The Legend of Zelda: The Desert Rose
Author's Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own The Legend of Zelda or any of the established franchise characters. Talon and co. are the intellectual property of Nintendo and are not used by this author for any profit beyond his own personal – and sometimes twisted – amusement.
This story is rated PG-13 for romance, sexual themes/descriptions, language, violence, and thematic elements. There are adult themes at work here, and it may dip into the R rating occasionally, but there will be no NC-17/X material here. You have been warned.
Please note: This story is set approximately 10 years before the events depicted in Ocarina of Time. Some facts may have been skewed slightly, either as an acquiescence to realism, plot, or merely to suit the author's maniacal purposes. As always, please enjoy, and remember to read and review!
Chapter 1: Discriminating Tastes
Castle Town Market
-= Summer =-
10 years prior to Ocarina of Time
Peals of childish laughter echoed across the crowded courtyard, momentarily surfacing above the roaring din of merchants and shoppers before subsiding once more. The slightly off-key melody of a street musician's pipes was drowned out by the sharp whinnying of a mounted guardsman's steed as he rode past.
The guard's watchful eyes scanned the crowd as he slowly steered his way through the surging throngs, alert and ready for any trouble. Though any cutpurse worth his blade would never be caught out in broad daylight, the guard knew that certain kinds of people were more liable to turn to thievery, and it was those that he kept a watchful eye out for.
The two Gerudo women waited for the guard to pass before stepping out of the shadows between two shops.
Another greenlander city, another damp, stinking alley, Syrenne thought with a grimace as she deftly wove around the worse of the refuse.
"You'd think that these people would take more pride in their capitol," the older woman next to her commented, bending to examine her sandal. "I don't even want to know what I just stepped in."
"Then what, dear Sister, would you have to complain about?" Syrenne replied, earning her a playful flick across the curve of her ear.
She resumed her perch atop an old barley barrel and neatly crossed her legs lotus-style. The market of Castle Town was bustling today as usual, with merchants hocking their various wares from behind their wooden stalls. Beings from all corners of the kingdom mingled here, and their many various languages mixed and danced through the air, creating a cacophonous symphony that was oddly pleasing to listen to if you had the ears for it. The scents were just as varied; from where they sat, the earthy smell of a Goron bistro blended with the fine perfumes of a Labrynan spice merchant. A less pleasing odour was emanating from a box several feet behind them, possibly the home of a stray mongrel.
And beneath it all, the subtle scent of money changing hands, making many a merchant richer. Or, at least, a little less poor that they were before, after the Hylian King took his cut of the taxes.
"How about that one?" The older woman asked, pointing with a perfectly manicured finger as she resumed their earlier discussion.
Syrenne felt her nose wrinkle in disgust. "A little too ripe, I think."
They surveyed the market from their secluded alley for several minutes more, utilizing years of combined evaluating experience, before the older woman again gestured. "Mmm, that one looks tasty."
A sharp laugh as Syrenne caught sight of a plume of flamboyant color that would put a tropical parrot to shame. "And as bent as a split arrow. Try again."
"Just makes it more of a challenge," the older woman mused, more to herself than to the younger girl at her side, but let the matter drop as they continued scanning the stalls. "What about … that one?"
Syrenne sighed and took a sip from her water flask to try to mask the shudder that ran through her. 'Shopping,' as her companion had so eloquently put it, was not going well today. "No natural flesh in the world should be that color," she said.
The older woman blew an exasperated breath. "You'd think that with all of the rich merchants here that there would be at least something that would catch your eye."
"You'd think," Syrenne agreed, and left it at that.
They spoke in Geldo – the language of the Gerudo people – so as not to be understood by the throngs of shopping Hylians about them. She preferred the gentle vowels of her native language to the harsher, more guttural tones of modern Hylian anyway.
After all, Syrenne reflected, It wouldn't do to scare away the merchandise.
She sensed rather than saw her companion bring out her hand-mirror and lightly primp her hair. A sign of lost patience, yet Syrenne said nothing as they continued to scan the crowds.
Her gaze flicked over the courtyard and past the central fountain, following what her eyes had seen faster than her mind could process. A choice specimen had caught her eye; young and fit, with a builder's physique. He appeared lost, which as any good thief knows is the easiest mark, but before Syrenne could even drop from her barrel the man was quickly snatched up by a woman in a sundress that was at least two sizes too small, her ample bosom spilling out in a very unappealing manner.
Syrenne tsk'ed in disappointment and resettled herself on the barrel. It seemed like every time she even caught the barest glimpse of a real prize it was whisked out from under her fingers.
The elder Gerudo looked to her imploringly. "Syrenne, love, how are you ever going to lose your white if you won't make a choice?"
Syrenne slouched, once against feeling the shame of being the eldest by over a year to have her lips stained white. Once a cause of celebration "Lorena," she ground out, "I thought you said that you'd try to be more understanding about this?"
Lorena sighed, her shoulders drooping. "I'm trying, love, I really am. But how difficult is it to find a nice, young, fit male to impregnate you?"
Syrenne felt her face flush scarlet. "Lorena!"
"What?" the older woman replied, clicking her mirror shut and waving it dismissively, "I'm merely speaking the truth. There's no reason to have to hide behind flowery euphemisms."
"Maybe I prefer the flowers," Syrenne grumbled to herself.
"I just think it would do you some good to find a nice, handsome gentleman and... What was that colorful Hylian expression again?" Lorena said thoughtfully, pressing a playful finger to her crimson lips. "'Rut like wild horses?'"
Syrenne turned her sullen gaze back towards the courtyard. "I see no reason to describe it like … that ..."
She felt an arm curl around her shoulder and a soft breath caress her ear as Lorana gave her a reassuring squeeze. "I know you were old Kaede's favorite, Syrenne, but she really did you an injustice by filling your head with all those stories. She convinced you that your first time should be special and meaningful in some vague, existential way while never bothering to show you exactly what that was.
"But all it means is that you're just too damned picky. You're willfully missing out on all of the fun." Lorena brushed the pad of her thumb across Syrenne's ivory-stained lower lip, forcing their gazes to meet. "This is the final step to becoming a Sister. It's an honor to complete your ascension to full womanhood, and if you manage to bring back a daughter for the clan, then all the better."
Syrenne inhaled sharply as she felt Lorena's lips brush against the curve of her jaw, the older woman's voice lowering to a throaty whisper. "If you're feeling nervous, I could help you, if you'd like. Who better than your Shia'vai to help you finally wash the white from your lips? You're already irresistible as it stands. What male could possibly say no if the two of us invited him to bed?"
Syrenne closed her eyes and considered Lorena's words, ignoring the somersaults her stomach was performing. She had to admit that the offer did hold a certain allure. She'd been Lorena's Ohni'vai – her younger sister, or her pupil, for lack of a proper Hylian term – for nearly a year now. She trusted Lorena like no one else since Kaede had passed, and had even welcomed her into her bed on occasion.
But there was always a certain distance to their relationship, a coolness in Lorena's demeanor, something that she'd seen between many Gerudo women. They were intimate, but they would never be close.
On the other hand, Lorena was far more experienced in the arts of subterfuge and seduction, and Syrenne had been an eager student. She'd learned from Lorena the activities that old Kaede had long grown rusty in, and she was grateful for the knowledge she had acquired. Lorena was only three years her elder but had already given birth to her first child before they'd even been assigned to each other, though had had no others since. She couldn't have asked for a better Shia'vai.
Syrenne's eyes flicked open. "How is your daughter?"
"Yehva?" Lorena blinked, surprised by the sudden change of conversation. "She's well, I suppose. I haven't spoken with her instructor in weeks. Why?"
And therein lie the problem. Seyrenne thought.
When every woman in the clan was family, a small part of the greater whole, personal relationships were blurry and indistinct. Meaningless. While other Gerudo were watching the males of other races, Syrenne had been studying the women that walked with them. She'd seen feelings of affection born of such intensity that they rivaled the kind of reverence normally reserved for the Goddesses. Such utter devotion to another person was almost unheard of in Gerudo culture, rarely seen outside of twins or Dya'mou – women who preferred to keep the company of their own gender and found the idea of laying with males repulsive.
She sighed again. It was times like this that she most missed Babe Kaede's sarcastic wit, wishing she could simply turn her head and ask the old witch's council. Sometimes she found herself daydreaming, wishing that she had been born in centuries past, when Kaede had been in the prime of her life. What would their lives had been like had they grown up together?
Lorena was right, in one aspect at least. Kaede had filled her head with wild stories, tales that were not told around the campfires at night. Stories of far-off lands filled with wonders and creatures the likes of which she'd never seen, but desperately wanted to experience. And Kaede had been right as well. Her Sisters were only interested in the continuation of the clan. Syrenne didn't fault them for it. They knew nothing else.
She wanted something more, and she'd hoped to find it here in the greenlands, far from her place of birth. But she had journeyed with the Gerudo caravan for the past two years now as it struck out to distant cities, and she had yet to find what she sought. She wasn't even sure what to call what she was looking for, or even what she was missing in the first place, but she felt as if some part of her wouldn't be complete until she found it.
Worse, she was starting to wonder if Lorena had a point. The Sisters of her age group that had looked upon her with worship in their eyes after her battle with the moldarach now mocked her for her stunted maturity. Not one of them still wore white paint upon their lips, and all but two had already given birth. Once again she was the child of the group, but this time it was from her own stubborn defiance.
It was also times like this that she despised Baba Kaede, for opening her eyes to the world around her. She could have been happy, like Lorena, content to breed daughters for the tribe. But no, the old witch had inflamed her sense of curiosity, forcing her to look outside of their small part of the world. Why couldn't she have just left well enough alone?
Syrenne started as she felt a flick against her ear. "You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" Lorena asked.
Syrenne blinked. "I … I'm sorry. I was just thinking. What did you say?"
"I said your barrel was on fire. Run girl, run," Lorena deadpanned, then hooked a discreet thumb towards her shoulder. "But I was just trying to get your attention. It seems that your little shadow has followed us."
Syrenne turned her head, brushing at an imaginary mote of dust on her shoulder as she glanced behind her. Her eyes quickly found the flash of color ducking behind the wall at the end of the alley, and she laughed. "So she has."
They had first noticed the young Gerudo girl several weeks back at the desert fortress. It wasn't uncommon for younger girls to develop an infatuation for older women in the tribe. Many even developed something akin to a minor crush for those that they felt they could admire. What was surprising was that they had quickly discovered that the girl only seemed interested in following Syrenne, not Lorena.
The young shadow wore the maroon silks of a Sister, but she was still thin and stringy, barely out of her initiate whites. Twelve, maybe thirteen years of age at the most, awkward in a budding body she had not yet grown accustomed to, she had yet to flower with the grace or curves of a young woman.
The girl's appearance was unexpected, though in retrospect not surprising that she would come with the Sisters on their visit to Castle Town. Young women had to start somewhere, and where better to learn about the world than in the capitol city of the greatest kingdom on the continent?
While she was observing her shadow, Syrenne hadn't noticed the change on her companion's face. Lorena's bored expression slowly transformed until she had developed a playful gleam in her eyes."I think I know just what you need," she said with a chesire grin.
"What's that?" Syrenne asked, half listening.
"Or rather, I know what you don't need," Lorena said, her grin widening.
Her golden eyes flicked back to her Shia'vai. "Are you going to tell me, or do I have to play Twenty Guesses?"
The older woman drew out the silence until Syrenne was curious enough to swivel on her seat and look her in the eye. "Me," Lorena said with a wink before turning and walking deeper into the alley.
Syrenne twisted and stared after her in mild shock. "You're just going to leave me here to pick alone?"
"As my Shia'vai did to me, and hers before that," she said, sauntering down the alleyway, not even bothering to turn around as she waved lazily over her shoulder. "Ta-ta, love. I'll see you back at camp this evening. Remember; we have a reputation to uphold, so do try to grab a real looker."
Syrenne was in such shock that she hadn't managed to formulate a response before Lorena disappeared into the crowd. She glanced around behind her, but no, her shadow had not reappeared. She was well and truly alone.
She kicked a leg out and took another long pull from her water flask, considering her position. Alone in the most populous city in the kingdom, with no one to watch or question her if she successfully seduced a male or not. She could make herself scarce and return to the camp late in the evening, claiming that she'd not found a suitable mate, and face the contempt of her fellow Sisters. Or, she could claim she'd done the deed, and try to fend off what would surely be a barrage of questions. She held no illusions that she could hold the farce indefinitely. The Gerudo were too shrewd for that, and the shame when they found out would be even greater in the long run.
And Lorena had seemed so ... so proud of the thought of her Ohni'vai finally losing her white and becoming pre—
Syrenne's thoughts hitched. She pressed her palm flat against her tanned stomach. To have something growing inside of her... It wasn't exactly a revolting thought, but it did make her feel as if she had swallowed a mouthful of cave moths. The Mothers had assured her – repeatedly – that she was ready for this.
"So why don't I feel ready..." she muttered quietly.
She looked up at the throngs of Hylian shoppers. There was no alternative, then. She had to find a suitable male, and she had to find one before the sun set. By Din above, she swore that she would wake up tomorrow and apply the crimson paints of a fully blooded Sister to her lips.
She gingerly leapt off of the barrel and, steeling her resolve, slipped back into the crowd of Hylians as discreetly as a breath of wind.
Ciao!
Raynre Valence – Sage of Time