55. Here Comes the Bride
"This…is fine," Mozenrath said in a shaking voice. "It's fine." He forced stability tinto his tone. "So the only gateway to an otherwise inaccessible dimension is gone. This is fine. There is a way around this. We can get around this. It's FINE."
"How is this fine?" Demyx asked flatly.
"Working on it," Yzma muttered.
"There has to be some way to restore the mirror," Mozenrath muttered, beginning to pace back and forth. "It was built once in the first place. It can be built again."
"It was built by the goddesses," Wuya reminded him, "and as much as Yzma and I may look like goddesses, we actually aren't."
"Are you even TRYING to help?" Mozenrath barked at her. He returned to his pacing, refusing to look at anyone else; "It can't be more than a piece of glass infused with enchantments. All we have to do is figure out who in Hyrule has knowledge of how to forge it and force them to bend to our will."
"I've almost got a better plan!" Yzma announced.
"No," Roman said flatly. "You don't."
Mozenrath turned back to face Roman, Yzma, Wuya, Irmaplotz, Zevon, and Demyx. "Really, finding out the magical knowhow we need should be a simple affair," he announced. "Wuya, what is the traditional government of Hyrule? I'm hoping to hear monarchy."
"It was when I last left it," Wuya replied. "Of course, that was fifteen hundred years ago. But the kingdom was mostly in the hands of an absolutely intolerable princess."
"Princess," Mozenrath repeated. "Princess is good. If there is still a princess, then all we need to do is take her hostage. We can use these grounds as our base and send out our demands from here. Either someone tells us how to fix the mirror, or we dispose of the princess or adequately substituting royal figure permanently. Though really, my hopes are on princess."
"Why?" Irmaplotz asked, already sure she knew the answer and wasn't going to like it.
"Because princesses are always easier to keep under control," Mozenrath informed her. "They might kick and scream, but they're mostly defenseless, and once you have them confined, there's really nothing they can do to harm you."
"Okay, as a princess, I'm legitimately offended," Irmaplotz told him.
"Go ahead and zap him one for that," Wuya encouraged.
"No," Mozenrath attempted, "don't – "
Irmaplotz tapped him on the nose; "Boop!" A surge of magic flowed through her fingertip into his face and jolted his entire body.
Once Mozenrath had shaken it off, he sighed. "As I was saying, the princess should be relatively easy to control – "
"Hey, Righty?" Roman broke in. "Not to burst your bubble, but the only princess we know you had actual experience with has been on the team that kicked our ass every time we ran into them. I'm starting to think you're not a big authority on princesses."
"THAT DOESN'T MAKE KIDNAPPING ONE A BAD IDEA," Mozenrath asserted.
Wuya snorted.
"Is there a problem?" Mozenrath inquired.
"Oh, nothing," Wuya remarked. "Just that kidnapping the princess was always Ganondorf's mode of operation, and I was hoping to move in a more independent direction."
"Well, I don't hear anyone having a better plan," Mozenrath retorted.
"I HAVE A BETTER PLAN!" Yzma announced, holding one hand high, index finger extended.
"No, you don't!" Roman insisted.
"At least hear my mother out!" Zevon grumped.
"All right," Mozenrath sighed, turning to Yzma. "I'll humor you. But the minute it turns stupid, I'm not listening anymore."
Yzma clasped her hands together. "First, we acquire yard upon yard of tinfoil."
"Aaaaaaand we're back to kidnapping royalty," Mozenrath announced.
"I kinda wanted to know where she was going with the tinfoil thing," Irmaplotz admitted.
"Listen, Wuya," Mozenrath stated firmly. "Taking royal hostages may have been the calling card of your evil ex. But that's because it works. It's a time-tested plan that has always netted results for any villain worth his salt."
"You really don't read many fairy tales, do you?" Roman tried to interrupt.
He was ignored. "The bottom line is this," Mozenrath told Wuya. "You can either avoid doing what works because it reminds you of a bad breakup. Or you can take this opportunity to do it better than Ganondorf ever could. Be more efficient, put the stakes higher, and when it comes time to turn her in for the knowledge of the mirror, you can make the call as to how many pieces we send her back in. If you can't join 'em…beat 'em."
"I suppose you have a point," Wuya mused. "There's still no telling if there actually still is a princess to capture. But there should be SOME member of the ruling class who will be missed. All right. We'll do it."
"Just lead the way," Mozenrath told her, arms spread wide.
"Lead the way?" Demyx groaned. "Are we going to have to walk all the way across the desert again? Are we going to have to go through the BUGS again?" He plopped down into a sitting position, folding his legs into a pretzel. "If that's what's up, I'm staying right here."
"Not necessarily," Mozenrath told him. "Now that we've covered some ground, we can cut some corners." He cast a Corridor.
"Right," Demyx realized. "I almost forgot about that." He stood once more.
"TO ABDUCTATE A HOSTESSAGE!" Zevon cried as he bolted into the Corridor.
"TO ABDUCT A HOSTAGE, WITH PROPER GRAMMAR!" Irmaplotz yelled as she followed.
Soon, all seven were through, standing once more at the edge of the Gerudo Desert. Now they faced the opposite direction of the Arbiter's Grounds, noting how the land tapered off into a great basin below, offering a stunning view of the entire nation. Wuya pointed to a congregation of intricate structures, a castle surrounded by smaller businesses and abodes, nestled at the very heart of the land. "That's where we want to go," she announced. "Castle Town."
"Creative name," Irmaplotz mocked.
Wuya stalked off in the direction of the aptly named town, and her allies followed. Demyx muttered "We need some tunes" before summoning his sitar into hand, his walk turning into somewhat of a waddle as he balanced the instrument but still enough to keep pace with the others. He plucked at the strings, finding a suitable song to punctuate the journey.
When one travels the worlds as often as Demyx had done, one picks up a repertoire of music; one also discovers that some music is common across multiple worlds due to parallel natures. The song Demyx began to play just so happened to be one familiar to Roman. "You know, I can't believe I'm saying this," Roman told him, "but you actually have good taste."
"I know!" Demyx replied.
He and Roman began to sing the song together. While Demyx was apt at carrying tunes, Roman's voice, as per usual, was only barely in the range of the appropriate key.
"You sound absolutionally dissonancecordant!" Zevon groaned.
"Roman, stop," Mozenrath sighed.
Roman only took a quick break from his song to say "Fuck you" before picking up right where he'd left off.
The song, Mozenrath, Wuya, and Yzma realized, was one they'd heard many times before from Roman playing it around the base. Upon this knowledge, they all looked to each other.
"You're not thinking…" Mozenrath began.
"You said it yourself," Wuya told him. "If you can't join 'em, beat 'em."
"A-ONE!" Yzma counted in. "A-TWO! A-ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR!"
Technically, it was joining rather than beating, but as Mozenrath, Wuya, and Yzma joined forces to sing the same song, they vocally drowned out Demyx and Roman.
All the while, Mozenrath was doing his best to ignore the part of his mind that the Huntsman had firmly planted a staff in. It still felt as though something was thrown out of balance; as though part of Mozenrath was absolutely empty. But that feeling had to pass, he thought. The Huntsman most likely didn't care about him, so he wasn't going to care about the Huntsman. He didn't need the Huntsman to pull off a proper hostage situation, and he was about to prove it.
In short, it was fine.
...
The Huntsman was trying to ignore an emptiness of his own creation. He felt he was doing a fair job at it. Upon hearing that Mozenrath, Yzma, Wuya, and Roman had left on an element collection mission without him, opting to take Zevon, Irmaplotz, and even Demyx, he told himself he didn't care. Had he been invited, he would have refused, and he knew they knew that. His severance from their friendship would soon set in fully, and he would no longer care.
For now, there was still a lingering sentiment he couldn't quite name, but if it couldn't be named, it obviously wasn't worth entertaining.
The sound of the intercom crackling throughout the base caught his attention. A familiar baritone became clearly audible: "…to the control room at once. Wait, no…ah, there we are! Now it's working! Infernal device…" There was the loud clearing of a throat. "Will the Huntsman and Mr. Vexen report to the control room at once? The Huntsman and Mr. Vexen are to report to the control room at once!"
Archibald Snatcher, the Huntsman thought. What did he want? He didn't much feel like obeying orders, but he had resolved to follow logic rather than his feelings, and logic dictated that he should at least hear his co-worker's proposition out.
Vexen obviously felt similarly, for the pair found themselves entering the control room, which seemed to be the usual point of departure for a mission nowadays, as Snatcher awaited them in the center. "Gentlemen!" Snatcher addressed. "Precisely the men I wished to see!"
"What do you want, Snatcher?" Vexen barked.
"I've a proposition," Snatcher announced. "As you well know, a faction of our forces has gone to collect the next required magical artifact for our purposes. However, it seems they've neglected perhaps the more important mission at hand. Something I'm sure you'll agree is vital to our operations."
"Out with it," the Huntsman snapped.
"Time and time again," Snatcher explained, "we've been foiled by mere children. True, yes, there have been adults among them. Yet their leader is but a youth with half a brain. There seems to be one small faction spearheading the missions that come into conflict with our own, and yet, at the same time, Mr. Vexen has reported back that there are in fact many more allies of theirs waiting in the wings. How much do we in fact know about our foes? How many of them can we expect to fight in days to come? What manner of sorcery and weaponry can they bring to combat our own? These are questions that cannot be neglected."
"You are suggesting reconnaissance upon their base of operations," Vexen realized. "Quite astute. I can provide you with somewhat adequate knowledge regarding the Radiant Garden Restoration Committee and the Keybearer's immediate friends, but these new additions to their ranks are a matter of concern. The party I met with upon the Balmera had only one recognizable face and a slew of warriors with variegated powers. We would do well to know what we are up against. And provided they have not abandoned Radiant Garden, which I highly doubt they would do, we know exactly where they all gather."
"This does seem a worthy pursuit," the Huntsman added. "However, I don't see how you expect us to be able to examine them. We lack a proper method of surveillance."
"I suggest infiltration," Snatcher stated with a confident smile.
"After the World of Twelve, they will be expecting Madame Frou Frou," the Huntsman reminded him.
"Which is why Madame Frou Frou won't be the one to knock upon their door," Snatcher explained. "It shall instead be a wandering hero by the name of…'Nikolai' sounds good at the moment…looking to join their ranks."
"You aren't taking on the guise of a woman," the Huntsman said with slight surprise.
Snatcher sighed. "Sacrifices will have to be made, and that is one. However, a male persona has its benefits. Now, I'm not suggesting the both of you follow suit. You could stake out a reasonable vantage point whilst I relay intelligence to you via scroll."
"You hardly know how to work a scroll," the Huntsman reminded him.
"I've gotten much better at it!" Snatcher said defensively. "In fact, I do believe I've mastered the art! As you two hide, and I'm certain Mr. Vexen knows the ins and outs of the town enough to choose a proper hiding place, I would contact you and let you know everything I discover. However, SHOULD one or more of you want to join me in observing from the inside…"
"That sounds absolutely unappealing," Vexen grunted.
"Quite a shame, that," Snatcher told him. "'Twas you I was thinking in particular to join me. As I cannot take the mantle of a woman, it would only make sense for you to do so."
"ME?" Vexen snapped. "What sense do I make as a female?"
"You've the long and glorious tresses of hair," Snatcher pointed out. "The slender waist, the proper shape of the hips…you'd be quite convincing, really. Wouldn't be hard to find a gown that would flatter you."
"Personal grievances aside," Vexen groaned, "my face would be instantly recognizable by anyone on the Committee. I absolutely refuse to dress as a woman for your scheme on those grounds."
"Hey, uh…I know I'm interrupting…"
The fourth voice pierced the conversation; Snatcher, Vexen, and the Huntsman all directed their attention to the doorway from which it had come. Garfield leaned against the frame, giving a casual wave.
"What are you doing here?" the Huntsman asked accusatorily.
"Wanted to see what was up," Garfield told him.
"So you were eavesdropping," Vexen sniffed.
"You are aware curiosity killed the cat," Snatcher added.
"Well, I'm no cat," Garfield responded. "I am one hundred percent firefly. And if you guys need somebody to dress in drag and figure out the scoop from the inside, I could be your man."
"Why do I have the feeling you just want to wear the skirt?" Vexen accused.
"Is that really so wrong?" Garfield responded. "Peter already got to. It's long past my turn. Besides, I think we all know Red Hat here can't really work a phone."
"I most certainly CAN!" Snatcher argued.
"Well, I've been using a cell way longer than you have," Garfield reminded him. "And whatever world you're going to, you already know they won't know me."
"You never did run into any of that faction on the Balmera," Vexen recalled. "And when you did encounter hostiles, you were masked."
"You do know the facial hair would have to go," Snatcher asserted.
"Sacrifices, right?" Garfield replied. "Just let me be Bridgit Pike and we'll call it good."
"Nikolai Pike," Snatcher muttered. "Doesn't quite roll off the tongue, but I can make it work."
"What, you wanna play us as a couple?" Garfield asked.
"Father and daughter," Snatcher clarified. "The dynamic just seems to be fitting."
"So Iceman and Skullface go hide," Garfield reiterated, "while you and I start rubbing elbows with the hero wannabes."
"This plan seems sound," the Huntsman admitted.
"I must agree," Vexen said with a nod.
Snatcher's smile widened. It was all going to plan. True, the current draft of the plot required him to be separated from the Huntsman and Vexen for quite some time, but in the end, he knew, he would find time to corner them and talk some sense into both of them. First, of course, came the matter of turning Garfield into a presentable woman.
"Before we do anything else," Snatcher announced, "we've got to get you fixed up for your debut, Mr. Lynns. Once preparations have been completed, shall the four of us depart?"
"Yes," the Huntsman said with a nod.
"I shall provide the Corridor," Vexen added.
"Very good," Snatcher said, mostly to himself, as he moved toward Garfield, gesturing to the other man to follow him down the hall. "Very, very good indeed."
...
Mozenrath's attempts to block out the lingering feelings the Huntsman had left him with were growing weaker and weaker. There were only so many miles you could walk while simultaneously having a sing-along, and eventually, even Demyx had gotten tired of playing the sitar, though that seemed to be the activity he could do for the longest period of time without complaining. Mozenrath was left to go over his thoughts again and again, replaying the conversations he'd had with the Huntsman – both alone and among the greater group – and trying to find some lick of sense within them. Did the Huntsman really put so little value on Mozenrath's life? Did he truly think all that had happened between them meant nothing? And what was going to happen next? Would he get tired of the WHAM ARMY and return to solo work?
As Mozenrath stewed over these questions, Irmaplotz retrieved a bundle of threads from a pocket and began to weave while walking.
"Is that macramation?" Zevon asked in interest, looking over her shoulder.
"Macramé," Irmaplotz corrected.
"That's what I said."
"Well, it is," Irmaplotz answered, her face lighting up once Zevon took the interest. "I'm making an owl."
"An owl!" Zevon repeated. "That's going to look adoratiable!"
"Really?" Roman sighed. "REALLY?"
"Are you bestoweathing a name upon this owl?" Zevon asked.
"I was thinking of 'Lady Hootella von Hootsworth!'" Irmaplotz said excitedly.
"I love that name!" Zevon complimented. "You know, I tried macramation myself a few times, but I could never get the hang of it."
"It's easy!" Irmaplotz insisted. "I'll show you!"
She put strands into Zevon's hands, teaching him how to weave the proper patterns.
The discussion of arts and crafts was growing too mundane for Mozenrath to stand when in fact, there were such serious matters to discuss as the Huntsman's complete and utter betrayal of his relationship to Mozenrath, and if the contingent hadn't crossed the gateway into Castle Town at that moment, Mozenrath would have made an outburst about the subject. But as it were, Yzma asked, "So, Wuya, is it like you remember?", and that changed the subject to the mission at hand, which was even higher priority and a sufficient distraction.
Wuya glanced upward at the towering architecture that framed the cobblestone streets. "It's changed," she remarked, "but not by much."
The entire city seemed to be in the throes of celebration; people scurried hastily from here to there with great smiles and outbursts of laughter rather than milling about or walking with the focus required for completion of errands. Everyone seemed to be dressed up in colorful and formal-looking attire, and most people ended up heading in the direction of the castle. Great banners bearing the Hylian royal crest, a complex winged symbol topped off with a triangle cut into three even parts with a fourth hollowed out, were stretched across the upper reaches of the buildings.
"Looks like there's some kind of party going on," Demyx observed. "How's that for recon?"
"I think any dumbass could tell you there's a party," Roman said flatly. "You really wanna impress us? Tell us what kind of party it is."
"You're on," Demyx said as he hurried to catch up to a gaggle of civilians all decked out in blue.
"Well, let's see if he actually wants to do his job for once," Mozenrath groaned.
"Hey!" Demyx said casually as he sidled up to his targets. "This sure is exciting, isn't it?"
"It sure is!" a young woman replied.
"You think they'll have cake?" Demyx asked, hoping to seem innocuous.
"Of course!" the young woman insisted. "What kind of wedding would it be without cake?"
"A pretty stupid one," Demyx told her, mentally filing the information he'd just gotten. "Anyway, hoping to dance with the bride."
The young woman gave him a wide-eyed stare. "You really think she'll dance with you?"
"Why wouldn't she?" Demyx replied, making sure to keep his tone light; he could always claim he was joking if he went down a road he shouldn't have. "I'm a pretty good dancer."
"But she's the PRINCESS," the young woman emphasized. "Everyone's going to want to dance with her!"
So there was a princess, Demyx thought. Mozenrath would be happy to hear that, though it sounded like he gravely underestimated what a woman of the blood royal was able to do to defend herself. Then again, Maleficent had apparently managed to capture seven of them with no trouble a year prior. Demyx then wanted names, and thought about how he could discreetly poke at the subject. "I dunno," he said. "I'm still gonna go for it. It's actually kinda too bad she's married off now."
"What, are you going to try to hit on Princess Zelda?" the young woman laughed.
There, Demyx thought. He'd gotten the name and hadn't even had to pry too much. Now to get the name of her betrothed. "I'm just kidding around," he said as he playfully elbowed the young woman's upper arm. "I'm more of a gentleman than that! Besides, the groom seems like a cool dude."
"He does!" the young woman agreed. "I've never seen him, but I hear he and Zelda are just perfect for each other. I also hear he's dreamy!"
Maybe Demyx should have led with a line about wanting to catch the groom's eye rather than the bride's, he thought. That was much more accurate to how he actually worked, anyhow. "Can't trust everything you hear," he said. "What if he's really a big ugly jerk?"
"Zelda would never marry a jerk," the young woman said teasingly.
A booming bell rang out from the city's center. "That means they're seating for the ceremony!" the young woman gasped. "We need to hurry!"
"Wait!" Demyx tried to call as the woman and her assorted group of friends broke into a run and sped away from him. He sighed, turning back to walk toward Mozenrath, Wuya, Yzma, Zevon, Roman, and Irmaplotz.
"Well?" Wuya asked, arms folded. "What did you get?"
"There's a princess, all right," Demyx answered. "And all this stuff is set up for her wedding. I got her name, but nothing on the groom. Looks like we're going after one Princess Zelda."
Wuya immediately bristled. "ZELDA?" she repeated.
"Something wrong?" Mozenrath asked.
"Zelda," Wuya repeated. "That was her name fifteen hundred years ago."
"Maybe it's a family name," Yzma dismissed.
"It had better be," Wuya growled. "Because if she's still around…"
"You can't seriously think HE'S around as well," Yzma told her. "It's been centuries!"
"You keep forgetting," Zevon broke in. "It was centuries on HER world. But time passes differently on every world!"
"Not by THAT much," Wuya corrected. She then shrugged; "But it's probably nothing."
"Though when you think about it," Roman pointed out, "YOU survived all those years imprisoned in a puzzle box limbo. So if there was any chance HE ended up getting trapped in the same kind of limbo – "
"We're not going there," Wuya said sharply as she clamped her hand over Roman's mouth. She sighed. "Kidnapping Princess Zelda, all over again."
"You might not want to say that in the middle of town," Irmaplotz warned.
"At least we get to crash a wedding," Wuya reminded herself.
"And I have confirmed there will be cake!" Demyx said with a nod.
...
The very same balcony that had played host to Moana and Katara's evening conversation now played host for Sora and Riku to stand upon it, looking out over the town as they leaned in close to each other.
"By the way, I wrote to Yen Sid," Riku brought up in the midst of their conversation. "I told him it might be a while before we can make it back to his tower for training. We'll see what he says."
"I'm sure he'll understand," Sora said reassuringly.
"I'm a little worried," Riku admitted. "He was afraid that Xehanort's time would be soon. And if he thinks that's the case, he's probably right. For all we know, Dilan will rejoin Xehanort."
"Just because we haven't been training with Yen Sid doesn't mean we haven't been getting stronger," Sora pointed out. "We've still been learning new things with each world we visit."
"That's true," Riku said with a smile.
"Wait…new worlds," Sora muttered. He straightened up with a start; "What time is it?"
"It's almost noon."
"We were going to meet up with Merlin at the hourglass at noon!" Sora cried.
"Who was?" Riku asked.
"Me, Ruby, Papyrus, Stork, Jasmine, and Katara," Sora answered.
"You're really becoming an anti-Mozenrath squad," Riku laughed.
"Well, sort of," Sora replied. "Now we're more of an anti-Cinder-Fall squad. We're helping Ruby finish what she started." He sighed. "Though I really have been missing you every time we go out. …Hey!" He broke into a smile. "Why don't you come with us this time? Or are you going to be looking for Maleficent?"
"This time, I'm going with you," Riku asserted. "We've been apart for too long. Being able to spend the time with you that I have recently made me happy, and this time, I'm not ready for that to end." He held out a hand. "Let's go together."
"Together!" Sora agreed as they clasped hands firmly.
Down in the streets of town, Aladdin and Jasmine strolled among the shoppers in the market district, taking a good look at everything they came across. "They sure do have interesting weapons here," Aladdin remarked as he took note of a display of large swords mounted on the wall of a shop.
"Anything you like?" Jasmine asked.
"Nah, I'm good," Aladdin told her. "What about you? See anything you want?"
"Nothing I need," Jasmine told him, "but the jewelry here is all so interesting. There doesn't seem to be a piece that isn't enchanted to protect from other spells."
"Really makes you wonder about the history of this place," Aladdin mused. "Sure, we know all about Ansem and how the Committee used to live here before it became a mess, but what happened before that? Were there magic wars?"
"What do you think the other kingdoms of this world are like, anyway?" Jasmine wondered. "What's outside Radiant Garden's walls?"
"I'm not sure we even know enough about Radiant Garden to start asking that question."
"I think you're right." Jasmine shielded her eyes as she turned her face skyward. "It's almost noon. I'm supposed to meet Sora, Ruby, Papyrus, Stork, and Katara at the hourglass to figure out our next move."
"Still chasing Mozenrath?" Aladdin asked.
"A different enemy this time," Jasmine corrected. "Someone Ruby set out to find."
"Hey," Aladdin suggested, "what if I come along with you this time?"
"That would be wonderful!" Jasmine told him. "I was just thinking we'd spent a little too much time apart."
"Same here. Come on; let's go!"
Aladdin grabbed Jasmine's hand, and in synchrony, the pair broke into a run across the town square to get back to the castle.
"So tell me about this enemy of Ruby's!" Aladdin asked as they bolted.
"Her name is Cinder Fall!" Jasmine began.
Merlin was already waiting in the hourglass chamber; one by one, Ruby, Stork, Katara, and Papyrus filtered in. Sora, Riku, Aladdin, and Jasmine were the last four to arrive, skidding in around the same time.
"Hey!" Sora greeted. "So, if nobody minds, Riku's coming with us on our next adventure."
"So am I," Aladdin broke in, "if that's cool with everyone else."
"THE MORE, THE MERRIER!" Papyrus said gleefully.
"Double date!" Ruby cheered. "Double date!"
"The more people we have on our team, the better to fend off enemy attacks," Stork pointed out.
"I think it's great that you're coming along," Katara said with a nod.
"Now let's figure out where this Cinder Fall is so we can show her what we're made of," Aladdin declared.
"It's about time we had justice for Remnant," Riku added.
"You ready?" Sora asked with a pointed look at Ruby.
Ruby nodded. "I'm ready."
"THEN LET'S ASK THE QUESTION!" Papyrus insisted.
"You should do it," Jasmine told Ruby. "This is your mission."
"Um…okay." Ruby stepped ahead of the crowd, looking up at the hourglass's top.
"Don't be nervous!" Merlin encouraged. "Knowledge should never be something to fear."
Ruby took a deep breath, then said in a loud, clear voice, "Where is Cinder Fall?"
The sands emptied from the upper chamber into the lower, swirling frenetically. An image of a symbol, a winged crest topped with a triangle pattern, stood out clearly in the foreground while a castle rose up behind it.
"Most unexpected!" Merlin cried.
"I don't like the way you said that," Stork told him.
"Where is it?" Katara asked.
"It can be none other than Hyrule," Merlin identified. "Talk about a mess. Three different timelines and more reincarnations than you can shake a stick at!"
"What's wrong with reincarnation?" Katara asked defensively.
"Nothing at all," Merlin told her. "It simply makes the history of this world somewhat difficult to track. If I recall, its present era should be after the great flood, when – oh, no, nonononono! That's not the right timeline! No, it should be after the vanquishing of Zant! Oh, you'll figure it out when you get there. I'll set you up with the proper directions."
"I can't believe it!" Katara clasped her hands together. "My first mission to another world! Well, okay, I came here, and here, it's been really exciting already. But this is a real mission! A chance to make a difference!"
"Provided we actually can make a difference," Stork sighed. So far, he thought, all they'd been able to do was follow the trails of destruction left by Mozenrath and Maleficent and sweep up the ashes.
"WE CAN AND WILL!" Papyrus asserted.
"Cinder," Ruby said somewhat distantly, looking directly at the glass. "It's time."
...
Princess Zelda had numerous handmaidens who were ready to prepare her for her wedding day. However, she had chosen to give them the day off, telling them to seat themselves in the audience being set up in the throne room. For she had a great many friends who had wanted to be part of her preparations, and she couldn't say no to their request. Much to the scandal of her court, she was dressed and coiffed by commoners, though to Zelda, they were quite the opposite of common people.
Telma finished brushing shadow onto the princess' eyes. "There you go, honey," she said softly. "You do look beautiful."
She stepped back so Zelda could open her eyes, beholding herself in the full-length mirror before her. Her wedding gown was snow-white with a voluminous skirt and glittering crystals sewn into anywhere they could make an accent. The makeup Telma had applied to Zelda's face made her eyes and lips stand out from afar, highlighting just how beautiful both were.
"Oh my gosh!" Agitha gasped. "You look just like a snowdrop!"
"I'm no judge of fashion," Ashei admitted, "but you look pretty good, yeah?"
"It just needs one finishing touch," Ilia said with a smile. She picked up a long, white garment from the nearby table.
Zelda knelt, letting Ilia place the veil over her head. Zelda drew the veil back to behold the entire picture. "Thank you so much," she said gratefully.
"You're so lucky," Ilia sighed.
"I wish I could find my perfect prince just like you!" Agitha pouted.
"You've got plenty of time for that, honey," Telma said knowingly as she flashed Agitha a smile. Looking back to Zelda, she said, "When he sees you walk down that aisle, he's gonna know just how lucky he really is."
"It's me who's lucky," Zelda replied. "I love him so much."
A knock came at the door. "Is everyone decent?" a male voice asked.
"Link!" Ilia gasped. "Get out of here! This is for women only!"
"No, it's fine," Zelda laughed. "We're decent. Come on in."
Link still shielded his eyes as he entered the room. "Just making sure," he teased.
Ilia pulled Link's hand down. "Well, you're already here," she sighed. "You might as well come all the way in."
"What brings you here?" Telma asked.
Link looked to Zelda with a broad smile. "I just wanted to check in with you before you walked down the aisle," he said earnestly. "How are you feeling?"
"Wonderful," Zelda sighed. "I can't believe this is really happening."
"Well, I'm glad it is," Link told her. "You deserve true love."
"Thank you," Zelda told him. "For being my friend through it all."
"No, thank YOU!" Link laughed.
"This is getting mushy," Ashei sighed.
"A woman is allowed to get mushy on her wedding day," Telma stated. "When it happens to you, you'll know."
"You're assuming I want to get married," Ashei teased.
"How is he?" Zelda asked Link.
"I didn't check in on him for that long," Link admitted. Zelda's groom, hailing from beyond Hyrule, was being dressed and prepared by royal footmen, having no real longstanding friends in the area. "But he seems to be just as happy to marry you as you are to marry him."
A page skidded past the door. "Princess Zelda!" he chirped. "You're ready! It's nearly time!"
Zelda nodded. "Everyone, go sit down," she commanded. "You'll see me again in no time."
She parted ways from Link, Telma, Ilia, Agitha, and Ashei, all of whom made their way to the throne room to join the audience.
...
The throne room had been converted into a wedding hall, with white banners emblazoned with the golden Hylian crest spanning the ceiling and row upon row of gilded and cushioned chairs set up for guests to fill. As the last straggled in, a small band of harpist and violinist, set up next to a cake-bearing table that would become the focus when the room was converted to reception hall later, began to fill the chamber with soft and pleasant music. The priestess of the goddesses entered the room, taking her place at the front, where a podium had been erected at the throne. Then came the prince, decked out in white and gold, his coat bearing long, flowing tails. His stride down the aisle was confident but soft in a way, conveying that he knew exactly what he was here for. He took his place up front at the podium and waited.
The harpist and the violinist changed their tune to something more regal as the doors opened to reveal Zelda. Her groom flinched, a smile breaking out over his face as his eyes traveled over her. He knew that beneath her veil, she was smiling to see him as she strode delicately down the aisle. The door was gently shut behind her by a pair of footmen.
She arrived next to him; he pulled back the veil over her chestnut hair to behold her tranquil eyes and blissful smile. He looked back at her as though he were looking at a sunset.
The priestess looked out over the sea of Hylians who had flocked from all corners of the nation to see their princess wed. "Dearly beloved," she began, "we have gathered here today – "
The doors were thrown open, and a clear voice rang out: "I OBJECT!"
A gasp rippled through the audience. All eyes turned to see Mozenrath entering the room, with Yzma, Wuya, Roman, Zevon, Demyx, and Irmaplotz in tow.
"Were we not at that part yet?" Mozenrath asked. He then gave a shrug; "Oh well; it doesn't really matter."
Immediately, the troupe of seven was surrounded by guards pointing sharp spears at them. "Is this how you treat all your guests?" Mozenrath asked sarcastically.
Zelda held up a hand. "Let them speak," she commanded.
"Your highness," Mozenrath said as he gave her the smuggest of expressions. "I'd like to invite you to a gathering of my own. Well, really, it's more like a hostage situation. The event is bargaining for the recomposition of the gateway to the Twilight Realm, and you're the guest of honor. Unfortunately, you won't be able to take a plus one, and refusing to attend is kind of off the table."
The guards' spears pressed in more closely. "Leave the princess alone!" one of them commanded.
"Oh, dear," Wuya mocked. "We certainly are surrounded by trained soldiers with deadly weapons. However shall we get out of this one?"
Completely in synchrony, she, Mozenrath, and Irmaplotz erupted in a wave of magic that sent the guards flying.
"GUARDS!" The groom withdrew his sword, flicking it at the intruders. "PROTECT ZELDA!"
Gasping, Link fumbled for his own blade, pulling forth an iron sword forged in the fires of Ordon Village. He had only come armed as a precaution, fairly certain he wouldn't need to use weaponry of any sort. He had unfortunately been proven wrong.
And he hadn't been the only one to tote a weapon into the hall.
A crowd of guards barreled down the aisle toward the seven intruders. Zevon brought forth a flask from his belt, lobbing it at them with a "BA-BAM!" Neon blue smoke enveloped the soldiers, and before they could process what was happening, they were all going backward, every step they took forward propelling them instead in the opposite direction.
As more guards fenced in from behind, Demyx gave the a grin. "Looks like it's time to rock out!" he declared as his sitar materialized. Plucking a jaunty tune, he summoned a host of watery forms that engaged in battle with the soldiers, throwing them back and battering them until they dropped their spears. Taking advantage of this, Mozenrath, Wuya, Irmaplotz, Zevon, Yzma, and Roman fanned out through the room.
Most of the civilians, at this point, were sufficiently frightened, and they rose to make a mass exodus toward the doorway. Demyx cut them off, dancing a little as he continued to play and formed a wall of water that slammed into the crowd head-on. Solid spheres of water dropped onto them from above, beleaguering them and forcing them to kneel on the ground.
The BOOM of a cannon caused Roman to jump, barely missing the blast that sailed past him from behind and briefly warmed him with far too much heat. "Oh, so you wanna play with fire?" he taunted as he beheld the perpetrator: an elderly man known as Auru, who knelt beside a sizeable weapon. Roman aimed the Cudgel and fired it at Auru; Auru had the good sense to abandon his post before the Cudgel's blast obliterated the other cannon.
A prickling on the back of Roman's neck alerted him to an incoming presence from behind. He spun to clang the shaft of the Cudgel against Ashei's sword. "Sorry, Pigtails," he taunted, "but you just took an obviously losing bet."
"I don't think so!" Ashei grunted as she attempted time and time again to cleave through Roman; he parried every blow with a smirk, slightly swaying in time to Demyx's tune.
A falcon soared overhead; an Ordon native known as Rusl whistled to direct it. The bird attempted to divebomb Yzma; Yzma retaliated by drawing her atlatl and launching a dart. The falcon pulled hastily up to avoid being impaled. Yzma trained her next dart upon the bird, letting another one fly and watching the falcon swerve to avoid it. With the loading of another dart, she had the bird on the run.
Thinking quickly, Link lay his sword on a chair, pulled a bow from his back, and fixed an arrow upon it, a bomb with a lit fuse skewered upon that arrow. He needed less than a second to put Mozenrath in his sights and let the arrow fly. Mozenrath held out a hand; the arrow froze in midflight. "So we have a wannabe hero," Mozenrath sighed as he twirled his finger in midair; the arrow, correspondingly, spun a 180 before launching back at Link. "Please at least last long enough for this to be entertaining."
Link quickly swept up the sword, batting the bomb away so that it exploded harmlessly in the corner of the room. He leapt over the chairs that stood between him and Mozenrath, blade held high. As he descended, Mozenrath reached up, an energy ball charged in his right hand to meet with the sword. Seeing this, Link quickly twisted the sword in a different direction; he landed firmly on the floor and stabbed at Mozenrath's midsection. Mozenrath was caught off guard, his dodge of the blade really more of a fall to the floor than anything. While he was down, Link stomped one foot on Mozenrath's chest.
"You're not laying a finger on her!" Link promised as he pointed his sword at Mozenrath's throat.
"Actually, you're not laying a foot on me," Mozenrath growled, clutching his right fist; the energy ball disappeared. It reformed as several small points of magic that surrounded Link from behind and on either side. The spots of blue caught Link's peripheral vision, and only just in time did Link dive forward, vaulting over Mozenrath and somersaulting on the floor before the spots fired searing beams. Mozenrath then created a whip of blue energy in his hand, cracking it toward Link; as Link stood, the thin rope of magic wound round and round him, locking up his legs and binding one arm to his side. He lifted his sword arm high up out of the way, bringing the blade down onto the whip only for it to connect a current of shocking energy to his body. Mozenrath stood, proud of his achievement; before he could rest on his laurels, Link hopped to close the distance between them, sword swinging. Caught off guard, Mozenrath reeled backward, the whip snapping and falling to pieces.
Wuya and Irmaplotz surged toward the not-yet-wedded couple. "You take care of the dreamboat," Wuya told Irmaplotz, "and I'll take the prize!"
Irmaplotz made a beeline for the prince, hands glowing with red energy. The prince backed away, looking for all the world like a prey animal facing its predator, holding his sword out as though its small sting would protect him. As Irmaplotz got closer, he attempted to swing the blade.
Irmaplotz twirled, catching the sword in her hands. As soon as the metal connected with the vermilion magic she bore, it fell to pieces.
"AGAIN?" the prince groaned.
As soon as he was left unarmed, Irmaplotz simply tackled him, bringing him to the ground as she jammed a fist into his face. She then stood tall over him, watching him try to struggle to his feet before surrounding him with magic that jolted his entire body and forced him to the ground again.
"Who da man?" she said smugly to herself. "I'm the man."
Zelda watched Wuya's approach; at first, she thought the woman's steps were slowing, but then she realized this phenomenon was happening to the entire room; it was time itself slowing down for Zelda. All she saw was enveloped in black. She knew, then, what force was coming to protect her.
"Please," she prayed. "Help me save them."
They flashed brightly before her eyes: the Light spirit Ordona, the great cattle beast holding a sphere of pure Light aloft in their horns. The spirit Faron, the monkey curled around their sphere while their tail encircled all. The spirit Eldin, whose great flapping wings obscured then revealed their eagle body. The spirit Lanayru, whose snakelike body surrounded Zelda in entirety. Round and round the princess they sailed until their spheres of light were let go and pierced her heart.
To Wuya's eyes, it only took a split second for the bow to materialize in Zelda's hands. The scene of the wedding hall snapped back into Zelda's vision; the princess hoisted up the bow, drew – an arrow burning with Light appeared nocked on the string – and let fly.
Wuya sailed over the arrow, but not without feeling it come close to grazing, burning with heat. She landed hard on the floor, casting a ball of virulent magic from her left hand before making a spin and launching a second from her right.
Zelda shot both spheres out of the air expertly before sending a bright arrow beaming directly at Wuya's chest. Wuya slid to the side; the arrow hit her shoulder, burning hot enough to actually bring a yelp forth from Wuya. She tried to grasp the shaft of the arrow to pull it free, but the Light burned her hand. It would just have to stay there. "You messed with the wrong villain, princess!" Wuya growled as she spun toward Zelda, aiming a kick at the princess' midsection.
Zelda raised the bow to block the foot, then using it as a lever to throw Wuya back. In no time, she'd drawn back again, thinking of all four Light spirits. Four arrows appeared on the string; when Zelda let fly, they arced in four directions around to connect at Wuya's location. Wuya backflipped twice to evade them; the arrows crashed into each other and fizzled out. Wuya's next move was to strike the ground, letting a wall of green flames erupt in a line from her point of impact toward Zelda; Zelda simply planted an arrow in the end of the fiery trail and extinguished it in one blow.
"Problems?" Irmaplotz asked as she sent another full-body shock through her captive prince.
"NO!" Wuya growled. "I refuse…to lose…to a Hylian PRINCESS!" She shoved her hands outward, and a whole shockwave rolled in toward Zelda.
Zelda pushed back, not even needing arrows this time. A wave of light met Wuya's fire, colliding with the magic in between the two combatants; both staggered from the resulting knockback.
"Okay, seriously, I have the prince, and he doesn't have any weird light arrows," Irmaplotz stated. "Let's just take him instead and go."
Wuya gritted her teeth before giving in. "WE'RE LEAVING!" she barked as she cast a Corridor of Darkness behind Irmaplotz. She rushed over to the prince, who was finally starting to stand, and seized his wrists from behind, locking them in a pair of shackles summoned from thin air.
Mozenrath and Roman didn't want to admit defeat; neither did they need to be told twice. They turned tail and bolted away from Ashei and Link. Zevon trotted along, carrying his own prize: a great plate piled high with dessert. "I'VE GOT THE CAKE!" he proclaimed.
Yzma's parting shot actually pierced the falcon, bringing it down in a bloody heap and transforming it into a chipmunk at the same time. Pumping a fist in victory, Yzma made for the Corridor at top speed.
Demyx lay down cover behind the group, still rocking to the beat as water fountains sprayed up behind himself and his allies, preventing anyone else from getting close. The only person they had left to worry about was Zelda.
Zelda wasn't going to let these intruders take her lover without a fight. As Wuya began to shove her prince into the Corridor, Zelda readied one more arrow, hoping to aim true.
Roman and Mozenrath shot at the same time; Zelda fumbled the bow as red-hot Dust exploded behind her and a crackle of bright blue energy blew up in her face. Then all seven were through the Corridor, taking her prince with them, and the Corridor snapped shut: gone.
There was a stunned silence among the chamber as guards and guests alike, thoroughly soaked by Demyx's barrage, watched the point where the intruders had exited with their captive. Then Zelda sank to her knees, dropping the Light spirits' bow, and buried her face in her hands, shaking.
...
An insistent knock came at the door of Peter and Garfield's apartment. Peter, the only one home at the time, gracefully rolled up to the door to answer it. In doing so, he looked upon the face of the last person he had ever expected to see on the WHAM ARMY base.
"I gotta hand it to you, Peter," Tony Zucco said with a sly grin. "You really knew how to get lost this time. But no matter how far you run, I'll always catch up, and you know it."
"You'll excuse me if this is in any way rude," Peter replied, trying to keep up his usual demeanor of whimsy despite the chill running through his limbs, "but I'm fairly sure the last time I saw you, you were dead."
It all came to him in flashes: memories of working, as a child, among the Zuccos in their circus. Ratting Tony out for the premeditated murder of his father in order to earn reward money and accolades. Keeping out of the Zuccos' sight for over thirty years. Tony tracking him as far as Gotham, cornering him and preparing to fillet him with those knives he did love so much. Harley and Garfield arriving just in time, preventing Peter from meeting an unsightly end. Harley herself being the one to do Tony in – and she never was one to get blood on her hands if the situation weren't dire – by bashing his head into unrecognizability with a baseball bat. And that had been the last of it, Peter had thought.
Apparently, he'd been wrong.
"Dead?" Tony repeated. "That ain't stopped nobody else around here, has it? Well, until now."
Peter didn't realize what he was driving at right away. "I suppose you've come to finish me off?"
"I don't like to leave loose ends, Peter. And you've been dangling on your own for much, much longer than I'm comfortable with."
"You'll have to catch me," Peter said before leaping into a backflip.
He had intended to pick up a makeshift weapon and launch it at Tony before making a break for the ventilation system, but Tony flicked his wrist, throwing what seemed at first to be a knife until it became a shackle, locking around Peter's ankle and immediately lodging to the nearest wall, holding Peter in place upside-down. Tony threw three more, bonding all of Peter's limbs to the same wall.
No amount of struggling could break the shackles. Peter didn't think to wonder where they'd come from or how they were sticking so tightly to the wall; at the time, it all seemed to make a horrific sort of sense to him. "Hm," he remarked, growing truly nervous. "This is a bit of a tight spot."
Tony withdrew an implement from beneath his jacket; this actually was a knife, long and wicked with a brilliant sheen. "Now, where should I start?" he mused. "Where, oh, where could I cause you the most pain before you end up performing at the great big top down below?"
"You've really made a mistake this time," Peter pointed out, hoping he was on the right track. "You see, I've made some quite powerful friends. If you thought Team Penguin was bad, wait until you get an eyeful of them."
"Ohhhh, you mean Mad Madam Mim?" Tony replied teasingly, his eyes glittering with malice. "Ayam Aghoul? Little miss Neopolitan?"
"I don't want to know how you know their names, do I?" Peter asked, his smile downturning.
"Why don't you see what happened to 'em for yourself?" Tony suggested.
In an instant, Peter was chained not to the wall of his own living room, but to the wall of the karaoke hall, where bodies lay strewn about, leaking crimson blood. Aghoul's body was splayed over Mim's. Neo's head was separated a far distance from the rest of her. Xayide was cleaved completely in half. Grany was impaled upon his own sword while Rémington lay slashed to ribbons in front of his body, having perished trying to protect his brother. Snipe had tried to utilize his mace, but his arms had been detached expertly and the remainder of him laid to rest. Tears of blood poured from Ravess' eyes as she lay face-up. Scarlet was drenched in liquid the color of her namesake; Herb's bones were set at odd angles, having been broken in a scuffle before his throat was slit.
"No one left to save you now," Tony boasted.
It was then that Garfield wandered into the room, in the midst of an explanatory monologue: "Okay, so we hit a snag in the mission, and Iceman sent me back here to – WHAT THE – "
The knife arced through the air, piercing him directly in the throat.
"NO!" Peter cried.
Tony watched Garfield fall with a smirk. He then walked toward the fallen corpse, plucking the knife from his neck. "That was my last clean knife," he said with a shake of the head and a click of the tongue. "Oh, well. Makes it more poetic, don't you think? You'll die by a blade soaked in his blood."
He then began to advance upon Peter, far too slowly, drawing out the fear inside, making the anticipation of the torture to come simply unbearable, and there was no one left Peter could cry out to for help as his final fate closed in –
That was when the door to the washing machine opened.
...
Mim gestured to the wide room filled with implements of pain designed to target every part of the body. "And this is the torture chamber!" she introduced to Scarlet.
Scarlet gasped as she darted into the room, flitting from this machine to that one. "You have EVERYTHING!" she gushed. "Ooh, Herb is gonna love this!" She stopped to think about a crucial factor. "So, uh, is this strictly for actual literal torture, or can it be used for, well…kinkier things?"
"It was designed for the former," Mim said with a wink, "but there's no saying you can't use it for the latter!"
"I like your style!" Scarlet complimented.
They then proceeded to the laundry room. "This is the communal laundry," Mim introduced. "It was originally more of a washing tub situation, but Wuya fixed the place up with these newfangled machines. I warn you, Mozenrath gets testy if you don't take your laundry out on time!"
"Looks like somebody left theirs in this one," Scarlet muttered as she opened the door to a front-loading washing machine.
What she found was not leftover wet clothes, but a human being, curled up inside the machine. Furthermore, she had just startled that human being awake from a nap.
"Sorry!" Scarlet squeaked as she backed away.
Getting his bearings, Peter uncurled himself from the machine's interior and slid out into the room. "So it was a dream," he said cryptically. "That does admittedly make more sense. After all, Aghoul can't die, and nothing can touch Neo."
"What are you talking about?" Mim asked.
"And why were you asleep in the washing machine?" Scarlet added.
"Oh, just a nightmare," Peter said casually, though he was shaken. He'd had his share of nightmares, but that one had seemed especially vivid in comparison to past fare. "As for why I was asleep in the washing machine…it looked comfortable."
"Was it?" Scarlet asked doubtfully.
"Yes," Peter told her, "though I don't think you'd agree if you tried it yourself."
Scarlet eyed up the machine, wondering if it was even feasible for her to fit inside in any position. She resolved that it wasn't, nor was the idea worth entertaining.
"I do love having a good nightmare!" Mim squealed. "Was there gore?"
"Oh, yes, lots," Peter answered.
"Were there spiders?"
"None of those, I'm afraid."
"Were you about to die just before you awoke?"
"As a matter of fact, I was!" Peter said proudly; Mim's enthusiasm for the subject was infectious. "I don't think you would have enjoyed this one, though. You were killed off by a mere mobster."
"Now, that's just not accurate," Mim huffed.
"What were you ladies in the midst of?" Peter asked.
"Scarlet was getting the grander tour of the facilities," Mim explained.
"Wanna come along?" Scarlet asked. "I'm sure there's a lot around here you can show me. I have a feeling you in particular have a lot of secret hideaways."
"If I told you about them, they wouldn't be secret," Peter said with a wink. "You two go on and have fun. But not too much fun!"
"We'll have as much fun as we please!" Mim insisted as she stomped out of the laundry room.
Scarlet began to follow, but she had only taken a few steps when she realized that behind her, Peter was standing stock-still, folding his arms around himself and casting his gaze to the floor. "Hey," she asked, "you okay?"
Peter's head snapped up, and a broad smile crossed his face. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Just checking," Scarlet told him.
She hurried to catch up with Mim, saying in a low voice, "I think that nightmare really messed with him."
"Peter Merkel, afraid of a little nightmare?" Mim reiterated. "Preposterous!"
Scarlet didn't know Peter well enough to say, so she let the subject drop.
...
A Corridor of Darkness opened in the midst of Hyrule Field.
The world had thought to finally see peace from the bane that had plagued it for hundreds upon hundreds of years. His last stand was supposed to have been against Link, his death met at the end of the Master Sword. But Maleficent had been quite deliberate in her selection of associate to dispatch to Hyrule, and had she been able to feel the despair of the goddesses upon his return, she would have been all too pleased.
Ganondorf breathed in the air of his former homeworld. It was as vapid as he'd ever found it.
Behind him, Ursula exited the Corridor, her tentacles crawling along. "Good to be home, isn't it?" she said coyly.
"If ever this was my home," Ganondorf grunted.
Cinder Fall strode out after them, and the Corridor closed behind her. "It's the place whose people will fear you most," she remarked. "I can't think of a better definition of 'home' than that."
"So," Ursula said with a playful nudge to Ganondorf's upper arm, "thought about what you're gonna change?" The arm she had touched ended in a fist that clutched the bottle of sand Maleficent had mixed into the power to contort reality itself.
"Yes," Ganondorf confirmed. "I know exactly what must be done."
"Just let me slip a little something on first." Ursula held her own bottle, this one full of a sparkling powder that resembled ground-up diamond but was so much finer, less harsh. She uncorked it before pouring the pixie dust liberally upon herself; her tentacles lifted off the ground, and she hovered at just the right height to be on eye level with the tall Ganondorf. Then she gave an experimental swim around him, satisfied with her ability to manipulate the air as if it were water. "Much more comfortable," she remarked. "Now tell us what the big plan is."
"Hyrule is a land guarded by four spirits of Light," Ganondorf explained. "Ordona. Faron. Eldin. Lanayru. It is they who keep the Twilight at bay and prevent the land from falling to powers on the edge of Darkness. It is they who provide the comfortable lives the citizens of this land enjoy. And it is they who must be twisted. For if they no longer guard Light, this world will fall."
"Four spirits, huh?" Ursula reiterated. "That would explain the four you had us pick out back home."
"A precautionary measure," Ganondorf said, "should someone figure out how to undo what has been done. They can be dismissed once time has proven the change irreversible."
"And if they like their positions?" Cinder asked.
"They may do as they wish," Ganondorf replied. "They will be given the means to live as mortals when none but the bearers of the Triforce will withstand. As I granted power to Zant before, so shall they be granted power. I understand them, however, to be far more deserving."
"One should hope they are," Cinder said with a nod.
"Well, don't keep us waiting!" Ursula urged.
Ganondorf held the bottle of sand at arm's length, eyeing it up. A very subtle smile crossed his face as he let the glass container drop, willing it to do his bidding.
When the bottle hit the ground, the glass shattered. A rainbow of sand erupted into the air, crashing like a splash of water before dispersing on a sudden gust of wind.
And all at once, everything changed.
...
Wuya gave the captured prince a hard shove as she, Mozenrath, Yzma, Zevon, Roman, Irmaplotz, and Demyx returned victorious to the zenith of the Arbiter's grounds; the hostage fell flat on his face with a grunt.
"You're making a big mistake," he grumbled.
"That's what they all say," Wuya sighed. Turning back to the others, she asked, "So how long until we make our demand?"
"You…" Yzma pointed at Wuya. "You've got a little something in your…right there…"
Wuya glanced at where the arrow of light was still sunken into her shoulder. She poked the shaft with a finger; it seared painfully.
"Here," Yzma offered. "Let me – " She seized the arrow with both bare hands, then recoiled with an "OUCH!"
"I should probably get that," Mozenrath told her, holding up his right hand. "The nice thing about the gauntlet, other than the immeasurable magical power it provides, is that it will shield from – "
"No, I have it!" Yzma insisted, grasping the arrow once more. Gripping through the pain, she wrenched it out of Wuya's shouder; Wuya stumbled forward slightly from the jolt, looking at Yzma in awe for what she'd just done.
Yzma dropped the arrow like it was hotter than hot – which, to her touch, it was – and the moment it hit the floor, it dissolved.
"Well, that was stupid," Mozenrath remarked.
Yzma simply held out her hand and said "Potion."
Mozenrath pressed a bottle of regenerative potion into Yzma's hand, and Yzma presented it to Wuya. "You'll only need about half the bottle," Yzma explained. "Leave the rest for me."
Wuya gratefully downed her half of the potion, feeling the torn-open space in her shoulder close up as if it were never there. Yzma dribbled the rest of the potion over her hands, rubbing it in like moisturizer to counteract the light arrow's burn.
"You really didn't have to do that," Wuya said, still in slight surprise.
"Of course I did," Yzma replied without a second thought as she cast the empty bottle over her shoulder, throwing it hard enough to launch it right off the edge of the building. "Now. Back to business."
The prince had managed to get to his feet; Wuya snapped her fingers and a shackle appeared around his ankles, binding them together and causing him to lose his balance and tip over again. "You're not going anywhere," she told him. "You may not have been the bargaining chip we had in mind, but we can still play you at the table."
"What EXACTLY are you planning to do to me?" the prince groaned.
Mozenrath rolled him over with a foot so he could look at the man's face. It was quite a handsome face, he had to admit, framed delicately with neatly groomed auburn hair and a pair of prominent sideburns. "I can see why the princess wanted to marry you," he observed.
"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" the prince responded. "And for clarification, she was going to marry me because she loved me, and she thought I loved her."
"Love," Wuya spat. "Love is for idiots."
"Did I say I loved her?" the prince reiterated. "I said she THOUGHT I loved her. And that's the secondary reason you just made a huge mistake. The PRIMARY reason is that if you want what I think you want, you're not going to get it."
"What we want is for someone to rebuild the mirror that opens the gateway to the Twilight Realm," Mozenrath explained.
Wuya lightly backhanded his arm; "Don't give the entire plan away to the hostage!"
"And see, right there, that's where you messed up," the prince sighed.
"I don't see how we did," Mozenrath explained. "We wait a sufficient amount of time to get everybody nervous, then we make a dramatic re-entry to the kingdom somewhere public enough to be seen and make it clear that if we can't get that mirror within three days – "
"Make it one day?" Roman suggested. "I'm sick of this desert."
"Seconded," Yzma grunted.
"If we can't get our mirror in one day," Mozenrath amended, "you'll be destroyed painfully and creatively."
"Guess I'll die, then," the prince sighed.
Wuya smacked Mozenrath's arm once more; "What did I JUST say about telling him the plan?"
"I think we're all forgettorating the prioritizy here," Zevon reminded the group, lowering his plate to the ground. "We also have the CAKE."
"CAKE!" Irmaplotz yelled before digging into it with her bare hands and shoving it into her mouth. "Mmm," she said with delight, "vanilla with a hint of lemon!"
"Move over, Bookworm," Roman said as he shoved Irmaplotz aside to get his own hands into the cake – after delicately removing his gloves, of course. "You KNOW I don't get to eat this stuff when Archie's around, so I'm calling dibs." He dug out a hunk of pastry and stuffed it into his own mouth.
"Save some for me!" Demyx cried as he tore into the cake; Zevon followed suit. Yzma, Wuya, and Mozenrath gave them a rather flabbergasted look before turning back to the prince, who'd managed to work himself into a sitting position.
"So," the prince offered, "do you want me to tell you why your plan is ten kinds of wrong?"
"I can't wait to hear what flimsy excuse you come up with so that we'll spare your life," Wuya scoffed.
"It's not a flimsy excuse," the prince said sharply. "I did my research before I got here. I always do. And that mirror was made by the goddesses and shattered by one of the Twili. There isn't a smith on this world or any other who can fix it. If you're asking for that, you could hold out for eternity and come up empty-handed. The only other thing that could break you into the Twilight Realm is if you had part of the Triforce of Power, but the problem with THAT is that the last known guy to have it is deceased."
"Good," Wuya snorted.
"Good?" the prince repeated. "And how is it GOOD that you don't have any other way into the Twilight Realm?"
"Because if the wielder of the Triforce of Power is dead," Wuya remarked, "I won't have to worry about running into my ex."
"Good for you," the prince droned. "Anyway, now you know why you can't get what you want. But you're obviously making some kind of power play, and from what I saw back at the castle, you're the ones with the power. I'm trying to bet on the fastest horse here. I thought that was Zelda, but now I'm starting to think you're already halfway to the finish line."
"What are you trying to say?" Yzma asked skeptically. "That you want in?"
"Believe me," the prince asserted, "I'm one of you. Well, okay, I'm not one of your little team here. But let's just say we have a lot in common."
"And what's THAT supposed to mean?" Yzma groaned.
"I'm apparently not getting back to Zelda alive anyway," the prince stated, "so I might as well drop the act. That wedding was a sham. Well, she thought it was real. And we were going to be legally married. She was only going to survive about a week before a tragic 'accident' befell her, leaving the entirety of Hyrule to me. And of course, by 'accident,' I mean I was going to get rid of her. I don't know why you want into the Twilight Realm so badly, but I'm guessing it's something to do with power. Now you know the kind of power I was looking for. You're the bad guys, and so am I."
"What a lovely story," Wuya sniffed. "And exactly what someone trying to get us not to kill him would say. We'll see how much of that was true." She approached the prince, pressing a hand to the side of his head.
After reading what she could, Wuya backed away in shock. "…He's telling the truth," she said, surprised.
"Murdering the royal family in order to take over the throne," Yzma recounted. "A classic plan, if I do say so myself."
"All right, I'll humor you," Mozenrath said. "The reason we want to enter the Twilight Realm is to collect the Fused Shadow. That particular embodiment of Darkness is part of a spell we need to take over not just one kingdom, not just one world, but the heart of all worlds, and all the worlds connected to it. How does that strike your fancy?"
"Consider my fancy struck," the prince said with a smirk. "So you're from off-world too."
"Then so are you," Yzma realized.
"We're after the same thing," the prince insisted. "Just in different ways. If you scratch my back, I could scratch yours. You have to be able to use someone like me. A pretty face with a silver tongue for lies."
"We already have that," Roman said around a mouthful of cake.
"And her name is Xayide," Yzma clarified.
"Actually, I was talking about Archie," Roman clarified after a swallow.
"He said PRETTY face," Demyx said without missing a beat.
Roman shoved a handful of cake into Demyx's face, smearing it over his eyes.
"Trust me," the prince insisted. "I could help you."
Mozenrath regarded the prince with doubt. "I don't exactly see what you're bringing to the table that we don't already have," he admitted. "On the other hand, I do have to admit we wouldn't have gotten this far without taking advantage of opportunity like yours. Let's say we put you on probation. You'll work with us on obtaining the Fused Shadow. If we like your performance, you're hired. If we don't, it's back to a creatively painful death."
"That's fair," the prince said with a decisive nod.
"And if you try lying to us," Mozenrath went on, "Wuya will see right through it."
"Oh, and I'll have fun coming up with punishments for you if that happens," Wuya cackled.
"Still fair," the prince said casually. "So. Do I get to know the names of my new employers?"
"I am Mozenrath," Mozenrath introduced. "Lord of the – "
"Former," Roman threw in.
Mozenrath bristled. "FORMER Lord of the Black Sands."
"Wuya," Wuya added. "Heylin witch, and more powerful than you know."
"Not more powerful than a princess with a fancy bow and arrows," Demyx chimed in.
"Do you want more cake in your face?" Roman sighed.
"It's actually delicious," Demyx told him, "so yes."
Roman whacked Demyx on the back of the head with the Cudgel.
"I am Yzma!" Yzma announced. "You can call me an evil genius."
"And I am Zevon!" Zevon added. "Son of Yzma, and a geniosity myself!"
"Roman Torchwick," Roman introduced. "Liar, cheater, thief, survivor."
"Princess Irmaplotz of Hierogoth," Irmaplotz added. "Currently on hiatus from ruling Hierogoth."
"And I guess my name is 'Demyx' now," Demyx sighed.
"And you?" Wuya asked, fixing the prince with a stern glare.
"Hans," the prince replied with a smile. "Prince Hans Westergard of the Southern Isles." He squirmed a bit; "Now are you going to let me out or not?"
Wuya snapped her fingers, and the shackles holding Hans' wrists and legs popped open. Hans stood up, massaging one wrist with the opposite hand. "That's better," he sighed.
"No mirror," Wuya reiterated. "No Triforce. We're going to have to come up with a third plan."
"Working on it," Yzma muttered.
"Oh, this should be good," Roman remarked.
All eight were suddenly made aware of a great shift in the atmosphere. Their skin prickled. Something fundamental in their surroundings had just warped, though it wasn't immediately visibly obvious.
"Did…anyone else feel that?" Roman asked.
"Magic," Wuya identified. "It was magic."
"What KIND of magic?" Zevon asked.
"Magic I don't have a good feeling about," Wuya muttered.
"Um…guys?" Demyx pointed a shaking hand out to the horizon, in the direction of Castle Town.
All eight turned to see a dark wave of magic – not true Darkness, but still a dimming of the skies and clouding the air – blanketing the land, rolling in over them like a tidal wave.
They barely had enough time to utter oaths before they were enveloped.
...
A/N: Pixie dust Ursula is a creation of GAvillain's that he let me borrow.