A note from the desk of Majesty...
The inspired Fanfiction from the great Victor Hugo and Disney's ''The Hunchback of Notre Dame''.
This three-shot was created shortly after the finale of my other Legend of Zelda Fanfiction: "Distractions". If you like this story, why don't you give it a read?
-I do not take credit for the genius plot of the movie; though mine's will be loosely based upon it.-
Without further ado...I give you "The Masks of Vanity."
-HVM
Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda or The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Kudos to Victor Hugo, Disney, and Shigeru Miyamoto.
The Masks of Vanity
.I.
Chapter One: Of Notre Trio Dame...
Gather round children, and listen. For this night I will tell the tale birthed in the city of Castelle Hyrule
Now the town was lively with it's daily hustle and bustle. Music and dancing filled every nook and cranny of each hearty home and the smell of bread filtered through the clean air, as sweet as the bird songs trilled on every tree.
And in the heart of this town was Notre Trio Dame. The Catheli. Home of the goddesses and Sanctuary of the People.
And up, up, high above it's towers were the giant brass bells of Notre Dame. They rang with the rooster's cry, their chimes echoing across the city signaling the beginning of the new day.
And within the confines of the bell tower, up the spiraling rafters, arches, and stairs, was the bell ringer.
The bellringer of Notre Trio Dame.
The monster.
.I.
Boughert hurried up the winding steps of the cathedral, feeling the same familiar dread creep up his spine as the dim candlelight faded. His hands shook uncontrollably, fingers struggling to keep grip over the tray of food.
Bread, berry juice, apples, grapes…
If only Tollemed hadn't left, then perhaps the High Priest would not have assigned him with the horrible task that the former had left behind. Two months he had been doing this, but the horror he felt only increased, much to his surprise.
Dawn was falling; he knew the creature would wake soon.
"If you cannot hold your mouth against obscenities, avert your eyes; lest the Holy Three smite you down."
The High Priest was stern in his warning. Boughert would drop the food; and despite the noises inside that would so often raise his curiosity, he would not look. He. Would. Not.
The door loomed over him half-open, the darkness beyond hurt his eyes. With a gulp and a final muster of will, he shoved the tray of food through. He heard a hollow clang and stiffened, waiting.
A moan erupted from the unknown beyond and he felt his blood run cold at the sound. It was low and gurgled. "Hhheelllpp."
The creature's voice pierced through his ears like a foreboding cry. Spinning on his heels, he ran like the crazed beggars the wandered the streets at night.
Bread, berry juice, apples, grapes… how can something so horrible have something so human?
.I.
He heard the inevitable fall of footsteps pounding harshly up the stairs and steeled himself. Hurrying to the door, he turned the knob, feeling the metal creak under his touch, and pulled it open. Half-open. Always half.
Today would be the day. Tollemed had gone and Boughert had come. Perhaps they could be friends; just as he was friends with Tollemed.
Perhaps…
He cloaked himself in the darkness, lest his visitor see and waited, heart thudding. Boughert came to an abrupt stop, eyes stuck to the ground below and roughly slid the tray of food past his door. It clanged against his knee and he held his breath, opening his mouth slowly.
The words he had practiced so very much came tumbling out of his tongue in what sounded like a plead; a moan for help. For someone.
"Friend…"
A look of terror flashed in Boughert's eyes as he dashed off.
The bell ringer of Notre Dame shut his eyes closed, feeling tears slide down his mauled, rough cheek.
"Need…help…"
.I.
Vaati Dosteit marched through the streets, his dark armor jingling as he walked alongside his Commander. His eyes scanned the perimeter, gritting his teeth. Clear. No sign of them anywhere. But then again, she could be lurking nearby, hidden.
Just thinking of her…it unsettled him.
...
"Corpest teh, vergo illem zetka?" The gypsy man cackled down at him, his gold tooth shining, eyes twinkling with something akin to mischief.
'Dead man. Have you come for a drink?'
The man pointed to his pallid cheeks, face flushed with glee.
Vaati nodded feebly. He did not wish to speak with the gypsy in their language, but the mission was in need of his sacrifice. He suppoused all those Heathen language classes were not completely useless after all. "Decti morkesa. Beulo peitiz junet mis leminde."
'A lot. I need to clear my mind.'
"Corpest Teh, dento hitne jestu dewink herkal. Chateau Romani!"
'Dead Man, don't think, just drink. Perhaps a bottle of wine! A Chateau Romani!'
Vaati's eyes went wide. The gypsies could afford the most luxurious wine in all of Castelle Hyrule? Impossible.
"Ule beyter Chateu?" He asked.
The man's eyes narrowed then he leaned over in deep throaty laughter that sent a wave of uncertainty through his stiff limbs. "Sempoble, olfet! Esto Corpest Teh!"
'Impossible, fool! Silly Dead Man!"
The bar exploded at the words, the drunkards suddenly jumping up with surprising vigour and launching out the windows where Vaati's comrades hid. He gasped, pulling back just in time as the gypsy man snarled, leaping for him.
Beer bottles crashed to the ground, cheap liquor spilling over. Vaati's fingers trembled as he unsheathed his sword. The gypsy man crouched low on the ground, grinning madly, and spoke in perfect Hylian. "You better put that away…or you're really going to be a dead man."
"I'm good." Vaati snarled, whipping the blade to the side.
The gypsy man dodged. "Ho, ho! You're a toughie, Dead Man."
"He's mine." A voice hollered out.
The gypsy man howled in laughter. "Much obliged!" He leapt backwards and crashed through the windows with manic glee.
Vaati staggered back as a flash of red erupted in his eyes. A woman. A gypsy woman dressed in a flowing red gown danced through the crushed glass, a fan twirling about in her hands. Vaati held his breath.
Her hair was the color sunlight, falling in fine silky strands that slithered through harsh wisps of wind in what seemed to be an enticing dance. Her finely molded face was pale with high cheekbones and a delicate chin; her lips were ruby red and her eyes glittered like rare sapphires. On her collar shimmered a golden necklace, most likely stolen, lighting up the contours of her exquisite features.
She smiled prettily, a sly look flashing in her eyes. "You won't live much longer, Dead Man. It's a shame, really." Her fan came to cover her jaw as she fluttered her slanted eyes. "You weren't half-bad."
Vaati swallowed, charging forward, sword first.
The gypsy laughed, twirling back then expertly flipping past him. Her movements were a blur; she spun around him, a torrent of red. A torrent of blood. The very same color that rushed up his cheeks as he found his mind wandering to her perfect figure. Her scent overwhelmed him and he coughed, stumbling back.
Her fan lashed out in a heartbeat, the hidden spikes slashing his cheek open and spilling droplets of blood. Her open hand slapped the nape of his neck and her knee jabbed against his gut. He fell to his knees, sword dropping to the ground beside him.
He could hear her tinkling laughter as the gypsy man returned with a half-empty beer bottle and a wicked grin. "Stay out, soldier. If you know what's good for you."
The bottle slammed against his forehead and Vaati succumbed to darkness.
...
"You've failed Vaati." The Commander said, his eyes dark with anger. "You've failed all because of her. Weak."
He lowered his face. "I am sorry, sire."
.I.
The Knight stood before the threshold of the Palazzo Ustelle, his hair blowing softly in the chilly wind. He drummed a finger against his thigh, his narrowed azure eyes flitting around the hall, taking in the splendor.
The sun glinted off his armor, temporarily blinding the Lady of Ustelle. He noticed, with no small amusement, the extravagant gown she had worn for him today. It was fetching, yet overwhelming as well. Too many fabrics crisscrossing, so big and poofy was the lace, he could have sworn she had taken up the entire doorway.
Yet it did little to mar the Lady's slender figure. Her curves were lined with a tight bodice. He bowed swiftly and stood just as quickly.
"My Lady."
She looked a little breathless as her cheeks reddened. He enjoyed the effect he had on her. "Sir Link. What a pleasant surprise."
He smiled slightly, taking the opportunity to shame her. It wasn't likely she'd figure out what he was doing. Or scold him for it for that matter.
"I live here, My Lady."
Her eyes widened and her lips trembled, her startled expression like that of an embarrassed child's. "But of course. I simply meant…we have not seen each other for quite a while."
"Far too long, My Lady."
"I was sent by my father. He wishes to discuss something important with you."
"Right now, My Lady?"
She blushed, batting her lashes as she flipped back a strand of darkened ruby hair in hopes of enticing him. "If it does not bother you, Sir Link."
"Your timing is impeccable." He commented, nodding. She laughed a little too eagerly, flashing a beautiful smile at him. He grinned in response.
"He is up at his study. And when you're done, perhaps we could talk over some tea?" She asked, hoping.
"It would be my pleasure, My Lady." He nodded, enjoying the sound of her cheery laughter greet his ears. Her hand reached for his arm, fingers running over the muscles underneath his tunic.
He forced a smile at her actions before gently taking himself away and down the hall.
.I.
-From the desk of Duke Raphael Ambi Ustelle-
On behalf of Palazzo Ustelle, I recommend our finest knight to you, Lord Ganondorf, in exchange for Sir Vaati Reyn Dosteit. I am certain we can both gain benefit from this trade.
Sir Link Capecti Avignon had been knighted at the early age of twelve for his commendable skills with The Sword. He had risen up our ranks quickly, and earned the title Captain of our militia at the age of fifteen.
He is now at his eighteenth summer, on the very verge of manhood, and his expertise can surely help with this 'gypsy problem' you are experiencing in Norte Hyrule.
I cannot guarantee a successful trade for I have yet to send him word of this, much less have his say on it. Yet, nothing in the Palazzo ties him so I can only assume he'd be more than willing for a change of scenery.
Write a letter back to me on the messenger falcon I have sent and tell me if you wish to barter.
Sincerely,
Duke Raphael Ambi Ustelle
.I.
Zelda laughed as Fabi fell off the broken rungs of the ladder, knocking over the hampers below, and landing in a heap of dirty clothes that stretched through the floor below, like a great, disgusting ocean.
"I don't know how you manage to be so graceful." She teased as the man stumbled to his feet. He shot her a dry look.
"If you hadn't saved the day, I'd…"
"Oh, come off it, Fabi." She giggled, interrupting the inevitable tantrum and effectively stopping it. "I was lucky."
"Like heck you were!" A slender redhead appeared under heavy lavender curtains, grinning cheerfully. She approached the table they sat around, her bare feet sliding along the cement floor. "That soldier, the really pale one. He was rather handsome."
"Not my taste." Zelda shrugged, dabbing a nasty wound on her shoulder with a cotton swab, ignoring her caretaker's stern glare from across.
"That will get infected." Impa scolded immediately, taking her place next to Zelda, dipping a wet rag in thick ointment and spreading it onto the girl's scar. "You really ought to be more careful."
"Yes, Mother." Zelda grumbled, rolling her eyes.
Impa stopped her nursing, eyes growing wide and hurt. Zelda mirrored the look and slapped her palm over her mouth. "I'm sorry Impa. I didn't-"
"I know." Her caretaker nodded stiffly, rising to her feet and running a hands through her silvery hair slowly. Her eyes were shut, line of agitation and stress becoming more pronounced as they reached across her weary features. "I'll get some sleep now." She turned and left without another word.
Zelda gulped, guilt dulling the sparkle in her eyes, and settling back in her chair. "I hate this."
The redhead cleared her throat tightly, opting for a change of topic. Zelda coughed as she breezed past them to pace around the table, the air suddenly reeking of perfume. "So, what do we do now?"
"About what?" Zelda asked, cupping her chin with a hand. She rested her elbows forward on the table, the damp rag on her shoulder sliding off carelessly, leaving a trail of water and smears of dry blood.
"Ganon's men."
Zelda snorted, sensing tension infect the air around her. "I'm more than capable of handing Captain Vaati, Cremia."
"You never know Zelda. We can't fight this war forever." Fabi shrugged cautiously.
Her eyes gleamed feverishly. "We can and we will. Whatever or whoever they send after us, I can take them. This I promise you."
.I.
~From the Desk of Lord Ganondorf Dragmire; Head of Norte Hyrule Militia~
On behalf of Castelle Hyrule, I would be honored to barter with you Duke Ustelle. Vaati Reyn Dosteit will be sent to you by carriage in a matter of days.
Please send Sir Link Capecti Avignon as quickly as possible as well, for I fear my city's problems are in dire need of help.
Much thanks,
Lord Ganondorf Dragmire
How do you like my debut intro?
Ah, I love that new story smell...don't you? :)
Review!
-HVM