Disclaimer: I do not own these character and I did not make any profit from this venture. I disavow any knowledge of it entirely. Who are you? What am I doing here?
Chapter One: How Ilia came to the Tree
The needle stabbed Ilia's thumb a third time.
The girl winced, her lungs drawing a quick gasp of air as her hand flew to her mouth to soothe the pain and stop the bleeding. Tears pricked at her eyes. "Damn Fado." she sniffed as she watched the bead of red swell on her thumb, "Just… Just damn him."
None of the other ladies heard her. Uli or Sera had told some joke—or some story of their children—and now they all laughed louder than she could gripe. Ilia's eyes drifted to the children splashing in the river. She did not like it. She did not understand it. Fado had asked for her hand in marriage and suddenly she was expected to see her friends in a different light, overnight she was supposed to see them as things to be fawned over and cooed at.
"Ilia…" Uli interrupted her thoughts, "Ilia, dear, are you…" she chose her words with care, "Well…?"
Ilia did not answer. She looked at the tangle of thread and cloth on her lap, "I do not want to work on… On this anymore."
She tossed it away, needle and all. A breeze blew by, and with out the fabric on her lap, it was a welcome coolness on her skin. It was the hottest part of the afternoon. Too hot for work, but not too hot for play. Talo and Colin splashed each other in the river, forgetting how the sunlight could burn them. Before, just a few days before, Ilia had sat beside Beth on the little jetty and kicked her feet in the water and let the sun roast her shoulders—but now she was a wife (unofficially) she had to sit in the still, stifling shade for the sake of her complexion and sew her wedding dress.
"You'll want it done when he returns." Sera said it like Ilia was still a child to scold, "You should not tell him yes after so long and have him wait on your dress."
Which am I? Iia wanted to scream, a woman or a child? But she did not need to scream. It was too hot to scream. Instead, she hissed, "What if I don't want to say yes?"
There was an uncomfortable pause. Ilia did not look at them. She did not want to know what she would she in their eyes if she did. Soft as the breeze, her aunt Uli scooted forward. Ilia prepared to suffer through the speech she had heard many times before, even before Fado had asked for her hand. He had land. He had means. Any woman would want him. "Ilia, sweetie…"
"Objectively, it is the best choice."
Ilia glared at the one child in Ordon that wanted to be perched on the porch with the women. Malo was the youngest, and yet the strangest and smartest. His voice was level, unnatural for his few years, "If you married someone outside of Ordon, they would be a stranger here, and you might never see us again."
Ilia narrowed her eyes. At the moment, that did not seem so bad.
"He would take you away from an emotional support network, and the isolation would lead to distrust, anger, depression—an imbalance in the humors. It would not be good for you to leave Ordon."
With that, Malo settled back into his seat at his mother's knee. Pergie looked a little confused, a little concerned, Ilia just shook her head. Across the way, on her father's porch, the men had gathered to play cards and drink weak beer. As night was the time for men and women—husbands and wives, Ilia cringed—to meet in private, the mid-day heat drove them into two separate camps. Fado had gone to the men's side of the road on her father's porch a long time ago. Ilia could not remember a time when he was not there. Fado had gone to Castletown, but the men were no less loud without him. He was a tradesman, a member of the guilds, a merchant. Taxes and dues had to be paid, agreements made, contracts signed. Ilia hoped, she prayed, she begged he would find a better wife.
She thought of all the things husbands and wives did. She did not want to hold his hand. The thought of sitting across from him at the table made her shudder. The idea of laying in a bed waiting for him to join her made her want to crawl inside herself and die. Ilia did not hate Fado. When Bulblins came to harass someone Fado would be the one to send them away with a bottle of ale, if someone was ill, Fado would be the one to fetch a doctor. The cheese Fado sold in the town brought them flour and salt. Fado kept them safe, Fado kept them well. She could never hate him.
She just dreaded him.
"I could just not get married." She had been tossing the idea around for a while. Every day it seemed more appealing. Uli laid a hand on her shoulder. Ilia looked at her wedding dress crumpled to her left. There was a permanance to Fado. He had the appeal of a set of closed windows and a locked door, all the comfort and shelter she and her father could not provide—none of the freedom.
"Not get married?" Sera exclaimed, "Who in their right mind—"
"MAAAAAAIL."
The loud, familiar wail of the mailman cut through Ilia's thoughts. All activities stopped. The play of the children was forgotten, as was Ilia's talk of never getting married. She watched Talo and Colin run, dripping wet, to the man and his red flag. He laughed nervously when they rushed him. He had no mail, no packages for them. He picked his way around them and went to the camp of women on Uli's porch. Pergie stood to take the mail—Uli was too weighed down by her pregnancy to move so quickly. Ilia watched the envelopes and scrolls change hands from the mailman to Pergie, from Pergie to Uli.
Then the postman looked at her.
And he balked.
He looked towards the city gate. He lifted his hat to scratch his head, he looked back to her, "How did you…? And where is…? Oof!"
Talo pushed past him. Ilia watched, confused, as the man fell over himself. He straightened his hat, looked at her strangely, and did not wait for her answer. All mail was delivered, he went on his way. Ilia did not see why Talo was so excited—he never got anything. Who would send mail to a child? Still, Talo was a curious boy and wanted to hear the stories from distant friends Rusl received. Uli smiled and quietly shifted though the mail until she found one for her husband, "Here-for Rusl. You and Colin take it to him."
Eager, Talo wiped his wet hand on his shirt. He clutched the letter with dry fingers and raced with Colin, shouting, "Read it! Read it!"
Pergie laughed fondly, and unwound a scroll from her sister. Ilia felt the prod of an envelop corner on her arm, "Fado has written to you." Uli said softly.
"Oh." Ilia was not interested. She tucked her hands away and did not touch it. "Has he?"
"It would be smart of you to read it. Exposure to him will help you like him." Malo advised.
Ilia decided Malo was out for some kind of vengeance.
She took the letter, but she did not read it. She could not read either way. Her father had never had the want to teach her, maybe he could not read, either, and by the time she was old enough, Uli was busy with Colin, Pergie was busy with Talo, and Sera was busy with Beth. She had never learned. She knew enough to recognize her own name, her father's name and Ordon but that was all she knew. She tucked the letter into the wrinkled dress and did not look at it.
"I don't want to read it."
Uli took the letter back with a soft sigh and tucked it behind her own mail, "My mother—your grandmother—in Arcadia has written."
"Hmm." Ilia tucked her knees under her chin. Once she had wanted to see Acadia, see the world, but now she knew it was impossible. She was doomed to a life in Ordon, Malo was right. A life tending goats and shrinking away from Fado in the house they were meant to share. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her knees. Arcadia seemed impossible when Ordon was so suffocating.
Uli scanned the letter. Ilia could barely read her own language, and Uli could read, write and speak two. Her mother only wrote in Arcadian. Uli laughed, a merry, quick sound, "A pair of Hylian travelers have come to her inn. It seems like she has taken a liking to them. He spends his days at the library, and she hires herself out as a bodyguard."
A daring path, Ilia thought to herself, Arcadia does sound like a dream.
"She's in good spirits and fine health. She sends you her love, Ilia."
"It would be nice if I got to meet her." Ilia straightened herself up. "It is strange to send love to someone I've never seen."
"Someday, you'll see Illium." Uli said with all the confidence of someone who knew it would never be, "I'll take you to the house I grew up in. You would like it there."
"Enough to stay?" Ilia asked, "Forever?"
"It is a change from Ordon." Uli replied, "But—"
"But all you'll ever need is right here." Sera assured her loudly. She had no mail to keep her quiet, "You've got famly here. A good husband waiting for you—a good husband you know is good. Uli—"
Uli jumped.
"Tell Ilia about how you and Rusl met. How did an Arcadian and a Catalian wind up settled in Hyrule of all places?"
"Now is not the time, Sera!" Uli hissed.
Ilia rolled her eyes and looked to her father's porch, where Rusl read his letter aloud on Colin and Talo and the men listened in. She supposed it was also from Fado. She could imagine no one else, though Colin and Talo looked like they had received the thrill of their young lives. Uli and Sera's bickering faded into the background. Ilia's interest was piqued. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. Fado could never share a thrilling word in his life, at least, not to her. Thinking, mostly out of spite, that she should follow Malo's advice, she left her Aunt's porch and went to her father's stairs.
"As for our mutual friends…" Rusl narrated, "They have sent word to me that they have arrived safely at their destination. To hear the boy tell it, the city of Ilium boasts a library beyond compare. His latest letter, which I just read, told of his 'Over-bounding exuberance.' How lucky we are to have a friend to teach us such fancy words."
Colin laughed.
"That letter isn't from Fado."
"No. It's from Telma."
That explained it. Telma was much better at weaving a good yarn. Ilia cared much more to hear from Telma. She had never met her, but she knew Rusl and Uli well. She was a friend of her father's, or had been a friend of her mother's. Ilia had been told once, but she had forgotten. Telma's letters were never addressed to any one person, just the whole of Ordon. She wrote things down day after day while she waited for the mailman to return, who always came their way after Castletown. What important things they had missed, who had arrived, so on. Ilia sat down on the stairs below Talo and Colin.
"Your man Fado arrived on schedule and in good heath, with only a bump on the head and a bruised ego courtesy of some stray Bulblins outside of Kakariko, the remnants of a disbanded raiding party on their way back from Tolemac (not like Fado knew this, but I can add sticks just fine) At a glance, he seemed no worse for wear, and he busied himself and bothered all patrons with endless questions about a 'perfect gift'—but he failed to tell me who he was asking for. With that little detail missing (give my love to Ilia!) he was given suggestions as bad as 'two pounds of salt beef', 'socks', and 'a new helm'. But once we all knew the toasts did not stop until midnight and the lot of them raised one hundred rupees so he could—" Rusl stopped and looked directly at her, "It is a surprise, so I will not tell you."
"Fine." Ilia grumbled, "That's fine I don't want to hear from Telma anymore anyway."
She left abruptly and joined Beth at the little foot bridge to dangle her feet in the cold water. Maybe it would help cool her boiling blood.
"Ilia!" Talo shouted from her father's steps, "If the surprise is candied oranges—I'm not saying it is but if Fado got you candied oranges, can I have some?"
Ilia would have smothered him in candied fruits if it meant she would have a moment's peace, "No!"
"Then it's coal." Talo replied, grumpily.
Ilia ignored him. She closed her eyes and dragged her feet through the water. She was so much taller than Beth that her feet went into the ankle, while her's only scraped the surface. Rusl continued to read the letter, Ilia tried her best to tune him out, but she could not help but listen still.
"By the time you get this letter, a man might have come your way—"
Beth was a distraction; "Mom and Uli have you working on your dress."
"Yes—and I'm not very good."
"And you haven't gone to the woods."
"No."
"Are you?"
It did need to be done. Ilia had put it off for too long and supplies were running thin. It was more important than her wedding dress; the trees in Ordon were there for shade and fruit. Firewood had to come from the woods. There were plenty of vegetables in the garden this time of year, but the wild berries in the woods added a little sweetness to their mornings and the wild mushrooms took the place of meat so Ilia did not need to slaughter a good laying hen every week.
"Don't you think you should?"
"It would be nice to have a little peace."
"Maybe you should take me, too? You have so much more to do and we don't have much. I'd be living off honey-glazed carrots and bread without the mushrooms you bring."
That was not entirely true. Ilia already traded Sera some spinach and tomato for bread and honey. She would have that, too, "Not today. It will be hot and you'd get tired."
"Tomorrow?" Beth pushed, "I need to learn what's good and what isn't." Beth had a point, Ilia supposed, but there was nothing poisonous growing in the woods. Ilia would have taken advantage of it already it there was. Beth kept talking, "When you get married—"
Again with that word! Now she understood. Sera and Beth were both taking up the crusade. Ilia abruptly pulled her feet from the river. Water splashed against the wooden boards and over Beth. She yipped and leaned back, "Ilia!"
If Ilia was going to scream at anyone, she did not want it to be Beth, and if she was going to say anything at that moment—she would scream it. So she said nothing. She marched to the house, ignoring Talo and Colin on the steps and the men in their chairs. Rusl stopped reading about some wild spectacle, Jaggle jumped in his seat and her father spluttered a quick, "Ilia!"
Ilia did not acknowledge him, either. She grabbed her sling and her basket from where the door, ready if ever she was. She turned and marched back through the door. The men moved back. Talo and Colin dove for the safety of the cool, damp dirt under the porch, and again, her father spluttered, "Ilia!"
"Good day, sirs." Ilia hissed before she left them. The separate camps were silent. Ilia turned her back to Fado's ranch and stormed northward, towards Faron woods and the tall house.
She steeled herself. There was a third camp, and it was still plenty loud. Ilia almost stopped in her tracks, but she swallowed her fear and pressed on. She could handle Bulblins. She had before, she could now. Her fingers were a bloodless white on the edge of her basket and the blood was pounding in her ears. She could handle Bulblins.
The camp sprawled around the base of the tall house, with two fires and a rubbish heap. Rain or shine they would be there, despite the empty house right beside them. The camp itself was circled around the ladder leading to the tall house as if someone was expected to emerge from it. No one ever did. No one ever would. Ilia often thought of moving into it herself; no one owned it, it would not be stealing. She would be removed from the village without leaving it entirely, and why would she need anything else? But she thought of the Bulblins below and their stinking pile of rubbish and their horrible leader and such thoughts were quickly kicked aside.
"She's riled up today, boss."
"She's pretty when she's angry."
Ilia felt a chill run up her spine and the spur of anger vanished quickly. She did not break her stride. She did not blink an eye. King Bulblin blocked her path. He always blocked her path. Once, a long time ago, he had moved out of her way whenever she came, snickering as she scurried past his shadow. Those days had passed. Now he just sat there, always, waiting for her. A red-eyed, green mass. He was not going to move. Ilia knew that. She would run right into him if she kept going. She slowed.
She stopped.
He smirked.
His dagger moved quickly and brutishly in his heavy hands. It was a sudden twist, just so the light on the steel would catch her eye. There was no skill to it. It was just a threat. Ilia drew herself up to her full height. He still seemed to tower over her.
"Haven't seen you in a while."
"Let me pass."
"Heard you're getting hitched."
"Let me pass."
He did not let her pass. He shifted his weight so that his massive green body filled the narrow pass Ilia wanted to go through tighter. He smiled, as comfortable as he would be in a nest of pillows. He examined the length of his knife with his thumb, pretending she was not worth looking at, but his red eyes flicked to her before focusing on her reflection in the blade. Ilia said it again, "Let me pass."
King Bulblin lifted his knife and pointed the tip at her. His beady, coal-red eyes looked at her past the blade. The way his tongue ran over his peelings lips when he did it made her skin crawl, and she wanted to run home and hide under her bed, but she stood her ground. He hummed thoughtfully. It was a grating sound, like heavy boulders rolling to her. He went back to sharpening his blade. Ilia swallowed her fear, "Let me go."
"Fado's just gonna let you—his little wife—march into the woods alone?" he tutted, "The woods are a mighty dangerous place, Little Lady. Got Deku Babas in there, monkeys, wolves, snakes… You're risking life and limb and your fiance…" he trailed off. He wanted her to say it. She kept her mouth shut, "You'll need to remind me, where is your man?"
"Castletown." Ilia muttered, "He's in Castletown."
"Hmmm…" King Bulbln hummed to some unheard music. Behind her, the Bulblins cackled with voices like twigs breaking in a fire. Her hand tightened into a fist. Her heart pounded in her chest. She was scared. She was angry. King Bulblin laughed at her, "Marrying the richest man in Ordon and you still have to forage in the woods, Little Lady?"
Again, he wanted the satisfaction of her answer. He laughed, but his eyes did not close. His eyes would not let her go. Ilia bore it in silence. Let him look. What could she do to stop him? She bowed her head. "Yes."
"If you were my woman-" he boasted, "I'd treat you like a queen."
His eyes left her and focused on the roaring fire roasting hunk of meat—a deer, maybe a wild boar. Ilia's mouth watered at the thought of it. Her stomach turned with hunger and disgust. She would rather starve than suffer his hands on her. While she had her head turned, she could feel him inching closer, his hot breath on her neck, his fingers reaching to touch her bones and tell her she was too skinny.
She jumped and turned. He had not moved. "You'd look better fat."
"Let me go."
He ignored her. He leaned back and spread his like like he was some gilded wonder to present, "I'd stuff you with plenty of things, pashmak, hawla, marzipan…"
Ilia shuddered. The Bulbins behind her snickered. This was a game to them. They left her alone, but they loved to watch him whittle her down. King Bulblin rubbed a hand between his legs as his eyes searched her, "Or maybe I'd keep you skinny, starve you down until until you'd do anything for a sip of water or a crust of bread."
Ilia could not bring herself to look at him. She told herself he did not really mean it. The Bulblins just loved to torment others, it was their very nature. If Ilia went into the woods, she would lose a little to the Bulblins as a toll, but if Beth, Colin or Talo even tried, they would lose a lot. Talo had once come back from the woods with a handful of berries and an eyeful of tears, having been told he could only take what he could carry without a basket. Colin had received an elbow to the forehead for catching one too many fish and they had hacked Beth's hair off with a bloody knife when she had found "too many" apples.
There was one—and only one—advantage to being the object of his attention. None of the other Bulblins dared to even speak to her. He did not really mean it. He just liked to see her frightened and eventually he would get bored with tormenting her. Fado would marry her and he would leave her be for the same reason he let Uli and Sera and Pergie be. She would be second-hand goods. It would be one good thing to come from that marriage.
"Please let me go."
"For a kiss."
Ilia opened her eyes. King Bulblin had leaned forward—close enough she could smell the sweat on his skin and the beer on his breath. He was not moving. Not until she submitted to him. Ilia wished she had brought Beth along. Beth would be bold enough to run screaming. She could hardly believe what she had heard. She took a step backwards.
"Kiss me, Little Lady." King Bulblin did not move. He would not let her go in peace.
Ilia wanted to gnaw her lip—she did not. He might think it was anticipation and not dread. Instead, she shook her head again and she managed a weak, "No."
He was not pleased. That sharp smile stayed carved on his face but it vanished from his eyes at once. Carefully, he stood. The camp quieted. Ilia took a step back. He took a step forward, trying to trap her against the rock ledge. Ilia shrank away from him and whispered again, "No."
"No, Little Lady?"
He had left the passage to the woods open. Ilia decided to move. She ducked under his arm and dove for the passage, catching herself on her hands and scrambling up before his finger had even closed around empty air. It was a straight shot from there to the woods. She could out run him. He was large and slow and ran out of breath after a few steps but the others? They were small, and just as quick as her.
"You'll get back here, Little Lady, if you know what's good for you."
Ilia risked a glance back. The Bulblins were tripping over themselves to do his bidding. Ilia thought, for one moment of peace, that she did have a chance, but a root caught her bare toes and she fell, hitting her cheek against the wall of the narrow pass. The basket cracked and crumpled below her. She tasted blood and stars danced before her eyes. She could not breathe. The world pitched. The gate leading out of Ordon loomed above her. It was supposed to keep them safe—it was supposed to keep the Bulblins out. It was not supposed to keep them trapped in.
"Go on!" King Bulblin shouted behind a pile of squirming Bulblins. He separated them with a powerful kick, "Drag her back screaming!"
Ilia pulled herself up, fingers clawing against the wall of the pass. The Bulblins were not far behind her, they were scattered and groaning from the force of their boss' kick, but they were picking themselves up. Ilia grabbed hold of her sling. A Bulblin grabbed the other end and jerked it violently. Ilia let go. He toppled back. Ilia could weave another basket. She could sew another sling. She would never be able to fix herself if King Bulblin got his hands on her. She staggered past the spirit spring to the low gate that barred her way. She could take her chances on Hyrule field, a territory she did not know with no hiding places, few resources and even more Bulblins or she could take her chances in Faron Woods, which she knew like the back of her hand and she could survive in for days. She would take the woods.
Ilia did not unlatch the gate. She jumped for it. The wooden bars scratched and scraped the soles of her feet. A Bulblin grabbed the back of her shirt. She jabbed her heel into his gut. He did not let go. Her shirt ripped at the seam. Another grabbed her by the ankle and tried to tear her off of the gate. The pain of it cut through her shoulders, but she did not let go. She kicked. She clawed. She pulled herself back to the gate, a hand at first, then her elbow, then her shoulder.
"Where do... You have... to go!?" King Bulblin demanded, the short run from the Bulblin camp to Faron gate had left him winded, "You'll come right back… here and I'll be waiting."
He stormed forward. In fear of the club he hd dragged with him, the Bulblins scurried away. Ilia threw herself over the gate. Pain bloomed in her side, spreading like a vine down her arm. Whimpering, she dragged herself away. Then she crawled. Then she ran. The fall hurt everything; her lungs, her legs, her head. She could hear the King Bulblin breaking through the gate behind her. She did not stay on the path. The first chance she got, she plunged into the thick trees. Branches slapped her face. Sweat burned her raw skin. Her throat burned. She kept going, pushing through the pain until her body had forgotten how to stop. He was right. She did not have anywhere to run to. Ordon was it for her. Ordon was all she had, and all she would ever be. He would never leave, and she would never get the chance. No matter what she did, she had to go back. There was no where else for her.
Ilia stopped when she could no longer hear King Bulblin's taunts through the trees. His booming voice had stunned the woods to silence. No birds sang. No creatures moved. Her ragged breathing was all she could hear. She pressed her back against a tree. She squeezed her arms around herself. She cried.
For the first time in her life, she actually hated Fado.
She had not hated him when he asked her father for her hand instead of her. She had not hated him when he treated their engagement like it was nothing and left town the next morning. She never thought she could hate him.
But now? Now she did. She really hated Fado.
She would not hate him in the morning. She would not love him, but in the morning she would only hate King Bulblin. She squeezed her eyes shut and rested her head against the tree. The tears burned the scrapes branches had left on her cheeks. The breeze dried the tears so her face felt stiff and sticky.
She had not much cared to marry him before. She hardly saw the point of it, but she knew once it was over and done with King Bulblin would leave her be, and Fado did live more comfortably than she and her father did thanks to his land and business. If she did not have children, who would take care of her in her old age? Ilia slid down the apple tree until she sat in its roots. Have children in a world like this? For her own gain? She would probably die anyway, like her mother had. She should just kill herself now. It would be the kinder thing to do.
She heard hooves.
She looked back to Ordon. Something big was tearing through the trees and heading her way. King Bulblin must have grabbed his Bullbos to search the woods for her. She could not outrun him on that. It moved closer. He must have beaten in into a blind frenzy to make it move so fast. Was he going to grab her by the hair and drag her though the woods? Run her down an leave her for dead? Throw her over its back and break her bones with his bare hands?
Ilia panicked. She looked for any place she could hide and her eyes fell on a patch of darkness under the roots of the apple tree. It was large. Large enough for her, at least. Maybe it was an old foxhole, or a den of snakes. Maybe the animals were still using it. Ilia did not care. She jumped for it. The roots scratched her cheek, her shoulders, her exposed back and she squirmed and pushed herself in side. She reached forward, her hands searching in pitch darkness as her body blocked any light from reaching the bottom. She felt cold stone and soft, crumbling earth. No fur. No scales. Nothing was inside. She pulled her feet in as the ground started to shake under the hooves. A shadow passed over the entrance to the hollow. A black blur of motion. The Bulbo moved so fast stray clumps of dirt flew into the hollow. Ilia held her breath. The thundering stopped. She swallowed a sob and pushed herself as far back as her hiding place would let her.
The hooves started to move, slow and careful. The beast was circling. King Bulblin was looking for her. Ilia felt a scream threaten to tear out of her. Her heartbeat seemed to echo around the hollow and she felt like the sun was shining directly on her, like anyone who looked would see her clearly sitting there. With shaking fingers, she reached out to search the wall for another nook to hide herself in. She found only wispy little roots and a pebble that fell to the ground when her fingers brushed it.
And that is how Ilia came to the tree.
