Now return to your home, to the barren, to the arid, to the beautiful. See the sun rise, blushing the sands like the fairest desert rose and dying the highlands a vibrant violet, like the blooms that sit suspended on their mighty slopes.
It is getting easier is it not? You can see it yourself now.
Kara Kara Bazaar is filled to bursting and so, too, are you. Seven days you have spent with Minerva, celebrating your entrance to adulthood in the eyes of the Gerudo, the dawn of your nineteenth year. Such adventures you have taken together, your sand seals' trails curving like rivers across the dunes! On the second day, there were the statues of the gallant Seven, on the fourth came the leviathan's behemoth bones, and yesterday the sinuous twists of the labyrinth on Mount Granajh's western flank. 'Twas a distraction Minerva greatly needed after the passing of the old King, and you have been grateful to do your part.
Ah, but still you have not laid bare that which lies within your heart.
Now it is her final day in the desert, and you have decided the time has come. Soon you will meet her here, along the outskirts of the burgeoning bazaar, where hums the sound of shopkeepers and merchants, tradespeople and artisans, all shouting their wares to the savannah. Here you shall unveil your soul before her, in all its vibrance and all its flame.
Nabooru's bane, Urbosa, how your heart batters your ribcage, echoing through your breast! Anxiously you rub the pommels of your scimitars, formally bestowed on you this very morning. Do their jeweled hilts bring you comfort? Would your courage wane without their weight?
Surely not.
Ah, close your eyes, Urbosa. Be soothed by the warm desert wind, though your hair stands on end as if a frost swept you instead. Breathe deep, though it sticks to your throat like unripe fruit sticks to the trees. Relax your muscles and let your strain go loose, though each sinew be as tight as the hangman's noose. By now you know all too well your truth. And it is time for Minerva to know it too.
Would it relieve you if she were not surprised? Surely she has heard the sandstone streets echo with that infamous Gerudo quip: "Start with vai, end with vai, nevermind the voe in the middle." But then, it is, for most, but a sporting jest.
Oh, but this cannot be said for you, o friend of mine. The hard arms of voe shall never have a hold on your heart, their sharp smirks shall never snare your eyes, and the sun soaked sheets of your bed shall host only the silken smiles of vai. And it is Minerva who you will love, until, and beyond, the very end of time.
Ah, but this is what you fear, is it not? She has only expressed interest in voe, and never for vai. Difficult it has been to hope she shares your love, carrying a secret candle that bears your name within her breast. But as it is said, nothing of worth is ever gained without risk. Do you remember the way you awoke with her touch, deep in your heart, your body and your soul? Do you remember the fires of your longing for her, which you fight so hard to control? Do you remember that dreams of her first stirred your lightning's might?
Delay no further then, Urbosa. It is time.
Goddess, there she is, adorned in a dress of rose and jewelry of gold, like the rising sun peeking from behind cherry blossoms. She smiles like a shooting star, saved from sunburn by a sparkling sapphire circlet on her head. When she runs to you, can you see the swing in her steps? Can you see the laughter in her eyes? Summon the bravery in your bosom, Urbosa, for she makes it all so simple and all so difficult, all at once.
"Urbosa!" she calls and your nerves nearly fail right then.
"Lady Minerva," you whisper, your mouth filled with pebbles, stumbling to respond.
"'Lady Minerva?'" She chuckles, "I am already sad to be leaving so soon, do not make it worse with formality like that!"
"I- I apologize, Minerva. I guess I am just sad that you are leaving as well," you flinch.
Minerva embraces you deeply and laughs, "I am just teasing. This week was one of the best I have had in years. Thank you so much again for sharing your home with me."
A nod and a grunt is your only response. Oh, Urbosa, must you be so afraid? Do you worry that your dear friend can read your anxiety like she reads the histories, the legends, the romances?
Minerva raises an eyebrow, but no teasing comment does she make. She remains carefree, and casually fills your silence's space with a gesture to the bazaar, "I still cannot believe it. When we first met, none of this was here. Now…"
"I sometimes cannot believe it myself," you admit, welcoming the chance to speak with ease, "I told my mother we should establish a permanent inn. I think she agreed." You grimace, "I just hope it would not encourage voe to sneak into Gerudo Town more than our relationship… er… partnership already has. "
Surprised, Minerva blinks, "I cannot believe they are still trying after all these years. I hope they have not soured relationships between our people. It would be a terrible shame if things went back to the way things were before."
"Do not worry," you avow, "Few of these voe possess even the slightest shred of brains. Even the most skeptical of vaba would admit that what we have forged has been beneficial to all Gerudo, whatever warts there may still be." Ah, how your stomach tightens, "Some would wish that we were even closer, perhaps."
Ah, too subtle you are, Urbosa. Far too subtle, indeed. How I wish you could come forth and plainly speak your mind! This is how you live, Champion, if you believe you will not die. Alas, your silence persists, and I can only wait and hope and pray.
"Alright, Urbosa. What is going on?" Minerva eventually asks, after the silence stretches far too long again, "Yesterday you said we needed to talk, and now you are as bashful as a blupee! What is so important that it could not wait until next time?"
So this is it, my friend. May the heroes of myth lend you all their courage. Close your eyes and, deeply, breathe. Let your heart live on your lips and your tongue, and at last concede.
"There are two things I need to say," you pause. How do you even begin?
"Come on! Out with it!" Minerva, urgingly laughs. Ah, apprehension, do not draw forth this wince. If only her requests were so easily fulfilled! But are they not? Your words remain naught but truth, no matter how heavily they fall. Would not such things, a happier world, make for all?
"Do you… remember… when we spied on that knight?" you haltingly ask, "When I said that I did not understand why anyone was interested in him?"
"Oh, I remember it clearly," Minerva winks, "He is in the desert with the rest of the Royal Guard if you would like a proper introduction."
"No…I…" you sigh. Does she not understand that this is a serious matter? But do you not also love how her humor always lightens your mood? "I do not think I will ever be interested in him."
"Good. That saves him for me," she laughs, "The bazaar is filled with other men you might be interested in, though. And most of them are here just to have some fun, you could definitely-"
"Minerva…" you anxiously interrupt, "I do not think I will ever be interested in ANY voe…"
Your eyebrows pointedly rise. Minerva looks confused. Deep breath, Urbosa, and free your heart's demand.
"Now, vai on the other hand…"
A moment passes, then recognition blooms across Minerva's face. She smiles wide and laughs, "Urbosa! That is what you were worried about telling me? Oh, this is wonderful! I am so happy!"
Your eyes go wide, for you are taken aback, "You…you…understand then?"
"Of course! Some of the best guards in the castle are the same," she giddily grins, "They tend to issue fewer challenges over their honor, or whatever maiden they are trying to impress. I swear, it does not take the slightest provocation for the men in the guard to come to blows. They even set up a whole sparring circle near the bazaar to try and interest the women with their skill. I'm not sure they have been successful thus far, at least not in the way they want to be."
This is not how you thought the conversation would go. But then, what did you expect? Your stomach tumbles and churns within your gut, like a rolling avalanche. Do her words make your skin tremble more, or less?
"Okay, so that is the first thing you wanted to say," she smiles, "And the second?"
Your mouth opens and closes, jaw fluttering a lively jig. How do you tell her the way she rules the beat of your heart? The way your veins dance to her rhythm? The way that only she can make you sweat, for her fire is the one heat you will never grow accustomed to?
"Come on! How can it be so hard? What else did you want to…" Her eyes turn downward and she gasps, "Urbosa! Are those the Scimitars of the Seven?!"
So. She noticed them. A piece of your heart swells with pride. But your time is now, Champion, your moment is nigh! Yet, who could ignore the relief that now spreads through your mind? Have you not spent years after years pining for her, and sighing at the very sight? Have you not dreamt of her lips against yours on countless days and countless nights? Take this chance, Urbosa! Set the stars above alight!
"They are, indeed, the Scimitars of the Seven," you, alas, recite.
"You did it!" Minerva delightedly shouts.
"I did it," you timidly smile, and pull the blades from their scabbards, as warnings scream within your heart, "I led the Molduga hunt just before you arrived in the desert. Not only was I the first up, I struck the last blow."
Hope is kindled anew when you see Minerva's eyes go wide. After all, she has told you many times how a warrior's skill stokes desire in her mind.
"So here they are," you say, heart thumping like the hooves of stampeding cattle on hard packed roads, "The smiths finished forging them last night, and they were formally presented to me this morning by the leaders of the seven tribes."
Minerva's eyes comb every detail, each line of gold and each precious jewel along their razor's edge. Is their steel meant to seduce? Would she be wooed if she knew that diamonds rest within the steel? Would her bosom flutter if she knew the molduga's jaw now rests within the grips? That the secrets of their forging are kept even from you?
Ah, but Urbosa, you already told her all of this. What good would it do to tell her again? Could you not sing sweet sonnets to her instead, precious verses filled with love? But no. You smile, and offer the blades into Minerva's hands.
"Would you like to hold them yourself, my friend?"
Look how her eyes grow wider as she takes them, reverently brushing every curve with her finger. Look how she admires them, the finest blades in all the land…With one notable exception.
"Time for me to test you, for once," you nervously grin, "Tell me about the Scimitars of the Seven. Why are they so important to the Gerudo?"
Ready and eager, Minerva furrows her brow, "Oooh! They are symbols of the Seven Sacred Virtues! They prove that, in the eyes of the elders, you are a worthy heir to the heroines who united the tribes and reclaimed the desert from the minions of evil."
You smile, hiding your feverishly pounding heart, "And what, pray tell, is the most important thing to remember about them?"
Minerva's eyes do not rise from the swords, still filled with wonder and awe, "That together, and only together, they are you," and for a moment she pauses, "The sword in your left hand is your heart, and on the right is your soul. They are a reminder of your quality in both, to all the Gerudo, and also to you."
Oh, Minerva! If only she knew what you have done, if only she could understand! She said it herself. The blades are your very heart and soul and you placed them both into her hands. Does she truly not know what the words beneath your words mean? But who could blame her, when your gesture is no more than fragile poetry?
Alas, she simply looks them over once more and offers them back into your care. Your heart falls, but an impish smile grows on her lips, "So… have you had a chance to use them yet?"
Ah, Urbosa, perhaps this could be your path. For well you know that Minerva deeply desires those who are skilled in combat. By now you are the deadliest warrior in the desert, which makes you one of the deadliest in all Hyrule. Could this be how you steal her heart?
"Are you saying you would like to see me fight?" you excitedly prod.
"Of course I am!" Minerva grins, "When have I not wanted to see my Royal Guards get embarrassed? Come on!" And, like drawing you to the dancefloor at a gala, she grabs your hand. You follow her smile like campfires in the dark, on and on and on.
You arrive at the sparring circle just as three of your soldiers conclusively subdue ten armored Hylian voe. This, at least, is good. Your Gerudo have a reputation as some of the finest fighters in Hyrule, perhaps matched only by the Zora, who have centuries to master their silvery spears. It is good that the bruised Hylians will speak as such in the stables and taverns across the land. And 'tis a good sign for you, as you could do the same with but a single hand.
Ah, but into the circle walks that sandy haired knight from all those years ago, beard now thick and gold, shrugging off the cap and tunic of Hyrule's Royal Guard with a smug smirk. The voe of the Royal Guard cheer and toss their rupees into the betting pile as he pulls a sword and shield from the racks.
Minerva gasps, as eager as moonlight after a long summer day, "Yes! I have not seen him fight in years! I cannot wait for you to see it!"
Oh, what an idol your Minerva has. Now is your chance, Urbosa, to show your skill and strength. Now is your chance to cast the guardsman down from where he stands on high. Now is your chance to prove that you are worthy of Minerva's heart. You grasp hand on pommel, ready to draw your blades to her chosen champion, and challenge him at last.
But the bazaar bursts with a chorus of traders, clad in tunics of red and orange. The clamor erupts on a knight in their number, stature strong and tall. He demurs and declines, but the goading guards cannot be ignored for long. With a sigh, he stands, and the merchants approvingly roar.
"Those are Akkala colors," Minerva notes and your heart clenches at the embers in her eyes, "Some of them actually know how to fight. I heard a rumor the Duke was visiting, I wonder if this is his son. He certainly is big enough to be…"
The knight pulls a claymore from the racks, hefting it on his shoulder as if it were light as a simple wooden stick. As his eyes pass, they land on Minerva in her light desert dress. His eyes go wide and he bows his head, offering to her the palm of his hand.
Incredible. This fool knight must not know that he asks a favor of Hyrule's Princess. Only a dullard of the highest degree would ask for such from a lady whose station sits so far above one's own. Although…
You glance towards Minerva, her lips and eyebrows raised. She pulls a jeweled pin from within the folds of her dress and lays it lightly upon her fingers. Surely she would not… No, she pulls it back and instead pins up her hair. Will her arrogant guardsman ask for the same? No. He will not, but a haunting wink is sent her way.
The voe take their place in the sparring circle. They cross blades in the ancient ritual, invoking blessings from Farore, Nayru and Din.
And then, like a wildfire, it begins.
The guardsman strikes first, swinging his broadsword low, which the knight easily bats to the side. Then a whip of his claymore, met, just as effortlessly, by the guardsman's shield. A mighty slash from the claymore is dodged. A swift stab is countered. The roars of the crowd fly like vultures with every clang and burst of sparks.
But while the mob's eyes are fixed on the swords, your gaze is fixed on feet. And indeed, Urbosa, their footwork betrays that the fighters are far more skilled than they appear. There! Did you see? The guardsman could have followed his feint with the simplest of flicks, and struck a winning blow. And there! If the knight had brought his pommel up when he met the riposte instead of leaving it low, his foe would be disarmed, and victory would be assured.
Minerva has seen it as well. "Hmm," she says, frowning deep, "Do you think they are testing, or toying, with each other?" You shake your head. Such a waste of time. Both yours and theirs
But then the guardsman smirks, and leaps high into the air, blade poised to deal a perfect splitting strike on the knight's armored head…
CLANG!
No! The Akkalan knight blocks the strike just barely in time!
Startled, the guardsman stands stunned, barely readying his shield for the knight's counter. He sails backwards from the blow, landing heavy on his feet. When he raises his head, there is surprise all over his face, as the Akkalan knight wears a growl. Both know that few fighters could attempt such a strike, and even fewer could block it.
You watch as both voe delicately change their pose, and determination breaks across their brows. The onlooking crowd goes quiet enough to hear the very shifting of the sands… Then, with a roar and a shout, the voe charge, discarding all facades.
Finally! At last, a fight to be watched. Such will lift your inevitable success over whoever comes out on top! But hark, Urbosa, perhaps this shall not be as simple as you thought…
These voe are, as it seems, easily the two best Hylian fighters you have ever seen. Likely beyond most Gerudo as well. They move like a dance, covering the makeshift arena, laying rapid blow after blow after blow. You begrudgingly admit there is little that you would change from their choices, whether in attack, or defense. Are they beyond even your skill? No? You think not, and I must say that I agree. But if a duel arose, the conclusion would not be entirely foregone.
Blades clap and clash, metal on metal, over and over again, while the spectators hum with excitement. Your eyes are pledged to Minerva, but she cannot take her eyes off the duel. Do you see desire in the flush of her cheeks? Do you see her arms clasped to her breast? Do you see fire blossoming in her smile?
Ah, but you see, too, that the fight is coming to an end. Both voe pant with heavy breaths, sweat pouring in waterfalls off their brows. With a maddened yell the guardsman makes his final charge. You know such onslaughts well. This, now, shall decide it all. One shall triumph, and one shall fall. The knight swings his claymore up to catch the assault…
One blade's fatal edge meets one voe's neck, just as a deadly point taps the other voe's chest.
Both voe hold as steady as their weary muscles allow, breath ragged and rough, swords positioned for the kill. Each with a victorious blow, struck at the exact same time. They stand, tight and tense, almost perfectly still. Then, as one, they laugh and lower their blades, exuberantly grasping each other's hands.
Cheers explode around the bazaar, and the exhausted voe are swarmed by a throng of soldiers and traders, Gerudo and Hylians, voe and vai. The guardsman quickly finds himself among an array of Gerudo, arms enveloping their waist, smirk tight on his face. You grimace. Such gall. It seems he can look forward to quite an evening with one, or perhaps even all, of them. But what of the knight, Urbosa, who sought your dear friend's blessing before his blade hit the sky?
Graciously he accepts the admirers who approach, and just as graciously dismisses them. While the guardsman seems to invite the adoration, the knight is interested only in the cooler sands sitting in the shadow of a palm. He slumps to the ground with an exhausted thump, wiping his sopping brow with his sleeve.
Minerva turns to you, her eyes glazed like honey dripped upon wildberries, her smile breathless.
"That. Was. Incredible!"
What effort it takes not to frown, Urbosa! What pains you take to keep your face a blank and empty mask!
"It was an excellent fight, there is no doubt about that."
With a glance and a flirty wink you see Minerva shape her mind, "Shall we go say hello? I could use some fun before I get back to the castle..."
You start, "Minerva, wait. I-"
But, alas, Urbosa, she is already gone. Follow her, as you always will, to the knight, whose eyes are closed and muscles drawn.
"Not interested in sampling the desert wares, Sir Knight?" Minerva taunts.
His eyes open, and his jaw drops. You know his expression well, the way you know your mother's every smile and frown. Such a gawking stare was written on your face when you first met Minerva too, in this very oasis, surrounded by these very rocks.
Minerva gives him little time to compose himself, "Good. You know, if you are going to ask for a lady's favor, you really should be sure you can win." She lifts her brow, "Perhaps next time?"
"I…Yes…I," the knight stammers and shakes, eyes fixed upon Minerva, mouth agape, "F-forgive me, madam. I will be sure to do better if that day ever comes."
Minerva tilts to him, eager as a blushing castle maid, but as coy as a kiss, "I hope you shall, Sir Knight. I would love to see such a thing. But first," she leans back with a smirk, "Before I rate your performance further, what are your own impressions?"
The knight exhales with a whistling gust, "It was one hell of a fight! That man is quite the warrior, that much is for sure. I had to fight like a demon just to keep my head!"
"What do you expect when you challenge the best fighter in the Royal Guard?" Minerva smirks.
"He was in the Royal Guard?!" the knight incredulously spouts.
Minerva laughs, like waves in the bay, "Of course! Did you not notice his raiments?"
"I just thought he had nice clothes," The knight blinkingly shrugs, "That explains much. The Princess must be very well protected, then. Probably a good thing, too. I hear she is the most beautiful woman in the kingdom."
He places hand upon heart and lightly lowers his head, "You must forgive me for being so forward, madam, but if she does truly beat you out…" he whistles, "Goddess, I would love to see her some day if that is true."
Minerva coquettishly smiles, and trouble flashes in her eyes. Your heart burns like a bonfire at the sight. That look again. Minerva has decided this knight will, indeed, be fun in the end.
"Well, I imagine she would be greatly impressed with your skills, Sir Knight."
"You really think so?" the Knight dreamily beams.
Minerva winks, as alluring a siren, "I do indeed. Perhaps you could transfer to her personal guard so you could see for yourself."
Oh sweet Urbosa, you can take no more. Step into the space between them and anxiously interject, "Minerva…Wait, I-"
"Oh, yes," she grins, "Sir Knight, I would like to introduce you to Heroine Urbosa. She has just been named as the next Chieftain of the Gerudo. You have her to thank for us meeting today."
The knight's gaze jolts with surprise. As if, only now, did he notice you were there.
"Oh! Well, thank you then…um…er… sorgassa?" His brow curves into a confused frown, "Wait…No, that is not right, is it?"
You grunt and gruffly nod, "Vigilant in the sun, Gerudo never outdone. But-"
"Anyway," Minerva enters the conversation like a leap in the sea, "I must know, where did you learn to fight like that, Sir Knight?"
Ah, such a flirt is your Minerva! How it frolics from her breast like rabbits in spring. What a nitwit of a knight, who does not know what to do with it! But tell the truth Urbosa, would you know what to do if it were laid on you instead? Hurt grabs your heart as their eyes glow like fireflies flickering in the forest. As flushes spread across their faces like molten rock beneath the earth. As their smiles scatter like beams of light between the branches of trees.
I confess I have little of this story to tell, for you hardly hear their words; you resent their growing heat too much. For them it may be as kind as the warmth of an evening fire, but to you it is only akin to the spiciest of raw peppers, burning like acid on your tongue.
Your attention eventually returns…
"So, tell me," Minerva's voice dips low, "Is Akkala as romantic a place to walk with a lady at sunset as I imagine it to be?"
By the Goddess. No voe is so stupid as to mistake her intent. Surely, he too, must!
He is not so stupid, as it turns out. But only just.
His eyes blank in confusion, and then they glow with fearsome glee.
"You could come with us," he cheerily says, "We are leaving tomorrow and I would be more than happy to take you with me."
The burning blaze is as clear as the sun on their chests! Oh, Urbosa, how envious you grow!
"Show some proper respect, voe," you jealously scold, "For you are speaking to Minerva, Princess of Hyrule."
O, hold back your triumphant sneer, as the idiot knight blanches in fear! His eyes widen and his face turns as pale as bone.
With a playful nudge Minerva laughs, "Urbosa! You shouldn't spoil things, you know!"
"My lady," the knight bows as deep as the whirlpools of the eastern seas, eyes fixed to the ground. Minerva, for her part, offers the knight her gloved and jeweled hand. Subserviently, he kisses it, lingering lips on knuckles.
Oh, Urbosa, would you wish that Minerva was just your sovereign and not your friend? Would your lips then brush her fingers the way his do? Would this hold more worth than all the wealth of the Goron mines? The knight's eyes tick upwards, landing like a sparrow upon Minerva's face again. Once, such familiar behavior to the Princess would have resulted in a long and languorous visit to the castle dungeons. But, though times have changed, you would risk infinite such punishments, and you see that so too would he. In his gaze you see it, the same overwhelming attraction that you have for her, scattered in his pupils like stars on the plains.
Panic pounds at your heart. How could this happen? Will you be forced to face your nightmares, as Minerva welcomes this fool knight into her bed? Will your sweet dreams quietly slip away, like bards laying their songs on the people of some distant land? Will you forever be staring across the world, as peaceful night falls a thousand miles away?
How fortunate that, with a puff of smoke, a Shiekah guard appears, masked and clad in the colors of the deepest midnight. He bows to Minerva, "Your Highness, we can delay no longer."
Minerva sighs, "So soon, Persim? But I was having so much fun. Ah well. Such is life."
She airily turns, "Urbosa, will you accompany me and my guards to the canyon so we may properly say goodbye?"
You nod, eyes low and sad, "Of course, my lady." I am sorry, Urbosa, but you can feel the resignation dropping your heart into your gut, just as can I. Your moment has gone. Lost to the wailing winds like leaves lost when autumn slips soberly into winter.
"Again with, 'My lady,' Urbosa? Must you be so formal now that you have your swords?" Minerva teasingly huffs, "Ah, well, I suppose I could ask to be far, far worse."
Oh, feel not this ache, Urbosa. Your time will come. One day, in all the tomorrows yet to come, your nerves shall not desert you at the hour you need them most. A day will come when you shall kneel before her, hand on frantically beating heart, and profess your love in the sight of the Goddess and all of Hyrule itself. Until then, you can let her have her fun. For when that glorious day comes, will it really matter who kissed who first? Your love shall endure these trials like the immortal sun above. It matters not how dark the night may be, nor how hard it falls.
Minerva turns to the bulky knight, cheerful, and close as a caress, "Now then. Tell me your name, Sir Knight, so I can ensure we meet again."
But, wait, Urbosa, what is this tugging at the nape of your neck down into your spine? What is this sorrow spreading like cancer through your heart? Why do you mourn, as though some terrible battle has already been lost?
The knight speaks, full of hope and utterly rapt with awe.
"Rhoam, Your Highness. Rhoam Bosphoramous of Akkala."