HIS HOLY BEASTLINESS
- two years before the events of Twilight Princess -
After the… incident, the rest of the ceremony was put off; the crown was now bent and dented, and her house's ruby was just… gone.
The culprit, a mere wolf to much surprise from the council—to much surprise from everyone—asserted that he wouldn't give out any information in regards to where he came from, or if he had accomplices. All they knew was that he had reason to oppose Princess Midna's coronation, but he refused to explain even that.
Contact was made with the Rural Lands, but the animal inhabitants that would speak with them didn't know where he came from. The most baffling thing about it all was the wolf's lack of animosity, since animals weren't known to lie about their emotions.
Last Midna had heard, the Council's decision on his sentence came down to lifetime incarceration or execution—they were still figuring out which to choose.
It was long past Sol-set. After fruitless attempts at sleep, Midna was an unkempt mess—perhaps not only in appearance but mentally, as well, for she found herself headed to the prison tower. Her hair wasn't tamed as it usually was in ponytail and clasp, instead worn wild and free, fiery curls cascading over her shoulders and back like lava; and she was casually indecent in only shadowy material and a skirt, the epitome of Twili impropriety without the royal shroud.
Those headdress and robes would have felt even more alien and heavy, now… now, when she didn't know just what was going to happen—much less whether or not she would ever actually officially be Twilight Princess.
When she arrived, the guards looked up from their wards. Those delicate brows of hers knitted together on her forehead, wrinkling with aggravation as she surveyed them. "If three's a crowd, then what do you suppose this is, hmm?"
"…Your Highness…?" one guard nervously ventured, and he was treated to a mirthlessly vicious smile for it. "Get out. I want a private audience with the cur."
A storm of boots pounded the floor, followed by harried, whispered apologies, and moments later, she was left alone in a room full of caged prisoners.
Link was already acquainted with his cell—an iron cage suspended over hot coals, in a room filled with air better suited for a desert. He hated confinement alone: all he could do was sit and think, stand and think, and lay down and think. The metal bars on one of four sides were laced with wispy black threads of magic, serving as a forcefield; the other three sides, the floor, and the ceiling were stone. On the inside, patterns similar to the ones on the doors of the palace were engraved.
Sol magic, present on Midna's body in the form of archaic tattoos, lit the etchings in Link's cell when she came near enough; and at first she merely picked up where they last left off, silently glaring daggers at him.
When words finally came, her voice carried a lilt of laughter, one that did not fit the bitter rage lacing through her voice. "What do you want?" was what she snapped out—the question that irritated her most. She continued before he could answer, taking consolation from flinging words at him. "What were you hoping to accomplish with that, idiot, trying to eat the crown? I'm insulted by how stupid my enemy is. Really, you might as well be a Light Dweller!"
Link panted and occasionally wetted his lips. He registered her words with a mix of curiosity and distraction, for he could not help feeling excited by the familiarity of an old friend. It was five years, after all. For him… Knowing Midna, he was not surprised that she came to interrogate him.
Instead of answering her question, he took the opportunity to give her some sound advice for the future—in case this mission failed. "If you find a temple in the desert, go around it... not through." He remembered that dungeon, speaking of the Arbiter's Grounds. They spent days getting through, chasing ghosts and navigating puzzles, and there was nothing in there that they needed. When they came out on the other side in the Mirror Chamber, they realized they could have easily gone around the outside.
Of course, what he said only served to bewilder her. They had several temples—some dedicated to the goddesses, some to their own spiritual deities, and others—but they had no deserts. She wondered if perhaps she was simply giving too much credit to a demented, loner wolf; maybe he had just been good up until now at keeping his lunacy to himself.
If that was true, then she was wasting her time talking to him… but he spoke again before she could respond with further questioning of his mental state—even as a part of her began to question her own.
"You know about the legend that tells of a hero from the World of Light. The Blue-eyed Beast," he asked, but it was not a question.
It seemed she would rather continue wasting her time, as instead of walking away, Midna stayed, scrutinizing him with a harsh eye.
Yes, of course she knew about the myth. All Twili wanted him to be real, but few stopped believing in him past childhood. Some, maybe more than she knew, would jump at the chance to return to the land of Hyrule. Just past the dark film of Twilight, at the precipitous edge of their realm, the hazy glare of the Light World sky could be seen.
She liked to think that most Twili did not yearn for it. The World of Light encouraged their sinful desires for more power, out in the arid bones of the desert; but here, they had achieved a sort of peace… they had adapted. It was their home. "Why? Are you going to tell me a silly little fairy tale I already know?" She settled her hands astride her hips, nails biting crescents along her navel.
"Or do you have ambition far disproportionate to reality—like most men I know—and claim yourself to be the Divine Beast simply because you have the lucky trait of blue eyes?" She tilted her head at him, a savage little grin on her face, which was wide enough to show her tapered fangs. "Well then, wolf boy, go on and change back into your Hylian form. Don't let little ol' me stop you!"
Maybe her aim was to provoke an honest answer from him, maybe she thought he was mentally ill, and maybe blue-eyed animals were more common than he hoped. Without her regal attire, he could picture her several feet shorter, her hair in a rogue ponytail behind a piece of the Fused Shadow, telling him that she would help him escape if only he obeyed her every command. That wide, mirthful grin was fresh in his mind.
It didn't merely betray, but screamed deceit, and that was the most frightening thing about Midna's smile—knowing that deceit should not be so obvious.
But he knew Midna, liked Midna—and after everything, he liked her smile. "I can't change back without the Master Sword," he answered with a tilt of his head and a slight frown. "We don't have a lot of time. Zant should be on the throne, not you. Whether you accept the crown or not, Zant is going to be the King of Twilight!" He needed to keep her attention. Somehow, he needed to damage her reputation. He tried to compensate for lying implicatively by giving her the literal truth, but it didn't alleviate his guilt; he was doing something he did not ever want to do.
Oh, Midna thought, she should have known that Zant had a few tricks up his elaborate sleeve. This trick was clever... while being utterly obtuse, much like the man himself: he got this… possibly deranged, but fanatical supporter of his to undermine her coronation.
She could tell the council that the wolf was following through with Zant's orders, but they would not believe her without proof. "Why would Zant, respectable, moral Zant, do such a thing?" they would ask, then dismiss her for holding an unreasonable grudge. It was easier to believe that this unhinged animal, rejected by even the Rural Lands, simply snapped at the ceremony.
That was brilliant, really, to find someone, a loner (even better), whose sanity was easily doubted. She hated him as much as she admired the tactic. The odds of her believing this whole "I'm the Divine Beast, let me out, I'll show you" rubbish were low. Surely even Zant did not believe her to be so gullible.
But then, they shared a fault—he, too, was arrogant.
"I can prove that I'm from the World of Light. Allow me to use the portal and I'll show you," he offered. If he committed another crime, and Midna was responsible for his release, this would all work. When Zant received the throne instead of Midna, Ganondorf would go to her—and then they would know where to find Ganondorf. She would even have his power, and they could use it against him.
For an insane wolf, the "Divine Beast" seemed to have a particularly good grasp on what was happening around him, and he was strangely calm. She was surprised when he spoke of the portal—much like the topic of the Light World was considered taboo, so was that. It was the door to their cage which they could only dream of escaping through.
"Say you really are the Divine Beast... Tell me, then," Midna eventually replied, expression a look of malicious delight as she humored him. "Why should I let you out of here, hm? Why is Zant going to be King, whether I accept the crown or not? And what do you mean by, 'we don't have a lot of time?' Does his Holy Beastliness have time-traveling powers, too?"
Link was surprised by Midna's mention of time travel. How did she know that he was in a hurry to find Ganondorf before the Temple of Time became inaccessible? Maybe there was more to the legends than she explained to him in the future. It was a reminder to be careful about what he told her, because he was not sure of what she already knew.
She was not so amused by all this any longer. It was one thing to lie, but another to bait her, as though he knew her personally—and that scared her, how he seemed to know exactly what to say, though she was not sure why. Maybe it was a fear that she was easy to figure out.
All but two other cells were empty. One inmate, Ecvira, was jailed for harming someone during attempted theft. "You won't get the answer you want out of him, scum," she interjected. "If your head wasn't so thick and airy, you wouldn't have to ask: 'Gee, why does someone not want me to be the ruler of Twilight? Could it be that they don't like... NO! That can't be it. What do you want, O Inferior Wolf?'"
"I won't tell you anything else until I'm sure that it can be kept a secret," he said, as Midna rolled her eyes magnificently at the female prisoner, "and that won't happen until I prove who I am, which… I think can only be done with the portal to the World of Light." He shook his head, his most prominent human mannerism yet. "You wouldn't leave me here, knowing that you could be endangering your people. I don't want to believe that!"
That was as much confidence as he truly had. Midna fled the Twili in the future, a reason to doubt her judgement in the present. But he had hope. "Do I look so dangerous that escorting me to the portal could be a risk? The only thing at stake is your reputation. I don't want to believe you're that vain!"
If she was in a better mood, Midna might have laughed again, but she was seething beneath the surface, anger a hair's width away from boiling over. She loathed him for being able to both surprise and sway her. Few laid claim to either ability. He had no proof for his claim—other than the kind that would require his being sprung from prison, of course—yet he was so convinced of himself. He stated that Zant was going to be king no matter what, as if it were fact, as if their lives were a book and he already skipped to the end while she had yet to finish the first chapter. He goaded her further—he called her vain.
She swore again to herself that she did not know him.
If she was going to be honest with herself, she truly felt intimidated, but she was even more livid. How dare he question her dedication to her people, when the best he could realistically hope for was an extra scrap of food? For a long, terrible moment, Midna stood outside his cage, radiating fury and power with sunset gaze alone… and then she heaved a harsh sigh, turned sharply on her heel, and strode wordlessly out of the dungeon without dignifying him with so much as a reply.
