Here's chapter two! I know the last chapter wasn't very exciting. No romance or action to be seen. Well, the plot is thickening, though it's not exactly pudding yet.*homer drool* Mmmm......pudding.... *eyes glaze over* This fic won't stay PG and angsty forever. I promise!
Please review this chapter. Ya don't have to tell me how great it is or anything, but some response would be appreciated and incentive to write some more happy chappies.
Hyrule is mine! I created it! I own the rights to Zelda!! In your face, Shigeru Miyamoto!.... sh'yeah right. -.-;
Chapter 2
Blood and Rubies
The River of Time continued to flow over the land of Hyrule. Agreements made on oiled parchments strained to hold back races from bloodshed. Or so Ganondorf insisted to his people. Six years had passed and his greed and ambition drove to him new heights of jealousy over all the good king Harkinian had. Dissatisfied with his kingdom of women and the desert, he went on campaigns. His magic soon rivaled and even exceeded that of Koume and Kotake, but even with such vast power he was not happy. He wanted the field and all it touched to be under his grasp. He did everything allowed by Gerudo law to boost his army's numbers.
The desert women knew in their hearts something was wrong, as he practically ordered them to mate like cattle, but they did not dare defy Ganondorf. Raids were commonplace now, and goods crowded the storerooms that had been empty for so long. The women wore bangles on their arms and ankles, and bound their breasts with stolen silk. Their contempt for the Hylians grew with Ganondorf's coaxing, as the Gerudo scowled at the humble appearance of the Hylian women in the marketplace. The Hylian men reveled in this new peace, as the desert amazons flocked to the marketplace looking for boyfriends like one might shop for a horse. They had no dowry and did not ask for love, but promised more primal things.
Ganondorf undertook a campaign to cross the vast and verdant plain of Hyrule, to visit the Great Deku Tree. The Gerudo wondered what was so special about a talking tree, but he promised them it would be revealed in time. He returned with treasures of the forest: Stout wood for fashioning arrow shafts and construction, fruits no Gerudo had ever feasted on before, herbs for healing and cooking, and many other things... But there was a quiet anger in the King, one nobody had any idea how to justify. He seemed...disappointed. Those who rode with him told of creatures that followed his every whim. Spiders had crawled from the forest to grovel at his feet and infested the tree at his order, they said.
Sahjeko was still a mere child, and as one, she spent most of her life deep inside the fortress which had been carved into the plateau. Men made visits to the fortress to see the Gerudo that had captured their hearts, but children were not allowed to see any males save for the king.
It was pleasantly cool in the conference room and well lit by oil torches. Koume and Kotake would sometimes make their way down and tell stories of great kings and warriors, or entertain them with the harmless tricks their magic granted them as they were doing tonight in the borrowed room for storytelling. A beetle conjured of ice would crawl across bare toes and cause giggles, or tiny dancers of flame would twirl on the floor. Golden eyes reflected the flames...but in the corner, straining to see over the heads of the others, was a pair of blue eyes.
"Move," a soft voice whispered, "I wanna see..."
The words fell on deaf ears as the ballerina of embers enchanted them with its grace.
Again, "Qatar, I wanna see!" Sahjeko tried to peer over the shoulder of the Gerudo in front of her.
The little girl finally did move, standing on her knees, so all the azure-haired Gerudo was given was a view of her back.
Sahjeko sat in silence, staring at the back of Qatar's head which was bedecked with ornate braids of orange hair, lovingly done by one of her friends. The treatment was not new to her, but now came the realization that it would never change.
The little girls clapped in approval of Koume's flare dancer, liking it over the ice beetle Kotake had conjured for them, and they giggled high and shrill as the two began to squabble for favoritism.
Qatar had heard the rumors all her life. The sickly one was a prophecy that the Gerudo were becoming weak and something about the blood of Ganondorf was corrupted, when it should have been pure. The last part confused the child, for she was never meant to hear the talk of the adults, but she told her friends anyway. They all agreed that Sahjeko was weak, and probably was 'corrupted', whatever that meant.
She turned around, her own golden eyes widening to find Sahjeko so close. Her proximity wasn't what frightened her though; it was her eyes: Cerulean pools of coldness, glittering with icy contempt. Qatar blinked and quickly filed out of the chamber with her friends, like she had never witnessed the hatred in the blue Gerudo's eyes.
Sahjeko had tasted the fear rolling off Qatar, and it had satisfied that void in her heart ever so slightly, to know she had caused even momentary discomfort. As she joined the end of the line to shuffle out of the conference chamber, Koume called out to her, a harsh screech: "SahjeKO!"
She tried not to wince. "Yes, Exalted Koume?" Sahjeko knelt in front of her, basking in the warmth that radiated from the flaming broomstick Koume now hovered on. Kotake was already gone...
"Mandrag Ganondorf wishes to see you. Put on something worthy of his sight and go to the throne room," she barked, pointing a shriveled green finger complete with obsidian claw towards the other exit.
Sahjeko nodded and stood up, running in the direction the fire witch had indicated. She sprinted down the dimly lit halls that held so many sleeping children younger than her, her bare feet pattering yet soft. Turning left, she made the run again, until she came to the doorway at the end of the hall, nearly smacking into the wall before she stopped.
She parted the curtain of wooden beads and rope and sparked life to her bedside candle with two handy pieces of flint. With it, she lit the brazier in the corner of her barren little room, and the embers in the metal box began to flicker and flame brightly. She wasted just a moment staring at her empty room, where she slept by herself on a pallet of silks and cushions. A privilege, they had said.
The threat of tears was diverted with the task of finding something to wear. Most Gerudo children were given just a few loincloths and some oversized tunics made of soft linen and kept a natural, un-dyed color. Sometimes they were tinted pink or adorned with designs on the hem. Sahjeko's tunics were all stained blue, but she also had clothing made of silk and satin in sapphire, scarlet, tangerine-orange and viridian. She opened the gilded chest that contained it all, and the colors jumped at her. She chose the tiny pair of poofed pants and their matching top, both the color of polished rubies. Gold lined every hem on the top, showing her porcelain torso, and made a wide sash for the pants, holding them to Sahjeko's nonexistant hips. Red was the color Ganondorf's prized thieves wore, and she ran to the throne room dreaming of the approval and attention she was about to get, even if it came from him.
Ganondorf sat on his throne, high and mighty, sipping wine from an emerald-studded silver chalice. Two Gerudo flanked the throne, fanning him with fans made of colorful bird plumage. Several more lined the walls on either side of the long, narrow room, holding their double scimitars at the ready against some unseen threat. Incense perfumed the air and torches hovered over the space between every bodyguard.
Sahjeko walked bravely down the long carpet, feeling the plush velveteen on her naked heels. She strode forward with a look of confidence, despite her true apprehension at all of the scowling women and their sharp, sharp weapons. She got on her knees in front of her titan of a father, bowing until her bangs met the floor.
"Sit with me, Sahjeko," Ganondorf ordered, waving the guards and even his fan-girls away while his frail offspring stood and crawled to sit atop his knees, facing him. He smiled, perhaps meaning it to seem loving, but it was the kind of smile cats gave cornered mice before they mauled them to death all in the name of amusement. His massive hand stroked down her hair, as blue as the sky and contrasting against the putrid green-tone of his flesh. "You chose your garment well, Sahjeko... Red is the color of blood and rubies. It is a very good choice for any Gerudo," He used his index finger to lift her chin up, to make her face him, "but it does not become you."
Because I am not Gerudo, she thought bitterly.