Chapter 37
The winds howled against the side of the inn all night long, but Zelda slept soundly, too tired to notice their unnatural shrieking. "The Warrior" had been built solid and strong and there were no cracks or channels through which the storm could reach her. Snuggling deeper under the down covers of her bed, the princess wandered through many dreams, most to do with a country called Hyrule and the destiny which now ruled her life, but a confusing few involving a man called Demon.
Outside the surrounding walls, Kokariko Village slept as well, slowly being buried by the drifting snows. It was a small town, surrounding the square where Demon and Zelda had first entered, but larger than any other on the path through the mountains. Once, it had been the ancestral home of the Shiekahs, but the fires of civilization had long since consumned that ancient race and now only their few monuments remained to mark their passing.
To the West, Hyrule Field stretched out into the distance, an unbroken expanse of giant snow-drifts which spelled disaster for any traveller foolish enough to enter their labyrinth. But that had not stopped them, for here and there across the white lay tiny threads, twisting and turning their way through the treacherous snow. And from the air, they did indeed look like the tracks of Hylian travellers, for it would have taken a much closer examination to see the claw-prints which graced each toe, or even the alien shape of the prints themselves. Ganon's monsters were spreading, trickling back to their ancestral homes from which they'd been driven thousands of years before.
Farther still, the soaring parapets and towers of Hyrule Castle rose out of the blizzard like a breaching leviathan, taking in one last, gaping breath before plunging once more to the crushing depths of darkness. Up in the tallest tower one light still burned, and if one listened closely, the harsh voice of the King of Aratia could almost be heard, chanting his spells in an ancient tongue whose like had not been heard since the Time of Darkness itself. Power had the King been given, power beyond any in the circles of the world, save the Triforce wielders themselves, but even he could not divine the answer he was seeking. Where was the princess? The one whose blood could release the Master?
To the North, in the sprawling empire of Aratia, fires burned day and night and the cruel beginnings of a revolution spawned themselves in the blood-bathed sand of the arenas. Too long had the gladiators been forced to destroy themselves for the pleasure of their blood-thirsty fellows, too long had they fought each other in meaningless squabbles while the upper class threw away their lives. As one they awoke, to find that those who would have opposed them were gone, occupying Hyrule while their King raved in madness.
And somewhere, in the shadows of her prison, one small Kokiri girl cried herself to sleep on a hard-packed dirt floor, strands of green hair hanging dully over her tear-stained face.
But Zelda knew none of this. Curled up in her blankets, she was a tousled mound upon the sheets, secure in her small bubble of warmth. The world turned, on and on, and slowly the moon began to fall towards a new horizon. In the last, wavering moments of night, the light of a new day bloomed over Hyrule.
When the princess finally poked her nose out of her cocoon, the grey shine of the blizzard had brightened, signalling the arrival of dawn. Glorying in the feeling of the soft bed beneath her she stretched contentedly, before sitting up and pushing tenacious strands of hair from her face. And for the first time in months, it was an actual wall, not some tree or bush that met her eyes.
Zelda knew that the inn was desperately rough compared to the luxuries she had enjoyed as ruler of a kingdom, but after the unhabitable extremes of the blizzard, it was the Sacred Realm itself. It seemed like years since she had woken in a real room, away from the prying eyes of the outside world, alone. And yet, as her gaze was dragged to the shadowy form of Demon, she knew that she was not alone, would never be as long as his strange oath held true, and the thought provided more comfort than she thought it would have. She almost smiled at his dark form, stretched out in front of the only door as a lethal obstacle to any would-be assassin.
The muscular warrior was still asleep, but prior experience had taught the princess that his senses, even in slumber, were still more than a match for her own. Demon rested on a hair-trigger and would be awake, daggers in hand, at the slightest provocation. In retrospect, it was a wonder that she had even been able to sit up without rousing him, the trials of the previous day must have taken more of a toll on the man than she had thought.
As she pulled herself from the lingering effects of sleep, Zelda found herself studying the warrior's face with puzzled amazement. For once, the ravaged features of Demon were almost…peaceful, having lost the tight, hunted expression that always lingered there when he was awake. Without the burdens that forever shackled his soul, it was the face of a man who might have been, if things had been different. The lines were gone, and the eyes closed, blocking the portals of ice and fire behind. In fact, Zelda's heart chilled at the realization, it was the face of a man who had graced her bedroom wall for years. The face of the Hero of Time from her tapestry.
She had already known this, it was true, from well-founded suspicions and the glowing triangle that was imprinted on Demon's hand, but never before had the similarity between Hero and Demon been more…blatant. Zelda had drawn comfort from that tapestry for the extent for the extent of her rule and had even felt protected by the eternal gaze of the Hero of Time watching over her. As a girl, she had sat on her bed and day-dreamed of the great adventures they would have together, travelling across the great land of Hyrule. When the princess had cried over the death of her mother, seen her life turned upside-down by the responsibilities of a Queen, the smiling face of the Hero of Time had been there to sweep her away in his strong arms and tell her everything would be all right.
Zelda almost laughed at the irony of that memory, Demon was no knight in shining armour to carry her away into a blazing sunset. He was a murderer, an assassin, for Goddesses sake he had almost killed her! And yet…
She sighed quietly, looking down at the sleeping figure before her. In the last few days, she had seen more than just the insanity of a broken man. Other things had surfaced, broken shards of a man who might once--once in a past so long forgotten it was only distant memory—been a hero. And it was that person that Zelda knew she had to find, because without him Hyrule, and the world itself stood no chance.
Mulling over the thought, she shifted unconsciously and Demon's eyes snapped open, displaying the merciless blue orbs of his gaze. At once, the pain returned to his features and Zelda saw the tapestry melt away before her as lines and knowledge return to them. And as the warrior turned to face her, the princess found herself looking into the ravaged, shadow-ridden eyes of Demon, the confident, smiling gaze of the Hero only a distant memory.
The day was spent buying supplies from the shops around the square, and pulling information about the plight of Castle Town from the reluctant mouths of the tavern patrons. All sorts of wild rumours had found their way into Kokariko Village, spread on the wings of citizens fleeing the doomed capital. Of course, only a few had escaped the destruction of the city, but they tales they were telling of the Aratian monsters and that dark night were enough to chill even the most ignorant drunkard to the bone. According to the rumours, the impregnable Hyrule castle had fallen almost immediately to the invading forces, despite having been warned nearly a half-day before. If that was true, than Zelda could almost believe in the legions of demonic creatures that the survivors described.
At first the princess had been incredulous, hearing of the ancient monsters that any intelligent person had long-since dismissed as myth. Suppossedly even Darknuts, undead knights armoured so heavily that no weapon could penetrated it, had been sighted during the short siege. But as she recounted her own experiences fighting the phantom ghoul in the Great Forest, she began to grudgingly believe the wild tales. The Prophecies had said that with the turning of the Cycle came the unleashing of every evil that had ever been named and some that hadn't, under the dominion of the Shadow-King himself…Ganondorf. That's what Demon had called him, a strange name, but even stranger that Demon had known it.
The rumours were confused and contradictory, some said Castle Town had been razed completely to the ground and the castle too, but others claimed the fortress was still standing and most of the city as well. There were even those who said the King of Aratia was building a new capital for himself in the ruins of the old one, but these Zelda dismissed immediately as too far-fetched to be true. The King would not bother himself to rebuild the city, he had wanted to destroy Hyrule, and now he had his wish. Why would he want to preserve it?
To Zelda's disappointment, she discovered that Gabriel was still in charge of the remaining Hylians inside the city. It did not surprise her, for her former love had been promised the continued monarchy of Hyrule by the Aratians, but the princess had still held a private hope that maybe he would have been deposed during the take-over. It was at this thought that she ground her teeth in frustration, drawing a startled look from the man she had been questioning.
But that was hardly the worst news Zelda and Demon received during the course of the day, for the unnaturally long blizzard had blocked the mountain pass, stopping all traffic into Termina. She had interrogated the local guide long and hard about it, but finally the princess had to agree that there would be no way across the mountains until the snows melted. And that was assuming that the storm ever would end, which, judging from the supernatural forces that had coincided with its beginning, was not as likely as Zelda could have hoped.
She and Demon ate three meals in The Warrior's common room that day, and each time it was Kashi himself who served them, a surprising honour considering his position as owner of the inn. Each time, Zelda tried to strike up a conversation with him, but his terse, one-word answers quickly returned them to silence. The bear-like man seemed more interested in staring hard at Demon than talking, and his blatant fascination disturbed Zelda. There was something he wasn't telling, a secret that she desperately wanted to know.
The inn-keeper often came into the room to converse with other patrons, and Zelda could hardly help but study him from the corner of her eye each time he did. With everyone else but Demon Kashi was a jovial, outspoken man, quick to laugh and quicker to roar. In face, the barrel-chested man was extremely intimidating, but he didn't seem to use his physical advantage for any more than just that. Often, the princess could hear him yelling at some hapless servant, but he never resorted to violence and forgiveness always seemed to come within minutes.
Of course, once Zelda managed to rid herself of Demon's glowering presence behind her, telling him to go stand beside the door instead, the locals became much more open. In fact, they were positively friendly, despite a remarkable tendency to cast nervous glances over their shoulders in the direction of the entrance. If the state of her country had not hinged on some of the questions she was asking, Zelda might have burst out laughing.
The one bright spot in the whole day came after the mid-day meal when Demon pulled her back into the room they shared and pressed a leather wallet into her hands, which jingled tantalizingly when she shook it. "If the mountain pass is blocked," he had rasped, "Then you will need adequate clothing for our stay in this village." Zelda had nodded gratefully, thanking the Goddesses for the gift. She had nothing to wear but the ragged Shiekan garb she was dressed in, and the revealing nature of the snug body-suit had drawn more than one disapproving glance, and, to the princess's disgust, several approving ones.
Which was how she found herself walking into one of the many shops which encircled the village square. As she entered, the princess tried to lay aside all her burdens and responsibilities at the door and decided to enjoy herself at all costs. Never before, in the royal castle of Hyrule, had she ever been responsible for obtaining her own clothes, and there was an attraction in the idea that called to her. Across the way, Demon too had wandered into a shop, an armoury, with a clear of the storefront Zelda had entered in case he was needed.
The store held many pretty dresses, and time and time again Zelda would catch herself looking at them, even though she knew they were entirely unsuitable for scrabbling through the mountains as she would eventually have to do. Of course, none of them were so fair as the one she had worn in Kokiri Village in the forest, but something told her she was saving that one for a special occasion. What the occasion was, she could not guess, but it was important, and Zelda did not wish to jeopardize her quest in any way.
It was more than an hour later when she finally walked out, staggering under the load of packages, to find Demon waiting for her. He said nothing, but immediately lifted the heavy parcels out of Zelda's hands, leaving her to carry the now severely deflated wallet. She protested, of course, but it only seemed to make the black-cloaked warrior angry, so she let it drop.
Back in their room, it was a different matter.
"There was no need for you to carry them all." Zelda glared, facing Demon as he rose from setting the packages down on her bed. "I am not so weak that I could not carry them out of the store!" The mental picture of herself staggering home under the load made her waver for a second, but she did not back down.
"You are a princess." Demon answered, speaking in his usual monotone. "Such tasks are not yours to bear."
Zelda's eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment she lost control. Stalking angrily up to her protecter until they were almost touching, she glared up into his face and stuck a finger between his eyes.
"If you ever say that again." She hissed, "I promise I'll have you beheaded."
For a brief instant, Demon's eyes widened and it seemed to the princess that he almost…smiled. But then it was gone and a deep sadness lingered in the depths of his gaze.
"Agreed princess." He whispered. "But I will not have you suffering when I can prevent it."
Abruptly, Zelda realized how close her tirade had brought her to him, and backed a way, a light blush glowing in her cheeks. Embarrassment coursed through her entire body, shaming her with the memory of her little temper tantrum. Thank the Goddessess Demon did not seem to notice.
"Besides," and this time the princess was sure he was struggling to prevent himself from smiling. "I would not want to be…beheaded."
Zelda colored still further. "I am sorry, my temper still escapes me occasionally. That was uncalled for."
"You are forgiven." Demon was staring at some distance spot beyond the walls which enclosed them. "I too, know the dangers of anger." He started, realizing the dangerous subject he had touched on, and said no more, turning to the fire-place to light it. The blizzard had seemed to almost let up for the day, with only a light snowfall to mark its presence, but the room was still too cold to go without a fire.
The princess sighed and walked over to the packages piled upon her bed. Almost, it seemed, she had convinced her troubled companion to open up, but now the opportunity was gone. It was a victory of sorts, she decided finally in an attempt to put a positive spin on the situation, as Zelda was sure that he had smiled. She had never seen him smile before.
The fact that it was her little temper tantrum that had caused him to smile, almost made the princess blush anew. The "alliance" between her and Demon was still delicate, having been created less than a week before, and already she had endangered it. With any of the politicians she had to deal with back in the castle before Gabriel's betrayal, such a slip could have made a life enemy, but Demon seemed to have ignored it. Once again, Zelda was forced to admit that the muscular warrior was like no man she had ever met, partially insane or not.
On a sudden whim, she pulled on package from among the rest and ripped it open, before walking over to sit beside Demon. He was still hunched over the mantle, his eyes cold and hard as he stared into the sprouting flames inside. As the princess settled down beside him, he neither turned to acknowledge her presence nor spoke, instead concentrating on his task.
Finally, Zelda decided to break the awkward silence.
"When I was in the store," she started, tentatively shifting the box in her hands, "I bought this for you." She opened the parcel and held it out to him, waiting for Demon to take it. He didn't.
It was a midnight-black dress shirt, lined with velvet and thick enough to provide some protection from the cold. Tiny obsidian buttons lined the collar, and a flare of gold embroidery traced it's way down the shoulders to the end of each sleeve. It was one of the most expensive items the store had carried. In fact, the shop's owner had told the princess that it had been given to her by a passing noble, a gift for something or other she could not remember.
There was a short pause, before Demon managed words. "No." He rasped, refusing to accept the box from the princess. Abruptly, he stood and walked silently out the door, the crash as he closed it behind him the only sound he made. A gust of wind slammed into the side of the inn like a parting knell behind him, announcing the exit of Demon, and with him the foolish hope Zelda had entertained.
As she pulled the garment from the box in front of her, the princess felt a single tear slide down her face and leave an even darker spot on the black shirt. The fire burned hot in the mantle beside her, but the room was growing colder by the minute as the blizzard returned to the village with vengeance, its shill scream drowning out even the sound of the solid oak door in the inn's entrance slamming shut as Demon made his way into the embracing cold.