Morning brought a crisp spring day to Hyrule, the air sweet with bloom and loud with applause. Once again the streets were paved with excitement and chatter as the crowds came about, hovering in anticipation for the day's grand events, celebrating the fourteenth year of their beloved Princess.
Cordoned off so that the public would stay safely at the sidelines, the cobblestone square of Castle Town and the main road leading north toward it were dominated by the steady march of soldiers, the echo of synchronized boots rolling off every wall to the proud sound of a drum roll. Banners hung with a welcoming sway over the streets, high in the gentle breeze as the sun beamed a smile on all those below, glinting upon armour. Streamers were sent dancing and coiling overhead as a spectacular military tattoo showed all the strength and nobility of their stations; at the helm of it all, the people cheered for the Goldies as they led the rest—those brave and brilliant men who brought hope and honor to Hyrulian forces, the Royally appointed few that all men of the blade aspired to be.
Each rode a valiant steed, flanked by the squires as they dutifully sounded the drums, soon followed by the soldiers. Waves of silver, spears held high and proud, marched on behind them, as further back the ranks descended; disciplined formations, not a step out of place and outfitted to the nines as they came out on show to lift the spirits of all those in attendance. Behind them still, the town guards escorted the main attraction…
The warriors, invited by the King, to participate in this illustrious tourney.
Each one different, with all shapes and sizes, yet sharing remarkable talent and renown among the people. Some were behemoths, smiling cockily and giving brutish gestures, others skinny slips of men, grinning with silent charm and to the shock of many, even a woman was a part of the strange brigade, waving to the children as she passed them—all were trotted out to the delight of Castle Town as the names of the favorites rang true upon the wind's breath.
After all, one of them would earn themselves a title here today, and hopes were high that the air of doubt since Talleday's murder would finally be laid to rest, clearing the dark clouds and allowing the sun to shine upon brave new blood.
Finally, these combatants were led into the square, the many soldiers ahead taking up positions as they rounded the grand fountain. A line of gold turned to stand at attention, and all others dressed in silver attire came to form neat squares either side, framing the place where the participants would stand. As all stood upon the cobblestone, the sound of trumpets blazing filled the town above the people's roar, a regal sight sending shocks of fervor and morale to all those below; high above them on a wooden dais, held aloft from the world by fine sweeps of purple fabric with the royal crest emblazoned for all to see, was their King.
He himself sat upon the apex of a makeshift throne, crafted with care and luxury, to match his attire—brilliant reds, golden threads and velvet patterns whispered about a fur lined doublet, graced with all manner of fine jewelry befitting his station, not the least of which a crown coveted by many and the signet ring of Hyrule.
Zelda stood faithfully at his side with her attendant behind, and the council overlooking the balustrade beyond them with expectant and weathered faces, a chosen few of nobility dotted between. The Princess' calm crystalline gaze drifted over so many faces she didn't know, with distant interest, people watching with satin gloved hands clasped idle. She, like her father, was dressed in finery; silken embroidery swept across the modest neckline of a white dress, lace and material fanning out from her waist to cascade down in a fragile waterfall of glittering splendor, a large bow at the small of her back. Set at the junction of her collarbone, however, was the pendant gift she refused to take off, even against the advisory of those who thought a necklace matching the dazzling sapphire glint of her earrings would be better suited instead.
Though Zelda was a gorgeous sight to behold in such flattering and quality wear, her distaste for it hadn't been hidden that morning when she was dressed—A handmaiden had been reduced to tears among other things, such as scathing comments about the bow making her appear more like a wind up doll… but thankfully, none of that was evident now that she stood in view of the world, smiling softly.
Like always, the disguised Gerudo stood close by and wore the Shiekan garb, ever faithful to his act; he had quickly turned down any offers to be suited up more appropriately for the occasion. Clad in the skin tight outfit, he dwarfed even the largest of the tourney warriors, rippling musculature intimidating enough to cause nervous questions about whether he was to participate also. At the small of his back, in contrast to Zelda's bow, sat sheathed the dangerous smile of a small blade, crafted to Shiekah design. Unlike his ward, who hid her internal dislike of the affair rather well, scowling crimson eyes scanned those pitifully gathered with harsh scrutiny and an obvious superiority, tainted with boredom.
But, despite these minor setbacks to the jovial and ostentatious atmosphere, the day would not be spoilt by the moods of the few. Crowds burst with cries of glory and loyalty, as the even the distant sight of their sovereigns, and those of Royal acclaim, sent spirits soaring high, let alone when the parade assembled beneath was met with the standing attention of their King.
Raising his hands in a gesture of good will towards all, a well articulated and regal tone boomed clearly across the distance, reaching even the furthest ears.
"Citizens of this noble land, and indeed, this proud town," He started, drawing further cheers in agreement and flattery, "I welcome you all on this finest of days to join in the celebration of my daughter's birthday, and the acknowledgement of Hyrule's finest, assembled in her honor!"
At this, a fleeting and private look was exchanged between the Princess and her attendant, as if to suggest that Hyrule's finest did not live up to expectation.
Still, his Majesty continued with a broad smile. "Today, under the grace of our Goddesses; upon Din's lands, by the breath of Farore's winds and beneath Nayru's brilliant skies, we give welcome to these fine men, gifted all, to take up arms in contest for a place in my family's service and the opportunity to win the Princess' favor!"
He paused briefly, kind blue eyes turning toward the girl before returning to his address. "A fine young woman she becomes, growing more like her mother each passing day. A treasure to be protected, like this great land, and all those within her care! Which of you might stand to this call, to guard Hyrule and her people, serve her Princess and King, with the duty and honor required of the Royal Guard?" He challenged, as a cacophonous roar escaped the town, by countrymen, soldiers and warriors alike, to roll across the green fields as an answer.
Zelda's ears twitched as she flinched against the sound, gathering up her courage as she stepped to stand beside her father, delicate features set in the picture of youthful elegance. Holding her chin high as the din settled some, all eyes turning to her with devotion and expectancy, her father's hand rested upon her shoulder as she struggled to match his voice.
"My father has overseen the gathering of so many hopeful men on this day." She called out brazenly, speaking with a voice she barely recognized as her own. "I commend you all, in such deeds that have allowed you to be called forth to this, my tourney of Hyrule's champions. I bid you my blessings, wishing well to all those who would stand to serve this country and its peoples; though only one man may stand the victor today, it is my hope that you all continue to protect and fight for the freedoms, rights, and contentment of all those under the banner of the Goddesses' care… for you all are men of valor and strength, the Sons of Hyrule who carry her burdens upon their shoulders and the hopes of her people with them!"
No sooner had the words left her mouth, was Zelda met with a cheer of her own—the smiling faces of the crowds, anticipation and allegiance sparkling in their many eyes. It unnerved her, in a strange way, that such vast amounts of varied people placed such faith in something so trivial as her voice among them. The hardy Gorons, the swift Zora, the mixture and diversity of her own, the Hylians… all of them would bow before her, even as a child that had done nothing but shun her status. She was no different than them, really; she felt no better, no worse. Were they not simply people, as she was? Why was it that her title held her so far above them, far higher than this wooden platform could ever hope to?
But the response was undeniable—Not yet their leader, the young Princess was gifted with the same reverence as her father, if not more. Treasured and beloved, with her smile came the nation's; she was their heart, holding their hopes and fears. Not these men gathered before them all nor the soldiers or guards… Not even the favored 'Goldies', with all the encouraging tales accompanying them, could match that. A fact that worried her more than it should have.
A loud and enthusiastic laugh left the King's lips as he gestured wide, chains of gold rattling as his cape swung behind. "With my permission and my daughters blessing, I leave it to my subjects to decide who among you will become our champion! To the field, men, to let begin the preliminary rounds begin!"
With fanfare, the tourney fighters were to retrace their proud steps to the screams of newly acquired admirers. The King and his men followed soon behind, waving amongst the people from atop regal stallions; Zelda followed her father's lead, hollow as the Shiekah walked beside her horse, leading it along. Confetti fluttered in the breeze, getting caught in their hair and settling on their clothes, though none of the festivity would brighten the secretive pair. This tourney and all the fuss surrounding it, with several smaller celebrations to follow, stole from them both precious little time in which they could work toward their futures together.
Outside the southern gates, the field was littered with tents and servants, scurrying about as the final touches were set near the arena; a fifty square foot area made up of freshly packed soil, flat and ready for the footwork of the fighters, encircled by ropes. Wooden structures surrounded three sides, seeking to house the spectators, while an almost identical dais to the one in town stood ringside for Royal attendance. Several small crowds had already flocked, preparing food and stalls in order to make tidy profit from the day's affairs. People seemed to pour out of the town, gathering quickly as the excitement refused to settle—so long it seemed since the last tourney of caliber, many were out for blood, others, simply a boost in morale or good entertainment.
Within one tent, where the warriors made preparations—practicing katas, sharpening their weapons, readying their armour—a young man simply sat, watching them with sharp, hardened eyes. He remained silent, never uttering a word, even as the crowd favorite preened nearby; fixing his red hair in a mirror and boisterously gloating to the servants and other competitors. For a short while, the boy went largely unnoticed, but as the warriors congregated to size up the others and get acquainted, his presence began to draw strange looks and curious whispers.
Unlike the others, this young man—the youngest competitor it seemed, looking to be in his mid teens or so—was not outfitted with armour. His clothes were not impressive or striking, lacking anything that would allow him to stand out from a citizen crowd; a white cotton shirt, sleeveless with a low collar, his hands and wrists bound with cheap leather to match tattered boots and dark brown baggy pants, reddened with dust. His sword was old and worn, as was his shield, looking to belong to his family as an heirloom rather than something practical to use in combat. Around his waist was wrapped a large rag, hanging down around his thighs at the back, and serving as the only hint to his origins—upon it was stitched the blue markings of a ranching family.
And it was this tiny detail that drew attention from the others, puzzled as to what place a ranch hand might have amongst Hyrule's unsigned elite.
After some prompting by the others, the lone female sidled up to him, sitting down with a masculine slump to rest her elbows upon knee guards and send the boy a lazy smile.
"Hey, how're you doing? Have you heard who you'll be fighting in the prelims yet?" She drawled, dark eyes sweeping his profile with a cold look though her voice seemed friendly.
The boy sat still, as if he hadn't heard her at all. After a moment, his eyes shifted sideways to glance at her through blonde bangs, taking in her appearance briefly.
Thick, grey woolen skivvy under a decorative metal corset; she's from the mountains, dressed for the snow. She'd be hardy, with a good tolerance for pain; probably has near to perfect vision from scouting in the blizzards…good upper body strength, though weaker legs, seeing how thin they are. Agile. Probably right handed, by the abrasion on her left sleeve—leather backing? Likely, she makes use of a rapier or a short sword and light shield combo. Light armour, if any more is used… not in the prelims, though.
As this habitual assessment ran through his mind, it never occurred to him that he hadn't answered her.
The woman's cold demeanor grew hostile, as her chin jutted forward to aid her glare, two obsidian locks falling forward from her shoulders as she snapped at him. "Oi! I am talking to you, yeah! What, are you deaf?" She hissed, her brow, bereft of hair, furrowed toward him indignantly.
…Quick to anger, too, he thought, his assessment complete.
Just as she was drew another breath, ready to yell at him for being so rude, a quiet and calm voice cut her off.
"No. I don't know who I'm fighting… But if it's you, I won't be having any difficulty."
A look of surprise flashed across her face, but rather than growing more agitated, the strange woman simply smirked, poking the boy's arm. "Oh, so you do speak. Well, that's some pretty big talk for a little guy like you, yeah? How old are you anyway, kid? Aren't you a bit young for a tourney?"
Turning his head to look at her, he seemed to regain some semblance of normality, a light smile appearing on his handsome face. "…You'd be surprised by how many things I'm supposedly too young to do." He grinned then, a friendly warmth coming to his eyes.
A sly chuckle escaped her as she held out a braced arm, intent on a firm handshake. "Well, I'll warn you now, I won't go easy on you just because you're a kid. The name's Ashei."
After a moment's hesitation, his own leather bound hand rose to accept, a firm jerk satisfying the gesture. "Just the same as I wouldn't go easy on you for being a woman…" He teased, leaning back against the wall of the tent as he relaxed some. "…I'm Link."
Giving a curt nod, Ashei rolled her shoulders, peering across the tent and toward the vain, though sizable, red head. "Well, Little Link…" She sighed, shifting as she brought a water gourd to her lips. "Let's just hope you don't go up against him in the first round, yeah?"
Link, who had closed his eyes in his relaxed posture, arms resting behind his head, raised a brow without looking. "Who?"
"The idiot combing his hair, instead of warming up." She offered bluntly, taking a sip.
"Oh, him…" The boy mused, unimpressed. "If it's so obvious he's an idiot, why worry?" Slowly he cracked an eye open, catching a glance from the man in question. "Apparently, he's some big shot, but I never heard of him."
In truth, Link knew very well who the man was and what he was capable of, but decided it would be interesting to hear the same information from a more combat reliable source.
Ashei gave him a funny look, wrinkling her nose. "Me, I don't think I'd have much trouble tearing him a new one…" She scoffed, grimacing. "But for a fresh thing like you, he's not the ideal opponent. That's Badon Valenzuela."
Leaning in closer, the woman's volume lowered considerably. "He's a glory hound and a womanizer, but he's got a mean streak of luck. Bounty hunter, by trade… fancies himself a bit of a globetrotter, so there's a slew of tales to go with him."
"Oh, good, I do enjoy bedtime stories." Link grinned, giving her a sarcastic look.
Ashei rolled her eyes, poking him disapprovingly. "Don't get too overconfident. Out by the badlands past Lake Hylia, he managed to get himself lost after the bandits he was chasing down escaped. The idiot actually went after them without any supplies or back up… there's so many versions of the thing I've punched storytellers for opening their mouths at all."
A wily grin appeared on her thin lips then as she wrapped her arm around the boy, gesturing toward their subject. "But, whatever you hear, the fact remains. Somehow, the bastard took on the bloody desert, unprepared and alone. He went out on his horse, and he came back a week later, on foot, with a bag of gold and the head of the bandit leader, unscathed. Next thing, he's getting free mead at Telma's bar and regaling his 'brilliance' to anyone with ears." Giving his shoulder a light squeeze, she winked.
"So don't go underestimating him. He's either tougher than he looks, or as crooked as dinofos tail… And he's as sweet on the Princess as you can get without being thrown in the stocks, yeah? He's out to win this thing, and if he doesn't get what he's expecting… Just stay out of his way."
Though Link was trying to appear as green a fighter as he could to avoid complication, the twitch of his brow and the subtle curve to his mouth said otherwise. "…I'll remember that, thanks." He settled to staring off at the other competitors once again, when Ashei set the gourd beside him, patting it to suggest that he could have the rest.
As she stood, stretching, dark eyes shot down to him with a much more serious glint. "Before I get warmed up, there's just one more thing…" She started slowly, glancing around before continuing. "…It's just a rumour so far, but if you see 'The Wolf' in the listings… Well… Your dreams aside, kid, I wouldn't bother walking out to the ring. Badon's one thing, but even I'm twitchy about that guy appearing."
Lazy fingers rose to scratch at mussed blonde hair as Link silently took this in. With a sigh, he gave a nod, seemingly tired of talking. "…I'll see you after the preliminaries." Was all he offered, closing his eyes to block out the world again.
Taking the hint, Ashei left him be, though concluded to keep an eye on the poor lad. Well, if he's been invited…I guess he couldn't be all that useless, but still, a rancher? Best I stay close.
From that point, the day began to pass by swiftly, many men setting their aspirations aside as they were met by a better blade. The crowds grew more and more feverous with each passing battle, though only the preliminary bouts. Each of the victors returned to the tents, holding swords high as the respect of their peers followed the roar of the citizens. Ashei was quick to win her place, though remained ringside with the intent of seeing Link's fight—Something about that boy intrigued her, and her curiosity and perhaps even some concern for his welfare, prompted her to stay put. Thankfully, the bounty hunter known as The Wolf was not listed, and many a sigh of relief resulted; very few of the competitors had seen the man, elusive as he seemed to be, though he almost matched Badon in terms of infamy.
Finally, among the last of the preliminary matches as the draw was down to two slots out of sixteen open, Link's name was called to be paired against a man known for his goal of becoming a high ranking soldier. He was a local to Castle Town, and his familiarity made him a quick favorite among spectators over the Hylian farmer, who combat-wise was unheard of. Quite a few of the vendors in the stalls seemed to recognize the boy, through trade history, but none of them expected to see him as a combatant.
But, besides Ashei, one person recognized Link's name immediately as a warrior, and while the majority expected an unimpressive fight—Tanziel, with his strict training regimes, was an unfair match for some inexperienced hillbilly—Crimson eyes lit up in silent rage, knowing full well who the winner would be.
From his seat beside the Princess, Ganondorf stared out across the arena, glaring toward the tent with an expectant intensity enough to set the coarse material ablaze. His jaw tensed repeatedly as his mind reeled—Not only had the boy reappeared, he did so with sword in hand. How was this even possible? He had all but condemned the boy to a life of toil or poverty, obscure without a need for combat! What kind of sick joke was this before him now?
But damn the chances, for at the time, to kill the boy as he would simply have liked to would've given his rouse away, with all its potential; risk and convenience in equal balance, making it impossible to choose.
But then, he thought, the Gerudo's mind calming as his initial panic subsided, The boy doesn't know of my part in his uncle's death…In fact, he and the boy were hardly connected at all, while he was as a Shiekah. Let's just see how this pans out…There may be some use in him; he'll fight plenty enough for me to see how far he's come…It's not as if he's got that damned blade strapped to his back. No, the boy wasn't the Hero yet—wasn't a real threat yet—and that was workable.
A stifled yawn drew his gaze to the side, watching as Zelda swirled a glass of wine, obviously bored. Icy pink lips were pulled into a small grimace, and her posture had slowly waned over time to allow a slight slouch. Glancing down, Ganondorf noted how far gone she really was—her heels had been kicked off already. Leaning an elbow casually upon the wooden rest, he leaned closer to her, raising a brow.
"…You'd best not let your father catch onto that." He rumbled softly, subtly gesturing down to the forsaken footwear.
Zelda turned her head quickly, blonde ringlets bouncing as she was pulled from a distant reverie. "Hmm? Oh…" She blinked, considering this for a moment, before shrugging. "I don't think his eyes will leave the arena. I should be safe for now, thank you." As the whisper was passed between them, her lost smile appeared.
"I almost can't believe that, after beating each other to a pulp, he expects them all to attend a party. I mean honestly, I hope they brought a change of clothes, Goddesses know the medics down there will be too busy watching the fights to be treating wounds effectively." She snickered quietly.
A devilish sort of smirk lined the Gerudo's lips at that. "Perhaps that's a good thing," He whispered, watching the upstart fighter, Tanziel, waltz out into the ring with fanfare, confident, "Blood loss and fatigue coupled with wine makes for a very subdued crowd. The less we have to deal with them, the better… I don't doubt at least half will only make brief appearances before retiring early."
A haughty giggle escaped as the rim of her glass hovered at her lips. "Yes, I suppose they aren't really the types to go out of their way to mingle; class and social standing doesn't hold the same siren's call among warriors, does it?" Rolling her shoulder, Zelda's glass lost a sizable portion of its contents to a single swig. It almost seemed as if she was trying to douse her boredom, so that she might continue to give false smiles to the world.
Finally, Link stepped out from the shadowed sidelines, met by the awkward cheer of an unsure crowd, their applause slowly dying to be replaced by curious chatter, and even the odd laugh.
The Princess was among the first to find humor in the match up. Her amusement was met by a smug look, however, when her father turned her a grin. Finishing his own chalice, he set it down upon a side table, leering at the girl with mischief in his eyes. "I wouldn't be so quick to laugh, Dearest." He chuckled.
"You are joking…" Zelda peered down for a second look. "I mean, certainly, he looks fit for his age, but he's positively skinny compared to his opponent. He's not even wearing armour! …Is he some sort of stockman?" She blinked, scrunching her nose at her father. "What on earth possessed you to invite him? That's cruel, inviting such a young boy to take part. This better not be his first fighting experience, father…" she trailed off, taking a chastising sort of tone in warning.
The King laughed, waving his hand dismissively—Oh, how his daughter could entertain him; Such a loving heart, he thought, charmed. "No, no, my dear, of course not! He's far more experienced than he'd first seem. As I have said, these are Hyrule's finest, every one of them." A gentle smile returned to him as his eyes turned down toward the battlefield once more.
"He may be young, but youth has fortunately taken his side." The King leaned forward, interlacing his fingers before him. "I sent his invitation specifically, and admittedly, I am quite impressed by his tenacity and potential. Despite a bad name upon his family, he's made incredibly commendable strides in making amends for his uncle's crimes. Not only is he quickly becoming one of the finest bounty hunters and vigilante swordsmen in the land, but the lad is humble and generous, as well."
Zelda's eyes widened some as shock swept her countenance, the memories coming back all too quickly. "…Excuse me? Do you mean to tell me that boy is of the rancher's who murdered…? He was the boy Talleday threatened for messing up a milk order, isn't he?" She spat, affronted. "Father! What were you thinking? The whole family has been virtually condemned by the public as traitors!"
With a sigh, the King raised a hand to silence her. "I am aware of that, Zelda, though I am certain from his actions that the family does not share their late patriarch's views. From what I've heard of the lad, he single handedly kept Lon Lon ranch from going under, after that unfortunate business with Talleday, using the money he makes from putting away criminals to support his family as they rebuild their business. He's a fine young man, and a talent to be watched."
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Zelda seethed, glancing at Sheik for some sort of support. "Father, honestly, I cannot believe how short sighted you can seem, sometimes!" She sighed, crystalline gaze settled tiredly upon her glass. "I don't doubt that he is likely a decent person, despite the bad blood left to him, but others may not be so understanding…" She stressed, issuing her hand forward in a cutting motion.
"What if he were to win, by some chance? Do you really expect the people to be so accepting; a high ranking position being handed out to the son of a man hung for murder and treason? Think of the uproar! You haven't even run this past the council yet, have you?"
As Ganondorf merely sat in silence, amused though taking all of this in for future use, a somewhat guilty look crossed the King's features as he regarded his daughter carefully.
"I am capable of making these decisions with a great deal of foresight, Zelda. I can understand your concern, but as it stands, Lon Lon ranch is an integral part of our local agricultural industry, and has been for generations. To allow such a linchpin to fold could prove far more devastating than any uproar to be had over the poor lad, should he win." He offered gently, seeking to console her mood—he had no desire to spoil her birthday.
Patting her hand gently, he continued, softening with the look of disapproval his daughter wore. "I know facing these matters can prove difficult in an emotional sense… Talleday was irreplaceable, and a dear friend to us in his service. None of these competitors could ever take his place, and that is not what this tourney is for." He reassured, before picking up strength in his tone.
"But, while the shock of his passing took a heavy toll upon us all, perhaps the heaviest burden lies with the family of the convicted; suffering unfairly for a crime they did not commit. I sent the invite to Link because he has earned his place here, and even by competing, the lad is helping to lift the dark clouds that have been hanging around since that day… it's time we put it behind us to move on, and this could be just the thing."
"…I understand that, Father, I do…" She sighed, gradually giving in. "I just don't look forward to this if it should blow up in the face of my birthday… And even if he is a personal favorite of yours, I shan't be talking to him tonight if I can help it. Forgive me, but I'm still not entirely comfortable with his connections." Her hand was withdrawn from his at that, defensive as a grimace hid her frustration as best as it could. Not that you're listening to me.
"Yes, yes…" Waving his hand, he straightened, pulling out of Zelda's personal space and deciding not to press the matter of being a good host. A scurry from behind signaled a servant, refilling their glasses as the King took up his chalice to partake.
"Such a shame, really…Even with the good work he does, the boy is forced to work anonymously; goes by an animal moniker… The Wolf, if I'm not mistaken." He mused, blue eyes settling on their subject below as the match began. "Perhaps after this tourney, he can simply be known as he is, and regain the people's trust as he has mine… And soon, yours as well, I am sure."
He gave a soft smile, though it held a hint of finality to the matter. "Don't worry too much, Zelda… It's all in hand. Just enjoy the day."
Zelda begrudgingly settled to accept this, her rigid posture relaxing once more into the slump as she took to boredly swirling the wine glass again, not entirely fond of the fact that someone so close to Talleday's murder stood before them so easily. He was only innocent by the skin of his teeth, being that he was, by technicality, the cause of the Captain's death.
The crimson gaze of the disguised Gerudo beside her, however, retrained on the boy with intrigue—a promising idea had seeped its way forward from the most poisonous corner of his mind during their little interlude. He had already laid the groundwork for it, without realizing, as well. Judging by Zelda's still present distaste for anything related to the murder, and now seeing the King's old penchant for humility and good will flare up again in the most tempting of ways, Link would likely be the closest he could to the Royal family sans hero status in the next day or so. Such a sudden and torturously delicious opportunity would've been maddening to watch slip through his fingers—had he already slit the King's throat—and internally marveling at his own arsey luck throughout cruelty, Ganondorf found he already had at his disposal the perfect tools for carving away the thicket ahead.
But for now, the old fool is right, he thought passively, a feral glint in his eyes as they followed the boy below; Let us simply enjoy the day.
Red dust rolled around Link's boots as the two opponents stood facing each other down—though the match had started officially, neither combatant had made a move. Tanziel finally overcame his shock at facing off with a rancher enough, a pitying sort of smile given, to approach the young man. A head taller than Link, the pale and thinly toned would-be soldier lifted a gloved hand to pat the boy's head, chuckling.
"Aw, little fella… This isn't the junior division! You sure you're on the cards?" A pointed nose twitched as Link didn't move an inch, simply standing there without so much as drawing his sword. Tanziel blinked, raising a brow. He probably snuck in, friendly with the guards or something. "What? Have you got stage fright? Teh… Well, I'll go easy on you… how about we just make a bit of a show for the crowd instead, eh?"
Within an instant, the boy's head fell away from underneath Tanziel's hand as his body moved with startling speed. No sooner did a confused grunt leave the older man's throat did Link's bound palm hit the dirt, pivoting the rest of his body to bring a leg sweeping low. A gasp lined all sides of the arena as the crowd favorite's footing was demolished, sending him to thump the soil on his backside, stunned as a cloud of dust rose up around him.
As a shocked silence hung in the air, all eyes on the ring, Tanziel was left to blink as he regained his bearings with Link standing as if nothing had happened at all, right in the stance he had previously. Slowly, the boy's cold expression broke as a grin began to show through; his hand slowly rising to grip the hilt of his sword. "A show, huh?"
The crowd burst with a sudden laughter, viciously turning on Tanziel as fingers were pointed and the match seemed set to become a comedy act. The fallen man shook his head roughly, shorts curls of black hair whipping with the motion as the dust left it, a bitter scowl staining his face. Angry brown eyes, betraying indignity and humiliation, were lifted to glower at the blonde haired boy.
"You cocky little brat!" He spat furiously, scurrying to his feet with a red cloud billowing out around them. A short sword was drawn form its scabbard to be pointed in Link's direction, teeth bared to reveal a crooked row, twisted and gnarled from years of knocks to the jaw. It seemed the man often trained without a helmet, suggesting he could fight without a sword, and likely didn't have a habit of protecting his face unless in melee combat. With Link armed as well, chances were Tanziel only expected a sword fight.
As the intelligent gleam to the boy's blue gaze shimmered, calculating and preparing, the would-be soldier simply barked his challenge like a common mutt. "Come on then! See if you can make a shot like that when I'm ready for it, eh!" Tanziel cocked his head to spit at the dirt boorishly. "We'll see whose bloody laughing when I put you down on more than your arse, boy!"
Pointed ears moved subtly, paying attention to the tone in his opponent's voice rather than the words leaving careless lips. The hand that was readied upon the sword's grip loosened and fell to the side as Link's grin faded to be replaced by a neutral line.
Wait for sword strike from the left; dodge, then duck underneath to grab his arm— twist and disarm. Pivot, elbow strike to his jaw—dislocate and agitate old fracture. Right kick to the back of his knee. Right handed chop to the base of his neck; victory by knockout. Time…seven seconds.
"…Ladies first." He prompted calmly, knowing Tanziel would take the bait.
The events that took place then were very different from either side's perspective—to Tanziel, it consisted of a yell, outraged and released with the skill tempered swing of his sword. Strength coursed through his arm, fueling the strike that was expected to find its target without difficulty, to slash across the boy's chest and sending him recoiling back. Link would stumble and fall to the ground, to be pinned by his boot with the tip of his blade to the rancher's neck, victorious.
Then the crowd would cheer, and like his father and grandfather before him, Tanziel would take his place in a proud legacy of service to this fine land and its noble sovereignty. A bright and glorious career would see him finding a wife and raising boys of his own to follow in the family footsteps… This was the future that flashed before his eyes as his blade sliced through the air.
And it was this future that was shattered without mercy, in a quick succession of blows—without the aid of a sword—as Link's mind, easily and simply, assessed and acted upon the situation at hand.
The instant blue eyes had seen the ripple of tension in the would-be soldier's bicep, the boy had already won. Following his predictions flawlessly, Tanziel fell for the rise and swung, only to find that Link had already begun a maneuver to dodge. As a leather bound grip tightened around the man's wrist, suddenly the boy was out of range for the slash and on the other side of the arm. Within an instant, Link's other palm was firmly pressed to Tanziel's elbow, and as the man realized what had happened, two firm fingers had curled around his thumb to pry and manipulate. A sickening crack sounded as the sword fell away from limp fingers to clatter to the dirt, useless, the would-be soldier succumbing to the pain of an aikido grip.
The shock of discomfort and contortion emanating from the hand was all the distraction Link needed, as the grip was released to allow Tanziel only the briefest moment to wobble on his feet. Before even the thought of recovery had entered the man's mind, a sharp and firm strike to the side of his jaw sent him stumbling forward a few steps, ears ringing with dizzying intensity as Link pulled his elbow back. A disoriented mind did not even connect to the sensation of aching teeth and muscle before a vicious boot was embedded into the back of his knee, sending Tanziel to a crippled kneel as the blur of what was happening became too much to process.
All that remained then of the local man's aspirations were ripped from his grasp entirely, cut short by a forceful blow somewhere behind him as the ground seemed to rise up, eager to meet him, the world spinning into a silent black. He was out before his face met the ground.
Any comedy that was to be found previously was lost to the thick silence pervading the air, tense and disbelieving. Widened eyes simply stared on, mouths agape, as the ranch hand softened his stance to return to a comfortable and casual air. Link's gaze rose to sweep the spectators around, his face blank as they simply gawked.
…Why are they all staring at me like that? It's not that unexpected, is it? He thought, self consciously, Do I really look that pathetic…?
Suddenly uncomfortable, the boy shrugged unconsciously as his brows knitted together, his attention turning toward the mediator expectantly. The thin and elderly man seemed to snap out of his stupor under the sharp blue gaze, and with a noticeable twitch, fumbled to raise the small flag and signal that victory had been achieved.
Breaking the silence finally, the announcer shakily stepped forth, a bewildered grin on his pointy nosed face. "V-victory by knockout! Link advances! Next round… Turlin versus Amirello for the final placing!"
The shrill voice echoed lonely for a moment before the mystified hush shattered completely, replaced by a deafening roar that could be heard for miles around. Unlike the other competitors, the boy did not stay put to revel in applause, and had already begun a slow gait toward the sidelines after his win was confirmed.
Ashei quickly rushed to meet him, yelling above the noise to be heard, as congratulations—shocked as they might be—were in order. The female warrior was quick to drag Link away to a more suitable volume in which to question him thoroughly, and with his short debut over with, the following fighters would unfortunately be overshadowed; within seven seconds, the boy had already elevated himself to fame on par with Valenzuela—Which by opinion, seemed to be the only matching that now mattered at all.
Above, satin gloved hands gripped the wooden balustrade tightly, as the Princess had perched herself in a standing position to lean closer in awe. While her opinion on Link was certainly unchanged by this, and still she didn't look forward to the fallout if and when he won, she had to acknowledge his talent as a fighter now and agree with her father in terms of his potential. Despite the fact that she didn't wish to interact with the boy at the gala later, a greedy mirth shimmered in her crystalline eyes—A challenge. Oh, to be able to simply slink away, don her Shiekan garb and fight a worthy opponent to test how far she'd come… He hadn't even drawn his sword, and managed to end the battle mere moments; something that Zelda had not seen in anyone else besides her attendant and recently, herself.
Her disinterest in the tourney had mainly stemmed for the private fact that she now had the ability to beat most of the competitors easily. Perfect teeth grit themselves in frustration after seeing a possible match for her own skill.
Invite only, she recalled, tossing aside the impulse to join the tourney in disguise, and the risk of being discovered would be too high… Father wouldn't allow me to slip away, either…Damn it all! A sudden shock of temper prompted her to throw herself back into her seat with a poof of her dress, a sour look on her face as she silently glared at her father from the side. The King was still joined in the rest of the audience's amazement, giving a standing ovation in a point of smug pride and satisfied expectation, and didn't see the foul look turned to him.
Resolute, Zelda slowly allowed her delicate features to unwind themselves from her bitter thoughts, calming. Never mind for now… I will have my scrap with him eventually…Sheik will help me arrange it, I'm sure; I know him too well to spar effectively now, anyway, it's the next logical step that I have an opponent at my level, fresh.
At least something useful had come out of this day. Her arms folded over her budding chest with a slight sulk, disappointed that she would not see him fight again for a while yet.With her fingers rapping pensively upon the creamy flesh of her arms, Zelda remembered her attendant and sent him a sly glance, gauging his reaction to the boy, curious.
Crimson eyes were already upon her when she looked—again, he'd beaten her to the punch. He probably hadn't even watched the fight, instead, watching her and gleaning her thoughts from unguarded movements. He was so clever in that way, and now that she thought about it, he probably knew Link would win the moment he caught sight of him. Her lips pulled into a furtive smile, tilting her head slightly and lifting a thinly arched brow in silent question. His eyes narrowed momentarily, before his usual smirk returned. Zelda's gloved hand was waved nonchalantly, brushing hair over her shoulder to cover the way she leant close, whispering.
"I don't quite trust that boy, despite what father says… There was something oddly suspicious about the whole affair with Talleday; too cautious for it not to have been premeditated and executed with precision. Keep him away from me tonight, should he win…" She breathed lightly, only audible above the crowds for the proximity she held, breath warm against the Shiekah's ear. "…But, else wise, I want to fight him at some point. Can you make that happen?"
And the cherry on top, Zelda doesn't trust her own Hero, he laughed within his mind.
Ganondorf flashed her a charming grin, something devious swimming behind his irises. "I intend to keep you to myself as much as possible tonight, as with every other night." He purred, before pretending to consider her request. "…As for you fighting him… We'll see, but should that occur, it would be best if he didn't recognize you. I will test him first, myself—he won't see a real fight in this pathetic excuse for a tourney. If I deem it safe for you, then you can exchange blows."
A saccharine smile shone brightly as a spark of genuine happiness lit up her face, before the Princess returned to an acceptable posture, taking up her glass once more as the King finally sat.
"What did I tell you, Zelda? A fine young man; best in show, if I say so myself!" He laughed, slapping his thigh enthusiastically as the high of excitement still held him.
"Yes, Father, he is talented…" She conceded with a composed nod, a sly curve to her mouth. "But, it's early in the piece, yet. Let's not get ahead of ourselves… That Valenzuela is a fine man too, and he was your first pick."
The King chuckled sheepishly, rubbing his chin with a lopsided smile. "Ah, yes… That's a good point, Dearest, well made…" After a moment of thought, His Majesty simply snapped his fingers, ready to watch the next bout. "I suppose it will be a close call."
And, indeed, that was the general consensus when asked to pick the winner—Link and Badon would face off, and both had an equal chance in the public's eyes. But sitting above, silent and patient, Ganondorf and Zelda amused themselves as best they could, only breaking from their whispers to watch Link, whenever he appeared. The boy didn't falter and as the day drew on, the crowds, King, and even Zelda only grew more impressed. Each man who rose to meet him simply fell to the wayside, no matter how hard they'd trained or what reputation they had.
But as Link gained fans, unbeknownst to him, he had also made a very potent enemy. The disguised Gerudo, feeling the odd tingle of anxiety run down his spine with each victory, knew his hand was being forced—A little more time, and his window of opportunity would close, even with the plan in mind. Something had to be done about this before the ranch had its bad name lifted, or Ganondorf would find himself trapped in a waiting game once again. The King was already accepting of the boy, and willing to allow him proximity to their family—to Zelda; this talk of redemption, and letting treason not be reflected on Link… That was hardly something he expected after dealing with the Kings of old. He could only pull this off without suspicion as long as that attitude didn't spread, and despite how perfectly his plan had come together earlier based on Link's familiarity, he now realized that also meant he needed to act immediately.
Sparing a glance toward Zelda, something in the back of his mind shuddered in pity; he would steal from her the chance to test her skills, and her father in one hit… He would pay a heavy price for that in reigning in her emotions and keeping her on course over the next month or so. Especially with him crowned regent thereafter. Perhaps he could sidetrack her with something—He'd already wasted manipulating and diffusing her with sweet nothings and such last night, it wouldn't hold the same effect again. She was at a good point now to bounce back from the King's demise, but her frustrations at losing out on a potential rival as well could tip the scales; how far she had come combat wise was very important to her.
But, the King of Evil still plagued her, as always… the only reason she took her fighting so seriously was because she'd since come up with the notion that she may battle him. This demonic business, he had to reflect upon it heavily, though he didn't wish to. The very thought that an external force drove his desires unsettled him and he had avoided it since Zelda had put the point to him, yet it seemed this could be the key to giving her confidence, without having tested her skills practically. If he could give her a piece of information about the King of Evil's connections to this Demon, her analytical side may take over, prompting her to focus on future tactics rather than dwell on Link or her Father.
And behind all of that, he himself was curious, if not embittered and made unsure of himself by the discovery. He need to face the possibilities, sort through them and work with them, and perhaps give himself another edge he didn't know he had possessed.
So be it, He decided, his gaze lingering upon the girl's golden curls possessively, The King dies tonight.
A/N:
Oh, god, I hate Christmas. It's so busy, I wish I could just be a kid again and wait for presents, without any of the hassle.
Anyway, working loads, so I probably won't get the next chapter up for another two weeks or so. I haven't had a habit of proof reading my chapters lately because of being busy, but this one is especially unedited, so I'm sorry if I made any mistakes. I wrote this in six installments since the last chapter, heh.
As some of you may or may not pick up, Badon Valenzuela is homage to Groose in SS, I hinted at it with combing his hair, and Groose's Japanese name is Bado. I love Groose. So bad… He was hilarious, so I worked a descendant in or some such.
Valenzuela as his last name—and this is really nerdy of me—but Valenzuela was the name of a knight in one of Akira Himekawa's manga adaptations of the games. Extra points if anyone can tell me which one.
And Ashei… I dunno what she's doing in there, really, but I love Ashei, and now that she's here, what the hell, more TP cameos. Her place was going to be filled by an OC for later plot, but I added in Ashei, and actually, she fits the bill pretty nicely.
Also, I made Link a bit of a fighting genius, because after thinking about it, I find it really hard to believe a kid could just pick up a sword and embark on all those adventures with near instant skill without being one, at least a bit, you know? …Perhaps I over rationalize Zelda games, but hey, whatever. It's working.
So yeah. Part two of this chapter as soon as I can!