Taming the Tiger Chapter 7
He drifted. He knew nothing else. He had never known anything else, and he never would know anything else. All was a soft, shapeless blackness that engulfed him. He could feel himself becoming a part of it bit by bit. It ate away at him like a dog gnawing at the last bites of meat on a bone. He was not frightened. Fear was a foreign concept to him. He had known what it was once but could not recall the how or why. In a way, he longed for it to finish him. He wanted to become a part of something instead of this terrible in between, but there was some rebel part of him that was resisting. It continued to burn stubbornly against the other parts of him that were slowly being sucked away into nothing. It would not let go. It would not relinquish.
So he continued to drift and fade away except for that small flame that was too stupid to burn out. In the end, it would go out too. It was only a matter of time. He floated along currents of darkness and spun around in vast expanses of nothingness. His thoughts dimmed until he no longer cared if the flame continued to burn or not. It was only a faint sensation now.
Just when it seemed as if that idiotic ember of life was about to gutter out something touched it. It burst into life as this new source of energy fueled it, burning away the sweet blackness that he had known and filling him with new painful life. The spark grew into a fire that consumed him like kindling. He could feel this intruder keenly. It was overwhelming in its force. It laid everything else around it flat. A voice called out to him, coaxing him to come towards it and embrace it. Its song was like wine and opium and sex all rolled into one. He couldn't resist, and he found that he didn't want to. As he approached it, he felt two lesser songs mingled in with it. Their voices were whispers compared to the chorus thundering in his ears. They hummed for a moment and then were gone. He immediately forgot about them as soon as they left and abandoned himself to the great voice serenading him.
He hurt. Pain was all he was. He could feel something thumping and something rising, but those things didn't matter in the face of the agony. He didn't care if he had fingers or toes. He could not differentiate one part of himself from another in the sea that he floated in.
There was a noise, a clattering of sounds that he knew should mean something. It sounded like a shriek to him. It tore through his ears until he thought they would bleed from the piercing sound. He didn't want it to happen again. He didn't want more pain. He would make it stop somehow. He would find it and make it stop.
Darkness met his eyes as they roved overhead to spot the source of the terrible sounds. Fear gripped him, and he found that he was afraid of the dark now that he was living again. What if there was only more darkness, but this time he would be separate from it forever? More sounds came, and a new torture was visited upon him. This was one was welcome. Light seared his eyes as his pupils painfully contracted and drank it in.
Something hovered over him and made more noise, but this time it was not was as loud or painful. Slowly, things began to coalesce as his mind started to reshape itself. He realized that the noises had meaning. Words. The thing above him was speaking to him, and it was more than a thing. It was a person.
"Ganondorf?" the person pleaded, voice cracking. He studied this other being with his newly reacquired senses and came to the conclusion that it was a woman. Yes, a woman, and a special one at that.
She repeated the word that he grew to remember was his name. Her brows knit together as she leaned over him until her nose almost touched his.
"Please answer me," she begged.
Something rose in his throat and pressed against his tongue. "Zelda," he rumbled. That one word was like the last stone of a dam tumbling free. His brain buzzed furiously as memories sprouted and flourished. He felt like a bolt of lightning was shooting through him as every nerve in his body seemed to fire simultaneously. He could feel so many thoughts crowding his skull that he thought it would burst from the pressure of them all.
"Oh Goddesses," she whispered as she struggled to maintain her composure.
He watched in fascination as a tear worked its way down her white cheek. For a while, neither one of them spoke but studied each other by the frantic light of a single candle. He could see every minute detail of her face. He could have counted her lashes if he wanted to, but he was too busy etching everything into memory to linger on any one feature of hers for too long. Even the pain seemed to diminish to a dull and constant throbbing.
He struggled to sit up, and the pain came roaring back to life with vengeance. Zelda's concerned expression deepened, and she placed a hand on his chest to force him back down.
"What happened to me?" he wheezed, taking notice of the strange way he was breathing.
The Queen lowered her eyes to his chest. "You died," she whispered.
"What? But then how do I live?" He faintly recalled watching the sun overhead fade and blacken as he felt his mind dying and the blackness grip him. Horror caused a shiver to run through him, and soon he became aware of how cold he was. A quick look around told him that he was in the crypts beneath Hyrule Castle.
"You did not completely die. There was a piece of your spirit still hanging on."
"But how did you do it? What kind of magic did you use?"
"Stay still. I need to heal the wound in your side," she ordered, ignoring his question. She moved around to his other side and bent down to inspect the rent in his skin.
He felt her cool fingers gently press the skin around the wound, sucking in a breath at even that slight touch. "How bad is it?"
She looked up briefly from her work and shook her head. "Goddesses, he skewered you."
"You certainly know how to pick your champions," he said bitterly, recalling the sense of shock and betrayal he'd felt when he had unmasked his murderer.
"That was not my doing," she hissed, her fingers continuing to probe. "That was part of the compromise the Council wanted. If I had not acceded to that you would have been facing twelve men instead of five. If anything it was your fault for wanting to go through with it."
He let out a laugh, the effort of it causing his side to flare with agony. "Is this how you treat a man just brought back from the dead?"
"Is this how you treat the woman who just brought you back?" she quipped before refocusing her attention on his injury.
He said nothing to her response but struggled to lie still while she continued her work. What was she doing anyways? It seemed as if she had been inspecting his wound forever. Warmth touched his skin where her hands were. He looked over and could see a golden light shining from her bare hands. Waves of heat pressed into his side, and he could feel the tissues pull and strain as they knit themselves back together. It was a slow and painful process. Every time he even shifted slightly, Zelda scolded him and returned back to her work. At last, she raised her head from its bent-necked position and gave a sigh of relief.
"It's done," she said triumphantly, wearing a smug look on her pretty face.
He took a deep breath and felt a mild twinge of pain in his side, but nothing compared to what he had been experiencing. "Thank you," he said gravely, holding her eyes with his for a moment.
She made an embarrassed noise before dropping her eyes again to study the floor. "You're welcome."
Silence blanketed them as he watched Zelda's eyes shift around nervously as if she didn't know what she should be doing. What was wrong with her? He had never seen her like that.
"Well, I'll go and bring you some food and water and a blanket. I think you're still too weak to be moved from down here," she said abruptly before turning her back to him and racing off into the gloom.
He let out a deep breath of frustration as he stared at the vaulting ceilings overhead that were lost in darkness. He did not relish the thought of spending anymore time in this place, but as he remembered his struggle to get up, he knew that it would be almost impossible for him to make out of there. The minutes that she was gone drew out into centuries. Every second that ticked by seemed to make the darkness creep in closer towards him as if it wanted to reclaim him. He shivered again from the cold and fear that seemed to engulf the place. Finally, after what felt like a millennium of silence and darkness, he saw a small golden glow making its way towards him and heard the shuffle of muffled footsteps.
The Queen walked towards him wearing a dark cloak with a candle in one hand and a bundle held beneath one arm.
"Here," she said as she sat the bundle on the stone slab next to him, "that's enough food and water to last you for a day or so. I'm not sure how long it'll be before your strength comes back. I've never done this before."
"I should hope not," he quipped, hiding the flash of pain as he turned over on his side to face her.
He saw her give a hesitant half-smile through the flickering light of the candle. He continued to watch and study her as she went about untying the package and laying out his supplies for him. It turned out that she had actually wrapped the food and water in a blanket that he was to use. The whole time she moved her motions remained tense. He could only assume that her discomfort was caused from the fact that she had just raised a man from the dead.
When the food was laid out, she reached into the folds of her cloak and produced a skin of wine and two crude wooden goblets. Unstopping the skin, she poured a healthy measure of the red liquid into each container. "Drink," she ordered, holding her own cup in one hand as she waited for him to obey.
"In any particular reason?" he asked suspiciously as he sniffed it. "You didn't bring me back just to have the pleasure of poisoning me did you?"
She scoffed and took a deep swig of her own to disprove his words.
Following her lead, he reached out with shaky hands and grasped the cup in both large palms. He cursed inwardly as he brought it slowly to his mouth, red wine sloshing over the sides as he did so. He was about to swear and fling the damned goblet across the room in frustration at his own ineptitude when a delicate white hand took it from him.
"Here," she said sternly but gently and tipped it against his mouth.
He blinked in surprise before his instincts took over and his lips parted to let the wine flow over his tongue and down his throat. It wasn't until the liquid had touched his dry mouth that he realized how thirsty he was. He gulped it down in huge swallows until there was nothing but drops left, and even then, he still felt parched. It was intoxicating and not from the alcohol but from the experience. He could not recall having ever tasted anything that rich or exotic, but he knew that it was nothing extraordinary.
"More," he demanded, reaching out with trembling fingers for the empty cup.
She shook her head and dropped the sack of wine onto the floor. "You need water now. I gave you that to warm your blood and possibly help with any pain you might be feeling. You'll make yourself sick if you drink too much of that." She refilled the cup but this time with the glass bottle of water she'd packed with his food.
He stared at it disdainfully for a moment before deciding his thirst was too great and struggled to bring it to his lips. His hands were steadier this time, or at least, they seemed that way. It might have merely been the wine running through his veins. He felt warmer than he had earlier and his joints felt oddly looser. He managed to take a few swallows as Zelda cut up a loaf of bread and a wheel of cheese.
He set the cup down to pick up a slice of bread.
"Eat slowly," she commanded without looking up from her task.
He scowled at her as he resisted the urge to shove the whole thing into his mouth in one huge bit but realized the wisdom of her words. It would not do to make himself sick from overindulgence. It very well might kill him for all that he knew. Instead, he chewed slowly and thoughtfully, trying to savor the strange yet familiar texture of bread. He'd had it before. He knew he had, but it tasted better than anything he'd ever eaten. He swallowed the first bite and paused as a thought occurred to him. "How did you manage to bring my body down here?"
"Magic, of course," the Queen answered nonchalantly.
"I figured that much, but what did you do about the Council? I highly doubt they would let you inter the remains of a thief with that of Hylian Royalty."
"And you would be correct. There was some squabbling after your death as to what should be done with the body. The Council asked me what I thought should be done with your remains, and I replied that I thought they would know better than me. Of course, they played right into my hands. They spent a long while arguing among each other, and while they were doing that, I had them move your body to a cellar. I then snuck away and moved your body here." She finished the last of her slicing and tucked the knife away into an unseen pocket.
"But what did you use to replace my body?" He picked up a slice of cheese and placed it on top of a piece of bread.
"A dead pig," she said sweetly, clearly hoping to get a rise out of him.
He was tempted to take the bait. It would be so easy to go back to the way things were between them, but he knew that that couldn't happen. Things had changed. "I have a feeling I'm supposed to be insulted. I'm just not sure how," he replied, trying to make his tone light but failing.
"Yes, well, it seems that death has made you no sharper," she said in a rushed voice. Her eyes flicked over to the candle and observed how long it had been burning. "I need to get going. They'll start to miss me soon if I do not leave." Her hand started to move towards the candle but stopped as she looked at her surroundings and then at him. "I'll leave the candle with you. Here's the flint for it. I'll be back tomorrow evening."
"You mean you're not going to join me in spending a lovely night among your dead ancestors?"
"I think not." She gathered the rest of her things and held out her left hand palm up in front of her. A small, blue globe of light floated into being. She tossed it carelessly into the air where it lingered just in front of her right shoulder. She turned to leave but then looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm sorry to leave you down here by yourself, truly."
He said nothing but simply watched the darkness swallow her and shuddered.
He did not put the candle out after she left but let it melt down into a stub until it sputtered out. The thought of darkness terrified him now. He dimly recalled what it had felt like to be almost dead. He had wanted to be left there in the darkness, to let himself become a part of it. It now seemed a wholly foreign and alien idea to him. He could never imagine himself thinking such thoughts. He had always held onto life vigorously, some might say greedily. He could always imagine something else beyond every horizon. There was always something waiting to be accomplished, and the thought that he would go quietly into the void frightened him.
When the candle did at last die out, he found he could not sleep. He did not want to sleep for the same reason that he did not like the dark. The same stupid fear that he would go drifting back into that grim place between life and death kept him from shutting his eyes for more than a few moments at a time. The hours ticked by slowly and his mind wandered down different paths.
He felt strange he realized in the early hours of the morning as he fought off sleep. For a man who had literally come back from the dead, he felt surprisingly well. He still ached from his wound and the healing and the insufferable damp and cold of the tombs, but aside from that, he did not feel as if he had come from death's door. Why was that? Come to think of it, how had she brought him back? He could feel something tugging gently at his mind, but it wouldn't reveal itself yet. Eventually, exhaustion overcame him, and he fell into a reluctant and fitful slumber.
He awoke with a start in the dark and found hunger roaring in his stomach. His hands reached and groped blindly for the food that Zelda had left behind. His fingers grazed a piece of bread. He brought it to his mouth and chewed, wondering what time it was. There was no telling in this place. He had no idea how long he had laid awake in the darkness or how long he had slept.
He thought of going to explore his surroundings to help cure his boredom, but when his legs touched the floor they threatened to give out underneath him. Also, the thought of missing the Queen troubled him. It wouldn't surprise him if she left him down here by himself if he wasn't present when she showed up. She was an odd woman to say the least. She could be both kind and cruel when the mood suited her.
So instead of ambling among the bones of long dead monarchs, he stayed on his horribly uncomfortable stone slab wishing he had at least wine to help pass the time while he waited for the ruler of Hyrule.
After many hours of waiting, she came again. He knew now that it was late at night. He had heard the bell toll for the midnight hour some time ago. Her approaching presence was announced by the welcome sight of a bouncing ball of pale blue light.
The hood of a cloak kept her face in shadow and made her look something like a wraith. A basket was looped over one arm with the cork of a wine bottle poking out from underneath the lid. With a shove of her hand, the ball of light floated into the air above their heads and stayed there obediently like a dog awaiting its master.
Silently, she unpacked the things from the basket and laid them out on the stone slab in front of him. Three bottles of potion were lined up before him along with food and a bottle of wine. He picked up one of the delicate glass bottles and turned it in the dim light of the orb. It was a bright red color similar to fresh blood, and it was disconcertingly thick.
"What is this?" he asked, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice.
"It's a red potion," she said matter-of-factly as she continued to arrange his food to her liking.
"I can see that," he drawled as he set it back down and picked up another one. This one contained an odd grey liquid that looked even less appetizing than the first.
"It's a tonic to restore your health and energy. It has no other name besides that."
"And you think it will help?" he asked doubtfully as he set down the second bottle to pick up the last one.
She shrugged in a heavy fall of her cloak. "I am told it works wonders. It's what Link uses on the battle field, and the hedge-witch who sold it to me said it was quite potent."
"Hedge-witches," he spat out the word in contempt. "In other words, an insane old hermit woman who lives in the woods and brews mixtures of goddesses-knows-what to sell them to unsuspecting customers."
"That is a surprisingly accurate description of her," the Queen answered in a pleased voice. He could tell she was hiding a smile.
"You don't honestly expect me to drink this do you?" His stomach was already churning at the thought.
"Yes, I do," she lifted her face to him to let him see that she was serious about the matter. "We cannot afford to keep you down here much longer. I cannot risk sneaking down here every night or so to bring you supplies, and I doubt you want to spend any more time here than you have to."
"You do have a point," he said idly as he picked up the first bottle again. Suddenly, it didn't look that unappetizing. "What are these others for?"
"Those were additional supplements she gave me. You are to drink the red potion before you eat. The grey potion during your meal, and the black one after you eat. It's supposed to help speed up your recovery."
He refrained from gagging at the thought and decided to turn his attention to another problem plaguing him. "Where exactly have you found for me to stay while I recover?"
"There is an old study of my mother's that has long been boarded off. I thought we could store you in there."
"And then?"
She sighed in frustration and cursed as her knife slipped and nicked her fingertip. She lifted the tip of her finger to her mouth and sucked on it for a moment before answering his question. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet. Right now, we just need to focus on getting you better. We'll worry about the rest when we get to it."
"I was afraid of as much," he mumbled as he turned his attention to the food laid out before him.
"At least, I've thought this far ahead. I don't see you spouting any ideas, and don't eat that before you take the red potion. Here." She shoved the bottle into his face.
He scowled at the small bottle but uncorked it and gulped down its contents. He smacked his lips in distaste as the bitter aftertaste settled on his tongue.
The Queen looked on approvingly with her arms folded over her chest and poured him a cup of wine. He took it gratefully and tried to drown out the taste of the red potion.
The rest of the time they spent together was mostly spent in silence. She forced him to take the second potion, which was worse than the first, and then the last potion after he was done eating. The last potion was not nearly as terrible as he had feared. It had almost no taste but an oddly pungent smell like something burned.
"How are you feeling?" Zelda asked a few minutes after he had drained the last bottle.
He paused before speaking to truly assess his condition. He did feel better. His legs felt as if they could hold his weight once again, and the pain had diminished. Still, he felt oddly numbed too. It was like some unseen and rarely used part of consciousness had fallen asleep. You didn't notice it until it was gone. He frowned at this revelation.
"Better," he answered slowly, nodding as he did so.
"Good," she said. "I hope you will be strong enough to leave this place tomorrow so that I can lead you to the study."
"Why don't you use magic to transport me there like you did here?"
She raised an eyebrow as if the answer should be obvious. "It is far easier to move a . . . dead body than a live person."
"Forgive me for my ignorance, it has been so long since I've done magic. I have forgotten some of the rules of it." He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"That is understandable," she said a little too quickly.
He noticed the change in her bearing instantly. Something had spooked her.
As she had done the night before, she picked up all of her things, leaving the rest of the food behind for him and bid him farewell. Once again, he watched her recede into the darkness, but this time there was not even the light of a fading candle to comfort him.
The hours in the dark passed silently and slowly as they had the night before, but this time fear of his own weakness did not hold him back. Much to his surprise, the potions had worked. He could feel strength running through his limbs again, but that strange numb feeling still plagued him.
He slid off of the stone slab and walked slowly around the cool chamber. He didn't go far because he could not see anything, but he wandered simply for the sensation of walking and moving. Even as a child, he had always taken his size and strength for granted. Physical training and athletics had come naturally to him. He remembered dimly being very young and the first things he could recall holding in his hands were a small bow and a horse's reins. Now, he felt like a child all over again, amazed at how his own body responded to his thoughts. He ran his fingers over cold marble pillars and traced the etchings carved into their surfaces. He became so buried in his musings and memories that he lost track of time. Soon he could feel the new energy flagging and sleep weighing him down.
He crawled onto the slab and threw the much-too-small blanket over himself. Begrudgingly, he allowed his eyes to shut. He dreamed of someone calling to him, a woman he thought. It was the sweetest voice he had ever heard. At first he thought she was speaking, and then he realized she was singing. He couldn't make out the words though. They were muffled. He could barely hear the song. He ran and ran. He leapt chasms deep and dark as the mouth of Hell. He forded rivers that made the Zora seem like a stream, but he never got any closer. Always it was heard in the distance. Mocking.
A burning light woke him. He blinked and saw that Zelda was standing over him with an orb of light hovering over her head.
"How are you feeling?" she asked as she stepped away so that he could sit up.
"Better, much better," he mumbled, throwing the blanket off of himself and getting to his feet.
"Good," she murmured as she held her chin in her hand and studied him with shadowed eyes. "Do you think you are strong enough to take on several flights of stairs?"
"I believe so, and if I should tire I'm sure you would carry me the rest of the way."
"I would not account on it. I have enough old men weighing me down at the moment. I don't need another."
"Old? I admit I am not a teenager anymore, but I am far from old."
"Well, you are to me," she said as she turned and started walking deeper into the catacombs.
"How can you even say that?" he mused as he followed her. "You probably don't know my age as I don't know yours."
She glanced back over her shoulder as him, giving him a glimpse of her profile. "I am twenty-two, and yourself?"
Her answer took him a bit by surprise. He had known she was younger than him, but he had always abstractly thought of her as being in her late twenties. He realized it was the way she carried herself. He wasn't accustomed to young women her age being so . . . mature. So cold. So reserved.
He hesitated before he answered. "I am thirty-five."
"So you are old," she answered simply. She led them past a row of sarcophagi with the likenesses of their dwellers carved onto the lids.
"I am only thirteen years older than you," he said frowning, his eyes roved over the arched stone ceilings adorned with carvings of demons and gargoyles.
"Only," she scoffed as they turned a corner and met with a warped wooden door. She took a great black iron key from a pocket and shoved it into the lock. With a shriek the lock gave, she pushed the door open with her hand and signaled for him to precede her.
"Yes, only," he said as he slid past her and into the doorway.
She stepped in after him and locked the door behind them. "You'll forgive me, but I think thirteen years is more than a little bit older than me." She mounted the first step and began to ascend.
"You don't get out much, do you?" He allowed her to make it up three steps before starting up the stairs himself. In the convenient light cast by her magical sphere and the small confined space of the stairwell, he found his eyes wandering. He tried to find something to focus his gaze on. His eyes wandered from her shoulders to the middle of her back and then dangerously lower. He tried his best to keep his gaze averted.
"Why do you say that?" she asked casually, completely unaware that he was trying his best to avoid staring at her backside.
"Because," he said, "if you did, you would realize that most women are married to men much older than them than by thirteen years. I've heard of Hylian girls being married at the age of fifteen to men in their sixties." His tone of his voice conveyed his unspoken thoughts on that matter. He had never understood the appeal of it. Oh yes, there were the political possibilities, but why would any man that old want a girl for a wife who was young enough to be his granddaughter? How could two people that far apart in years even relate?
"That is a moot point," she said decisively as she mounted the last step and stood in front of a grey wooden bound with brass.
"Why?"
"Because you and I would never marry." She turned away from the door and looked down at him with unreadable eyes. She looked as if she wanted to say something more, but what could be said?
She only spoke the truth. He knew she only spoke the truth, but for some reason, it hurt. It shouldn't hurt. He knew it shouldn't hurt, not like this. He opened his mouth to respond to that, but his words had run as dry as hers.
After several moments of unbearable silence, he spoke. "Who would you marry then?" He tilted his head to the side and leaned against the side of the stairwell. Someone like the King of Holodrum? Someone like the hero?
Her eyes dropped to the ground and looked around searchingly. "I do not know," she whispered before taking out another key and opening up the door.
They did not speak for the rest of the way. That was fine with him. It allowed his mind to dwell on the unspoken problem of the King of Holodrum. What would they do now? He had no idea how long he had been dead. He did not know what was brewing between Zelda and that man. How had she played her hand? He thought about asking her, but the words stuck in his throat. Best to leave it for now. It would come up eventually.
The Queen took them through dark, narrow corridors that seemed to twine through the walls of the castle like vines of ivy. They climbed flight after flight of steps, and still, he did not feel his strength failing him. He began to think that perhaps she was making it as confusing as she could so that he would not know how to escape. Then again, what did she have to fear from him now? They all believed he was dead, and it was in his obvious best interest to keep them believing that. He could run, but his people would never take him back.
Eventually, they came to a small hidden door set deep into the wall. He could tell from the look of it that it had not been used in years. The keyhole and knob had once been very fine, polished brass, but now they were tarnished with years of neglect. The Queen opened the door and walked in slowly. The lintel was so low that it almost brushed the top of her head. Ganondorf had to crouch to make it under, but thankfully, the ceiling proved to be much higher than the door frame. He stretched gratefully to his full height and looked around him.
The room was larger than his previous chambers, but it was cluttered. Books were everywhere. They were crammed into the shelves lining the walls, into the freestanding bookshelves making a maze in the middle of the room, onto tables and chairs, and into corners. Some of them were so old that they seemed to be decaying before his eyes. Others looked only to be a few years old with lovely binding engraved in gold. Paper was scattered everywhere as well. He could see pages of parchment sticking out from some of the books, and some pages were simply scattered on the floor in front of him.
The furniture had once been of the best quality, but now the cloth was threadbare and sun bleached. Chairs were strewn throughout the room between the shelves, and the tables were shoved beside them or into the corners. He looked up and he could see clear, clean starlight above him streaming in through the one window. It was set into the roof. A thick pane of glass covered it, and he could see a thatch of the roof propped up. The entire room reminded him of nothing more than a beloved garden left to its own devices. He could tell that it had once been a dear and secret place that had been well tended. Now it seemed as if the books, parchment, and furniture had developed minds of their own and moved around the room.
He picked up one of the books laying on a nearby table and read the title. The History of Sheikah Service to the Royal Family. He laid it back down and moved to the other side of the room. There were two other doors that led out of the room, but they were locked.
He turned to where Zelda stood studying one of the shelves of books with an intense look on her face.
"You're sure it is safe for me to stay hidden here?" he inquired, trying his best to ignore the numerous questions that kept cropping up in his brain. Where did those other doors lead? Why was there a small, hidden side door? What was Zelda afraid of?
"Quite sure," she answered carelessly as she selected a volume from the shelf and flipped through its pages.
"How can you be so confident?" If he was going to be cooped up in another small space he wanted to know what made it so damn secure.
She looked up from the page she was reading to answer him. "This is my mother's private study. I am one of only a few people who even know it exists. Most of those other people are dead. She had it secretly built without my father's knowledge. As you already know, their marriage was not one of love, so she wanted a hiding place that he would not know about." She shut the book she had been reading and slipped it back into its place.
"How did it get it like this?" he gestured at the mess around them.
The Queen ignored the question and led him over to an area between two tall, heavy bookcases that loomed on either side of them. With a flick of her hand, the ball of light moved until it revealed a pallet laid out in front of them.
"This is where you shall sleep," she said. "Do you think that will be fine?" She turned and stared up into his face.
"Anything would be an improvement compared to where I have slept for the past two nights." He rolled his shoulders at the memory of lying on that hard, cold stone. Truthfully though, it was better than what he had expected. There were at least a dozen pillows of varying sizes piled up around the space and several blankets that seemed like they were thick and soft. He could not tell exactly what colors they all were in the dark, but they seemed like mostly dark, rich shades. It almost reminded him of how he used to sleep in the desert.
"Good, you wouldn't believe how hard it was smuggling out all of those blankets and pillows," she said laughingly.
"You didn't have to," he said seriously, looking at her from the corner of his eye.
She nodded and hugged herself as if against a sudden chill. "I know. Well, I shall leave you to your rest now. I will be back tomorrow with food. You are free to study any of the books you like."
He nodded at her words and silently watched her go.
That night he slept relatively well in comparison to the two nights before. The blankets and pillows were as soft as he had originally thought, and he felt silk and velvet slide beneath his fingertips. Not long after he had lied down, his eyes began to feel heavy, and he let oblivion surge forward.
His dreams were much as they had been the previous night. He heard the strange and seductive singing, but this time it was louder. He could almost make out the words, and it almost seemed as if he might be able to reach its source this time.
The bright slant of sunlight flowing down through the one window pried his eyes open. He got up and wandered over to it. For a long time, he did nothing but stare up into a grey overcast sky. He realized again how badly he wanted out now that his strength was returned. He paced the room; occasionally, kicking over a pile of books in frustration. He tried the other doors he had seen, but they remained stubbornly shut. The original door he had come through was locked as well.
He gave up and decided to sulk in a corner. What would he have done if he had gotten out anyways? Where would he have gone? Come to think of it, how would he have even escaped the confines of the castle without being seen? He had no allies outside of the Queen, and she did not seem to be about to release him any time soon. Though why, he still had no idea. He also had no magic to aid him. He pressed his hand to his chest in an instinctive gesture as if somehow to cover up the hole that he normally felt there when he remembered his fall from power. He narrowed his eyes suddenly in thought. The hole wasn't there anymore, or at least, he could not sense it as keenly. Why? He searched within himself, but could find nothing obviously changed.
His mind was working furiously. The parts fit together somehow. He knew it. That damned Hylian woman was hiding something from him. His thoughts darkened quickly. How typical of her kind. They would lord any and everything they could over another's head. Zelda was as cold and proud as any of her arrogant race. Why had he ever expected any differently from her?
He frowned at the sudden turn of his thoughts. They were getting away from him. She had saved his life, he forcefully reminded himself, and risked her own in the bargain. If anyone ever found out that he was still living and breathing thanks to the queen of Hyrule, no amount of political power in the world would save her.
He pressed his fingers to his temples and sighed. "What has happened here that I am not seeing? What has that woman done?"
By the time she returned in the evening, Ganondorf was starving. He had not eaten since yesterday. She entered through one of the main doors on the other side of the room.
She stepped between the shelves and found him lying on his back reading a history on some long dead king.
"Have I ever told you how incredibly boring Hylian monarchs' biographies are?" he drawled as he let the book drop to the floor and sat up on his elbows. He saw that she was without a cloak this time and clad in her usual style of dress. That must mean her rooms were nearby, possibly even connected to this one by some secret passage.
"No, I don't think so, but then again, I often don't recall many of the things you say," said Zelda offhandedly as she knelt down on one of the blankets and carefully arranged her skirts around her.
"Glad to know my advice is heeded," he responded as he watched her set out the plates and cups.
The clouds had scuttled away earlier that day and bright bars of sunlight were beaming into the room. They gave the whole situation the feel of a picnic. Ganondorf couldn't help it. He laughed at the absurdity of the idea of he and the queen of Hyrule sitting idly on a hillside out in the open and eating together.
"What is so funny?" she said sharply. She took out a loaf of bread, dried meat, three apples, a bottle of wine, and another smaller bottle full of the black potion he had taken the other night.
"Nothing," he answered mildly, taking the plate she handed him.
"It's never nothing with you," she said before pouring them both a cup of wine and beginning to sip on it lightly.
He didn't answer her jibe but decided to eat instead.
The meal carried on in silence as each tried to figure what the other was up to exactly. Ganondorf was busy wondering what Zelda was trying to hide from him, and she was wondering what he had found so funny earlier.
Once again, it came down to Ganondorf to break the silence. "So how are things going with Fillepus?"
"Fine," she answered airily as she turned her attention to an apple.
"Really?" he inquired as he took another sip of wine and rested his elbows on his knees.
"Yes," she said in a harder tone of voice to indicate that he should change the subject.
He made a noise of doubt in his throat and stared into the depths of his cup before he drained it. "Funny, it seems hardly fine to me from the way you're acting."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to stop her words.
"I know you," he said as he leveled a gaze at her. "I know you far better than any of your idiotic Councilors or fawning sycophants or that boorish Fillepus. I believe I know even know you better than your little hero does. So please spare me the façade, it does you no good."
He watched in smug satisfaction as color rose in her cheeks. He had always found it funny how red Hylians' faces turned when they were angry or embarrassed. He couldn't tell which it was with her.
"How do you presume to know me so well as to read my thoughts and actions as if they were a part of some book?" she hissed. She slammed her cup of wine down and sent several drops sloshing over the side and onto her face.
"Because I once was you, milady," he said coolly as he leaned forward and wiped the drops of wine off her face with his thumb.
She sat there frozen with a mixture of surprise and horror mingling on her face as his thumb grazed over her cheeks and forehead. When he had collected all of the wine, he put his thumb to his lips and sucked the wine off.
"You think me so much older than you, but not so very long ago, I was a young and unsure ruler like yourself. I was given a kingdom that did not wholly trust or support me and was expected to do the best I could with it. I see through your ruse because I felt very much the same as you do, though I did not employ the same tactics as you do to cover up my feelings," he continued. The red slowly seeped from her face, and she returned to her natural pallor.
"You want the truth of it then?" she asked raising an eyebrow.
He nodded.
"Well then, I shall tell you when you drink your potion." She thrust the small bottle of black liquid at him.
His lip curled into a sneer. "No, I am feeling fine. I don't need any more of that whatever it is."
Her mouth quirked into a smirk. "You won't continue to feel better unless you take it. I can't afford to have you dying on me again. Not after I put so much work into bringing you back. Now, if you want to know how things truly stand, you'll drink it."
He growled wordlessly and snatched the bottle from her. He turned it around and around between his fingers before he worked up the courage to uncork it and drink it down. The same odd taste and smell accompanied it along with the strange feeling of numbness.
"Happy?"
"Very," she said as she took the bottle from him and put it back into the basket. He saw her mood fall though as she turned her thoughts to the true issue at hand. "They are not going as well as I had hoped. The Council and Fillepus are both putting more pressure on me to be more . . . committed. The Council is demanding an engagement, and Fillepus seems to be demanding a wedding." Her brows drew together in a frown.
"I was afraid of as much. It seems your plan has been working too well." He snatched up an apple and bit into it.
"Yes, I think that is exactly the case. He seems to think I am genuinely interested in him, or if he doesn't believe it, then he doesn't care. I would not be surprised either way." She thoughtlessly dug into the basket and produced a napkin. She handed it to him to wipe the juice from his chin.
He finished chewing and drew the cloth across his mouth before speaking. "I believe now is the time for a distraction."
"A distraction?" she said incredulously. "Goddesses, the man just witnessed a tournament and an execution. I would think that that would be enough to keep him occupied."
Ganondorf winced at the mention of his own death. He could almost feel the sword driving into his guts again. He swallowed the phantom pain down and thought for a moment. "If it were any other man I would agree with you. However, it seems the King of Holodrum is a particularly driven and single minded creature. If he is allowed to dwell on anything too long, nothing will deter him from that path.
"Well, then what do you suggest?" she asked over the rim of her goblet. She took a long swallow before setting it down carefully on the floor again.
"A ball."
"A ball? You're serious?"
"Perfectly," he said as he took another chunk out of the apple.
"Fine, then a ball, it is, but it will take weeks possibly months of planning. Goddesses, and the expenses." She cast her eyes downward and bit on a thumbnail, already thinking of the costs and many minute details.
"I'm sure you can put something together sooner than that."
She frowned at him in answer. "You obviously have no idea what this entails."
"It will go much quicker if you allow him to collaborate with you. Say it's in his honor or some such nonsense. It'll keep his mind occupied, and he seems like the kind of man who likes control."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Funny, that sounds like someone else I know."
"Hmm," he murmured as he finished off the apple in three quick bites. "I think I should attend as well."
"No," she said in a dead voice. Her face became still and composed as she stared at him. "I mean it. The last time you wanted something like this you died. How do you expect to get away with this? It's insane."
"Make it a masquerade ball," he said offhandedly.
"You're a fool if you think a mere costume would disguise you."
"Oh no, I think more than a mere costume is needed. I'm sure there is some sort of magic you could employ for the occasion."
She sighed in frustration and defeat. "I could, but I won't."
He said nothing but stared at her as innocently as a face like his could manage, which was a surprising amount.
"You're not going to let this go are you?"
"No," he answered.
"Damn."
Here you have it! Sorry, I haven't updated in forever but this semester was terrible. It seemed like there was always a paper or a test due. I'm sorry if you're disappointed with this chapter. I admit it is a bit of a filler, but I figured with all of the excitement of the past two chapters, some filler was due. Besides, I've been wanting to do the ball idea for a while. I'm thinking there are only about another two to three chapters left in this story before I wrap it. Well, as always, I would love to know what you thought.