Doom had come to the Kingdom of Hyrule. A doom long-anticipated and well-deserved. The world of light had grown soft-bellied and complacent in the time that his people had spent exiled, to defeat them now was hardly the challenge that Zant had hoped it would be. Their old enemies, those whom had sealed away his ancestors and left them in the darkness to rot, could they truly have sired such disappointing heirs?
His plan had been to strike quickly, to cut out the heart of Hyrule and watch as the rest laid down their arms in despair and bowed to him. Without their leaders, their rulers, Hyrule would fall without a fight. Now he saw that he needn't have bothered with a decisive stroke. A slow and inexorable invasion would have seen them conquered either way. Gone were the Hylians of ancient lore, those whose magic had rivalled his own people, now their descendants cowered behind steel and stone like animals, primitive and pathetic. Seeing their age-old enemy like this had soured his mood; Zant had expected a challenge, a battle worthy of the power of his god. The sort of battle that would be sung of in centuries to come. But these weaklings did not warrant the use of his powers. His subjects would be enough to overpower them.
"Foolishness," Zant murmured to himself beneath his mask, watching in amusement as his army stormed the keep of Hyrule Castle. It had been childishly simple to open portals between the Mirror of Twilight and Hyrule Castle; no one had bothered to ward off the castle with magic. His shadow beasts had swarmed from every dark corner and shaded nook in the castle before his opponents even realized that they were under attack. The kitchens, the stables, the armory, barracks, most had died where they stood, barely able to recognize that their fair kingdom, the oh-so-invincible Hyrule was being undone before their eyes.
The stupid among them had tried to fight, scrambled for weapons, bellowed rallying cries to their brethren like a pack of apes. Zant was disgusted with them. Their weapons were no match for his army. Sorcery and the raw strength of his shadow beasts saw the knights of Hyrule laid low. Now all those who remained alive had withdrawn to the keep, desperate to keep the invaders from their Princess.
Zelda was her name. Zant knew little of her, but he expected that they would meet soon. He was not a king devoid of mercy. Her surrender would spare the lives of those who lived under her rule, and she would cede the throne of Hyrule to him. Then with both the Realm of Twilight and Kingdom Blessed By the Gods under his rule, nothing else could stop him. This world would fall, one kingdom after another, and he, Zant, would stand supreme above all.
The sound of screams shook him from his reverie. By now the final assault had begun. Those warriors of Hyrule who yet lived must have known, to some degree, that there was no victory to be had here, but Zant could at least appreciate the will it must have taken to no turn tail and run. Plenty of those who had encountered him face to face today had fled, abandoning the princess they had vowed to protect and serve in terror. Zant's disdain for them could not be measured. They had died as they fled. Those men who yet remained were different, perhaps if the power and knowledge of the \Hylians of old was gone, their spirits remained in these men. Zant hoped that he might suffer at least a few casualties, if for no other reason than because this was meant to be his day of triumph, and he was growing bored.
"I thirst…" the words speared in his mind, a thought that was his own, yet suggested by another influence. His god was speaking to him.
"Have patience, Lord, I beg of thee" he spoke softly beneath his helm, careful not to alert his elite guard, "You have delivered me mine enemies, and thusly do I give you praise."
"I thirst…" the words again, and Zant relented. His soul was strong, tempered with magic, and empowered by the will of his god. If he had to sacrifice a little more of it, flesh, blood or soul, then it was but a small price to pay for his god.
A horrible, wrenching pain wracked his gut, but Zant never wavered, never shook in his resolve. Faith required sacrifice if it was to be rewarded, and his god was a hungry god indeed. To a bystander, watching the exchange, it would not have even appeared that Zant had flinched, or moved in the slightest. Beneath his helmet, he squeezed his eyes shut, tasted bile, and waited for the pain to subside. Something was missing inside him now, a piece given up to slake the thirst of his god, but it would be worth it. Once this kingdom was his, Zant would feed the souls of his conquered foe to his deity, and spare himself the cost of worship.
His breathing caught as he regained himself, but if his guards noticed they gave no sign. The sounds of clashing steel and baying men had quieted by now, and Zant clicked his fingers, signalling to his guards that the time was now to advance, and take what was rightfully his. His pain was now entirely replaced by anticipation; he wanted to see this Princess Zelda, meet face to face with the ruler of his hated foe, and take her measure. Her kingdom was conquered in less than a day, her soldiers slaughtered or deserting, Zant was burning up with the curiosity of seeing how she would respond.
A part of him suspected her to be as disappointing as the rest of this world had been, with its garishly bright vibrance and harsh, biting wind. The Twilight Realm, silent and still, was far more dignified and subdued than this barbaric place. This princess was likely a spoiled little brat, rash and petulant after a lifetime of getting whatever she desired at a moment's notice. He sneered under his helm as he strode into the throne room, flanked by his guards, but Zelda was to be nothing like he had expected.
She stood, flanked by two of her last surviving knights. Tall and slender, she held naked steel in her hand like the rest of these brutish folk, but with an elegance that almost made her resemble one of his own people. Zant was, despite himself, enchanted by her beauty, noting the hardness of iron in her eyes and the way in which the regarded him imperiously as he approached.
The throne room was deathly silent now, even the sounds of the last few surviving Hylian soldiers struggling for breath could not be heard over Zant's footsteps. He hoped that he looked as impressive as he felt entering the throne room of the kingdom he had conquered. His god may have given him the power, but it was his strategy, his army that had made it all possible. And it had all been so easy… if today proved anything it was that he had always been the one with the makings of a king. The King of Twilight. And soon the King of Hyrule. It was a shame that his people had not seen it so, at least not at first.
He stood before her now, silent, the threat of doom hanging in the air between them as Zant paused. He had practiced in his head his ultimatum, knew every word of what he had planned to say to her, but now that he stood before his hated foe, he found himself speechless. He wanted to tell her of the suffering of his people, of their unjust banishment into the shadows, and of the retribution that was now coming due. He wanted to tell her of his god, of the power that had been granted to him from it, and how her pitiful kingdom had never stood a chance of repelling him. He wanted to tell her that Hyrule was his now, that nothing she did and no order she gave held any more merit than the babblings of an infant. That she would be princess no longer, but a glorified pet, a plaything to amuse him throughout his reign. But the piercing gaze of those brilliant blue eyes held him in sway. Instead, Zant gave her a choice.
"It is time for you to choose: surrender or die."
Zelda's jaw tightened as he spoke. She made no response, so Zant continued. "Oh yes, a question for all the lands and people of Hyrule. Life? Or death?"
He waited. Zelda did not speak, not right away. The way she looked at him made Zant uncomfortable, as if she could see through his mask and through his flesh, see into the core of his very being and glimpse the pathetic, pitiful steward that he had once been. The mewling, bowing and scraping servant of the royal family, who had done all that was asked of him and more with all the pleasure of a loyal dog.
"You speak as if you lead the Twili," Zelda finally spoke, her voice softer and gentler than Zant had anticipated, a voice that belied the hardness of her gaze. She was like a parent correcting a child. Beneath his mask his mouth gaped at her impudence, the razor truth of her words.
"I am King of the Twilight," he replied evenly, refusing to indulge her by letting her vex him.
"You are mistaken," Zelda replied, "The Twili have but one heir to the throne, and I do not see her here."
Rage exploded inside Zant at even the barest mention of HER. Deep in his belly he felt his god writhe and twist in delight at his hate, and it took every ounce of his will not to cast death at this princess of the light world as she spoke.
"There has been a change in leadership within our kingdom," Zant began to continue forwards, lifting a hand to wave back his elite guards. Nothing here could harm him. "Much as there is about to be in yours. Hyrule is to be mine."
"Hyrule is under the stewardship of our own Royal Family. It belongs to no one save the gods," Zelda spoke with an air about her of total authority, as if her words were facts from a book, and Zant was a boy ignoring his lessons. Her each and every syllable infuriated him; this was his crowning glory, his moment of purest triumph. That things had gone so differently than he had planned was vexing beyond all belief.
"A new god lays claim to it," Zant stood upon the dais where Zelda's throne sat, only a few meters from her, but he made no move to attack.
"How very sad," Zelda told him. "You have been deceived, Zant, Royal Servant. Nevertheless your threats fall on deaf ears. Hyrule will never bow to you." Zelda lifted her sword and levelled the point at his chest as he stood before her. Fury welled in Zant's throat. He matched her gaze and saw that there was no waver in her eyes. At once her two remaining knights leaped for him.
Both men were fast, faster than Zant had anticipated they would be. Swords flashed, and the points angled towards his body before the words of a spell could leave his lips…
Steel pierced his robes, but not his flesh, and as the knights drove the blades home, so they drove them into one another. Both men fell, struck dead by one another's killing blows, and now Zant felt in control again. Zelda's eyes had widened at the sudden violence; Zant took such gratification in seeing her shaken like this. Shaken by the blessings of his god who defended him from harm.
"Deceived, am I?" he sneered as he stepped over the still twitching hands of one of the last knights of Hyrule. "I off er you one final chance to surrender yourself and Hyrule to me. I pray that you will take it, for I am not only king, but prophet as well, and my god knows far less restraint than I."
Zelda's gaze flicked about the room, taking in the bodies of her slain soldiers, those whom she had sworn to rule justly. She failed them, Zant recognized, just as they had failed her. An entire kingdom of nothing but failure.
"I would not see you dead, Princess, not if it could be helped," Zant cajoled, stepping closer to her. "All creation would mourn the loss of your beauty and grace. I would see you retain some status as my consort, at least. Let today not be a day of only conquest, but of union, yes? Our two lands and peoples conjoined in common purpose."
Zelda's eyes returned to rest on Zant as he spoke, and now that slip of the mask was gone. The girl terrified and guilty by the deaths of her soldiers was hidden once again behind the veneer of the cultured royal.
"Hyrule was once a beacon of might and power when my people and yours lived in harmony," Zant reminded her, "Let us be as such once again!"
Zelda smiled thinly, and Zant frowned beneath his helm.
"I would sooner perish," she said, and drove the tip of her blade through the eye slit of his mask.
In another moment she lay upon the floor before her throne, the light fading from her calm, blue eye.
"A shame," Zant spoke earnestly, then turned from her, and motioned for his guards and shadow beasts to follow him. There remained some work to attend to.