Whispers echoed through the twilight as Midna fled through the ornately decorated halls, from what she did not yet know. Every sense of orientation was lost as she succumbed to the urge to keep moving, no matter where. And so it was she found herself on the wide balcony that overlooked oblivion, the dark particles striking her skin like an inverted rain. Collapsing to her knees, she could sense her pursuer closing in – but without sufficient energy the adrenaline pulsing through her veins served to paralyze rather than fuel escape.

Heavy footfalls approached and ceased behind her. She turned apprehensively and beheld an imposing figure attired in the robes of a Twili emperor, but with a strange head covering bearing an unsettling resemblance to a screaming fish. The intruder chuckled darkly. "What's wrong, O great Twilight Princess?" Midna shivered – the voice was distorted, even for their outcast realm, yet made all the worse for the hint of a familiar presence. "Do you not recognize me? That would be tragic indeed, to not know the identity of one's ruler."

The Twili woman summoned enough courage – or recklessness, she could not distinguish the two – to whisper her response. "You are no ruler."

The condescending tone became scornful. "And you believe you are, Midna? What do you truly know of how such authority should be wielded?"

Although it was obscured by the bizarre helmet, Midna still cowered under the venomous glare. "Who are you?"

In the silence that followed, the enemy seemed to grow even taller. "Who indeed…" The metal to the side of the fish's mouth withdrew, and the rest of the helmet quickly followed, retracting into the neck of silver-blue armor. Who remained was the man Midna once knew as her servant, Zant – although she would be hard-pressed to identify him as the same Twili she had known for years. Yes, the hunger for power was still present in his yellow, pupil-less eyes, but so was another hunger, one that made Midna feel horribly exposed – both intensified by a spark of dormant madness.

As she interpreted his gaze, he gauged hers, pleased by the decadent mixture of recognition and fear he found there. "From the lowly slave to sovereign of the kingdom. It would make for an excellent story, would it not, Princess?" He turned around and began speaking as would a thespian to his audience. "Mistreated, the slave wishes only for his abilities to be acknowledged. He would be a fine leader, but none will see it! It is in the slave's deepest frustration and despair that he is recognized by a god of the light world, one who vests in the slave a great power. It is with that power, Princess, that I will rule this dimension. As for you –" Zant turned back and stared down at the lovely form only partially obscured by a half-jacket cloak and a skirt that left an entire leg bare. "You need not fall from your noble heights. Instead of being a mere princess, you will be my queen. The most powerful twosome in the world of twilight – who knows? Perhaps in the world of light as well." He extended his pale hand to her, as even now she was on her knees. "Join me, Midna."

Distress was overcome by fury as she knocked the hand aside and sprang to her feet. Her own hand began to gather pink and black energy. Her crimson eyes narrowed as she hissed. "I would rather meet you in hell." Without warning, she launched her attack.

Zant only smirked as his faint yellow-black shield deflected the sharp particles, savoring the way her eyes widened when she realized that she was powerless against him. "Care to reconsider your answer, Princess?"

Terror violently regained control of Midna's body, denying her the outright flight she so desperately wanted. Yet one corner of her mind was still determined to not be intimidated into making the obviously wrong choice. "No", she whispered. It was a shaky no, a no quivering with raw dread – but a no nonetheless.

Any previous trace of amusement vanished from his expression in the face of her stubborn refusal. "Very well." The deadness of his warped voice made her blood run cold, more so than any venomous outburst could have. The freakish helmet emerged, concealing his sickly yellow eyes again. Then he began to slowly, deliberately advance, each strike of the metallic shoes a death toll. Despite the endless drop only a few yards beyond her, Midna found her own feet retreating, her hand outstretched in a less than futile attempt to ward off the usurper whose next move was sure to be anything but pleasant.

His steady pace broke as he darted forward and seized her extended wrist, using it to pull her against him. The rough garments brushed against her uncovered waist as a pale hand emerged from tasseled sleeves to stroke the small of her back. She shuddered, both disquieted and repulsed. The hand migrated to her front, fingers clutched the fabric of her mantle – then paused. His head tilted, as though…listening…

With a contemptuous grunt, he thrust her away from him. The immense relief was tempered with cautious uncertainty. "It seems I have other matters to attend to, Princess. But so you do not forget who it is you now serve…"

The hand moved across her line of vision, a good five feet from her. So it was to her great astonishment when she felt an immeasurable force strike her side, the ground all too welcome to greet her. But it was nothing compared to the utter shock of finding that the hands she used to raise herself were not her own.

"Now leave my presence before I change my mind. But do not fret, my lovely freak -"

Only now did Midna's legs respond to her terror. She scampered past him, fleeing the palace that was now a dungeon of horrors, his last words chilling her to her core:

"I will find you again…"

...shudder...

What the heck possessed me to write that piece of creepery? Oh, right - "the stalker song".

...shudder...