The room smelled of vanilla, saffron, and patchouli. Exotic spices permeated the air and clung to Zelda's skin as the guardsmen moved aside, perfectly abreast along the walls. Sphinxes flanked the door way and gleamed in the sunlight that streamed from iridescent stained glass windows. Grand pillars made of robust golds and coppers were symmetrically spaced along the central isle way, towering high above her head into an endless expanse of ceiling, all acutely structured to magnify the ornate path leading to an equally ornate throne. And magnify it did.
Zelda steeled her gaze as the man in a black silk cloak and surcoat of crimson satin came into view and the song of the servant's introduction rang out. A dragon with fire protruding from its snout had been worked into his breast silk with navy thread. Zelda recognized the sigil. It wasn't until the voice was nothing more than a fading echo in the great manse that a smirk graced the man's lips.
"My dearest Princess Zelda, it has been far too long. You look simply exquisite as always."
She pursed her lips into a thin line, ever so consciously aware of the tone of her voice, "I thank you for your compliments, Lord Algernon, but surely that is not the sole reason you called upon my voyage across the entire realm and the Black Sea."
The corners of his mouth grew in size and he stood from his throne, his cloak trailing behind him. "Ah, and as clever-tongued as ever. I wouldn't have it any other way." She watched with folded hands as he descended the steps from his plinth and approached her. He smelled of myrrh and sweet lemon. A scent she had long since forgotten and longed to forget again.
He bore the long dark hair of the Carthalion race, neatly tied into an oiled braid down his back, complete with broad shoulders and muscled arms but he did not tower like many of his fellow brothers. Desmond was leaner than most but it did not mean he was to be trifled with, any fool who dared to question that fact would be quickly taught their place. Zelda knew this. His father had been the same.
His sharp eyes betrayed nothing except for the glimmer of golden hues as rich as the palace he resided in, hidden within them was a wealth of ill forgotten memories and rash audacity that Zelda could see through even after all this time.
Yes. After all this time, he still looked upon her as if she were his.
"There really is no need for the formalities, however, my sweet friend. There was once a time when you referred to me as Desmond, or have we forgotten such ancient history?" He took her hand in his own and bowed his head, delicately pressing his lips to her knuckles.
Zelda masked a smile as he met her eyes once more, yet he did not let go. Instead he spoke again, "Come, let us reacquaint ourselves in a much more comfortable setting," then leaned closer to her ear, his voice just above a whisper, "And secluded from our plethora of nosey onlookers." He gave a nod towards the ensemble of Carthalion guards along the walls and Hylian knights awaiting at the entrance.
A sudden shiver tremored through her body like a tidal wave of pimpled gooseflesh and she prayed that Desmond hadn't noticed. She sought out Wolfric's eyes but couldn't locate him amongst the sea of gold and metal. Instead, she caught the gaze of a couple of guardsmen who stepped forth with apprehension. She silently shook her head, dismissing them before a scene was caused and their travels had all been for naught. Then she was whisked away by her hand and behind another set of closed brass doors.
With a click, the entrance to the room latched shut and Zelda found herself in a familiar space that spurred unfavorable memories from younger days. The drawing room, or otherwise known as the room where her father would go to disappear— lost in heated arguments with King Xelfar while Zelda was locked outside in the courtyard with Desmond. A futile attempt to bond as children, Desmond's idea of fun was plucking limbs from whatever creature he could get his grubby hands on while Zelda huddled near the fountain praying for a reprieve. She shuddered at the memories and turned away from his silken cloak, staring out of the grand windows that displayed the vastness of golden sands that stretched for as long as the Black Sea itself until the end of the realm. The room was quite empty save for the short cherry wood desk and matching pair of chairs. The desk housed small knick-knacks and collectibles, many that she remembered from her time in Carth as a child as they were miniature statues of important Carthalion figures. Two golden chess pieces, a king and queen, sat next to each other alongside a bottle of ink and unused parchments. She had no doubt they were authentic. Along the walls were the gold and red banners with the Carthalion insignia of the fierce dragon. Her father had always told her that the Carthalions were proud people much like their animal crest, strong and intense.
"Ah, much better." She felt his presence near her from behind and with it the vapors of sickeningly sweet smells. "I do prefer the comfort of privacy as opposed to a hundred watchful men, especially when it comes to the intimate matter of reacquainting with such a dear old friend. Wouldn't you agree, Zel?"
She swallowed hard and turned to him, a smile small painted on her thin lips. "Yes, Lord Algernon. I do agree."
Another smile that touched the crow's feet of his eyes. His skin bronzed and taut from the years' worth of sun exposure. An uncomfortable silence fell upon them and Desmond cleared his throat, backing away and extending a golden-rimmed chair from the conference desk. "Where are my manners? Please, do sit, make yourself comfortable." He waited for her to politely take the chair from him and acquaint herself before taking his seat across from her, his back towards the expanse of molten desert. The golden hues brought out his eyes and made them gleam with an ethereal glow.
"I was grievous sad to hear about the state of your kingdom, how have you been Zelda?"
She bristled at his words, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. So many errs in his statement that it made her blood boil like the burning sun. She knew what she wanted to say; what her pride told her to say. But her mind refrained. She watched as he absentmindedly began to finger the chess pieces as he stared at her.
"Considering— I have fared better," Zelda quipped, her voice tight, then in an effort to save what little face she and her kingdom had left she continued with her head high, "Yet, Hyrule continues to grow stronger with each passing day. Little by little, we shall regain what we had lost and more."
Desmond nodded, setting down the king only to pick up the queen and turn it around in his fingers. A lock of dark, silky hair fell out of the braid that he wore at the nape of his neck and hovered next to his pointed cheekbone.
"Yes, well, as I have always said, a truly prodigious kingdom is not born in a fortnight— or in your case, reborn." He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow as she felt the heat in her face flare once more with anger. He was testing her. For what reason? To what extent?
"Carth and Hyrule, the eastern and western superpowers feuding since the dawn of time over one measly title that proclaims ruler of the entire realm," he began again, musing as he moved the king next to the queen.
"That is no longer, Lord Algernon. We are now under the first alliance that amalgamated our two nations together," she frowned with uncertainty. The room was suddenly becoming quite warm, stifling even.
"Formed by our lord fathers," he finished, gazing up at her with igneous eyes. "Unfortunately, both are passed and could give less of a care what happens to this blasted realm."
"Yes, but the alliance still stands—"
"Hyrule," he started sharply, overriding her, "has fallen, and with it the spools and delicacies that it had to offer Carth. This alliance was erected for mutual benefits of both countries, but seeing as Hyrule no longer wields the right to proclaim the title 'superpower'," he said with laced venom that bit on the end of his words like the hiss of a snake, "well now, this alliance just seems simply foolish now doesn't it?" She watched as he casually knocked the queen over on its side, its clatter leaving a dull echo in the room that resounded with his harsh words.
She spoke carefully, her voice heavy with conviction yet labored with hesitance, "Are you insinuating a war, Lord Algernon?"
"I do wish that you would call me Desmond, Lord Algernon was my father," then he gave a small yet dramatic sigh. "No, my dear Zelda. It would be quite absurd to call it a war— the word siege is more fitting. In the state that your country is in, it would take no more than three sun's dawns before Hyrule would be completely usurped by Carth."
She swallowed, attempting to rid of the thick lump in her throat that was making it hard to breathe. His cruel admonition donned on her and the very real truth behind it. "Why?" It was all she could utter in quaking anger. Or was it fear?
He smiled then, a small cocksure smile that reminded her of Vinscent and that prophesied nothing good.
"Do not fret, we are dear sweet friends after all. I would never do such a thing unless provoked. I'm merely stating the facts of the current situation in which we stand," he stood from his chair and folded his hands behind his back, making his way towards the grand window. His silhouette was a stark contrast next to the bright yellow sands. "However, with our fathers no longer in power and Hyrule's most recent ill-fated circumstances, I'm afraid this alliance simply cannot continue."
The room fell silent with the heavy burden of his words. No alliance with Carth? Their generation had finally rid of the ongoing war between them and now…
She would go down in history as the queen who saved them only to ruin them.
"Unless… well, there perhaps might be one other alternative that may save your country just yet."
Zelda grew ridged, dreading his next words.
"We follow through with the engagement that you broke off in childish delirium so long ago, we combine our countries and reign as the one united superpower in all the realm. You will never have to worry about poverty again, and most importantly— you will be protected from any future incidents such as the Twilight War. After all, one peasant boy and a handful of broken soldiers cannot single-handedly protect their kingdom for the thousands of years to come, now can they?"
Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of Link. She did not like the way the words sounded in his mouth when he spoke of him. In fact, she did not like Desmond speaking of Link at all.
"That peasant boy is Hyrule's hero and lord commander of the Hylian army, you'd do well to watch your tongue," she spoke with vehemence then retracted. Per Link's request she made sure to include no mention of the boy in green who stepped forth when no other would in the proclamation that addressed the countries within their alliance about Hyrule's recent tragedy. Instead, the Twilight War was ended by the brave Hylian soldiers that gave their lives in battle and only Hyrule would know of the truth. Much to Zelda's dismay, it's what the hero wanted.
"How… how do you know of him?"
Desmond gave a slight chuckle, amused, "The whisperings of little birds, sweet friend. It should be no surprise to you by now how I know of anything."
She was tired of such chicanery. "You're a fool Desmond, this alliance has put an end to ten thousand years of bloodshed and you wish to nullify it? For what? For your inability to aid us in rebuilding our kingdom? For my refusal of your hand in marriage? All other countries in the alliance, Westeria, Flaghorn—"
"Are simpleminded kingdoms ruled by simpleminded royalty that was passed down to them by blood. There is a reason they fell beneath us. An adequate ruler knows when to assist and when to let the gods carry out justified fate. How do you think Hyrule was able to rank in juxtaposition with Carth? He turned around, facing her once more. "I'll give you a hint— it had nothing to do with the destiny of your goddesses."
She felt something inside her stir at his accusing words. A low growl erupted from her throat, "If you are insinuating that my father secured Hyrule's prosperity through means of deceitfulness and treachery, then you are wrong. That was your lord father if you take a care to remember correctly."
He smiled, a small wry upturn of the corners of his mouth, "You know, they speak of your wisdom even on this far side of the Black Sea and yet, for someone that is known to be so wise it's a pity how droll your ignorance can be."
The scrape of her chair along the polished wooden floors echoed loudly in the quiet room as Zelda abruptly stood to her feet, "I've had quite enough of these follies and your backhanded invectives. If this is all you have to offer me after a fortnight's journey across the realm then I shall be taking my leave." She spoke with wavering enmity, ready to break free at the slightest blunder.
"Not your lord father, my feisty princess, — your great lord grandfather."
She stared, her gaze hard and disbelieving.
Desmond began to pace the room, his folded hands remaining behind his cloak and a smug expression on his face. "Do you mean to tell me they don't teach you royals about the history of your own lineage? I am not here to preach to you, Zelda, and I apologize if I have upset you— that was not my intent. However, as soon-to-be queen of Hyrule, surely you must know of the creation of your western alliance with Flaghorn and Westeria."
"What… are you getting at Desmond?" she spoke slowly, hesitantly. "Of course I know how our alliance came to be. We are the western most continent of the world and we united in defense against your eastern counterpart just after the Great War, strength in numbers."
"And how right you are, just like a walking, talking manuscript. It's a misfortune that it's an altered copy." She watched as he assumed a sitting position on the top of the desk, his legs crossed and his hand folded in his lap. His golden eyes were level with her own. "All you said was true except that it wasn't until your great grandfather took the throne that Hyrule assumed its place as the power kingdom of the west."
"You're trying my patience, Desmond. You speak of things I already know and I do not appreciate you attempting to school me on the history of my own bloodline."
He smiled down at his hands, turning a particularly large bronzed ring around on his middle finger. "Alas, the steady climb to power through use of magicks and the divine golden supremacy they told you was merely a mask to hide the most unfavorable truths. It's quite astounding the feats that are accomplished with enchanted influences, a small wonder that a kingdom that was founded on them would learn to live by them, and all of its peoples." He caught her expression and laughed a short hearty chortle, "You Hylians think of yourselves so noble in comparison to Carth– the barbarians— yet you are the savages and don't even know it!"
She instinctively flinched backwards, nearly tripping over her chair at his outburst but held her ground. "You are beneath contempt in suggesting such a thing! How dare–"
"Your honorable grandfather decided upon this path for your people, not I. Your anger is displaced. He was the one who threatened your western friends, using them as stepping stones, pillaging their lands, and decimating their armies. All using the power of your divined Triforce and erased all memory of the act from the entire western world. It's a shame— the effects of abused magic."
Zelda stood nonplussed, shaking her head and frozen to the spot where she stood. "No…"
"Yes. A prime example as to why magicks should not be confined to one kingdom alone. Power feeds men on bottomless stomachs, never satisfying, until everything in their path is destroyed. But all power has its kinks, and if Flaghorn and Westeria were to realize such a treachery… well, I think you and I both know how that would end. Hyrule no longer has the upper hand and is heavily relying on its allies."
Her mind was racing faster than she could allow and she was having a difficult time in keeping up. She suddenly felt dirty, as if she would never be clean again. "You speak of lies, Desmond. How would you, a king of desert at the end of the realm know the truth behind Hyrule's rise to power over a hundred years ago if not I?"
"It really does sadden me when I realize how much your lord father kept from you, my sweet princess. It was my own grandfather who aided in the effort of usurping those countries, he helped your great grandfather in securing Hyrule's supremacy." He reached across the expanse of the desk and gestured to her, beckoning her closer but she didn't dare move. "You see, Zelda. We are not the bad guys here. Our fathers were not the first to create an alliance between us. Before you ask why a Hylian sought the help of a Carthalion lord, allow me to demonstrate."
She stared, unsure of what to do with herself. Should she flee? His words couldn't be true and she would be damned if she believed them. Hesitantly, she took a step backwards making way for the door but she was unable to remove her eyes away from his penetrating gaze. They seemed to glow brighter than they had before… almost inhuman like those of a beast. Sometimes Link got that look, but never like this. She swallowed and took another step. His extended arm wavered slightly and then she felt it— the invisible shackles that cuffed themselves around her hands, her ankles— she couldn't move. Zelda opened her mouth to let out a panicked scream for her guards that never came and she felt the tendrils of growing heat that started in the center of her body and blossomed throughout her veins like iron cement. She struggled internally but her actions were rendered futile. It was becoming difficult to breathe.
But that wasn't the most terrifying part. No. It was the way Desmond's eyes had become pure orange and as bright as the sun. She tried to look away but her body wouldn't permit it. The heat was suffocating and just as she felt as though she couldn't bare it any longer, she fell to the ground in a gasping heap.
She hadn't noticed the hand on her arm through her sputtering and it wasn't until it lifted her to her feet that she saw Desmond standing before her with a look of sadness touching his eyes. "I apologize, Zelda. I didn't realize the magic would react to you that way, it was only supposed to render you immobile."
"Get. Away from— me!" She coughed, clutching at her throat with one hand and shoving at him with the other. He let her go. She took labored breaths, desperate to regain control and stared at the man with golden eyes and long black hair. "What… what are you?"
He turned away from her again, seemingly unable to meet her gaze and settled with the expanse of the desert before him. "Carthalion. Just as you've always known. But what your father knew and what you do not is that my royal lineage has an ancient power flowing within us."
He paused then met her eyes once more. "The power of dragons."
"But dragons…"
"—Haven't existed for hundreds of thousands of years. I never said we were such, only that my royal bloodline carries a fraction of their power. It is said that the Carthalions were the protectors of such beasts, the only men to walk this realm that were able to control them. You Hylians are not the only beings to wield magicks like you thought you were. Frightening, isn't it? That sense of shared control."
All she could do was gape at him. He wasn't lying, he couldn't be. What she felt…
Why had her father hid this from her?
Why did Carth hide it in the first place?
"Why do you think your father arranged a marriage between us at such a young age? Sure, an alliance between our countries would be quite a feat in itself but to have dragon blood coursing through the future king or queen of Hyrule's veins? Dragon and Goddess-borne blood. Remarkable."
She narrowed her gaze. "What was in it for you and your father then? If your race is so grand and powerful, why bother with the Hylians?"
"Besides your astounding beauty?" he chuckled when she clenched her jaw in aggravation. "Your power. The enchanting Hylian magicks of course— and together, we'd be unstoppable. In turn, you and your people would remain protected— forever." He flashed her another smile and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of orange in his eyes, as searing as fire.
"Now then, about my proposition. The protection of your people and the unification of our kingdoms, or a crumbled alliance and the constant fear of war on your shoulders? What shall you do my dear princess?"
Vinscent Donnely hated heroes. He hated anyone that was given the title as such. He believed that the word hero was an over exaggerated term that willfully gave a single man all the credit for something good. The one hero he hated the most?
He watched from the shadows of the vestibule as Lord Commander Link sparred with his men on the training grounds. His boiled leather and ringmail had long been deserted in favor for his thin tunic in the late autumn heat. One last day before winter descended upon them. A melody of metal on metal filled the warm air and Vinscent wiped the back of his hand along his brow. He watched as the commander checked a blow then followed up with a clean sweep that knocked the soldier flat on his back.
Vinscent sneered under his breath. What a pompous, arrogant fool he was. Always showing off, flourishing his sword around and called it 'instructing'. Oh, how he yearned for the chance to be able to give him a good smack down once and for all— teach him his place as a peasant. He narrowed his eyes. He had to focus, this was no time to allow his emotions to get the better of him. He had a duty to preform, and he intended to finish it.
"That's it for today men, head back to barracks and polish your armor, then you're free of leave," the commander instructed. He sheathed his sword at the belt and gave Sir Arran a clap on the shoulder before retreating through the ground's entrance. Sir Arran, that was another scum of a man that he couldn't stand. His face twisted in disgust.
This was Vinscent's cue and he immediately gave haste a careful distance behind and always concealed by the shadows. The man had absurdly acute hearing, like that of a wolf, and he intended to steer clear of it.
The minister had been following the commander periodically ever since the princess left for Carth. He sent his watchful men to stand vigilant and keep tabs on the peasant boy. As of yet, they had next to nothing of importance. Sword practice by morning, instructing by midday, and night terrors by dusk. However, there had been one peculiar behavior that Vinscent had decided to witness for himself. Nearly every day before the commander retired for the evening, he disappeared into the forest that surrounded the east side of the castle. It wasn't until Vinscent began trailing him from the safety of the vestibule that he took notice of the small black stone in his hand that he fidgeted with like a mesmerizing obsession. The rock was almost always in his left satchel pocket and every time he had pulled it out, the next moment he would vanish behind the thickness of the trees.
Whatever it was, he intended on figuring out its great appeal.
Carefully, he maneuvered along the side of the curtain wall and waited for Link to pass under the portcullis before sliding around the corner. Bright sunlight streamed through the tall archways, yet it left dark obscurities in its crevices. He trailed behind until the commander took a sharp left into the narrow postern door under the barbican tower of the battlements. Deftly, he caught the wooden door with the toe of his boiled pigskin shoe before it could close shut and slipped into its shadows.
It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness yet as soon as they did he noticed that the footfalls had ceased. In a moment of realization that unfortunately arrived too late, he felt a gloved hand clamp down on his mouth and the cool edge of a blade at his throat.
"If I may be so bold, I'd say that you harbor a deep-seeded lust for me, Sir Donnelly. Watching my every move from my backside, tell me— did you enjoy the show?"
Vinscent gave a tight-lipped smirk under the pressure of the dirk at his throat and waited until the hand moved aside. "Careful, you know what they say about narcissistic lords. If the head grows too big for the crown… well then, they're no longer a lord now are they?" He grimaced as he felt the blade tighten and a forearm resume a position just under his chin, causing him to sputter slightly.
"Truth be told, I'm not too fond of crowns."
"Nor I of males. Now would you do me a kindness and please release my windpipe from your skinning knife?" he wheezed.
"One wrong move and I put this skinning knife to good use."
He felt the hands release him and the minister clutched his throat, attempting to regroup himself. He stumbled back a step until Link came into view. The commander towered above him by nearly an entire foot; height was never one of Vinscent's appealing qualities. His jaw was taut and his eyes were unimpressed but alert, watching his every move like the gaze of hawk on its prey. He swallowed. He missed the sanctuary of his shadows.
"Now, now. We're all friends here. Sometimes I think you forget that we play for the same side."
Vinscent watched warily as Link nonchalantly flipped the blade in his hand, catching it by the hilt each time. "Do we now, minister? Remind me again, which side is that?"
"The good one, of course, as opposed to evil. All things virtuous and just."
Another flip of the knife. Link began to pace around to the left side. "Good, evil, such loaded words. Who's really to say which is what?"
"We don't. Yet, the two cannot mix."
"No, they cannot. But one cannot exist without the other; two sides of the same coin. Just like light and shadow."
Vinscent's eyes never left the twirling blade as Link continued to take measured steps. "I never took you for a man of letters, commander."
"There's a great deal of things that you don't take me for, minister."
He felt the wind rush past his left ear before he heard the dull thunk of its impact on the wall behind him. Before Vinscent could open his mouth to reply, the blade had left Link's hand in one swift movement, narrowly missing the side of his head by the width of his ear. Vinscent hesitantly touched his cartilage and when he drew his finger back, there was thin line of scarlet.
"Allow me to make myself clear," Link spoke brusquely, taking one large stride so that he clearly towered above the smaller man, their chests nearly touching. He could feel his hot breath on his face. "I grow tired of your intrigues and if I so much as catch you within eyeshot of the battlements during my training regimen again, I will make sure to demonstrate the side of me that is truly evil. Think of me as a coin, Sir Vinscent Donnelly, and when you flip me, I assure you that you do not want to land on tails."
The commander stared him down with eyes that were afire then grabbed the hilt of the knife beside his head and stepped back, yanking it out of the wall. "Good day, minister." Then he was gone with a slam of the wooden door and Vinscent was once again left alone in his shadows. As soon as the darkness washed over him, he looked down at the hand that he had in his pocket and smiled.
"Oh yes, it will be a very good day."
For within it he produced the small black stone that the dear commander could never be without. It glowed in the dim room, even through the protection of the cloth that it was wrapped in.
"A very good day indeed."