Disclaimer: I do not own Nintendo, or the characters except for my own. Any similarities in story lines already published on this site are purely coincidental. I mean, I don't have time to read every story on here. I do have a life, you know.
Chapter 1: Fickle Freedom
She always knew she was different. She could see that in the Gerudo camp, west of the fortress, her skin was two shades lighter than those of the other women. Her hair was dark brown, not red. And her eyes were violet, not golden. And while their ears were slightly round, hers were pointed. They were sensitive, too. So sensitive, she knew what the horses were saying. She was an orphan. She was raised by the camp, but not mothered. She wondered if it was due to her race that she was despised. What did they gain by taking her in? She was fully grown. Twenty, to be exact. She'd been in the tribe for fifteen years. She could barely remember her own tribe. All she could remember was her village being burnt down, and being rescued. The details were blurry. The Gerudo custom was impressed upon her very quickly. She even remained silent unless she was spoken to. But now she realised that, due to her difference, the Gerudo encouraged it to protect her. Because, as soon as she opened her mouth, a fearful, non-understanding Hylian would have her lynched if they saw her canine teeth. The girl had fangs, a trait of her tribe. They were the width of ordinary canines, but the length of a matchstick. She otherwise looked normal. It may have been due to this that she was the only one left of her people. She answered to the name of Zanna, though who named her, she wasn't sure. She was beautiful on the outside and was well-intentioned. This belied something deeper and darker.
As far as hierarchy was concerned, she was a peasant. She served as a personal assistant to her mistress Danaru, a strict bandit. She had long blood red hair in braids, and loathsome eyes. She was just an inch taller than Zanna. And she was the Gerudo tribe's blacksmith. And in legal terms, Zanna's guardian, but in her eyes, Zanna was a slave. Zanna helped run the forge throughout her youth, and learnt to forge weapons, which was handy when her mistress was away. Even forged her own longsword and kept it hidden, knowing that Danaru would have her whipped.
Zanna was commonly seen in a sand-brown tunic and three-quarter-length brown trousers and light brown sandals that went up to the knee. She wore grey fingerless gloves and white bandages on each arm to protect herself from sparks while forging. Her hair had been cut short, but was now almost touching her shoulders.
"You've come of age," Danaru noted one day as they worked. "In our tribe, we have an initiation to prove our worth. The odd outsider is also initiated, regardless of gender or tribal origin. We've even had Hylians join our ranks. The tribal elders were discussing you lastnight. You grew up with us, and it has been decided that you will go up higher in rank. They wanted me to tell you, of course. I know you can do it. We've trained together."
"It is in my blood also, is it not?" asked Zanna.
"That, too," replied Danaru. "Your tribe were rather bloodthirsty..."
"Mistress, why was I spared?" asked Zanna. She knew it wasn't right, somehow.
"You were a child," Danaru answered plainly. "We didn't do the burning, but just because we're ruthless in general, doesn't mean we like to watch children die. And you showed promise. We knew you'd be useful to us. You're an obedient servant and you're strong. Enough said."
Zanna nodded silently as she worked away at a sword she was forging. Indeed, working for Danaru had made her physically stronger. Her purple tribal marks on her face also symbolised the bloodlust that was surging through her body, which she kept buried deep inside. But what burned inside her the most was the knowledge that somebody led the attack on her village, and one day she would investigate.
"The initiation is tomorrow," said her mistress. "Pass, and you will truly be one of us. And remember, I was only hard on you because I wanted you to be strong. But don't ever forget who you are."
Secretly, however, Danaru did not want Zanna to succeed. Passing the test would mean that Zanna would no longer be her slave. So once the slave girl went to sleep that night, Danaru conspired with some of the other bandits to sabotage the initiation. But Zanna wasn't stupid. Her ears were sensitive. She heard every word. It woke her up, and her blood boiled. Her genetic instinct was to pounce and tear the thieves limb from limb, but they were the ones who gave her a sense of belonging.
The next day, Zanna got up, got dressed, and headed to the dungeon where her test would take place. There were bandits inside the dungeon. Zanna took her sword, and some hunter blades and went in. Once she reached the main point, four masked women pounced and surrounded her. She was expecting them. She could hear their heartbeats several yards away.
She unsheathed her sword from the sheath on her back and leapt fiercely toward them. She found openings wherever she could and cut them open. She beheaded two of them in one swipe and gutted the other two. Without a flinch from the horrid sight, she proceeded to the end. With a bloodstained tunic she emerged from the dungeon, back into the heat of the day, the sand beneath her boots. The three elders were waiting.
"You are officially a Gerudo citizen," declared the first elder, who was an old woman.
"Your freedom is granted," stated the second one, who was middle-aged.
"You will be a great asset to our people," said the youngest, who was four years older than Zanna. "Welcome, Zanna. We do not expect you to forget your Canish roots, but we hope you remember that you will always be one of us, no matter what. No matter where you go."
"Thank you, elders," said Zanna. "I will never forget. Out of interest, where is Danaru?"
"We had heard that she had accompanied you to the trial and would wait for you on the other side," replied the oldest elder.
Zanna suddenly felt sick to the stomach. Danaru had indeed escorted her, but disappeared in a strange direction. She had obviously entered the dungeon from the top. And was masked...
"There are four bodies in the dungeon," she confessed. "All of them masked... I think I should inspect them..."
"Are they Gerudo?" asked the youngest.
"Yes they are," replied Zanna. "They attacked me in the dungeon, so I had to defend myself."
"Strange," said the oldest woman. "That wasn't part of the trial... How did they get in there?"
"Let us all go," said the middle elder. "We can all identify the perpetrators. It's no surprise to us that they would be jealous of a non-Gerudo."
"I never wanted her to die," said Zanna quietly. "I was angry that she'd betrayed me, but I would have forgiven her..." How was she to know, under that damn veil?
When they returned to camp, there was an intense air that Zanna sensed, and when she looked in the eyes of the other thieves, it was as though a dark cloud had settled over the camp. Though she was now a citizen, her welcome had already ran out.
