A/N: I do not own the characters of The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, or any copyright to anything, really. I just own the characters that I create, such as the young female in the oneshot. Enjoy!
Muse
The young one in my gaze fascinated me. So young and soft, more supple than any of my Gerudo warriors. Large blue eyes blinked tiredly at my inquiring gaze, confused as to why I would be so near at such a late hour. I observed her stretching, flexing her limbs into full extension, and then limply dropping back onto the blanketed surface beneath her.
She started slightly when I suddenly approached her, realizing that my footsteps were the first thing she'd heard all night. A raised eyebrow was all it took to instill safety in her. I walked towards her quietly, a feat that left many others wondering how a man of my…dimensions could manage stealth. Reaching the bed, I seated myself, still wondering how it was that this young one could really be unafraid of me.
I am, or rather was, the King of Evil, easily the most feared man in all of Hyrule and the surrounding realms. The most feared contender in the Super Smash Brothers Tournaments. My size alone was more than ample to instill uncertainty into the bravest of foes.
And yet for all my reputation, this young one is comforted by my presence.
I gazed at her, taking in the soft curvature before me, her richly curled walnut locks splayed out across the pillow. She was much smaller than I, barely reaching the top of my midriff, and so she appeared tinier in my bed than she truly was. Already I could hear her soft breaths, she was sleeping deeply again, my presence not bothering her in the least.
I frowned. No matter how many times I told her, she still insisted on freezing herself by sleeping on top of the blankets, rather than underneath them where it was significantly warmer.
That was something else that fascinated me about her; she understood everything I said, and chose whether or not to obey my words. All my life my word has been law, not easily overpowered or undermined. All of that is put aside when a slightly unruly young woman disobeys my instructions to simply keep warm. Sighing, I pick her up easily, slinging her partially over my shoulder, and pull back the blankets. I lay her down, noticing that she still refuses to uncurl herself from her near fetal position. Covering her up, I moved back to the end of the bed, noticing that as the warmth enveloped her, she slowly uncurled not unlike a delicate desert blossom after the night's chill.
Hmmm. Perhaps she is my flower, so small and delicate, yet amazingly resilient. No, flower does not suit her. Lover perhaps, in the distant future. Yes, the monstrous side of my craves the sweet attentions of her flesh; to hear her scream my name in the throes of ecstasy, entirely satisfied by my touch, and more than willing to bend to my will. To feel her sweet lips lavishing what only attention a female can give to a man would be utterly divine.
No. A lover she may become in the distant future, but for now she is simply the young one who has captured my attention, and dare I say it, affection. Never before have I felt the need to please anyone but myself. Never have I strove to protect anyone other than the pawns I would use to garner more power. This has changed though. I feel a need to watch over this one, shelter her from harm. When the other fighters taunt her, a deep rage swells within me, effectively silencing her tormentors. I enjoy their fear as I step towards them, fully knowing that they dare not say a contrary word to me.
I want, no, I need to ensure that I do not slip back into the older habits of mine.
I am inspired to reach for the better half of myself in her presence.
Ah!
So that is what she is to me! I have finally found the word I am searching for.
She is my Muse.