6: Eyes
The shade of them fascinated, and occasionally, scared her.
His eyes were so beautiful, even set against his rough features. Striking; strong and proud, shining gold like the sands of their home whipped up against the sunset. They were the eyes of a leader, and she—like so many sisters—loved them.
It was all too easy for Nabooru to find distraction by them, as her King sat aloof from her, half hunched over a distinctly worn desk of oaken and bold Hylian design. She knew the odd furnishing all to well, privy as it was to her glaring scrutiny, heavily set in the most outward room of his chambers to impose upon any called here with a sense of foreign intrusion. One would think a gift of goodwill would have claimed a more favourable condition over the battered old chunk of wood received, but as the nobles often claimed, its value was its heritage.
Unfortunately, the odd desk was also the substitute for her gaze whenever her King noticed the habit she had of staring whilst he busied himself.
Downward and to the side, his Second's attention would feign clipping to the awkwardly carved corner of it, sometimes accompanied with an evasive and distracted hum and, on the hottest days, a blush burning slightly to warm to hide in such weather for being caught. Used to attention as any King may be, he allowed her these strange and slimly hidden perusals with indifference, never finding any cause for concern, and Nabooru was silently grateful for this clemency.
But this day, her slender ankle bouncing nonchalantly upon her knee as the woman reclined in wait of a call to service or counsel, his indifference turned to a swift and painful awareness. A sweat slicked quill fell limply within his large grip, only a single drop of ink misplaced as it dripped upon the map beneath, and a reticent glance—but only a glance!—was sent her way to briefly trace her outline.
Struck helplessly off-guard by it the woman stilled, the idle bounce retracting sharply to see her soft sole upon stone, and hitched exhale met the golden charm she so often stalked. The harsh sun outside of his windows, the murderous slits lining their fortified home, filtered through with a gentle flutter to reach his irises and shimmer there keenly. They were more luminous than a cavern of treasure lit up by a tentative and hopeful thief's lamplight, piercing and sharp like a wildcat in the night, assured and cool despite the flaming colour.
Indulging in them, taken aback for so easily acquiring her addictive quarry this day, she scarcely remembered herself before him. Blinking, a tiny shake of her head betrayed her, thin brows arched in surprise and question.
"Sire? Am I bothering you?"
He shifted then, pulling posture back to fill his chair properly, and setting the quill within the well let powerful hands reunite on the banal desk before him. Ganondorf allowed himself to hold eye contact with her, watching curiously as the woman held back numerous ticks, and pensive tilted his head some.
"No, Nabooru, I wouldn't have you sitting in on me like this if it bothered me." he offered with the hint of a smirk, amusement mingled upon a squint the stole her prize from her briefly. "That said, however, you've been rather silent of late. I had begun to wonder if I was upsetting you." The corners of his mouth lifted to chuckle, a hand gestured to the map between them. "I know you don't much favour these... new affairs of mine."
Even the beautiful gaze was not enough to stay the grimace that took her lips at that, a roll of her own eyes hidden as she took to the long ponytail over shoulder, bringing it forward to groom distractedly.
"As I've said before... I simply don't see why you're whiling away precious time with Hylian lore rather than addressing certain matters while you have their King's attention." she muttered ruefully, recalling the last argument they'd had—Nabooru never dared look him in the eye while his rage flared, for fear it would ruin their lustre.
A strained sigh came rumbling from his throat as his large frame seemed to slump some in disappointment, the hint of annoyance darkening his features into a patient frown. "You just wait. My studies will pay off, Nabooru, I promise you that. You may not see the sense in it now, but you will soon enough." He saw her gaze sharpen and allowed his own to soften, "I was going to bring up several issues in our last meeting with them, but you know how skittish they can be about treaties."
"Which issues?" she pried, brow rising conspiratorially.
"The silk trade, organised supply caravans and the possibility of an aqueduct, pending the Zoras' approval." he offered tiredly, rubbing his temple as a lazy blink dimmed his brilliant stare.
The woman bit her tongue, an almost habitual nag rising up in her throat, though the quiet and weary flicker of gold kept her voice at bay. Her fingers caught a knot in the long crimson tresses, and taking to it, Nabooru nodded with an approving hum. Almost carelessly, after a moment of silence, a small tangent escaped her anyway.
"Is that what you went to see them about last week? The Zoras, I mean... You know the scouts have actually reported the river receding some since then... I'd hate to think you had anything to do with that." she mused jokingly, though her timing was poor.
Such an innocent thing, yet it received no reply, and instantly the question began to reverberate about the room as if a guitar string had snapped in the midst of a spirited tune. Carefully, almost hesitant, she found her gaze lifting away from her hair, searching as ever the shining gold of his own. But there, staring back, were a set she didn't recognise at a glance—it was almost as if the light in them had died, replaced with a stark and lonely yellow, sickly like jaundice. His pupils dilated horribly, large and black blots to reduce the brilliant colour from only moments before, crisp and consuming like suns caught in an eclipse.
These were not the eyes she adored. They were as a stranger, peering down into the bottom of her as if checking a diamond for flaws, ready to throw it away at the slightest sign of clouding. So often, when he was close to her, Nabooru could see her own reflection in them; fixated, she could only stare, locked in a predatory glare by her King and seeing her face a pale streak in those arid eyes.
"...How strange." came his bitter tone, deep and gravelled. "Perhaps I shall inquire as to their well being in your stead when I travel next." Within Ganondorf's mind, growing paranoid now with pending schemes, her watchfulness suddenly found and struck a nerve—his eyes darted to the map, crosses placed over three locations; forests, mountain, and of course, a freshly scribed one now marked the Zora's domain.
If not for her habit, she'd never have caught it, but Nabooru's attention drifted to follow his, watching helplessly as a large hand came to cover his scrawlings, sly. "I'll not be joining you?" she asked quietly, almost absent as she noted the locations, her heart plummeting in her chest.
"No. There's no need, and I would prefer you stay here, seeing as I don't know how long this particular trip may last." he finished bluntly, dismissive as he stared he down, quelling any protest.
It dawned on her then, like bile rising in her throat, that she did know this strange gaze though she often avoided admitting it.
Their arguments were always heated, a battle of wit and moral standing, desperations and frustrations clashing as the two leaders came about different solutions for the same goal. She tried and pleaded for diplomacies and talks of peace, soothing his desires to strong-arm and hurt. The louder he yelled, his booming voice crashing upon her like the brunt of a sandstorm, the darker his eyes became. The shimmer of pride became blind fury. The cool and aloof glances became sharp and frantic glares. She dared not look him in the eye when they fought, nobody did; though that did not mean she had not caught glimpses of hellfire burning in their place once or twice, when bailed up against the sandy stone of these walls.
With those dim flames staring her down so clearly, Nabooru could not deny the eyes she adored were also eyes she despised—she chose so many times to watch him and admire them, but when he truly looked at her in return, when she did not simply admire, the illusion began to fade.
But then, rare as it was, when talking amongst her sisters, one of them would swear she had seen that glint, a different side of him hidden just beyond his irises, and question Nabooru on her fondness for them. For years, as his Second in Command, she had seen it and pushed it aside, telling herself that it was just ambition or frustration, but deep down, she supposed she knew it was something else. Only now was it staring her in the face, unable to be ignored, though something in her gut told her it was too little too late for whatever it was the map seemed to point at.
Perhaps that was why, she pondered as she rose, padding softly to the door and away from the gaudy desk; that was why she and everyone else treasured those brilliant eyes when they shone with golden promise, the last vestiges of a happy boy prince...
For when they didn't, they held something dangerous, and it frightened her.