A lone figure wandered silently on a desolate beach. The black sun was giving off its last burst of toxic rays, burning in a blood-red sky. The sand beneath his feet was hot, the heat radiating through his thick leather bound boots. Waves of steam rose from tepid waters of an eerily still ocean. All around him, the world was burning beneath the red sky, reeking of death. All around him, the world he helped to create was decaying.
And it was all his doing. The god of War and the Moon held no remorse for the final war that he brought to this earth. It did not matter that this fight was the demise of humankind.
"Damn them all," he cursed. "My followers did not bring me to victory and the rest were enemies that stood in my way. They all deserved this fate…"
Those people he now cursed had given him a new name, one that reflected his violent nature: the Fierce Deity. His true name was lost to the ravages of time and buried beneath centuries of war. It did not matter to him that his own people stripped him of the identity granted to him by his Fathers. He did not need a name to tame him. He did not want a name to tame him. A name gave a man humanity: a tether to his wandering soul, keeping him from the darker side of his nature. A name was to be a reminder that there was more to a man than just his primal nature.
Well, he was no man was he? He was a god, far above the petty morals of mankind.
He gave one last thought to the people who had worshipped him as the god of war, the one to whom they had prayed for victory and strength in battle. Battles that he himself had begun, satisfying his own vicious whims and insatiable bloodlust. Any lesser god would feel regret for using his own worshipers as pawns in their self-serving games.
Unforgiving gray eyes scanned the crimson horizon. The Fierce Deity would find no remorse in his actions. He would not let himself feel anything but rage and hatred until this final battle had met its inevitable end. And it would not end until he was rid of her.
The menace that had been a thorn in his side since the day he was created; his youngest sister, the one that their Fathers had named Majora. She had been granted the gift of Magic, a foolish decision that the Fierce Deity considered a grave mistake. His sister proved her insanity in the tense moments after her birth, when she emerged from the newly created ocean as a young woman and when told that she was to be the deity to watch over the waters of the earth, she had thrashed and screeched like a wild animal.
The humid air ruffled his pure white hair as he recalled that moment. He had rushed at her, barely more than a few hours older than her and also freshly created, filled with hatred for this screaming girl. His heart had beat fast, a new sensation, and the Fierce Deity remembered the intense desire to see her dead by his hands. It had been his first taste of the fierceness of his own soul. As much hatred he had felt in that moment, it was thrilling to feel the first rushes of his reason for being created. As the god of war, he was not meant to have a gentle heart.
Majora had seen him coming, and she had taken a stance, ready to pounce at him, but the gods had pulled back their son and daughter. That was why the Fierce Deity had come to the ocean to find her. This was the place of her birth and their first volatile meeting. Though they both had deep hatred for this small, insignificant stretch of isolated beach, no other place would be fitting for the end to their saga. He knew that Majora would come. Her thirst for his blood was just as strong. In this one and only way, the Fierce Deity knew that Majora would not disappoint him.
The black sun did not fall from its lonely place in the bleeding sky. Hours or days might have passed, but the Fierce Deity did not know, nor did he care. He had already lived an eternity. What was time to him?
It did not alarm him when he eventually heard the sound of heavy footfalls trampling over the hot sand. So she was going to attack him from behind? The Fierce Deity frowned, the red and blue war paint on his skin itching as sweat beaded on his forehead, adding to his irritation. No, if she were to attack him, she would not begin with something so cowardly. Of all the vile things that the Fierce Deity justified calling his sister, coward was not one of them. She was as brave as she was insane.
"Hello dear brother…" a whisper carried over the tepid surface of the glassy ocean, echoing dissonantly in the silent, dead world. A powerful, fearsome warrior god he might have been, but the Fierce Deity could not help the shivers than ran down his spine at the sound of the entity's voice. It was as though death itself was carried in each syllable spoken, inhuman and eager to extinguish the flame of life.
The words themselves were a taunt. There had never been a pleasant moment between them. Since the day of their birth, Majora and the Fierce Deity had been bitter rivals and hateful enemies. The phrase"…dear brother" bounced around in his head and the Fierce Deity felt a fresh surge of rage swell in his chest. Majora was taunting him and he was impatient to rise to the occasion. His fingers unwittingly twitched, aching to wrap themselves around the hilt of his mighty sword and begin this final battle.
Yet even with all the bloodlust boiling beneath the surface, the Fierce Deity could not bring himself to turn around. Not yet. He had heard rumors of the twisted being that morphed from what was once his sister, the beautiful daughter with raven black hair and eyes as blue as the ocean from which she was born. There was no love lost between the two siblings but still…
It was sickening to think of what she had become.
"Why won't you turn to face me," the voice behind him hissed. Majora no longer had that singsong voice which was once so deceivingly sweet. Though, she did not sound like a man either. This new creature spoke in a voice that was stripped of all femininity and masculinity and into a beastly snarl that made the Fierce Deity's skin crawl. She hardly even sounded human anymore.
Taking a breath to steady himself before the battle, he turned to face the monster that his sister had become. The blood pumped faster through his heart when he caught sight of Majora and his breath hitched in his throat. A sick feeling of dread and revulsion rose up in his gut.
It was worse than he could have ever imagined. The rumors of how her magic, the one she named Ikana, disfigured the once beautiful sorceress did nothing to prepare him for the twisted thing that stood before him. The last time he had laid eyes on her, many years ago, he saw her standing on this same beach. Even then, her magic was deforming her, though then she only looked like a woman stricken with a terrible illness. Now she did not even slightly resemble the goddess that she was.
A tall creature, highly and garishly colored, with grotesque limbs and long, thick tendrils growing from the wrists stood before him. Horns grew from a hairless head and a single glassy orb on the forehead stared down at him. A wide, gaping mouth full of sharp razor teeth smiled back at him. The Fierce Deity had seen his fair share of monsters in his days, but nothing could hold a candle to the horror of what Majora had willingly become.
"You look troubled, dear brother," Majora answered to the Fierce Deity's silent observations. "Surely you must have known that I changed…"
Though he knew that Majora's new form was able to speak, it jarred him to hear a voice, even one so inhuman as hers, coming from such a beastly looking thing.
"Changed?" He scoffed, his voice tight with anger. "Oh, this is more than just a simple change. You are a monster! Why have you done this to yourself?" He demanded, taking a step closer to his adversary. As he did, his nose caught a whiff of Majora. She reeked, as though her very soul was decaying from the corruption of the Ikana.
"It does my heart such good to hear your concern for me, dearest brother," Majora answered amiably, but the Fierce Deity could detect shades of growing anger in her voice. "Yet your words betray ignorance and a simple mind. It is only fitting, seeing as how strength and warring are merely surface level concerns. There has never been any depth to you because you have never dealt with things beyond what you could see."
"Watch your tongue, witch," the Fierce Deity growled. "Do not insult me before our battle if you do not wish for a painful death."
"See! That is exactly what I mean," Majora continued on, ignoring her brother's warnings. "All brawn and no brains. That is what you are. I am greater than you because I do have both. My magic is my strength granted by the Fathers and my Ikana is my very own creation, my child. They are burrowed so deeply within my soul. My beauty was meaningless and useless to the Ikana. It was a hindrance to the growth of my magic, a distraction, and like a good mother, I sacrificed my vanity for the sake of my child. Is this sacrifice of my physical beauty so different than you asking your worshipers to sacrifice their lives for you?"
In a tense moment of silence, the Fierce Deity could not help but balk at her words. That was how it always was with the two of them. Majora always turned the argument back on him, forcing him down to her level of depravity. She always sought to prove that they were more alike than he would ever care to admit. It was one of the things he hated most about her.
"Your filthy magic is not a child, you beast," he spat back vehemently, trying to bury her words under his rapidly rising fury.
A laugh, chilling and strange, emerged from the creature standing before him. It almost sounded familiar to his ears, hinting at the old voice of Majora before her transformation. "Oh but it is. And my child, my precious Ikana has destroyed you, Astraeus…"
Enough. That was enough talking. The sound of his true name rang in his ears and he detested every syllable of it. Hearing it spoken from Majora's lips with her hateful voice struck a nerve deep within him. His fury had reached a boiling point and with that final taunt, it had spilled over. It was time to begin. The Fierce Deity had come here for a battle, not to argue with useless words.
"Not yet, Majora," he replied heavily as he drew his massive double helix sword from its scabbard on his back. The metal rang harshly in the deathly air. The gaping mouth of Majora's face drew into a wide grin, all pointed teeth gleaming red under the black sun. Fierce Deity could sense her excitement for battle.
"I still draw breath. Blood still rushes through my veins. As long as I yearn for battle, I am not yet departed from this world. I am the god of war. I was created to fight and to win. You already know how this will end."
The creature called Majora cocked its head to the side, as if curious. Then in a whirl of movement, the long tendrils of the arms were flinging around. The Fierce Deity raised his sword, ready for the assault. His heart was pounding wildly and he felt a wicked glee at the prospect of this battle. It had been a long time coming.
"Indeed, I do know," Majora simply whispered in reply, readying herself for the fight. "Now, shall we dance?"
The only reply he gave was a terse nod. Without warning, Majora lunged at her brother, giving a loud shriek that pierced the atmosphere. The Fierce Deity roared like a lion in response. Sword met flesh. The battle had begun. A dying world around them gave no notice. Not a soul was there to witness the greatest battle in an ages long feud.
At least not any mortal soul was there.
A pair of narrowed eyes watched as the mighty god and wicked goddess sparred endlessly. Wounds, which no mortal man could ever withstand, were inflicted on both Majora and the Fierce Deity. Blood soaked the sand and the battle cries of the immortals filled the air, falling on the ears of an observer that they had yet to notice.
Time did not pass as the battle raged on. All the while, their observer patiently waited for a chance to intervene.
The Fierce Deity swung his sword into the tender flesh of Majora's unguarded side She stumbled backwards as blood gushed from dozens of wounds. Though he was inflicted himself, his enemy was far worse. He smirked wickedly at Majora's obvious pain. He was the god of war. Did she truly expect victory? His fingers gripped the hilt of his sword, slick with gore, and he readied himself to strike his sister. Majora was struggling to rise to her feet, but Fierce Deity sensed her determination to finish the battle with victory.
"Have you had enough?" He mocked. "Or shall I put you out of your misery and cleave your body in two?" As he raised his sword to end Majora's life, he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He suddenly sensed a presence watching him and his sister. Majora must have seen it too, for her head turned on her short neck to look behind her brother. Curiosity pulled at him. He did not think that there was a soul left on this earth. What could possibly be left after the final war he and Majora waged? Despite himself, the Fierce Deity turned his head to see who was there.
It was another immortal, another one of his siblings, one that he had not even thought to exist anymore. His only brother, his true name also forgotten and even knowledge of his existence as a god no longer remembered, stood on the sandy shore. It was rumored that he lived amongst the mortals, a purveyor of masks and such nonsense. He had always been an odd little god, but never one that the Fierce Deity considered an enemy, just an amusing nuisance at times.
The Fierce Deity could hear Majora finally get back on her feet, but he did not concern himself with her now. Their brother was here after being gone for an age, and the Fierce Deity did not believe it bode well for either him or Majora. The little god stood there, wringing his hands and grinning at them as if it were all some joke. He swayed gently where he stood, looking frail beneath an enormous sack full of his wares. The Fierce Deity noticed dozens of masks dangling from the surface.
"What in the name of the Fathers brings you here?" The Fierce Deity demanded roughly.
"The Fathers sent me here," the little god crooned with a strangely cheerful voice. "They are quite unhappy with you two."
"The Fathers can burn in agony," the Fierce Deity snapped. "They have no authority over us any longer."
Majora choked out a reply as well, her opinion on the Fathers, unrepeatable and shocking to even the Fierce Deity.
The little god laughed, a high-pitched muffled chuckle and an aggravated Fierce Deity thought that his brother should probably die as well. He tightened his grip on his sword, half-expecting for an asinine parable that he was sure not to care about. It was his brother's way.
"The Fathers sent me here," he repeated. "They are quite unhappy with you. I have been sent to administer a punishment, if you two do not stop fighting and make peace with one another."
It was his sister who answered their brother's strange threat.
"We are not to be punished like mere mortal children! Damn the Fathers! We are destined to finish this battle. Do not interfere with us." Majora spat out. For once in his entire existence, the Fierce Deity found himself siding with Majora.
"Peace is not an option. Only death." The Fierce Deity threatened darkly. His voice was shaking with fury. How dare the Fathers try to stop them now. The fault for this entire feud lay partially in their mistakes. He was simply trying to fix a problem they had created. The double helix sword was now pointed at his grinning brother. "If you chose to interfere, we have no choice but to end your life."
But the little god only shook his head, his smile never leaving his face. "You should not have done that," was his calm reply. Majora and the Fierce Deity did not care to heed his warnings. They rushed at him, for once united in a single goal. Only one swipe of his sword and one stab from her tendrils would get rid of this troublesome pest. Then they could get back to their fight.
The god hardly flinched as he watched the two beasts raging towards him. He even allowed himself a tiny chuckle as he withdrew a small clay ocarina from the folds of his jacket. His lips closed around the mouth of the instrument and he began to play a tune, deeply haunting yet surprisingly simple.
Notes of a song drifted through the air and the Fierce Deity stopped dead in his tracks. He watched his brother plop down on the sand and play on his ocarina as if nothing was wrong. Majora too had stopped and her head was once again cocked to the side, this time truly curious as to what their brother was doing.
The song filled the Fierce Deity's ears and he found himself quickly entranced by the rising and falling of the notes. The world around him became fuzzy and he could hardly feel his own limbs anymore. Only the song rang out clearly and the Fierce Deity found himself only caring about this song. It was the most important thing in the world now. Majora be damned. The Fathers be damned. The god playing this strange song was the only thing that mattered.
The little god watched as his siblings stood as still as statues, frozen by the spell of his song. Why not play with them a little, he thought mischievously to himself. The Fathers had given permission to do anything in his power to subdue Majora and the Fierce Deity. He would allow himself a little fun at their expense.
The Fierce Deity raised his heavy arms and began a crazed dance. Majora followed suit. Through his music playing, the god smiled. This was far too satisfying. It would not take too much longer now…
A black sun in a red sky whirled in his vision as the Fierce Deity danced with all the might he possessed. His own thoughts were gone. He was nothing more than a slave to the song and dance. Before long, he felt himself suddenly go stiff but this did not alarm him. A spell had captured his thoughts and feelings. Pain shot through his body and he felt his muscles hardening. His body morphed together. Arms melded into his sides. His legs twisted together and curled into his body. Everything about him seemed to come together and then shrink. It was sheer agony, but the Fierce Deity hardly registered what was happening to him. Only a dim panic resounded in his blank mind.
Then as soon as it had started, the Fierce Deity's mind became his own once more. He was on his back, staring up at the sky. The pain was gone. The song was gone. It seemed as though Majora and his brother were also gone.
The Fierce Deity tried to call out, but he found that his lips would not move. His fingers reached for his sword, but with alarm, the Fierce Deity realized that he did not feel any fingers or arms to even move.
"What in the hell is happening?"
A shadow and he saw his brother looming like a giant over him. Full-blown panic rushed through him. Since when had his puny brother of a god turned into a giant? To his complete and utter horror, the giant that was his brother reach out and picked him up. The Fierce Deity was screaming with all of his might, but not a sound escaped his tightly closed lips. Over the sand he was carried and they came to the ocean, the water smooth as glass.
"Would you like to see what you've become?" He heard the voice of his brother ask, sounding so muffled and far away. The Fierce Deity was lifted over the surface of the water and finally caught a glimpse of what had happened.
A mask held in his brother's hands glared back at him. It was a face that he recognized; a tuft of pure white hair framing an angry grimace with blue and red war paint on pale skin. Yet it was the eyes that frightened him. He did not know those two black, empty holes staring back at him. The face of this mask could not possibly be his. Yet the Fierce Deity knew without a doubt that somehow, his brother had bested him. The mask he held in his hands was not just a poor representation of the Fierce Deity. This mask was the Fierce Deity.
The Fierce Deity Mask heard his brother laugh in his strange way, and a string of words wafted over the lonely earth, heard only by the man and the masks on the beach.
"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"
Thank you for reading! I have to say, a lot of the oneshot that you read is taken from a chapter from one of my stories called Healing the Moon. I guess you could say that I expanded on a very short scene from that chapter and I tried to give as much background info as I could without it being too much exposition and not enough story. I hope that it wasn't confusing or left you feeling like you didn't really know what happened. As long as you got the gist that they have been enemies for a long time, were involved in a great war, and that the four gods of Termina created them, then I guess that's okay? Or you could hop on over and read Healing the Moon to get the full story...whatever you prefer :)
Another random fact; my epic friend and I like to do this thing where we give each other song lyrics and we have to write a short story with those lyrics in there somewhere. We call them our challenges! So this challenge was based of the lyrics "you already know how this will end," from the song How It Ends by DeVotchKa. Thanks again for giving this oneshot a read, and let me know what you guys think!