holding a finger to his lips. "I love you, my heir. I long for the day we meet again." And then he took the youth's hand and kissed the fingers gently as they tightened around his. Taking this hand carefully, he pulled it close to his cheek, and allowed Ganondorf to rest it against the prince's smooth face.

"You don't have to do this." Ganondorf uttered softly, leaning in a bit towards the prince. "It is before your time..."

The prince's calm, beautiful eyes widened in slight astonishment. "Ganondorf, this is the greatest honor Sitheria can give. What wave of insanity are you under to say such a thing?" But when he looked back at the grieving youth, he saw the tears. "Oh..." He whispered, opening his arms again and wrapping them tightly around the heir. "Oh, my sweet, sweet love. Please don't cry for me. Don't cry. I promise you we'll be together again."

"No." Ganondorf insisted, tightening his fists on the soft silken robes. "I don't want you to leave. I love you so, so much. Please don't do this."

The prince simply hushed him, still with both arms fastened tightly around his back. "I love you." He repeated, brushing back the light red strands of hair out of his lover's eyes. "I could never say those words enough. Once I enter my paradise, I will be waiting for you. I swear to our Lady, I will wait for you endlessly." He smiled softly, and kissed both of the heir's teary cheeks, and then his lips. But Ganondorf clearly wanted more than that after he returned the gentle kisses. He wanted the prince to live. He wailed in despair and buried his face against the prince's chest and began to cry again. And then the prince pulled away again and clasped the heir's hand tightly. "The ceremony is about to begin, and I must ready myself. You need to be strong, Ganondorf. Be strong and come back to me someday."

With no will to do anything else, Ganondorf fell back onto his knees and whimpered softly as the prince removed himself from the throne. But before he was able to cross the room with his graceful, delicate paces, he heard the protesting voice again:

"Wait, Rathephos..." The heir choked. "The dream...they're all lying. The thieves. The dreams are getting worse...please don't die tonight. You can't. Sweet prince, Sitheria...

she lies."

The prince stared at Ganondorf in sheer astonishment, and then said: "What? Ganondorf, never take our Lady's name in vain! Don't you say that again. Ever." He cleared his throat, supressing a forthcoming outburst. "I must prepare." Then his expression became distant. "And you must leave. I'm sorry." With this, he leaned in close to the heir and cupped a hand against his cheek, to show that his love was still sincere. "Let me kiss you one last time before my death."

Ganondorf drew back, and impulsively said "No." And quickly, instictively he broke away from the prince and fled the chamber without another word. Subtle taps of slippers against the stone grew softer and softer until the prince was sure that his lover was gone. And almost instantly afterwards, he felt two pairs of hands grasp his own. He looked, and two young priestesses had caught hold of him. One of the priestesses draped in robes of ice blue, and the other in garments of fierce scarlet. The women were identical and he didn't even need to see their faces to recognize them.

"We must ready you, Rathephos." The woman in blue said, her frosted blue lips curling up into a delicate smile. "The ceremony's beginning is underway." Her long, elegant nails coiled around his straight locks of hair. He brushed her hand away, and sighed.

"I know, Kotake." He murmured reluctantly. "I know." And then he sighed and allowed her to undress him as her sister readied the traditional robes that he recognized immediately as having belonged to their last sacrifice. While her hands worked their way their way through his hair and clothing, he felt discomfort. It wasn't fear by any means, but it was discomfort. But he swallowed any protests that he had readied and allowed her to continue.

Her smile lifted into a devious grin, her hands sliding down his waist. "Koume, go prepare the rest of the feast. We have a lot of work to do."

_________________________________

bleed-affinity · 05-13-2007, 09:44 PM

The edit button isn't showing up. I'm revising this piece, so I'm just going to link you guys to my fanfiction.net account. I'll post alerts whenever a new chapter is up. Please disregard the unrevised chapters in this thread, I would much rather that you follow this link:

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3496885/1/

The description, characters and all around imagery has been switched up and changed. I think it's improved, please leave me your feedback. And I'm sorry for the lack of updates for the few that liked it.