New Fan Works
Old Fan Works
Amara sighed. There had really been nothing for her to do since she died, except float around watching the living tend to their business. Oh, being a ghost wasn't all bad; in fact, she found it almost amusing to walk through solid objects, listen in to conversations, and be able to travel to different areas of the world in less than a second.
It depressed her, though, to see children with their mothers. It made Amara think of her own son, whom she had had no choice but to leave in the care of race of forest children. She had checked up on the boy from time to time, watching him grow more beautiful everyday, but she found now that she couldn't bear to visit him again. It was too painful, being within inches of her child and knowing that he could not hear, nor see her. Knowing that if she tried to touch the boy, her hands would go right through him.
Knowing that he would never have a mother. It was this last part that upset her the most, and she countered this depression by wandering farther and farther from Hyrule. Really, what was the point of staying if no one knew that you were there?
This particular evening found Amara wandering about in a village across a mountain range and a small sea from the land she knew. The entire village was pleasant, the quiet interrupted by the neighing of horses and the barking of pet dogs, yet there was one house Amara found herself very drawn to. It was nothing special, architechturally speaking, but there was a nice plot of land to go with it. But there was something - or rather, someone - that she found very fascinating for some reason.
There was a little girl in back of the house, holding a tiny wooden sword, and apparently pretending that she was fighting off pirates, or bandits, or fiends of some other type. Amara smiled, and said to herself,
"Practicing to be a warrior? I thought only little boys played battle, my dear. My, but you seem like you could certainly give some of those boys a run for their money, though." The girl froze as soon as the words were out of Amara's mouth. Her head turned left and right, causing her long black braids to fly about. Then she whirled around to face Amara and, to Amara's shock, pointed her toy sword right at her.
"Halt! Why dost thou trespass on the land of the Baccu family?" The girl then added, in normal speech, "And why can I see right through you?"
"Y-You can see me, child?" Amara gasped.
"Well, no, of course not, I'm just pretending," the child answered sarcastically. Despite her attitude, Amara noted, she was quite a lovely little girl. Her gleaming black hair framed a milky white complexion, and the pretty face was graced with sparkling eyes of dark green. She was wearing a light blue dress, but had pinned the skirt up around her knees. If only I could have had another child, Amara thought longingly, I should be so lucky to have a little daughter like her.
"Look, lady, just what's up with you being all transparent?" the girl demanded impatiently.
"I am like this, my dear, because I am no longer made of flesh and blood," Amara explained. "You are the only one who has been able to hear or see me."
"You're a ghost? That's so cool! A-are you one of those ghosts my Auntie tells me about? Are you my Spirit Guide?" Amara thought about this. It would make sense, then, that only the little girl could see her if she was meant to be her Spirit Guide.
"Yes, I believe I am," Amara replied. "You may call me Amara."
"I'm Millerna," the girl said, a big smile on her face. "Wow! Wait until the next time I see my Auntie! I have to tell her my Spirit Guide finally came to me. My Auntie's a healer, Miss Amara. She lives in another village. She makes all of her healing potions from plants. She always says: 'A witch's magic comes from silly wand waving and ridiculous incantations, but my magic comes from the Earth Mother, and that's why it's better'. And it's true, Miss Amara, because all of Auntie's potions work! Like, she has this one that'll instantly stop bleeding, and one that'll kill any germs in an open wound, and another one that'll make you heal really fast, and another..." Millerna kept chirping happily about her aunt's potions, and how she always spoke with the Earth Spirits if she needed help. Amara listened to every word, delighted to have someone, anyone, to talk to. If only it were possible to talk to her son, her sweet little boy. She smiled to herself. Perhaps he would meet Millerna someday, and the girl would be able to tell him about his mother. Best not to rush it, Amara thought, as Millerna continued to rattle energetically on. She might drive him mad with her incessant talking. Ah, but if they met at an older age...perhaps the outcome would be a little more favorable?
As soon as there was an opening in the child's rambling, Amara asked, "How old are you, Millerna?"
"I'm seven," she replied. Amara did some quick math in her head. Her boy was ten, going to be eleven in a few weeks. Millerna was a good four years younger. Amara was certain that if the two met in the very near future -at the age when children found the opposite sex absolutely revolting anyway - they would probably hate each other almost immediately. That, at least, was what it had been like when Amara was younger: If someone was a boy, he was gross. If someone was a girl, she was gross. That's just how youth seemed to work. Amara decided to test her theory.
"I have a son, Millerna, who is just a bit older than you now," she said.
"Eww! I hate boys!"
"You won't when you get a little older," Amara assured, smiling. Millerna did nothing to mask her disgust.
"No way. I'll never like boys. Boys are stupid, they think they know everything, but they don't. My Father, he's even worse than the boys. He hates me and my sisters because we're girls, and he wants sons. He yells at us if we do anything wrong, especially if I do. He says I'm a curse, that my Mama shouldn't have had a daughter like me."
"I'm sure your father doesn't hate you, my dear," Amara said, feeling pity for the girl.
"He does, Miss Amara, he says he does. And if my big sister tries to defend me when he's mean to me, he starts on her. Sometimes he even smacks her across the face, and Mama doesn't even try to stop him. I think she's scared of him. But that doesn't worry me, Miss Amara, because when I get old enough I'm going to run away. My Zora friend, she says she'll come all the way from Hyrule to help me escape. Then I'll tame my own dragon, and I'll fly around the world fighting bad guys and saving whole kingdoms!" As Millerna continued to describe her master plan, she hopped up onto a short fence and used it as a balance beam. "I'll rescue civilizations, I'll see foreign lands, I'll explore temples. I'll never bow down to anyone, and I'll never, ever need a boy to save me, like those girls in books do. I'll be perfectly able to save myself!" Amara decided right then that she really liked this kid. Any little girl who planned to be a warrior maiden had her respect, no questions asked. In addition, she noticed, Millerna had excellent balance, leaping gracefully from post to post on the fence. She certainly could become a warrior, if she persued this dream. She had enough of a fire in her to make something like that work.
"When exactly do you plan to run away, Millerna?" Amara asked, not believing that Millerna actually would run away, but intrigued enough by the girl's ambition to want to hear more of her life's plan.
"Well," Millerna replied, jumping lightly to the ground, "I suppose when my Zora friend thinks I've grown up enough to take care of myself. She's ten, so she knows a lot more about that than I do, and she's a princess, too, so she's got to be really mature all the time. Her name is R-"
"Millerna! You have to come inside right now, before Papa starts yelling," a girl of about thirteen said, poking her head out the window. This girl looked something like Millerna, with long black hair and a pretty face, but she was much softer spoken and had very light blue eyes.
"Okay, Serenity," Millerna groaned.
"And for the love of all things Sacred, fix your dress," the older girl scolded. "Papa'll have a fit if he sees you like that."
"Let him yell at me, the old drunk, he hates me anyhow," Millerna snapped. Serenity, who Amara assumed was the older sister Millerna had been speaking of, gasped in shock.
"Millerna! Don't speak in such a way! Please don't provoke Papa any more than you must, for me? You know I get hit whenever I try to protect you. Please just let your skirt down and come inside." With that, Serenity pulled her head back into the house and closed the window. Millerna grumbled incoherently.
"Oh, well," she sighed. "I have to go inside now.
You can come in, Miss Amara. Nobody'll see you anyway."
After a few months, Amara really had begun to feel like Millerna's Spirit Guide. She started having visions of things that would occur in the girl's future, although many she chose not to tell Millerna of, since that would take all the excitement out of her life.
But there was one vision that Amara couldn't keep to herself.
"Millerna," she said one evening as she drifted alongside the child in the forest. "You're certain you hate boys?"
"Yes. And I always will."
"I beg to differ," Amara said, smiling. "The Goddesses have granted me many visions of your life, little one, and they have told me that while you will hate most men, there is at least one you will grow to love."
"Never," Millerna insisted, shaking her head violently. "The visions are wrong."
"The great Goddesses are never wrong, child," Amara said sternly. "They see all and they know all: what has been, what is, and what will be. They do not send false visions."
"Sorry," the girl mumbled. "So, what did they say?"
"They said that you would fall in love with a strong and handsome hero from afar, that he would make you a wife and a mother-"
"I'm not getting married, and I'm not having babies. No way," Millerna interjected. Amara chose to ignore this outburst, and continued,
"And the man they spoke of, Millerna, is my son.
The Goddesses have selected you to marry my son, Link."
To be continued...