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Chapter 22: Fear
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And so the Tower falls.
A long finger nail nudged the rook piece down on the chess board. Cia listened to her companion's update and followed accordingly with her hand, like a puppet being strung by its master, but not unwillingly. One piece down for their side, though there could be more if they counted the defeat of the Manhandla as the second rook, and her shadow assassins as pawns.
He was no less pleased than she was. Again they had been thwarted by the Royal Family and their guardians. A fortress of an asset was lost, when the outcome shouldn't have played out that way. She had seen a glimpse of the king and those children crushed by the structure of the tower that their specialized Stalmaster had launched upon them!
This was why she had ported the boned giant and the Redead hordes in the first place. They were supposed to overwhelm those people from interfering with her plans, and the Tower was to handle the king. Only Hyrule's general would have survived and escaped that battle. If there was anything or anyone else, she could not see the visions in her crystal ball because they were obscured. Again!
"It's so infuriating when this happens," she slammed a hand down on the game table, causing a few pieces to shake. "It's like there's something cheating fate, and defying me."
Stop whining, his voice carried their shared irritation inside her mind. And review the visions from your crystal ball that I pointed out. Not the recent ones yet. The ones I had you study.
Cia rolled her eyes before leaning forward, dragging the circular table closer to her, and holding the crystal ball so that it wouldn't tumble away. "So bossy," she griped. "I thought we've already been over these."
We're going over them again. Until it sinks in and you achieve a clear understanding of how this will work. This is why you're still failing to overtake the minds of the mortals in your prison cells. Now, what is the first image you see?
The crystal ball changed from its default, hazy grey to red. Colors spiraled like crimson clouds, to outline a short, stubby figure. The creature had a gnarly appearance, with a stout nose, floppy ears, and a skull belt around its waist with a curved horn attached to it.
"Bokoblin," she said simply.
Right. And what is their purpose?
Her face scrunched with confusion. "Purpose? I thought they were only going to become my minions."
There it was again, that ignorance he had to deal with. This woman truly did not have an inkling of how gifted she was, to wield these powers. What most wouldn't do to be able to have the means of spectating events throughout time. Events that felt familiar, when he saw the visions from the past eras she had presented, like waking forgotten memories. He would often try to push them aside so as not to deviate his focus from their plan.
His voice made a disapproving grunt. Every minion has a purpose, witch. I'm not talking about the ones you summon who know nothing but to obey your command. These have a background, each with a culture of their own as to how they live. As their masters, we must first understand how they think, and once you've conquered the ability to control the mind, managing your minions will become second nature.
He knew how much it frustrated her that several of the powers he tried to teach her did not always come instantaneously. She wanted everything given to her without putting in the effort.
Bokoblins, like Moblins and Bulbins, generally have a standard way of life… they hunt, eat, and sleep. In this aspect, they are very much like animals. And many animals can be domesticated in the same sense that you'll be able to own these creatures. Once you've established in their mind that fighting for you will reward them with food and shelter, they will be among some of the easiest minions to maintain. Their strength does not always come from a single individual, but more of a hindrance in numbers, to the opposing forces, he said knowingly.
Cia nodded, watching as the ugly gremlins in the crystal ball changed. A lantern could be seen in front of a ragged cloak, a pair of pale eyes glinting at the rotted corpse lumbering near it. Next to both these creatures was a mummified figure wrapped in bandages, and a skeleton trailing behind it.
Poe, Redead, Gibdo, and Stalfos. A few examples of the undead we'll be in charge of, he paused. Not counting the group of Redeads we've lost at the Valley of Seers, the rest you brought here have been an excellent start for you. You plan to keep them in the east tower, correct?
"For now," Cia replied. "I figured having them roaming around the court yard might start drawing attention. I've attempted to subdue the stench with bewitched rose shrubs that can disorient scent, and I've fortified our thorn barricades to keep onlookers away. But obviously this needs work too, because the couriers still try to find ways to slip inside."
And that was another issue they would have to face. It would only be a matter of time before their residence would start to gain more curious wanderers. By then, the witch needed to make significant improvement with what he was teaching her, so that she could have the capability to defend their main base. More importantly, to not have to rely only on summoned minions.
Bring forth the three mortals in your prison cells, he commanded. And the Poes that lurk outside their bars. Let us see more of our lectures in action.
Cia conjured multiple Dark Links, and repeated his orders to them. They disappeared toward the direction of the dungeon's tower. While waiting for them to return, he spoke up again.
As it goes without saying, the undead's only purpose is to devour. Redead, Gibdo, and Stalfos crave mortal flesh. There seems to be a ridiculous assumption that by a mere bite, these creatures can turn a mortal to become like them, but if that was the case, this world would have been crawling with walking corpses a long time ago. It is the Poes that can turn a mortal into an undead, should the mortal surrender or be forced to surrender their soul. The assault doesn't always kill the victim however. If they survive, they maintain their breathing body, but without a soul. And live as an empty husk.
"This is a lot to cram in my head," said Cia, surveying her nails. "So you're basically saying that when a person willingly surrenders or is forced to surrender their soul to a Poe, they can either live, but without a soul - or they die and become a Redead? How can you tell which will happen and why would people want to surrender their souls in the first place?"
See, Poes are cunning. They can look into one's soul, and find the darkness or fears that reside there. With this knowledge, they are able to project illusions of hope and happiness onto their victims. If the victim succumbs to the Poes to keep going, and they usually do - most of, if not all of the soul will leave the victim's body, and into the lanterns carried by the Poe, which empowers them. Whether or not the body survives or reanimates as a Redead, their essence is likely gone. This is why Poes are drawn to mortals who are experiencing misery, terror, general negativity… because that is when they are most vulnerable. And thus, more vulnerable to the Poe's lure
"They're as good as dead then," said Cia. "Whatever the outcome is advantageous for a Poe. Also, you say there's no certainty if their bodies will survive, but I think we can tell sometimes by sapping their life force slowly. The Poe we've been using on that prisoner has already deformed his arm to decompose, so I'm pretty sure I know what will become of his fate, once we're done with him."
You're learning. Good.
Cia glanced back at the crystal ball, which was blank now. "You and I haven't exactly been bouncing up and down with positivity. Wouldn't they try to tempt us?"
They would, he said darkly. But my experiences with them in the past have taught me how to keep such vulnerable thoughts away from their grasp. I will keep us safe in that regard. And we'll be able to rule over them like any other minion. As long as you give them reason to believe that fighting at our side will give them the chance to ravish souls, they will eagerly float around this place. Their numbers will radically increase here too, especially if we bring more mortal prisoners.
"Speaking of which," Cia cast her eyes to her Dark Links returning with the current prisoners.
The boy was brought first. Spell-bound chains dragged at his ankles with every strained step he took. Three Poes enclosed around him, their chilled presence instilling constant anticipation, if he or anyone dared to deny the will of the dark sorceress. Her fury would only serve to bring back the harm she had already inflicted to one of his arms, which had been carelessly wrapped in a heavy cloth and hung at his side like it had lost the bones to keep it structured together.
"Sit."
He did, flinching when the cold metal of the chair went through his moth-eaten clothes, and the chains reassembled themselves to strap around his body. There was no escape, he had tried before - and had both him and his grandpa punished for it. Even if he had any strength left in his malnourished state to be able to run away, the doors slammed shut in the large room, followed with a click of locks, as if they had read his thoughts. But not before the other individuals requested were brought in prior. The second prisoner hobbled his way to Cia, his walking stick making dull thunks as he did so. The chains too fastened on him, ensuring that he was just as much of a prisoner here, as the child was.
Cia did not have the man sit and instead moved languidly to the boy, circling around his chair with her heels. "Your grandfather's failures recently will cost you today, kid. Where do we even start?"
"Leave him alone!" The museum owner exclaimed, the chains noisily moving with him and compressing tightly.
Ignoring him, Cia continued. "Let's see. First off, the progress of the keeps became stagnant. We could have had at least three keeps by now but he just had to take pity on the workers and give them extra breaks. And snuck off more food to them than was needed to survive."
"People who work that much need more rest, and your minimum for them to survive was near starving them!" The man argued. "You were trying to make them into slaves, not workers!"
Her lips drew into a thin line. "They become whatever I deem them to be. If I want them to work until they drop, they shall. We'll have replacements until they gain conscious. If I want to dispose of them after they are no longer of use to me, I can feed them to the Redeads again. Just like I did with that neutral tribe that did not belong to any kingdom. No one to search for them, so no tracks we had to cover up."
"You on the other hand," she dismissed the revolt on his face. "Had one task, and that was to make sure the keeps were progressing. Now look at this."
Cia pointed at her crystal ball on the table next to the chess board. Beyond the brief scenes flashing by that weren't between blurs, was one of their completed keeps being blasted into rubble. And within the distance of where the projectile was fired from, were the soldiers and leaders of multiple kingdoms.
These foreign mortals are a problem, the disgruntled voice rang in her head. Until they leave, they will be in our way. The king knows this too, and even if the defeat of the Tower, and the destruction of one of our keeps was a victory for them - it was a fluke. Whatever blurred the visions impeded with our plan, along with those siege weapons.
"What happened to the Tower?" Cia demanded. "You were there."
I'm surprised the king didn't kill him. You've gone soft, old man. And a former shadow of the mighty warrior you once were, now hindered by age. The Tower would have decimated you.
The museum owner said nothing.
"That's how it's going to be?" She drawled. "Alright then. Guess we'll have to get started on the boy's other arm."
"I don't know what happened!" the grandfather said desperately.
He lies.
"Poes, you know what to do. Slowly drain, like last time."
"As you wish, Mistress."
"P-please don't -" he dropped to his knees, cane in hand. "He has nothing to do with this! Take me instead."
"Grandpa," the boy's tremulous, but hallowed voice matched his own. "Don't. I'll be alright."
No, no he wasn't, and if anything, him trying to endure through this only made it worse. His pleas to spare his grandson of further damage were not heard - no mercy would be shown here.
A hideous, skeletal-like hand protruded from one of the cloaked Poes. Its ghastly fingers squeezed around the boy's uncovered arm, the icy death touch extracting into his pulse. Whatever hopeful illusions it portrayed to the child, he wasn't able to resist them, even as his grandfather writhed within the chains and yelled out to bring him back to his senses.
"Oh look, there it goes," said Cia emotionlessly, as the young, human finger began to wrinkle like it had aged over fifty years. The skin withered and decomposed, the same way his other arm had. An incision formed there, wherein a handful of the dead flesh was disintegrated into ash, and rematerialized into the museum owner's talisman. Adding onto the ash that was already there.
The boy's screams echoed in the room, until his head finally sagged downward, barely alive.
"Should we go for the next finger, or are you going to tell me now? Your talisman will only get heavier with more of his remains."
The old man shook, his body racking with angry sobs. "You're a vile, cruel woman," he spat. "It doesn't matter what I tell you. You would have done this to him anyway! I hope the Royal Family and their guardians find this place and burn everything including you, into the infernal depths it belongs in!"
"Touche," she cackled. "But I can't have their guardians keep helping them, can I? Nor the other kingdoms providing any aid."
The foreign mortals will likely be leaving after the Capital Tournament event, her companion said suddenly, having been absorbed in the malice she had proven to show. It's announced in those flyers all over the place, and that should be coming up very soon. But until they do, we need to lay low again, which we're used to, except this time it will have to be away from the Valley of Seers for now. After what happened, I would not be surprised to see guards routinely sent out there to scout and make sure nothing else comes up. Especially at the museum.
"So there goes our plan of securing a base around the altar, then?" She drummed her fingers irritably on her staff.
No, he said shortly. We will still need that area constructed, so we will adjust our scheme, but it will take time to make it work. It would truly challenge your prowess as a master of time and portals. The Gate of Souls needs to be covered when you're ready to summon it. We will have to wait until they are distracted with their tournament to at least start building walls around that altar.
"Try me," Cia challenged. "I tire of waiting."
Patience, he reminded her. We need to be careful with our moves. Especially now. You must respond to the king's letter as soon as possible… he's sent several by this point. If you don't, he'll start becoming suspicious, and the last thing we need is a whole army at our doorstep when we're not prepared yet.
"Urgh, complications," the sorceress groaned. "What should I tell him, then?"
That you've had no update on your visions yet, he said automatically. That you'll let him know once you do. But you and I both know we'll be keeping him in the dark about everything. It's imperative that no one is aware of our plans.
"I know, I know, you've made that clear already," she said, turning the discarded parchments over on the table, while still keeping an eye on her prisoners. "I'll write to him soon. Aside from that, what should I keep working on until we can make another move?"
Now that you have a better understanding of some of our minions, though there will be more to go over eventually, I say we go ahead and let the Poes finish these two. Let that be an example to our third prisoner here, so that he can see what can happen to those that oppose us. Fear is only but one of the numerous ways we'll control our forces. You're already showing much promise, Cia. I do believe that we'll be able to bend the third prisoner's mind now. See for yourself.
And so she did. Bolstered by his approval, she gave the Poes the final order. Unmoved by the sight of the dying child, and the grandfather, who made a pathetic attempt to strike the wraiths with his cane. Her Dark Links shoved him to the ground, the chains heavily dropping with him still ever so tightly around his feeble frame - nearly choking his neck.
"I already thought you talking to yourself was insane enough," the third prisoner remarked in a spiteful, but terrified voice. "But this is beyond sickening. No child should ever have to suffer such a fate," he shook his head at the short, full-bodied Redead that now sat on the chair. "And no family should have to witness this and outlive someone who had far more years ahead of them."
Cia blinked at the old man bawling on the floor. He did not stop until he had sunk into the Poe's illusions, but by then he no longer had the resolve to fight back. Why should he? The illusions showed him sunny days of a man and his grandson hunting treasure, searching for artifacts for their dream of establishing a museum together. The fleeting, warm moments of hope and adventure came and went until emotion was there no more.
"He survived the process, unlike his grandson," the witch replied to the prisoner. To Duncan, the Hylian soldier who had been missing since the Masquerade Festival and was throughout the 'Wanted' posters. A terrible smile reached her lips. "So which will you be, darling? Will you turn into a Redead, or will you finally become my Darknut? And even if you survived like he did, we wouldn't want your family to receive you back someday devoid of a soul, would we?"
Duncan squared his shoulders, and swiveled his gaze to the two, brilliant flames of light that had gathered into the lantern of the Poe. The loathsome creature too shone, empowered with the souls it had absorbed. Innocent people had been murdered, and all he could do was remain bound in his chains, like they were. And the old man… survived, she called it, yet. He was far past development of numbness - any trace left of him seemed entirely obsolete. It was a truly disturbing sight to spectate, seeing a person with absolutely no life in their eyes, while still being able to breathe and move. He was crawling obliviously in no direction, like an overgrown baby.
He thought he'd be able to resist the malicious magic of the sorceress for this long, but now, as he felt the galvanizing corruption of her power try to invade his mind again, he couldn't seem to fight back against it. The fear she had implanted was unquestionable, which wasn't only backed by witnessing someone psychotic, but also a psychopath. There was no hint of morality, unless it was something for her to manipulate. She did not hesitate for even a second when the museum owner pleaded her for mercy, nor for the screaming and dying boy. She would have no qualms doing the same to him and his own family.
For now he would succumb to her little game for the sheer need to survive and avoid his family being threatened. Was this even a choice? He could feel that her magic had gotten stronger, more forceful and heavy upon his mind. His consciousness was moving someplace far from his thoughts. Instead, he could focus on nothing but her command. For however long this would last, she had managed to get him to bow to her.
"How may I serve you, Mistress?" He submitted.
Violet eyes reaped on what she had accomplished so far. She tilted her staff in his direction, as darkened, enchanted scraps of metal swept from the weapon, to Duncan. Encasing him in a bouldered shroud that rearranged itself and took form. When the spell was over, he was standing in an ebony suit of armor. Darknut armor.
"Finally I have achieved the power to bend will, which I've been trying to work on for so long," she said in bated breath, avid with her progress.
You have, the voice fueled her ambition. But it'll wear off periodically. To master it will take more work. I will go over the maintenance and intricacies of keeping up with mind control as we go. For now, I want you to take a moment to observe your staff. With the death of the mortal boy and his living, but soulless grandfather - the cries of their souls are not only shared with the Poes, but within the whip that's now woven out of your staff. A lash of this will be able to pierce and sting through the toughest of armor, and I can only surmise the staff will grow stronger as we get more kills.
Cia strode across the room, and took a seat, scepter in hand. She ran her fingers through the tresses of the whip, feeling the dark magic surge through her. "It's perfect," she purred.
Once the foreign mortals are gone, he said smoothly. We'll deal with the Royal Family and their guardians. And even though I said we're going to keep a low profile, I can sense the barriers surrounding the princess have weakened, at the moment. Let's give her a little scare, shall we? In the dark of the night, evil will find her. If the king wants to play games with us, let us play too.
You walk with regal strides now
Upon your black and white tiled floors
Each square like the patterns of a chess board
Your favorite seat is what I now call your throne chair
You hold your staff as if it was a royal scepter
Wait until you see what it is capable of in battle
So take a seat, My Queen, like the chess piece that you are
We may have lost a Rook, but we'll have another you can practice on
Once you've mastered this power, you'll be ready to open the Gate of Souls and overtake many Pawns,
Then the twisted wizard and marked dragon will be forced as our Knights
And we'll bring back one of my loyal demon commanders and the twilight usurper - both shall be our Bishops
Our enemies will crumble before us
For in this game, I am the King, and I will emerge victorious
—
Volga dreamed of the princess again tonight.
They had been wonderful dreams; of special times having spent together, and of hopeful moments they had been cultivating with their bond. Of sharing intimacy and a union. As their kinship grew, the silhouettes of their precious children were now playing with family and friends. Everyone was together. Him, Zelda, her father, his clan, King Dodongo, Martel, Eveline, even Impa. They were all having a festive celebration of sorts, over a delicious feast by a fire. Laughing, chatting, and having a good time.
A silver serpent had been there as well, also as mostly a silhouette since he had no idea what the supposed, verbally-inclined being looked or sounded like. Well, beyond the little that could be envisioned. But since it potentially had knowledge of his mother and father, it was currently the closest connection he had to the presence of his parents being there in some way. If the acquaintances were around, he could not remember.
When the festivities had finished, Volga and Zelda tucked in their children and headed off to bed. Though it seemed as if they were in Eldin initially, the dream transitioned into a castle much like Hyrule's, except on mountains overlooking a spectacular sea. Zelda had been sleeping with Volga, her ringed finger between his own. So happy they were, their bare bodies wrapped in each other's arms, legs entangled together over the sheets and under the covers.
Then it was gone. Everything had faded but Zelda. The colors were spinning in the background, and Volga tried to reach for her hand that had been there a moment ago, but instead another hand found hers first.
"Come, My Queen, we need to leave our consorts behind for now," Prince Zeran urged, taking her away. "It is time we fulfill our promise."
A recognizable portal materialized, and with it, the horrifying sight of the chains stretched out and slithered across, searching for where Zelda disappeared to. Volga yanked at the chains to stop them from getting to her, which resulted in them to instead, turn to him. A blood-curling, demonic laughter echoed from the portal, causing every hair on his skin - and now scales, to prickle and armor himself. The chains attempted to ensnare his body, and drag him into the portal, but the dragon tossed and swung in a flurry of claws, teeth, and flames, fighting every step along the way.
Again, everything dissipated once more. This time, emerald eyes were met with the blank ceiling of his own quarters. He almost found himself searching worriedly for Zelda next to him, but of course, his bed was empty.
As the events of the dream began to process in his mind, he sat at the edge of the bed, and rested his head into his hands. His chest felt tight, and the ache that accompanied was no less welcoming, nor helpful to the physical strain he had put his body through recently. Thankfully, his pain-relieving poultice was still under effect, so he would not have to contend with the muscle spasms at their worst or his hand fracture jolts for at least twenty-two hours.
Volga made his way to the basin down the hall, and washed his face. The cold water stung at the thin streaks of damp heat on his skin. Willing his body's temperature to raise slightly, the water grew warm. That was better, though it didn't stifle the shaky exhale he had been holding back. Drying his face with the wash cloth, he headed back to his room, and put on his cloak over his sleepwear. He couldn't sleep, so he decided to settle for a walk.
He swung by one of the smaller medical rooms of the barracks, when a friendly face greeted him. The Goron was what Impa referred to as a 'bone doctor' and had been requested by both Zelda and the king to tend to Volga's recuperation.
"I hope Sir Volga is not in need of another adjustment so soon," the Goron said considerately. "But if you are, I can get that taken care of right away."
Volga shook his head gratefully. "That last shoulder displacement snap did wonders. I can pick up heavy things again without those sharp pangs all over."
"I heard the story of what happened with the spire. Your strength makes us Gorons proud," he beamed.
Then he grunted. "But no more extreme weight lifting for awhile, alright? At least of the buildings kind. If you try to lift another piece of structure like that again, I fear you may cause a disc herniation. We want your vertebrae to be healthy and in place. Man or dragon. The princess was very worried for you."
"No building structures for awhile, got it," Volga acknowledged. "I appreciate that she and her father brought you to help me. They told me you took care of many soldiers' bones and muscle tears in the previous war."
The Goron gave a dignified nod, and made a rocky fist to chest gesture. "Yes, Sir. And I personally adjusted the king's bone injuries too, including his chronic back ones. One day, I want to open up a healing spa in Eldin. I think between our restorative hot springs and my profession, it could be pretty successful, hm?"
Volga certainly didn't mind the idea of having one near his home. "I think that's a great idea. Thank you again, Daryun."
—
The castle grounds were icy today, not yet with snow, but dusted with flakes of frost along the grass. To what would have been a biting chill to most men wearing only sleepwear under a cloak, for Volga it was merely a distinct coolness, though not exactly preferable.
He found himself intuitively heading toward the courtyard where Zelda's balcony was. And there, was a Hylian soldier, no doubt the one patrolling tonight. The man was leaning against a lamp post, with his mouth slightly open, and as Volga approached, he noticed his eyes were closed. Asleep.
"I'm not sure it would do well for the castle to have their guard asleep on duty," Volga stated firmly, waking him.
The soldier gave a start, and blinked his eyes open. He looked out of it, and exhausted. "My apologies, Sir Volga. You're right, and I… accept the consequences if you wish to tell General Impa. I may not be the right man for the amount of days in a row she's had me scheduled here lately."
Volga frowned. "And how many days in a row has it been?"
"Tonight would be the fifteenth, I believe. I've lost track," he said tiredly. "I've not had a single day to rest or eat properly, and this chill hasn't made it easier on my bones."
This was rather unusual, even for Impa's strict standards. And certainly for the king's, after what they had gone through at the Valley of Seers to help the overworked humans. There was likely a discrepancy on the schedules that needed to be revised.
"I'll tell you what," said Volga thoughtfully. "Let me take care of tonight's patrol for this location. You go and get yourself a hot meal by the fire in the barracks. I left plenty of firewood there, so the soldiers are welcome to use it. If Impa gives you any trouble about it, request for me, and we'll all sit and discuss what's going on with your schedule."
The soldier gave Volga a look of sheer gratitude. "Oh, thank you, Sir Volga. You are most kind. There'll be another guard coming in a few hours for next shift, so you don't have to stay up all night."
With a salute, the relieved man hurried off to seek needed food and rest. Volga wasn't used to the new 'Sir' reference the people of Hyrule were giving him, especially when he still wasn't an official knight yet. But ever since the talk spread of what happened at the Valley of Seers, the trend had picked up, and they would only abstain from using it around the foreign royals. And there were those who didn't care and used it around them anyway. The newfound respect he had gained from Hyrule over time reached a peak he would never have imagined possible.
The Dragon Knight made a thorough sweep of the courtyard, lost in thoughts, before he arrived at Zelda's balcony.
As much as he wished to see her and talk to her, the oil lamp from her room seemed to be off. Nothing but the faint blue glow of her enchanted water flower could be seen. Volga assumed she was asleep, so he didn't want to wake her. Taking his spot at his favorite tree, he leaned his back against it, and stood guard.
—
The darkness had suddenly turned so blinding, that at first, Zelda thought the night had summoned the morning already.
Peculiar however, was there were no sunlit rays, no color at all in fact, except a cloudy white that stretched out indefinitely around her. Her eyes cruised down at the ground. All she could see was a misty water that stood level with her knees, shallow, though questionably deeper beyond. She could not feel the water itself, or the temperature, but she could hear the sloshing sounds of her feet splashing along as she walked onward.
Zelda thought she could make out a boat in the distance, which would make her surreal excursion more practical to get around. Seeing as there was nowhere else to go, she started to head toward the floating outline. With each step she took, the target seemed much further than it appeared. Unsettled, she pressed her hands together, to conjure her rapier. She could see the strands of light rise from her palms, but they did not take shape, as they were supposed to. No sword, not even an arrow with which she could try her bow - nothing. Her magic did not work properly here.
Something heavy bumped her shoulder, and she jumped - an organ floated past her, with broken keys that might not have been used in ages. She felt an increasing sense of foreboding… if that organ belonged to someone, could they be here, watching her? Where was she?
The princess was almost to the boat she had been trying to reach. When she passed by another buoyant object, she stiffened. This time, it was a rounded table with a chess board on it, black and white pieces all laying down, as if someone had knocked everything over in a frenzied rage.
She then froze. The boat, which had given that blurred impression from afar, was in fact, not a boat.
It was a tomb.
The stone slab was floating like the other objects she had seen, but not moving anywhere. Like there was some kind of malevolent force binding it there. She could not explain why, but her heart ached upon seeing this mysterious grave. It was so uncared for, something that had been abandoned at a funeral that no one attended. Whoever this was, she knew was dear to her. As much as she didn't want to discover who had been lost, she needed to confirm what she was seeing.
Zelda extended over to where the name of the individual would have been etched on the stone, but it was empty, like someone hatefully wanted to blotch out the name for the rest of histories. She skimmed her hand over any other text she could find, any hint, when suddenly, the white fog beneath her turned into a dark smoke. Whatever it was, it felt vile… wrong. It permeated all around her, and from above.
She looked up, and saw a shard radiating in a light so pure, that there may as well have been a divine entity within. Zelda carefully stepped back, her eyes attentive to the black smog that rose up and surrounded the fragment, sheathing its light in darkness and creating a spiraling portal.
With it, a familiar view of the ceiling in her bedroom resurfaced above her, and she thought she heard a crackling noise, vibrating the barrier of her walls. The smoky portal however, was still there, slowly spinning as a figure began emerging from within. He was armored in black, from helm to sabatons - his design parallel to classical statues she had seen of what an enemy captain might wear in ancient eras. He raised a heavy sword, and twisted it in his gauntlet so that it would face down. Down upon her from where she laid at her bed.
Zelda stared up in horror, her throat drying but managing a loud, sharp gasp. She rolled over and her hand immediately flew to her nearest weapon. This time, her light orbs took form of her rapier, as she cast the sword in front of her protectively. Whatever shadows she had seen or thought she had seen were no longer present, but she could tell there was a disturbance in the barrier. She restrengthened the ward, golden ether flowing from her fingertips, and sending ripples to the walls, reinforcing them with magic. Her rapier was still in her grasp shaking with the rest of her.
The commotion had not gone unnoticed, and soon enough the Dragon Knight appeared at her balcony's window. Zelda sprung out of bed, and stumbled over to him, to open.
"Zelda!" Volga called out to her. "I heard sounds, and saw your light. What happened?" the concern in his eyes followed to where she indicated.
"The…" she pointed above. Her ceiling currently looked perfectly still and unhinged, as if nothing had occurred, though that didn't make Volga any less cautious while he investigated. "P-portal, and something came out of it," she swallowed, arising a shared tension from this imagery. "Like those shadow assassins from the Masquerade Festival. But this one was heavily armored, and its sword was aimed above - above me. Maybe it was from my dream, though it -" she closed her eyes. "It was like having inner demons envisioning one of my fears, and manifesting into a terrible place that I wasn't supposed to get to. It felt real and surreal."
Volga paused from his search, and stepped toward her. She was shivering, whether it was from how cold it actually was, especially away from her covers - or from how she had frozen up since seeing that tomb. The dream was more like a nightmare, really, and Zelda could still vividly recall what she had witnessed in it. Of the mournful dread, if she was too late to save those she cared for.
Strong arms wrapped around her, his warmth chasing away the chill of the room, and soothing her tremors. "You're safe now," he murmured. "It's gone, but dream or no, I can inspect the roof and the halls near the room, just in case. Or stay with you longer and keep watch so you can get some more rest."
Zelda didn't want him to go, and she doubted she'd be able to sleep anytime soon. The glowing sword dissolved into particles of light and left her hold. She held him instead, fingers tugging behind his cloak affectionately and over his back. "Stay," she whispered.
Checking further would have to wait. Aside from there being nothing in the room at the moment - he wanted to be here for her. Zelda had a tough mental fortitude, but he could tell when she was frightened, or overwhelmed. People wouldn't usually get past her walls easily to be able to figure out something was wrong.
With him however, and how their bond was growing deeper, she was steadily becoming more at ease with opening herself to him. And though her mettle was flourishing, he found it welcoming when she let him in. He didn't want her to think that she'd be looked down upon during times of vulnerability, or that she had to restrict herself. So he communicated this in the way she knew, in the way they knew, which was one of the various ways they expressed to each other.
Volga supported the back of her head with his hand as if to guard her mind from being haunted by these inner demons, nightmares and otherwise. His other hand occasionally made circular motions along her back in their shared hold - reminiscent of the first time she had done it for him and shown how comforting that actually was.
"You feel nice and warm," Zelda mumbled against his chest, her body gradually slackening from how tense she had been a moment ago. "Whenever the flames from that fireplace over there diminishes while I'm sleeping, it seems as if it's freezing in here when I wake up. Particularly on cold nights like these."
"I do not wish for you to feel cold. Although. I'm quite content in being a personal heater for the princess," he teased.
"Oh I know," the crack of a smile surfaced. "Especially when it means more cuddle time."
"Especially cuddle time," he wholly agreed. It appeared they both had the same idea in mind when they glanced at the aforementioned fireplace in the lounge area near her bed. With an arm around her, the two headed over to the grate. The logs were charred from having burnt out at some point during her sleep. No wonder his dear was cold.
"I'll prepare a fire for you," he proposed, and at her gracious nod, she took a seat at the divan as Volga faced the grate.
He renewed the logs with more of the firewood he had chopped awhile back, then cupped his hands over his mouth like someone who was trying to breathe heat to their skin on a frigid day. His throat turned hot as he inhaled, then released, his hands making a gesture that was almost like blowing a kiss - and with it, wisps of dragon fire channeled from his mouth and into the grate. He maintained immaculate control of nothing else being targeted except the wood. A cozy hearth blazed in a sun-orange glow.
Her eyes invited him as he sat with her, while he invited her back into his arms. She was all the more inclined, though he sensed she was still troubled. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked. "And if you would rather not right now, I respect that too. Though I hope you share what you can, so I can better understand. I know you'd say you don't want to burden anyone, or with what you believe to be a dream. But you don't have to brave this one alone. This and anything you're willing to confront together."
"You know me too well, Volga," she felt his words come through to her, and she wanted to tell him more - only it was fairly daunting to process her thoughts right now. Zelda unfolded the fleece duvet throw, and Volga assisted in covering them as she half-sat, half-lay, sideways against his torso. Her legs stretched across his lap and she made sure he was comfortable - which he very much was.
The princess rolled up the sleeves of his night shirt, and tenderly strummed his arm, as his other arm draped around her with the duvet like a blanket hug. She briefly held up her hand. "You see this mark on my hand? Back when I had the dream about the assassination at the Masquerade Festival, this triangle lit up. Impa said it could have been a prophetic warning, which reincarnations of the goddess were said to occasionally experience in dreams. Sure enough, we ended up having to deal with the assassins."
"Your mark lit up after our dance too," Volga recalled. He held her hand, and brushed a finger over the triangle. "Even now it seems to be shining - dimly but, enough to show this shape on your hand that is usually not there. Is this -?"
Zelda nodded. She had been evasive about that incident at the time, which wasn't that unusual since he was a masked stranger then and she had the safety of the whole ballroom to tend to. But she hadn't talked about the mark, and neither did he ask. Now she was willing to trust this information with him.
"I believe my Triforce of Wisdom has been awakening."
This plausible statement raised concern. "Are you sure? Could this be mostly due to the visions in your dreams that you mentioned or because of the other cryptic incidents going on?"
"See, the goddesses never left us a manual on Triforce dream interpretations," she said wryly. "The assassination dream wasn't detailed, but it was enough for me to deduce that blonde women were being targeted in the attempt to pursue me among a festival of masks. The dream I had tonight, on the other hand, was more vague. It felt less about my life being on the line, and more so about me being too late to save another's life. Either in the context of failing to save someone s-special to me, or my kingdom as a whole. The… the place didn't look like anywhere I've seen before in the castle or in Hyrule either."
She sought to make sense of the location. "It looked like some other dimension or. Like the vast emptiness that limited archives described of a sacred realm. Or maybe I was merely seeing symbolism and metaphors meant to represent something else. But yes, I do suspect the dreams and the strange things going on like what I was told happened at the Valley of Seers - could be connected to the relic."
"You should tell Impa and your father about this too," he suggested. "Especially if it could be connected to your visions. They might know something we don't from what you saw."
"I will," she agreed. It would be the first matter she'd bring up with them tomorrow morning.
"So the legends are true after all,'' he reflected. Understanding echoed in his tone and uneasiness brought faint lines on his forehead. "When Hyrule is going to face danger, the Blood of the Goddess and the Spirit of the Hero are awakened to help save the kingdom."
They watched the flames flicker in the fireplace, and Zelda spoke up, not appearing particularly keen on this monumental role. "I…" she said with a sigh. "I had hoped I wouldn't be the one. That such dangers wouldn't occur during my time as ruler. Perhaps it sounds selfish, like I would have wished this upon someone else. Truthfully, I would prefer if such a curse was placed on no one. Because that's what this is."
Volga kissed her hand, and a pleasant sensation swept across her skin and the Triforce piece outline. "In a way, we're both marked now, aren't we? I may not be the Spirit of the Hero, Princess - but I will fight for you and your kingdom until my last breath."
Remembering the death from her nightmare, she paled. "Let's… let's hope it doesn't come to that, alright?" she said, giving his uninjured hand a protective squeeze, and feeling her throat constrict. "I already worry when you get hurt for me and father, despite your knightship duties. I d-don't want to lose you," her voice wavered and her face burrowed under the clasp of his cloak, like a shield over his steady beats.
"Hey," he said softly. "I'm here." they both tightened their hold slightly. "Is this one of your fears? Of being too late to save Hyrule and those close to you?"
Zelda looked up at him, and though he could see her vulnerability, she didn't feel a need to withdraw into her defenses so quickly. She felt like she could have a normal conversation on deeper levels without fretting over being perceived as weak or incapable.
"When I lost my mother," she said in a calm solemnity. "I was too young but I figured something out. Father blamed himself for years. He was convinced that she would never have had to sacrifice herself if he got to her in time and killed the demon commander sooner. I know we can't always control situations like that. But as I've been growing older, I've found myself questioning if I can really be a strong woman like my mother was. If I too, might be late to save lives like my father thought he was. It's a fear I can't really overcome other than to keep trying to improve, even though I mess that up sometimes."
Volga listened and figured Zelda must have dismissed these thoughts so that they would not discourage her from being able to perform her royal expectations. "I can relate to fear of loss," he told her, remembering time and time again of that almost petrifying feeling in those fleeting seconds where Zelda or her father were in danger of being lost forever. "It's one of the reasons I've trained and learned as much as I have. And when I'm trying to improve at something, I mess up too. You know how many times I've fallen down while trying to get the hang of horseback? Torkil would be in a fantastic mood all day if he knew."
Their lips curled in amusement, and a kind expression crossed her features. "I might not understand why humans think using a horse and a stick should be rewarding things like territory and weapons," he tried to reason. "But I know winning this competition means another layer of defense for Hyrule. Another day children can wake up without being scared of monsters or their family going missing. Another night my lady can sleep on her own without her nightmares becoming real. Though I. Would hold her through the night anyway, if I could."
Volga…
"That's why," he said determinedly. "Each time I bucked off to the ground, I'd get right back up. And try again. I place much of my confidence in knowing myself to give everything I can to protect those important to me. You are more than just motivating - with you, I'm finding more and more of who I want to be."
"Same," her eyes glimmered in the firelight. "Even just opening up to each other like this… it's so very freeing, Volga."
"It is. So let us confront these doubts of yours," he coaxed. "Don't worry about how big or small they might seem. Anything that comes to mind, feel free to tell me. My strength is with you, as I surely am to lift you up," this statement held a more special connotation coming from her dragon man. "And you are stronger than you give yourself credit for."
I feel your strength, and more, her fingers rested on his heart. It shines through and resonates with all of me. I may not be able to get all my thoughts into words but I will try this.
"You know what I had to do here when you all went to the Valley of Seers?"
Volga thought back to when Impa and the king had given Zelda those tasks. "They had asked you to participate in the throne room and judge trials," he said. "And to fortify magical barriers around the castle. Which. Could your magic have worn off in your room when you had that nightmare?"
Zelda instinctively attuned herself to how the ward was now. Thankfully, it was quite potent compared to before she had woken up. "I was so committed to making sure the rest of the castle was protected, that by the time I collapsed on my bed, I was too drained to put much left into my room. And I usually do barrier, especially before I sleep, but this night in particular had slipped away. It's like whatever forces out there were waiting for the opportunity, even if through a nightmare."
"I'll help remind you," he gave her neck a rub, heating just a tad, to stimulate circulation and soothe tension. "Could the trial judging be contributing to the fatigue?"
His ministrations and words were alleviating her body and mind. "Judging trials in particular have a fine line between justice and vengeance," she replied. "People act like they want every accused individual to be sent to the gallows. If I don't conform, I would be seen as weak, and if I do, I would be seen as ruthless. Then when I request for a deeper investigation to get more concrete evidence, especially regarding actual criminal accusations - I'm seen as passive. I can't win, and I'm finding that I can't make everyone happy. If it wasn't bad enough, I had nothing to give Duncan's family regarding his whereabouts."
"There are search parties and posters out there because you raised that priority level," Volga reminded her. "I don't think some royals in your position would have invested the time into one soldier as promptly. You care for your people. You've made more happy than not."
"I want them to feel secure. Back in the masquerade, when I initially faced that shadow assassin… you know what the first thing I did was? I hid. I was terrified, and hid, like a coward. Sure, I eventually fought him, but that hesitation did not make me feel like the fearless ruler I was supposed to be. Volga, I couldn't even kill a stupid pigeon during one of my hunts with Chief Drem-Se," she scoffed. "All I could do was keep making a fool of myself in front of him. It's things like these that build up my doubts about the parts of me that seem inept."
Volga stroked along her shoulder blades. "You know, after the incident in the museum, children and their families came up to me and spoke of you with high regard and gratitude. They were among the many people we've helped in the course of our travels. Zelda, you are someone treasured, and even with those who are giving you difficulty, know this. I treasure every part of you - the woman who didn't want to kill a pigeon, and the woman who stopped a carnivorous plant from killing a human. The woman who burnt food while trying to learn to cook, to feed a hungry village with her dad. And the same I look forward to sharing what I know with her, next time we're at my home in the kitchen. Which is her place too. Will she give me the honor?"
It was like a leap of unrestrained jubilation rose through her, and with it, she sat up onto his lap, and threw her arms around Volga in an enthusiastic embrace. The feel of her, and seeing her happy, was pleasing to him. That familiar elation rekindled, perking him sensually as her lips made contact. Words were caught up in the moment, yet delivered a heartening "yes!" and so much more.
He loved it when she did that; there was something incredibly sweet in the way she'd dash into his arms when she greeted or missed him, like when he returned from his trip. How cute she was, and her little huffs while trying to royally handle her way through, for she couldn't always wait. Even if it meant being beckoned behind secluded shrubberies, because she couldn't contain how much she looked forward to seeing him. This wasn't some blind clinginess. It was a transparent desire to unite and rejoice, in a requited love that neither wanted to hold back.
She did not find a necessity to reprimand herself any more tonight. Volga's perspective had refreshed her confidence. Their openness made her feel light, like she could take flight anywhere she wished. With him.
Zelda knew some rest would be needed to function tomorrow, but she wanted to enjoy this closeness with him too.
"Volga," she brought her hand to his collar, and slowly unfastened the clasp of his cloak. "Sleep with me."
—
Although her room had a semblance of peace now compared to earlier, and Zelda herself was more relaxed - he hesitated. They had napped together several times, but this was a more personal and intimate setting. He wanted to make sure she felt comfortable, both within her royal customs of what sharing a bed with someone meant, and with what she wanted to believe.
He considered his own views of this too, and his upbringing. Of course with his reptilian clan, sleeping or engaging with a mate wouldn't be seen as a big deal, regardless of where they slumbered. The carefree aspect was a start, but to him it held meaning, and certainly privacy, not near the next alcove of mates. At least her door was locked so they wouldn't have to anticipate someone bursting through under ordinary circumstances. She had cast a sound ward too, which was on a timer until she would fall asleep. Precautions aside, they would just be laying down together, wouldn't they? There wasn't anything wrong with that.
If something more did happen, may that be tonight or another time, Volga believed that it would be because they were ready to. He could not deny how fulfilling it would be to share that kind of intimacy, and wake up together - to experience this beyond just dreams and imagination. But they would go at their own pace, and he would be attentive to her signals. Taking the lead was something they shared, not exclusive to one or the other. For now, he needed her reassurance, and not all his confidence in the world could convince him otherwise. She was aware of the power she had in how she affected him, and was considerately proficient in taking matters into her own hands.
He laid with her on the grand, regal bed that actually did seem to be intended for two. The silken sheets were almost as soft as her skin, but not as warm - though they would be soon enough. His back reclined on the mattress, and once they got settled, he felt the princess spoon against his side. Her head and arm rested on his pounding chest. The press of her body against him was simultaneously calming and exciting.
"I've been wanting to spend nights with you like this," there was a dreamy sincerity in her voice, as her fingers deftly unbuttoned his sleepwear. "And to wake with you. Skin to skin. To feel all of you, and be close."
Volga completely identified with this, but to hear her voice these mutual cravings was something he had not realized how badly he needed. His night shirt was removed and set aside somewhere at the foot of the bed, as he absently obliged. She shifted over him slightly and bent forth, to place a wake of kisses down his neck, her warm breathing tickling behind his ear from where she had started. He shivered, surely not from cold, the sensation maddening enjoyable. The reactions stirred throughout him, and he'd almost allowed himself to fully relish the moment - until his goosebumps firmed into scales.
They weren't spiky or protruding like they would be in battle at times. These were relatively flattened bumps, but fluctuated over his outer arms in an assorted trail. He would not subject her to that.
Zelda had seen his bare upper body before, but Volga couldn't recall if those had been out at the time. Her hand didn't retreat, and instead came to a still - not out of wanting to halt her affections, but because she had felt him flinch when he noticed the scales.
"It's temporary," he scowled at the sight of it, like it had been some inconvenient blemish. "They occasionally bump out of a strong reaction my body might be having, like when skin briefly prickles or when hair stands up. So I end up getting a few scales too, even though I'm still mostly skin. It also," he said quietly. "Speckles down my outer legs and back sometimes but that's it. I'm trying to work on getting that under control so you won't have to feel that weirdness, and only skin."
"It's not weird to me," she said in a small voice.
Several scales retreated back into his skin, as he succeeded in clearing them from one of his arms. "See, I can do it," he demonstrated, feeling a need to prove it for the both of them. "I just need to make it preventative, rather than only being able to make them disappear after they come out."
You don't have to do that, not for me…
"And if you," he spluttered. "If you need more time to get used to me, or if anything is ever uncomfortable to you, please tell me. I want to be close to you too. In… in all ways. But I would stop immediately if you wanted me to."
Zelda knew in her heart that he would. She also knew that she would never want him to cease for something like this. He was about to resume descaling his other arm when her hand touched his shoulder, where his skin met scales. "Dragon is a part of you. And I," she kissed the smooth bumps, and felt him tremble, a delight enhanced beyond being accepted. "Love every part of you. Whether you get them to disappear sometimes or not, I want you to feel what is most comfortable to you as well, whenever you'd like."
Something inside his chest soared. The feeling glided across his stomach in molten flutters, and intensified below, as she mounted over him and leaned down. Volga captured her lips hungrily, elevated into a state of euphoria that brimmed with the continuous joy that the princess bestowed upon him. His hand moved behind her back, the cashmere feel of her skin teasing him from the exposed part of her gown. He felt the lace strings and gradually began to untie, like she did him, giving her time to say something in case she wasn't prepared for that, but she had given him all the cues to continue. Her hips swayed against his, and he groaned with yearning.
"Zelda, I'm not sure I c-can resist you," he half implored, half advised. "I mean I can control myself, but not that poke."
"I like your poke," she gave a mischievous grin, her legs straddling his sides, and gently rolling her hips. "Like when I was on your lap, and other times. Mmm, you feel good," she pressed down, covering his bulge under her gown. Though they were clothed, the contact was insanely pleasurable, and he found himself moving his hips back longingly into hers - building an urgency and relief that went back and forth, growing stronger with repeated friction. He could feel her heat seep through, her desire, and it drove him into a passionate fervor.
Volga flipped them over, and heard her gasp his name as his lips descended on a sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. There, he nibbled lightly and felt her body shimmy beneath him. The lace strings he had been trying to undo earlier had lowered more of her gown, alluring cleavage that he traced with a finger, then to her curves over the gown. Fascinated, he fondled her softness, and brushed against delicate bumps of her own. They perked from his touch, throughthe fabric - and she let out a breathy moan.
The sound shot to his groin, and heightened his desire to please her. He wanted to slide his hand under and touch. His mind was everywhere right now; his hands wanted to wander, to feel her, and taste. To see her happy and in pleasure, which she was, and he wanted to take her into greater heights, together. He could scarcely believe this was happening right now, and as thrilled as he was, something was telling him to pause for a moment.
She sensed this too, and searched his eyes. His passion was aflame, and it seemed to take an astounding willpower that he did not know he had - to be able to temper the fire. "I want to make love to you," he said huskily, and something in his gaze shone, in a radiance that reminded her of the sun upon a shining sea. "But I don't know if that's something you feel ready to do yet, or if you'd want your… your first time to be tonight, after what you went through. If you wanted this experience to be a special day to you, I wanted to make sure. Or if we needed more time for anything else."
Zelda was certain she felt more emotions going through her than she could properly rationalize, but her bashfulness with herself was subtle in contrast to the love and admiration she felt for this man. For this part of him that was very much a man, and that held back for her like a patient lover. For all that he was that made him uniquely him.
Was she ready? Her heart and body had been opening to the idea of this over time, and tonight she had allowed herself to go a little further. And it felt amazing, truly. She didn't see herself regretting the decision if they had gone all the way. It wasn't as if she was unprepared… she had been under her birth control potion, after all. She had told Volga this when he had divulged to her about the dragonkind being able to reproduce with people. And while she didn't necessarily envision her first time to coincide after a nightmare on the same night, it didn't mean that had to be their only special time.
"I think," she said thoughtfully. "I trust your pause and our time to continue. If tonight was meant to have been our first, it would have been, and it would be as special to me as other times we would make love. Which I want to with you," she said boldly, the heat rising to her cheeks mirroring his. "We're both learning and exploring, getting used to one another in this way. Feeling each other, and more to come as we get more confident and comfortable. With other chances we get to keep going until we feel ready. Though I don't want to keep us waiting much longer. I want to be free with you."
Zelda could feel his pulse race, and turned with him on the bed so that they were on their sides, still facing one another. She curled up against him, with an arm around his back, caressing skin and scales. Her leg rested on his, hoping this wouldn't be too hard for him to resist. She did not want him to feel like he had to resist.
"Is this alright?" she asked tentatively.
This was… better than anything he could have ever imagined. The feel of her was both arousing and alleviating, but gods, he wanted this. Once he brought his arms around her, he didn't want to be anywhere else.
—
Author's Note: Tried my hand at a bit of soft core writing, I hope it wasn't silly or boring. Better yet, I hope it was at least a little enjoyable and conveyed what I was trying to convey as their bond is deepening. If you feel this was more M than T, please let me know via dm so I can make adjustments and keep the soft core + to AO3 and chop those parts away from DA and FF. So far I haven't had to chop off anything yet. Anyway, reviews are welcomed!