Author's Note: I do not own The Legend of Zelda. It belongs to Nintendo. This is a prequel to Din's Monster. It is also a fair bit darker than Din's Monster, so if that's not your cup of tea, please read no further; this fic is not for you.
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She waited.
The sands were still. The wind was silent. The night was cool, and the stars and moon shone brightly in its sky. The white cloth of her uniform brushed lightly with her skin, and the familiar weight of her weapons was the only comfort she could afford among the solitude of the dunes.
She waited.
Vanri was many things. She was gorgeous by the standards of her people, her red hair and purple eyes only adding to the splendor of her immaculate copper skin. She was a kind and considerate friend as well as a born leader, able to inspire loyalty and adoration in all she spoke with. She was an excellent tactician and peerless warrior; indeed, she had never lost a battle in her life, no matter its scale, and there was no form of combat she had not long since mastered. She was considered by many to be the pinnacle of what a Gerudo could be.
She waited.
There was no choice but to wait. The warrior side of her was salivating at this glorious opportunity, but the leader, the friend, the mother side of her dreaded it with all her being. There was no opponent greater than the one she was to face tonight, nor any more terrible. It was a Monster among Monsters, bolstered by the wrath of an angry Goddess and unrelenting in its savage campaign of genocide. This was a being that had broken armies and razed the mightiest strongholds, and it had done so alone. If she lost the coming battle, her people would be slaughtered to the last man, woman, and child. Her friends…her husband…her precious daughter would all die underneath the edge of its blade. She had never lost a battle before, but she only needed to lose once to lose everything. That was something she would never allow.
Din's Monster was coming.
Her chosen tools of the trade for this most important of tasks had raised a few eyebrows back home. All she had brought with her were supplies for the journey, twin scimitars, and a halberd. They were marvelous feats of craftsmanship, to be sure, but she was going to fight a beast more dangerous than any her people had fought before. Were these really the only things that she would bring? She would not consider a bow and some arrows, or perhaps a mace?
Death was coming.
No, she would not. Of all the weapons she'd mastered over the years, these icons of their culture were the still the ones that she felt the most comfortable with. They were the ones that she could fight best with. Bringing anything beyond what was strictly necessary would only hinder her, and even the slightest hindrance would mean the difference between victory and defeat. She wasn't used to such micro-managing efficiency, but she had no choice; this battle was one that would decide the fate of the Gerudo. She could afford to do no less.
It was coming.
She imagined that she must've looked rather odd, standing alone among the sands of her homeland, eyes closed and arms folded, twin blades strapped to her back and polearm impaled in the ground next to her. It didn't really matter, of course; how she looked before the battle is not what history would remember. History wouldn't even remember the actual events of this fight. It would only remember the victor. All else would be consumed by time's eternal march. She hesitated…and opened her eyes.
He was here.
He was almost exactly as what few survivors of previous encounters with him had reported. He appeared as a massive man in both size and frame, towering over her by several feet and muscular without any unnecessary bulk. His eyes were glowing brightly with barely contained Power in its purest form, and his red and blue facial markings were vivid even among the intensity of the rest of his presence. The snarl he wore was one of pure malice. His expression was by far the fiercest she'd ever seen; she wondered for a split second if he were even capable of non-violent thoughts. His right hand was clenched tightly into an enraged fist while his left hand gripped the hilt of his Double-Helix Blade, and his armor and the blue-grey cloth of his tunic shifted with every tensing of muscle he experienced.
She was going to die.
The realization came to her the moment she saw him. No matter how hard she fought or what she tried, she would not survive this encounter. It wasn't as frightening a revelation as she thought it might've been, honestly. If anything, it was actually kind of liberating. She was going to die, but that didn't really matter; she hadn't come here to save herself.
She'd come here to win.
If her life was all that was required to secure her what was left of her people's future, then that was a price she'd happily pay a thousand, thousand times. As long as he was stopped, as long as she could take him to the afterlife with her, it didn't matter whether or not she lived or died. If her life was what was needed to bring her victory, then her life would be well spent indeed.
Wordlessly, she drew her halberd from the ground and readied herself.
It was a challenge. If he was even capable of rational thought, he would see this for what it was; she was challenging him to a duel. Any warrior worth their salt would have been able to see that. She had to admit, she was rather surprised when he hunched down a bit and appeared to be readying himself. It seemed to like he had actually understood after all…so he wasn't an unthinking automaton. He was, despite his power, a man. She had yet to meet a man, great or small, that could survive having his throat cut out, his heart pierced, or his brain skewered. The silence became deafening, and the world itself seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
He struck first, a roar of unfettered fury escaping his lips as he did so.
She'd been expecting that, of course. What she hadn't expected was his speed; she had thought he was all power without need for anything else, but this opening attack proved her dead wrong. She noticed, even as she only barely managed to dodge to the left, that his blade was not only fast and strong; it was swung with the ability of a master. The ground where his sword connected exploded from the force of his strike, and it sent her flying several feet back. She managed to actually land with her feet on the ground, thank goodness, but she had no time to collect herself fully before he was attacking again.
He was better than her.
Not as a person, perhaps, but as a warrior? There was no question in Vanri's increasingly incredulous mind as to who was superior. She had thought herself to be masterful, but now she realized she had never known true mastery before. He was stronger, faster, more dexterous (despite his far greater size), more accurate, and worst of all, more experienced. He knew exactly where to strike and when, and it was only her own not-inconsiderable ability that allowed her to survive this long against him. Add onto that his far greater reach and what seemed to be (if the stories of the Monster's atrocities were any indication) a limitless well of stamina, and the battle went from "incredibly difficult" to "nigh-impossible".
But even a 1% chance was still a chance.
She had to keep herself moving, had to stay on her toes and wait. This wasn't an opponent little strikes would work against, and even one mistake from her would mean her death. His superiority in almost every category made this incredibly hard and absolutely unsustainable, but as long as it lasted long enough…there! At last, a mistake; he'd been going for a vertical strike, but had slipped on the sand below his feet and lost his balance. With one desperate twist of her halberd, she struck as hard and as fast as she could at his now exposed neck…only for him to make another strike of his own at the same time. It was much less accurate, being almost feral, but it didn't matter; she hadn't seen it coming either way.
His blade shattered hers so easily the halberd might as well have not existed, and Vanri felt a deep gash form across the length of her torso.
The Last Hope of the Gerudo jumped back to get some distance between them even as she drew her two scimitars, but the damage was done. Blood spilled from the wound and stained the sands the two combatants fought on, and pain blazed to life throughout Vanri's being. Damn it…this was bad. This took the time limit she'd been fighting under and made it hasten fairly significantly. A battle of attrition had already been impossible; now she couldn't even afford to wait for another opening. As impossible as it was, she would have to abandon defense entirely and force an opportunity!
She charged at her killer, fearlessly defiant of her fate even as it came to claim her.
The battle couldn't last long after making such a decision, of course. With no thoughts of defense left, she focused her all into offense, and she could not be cowed. That being said, it still left her with no defense; if she couldn't end the battle with this last act of pure desperation, she would die…and worse, she would lose. He'd emerge unscathed, ready to exterminate what remained of her brethren. And that was something she'd never allow.
He hadn't expected her courage.
That much was clear; the shock of her suicidal charge was the only thing that allowed her to slip past his guard. Miraculously, impossibly, she'd been granted another chance. She could still stop him! She could still save the Gerudo from the direst threat they'd ever faced! Without hesitation, she swung both scimitars, once again targeting his neck. She would cut it open; he wouldn't be able to breath, and even if he avoided choking somehow, the blood loss would end him regardless. He didn't even have time to mount a defense; she just had t-
Her swords hit their mark perfectly…and shattered against his neck, leaving it unscathed.
All of Vanri's energy left her as the Gerudo's only hope was mercilessly turned to ashes before her eyes. Despair gripped her in that moment as she realized just how hopeless it all was. It hadn't mattered what plans she could have thought up. It hadn't mattered what tactics she brought to the fore, what blades she used or how fine their quality was. It hadn't mattered how hard she fought, or how single-minded she pursued her goal. She couldn't hurt him in the first place. Anything she could have done, and everything she had done…it was meaningless. It was nothing against Din's Monster.
The battle had been over before it had ever had the chance to start.
A sharp pain in her stomach wrenched her from her thoughts. Looking down, she discovered that her foe had impaled her with his right hand, itself still clenched in an enraged fist as it emerged from her back. She didn't know whether it was a boon or a curse that he had somehow missed her spine, but all things considered, she supposed it didn't matter either way. She stumbled back as he tore his arm free of her gut, dropping the useless hilts of her broken weapons as she did so. The sound of their impact on the desert's surface was more deafening and final to her than any battle cry could've hoped to.
Yet she stood tall.
She didn't even know why, honestly. She was a dead woman. Her vision wavered as her life began to fade. And yet, despite knowing how worthless her efforts were and how doomed her people were…despite knowing all of that, she stood her ground. She continued to face the one who had slain her, somehow able to remain proud and defiant. She felt herself raising her fists, the action being almost automatic to her, and she steeled herself to face an opponent she could no longer so much as see. So what if this was meaningless? So what if nothing she did now mattered? Even if it only bought her people a few seconds more, she would fight. She would not yield, even at the very end.
"Monster…as long as I…live…you…will not pass!"
She couldn't see him; her vision was too dim now to make out even the most general of distinctions. She didn't know what he was doing, or what his reaction to her proclamation was. For the longest second of her life, she had no idea what was happening. But then she heard the Monster charge, felt the oncoming blow long before it landed. A small, peaceful smile crossed her face as his sword descended on her, closing her eyes as she accepted the end at last. She felt, for only a half-instant, one final moment of agony. And then…all became nothing.
The Paragon Fell.