It is nearly impossible to say you had a difficult life if you can't remember any of it. If I put my will to it, the earliest that I can conjure is a field on the outskirts of Termina with an insurmountable rage. There was no one to greet me and soothe my fury, leaving my overwhelming emotion free. Havoc ensued of course.

Wondering 'what if's?' of your possible family aren't pleasant. It's like an expectation that 'so far' no one can even begin to sate, a burning question unanswerable.

I can't remember them at all. Who are my kin? Are there other deities?

What were they like? Did I fit the mold with everyone? Or was I an outcast? Did I even have a family? ... Did they leave me to die?

Maybe I'm just a singular gift of the gods.

These questions seem to plague me frequently. All I have of my past is a pathetically small blue ocarina in my hands. I don't know why, but it's precious to me. So I hold it dearly for hope that my past might surface. But all I can do is wait for them.

I am separated from those around me. I'm not like them. I'm the 'Freak' of the town. A dangerous curiosity.

I also have a constant craving to maim, humiliate, murder. To rule. Clearly this darkness is a part of me.

Yet I wish it were not.

I can't help it. My being feels to progress as such. Why do I fight it? Why bother? I am a demigod. I am initially 'right' in whatever endeavor I damn well please.

All of which is leaving me in a limbo, I simply exist. My hate reined in. All because something small is making its mark in my soul. Fighting to the end. Like a drop of white ink in black water. Utterly pointless.

All that is left is for time to remove it.

OOOO ~ OOOO ~ OOOO

A burly carpenter trudged through the warm town of Wicker. The farm town was a solid twenty minute hard ride south east on horseback from the country's capital, Clock Town. So close to the swamps that it exuded bugs every evening at the lamp lights. However, Wicker was a natural trade hub and jumping off point for commerce in and outside of the country.

And with it, a constant demand for craftsmen, farmers, and carpenters to meet the town's growth, such was why William Lakewood lived in Wicker with his family.

His hands shoved in his trouser pockets. He was an unremarkable man, black hair short to his scalp, his face almost naturally frowning. His clothes weren't very expensive, but passable in middle society. In each step there was a constant tension in his shoulders. Like he was ready to pounce on even the tiniest of opposition. But that was how William survived his youth, by being tough and not letting even the smallest soul slight him. In turn, he was a hard man who was used to being listened to.

And the one person who could never get it through their damn head to really listen to him… was his opposite as well as his blood, nine year old Fydra Lakewood.

He paused for a moment and glanced back impatiently. "Hurry up, Fydra." He said curtly.

Only a meek, "Coming!" resonated behind him as a young girl in a plain dress ran up with all the enthusiasm that came with being nine. Leaving behind a quant crafts shop off the main dirt road. A huge smile plastered on her face despite the older ones mood.

It was like that often, he thought irritated, she was completely oblivious to events around her, except for what was interesting to her. Nothing he seemed to do ever had an effect on her. And she was as flighty as a finch at times.

She had gained that trait from her mother.

The man turned forward when she approached and continued on his way. Annoyed, "When I say we are leaving-" he ended his words exasperatedly, "-you leave, Fydra."

The young girl shrunk a little. Then quietly said"...'kay."

He paused and gave a hard look towards her. Expectant.

The brown haired girl straightened quickly with a small squeak and sputtered out, "Y-yes father."

There was an uneasy silence for the young green eyed girl as she watched her much bigger father.

The carpenter sighed and spoke again, "Good." He said simply. Then he continued on his 'not-so-merry' way, clearly expecting Fydra to keep up despite their stride difference.

"You're a lady, hon. And you must speak to me and those around you with respect." He said chidingly.

"Yes father." She said tonelessly, confirming.

William pursed his lips, even when she did listen to him, it was irritating. Her tone and body language spoke utter submission, but he knew, KNEW that whatever he was saying was going out the other ear. Plus to see his own blood react so… weakly, left a bad taste in his mouth.

But she was his blood none-the-less. So he had to deal with her and her short attention span, her spontaneous remarks, her infuriating tendency to wander, and talking to her… goddess! The questions never end! And never ask her about her hobbies! Unless you want to be put in a solid two hour sleep.

But she was his responsibility. Whether he liked it or not.

"Respect is something that every child must know of- " And he continued his spontaneous lecture while walking off around market with young Fydra.

OOOO ~ OOOO ~ OOOO

Her father continued to talk about respect, appearances, and paying attention. But her eyes were elsewhere with interest. Already starting to tune out her aggressive father. He continued to talk, but Fydra gradually paid more attention to the buzz of the crowd around them. Watching the life of the town move about in its day to day tasks. It was one of her favorite things to do really. People watch. The current most interesting sight not twenty feet away.

In the mist of the warm sun, and by the famous willow trees around town, the sight of her curiosity was solidly holding her attention. The butcher was tending to some unknown meat, stuffing them in a stone box with one layer over another with salt in between. And a massive off brown and black goron; with a smile on his face not unlike that of a satisfied cat. Rocks were speckling his brow and back. A literal mountain of a creature.

She knew the gorons were thought of as friendly, but other than that, she had rarely seen one. "Who the heck would put meat in a stone box? Why not wood?" She thought aloud. And by not paying attention, she had unintentionally cut off her father's words.

"Fydra, don't interrupt me!" He barked turning his head.

Jolting her from her young thoughts, "Huh?" startled, and slowly realized she was in trouble again.

"Fydra, NEVER interrupt an adult who is talking to you. Do you understand?" he said, raising his voice.

Fydra got a bit smaller that moment. "Yes."

He continued, and strangely seemed to enjoy the lecture. "I'm sick and tired of having to correct you all the…"

"-WAOH!" The girl interrupted, she shouted in outright wonder. Her green eyes massive as if she witnessed one of the coolest things in the world.

In a sense, she did.

The goron from before just took a huge chomp on the stone box, and it gave way like a fragile egg shell to his teeth. Exposing the tended meat inside. It was like a giant rock sandwich!

Her father blinked dumbfound, his mouth barely able to shape words in outrage. "I just got done telling you about interru-!"

But the young girl had already left his side with a run, curiosity brimming in her eyes.

She trudged up to the goron, and he was far larger than any human she had ever met. She stopped at his side and had to crane her neck to look him in the face.

The mountain creature glanced down in much the same fashion of one to a curious animal. "Oh..?" He spoke much like how a rock would. With a big breathy deepness and –pun intended- gravel voice. "What have we here?" He gave her a huge goron grin, his maw probably wide enough to eat her in one bite had he chose too.

Fydra smiled triumphantly and spoke up to the black brown rock creature. "I'm Fydra, and I'm nine!" with as much dignity a child can give. Then without waiting any further… "How de' heck did you DO that!?" She asked enthused.

The goron blinked his black set eyes. "You mean eat?" he asked bewildered. Then added, "Oh right… you normally don't eat rocks..." His spare hand going to his chin in deep contemplation while the other holding the half eaten rock case like that of a pastry.

He gave her his attention again, "You should give it a shot, you don't know what you're missing." He finished with a high note.

Fydra scrunched up her face, "We can't eat rocks, at least I don't think so…"

To ruin the fun, her father stepped in suddenly and cut the conversation short.

He grabbed her hand and nearly dragged her away while calling out apologies to the mountain man. His grip firm.

Fydra started to grunt out, "Ow! Ooow, that hurts! Lemme' go!"

But her father didn't until they were in an alleyway out of sight between two shop stalls.

Fydra looked up to his angry face, and stupidly she spoke out, "Father, why'd you do tha-?"

Then his hand shot out and across her face with a resonating, 'Pap!'

Shocked into silence. A slow welling of tears came from the child's face. She gingerly brought a hand to her cheek to sooth the stinging flesh.

The burly carpenter father looked smug, "Not fun getting interrupted, is it?"

Fydra mutely shook her head 'no'.

The black hair man kept up his glare. "Stop your piddling."

She couldn't stop her tears, but she gave it her best. She gave a sniff, but her whimpers' continued into low moans.

The man sighed and thought to himself briefly. Then said with a lighter tone, "Look, how about we go for some sweet bread and forget the whole thing?"

Fydra slowly composed herself, but otherwise gave a meek smile. "That sounds good… father." She remembered to add that last word like she was taught, hopefully make him proud.

OOOO ~ OOOO ~ OOOO

A good hour later, when the two of them were heading home. They came across an unusually large throng of people in their way to the main intersecting road in Wicker.

The girl blinked. 'What's all the hula-balu about?'

Her and her father trudged up to the path, the girl made sure to hold onto his hand like he taught her. The crowd murmured loudly amongst themselves. She could hardly hear herself think as she looked on. At first her only sight was the wall of people, wondering with fierce curiosity of just what they were staring at.

Fydra's only sign of all the attention was the sight of a massive worn boot crushing the red brown earth beneath them as they strolled down the street. Everyone seemed to give him space despite their obvious dislike of the man.

Fydra tugged out of her father's hand without thought, and danced around side to side to find a proper hole to look through.

She finally found one in between a pair of waist, and actually gasped aloud at the sight.

There was a monstrous man. He was easily as tall as the goron from before. He wore a strange white long pointy hat. It sat proudly on top of his stark white hair. A white and dark purple tunic hugged his form. There was also a blade set on his back. She only spied the handle and the point of it down by his calves.

Though it was his eyes that distracted her. There was nothing in them. Not a 'lack of expression' but literally nothing, no pupil, no iris… just a stare of soul crushing focus framed by intense blue and red facial markings.

She instantly felt a pang of sympathy towards the man, she was always a bit of a romantic believer in 'eyes are the doorways to the soul.' However if she followed that saying right now… it would seem as if THIS man hadn't one.

She looked up to her father, and his stare was one she wasn't too used to seeing, and it put her on edge.

His features were dark, and he actually seemed to strain his frown, even though he was easily the best frowner Fydra had ever met. His eyes locked onto the strange man in the road.

"Do somethin', William!" Someone said to him. Fydra blinked. Do what?

He grunted, "No, he'll get his just deserves. Goddesses wouldn't allow it any other way."

The nine year old frowned in thought. It wasn't often she got to go to town with her father, and she normally didn't much care for what weird stuff adults talked about in their free time. But she didn't have the slightest clue for their anger towards this interesting man.

But then the monstrous white eyed person turned, and continued his measured stride to whatever destination he meant to reach… right towards Fydra and her father!

She could feel the crowd around her tense, and for the most part they parted. With the exception of perhaps the most willed and unreasonably hard browed person she knew, her father.

Which left him and Fydra alone; leaving them strangely staged in front of everyone's eyes.

The tall white haired man stopped easily and brought his hollow eyes down to the man standing stubbornly in his way. His presence was…. overwhelming. Even her father stiffened.

Fydra felt the individual focus of every person present staring on, Fydra shifted behind her daddy, and hooked her hand onto her father's wrist, his hand was too busy being clamped shut into a tight fist.

The ostracised giant spoke, with an empty expressionless face, "Move."

It was as if a god had spoken down from a thundercloud. In that one word, he had underlined the shear weakness of anyone around him. But most of all, Fydra felt the hate her father exuded. Hated this… strange deity for the fear he felt. Helplessness he was unused to feeling.

Fydra should have felt concern for her daddy. But what she was feeling and what she should have felt were entirely different.

Instead, there was utter innocent curiosity.

Everyone in town seemed to despise this man, and logic has it that she should avoid him like the plague. But something about him was… not as hateful as everyone knew. She had absolutely NO reason to believe it, but her insistent naive nine year old mind kept tugging at it, why be afraid of him? Cause' he looked different? What in the heck did he do to get everyone's undergarments in a bind?

And an ignorant and innocent part of her wondered if all he needed, was someone to talk to.

And Fydra loved to talk.

Her thoughts broke off when her father spoke with a gruff, "No."

This time, the young green eyed girl stiffened, even she knew a confrontation would explode if neither of these crazy people gave way to one another. Never mind that there was plenty of space for the white haired man to walk around. Fydra realized that this … huge guy, held the same sort of unyielding strength her father did.

The deity didn't even respond in words, he simply continued his graceful stride towards them, his mere presence ensuring everyone in sight knew his integral lethality. His stony glare gave way to the first set of emotion Fydra had seen, it was as if death himself was finally irritated enough to leave his throne to deal with an old nuisance.

The girl gulped audibly, and she was certain so had her father.

But her daddy stepped into a sturdy stance and geared his features into a potent glare. Fydra actually had the foresight to step back away from this, her own statue made her pretty much invisible to this clash.

She watched from the side, the deity like man strode forward. Her father, William brought up his hands expecting to hold ground for as long as possible, his personality and pride wouldn't let him do anything else.

The deity was within arms distance, not stopping his stride, and her daddy's eyes widened and stepped back from the complete disregard. Hate filled his features and he struck out with his fist as the seven foot tall man walked by without any slow.

Next moment in a blink, Fydra felt her face slack in shock and worry. The crowd around her grasped uselessly, and fearful of doing anything else.

William was slammed to the ground effortlessly by the white haired giant, she saw her father's head bang off the ground, dust and earth flew up in its sudden impact, and Fydra honestly couldn't tell how in Termina it happened! Just that it had!

"Daddy!" she rushed forward to his crumpled form in the dirt. Worry edged her mind as she went to her knees by him. She almost shouted, but her words were slurred. "Daddy! You ol'ight?" Never in her life had she actually imagined her father EVER being beaten. It was… unusual, unnatural even to her eyes. He was always the unstoppable and… unquestionable authority in her life. To have him tossed aside so easily was unsettling to her.

But it also put a grain of doubt… doubt into something she couldn't describe in words, but it affected her understanding of him.

"Daddy..?" asked again, but he didn't at her, nor respond. Looking closer, a little blood came out of his nose.

She glanced up to the strange powerful man who put her father down like rag doll, but he was already gone.

Suddenly, a few people were around her and her father, looking on with concern. Speaking lowly with concern. One of the onlookers was an older woman with blond hair Fydra had seen before. Probably a co-worker to her father. Beth, was her name if she remembered right.

"Sa'ight darling, he an't dead. Unconscious, and will have one heluva headache later. But he'll be fine." She crouched down with the girl and hefted the knocked out carpenter by his arms. She worked an encouraging smile to the girl, "Why don' you head on home, let your ma know you're okay?"

Beth stood up with a grunt, pulling around a dead weight. "Help me you, fools!" she glared accusingly. Two others around rushed to help her. The blond lady looked back to the young nine year old. "Don't you worry about Willy here. We'll have him in the clinic. And he'll be home before ya' know it. Take care, darlin'." But her tone suggested that she wasn't as calm as she acted.

But Fydra appreciated it, she didn't really know what to do in this situation.

"Kay', lets haul him off, damn he's heavy…" They started to wonder off, and the surrounding crowd began to disperse, now that the action had quelled. There was an overall feeling of bewilderment, anger, and helplessness that seemed to stick around.

Fydra nodded meekly to the woman, but a question was burning in her mind that she just couldn't let go. Not after what she saw.

"Hey Beth?"

The woman glanced back, "Yea?"

Fydra started to draw circles in the dirt with her foot. Not sure how to ask such a sensitive topic. She shrugged and decided to just go for it.

"What did he do, that man..?"

Beth snorted, her and her associate shouldered William into a better carrying position. "ya mean other than completely pounding yer' father?"

Fydra nodded shyly.

Beth glanced to her helpers, then back to Fydra with a warning in her features. "He's an outsider, aggressive, weird lookin', and got some pretty… nasty rumors surrounding him."

Fydra blinked, "Rumors? What about personally? What is he like?"

Beth looked on exasperated, "Fydra, your father is unconscious-" She shouldered the man as if to underline the point. "- nor do I have time fer' this. Just stay away from him, kay'?"

And with that, they turned and left. Mumbling to themselves about the recent conflict.

Fydra finally remembered her manners and called after, "Thank ya', mam." And waved them off, still confused.

The crowd had completely dissipated, leaving only those who were present for market business. Leaving nine old Fydra, alone to her own devices.

The girl crossed her arms in thought, thinking about the whole thing. She had no idea that someone could be that… menacing. So quick. So tall. So disliked…. So curious.

She started to walk in thought, not really in any particular direction. Fydra was completely consumed by her thoughts, with no regard to her surroundings.

She still had no idea WHY people disliked the man, she supposed she should have disliked him as well considering the pounding her daddy got. But… she knew, that her father had started it. If anything was clear to young Fydra, it was her father that refused to move, and stand in other's way.

Strange that she didn't side with her daddy. Somehow, she wasn't too bothered either. Was it because her mommy always said, "Watch for others intention, sweetheart. Don't get swept up in what everyone ELSE is saying. Think first!"

And if Fydra thought about it, she realized that everyone in town… could be wrong. Even Beth didn't seem to KNOW the white eyed giant.

Fydra broke out of her thoughts when she kicked something beneath her feet, and it skid off ahead of her. The girl blinked, "-wha?"

Then she saw it, a very pretty blue ocarina. She trudged up to it and couched by it, staring at it with deeper concentration than necessary. She reached for it and brought it close to her eyes, immediately she noticed the tight silver band around the mouth piece, the Triforce clearly etched on it.

"oooOOOooo…~" she mewed with wonder.

She stood and quickly looked left and right, then back down to the instrument in her small hands. "Who do you belong to?" She asked.

The ocarina was silent, and looked back patiently. Obviously it was waiting for her to figure it out.

She paused in contemplation, "Do you belong too that- …man?" Glancing around again in search for an owner. But people around her had shown no concern.

Fydra glanced back to the blue trinket,

"Well, best way to find your friend is to search, isn't it?" And she had a strong feeling who that 'friend' was.

She brought her green eyes up, with full determination and a burning sense of curiosity; so the small curious nine year old girl headed down the road alone… the same road the white eyed giant had taken.

OOOO ~ OOOO ~ OOOO

The Fierce Deity carried his town supplies over his shoulder and continued along his path promptly out of Wicker to the outskirts, where his current home was. Despite its long distance from town, he preferred the space from others. And the demigod was positive the townspeople liked it that way, too.

Not that he cared about what a couple of people thought. They could have died in some spectacular and horrible end, and he wouldn't have batted an eye.

But if these infernal people didn't start giving him some space, he was going to snap. Whenever they stared at him with such obvious open contempt, his sword arm would subconsciously twitch. But he had to keep that under control.

In all honesty, there really was no reason for him to do so. What were the repercussions? Prison time? Execution? Labor?

Those meant nothing to the Fierce Deity. Because nothing really harmed him, nothing could really stop a deity.

But he… couldn't. The demigod just could not kill at random and impose his will, no matter how badly he wanted to. In utter rage, yes. But otherwise… it was as if he had a conscience for others.

It had nothing to do with a moral obligation. The white haired man snorted at that. It was just so… integral to his being. -and he no idea why. Things would be so much easier if he could just remove that part of his brain, and rule everything beneath his boot.

He wanted to.

And he wouldn't allow himself.

He kept clinging to something, not 'preserve life', goddesses no. But not outright destroy it either. He took a deep breath and exhaled with control. He had been contemplating the issue for years. Ever since he grew an awareness of self, he couldn't for the life of him fall into his temptations. He resisted. Sure he had killed people before, many people. But those instances were the cause of inevitable confrontation his appearance brought. Not once had he started those, not intentionally at least. Sure, he didn't exactly diffuse them either…

But a part of him wanted to hold back, to keep the darkness at bay. Because he felt that there would be something worth being at the end of that tunnel. Even though he didn't quite believe it.

Overall, he was just plain confused on his motives.

He reached his small wood home, wedged behind a stand of willow trees that Wicker was famous for. Just how he liked it, out of the way. He jammed his key into the door, unlocked it and strode in. He placed his supplies smoothly onto the floor by the door, and continued to his handmade armchair by the fireplace.

He took off his cap and placed it on the end table, then eased into the comfy chair. His thoughts still wondering.

"37…" He had killed thirty seven people in his memory due to 'confrontations'. Some he got away with, others were a little obvious, like in the middle of Clock Town Square obvious. And each time hostilities arose; he would escape and move to a new location. For the sole purpose of not to be bothered by damn guards. Did they really expect him, him, to spend time in jail? He had better things to do with his long life.

Despite his appearance of around 20, the Deity was a bit older than he looked. In that time, he learned experience brought wisdom, and fore-knowledge made that wisdom come easier. So he spent most of his time dabbling in some very 'un-demigod' like activities. Not that anyone ever told him so, he wouldn't have stopped anyway. He enjoyed it too much.

The white eyed man reached to his end table again grabbed the book waiting for his return. He flipped to the dog-eared page and continued reading about Termina's medicinal plants and tincture making. His thoughts focusing on the content. Every now and then he would grab for the feather and ink well next to an unlit melted candle, then cross out a line in the book and rewrite something the author had mistaken.

OOOO ~ OOOO ~ OOOO

'Thump, thump.'

The pounding on his door jolted the deity awake out of his chair. Dropping his precious book haphazardly onto the wood floor. He blinked his blank eyes awake.

Did someone really just knock on his door?

He reached down for his book and placed it back in its usual place on the end table, he'll have to find his place again. Damn.

There was another knock at his door. 'Thump thump thump…' It was to… subdued to be anything serious, like the guard, or anything of that nature.

The deity glanced out the window to see the sun had set an hours ago, then stared back at the door, as if hoping it would burst into flames. 'Who would bother me? Especially after dark. AND they made me lose my place.'

He waited patiently, not intending to get up at all. Clearly he wanted to be left alone. Any idiot would know that.

After a long silence, he relaxed a bit and settled back into his chair. They left. Good.

'Thump thump thump thump thump thump-…'

He eyes hardened, "Oh for goddesses sake." he seethed. The deity pushed himself out of his chair with an air of pure annoyance. He pulled out one of the many knives sheathed on his person and almost bulled to the entrance.

He unlocked and threw open the door then gave his coldest stare, "What."

But no one was in front of him staring back. He felt his face harden further in trained caution.

"Um… hi." A voice squeaked out, below him.

The white eyed man shot his head down to see the unexpected sight before him, his blue and red war tattoos accentuated his hard curiosity.

A small young girl in a plain outdoors dress, stood before him. Alone.

Now. The deity knew that he was not viewed as the friendliest, or for that matter, the safest person to be by.

But apparently this one had no idea. That, or didn't care. And he honestly hadn't the slightest idea as to why she was here.

And that was a rarity the deity didn't like feeling at all.

So he did what anyone would do when caught off guard. He stared stupidly at girl, waiting for her move.

Even more awkwardly, she stared stupidly right on back. Like a cornered animal.

There was a silence. The night air was muggy, and the bugs sung out their nightly song. Only the situation underlined their noise.

The deity caught his balance and spoke out ruthlessly, "What do you want?"

It seemed to shake the child out of her stupor, she shook her head and reached for something stashed away in a bag. "I was uh.. wonderin' if this erm.. was… yours?" The demi-god had to do everything he could not to correct the girl's speech.

Then the question registered, and he noted the shiny blue ocarina that was held out in the child's hands.

Not just any blue ocarina. HIS blue ocarina. THE blue ocarina. He abandoned his stony demeanor and felt his face slack. Then he snapped his hand out and grabbed the instrument with haste. The girl exclaimed out in surprised.

The man held his precious ocarina in front of him, inspecting hole for hole, looking for any flaws that may have accumulated in its absence.

He felt his heart rate slow, eventually he closed his eyes and gave a rare sigh of relief. In all of his memory, he had never met someone who went out of their way for him. And so, he had no clue on how to respond.

He opened his empty eyes again to look down at the girl before him. He hadn't expected to see her so intensely staring at him. He blinked, not just staring. But staring with utter fascination. Pure delighted curiosity came through her simple features, her eyes drinking in his every detail. Every curve of his tattoos, his white eyes, his stark white hair, his straight nose, his hard jaw… That stare was looking into his soul.

Never had he expected this. So he shook his head and put back on his emotionless mask. "Thank you."

The girl smiled brightly in actual happiness, "Yep! Hey, is that ocarina special to y-"

Then the deity slammed the door in her face, walked calmly back to his seat and picked up his book again, finding his page.

Unbeknownst to the girl, she had made him uneasy. People weren't supposed to be nice to him. They were supposed to fear him damn it.

He snorted and gave the smallest of smirks.

'Brat.'

Then continued his readings.

OOOO ~ OOOO ~ OOOO

Authors Note: Why did I deleted the entire thing? Why is this chapter so damn different from the original chapter 1? Simply put: for consistency.

Those of you who have read through this chapter before will notice the DRAMATIC difference between THIS chapter one, and my original chapter one. And I believe this one covers the characters in a much more realistic light. And I feel it keeps each character… in character!

Since this story has been around for so many years, and my style of writing as changed so much, I figured I would run through and edit them for the sake of a better read.

Hope you like the edited version, god knows it needed it!