Author's Note: I do not own Legend of Zelda, or any character or setting associated with the series. Rights belong to Nintendo and the original creators.

This story started with the thought, "what would happen if the Legend of Zelda cycle was still continuing to this day?" A story was born, and then was scratched, and then this one came to me. It has been simmering in my mind for months, but nursing school has been preventing me from writing anything down. The more I think about this story, the more I love it. I thought about writing it down as an original story instead of an alternate universe fan fiction, but this is how the story presented itself to me, and part of the reason I love it is how I have to fit in references to characters and places. This prologue takes place several decades before the story actually begins, and sets some background for one of our main characters. Enjoy!

~Trixie Falsae

Condemned to Repeat

By Trixie Falsae

County Tyrone, Ireland

Eileen grasped her son's backpack and dangled it absentmindedly as she held his hand. He was happily chattering about the day's events as they walked the four blocks home to the flat they shared with her grandmothers. They both weren't truly her grandparents, but they were twins and had raised her together after her own mother had died. She honestly couldn't remember which one was biologically hers, but it didn't really matter. Eileen had always had a terrible memory.

Eileen smiled as her son waved at the residents of their poor neighborhood. They smiled at the boy in return as he skipped down the road. He was barely six but already resilient to the cruelties of an impoverished life. He filled her life with joy, and she gazed fondly at his shock of red hair and his skin just a tad darker than that of her neighbors. Eileen remained lost in her thoughts as they mounted the stairs to their small flat. "Good afternoon, Granny Keara," Eileen called as she unlocked the door, letting her son scamper in. He ran straight to the shelf where his toy horses were housed while his mother relocked the door.

"Good afternoon, yourself," the old women called back from the tiny kitchen. "Granny Kiana is nae back from work yet. We will eat as soon as she comes home." Eileen smiled in return and flopped onto the couch, throwing the small backpack into a corner. "How was your day, little O'Dragmire?" The boy looked up from his horse and began chattering about his day.

"Must you call him O'Dragmire?" Eileen whined, kicking off her shoes and flipping through the post. "I gave him a perfectly good family name."

"Must you go by Eileen?" Granny Keara shot back icily. "You have a perfectly good family name as well."

"Rova is a lovely name," Granny Kiana added as she unlocked the door and entered, as if she had been privy to the entire conversation. The small boy dropped his toys and embraced the elderly woman warmly. Granny Kiana may have been pushing seventy, but she was full of fire and pep, still working hard to support her family.

"Besides," Granny Keara added chillingly, "O'Dragmire is our family name, and one to be proud of." Granny Keara was a stickler for rules and ran the household while managing a small home business to add to the meager income. She was strongly opinionated and often overbearing.

"If it is such a thing of pride why have I heard it anywhere else?" Eileen.

"I did nae say it was common," Granny Keara chided. "Please set the table for me, Ganny." The small boy rushed to obey.

"I like being an O'Dragmire," He called diplomatically to his mother as he pulled flatware out of a drawer.

"What is wrong with being an O'Dragmire, may I ask?" Granny Kiana inquired as she removed the sturdy shoes she wore to work.

"I never hear it anywhere," Eileen complained. "I cannae find it any genealogy record except for our family. Sometimes it just does nae feel very Irish. I mean, we look the part but I can nae find our origins." The two older women exchanged glances.

"Would you like to meet more family?" asked Granny Kiana.

"I would love to meet more O'Dragmires," Eileen perked up enthusiastically.

"They are nae O'Dragmires," Granny Keara added curtly. "They are a family of Doyles living south of here."

"I was hoping to find out more about the O'Dragmires," Eileen sulked while rising to help prepare the table.

"If it helps," added Granny Kiana hopefully, "they are affiliated to the earliest O'Dragmires on record."

"I can only find back to your own granddad," Eileen shot suspiciously.

Granny Keara smiled a malicious smile, "I said it wasnae a common name."

"So are we actually a subset of the Doyle clan?" Eileen asked hopefully.

"Nae really," Granny Kiana explained warmly. "Granddad's mother adopted the daughters of her widowed friend, Bridget Doyle, as the poor woman lay on her deathbed."

"So they are nae really related to us, then?" Eileen asked through narrow eyes.

"Nae by blood," Granny Keara shrugged as they sat down at the table together. "Some family you are born to, others you choose. They are still family even though we share no blood."

"I was more interested in bloodlines," explained Eileen, disappointment evident in her face.

"O'Dragmire? How would you like to visit a horse farm?" Granny Kiana asked, a mischievous smirk directed towards Eileen. The boy wiggled in his seat and gave his enthusiastic approval.

"Fine," Eileen gave in, "I will see if I can get time off at the library for a visit." The grannies smiled at each other victoriously.

"Please say the blessing, O'Dragmire," Granny Keara ordered as they bowed their heads and listened to the eager prayers of an excited child.

Later, after the dishes had been washed and put away and her child was supposed to be in bed; Eileen sat alone in the small parlor reading the latest bestseller on loan from the library. The grannies had retired to their room so Eileen was surprised to hear shuffling along the worn floor. She looked up to see her son standing before her with a worn and very old book. "Look what I found, Mommy!" He whispered excitedly, heaving the large tome onto his mother's lap. She blinked at the dusty book a few times. She had seen it before but she could barely remember. The grannies had shown it to her before her mother had died.

"Where did you find this?" asked Eileen as she ran her hand over the worn triangular image on the front cover.

"In the closet," the boy confessed. "What is it?" Eileen opened the cover to discover she couldn't read it. It was in a language she couldn't recognize. However, it was full of illustrations so vivid they jogged her memory.

"It is a collection of fairy tales, I think," Eileen replied softly, closing the book to stare at the symbol on the cover. Her son reached out a finger to trace the lines.

"What is this?" he asked in the curious manner of six-year-olds.

"A triquetra," she replied, recalling the symbol from church, although it did not quite seem to fit.

"Could you read me a story?" the boy asked hopefully. Eileen normally would have scolded him and sent him back to bed before now, but the tome had caught her curiosity.

"I cannae read it, dear, but I will do my best to remember."

Eileen stepped off the train and ushered her son onto the platform before helping the grannies descend. "Stay close, Ganny," she called to the boy as he skipped about, excited to be in a new location with the anticipation of seeing live horses. No sooner had the last granny set her feet on the platform when a slender woman approached the group. She was grinning broadly and had flaming hair that could rival the boy's in brightness.

"You must be the grannies who phoned me," She smiled as she approached the group and immediately embraced the two older women. "I am Alana Doyle. I am glad you are here." Eileen watched quietly as she chatted with the older women while collecting the luggage. The grannies had assured her that there was no blood relation, pulling out genealogy charts to prove it, but Alana could have passed for her sister. Alana ushered the group to a waiting car and joyfully chatted to the child about horses as they pulled into view of the farm. The boy squealed with delight when he saw the horses running through the carefully groomed fields.

A large group of Doyles were waiting as they exited the vehicle in front of a simple but well kept house, grander than anything the boy had seen. "This is Granny Keara and Granny Kiana," Alana called to the crowd as the stepped onto the porch. "This is Rova O'Dragmire and her son Ganny. I would like for you to meet the Doyles." The crowd at once fawned over the eager little boy.

Later, as the sun sank, and Eileen sipped a drink while watching her son run wild with a group of children on the lawn. She chatted easily with the Doyle women who approached her and was thinking how glad she was she had been badgered into coming. They may not have been blood, but they had the distinct air of family about them. She looked warmly about her at the new faces that accepted and loved her and her family. She realized with a start that aside from a few boyfriends and husbands lingering about, her son was the only male present.