A Murderer's Son: A Zelink Story

Chapter 1

Father never knew about me. 

Or, at least, he never tried.

Once or twice, he'd ask me a question; something small, simple, insignificant. Anyway, the truth of the matter was, all the castle's guards and maids knew me better than my own blood- and that's truly saying something. Ever since I was nothing more than a crawling, gurgling, giggling little thing with mucky fingers who used her hands and knees to get from one place to another, the castle and all it's workers had been my family. 

We had about 2,000 people taming this castle, including the quaint little town surrounding it, so little me was never dissatisfied by the sheer amount of stimulation available to her. The guards had been my protectors; protectors who weren't allowed to move a muscle when I prodded and poked them as an 8-year-old, seeing how far I could stretch the rubber band of boundary. I was swiftly put off doing so, though, when a guard got so fed up once that he told me to stop. I jumped out of my skin and ran for my life.

The librarian had been my teacher, lifting me up to reach the higher books, answering all my gruelling queries of fascination without complaint. The maids had been one combined mother, keeping the ripped duvets down in the basement for a 6-year-old me to jump onto, or telling me where all the blankets were kept and giving me the key so I could make the "world's largest fort". 

But one part of the castle was strictly out of bounds, and my limited little mind had never questioned why. 

The training grounds.

Every day as a child I watched with the utmost fascination at the swift movements of the knights, and once or twice they waved at me, pulled silly faces to make me laugh. I wanted to meet them. I wanted to know the men who were keeping me safe in this boundless place. But my father had always told me that the training grounds were strictly unprohibited. But it hadn't always been so, I was sure of that.

The words "Runaway knight" Had always been a part of my childhood, embedded in the soundscape of the castle, toppling off of people's tongues multiple times a day. The phrase was worn out in their vocabulary.

When I was little, I used to sit in my bed, the covers draped over me, repeating that phrase again and again and again; runaway knight, runaway knight, runaway knight. Asking myself the same questions over and over, for the runaway knight was the only uncertainty in my comfortable existence.

And at seventeen, I was finally told.

"Something happened down there, Zelda." The librarian murmured, her tone almost incinuating that I didn't quite understand the severity of the situation. "Something not very nice."

I peered down at the training grounds from the bridge I was on, the sunlight fleeting and bouncing off the slashed armour as the knights moved with ever-nimble movement. 

"Who was he?" I finally asked, after years of crippling hesitation.

She sighed, her eyebrows furrowing at the meer thought of him. 

"A murderer."

***

Swiftly, I was running, my feet slamming against the frosted earth, echoing the violent pace of my heart. 

"There she is!" I could hear one of them call behind me, only heightening my sense of fear and drawing longer, harder, noisier pants out of me.

I could feel my cloak ride the wind behind me as my cheeks began to burn from the exposure to the icy climate, but I couldn't stop running. The only thought stopping me from crying was the possibility that my frail tears might freeze over in such temperatures.