uramii-archive

[uramii-archive]

How odd for Ganondorf to find this trotting back and forth cumbersome. As king he should flex the authority and have someone else do it but the trust just wasn't there. At least, not yet. For now he was resolved to gather all supplies on his own, attach it to his steed and then decompress for all of ten seconds afterwards. As if the uncharacteristically peaceful sleep after the carnage of the night before weren't enough.

First on his mind: food. Chef Gourd seemed like he knew his way around the kitchen so surely something edible had been produced by now. He'd have to commission something to eat as well. Teleportation was on the table as he displayed earlier but he wanted to give this man a fair chance. The extra time would do nothing but benefit him. Meanwhile Ganondorf was alone with his thoughts. It wasn't all bad once he let them wash over. From the entrance, to the second level of the castle, down the seemingly endless corridors... even at his modest pace it took him nearly ten minutes of trekking to finally make it to the Kitchen. The change in scenery nearly gave him whiplash. Though, what would renovations to the kitchen help with??

Well, when he'd come back he was met with two chef's this time and the helper Bokoblin he'd assigned. There was a dispute it seems.

"I'm to believe that this thing here will be helping us?? Who knows where it's hands have been, we serve under the same roof as the king himself!! Need I remind you that he murdered the last bits of royalty over us?" Despite the entrance this woman spoke freely. Ganondorf had some bit of respect forming for the fair-skinned lady. Gourd however argued also as if he weren't there. The shifting air was nothing to him. "The king himself gave us this imp to help. An' he said we can feed him our waste! Remember who runs stuff back here Cherril: me." A resounding thumb met Gourd's chest while the aforementioned Cherril's eyes narrowed. The corners of the lady's mouth turned up as her posture stiffened. She didn't like the thought even with Gourd throwing his weight.

". . ." Ganondorf's arms overlapped. He decided not to interject.

"Do you hear yourself? I thought you held yourself to a higher standard than to allow a monster back here." The beast in question was currently rummaging through a bag of apples. The hat given to him clung for dear life to it's head while it's uncoordinated movements jostled it. Apples were surrounding it and all of them fresh... except for the single morsel at the bottom of the bag. A few grunts escaped it's long maw while the apple was drawn forth in it's spoiled glory. The sounds were enough to draw everyone's attention towards it. Cherril practically gagged at the sight of the beast enjoying itself. Gourd began to grin as it swallowed the spoiled apple whole. Ganondorf was unmoved.

"YUCK, see?? Now we have to burn those apples!" She added.

"Workin' in the kitchen this long and you haven't heard of water Cherril? Tsk tsk, we can soak the apples and kill whatever germs they picked up. Listen, if he didn't find that apple, all of 'em would've gone bad."

Ganondorf chose no side. Instead, he simply reiterated a point.

"If you have a problem with the beast's presence, then speak with me later." Their heads turned to the king as he made himself known. Cherril nearly jumped from her skin as she realized everything she may have aired out in front of him meanwhile Gourd's expression reset.

"Breakfast for me and the guests. Do you have something to present, Chef Gourd? Also, I'll need rations made for me and three other people. Packed and ready to go within the hour if you can. Death Mountain calls." Seeing as their argument was set aside Ganondorf got right on to business. Chef Gourd nodded and motioned for Ganondorf to follow him deeper into the kitchen, meanwhile Cherril was pale as the king passed by, expecting some sort of explosive bout aimed at her but it scared her further that no such thing was happening. Did he not find anything she said offensive?? If he was combatting guests then who was she? The issue she had would remain between her and Gourd until further notice...

">>The cavalry saddle has everything she'll need anyway.<<"

Nita stood, hands on her hips and glaring down Markesh as he stubbornly fought for the request set on him from his dear Imperial. Artillery tack or bust, apparently.

">>She was very specific in asking for the artillery set.<<" he reiterated, standing equally as stubborn in the face of the handler. ">>It's not my job to question what she wants, so long as she gets it and gets it from an expert.<<"

">>While I see what you're trying to do, I remind you that artillery tack is heavy and hard to handle for one person to take on and off.<<" Nita fought back, her face twisting as she recognized his attempt to flatter her into service.

">>I highly doubt she's going to want to take it off, she may as well leave it on.<<"

Nita paused at this, thinking it over. Trying to read between the lines of the orders given and Markesh's own pushing back against her suggestions. ">>...So we are going to war then...<<"

It was the only thing that made sense to her as to why saddle a Dragon with artillery tack instead of the lighter cavalry variant. It wasn't light riding, it wasn't a casual jaunt through the local landscapes, it wasn't some romantic outing although the thought had crossed her mind given the audience. That left only one reason left.

">>Unfortunately not.<<" Markesh replied, poking holes in the Dragon master's bubbles of hope. ">>Not for want of trying, I think it would do the mainland better.<<"

">>...You said something and she said no huh.<<" Nita said, quirking a brow up. ">>You know what, fine. Artillery tack. At least Bucephalus is a lineage that can handle it for long periods. I'm not dealing with Styx right now...<<"

With a haughty nod of his head and a firm, ">>Thank you!<<" Markesh turned to leave Nita to her job. He was on his way around the outer ring of wagons when motion caught his eye and he stopped. Dark eyes here laid on the emerging King, a glimpse of the last of the teleportation he'd used to exit the castle. Thankfully, none of the wagons were in his path as he turned and headed away from them, but Markesh did weep internally for the shrubbery of the gardens that was incapable of moving...

A stop at the kitchens again was made, this time to pick up just more tea. He felt it was going to be a little longer to wait for any departure, and sought to pass the time to sip at the spiced milk tea until then.

It wasn't hard to locate Fariah, having finished the morning ceremonies for the holiday with the rest of the caravan who needed the boost. Master of ceremonies where an Oracle was not present, such was the Imperial's job as well.

">>Well, our King is awake. Just spotted him storming through the gardens, I fear for who or whatever has his ire this time...<<" Markesh told her, waiting for her to finish to offer her a seat at a bench nearby. ">>Frankly, for all his huff and hurry yesterday, I'm surprised he's taking so long.<<"

">>Yes, well ... tadika-tadika, it gives me time to properly establish our little sphere of influence here.<<" she replied, accepting a cup from her Regent of steaming tea. ">>I suspect Nita gave you trouble with the request.<<"

">>Honestly, I told her you asked for it and she tried to downgrade to cavalry levels.<<" Markesh sighed, pouring a cup for himself as well. ">>But the job got done, I'll talk to the kitchens here for travel fare when she delivers Bucephalus to us.<<"

">>Very good. As it should.<<" she chuckled, finally feeling like the haze of exhaustive sleep was leaving her. ">>When does the gun arrive, any estimations?<<"

He shrugged in response. ">>Oh, I would say a day and a half to two days from now. You should be back by then, I would think.<<"

">>Depending on how long talks there take, if they are needed. It is hard to tell, Gorons pride strength overall but it was kind of a vague point. I may be out there longer than I intended to make sure we are on good footing with them first.<<" she sighed.

">>I will be here regardless, to accept the gun or welcome you back, whichever is first.<<" he assured her before breaking the brief silence that followed. ">>Are we really getting a mine?<<"

">>Above and below, I hope so.<<" she laughed at his reaction, draining her cup to dredges. ">>It is ... surreal, isn't it...<<"

Markesh repeated it, with more confidence behind it. Despite the last day or so, he was feeling in better spirits now with the realization. ">>We're getting a mine.<<"

[uramii-archive]

The grit to go through everyday life with growing pains wasn't a bother to Ganondorf. Learning the layout of this castle however along with making peace traversing it would definitely be amongst those growing pains. He'd left his chambers and helped someone earlier he was riding on a high and that was dampened by the distance from the Dining hall to the entrance. His once quiet steps were hitting the ground with more and more force leaving any who passed by him to give him far more space than needed to walk.

Twas then that the mood boiled over and grimaces joined the sound of his armored feet impacting the floor. Yet, then an idea formed. He'd stop in place.

He could in fact get around far easier. Learning the layout could come later he didn't need to hamper himself with such an objective right this second. A deep breath was taken and his eyes closed... Harnessing the power of Twilight took no effort at all. His body began to dissipate into specs of that same energy that plagued Hyrule not too long ago and just like that he was gone. There happened to be a witness to his magic and the male didn't know what to do with himself realizing how their king could just up and vanish like that. First he was angry then he dissolved. What was he to say?

His emergence happened within the courtyard. The same energy and style brought him to form just before the entrance to the castle proper and when he had came to be his steely gaze surveyed the landscape. Currently he wasn't seeking out anybody in particular: he wanted to see Phantom before their big trip. The tiny excursion he spent with his trusted horse was an indication of it's stable performance yet he just felt the gnawing worry dawn on him as this morning did. Although Phantom wasn't of this world it was still precious to him. One of the only remnants of a life long gone.

His disgruntled stride adjusted to wade through any obstacles whether they be people or temporary structure erected by the Sidhe to get to the stables. The frown he wore didn't strain his face like normal nor did the brow seem as furrowed. Though at the same time he was on a mission. Nothing more than a passing glance was given to anything he saw. He'd passed by just in time to hear the practical war-cries of the Sidhe as they saluted their Empress. His head did turn a moment to acknowledge it then he continued. He'd have more than enough time to behold her while traveling together. Truly Ganondorf couldn't be bothered. It wasn't anyone's fault but his own for skipping meals.

As his presence became known to the lesser horses they'd reel in protest. All but Phantom reacted overtly to his dark influence. Ganondorf paid them no mind however and made a b-line to his companion. When near enough the horse gave a low whinny. Ganondorf smiled.

"Are you ready to see the kingdom? To finally ride after so long within the void?" Phantom saluted by standing upon it's back legs a moment. When it returned to a neutral stance Ganondorf's hands met it's snout and that smile grew more genuine.

"Good! I will return with my gear and the roads themselves will fear us." The grandstanding wasn't lost upon his steed. It whinnied again in response and the pair seemed to have higher spirits from this little moment spent together. Another pat was bestowed upon his steed and then Ganondorf departed. Twas worth all that travel for a single moment with Phantom. Now it's time to go and demand food from Gourd. The Bokoblin should have been more than enough to hurry the process along after all.

">>He should be awake by now.<<" Markesh quipped, staring with a ticked side-eye in the general direction of the castle through the wall of the wagon that was his Imperial's designated board. ">>I'm surprised he isn't out here, breathing down our necks as to why we aren't ready yet.<<"

">>Morning is a bane of everyone in different ways.<<" Fariah told him, holding back the yawn that threatened to keep her from finishing her breakfast honey roll. ">>I would suppose he is busy tormenting his own kitchen staff, if he is smart about travelling.<<"

">>I may have some words pertaining to that...<<" he muttered, keeping his Empress from retorting with a twist of his wrist and an expert pull on the corset ties.

Although the plate held together in the side joints with overlapped sturdy hooks, such panels were still stabilized against falling apart with hefty leather ties. Not only did they provide a failsafe should a hook come undone to keep the lightweight plating in place, it used the design of the segments to follow the shape of the wearer, offering both protection and subtlety. Flexible pauldrons lead into plates on the upper arms, hip skirting attached to the lower part of the corset hooked into casings for the thighs, all over the top of the necessary padded undergarments, pressed thin to provide protection from the plate and not bulk the profile.

">>I would prefer if you did not share these words. I understand you do not like him...<<" she began, receiving a derisive snort of her Regent as he pulled the silken blouse over the top and began adjusting it appropriately.

">>I hold more than dislike for the man, you know.<<" he interrupted, hooking the top of the slit in the sleeves under the edge of the pauldrons and the bottom of it into the joint just above the elbow.

A window on each arm to show the glimpse of armoring, an elegant show of military might without disregarding protection. The sleeves held silvery motifs across saturated orange on the pastel mint of the base silks, mirrored in the body of the blouse, though they only went halfway up the sleeves themselves. A drawstring at the bottom hems of both sleeves and the body were pulled and tied, tightening the otherwise flowing fabric to her body to prepare for the next step.

">>If you hated him any more than you do now, I would be able to tangibly taste it.<<" she sighed, stepping into a pair of pants reinforced for both covering the casings on her thighs and for riding without removing the aesthetics of the full wardrobe set. Like the sleeves of the blouse, the legs only showed embellishment above the knee, the flowing plain lower half pulled tight at the bottom hems around her ankles.

">>I'm surprised I haven't turned that honey roll rotten.<<" he quipped again, offering her a kerchief to wipe her now-sticky fingers off on before pulling one arm up to begin fixing the bracer and gauntlet over her gloved hand and lower arm on the outside of the reinforced silks of the blouse, meeting the elbow joint of the plating above. Elegant lines, made to fit the form and flow into the peeking pieces above, the process was repeated on the other arm.

">>Ah yes. I forgot to mention, we accidentally might have left the mage in the archives last night.<<" Markesh added on nonchalantly while hooking and pulling the plate on the second arm.

">>Above and below, are they alright?<<" Fariah asked him, looking down as he indicated the knee-high riding boot to her, plain in polished black leather. She offered a foot, then the other one as he shook his head.

">>They came to when everything was already done at least. And even decided to check in and gather the notes we had to leave behind in the dining room.<<" he told her, lacing the first boot with the practiced hand one might expect of a veteran Regent, moving to the second one. ">>I have them right ... here...<<"

He offered a stack of paper up to her. Some of the pages were torn, some looked like they had been drenched in something, a few corners crusty with some unknown substance she was almost afraid to ask about. But most of the scroll was readable and most of the pages were still there and she began reorganizing the stack to the best of her knowledge to reread the contents to remember what she had written down.

The prior leg was offered when Markesh tapped her boot and he wasted little time lifting and twisting gently to affix the first of the greaves. Like the bracers, they were not overtly embellished, but flowed into the hidden line of the thigh casing, ending at the cap on the knee from the bridge of a foot and around the elevated heel of the boot.

">>They said retrieving them was difficult, but not due to our temperamental King. Or maybe it was, I don't really know, the excuse was cryptic. I quote: 'I had to wrestle the dining room table for them'.<<" Markesh continued, making sure to accentuate every syllable of the quote while beginning on the second greave by slipping her foot into the bridge until it fit snuggly next to the boot heel.

">>Well. That was very kind of the--<<" Fariah paused as the subject in the news processed in her ears and she dropped the stack with a crinkly rustle she didn't like the sound of really. ">>--I'm sorry, they wrestled the what!?<<"

The Regent shrugged, making a noncommittal noise in his throat at the expulsion before finishing the hooks and ties of the second greave. ">>You can ask them before you leave, if you like, but I doubt the answer is changed. They seemed fairly committed to it when I asked about it.<<"

">>It's far too early to think about these implications and therefore, it is really not worth it. Clearly, they have earned a little rest today. See to it they get it, Markesh.<<" she told him, returning to the shuffling of her papers while stepping into a knee-length ruffling skirt he offered her.

">>I shall do my best for them. It must be quite upsetting, being beset by furniture...<<" he laughed a little, pulling the strings of the skirt at her waist and wrapping the seam tightly with a length of silk embellished the same as the rest and tucking it carefully into itself to hide the knot he placed in it to hold it in place. ">>There. My darling ladies, she is ready for your capable hands.<<"

The women who had attended their Empress in the bathing wagon before had followed the pair as per Markesh's request; while he was good at applying a wardrobe, his hands and eyes were terrible for hair and face. That was better left to other young ladies in the delegation, and they fluttered from the sides of the small chamber like little birds to their Imperial's side.

Combs and adornments were present in each of their hands and while she continued to read the notes she had written to catch herself up, they brushed through her wild tangle of a drying mane. Expert hands wrapped the copious nebula around itself against a hidden form, braiding strings of cowrie shells and longer garlands of pearls into the bun forming at the back of her head. A ring of shells spiraled around the lump, braided into strands of pearls to drape across the back of her neck and into a metal crook that sat across the top of her ears.

The notes were momentarily disregarded as with the inky tresses contained, the attendants painted her face fresh. Commands akin to 'close your eyes' and 'pucker the lip' prevented her from seeing what she was reading through. It was easier to wait as she followed the commands issued, closing her eyes for color and sharp thick lines, pouting for a splash of accent, holding her breath for emphasis on her facial angles with powders and light pastes. Jewelry was minimal; a pair of dangling earrings in the shape of a lotus formed of cut and set padparadscha, a motif mirrored in a solid silver cuff that clicked shut around her lower neck with pearl drapes. The ragged scar across the right side of her neck was still clearly visible, the lighter skin accentuated by the flash off the silver.

">>Arsenal.<<"

At her single word, powders and puffs were replaced with a short collection of several small knives, which she slipped into hidden slots and sockets along the length of greaves and bracers, clicking the subtle grips of the little blades into place to lock them until needed. A nod and mention of thanks to her impromptu attendants was given as she reached her right hand out and summoned the Aeroglaive to her. The enchanted weapon flew from its resting place on her bunk, still unchanged in its diminutive baton, and she slipped it into a sleeve made just for it on the outside of the right greave. Always there, always accessible, in the case it was needed as a weapon or as proof.

Markesh was already waiting by the door, holding out her cleaned and sheathed yatagan to her as completion, draping the crown over her head as the final touches when she took the sword. A faint creak of leather was given as she reacquainted herself with the weight and length of the blade, taking a deep breath to recenter herself for the task ahead.

">>Don't you worry, you are a vision.<<" Markesh chimed, holding the door open so she drank the morning air and sun for a moment.

Activity stopped among the delegation as the sun caught the Empress, playfully sparking along the threads and gems, limning over the visible plate. Their Imperial in full regalia, they hit the ground on their knees in perfect unison to touch the earth at her feet and raise the blessed energy to show adoration. Customary greetings to those they saw as holy, though she knew further instances would be with the simple bow as they rose in equal sync. They showed her reverence, and she would work to make their lives better.

">>May the Second Day of Nine be fruitful.<<" she announced, taking regards to the second set of colored flags flying beneath Sidhe banners on the wagons. ">>Honor the Unmarried Goddess as the scholar. May she bless you in your thanks and reverence for the coming year to the next Nine Nights with maternal love and adoration. Enjoy your festivities.<<"

A cheer of acceptance and agreement was issued, and once the revelry had died enough they were returning to their daily tasks, Fariah looked over her shoulder to lay her gilded gaze onto Markesh.

">>Have Bucephalus made up with the artillery tack, if you would.<<" she told him, pursing her lips as he made to argue and then thought better of it. ">>The saddle is softer and has better storage space than the cavalry tack does.<<"

Ah yes. Though she was capable of mostly ignoring it, the thought of a long ride reminded her of the dull ambient ache still in her joints. There was no more argument from her Regent, just a simple thinning of his own lips as he was off to do his requested duty.

A huff of a sigh was released again as she made her way to the center of the community grounds between wagons, staring tiredly up toward the castle building itself. There hadn't been any noise from up there, she almost wondered if the new King was even awake. For all his noise and bluster the day before, she couldn't imagine he would be anything other than blatant.

At least it gave her a chance to settle in and adjust to her extra weight. Small victories and all that.

[uramii-archive]

Now comes the fun part: negotiating something to eat with kitchen staff! Ganondorf descended upon the kitchen with a chip on his shoulder. The head chef himself was still cleaning up the mess from last night made by the ruckus outside the kitchen and within their hearts. Much like how he felt the slightest bit bad over the table, Ganondorf felt responsible for all this. Chef Gourd looked up from the splatter he was mopping and beheld the king. Although Ganondorf intimidated most, Chef Gourd had gotten a good reaming from him already and seemed to accept that may happen today juxtaposed between the mountain of a man and getting his kitchen cleaned.

But, that isn't what happened. Despite Ganondorf explicitly expecting breakfast it wasn't fair to put so much pressure on the staff when they were doing their best.

"Your hands are full I see." He began. "None of the others are awake either."

"No they aren't sir. Just me." Brief. Ganondorf could appreciate that. Mostly because he seemed to be bracing for something or trying to understand where this would go.

"If I'm awake then that means our guests are as well. Thusly we will be hungry. I'll get you some help." Ganondorf then cracked his joints while Chef Gourd sought to dissuade him.

"N-no sir that won't be necessary. This is my kitchen and I'll take responsibility." Gourd spoke but there was no convincing Ganondorf.

"This all happened due to me so I will take responsibility." Ganondorf aimed his palms at the ground and out poured a malevolent purple energy. As it pooled on the ground out emerged one of those same monsters that could've been seen terrorizing the kingdom weeks before: a Bokoblin. The creature stood arched forward, sniffing the air quickly while it's head jutted back and forth to identify it's surroundings. Gourd was hiding ineffectively behind his broom while Ganondorf gestured towards him.

"Now now, no need for all that. This one will follow commands. They aren't inherently hostile you see, they just look a certain way." He could relate. "You!" Ganondorf called it to attention and it straightened out slightly, turning to receive it's command. "This is Chef Gourd." Ganondorf pointed at the man who was seeming to ease up but internally he was wondering why such a beast to begin with. "You will assist him and his workers in this kitchen. Whatever they ask, do it without question or incident."

The beast then approached Chef Gourd who shivered. Ganondorf looked to the Chef expectantly. He was actually the slightest bit eager to see him use this new resource he'd allotted for him. "O-okay um.... we need the floors cleaned and dishes washed. Can you do that?" The Bokoblin let off an inhuman yell then snatched the broom him, furiously cleaning the stubborn spot he was stuck on. When Gourd looked to Ganondorf he was standing straight with his head tilted back to indicate a certain turn in his emotions. "Well?" Gourd certainly found it odd and the creatures appearance was off but if it was going to do the work unquestioningly then he'd be the one to explain to his workers this was their assistant.

"Erm, thank you sir. I'll get started on breakfast right away."

That made Ganondorf's smile brighten. "Delightful! Also, they don't need cooked food as we do. Feed him scraps, raw meat. Anything spoiled as well and he'll be fine." Gourd wasn't going to think too hard about that. Instead he nodded and Ganondorf swiftly left the kitchen.

"I just hope no one quits now that they have to work with a monster.... but if we're still all here after the coup, then this shouldn't be so bad." He spoke to himself, turning to see his new assistant had scrubbed out the spot with ease. Gourd was....impressed. The Bokoblin diligently worked on other regions of the kitchen floor with an uncanny yet efficient workflow. "They should understand." He found himself convinced.

When exiting the kitchen Ganondorf heard a low growl. He instantly was on alert but as he surveyed the dining hall he saw no one and sensed no one either. There wasn't anyone but him and the furniture. "...." Ganondorf took a few steps further and the growling ceased. It was definitely cause for concern but he couldn't find it's source. Perhaps some small creature took up residence in the castle? Well. So long as it minds it's business he should be able to locate it before it attacks anyone.

"Whatever." He discarded the thought while admiring his handiwork on this new table he patched together the night before.

Such a marvel were the bathing wagons. Equipped with their own water tank and chamber for safe heating, they provided exactly what was needed when it was needed. A fair few rounds of filling the tub within the privatized confines of the mobile bathrooms made certain that long periods of travel did not leave the delegation party without means to keep themselves clean and healthy, and it was to one of them that Fariah found herself soaking.

Not alone, mind. With her and Markesh making the morning appearance, the rest of the delegation had begun to stir and move. The three wagons that were relegated as functioning kitchens were already in full swing, baking and cooking the morning meals from their regular travel stock. Small banners the color of pastel mint were raised to match the vibrant yellow ones of the day before, the second day of the holiday week designated.

Markesh had left his Empress in the capable hands of several of their women to do what he meant to do, skipping his way across the half-circle of wagons and horses to one of the kitchens. Honey rolls were always on the morning menu, as well as a simple hashed egg, spinach, and creamy yak-milk sauce over flavorful rice and a piping spiced milk tea. He stopped on the way to ask one of the other ladies and her escort to choose riding silks in the same pastel mint greens, perhaps one with silvery embellishment on saturated orange. After all, their Imperial was supposed to ride out this morning to solidify the mining deal, she needed to still be exquisite while functional. With bowed acknowledgement from the dressmakers, he wound his way around the flurry of renewed morning activity back toward where he left his Imperial.

There were startled yelps from the women attending their Empress as the young Regent slipped into the bathing wagon with them, though with assurances from Fariah he was meant to be there, they smoothed their ruffled demeanours and permitted him among them with a huff. He looked on plaintively as he noticed more and more discolored spots across her body now that she was out of the heavy court dress and wiped clean of make-up. They weren't deep, he could tell by the color, and would probably fade more over the course of the day. But it still worried him all the same, especially concerning the King's apparent temperament.

The plates and bowls and tea-things were laid on the table near the tub, the hash poured over the rice of the bowl with the chai poured steaming into the cup. It was a simple but fine spread for the waking Imperial while the attendants combed the inky mass of a mane with soaps first and then the rose oils, applying scrubs of scented soap and sea salt across her shoulders and back. Anything lower was up to her for later, a feigned sense of privacy as she slowly indulged of the meal given her.

">>I have the dressmakers picking out the riding dress for you<<." Markesh related, listening to her hum in approval. ">>I will send for the light plate and have it delivered before you are out of the bath, then have Makar tacked up and ready for the ride ou--<<"

">>I am not taking Makar.<<" Fariah finally spoke up, her voice starting to regain its low rich tones after sipping at the tea a few times. ">>I would prefer it if Bucephalus was tacked and ready.<<"

While she agreed on wearing the plate and the lighter riding silks, she knew how it would play out. A hand went up to silence Markesh as he opened his mouth to protest.

">>Makar is a fine stallion, and he is very strong and very fast. But I do not know the distance outside of 'half a day' to my destination.<<" she explained, making the face of a stern mother as her Regent once more made a noise to argue. ">>Bucephalus is not the fastest of horses, this is true. But he does have an almost limitless stamina that will keep us moving with fewer stops. I feel our new friend will appreciate that more. Besides, he rides smoother, Makar is rougher in his stride. I do not think I can handle the jostle...<<"

">>...Fine.<<" Markesh agreed with some hesitation. ">>I will take Makar then.<<"

">>You will do no such thing.<<" It was hissed out, around a mouthful of honey roll. ">>You are staying here, in the castle.<<"

">>I am sorry, but I refuse your order, for the safety and sanctity of the Imperial Crown of Sidhe!<<" He added as she shot him the most venomous glance she could around the remaining faint haze of her nightmarish morning, ">>That man attacked you and put his hands on you while you were unconscious! He has proven he cannot be trusted, and if I am not there to protect you, he may do something worse!<<"

">>...'Had his hands on me', how, exactly...?<<"

">>He had you on his arm, after clearly assaulting the both of us. I do not trust him, and I refuse to leave you alone with him, it is my duty to protect you.<<"

She sighed a little at the sound of her Regent's prominent pouting. She doubted that for all of his violence and destructive abilities, Ganondorf was at least not what he was being accused of.

She had felt afraid on waking, that much was true, her adrenaline had spiked in some form of unknown terror remaining in her system. But she hadn't felt ... oily. Like her skin was trying to get away from her. Even in the heavy exhaustion of draining her energy reserves, she knew what things like that felt like residually. Markesh was over-exaggerating, or had misread something. Still, she could commend him for doing his duty, as misguided as it was now.

">>...I will be fine. If he tries anything, I promise I will return alone.<<" she assured him. ">>But he has no Regent, no court to leave in charge here in an absence. As a show of good faith despite circumstances, you will be acting Regent here. We should not be long.<<"

">>And how exactly does he feel about this decision.<<" he asked, though it was less a question and more an observation, as Fariah refused to meet his eyes for a moment and quietly chew the hash. ">>I see. We have yet to talk to him about it.<<"

">>I am sure he is more ... amicable ... this morning and will see reas--Markesh, derisive laughter is not helping --see reason. Your role here is just as important as mine is. But if you should purposefully sabotage this, I will hang you myself. Are we clear.<<"

He was the one now who refused to meet her eyes, but she knew he would do as told. Markesh was anything if not loyally dedicated to his job and his Empress, and he would kill himself before he had to suffer any of her actual disappointment should he ever do something to irk such resentment.

She sighed as her final orders were given and reveled in relaxation finally. The hot water of the bath most certainly did its job as intended, and she felt the stress and fatigue and the majority of the soreness leave her system with the smell of rose oil clinging to the steam wafting off the water. She closed her eyes when bade, the last rinse cascading over her head as Markesh rose to stand, making his way for the door with a wave to the attendants.

">>I am going to go for the plate now. I'll return when I have it on its way.<<" he announced.

">>I will finish here. Do not be too long, if you would.<<" she replied, shifting to better reach the scrub as offered. Oh, if she could only soak longer, but morning waits for no one, apparently...

[uramii-archive]

"Curious...?" Such a thing gave him pause. Ganondorf was only curious of the things that would further his goals in the long run. If this is supposed to be him he had reason to believe that he'd be the same way... however, if Fariah is to be believed then he's in a resurrection loop. The fact he was talking to himself wasn't too hard to grasp and if this version of himself managed to gather all three pieces of the sacred relic then that further separates them. So, Ganondorf took a deep breathe then exhale. As the air left him so did his hesitations.

"My reign, Toba, is one word thus far: boring! There was much and more in the ways of administration involved running the meager settlement we Gerudo had in the desert. An entire kingdom however has infinitely more moving parts and I have yet to hit my stride with doing this paperwork. I've still got to pick out my delegation." Then came a grumble. He wasn't even certain delegation was the correct term. These were slightly personal details but if he was to practice things like trust and good faith who better then.... himself?

"Frustrating would be another word then. If I pick people based off the need to shrug off work then I risk opening myself up to subterfuge. Thusly I must take things slowly." "When I murdered that blasted princess and her knight I failed to extract their pieces beforehand. A century adrift would make anyone hasty in their execution of.... executions." He cleared his throat. "I must hand it to you: you've succeeded where I failed. I've coveted the entire thing for far too long, only to let it slip through my fingers. Narrowly at that." A genuine bit of introspection and praise from the man.

Continued (x) || @uramii

Well, this is a pleasant surprise; there is no need to defend himself for the moment. His counterpart is smart enough to think before acting, something he can't say about all of them. He does suppose Wisdom isn't something many of the Boarbloods incarnate with, so it follows suit.

Hearing that little utterance is quite amusing for the visitor. There's never a day gone by without something happening, be it positive or negative. He won't comment on that, not to this Ganondorf. He's still reeling with speculative information.

"To simplify this, you may refer to me by my middle name, Toba. Your Majesty would also suffice, but we are both kings, so I do not see a need for titles." He pauses, giving the faintest hint of a smile as he addresses another elephant in the room. "I am in possession of all three pieces of the Triforce. Do not worry yourself; I am not here to conquer what you already have. No, I am more curious as to how your reign is proceeding comparatively to my own."

[uramii-archive]

"..." Nothing aside from the king's soft snoring could be heard within his bedchamber. The bed was foreign to him yet too comfortable to scrutinize. The sleep he'd gotten in this was among the best in his entirely too long life. Ganondorf was getting the royal treatment even in his sleep! Great for him right? Well, when he begins doing paperwork and having to spend 30-50% of his time reading that idea may change. There was no dream that filled his head only vague shadows lurking behind the eyelids that barely held shape. Even then, his mind wasn't a horrific place(for him) to be in when alone. Even though he came out no worse for wear he did have to exert himself in the skirmish enough to warrant some restorative sleep.

A solid seven hours was all he'd needed! Sprawled across the mattress placed upon the stressed frame as it was made for two normal-sized Hylians not one normal sized Gerudo man. With his hair free to find it's home, wherever that may be, and his armor discarded Ganondorf felt as though he was enjoying living in the castle. The very one at the center of the Kingdom he'd so long loathed.

Luckily he was allowed to stir awake naturally and on his own. A hand met his eyes to remove the build-up from the night whilst the free arm extended upward to get a much-needed stretch in. Despite sleeping upon his back he still felt the base need to stretch when awake. He'd never understand why. Another unfortunate side effect of being within this mortal coil was the sudden anger that set upon him. He felt as though he could rip cannon in half with his bare hands. Then, it had occurred to him: he didn't eat last night.

The anger seemingly accumulated when he went long periods without eating and he'd been sidetracked by their battle last night, prompting him to clean up and go to bed instead of stopping for a bite. At the very least, this moment afforded him clarity to plot a course: He would get up, get cleaned then dressed, commission a meal for both him and the guests, then set off to see the Gorons on his steed... it was time his fateful horse saw the open world again. In a leisurely way this time instead of on the battlefield.

"Solid. Time to execute." He spoke to himself to acknowledge the short-term plan while scooting off the bed and standing at full height. "We're due to speak with the Gorons and I'm certain they'll understand. It'll be interesting seeing them again." He saw fit to reminisce about the bygone era while motioning to get ready for the day.

"Do I always look so mighty?" A little bit of mirror pep-talk. He was trying to look past the hunger-induced bit of anger in his belly to try and have a great day. As he crowned himself to restrain his now braided hair Ganondorf beheld the sight of himself fully-dressed in the same armor he was almost executed in. It filled him with joy to realize he'd survived so many obstacles to make it here and stand victorious. Maybe he should at the very least get it repaired? Or get new armor commissioned??

No, it's fine. The hole in his stomach would heal.

Ganondorf left his personal chambers to begin making his way to the dining room. Time to quell the curse of hunger and satiate his building appetite.

Story Arc || Favor

There is a rustling sound, coming from outside the door of her room.

She knows that sound, has listened to it for just over a decade now. Has been soothed by it in knowing it exists. The clacking ruffle of leaves, the rubbing of serrated edges against themselves. The creak of the vines as the flowers turn so the little skull-faces in the centers face upright. The corpse-eater is moving, as it is wont to do. But it is so very loud, louder than it should be.

She should not be able to hear it here, in her innermost sanctum. Yet, it echoes off the marble of her room and her apartment and drowns out even the ambiance of trickling waters in the fountains of the hub. She is not panicked by this revelation, slipping out of bed in curiosity instead to check on it, the cool of the marble floors against her footpads. The lack of decoration in the room as she moves from one chamber to another, and another, and another.

And another, and another, until she finally reaches the door and hears the encompassing boom and trickle of shattered glass cascading to the floor on the other side of it. Now, she is afraid. Such a sound is so close, but even in this newfound panic, she cannot seem to move fast enough.

The door is open.

The hall beyond is swimming in tiny cubed shards of glass, ebbing and roiling until it comes up to her knees. She wades into it, the blue sky around her in the expanse beginning to turn red at the edges, black seeping into that slowly like ink spilled on paper.

It takes her a moment to realize those inky tendrils are vines. The leaves are coming into view at her sides. There is a single blossom in front of her face, opening those vibrant red petals so the eerie center can face her. It's not the usual skull. It's his face. Staring at her with those hollow angry eyes, talons of his fingers raking up her arms. She cannot panic, even though she feels her heart in her throat. Even though she know's what's coming and feels her skin crawl in anticipation. She can only stare ahead until those needly fingers drive deep into the flesh of her shoulders.

It's only now she can scream...

:: ~ :: ~ :: ~ :: ~ :: ~ ::

The door to her wagon was flung open, the rays off a burning sun cresting the horizon still bright enough to draw Markesh's shadow long along the floor. It was bright enough that as soon as the light touched Fariah's face, she was instantly awake enough to shy from it as though it burned her with a small cry. She turned her back to the door, hid her face deep behind the curve of her body within her own shadow, and tried to remember why it was her nerves were on fire, her chest heaving and her heart thudding in attempted escape through her ribcage.

Or even why her head hurt so badly. Nightmares never brought on migraines, not before. She was more than certain she had been having a nightmare, although she couldn't remember what it was or what was happening in it.

Something triggered it. Something that gave her a seering headache that fogged her head something horribly as though she were swimming through cotton, and made the muscles in her arms and back ache. Was she bruised as well? Shallow splotches of discoloration had begun appearing across one palm and in the space between her thumbs, the skin as tender as the mending wound over a few of her fingerpads.

She had never thought she would wake up battered and bruised and still with the haze of being completely exhausted ever again, and yet here she was. Waking up feeling like she'd been run over by the armada. She was going to need a very stiff drink.

All of this happened over such a quick course of time, Markesh had barely even begun. A flourish of his hand was given as he strode into the cabin, to her bunk.

">>Good morning, Your Eminence!<<" he began, sounding far too chipper for her liking this early in the morning. He continued insufferably on as she made a particularly discontented noise. ">>I am so sorry to wake you at this horrific hour of dawn, but if you recall, we have an appointment to keep. Although I have no idea how well you remember anything right now...<<"

Fariah took a moment to fight back as her Regent grabbed the blanket she had so ungracefully tangled herself into and tried to whisk it away. She failed, miserably trying so very hard to clutch at the retreating bed linen, resulting in the offensive covering revealing that she had been placed in her bunk still clothed in the heavy court silks, although her mane had been let down in a nebulous cloud of ink once disentangled from its ornamentation otherwise. It was any wonder she had trouble moving in her dreams, the layers of her skirts and the corsetry in her bodice bogging her want to move.

">>Let me sleep.<<" she protested fitfully, her voice coarse and rough from exertion followed by disuse. ">>Just for another year...<<"

She remembered the appointment vaguely. She was supposed to meet with someone. Or a ... someones? A grumbled acceptance of the later itinerary was given, although Markesh was not one to simply give up.

">>Oh come now, I need to get you up and bathed and dressed and fed! Are we going to war!<<"

It crossed her mind that one of the transcribed agenda was not quite like the others. The revelation was offset by the flood of remembering. Oh yes, the Gorons. The fight. The boiled blood trying to bubble once more, although she was certain that was simply Markesh itching for a fight rippling the hivemind. Instead, she focused her energy on addressing the deviously charismatic elephant in the room, staring in anticipation at her answer to the most pressing question.

">>No. We are not going to war.<<"

If Markesh could deflate any more obviously at this news, he would have made a sound. Instead, he sighed at her decision. She had made her choice, and while she knew he knew why, he could only follow it. Starting a war here and now with so little military power against something like the new King of Hyrule was worse than suicide. If the dining room table had been any indication, their small task force would be crushed in an instant, no matter how well-trained or how bloodthirsty they were.

Having to think on the decision gave her the push she needed to start pulling herself up, and instantly she regretted it. The added weight of the gown and the jewelry was only reminding her of how much she had actually exerted. The migraine was beginning to ebb, but the fog remained. It was enough to process the pinging ache of her everything and hardly much else. Except...

">>But. In lieu of war. We are getting a mine.<<"

It sounded so strange to say the result in positive for once. One hundred and fifty or so years. Four and a quarter generations of Imperial blood prostrating on their own terms to vie for a stable mining operation and refinery in front of old men and women too stubborn and paranoid for their own good for nothing of that nature in return. Of course, it would take a vicious boar of a man to finally say 'yes', although he had an ulterior motive. Not a secret one, at least...

She was grateful for her Regent as she finally stumbled to her feet. A bit prematurely, as the weight of her wardrobe caused a knee to buckle. He was there to still catch her and pull her upright, supporting her with ginger touches.

">>I suppose that's better, a mine. Now. I have you up, but I think a bath will do you good first, getting you out of yesterday's clothing.<<" he told her, gently pathfinding out into the blinding morning light and toward the wagon in question with nods of assurance to any delegation members who were also early-risers, watching the small procession with questioning wariness. ">>Once you're soaking, I'll make sure breakfast comes your way.<<"

She sighed in defeated acceptance to the new itinerary, already too tired to quip a quarrel with the young man. But at least it wasn't fraught with the stormclouds of war, any longer.

@uramii

[uramii-archive]

This man was nothing if not perceptive. He wouldn't have gotten as far as he had if the twists and turns of the mind were foreign to him. Markesh's waning adrenaline brought about sense. Reality had settled upon him and it was a sight to see him push through regardless. Underneath the smirk was a slight bit of respect for his resolve to retrieve his Empress. It was admirable but Ganondorf certainly felt the pull of mischief within. He thought it would be amusing to deign to attack but held back. Behaving as a king should for the first time since stealing the title. It was odd really. Ganondorf was imposing so much upon himself his very nature was being challenged.

The exiting comment erased his smile however. Was that spite??

A thief believes everyone steals. Ganondorf planned on spiting Markesh in the moment but let that go....only to be met with this. In his defense however the smooth-talker has shown this was his forte thus far. What else was he to assume?? Regardless, that would be ammo for later. Ganondorf would get minor revenge for it and then the cycle would continue. Life itself is a cycle but he hadn't really had time to ponder their(his and the Empresses) conversation. He was involved in a "resurrection" cycle?? That was a lot to mull over.

Now at full height Ganondorf beheld the destruction they wrought. Mostly him in an attempt to throw her off. If she is to be accompanying him tomorrow then let's hope her research was sufficient or to her liking before this incident.

Well, the table came first. He wasn't going to pick up the various splinters that littered the floor... but this thing needed to be replaced. Or better yet: mended. Ganondorf was only partially spent from that skirmish and saw fit to employ dark magic in this moment. He'd approach the end of the table where it slacked the most. Palms were shown to the air and then umbral energy formed. Said energy enacted it's influence on the material of the injured table and began to replace it's components with more sinister looking parts.

The table now stood at it's full height against, the breakage was gone and instead of what would be considered "normal" or regal it simply looked hostile. Interior design was not Ganondorf's passion but it looked nice to him. The entire thing had been mutated to a fierce purple and black thing with curled affects.

Those in the kitchen thankfully were freed of their subjugation by merit of time and one male Hylian, the head chef specifically, peaked his head out to witness the mess before him. The sound alerted Ganondorf and his eyes found the source with ease.

"Erm, i-is everything all right your highness??" The nervousness was registered but not at all considered. Ganondorf spoke back. "Everything is fine. Get someone to clean up this mess. And make sure to get breakfast ready early tomorrow. I'll be off to meet with the Gorons." The chef in question nodded and quickly retreated back into the kitchen. He was happy to have avoided triggering his king again. Ganondorf approached the the parchment, tomes, and other official documents. He'd start by picking them up then it occurred to him to simply swirl it all together in a somewhat messy pile with that same magic he'd reformed the table with.

It fell into his hands then he swiftly sat it all onto the table. Not a single thing was given a second look while he dusted off his hands.

"Another job well done."

And with that he too took his leave from the (less) destroyed dining hall. Sleep would be peaceful for him at least... he'd have to face the Empress again tomorrow. This time however as an "ally". Let's see if things grow more complicated from here.

"If they weren't planning an uprising then, they'll surely seek one now. Right? Hmph..." A jest at the atmosphere. He'd already realized if they wanted to enact hostility it would've been done. The Empress was no pushover. "We will see what tomorrow holds. I can see that... man becoming more talkative after this however. Should Hyrule and the Sidhe continue associating with one another."

"I'll have to prepare for the verbal jousting."

Markesh would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't actually afraid.

The weight of the aftermath was finally settling into his calculations, and he did finally click that the brunt of the destruction was very likely caused by the towering King himself. In all of the altercations he had been part of or witness to, his Empress did not have the lack of control or the raw power to simply destroy so much in so short of a time. As though on cue for his thoughts, there was a grumbling creak and an unseen fracture in the surviving tabletop gave way to gravity with a crackling boom and a flutter of remaining paper.

Letting all of it sink in, he could only picture what could be done to him in his defiance. It shuddered down his spine in a way he was wholly unfamiliar with and pooled in the adrenaline sink of his core to fuel his fight-or-flight. Although he would never react to flight, no matter how much the circumstances might have scared him, it was still there, an instinct. He would still perform his duty with his heart hammering in his throat, and he swallowed subconsciously to try and quell it.

Which was why it confused him greatly when there was no fight actually needed. Contrary to the ire he so remembered from before, his analyses were left reeling when Fariah was offered up to him without so much as a venomous word. He paused for a half a moment, made a peripheral check of his surroundings to make sure no trap was being sprung on him for his demands and once he'd deemed the moment safe, he darted forward with the speed of the playful wind to snatch his glittering charge from the hands of the other. A sweep of her prone form across his arms as though she weighed nothing and back out of arm's reach in almost the same instant before he thought to check her condition.

As promised, she was still breathing. Markesh breathed an inward sigh of relief at least for that. The cut to her cheek was too jagged for a blade; even if he wanted to blame Ganondorf for that directly, it wouldn't fly. Overall, unharmed but exhausted to such a point she could not maintain being both lucid and recharging. Oh, she'd be feeling that in the morning, he knew.

It was a juggling act to balance her across his body long enough to grip and pull her sword singing out of the flooring, a fine display of clumsy dexterity to make certain all the important bits and pieces were in his possession. He had half-expected to be attacked during such a circus-worthy act, but when it never came, he let his hackles settle. Only a little bit, there was still an angry frizz to him in his slow steps toward the nearby door.

He almost wanted to laugh at being told no harm was meant. He almost did. Instead, he settled on slowing his progress to look around meaningfully at the remains of the dining room before those dark eyes speared over his shoulder toward the King.

"Clearly."

The derisive tension in that one word alone was so heavy and thick, it could have been cut with a knife. He might have added more, he might have stopped to quip in his Empress' name, but she twitched a little in his grip and made the smallest of noises. Enough that Markesh seemed to forget entirely that he was winding up for a stubborn scolding and with his head snapping to face hers with reverent awe softening his features, his ears twitching forward to focus on her, he swept out of the door into the hall without so much as an extra word.

Noting a lack of action against him, he was more attentive to his surroundings. The delegation party would be the better place for them, he knew, and he aimed for the courtyards where the caravan was camped. He may have to rouse them first, but with their own was safest.

Once she was awake again, he would need clarification on things. His eyes briefly regarded the Goddess Skin, the silken ceremonial veil draped over his Empress as though it was a blanket and not a sacred garment. It had been the only way to transport it and the other effects and arsenal without dropping anything or anyone.

The delegation was snapping back when he came to them, half-awake hazes not enough to stop their concern for the condition of their Empress. Markesh could only wish he had a better explanation than that he didn't know what happened. Issuing the commands to make sure she was comfortable while she slept. He could not say if it was war yet. Even if it was, it didn't feel like war should.

Relinquishing his charge into the arms of their people, all he could do was wait impatiently for when she woke.

[uramii-archive]

Silence. A moment was taken to not only contemplate the shallow aspect of this situation( her beauty) and then the implications of their very real conflict. Ganondorf's features quirked against his will into a grin at the thought. If he were far lesser or even more vulnerable she may have killed him... he could see leagues of men(and women) dying to her blade. It was... amusing to think about. The anger she exhibited when he revealed he was satisfied was also a tad funny to think about. But, he'd have to make up for it somehow. Later of course.

It was odd, kneeling here holding her so close. Ganondorf hadn't felt a soft embrace in decades. A part of him wishes he could trust someone to catch him when he would fall.

What would he justify this act of generosity with? "It'd be a waste to let someone so mighty fall. Maybe something like " If you crack your head here we won't get to fight again in the future". A lot of things were taking over Ganondorf in the moment but one of his theories proved true: relax and you'll be caught off guard. The bumbling servant of hers was presenting himself in a threatening manner. The tone, the sudden appearance... his menacing expression. It was definitely out of place for what Ganondorf had pegged him as in their limited interactions but the point was made clear.

"Hmmm?"

". . ." There was hesitation. Contemplation. Yet, Ganondorf decided in this moment to set aside his pride and concede. No amount of exposition would help the mood. He offered up the Empress towards the frantic man without a second thought. "She still lives." Was what he began with. "Twas an odd turn of events... but we seem to have reached an understanding." He kept things short. "I will make no move against you nor her. I mean the two of you no harm." The diplomacy was on full display... if only he had done so earlier.

The room was a disaster.

Markesh had been vaguely aware of the damage to the table during his brief round with lucidity earlier. Even in the haze of waking up then, he knew the tilt had been off and had been running to use it as a barrier when the second wave hit. He hadn't expected to be out for as long as he had the second time. Now, he felt he could assess the damage a little more thoroughly.

Decor was embedded in the walls, entire candlesticks remaining mostly intact to speak of force of impact. Pieces of books were scattered among the disheveled survivors of the research project, loose paper with a scroll he recognized written across it peeking timidly from random places and angles. He'd have to come back for those. The Aeroglaive still vibrating, now audibly to him with a tick of one ear, against a pile of books near the slope to the floor. Why hasn't she summoned it back to her hand...

His incapacitated Empress on the arm of the King who, in his mind, put her in such a position to begin with.

Too many 'what if's clouded the Regent's mind at the sight, none of them even settling before he was on the move. If he dwelt too much on them before acting, it might put his Imperial in even more trouble. The Aeroglaive didn't vibrate so vehemently for just anyone, there was still danger here.

The facade of the impeccably-timed klutz was gone in the instant he crested the table, slid with an unexpected grace down the slope to the floor, landing with a flare of the Goddess Skin behind him still clutched in one hand, the gilded hands ablaze between the ring of eyes. The Aeroglaive was snatched up, partially because it was his duty to protect it as much as it was his duty to protect his Imperial, and partially because it was a weapon in case he needed it. Not that he could control the thing in the way it was meant. Only Fariah could do such a thing, only those of the Ariad bloodline could hope to make it more formidable than its current diminutive form suggested. But in this form, a short baton-javelin... It was still pointy.

The clouded haze was all but gone in him now, ears pulled back and hair frizzed. Clarity focused across those dark eyes of his, tempered now with wrath. A most ill-fitting expression on his otherwise charming features, teeth bared in a show of threat as he descended.

"Get your filthy hands off my Empress!!"

The tone of his voice had changed. Hard, demanding. He came with the bearing of a soldier. He came with a familiar thunder clinging to every syllable and action. Clearly, the sharp sparkling lines of the uniform were not just for show. It fit his function just as well, every angry step taken practiced and methodical. For a moment, Markesh was a monument, a testament to years of training.

A creak of leather as his grip around the Aeroglaive tightened, the arm that held it readying to use the symbolic weapon in a way it was wholly unintended to be used. It at least seemed just as eager to see bloodshed, rattling in his grasp. If his demands were not met, he fully intended to give it what it (and himself as well) wanted.

[uramii-archive]

"Ah, looking into a mirror never ceases to amaze me. Am I to assume you to be hostile, or may we have a conversation?" The other male Gerudo is sure he can sense the full Triforce on him, but he's not worried. Interestingly, he seems to be ruling but only carries one piece. He must have killed the hero and princess, but what happened to their pieces?

"?!" In turn like his counterpart Ganondorf could detect the Triforce. Before he felt it or could even acknowledge the presence of this man his own piece began to radiate. There were times he'd be stymied by surprise. His stature may falter or his face would twist but instead Ganondorf's features hardened and his posture straightened. The way this other "him" carried themselves lent itself to royalty. The air practically rippled surrounding this other, even more so then it did with him! If this were truly him then the Triforce of Power existing within two beings at once was impossible. Improbable even.

"Just when I expected this new life to slow down." He began. "We may speak. It's never crossed my mind what I would do should I encounter myself." The other's question was addressed earnestly. Ganondorf twisted around to place down the report he'd been going over. The sanctity of his private chambers being violated wasn't usually met with a calm tone. "If I had any suspicions on you being an illusion then the Triforce dispelled them. For the Triforce Of Power to be within us both is puzzling." As if there were a stronger version of his piece. A ridiculous implication. No....this one must have all three pieces. That would mean he's all powerful.

The Triforce was absolute after all. There couldn't be a "stronger" version of the Triforce Of Power. That was an oxymoron. He must be from another timeline then.

[uramii-archive]

Flip the table, Gan

since it's absolutely relevant

@sanguinesorcery

Send ┻━┻ ︵ヽ(`Д´)ﾉ︵ ┻━┻ To See My Muse Throwing A Temper Tantrum!

"AND NOT ONLY IS THERE A REBELLION BUT THEIR LEADER SHARES MY SKIN!" It took patience, something Ganondorf was not known for, to suss out the rebellion's head. After a few months of cat & mouse Ganondorf finds out that they're hiding right under his nose: Castle Town. Quite literally less than a mile from Hyrule Castle. That wasn't insulting enough however. The so-called leader, Telma, was a Gerudo too! Salt in the wound. He was searching for others like him and look there! They were on the opposite side of history to him. A genocide had befallen his people in his absence and yet, just as he expected, some survived even lived on through children. The rebels had yet to be captured or put to death given this venting session he was in the midst of.

Anything in his path was kicked, picked up and broken, or outright burned. The room was already a mess as there was nothing beyond his reproach. This "room" being an exclusive dining area. Chairs, the cedarwood table being crippled then when he wasn't pleased with that, completely split by a two-handed strike to the middle, glass shattered or crushed, the very floors were trembling at each visceral stomp he gave sounding as if he was in danger of caving them in.

The eye of the storm was here. A moment where he stopped as dark purple flames radiated from his shoulders. "Their execution won't be enough for me. I need to see them suffer! The other triforce bearers necessitated a swift end but these rebels won't receive such mercy!" He cursed the group again despite them not being present. The Castle staff had seen outbursts from Ganondorf before but nothing so aimless and destructive. Was he okay going ballistic in front of Fariah out of respect, comfort, or simply because he couldn't hold it in any longer? Mayhaps a combination of the three.

[uramii-archive]

Whatever possessed him to move forward, to even consider that Fariah may hurt herself upon impact, and further to use his precious energy to prevent such a thing was up to anyone's guess. Perhaps the tension in the air wasn't as cut & dry as portrayed. By him anyway. The fading consciousness of the Empress was enough motivation for Ganondorf's stomping to speed up. No matter how he downplayed it within or would do so if asked about it later this was a priority in the moment. Why even drive her to this point in the first place just to turn around and be half-heartedly tender? Only his patron Din would know the answer. Ganondorf's mind operated in brash, brutish ways often times. Here he is to save the day...

Luckily she had fallen away from her blade. Should she be noticeably marked rather than simply exhausted that would mean war. As fleeting as the consideration was that truly wasn't his main concern. Not a good look for the new king but he had time to grow into his position... hopefully anyway. The diplomatic approach to things was supposed to ensure longevity in the position. Maneuvers like this one weren't conducive to a long-lived ruler but of course Ganondorf wasn't your typical monarch. He wasn't a typical anything.

His size betrayed his speed at times. Burst speed was a blessing and a curse because one had to maintain but not for one with as much stamina as the boorish Gerudo. Was it luck or simply quick-thinking that enabled him to reach her before the ground met the Empresses frame? Perhaps the latter.

A fluid movement came about: he had shrunk his posture to aim past the failing Fariah's body and cut her path off with an arm. She was caught safe and sound. Ganondorf, even in his "old" age having the Triforce for so long considered this kneeling position to be a vulnerable one. An entire arm holding another person, he wasn't in any way poised for a counter, and on top of that his eyes lay squarely upon her to examine since the space between them was nonexistent. Their scuffle had alleviated the paranoia, right?? Why were such thoughts still cascading throughout the mind palace? Could Ganondorf honestly say he didn't trust anyone within or nearby the castle? At the very least, did he reasonably believe that there was someone nearby that meant him any harm?

Well, as she outlined, this was a hostile act against their empire... She wasn't awake to explain their fight was done with. Anyone could appear and misinterpret the scene. That may rouse another attack. Oddly enough, Ganondorf ruled that there was enough fighting for one day. An especially bizarre position for the bloodthirsty Demon King.

"...Where would I even take her?" Those with her would demand to see their incapacitated Empress right?? That voice attack she unleashed surely would have worked on everyone else in the vicinity. Perhaps beyond. Thusly, if they were still dealing with the effects of such magic then there was no one to assist or relieve him of the woman. Or so he thought.

The words would not come.

Try though she might to formulate any sort of response, every time she thought of the syllables needed, the sounds of them even, Fariah's mind fuzzed over. A static blanket over her thoughts. All she could muster was a click of the cords in her throat as though trying to put a placeholder.

Her stomach was turning and she felt the nausea course into her legs, sapping what little strength remained in them. One hand still held the grip of the yatagan in a stubborn attempt to remain a towering monolith of presence or power or body, but she simply could not hold it any longer. A shuffle of silk and chime of metalwork were accompaniment as she fell to one knee beside it.

Ganondorf's praise was lost in the mental fray. She heard it. But through the heavy haze around her head, she did not understand it. Her teeth grit in effort to try to salvage her position and failed. The world darkened at the edges, slowly at first before the calm comfort of sleep finally drove its persistent needling presence into her everything. Her eyes glazed before she surrendered and slowly fell to the side opposite the slender sword.

There was a ping. It wasn't heard in the world outside her head, but it was felt by Markesh.

The prone Regent felt rather than heard the connection of energy speared into his emotions sever and his adorned ears flicked in recognition to his surroundings again with a twinkling chime. He blinked a few times before raising his head to reassess where he was.

Already he knew he was the first one out of enthrallment. Being one of the inner court, he had been conditioned and trained to bolster a little more against anything that triggered the hivemind than others. All the inner court had, small as that number was. It allowed them to better steady themselves after such intense blows to the psyche and continue to perform.

It was still such a surprise every time to come to and see that time had passed from when he had last remembered, although he barely remembered those few minutes he had been active the last time. The table was upended next to him, keeping him from seeing the rest of the room beyond that. He could register the silence though. It sounded like the fighting was finally over...

He looked around a moment more, noticing the two maids who still remained knelt to the floor. It would be some time still before they were out of enthrallment. He'd have to be around to help them if this was their first time. People generally panicked if they had never been subject to the vocal manipulations before. He tried to predict how many more in the castle would have been victim; the Sidhe for certain, if not by their own genetic need to serve, then by his ripples into the hivemind. But Sidhe were fairly used to this and would blink and steady themselves and go about their day as though nothing happened. Hyrulians were not prepared for such things. If his predictions were correct, he would need a small army of remediators...

A glitter of light nearby caught his attention as he continued his observations and he rolled forward onto his knees to reach for it. The glittering hem of the Goddess Skin, a few of the embroidered eyes on the edge of the table above his head staring down on him. He grasped it, pulled it down and caught the crown as it came with the silken veil and drape before it hit the floor.

The Empress hadn't instructed him to pull it over her face like usual. Instead, she had removed it entirely. Was this not an act against the crown? Or maybe she thought it would be in the way. The new King certainly seemed to be a better adversary than most politicians the two had faced together in the past, maybe she couldn't wear it because she needed to use all her senses, or maybe it was a liability, or both.

The brief memory of her stuttering command in that small window when he had broken the first enthrallment was suddenly very vivid. Maybe it was an act of war... Maybe it was too quiet...

It was panic now that spurred him to shoot straight up from his spot. He would admonish himself later for the brief dizziness of the action so soon on waking.

"Fariah!!"

Damn propriety, this was important!

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"Have it your way." That matter was settled. They could move on then. The joke didn't go over his head. He'd understood it completely but it didn't make him laugh, chuckle, or even giggle. Instead..."Yes... Lotus, you're welcome." It wasn't purely uncertainty causing him pause of course. One more look was given to her as he'd make his way towards the exit. "I'll be back in a few hours." A reminder so that it remained in the head. He couldn't have her little heart giving out from a surprise visit.

Lotus thinks for a bit and honestly she was curious about how he managed to do it "Well, I think it's fine though, I probably wouldn't feel comfortable with a random person looking at my body as I would punch someone in the face" she said to him as she chuckles a bit

She would listen to his advice and figured the best she could do were rest until she gain her strength back.

"I sure am curious to learn about my mom's old life though so I look forward to it, thank you"

@uramii

[uramii-archive]

There was an inkling of compassion in his eyes. Just enough to register but not too much to spill over into any other part of his face. His posture had been cleansed of any readiness to battle and his hands were no longer fists. The defiance was finished and seemingly effective in snapping her back to reality. His ploy worked out just fine and that was all he needed. Truly. A tentative step forward. Hesitation...

". . ." Ganondorf grumbled. Instead of the softer feeling stirring within him came forth the conflict. He didn't entirely trust Fariah even still. He'd gotten a look at the more violent side of her and thusly he had been satisfied to see that if she truly wished to attack while they were deliberating it would've happened. And with how she employed that Regent of hers the act surely will have been one of coordination and careful planning. Then again, was he so worried about death that he needed to obsess over the thought?? The moment passed as did the stillness. Ganondorf's pace picked up again. Why approach? She surely was going to fall.. and although she did amazing in warding off the fading of her posture there was only so much the body could endure. Even his own...

"It was a joy. A skirmish for the ages." His words came forth to reassure her as he'd gotten closer. Of course he was of the same mind. There wasn't any bit he'd regretted. Things seemed to have worked out in the end. This certainly wasn't his most decorated plot though it played to his expectations. Sort've. She had a certain dedication to every action he couldn't ignore. It was admirable and those little bits added up. She was prepared to end him with each strike plus the speed and form was unlike anything he'd faced. Even from Hylia's Champion...

The murder of Link wasn't satisfying. It was done out of vengeful spite. This fight felt exhilarating. He didn't know what to expect from her and she made him pay for it.

Even though she was still upright, there was a noticeable glaze beginning behind those gilded eyes, the hellfire starting to diminish. It was not enough she was blind to his own signs of at least feeling the command trying to drive its claws into his skull. At least Fariah knew he was susceptible even a small amount.

She subtly shifted one foot beneath the copious skirt layers to stabilize herself, the yatagan's blade pointed down and speared into the floor to further aide the endeavour. Despite looking and feeling like she had a foot in the grave already, the stubborn drive to conquer and dominate remained a low throb in her chest. However, outside of existing seemingly out of pure spite, she was far passed the thresholds of 'spent'.

She wasn't going anywhere, with anything more.

There was no coming back from that second pull. If there had been more of a window between uses, she may have recovered a little more easily. But without solid rest to help reset the reserves, this was where she stopped. It was something she simply refused to admit to herself.

She was set to offer a rebuttal to Ganondorf's own show of arrogance, as she knew she still had venom left to give. But she stopped in the early stages of attempting to bare teeth, hearing just one small thing that drilled into her own head.

My people...

She did have an appointment to keep, and though she would never openly admit he was right, that was more of what her focus should be on. Her recent memory fell back into a loop on itself, telling her that she needed to do research, reminding her that she was doing research. She would need Markesh to gather the scattered notes, if there were any left.

The repetition of being reminded of the system she had originally set up settled the flutter in her chest. Everything relaxed and she swore she could feel the bags under her eyes deepen as she did. But there was a familiar spark reignited in those golden eyes. Clarity.

"...Ah."

Just the smallest of noises, a recognition of her surroundings again before she tsked and gripped the ombre yellow silk that made the top layer of her skirt in a hand that had only recently begun to shake. It had not weathered the destruction of the table very well, the fabric split and torn.

"That is too bad, I rather liked this one..."

Such a shift in demeanour and attitude, a mild inconvenience as opposed to that war goddess of before. That brief moment of lucidity was slowly being replaced again, though this time with a sort of half-delirious haze. A trained eye could see the weight she put on her other hand, against the pommel of her sword still stuck in the floor like a cane.

She wasn't going to last much longer, but she would be damned even in that miasma floating about her thoughts if she was going to let Ganondorf see that imminent collapse.

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The chaos had only just begun. The twisted of the Empress' features said as much and her seeming rebuttal of him conceding was at least interesting. Ganondorf fixed his mouth to speak more but then her very form began to compensate for the short skirmish they just had. Of course, he had an idea of what may have drained her: that trick she enacted mere moments ago: the combining of blood to her blade. Though to call it a combination may be off. If it drained her this much then truly was it together as one?? She must have needed to expend a continuous amount of energy to keep it joined. For the more wrathful spells he knew he ,too, would be impaired for a short time.

Yet, this wasn't a short time it seemed. Nor was the vicious Empress finished it seemed. Not with the battle nor him. Ganondorf's grin grew to a maniacal smile while he heard her proclamations though scattered as they may be. She still had that same fire within and truly it was a sight to see. His intentions laid bare she wasn't taking it well... or at all.

". . .?" It was slight but he could see her winding up for something. Ganondorf's hands became fists while he prepared for whatever trick she would deploy next. Though, nothing could stop the left turn this encounter would take. Her mighty voice came forth and assaulted his mind once more. The hair hanging behind him reacted before the rest of him. His body recoiled from the momentary urge to do as commanded but he stood strong, if stiffening from resisting her magical vocals. He saw those that were to be under his employ bowing. This was the true breadth of that feeble push into his head earlier, wasn't it??

"What is this...?!" The same as before yet completely beyond. She was using all of her might to try and enthrall him this time. This was no mere suggestion, she wanted to hijack his mind for submission. Ganondorf at one point sought to make all kneel before him but those days were behind him. The throne was his, the other Triforce bearers were slain and now, before him in this moment, was an Empress who showcased a certain edge. One he oddly identified with. Though, that was where the admiration ended in the moment. As much as she was after his own heart Ganondorf knelt to no man or woman.

It was his will against the magics she imbued her voice with and not only did his body hold strong but his mind too. Dark energy began to radiate from his form from the stress induced in fighting such an influence. His eyes closed and his stiffening body began to relax. Just as the air around her rippled with defiance, the surrounding space of Ganondorf was filled with malice. Disgust at the very thought of his body faltering to signal surrender.

This was not to be submission but concession. A mutual one. If she refused further then perhaps they may need to continue.

"Not on your life." His posture finally fixed back to it's true glory and head held high, Ganondorf spoke back to her. "I said that this battle is done. I will fight no longer. You were doing so well Empress keeping your eye on the ball as far as your throne was concerned. We have to speak with the Gorons in the morning." Simple words and an even simpler assertion. It was mockery against the trick she tried on him. "Even if all in the castle have felt your influence, my mind is impenetrable. Such is the curse of Din." His smile returned as he practically slapped her with his defiance.

...What...

Fariah had been stationary long enough to start feeling two things. A slow return to her energy, and the shakes indicative of an equally slow wane off her own adrenaline-fueled madness. The latter came with a low tinnitus in her ears, she thought she had misheard the towering King.

Her ears turned, shifted forward to listen. Even if it took her a moment to process the words being spoken to her, she still was able to parse out the meaning. A flood of indescribable emotions flowed through her head, mirrored in the incredulity on her face. But she was friend to one of those emotions she was able to grasp at:

Rage.

Although the feral fury she had displayed mere moments before had already disappeared with the return of her basic rationale, she found it hard to believe this was a game, a test. She could not, in what was left of her now fatigued consciousness, simply let that slide.

The sword was not raised, she saw no reason to use it now. But her head jerked to one side to lay that ever-wrathful stare on him as though questioning his reasoning. It took a moment more for her to begin to formulate words, the tone of her voice rough compared to the smooth richness of before, and the delivery was slow.

"...You do not get. To suddenly concede."

Even worn to its barest threads in both sound and mind, through the sudden weight of exhaustion, there was still a touch of venom.

"You do not get. To wind me up. And simply walk away."

It took some effort and she was sure that despite her best attempts to hide it, straightening her back and lofting her head was visibly taxing to everyone with half an eye. She kept that leveling glare on him before beginning to redirect what little energy she had managed to pool toward her throat and into her tongue. It was a strange sensation, like a small cloud of electricity had migrated from her chest where it usually sat.

Her ears fell flush to her head, her teeth bared with a barely audible snarl behind them. The air around her was growing heavy. She was vaguely aware of the sound of Markesh pausing before making a break for the door, his movements sounding like they were coming through a wet blanket.

"If you want to surrender so soon."

Fariah drew back on her mother's teachings once more. Forced her will into the energy tingling around the whole of her mouth and throat now. Feelings of awe and reverence, tangled into the tendrils wending between her canines, anchoring into the sides of her angry maw.

"I command you..."

A deep breath, pushing from behind in the hopes of projecting both sound and energy out.

K̙ N͖̭͑ E͂ͣ A͈ͮ̕ L̸̎

bͣe͖ͮ͜f̃o͔̲͠re̻ ỹ̢̪óur

E̛̥͓ M̎ P̴͖̈ R E S͉͛ Sͣ

The walls sang.

A deafening sound, although brief, it felt like every surface in the room that could be touched with such an expulsion of power resounded in feedback, strong enough it fluttered the hems on her skirts. The results were almost instantaneous.

With a thump, Markesh hit the floor. His eyes had glazed almost immediately on hearing her use the vocal magicks again and he hit his knees to the floor in prostrate to her, an expression of devotion softening his features. The sound of celebration that had permeated the courtyard beyond the dining room windows came to a cacophonous halt. It wasn't hard to guess the delegation party had fallen prey to the Push as well, though whether from the direct magick or through Markesh's hivemind influence was hard to tell.

A clatter of dishes in the hall leading to the kitchen. Two of the maids, having slowly emerged to check on the happenings when all went quiet, had been hit, the tingle of charged force imparting the same emotions and results that had stricken her own people.

It wasn't a perfect strike, even though she had been specifically aiming at Ganondorf. She could only hope something of it hit him.

"...And beg my forgiveness. For wasting my time."

And for trying to drag her into a completely unnecessary political conflict.

She maintained her posture even then, though she was sure it was pure stubbornness that kept her upright. The sheer toll to scrape the fumes out of the bottom of her metaphoric barrel was only being held back by that blessed fight-or-flight instinct.

Although that was waning fast.

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It sounded so sweet. She was offering power for him and those in his employ. He could conjure monsters then she could empower them. An amazing prospect. That was the thing though: mighty convenient. If she truly wasn't of this world then that means this wasn't out of the kindness of her heart. ". . ." The mountain of a man grew silent as the thoughts settled within. Her voice was like honey, she looked just as great all the while boasting that she could help. All things given require that you too must give however. "It would be a lie to say you don't. What is it you're doing this for...money?"

"Do you,too, grow stronger when you have someone enthralled to you? Or perhaps you seek a deeper prize... the soul?" Wild guesses at most but he threw them out confidently.

❝ OH OF COURSE I CAN DO SO MUCH MORE . . . ❞ those last three words were spoken slowly . so very slowly . ❝ with my voice and through my songs i may also empower those . for you . . . i could make you stronger with my voice . ❞ hand lifts to wiggle fingers towards him before wrists twist so she could glimpse at sharpened nails , ❝ along with shapeshifting , blood magic , a bit of divination . ❞ another tilt of her head as she looks to him expectantly . ❝ surely i . . . tempt you . . . ❞

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"Hah!" To blast away even the implication he was trapped. "I've come with a purpose. Even without a map I've never lost my way. Such is the nature of one as blessed as me." Boastful to the end. Her words weren't lost on him however. Ganondorf was usually quick to anger when he perceived someone was speaking in riddles yet, she(assumedly) lived in one. Thusly, it was in her best interest to act in such a way. This only made the struggle interesting in this regard. He'd have to figure this collection of trees out but to do that... he'd have to figure her out first. An uneven grin cursed his face while his head craned backward.

"You've confirmed I'm closer to what I seek. Perhaps the very essence of the golden goddesses used to be housed here." Playful musing in the same vain as what she put to him. A weaker, less capable man would falter to the smile of this unfamiliar creature. It only fed Ganondorf. "I'm endowed by one of the three. The strongest: Din." A low chuckle bridged the end of his proclamation. His pride was of course foremost. Ganondorf was trying to understand but not asking. His eyes only got him so far. This cat & mouse game with words would, again, usually bore or anger him. This time he was intrigued. So close to his goal only to be met with this enigmatic creature.

Part of her wanted to jest, to tilt her head and ask him what wall he spoke of. To a normal person's eye, the wall between the grove and the Lost Woods was invisible. To some a little more paranormal, they could glimpse a wall of ivy and thick bracken, mists of light curling invitingly.

She thinks better of testing the large, towering brute of a man. Especially since his aura is nothing but malice... Dark and oppressive, threatening to snuff out her light at the slightest breath.

And yet... She feels she knows him. Somewhere deep, deep down in her ancient heart and soul. An old enemy, one so old that it became an almost fond rivalry. Moon and sun chasing one another, never truly winning.

"Ordona?" The wolf girl found herself asking, head tilting not unlike a curious pup. Her eyebrows furrowed, sharp, feral eyes glinting, before she recognized the term.

"I'm afraid this isn't Ordona anymore. I'd wager if you kept going, this wouldn't be Hyrule anymore either. It's a place of spirits, of the damned and lost." A small smile, unnerving and pointy, gleaming at Ganondorf.

"Did you come to join your brethren then, demon? I can smell at least you are no human."

@uramii

[uramii-archive]

"I... disrobed you, yes. I saw." Not to say he did it for any other reason then to dispose of her damaged clothes. Again, her dignity was something to protect. "If it will make you feel better I can certainly have a doctor come in and give you a once over. Such matters are better suited for someone trained in that regard." Basic first aid is all he knew. Survival sake. Anything beyond that would require outside aide. The castle staff were many but also out of the way. Out of his way. When their new king came barreling through his impact was often unforgiving. Thusly they learned to not linger where he may be walking.

"Otherwise, I suggest you get more rest Lotus. When you've recovered I'll start by teaching you to battle. None will ever hurt you again. I'll show you how our people duel."

Lotus looked at him as he told her that he didn't have anyone looking after her, she figured that he probably didn't get it the needs of one as he was immortal though.

"Well, most of my injuries are superficial though still I remember reading that usually immortals had healing powers of their own but considering that I'm not immortal I would still take a while to recover, it's what I learn during the years as a slave" she replied to him as they talk and wondered who else lives there at the castle, was he by himself?

"Not to mention that I probably can't do much with an injury back since you probably saw my scars" she said turning a bit to face him so she wouldn't put much pressure on her back

@uramii

[uramii-archive]

"...!" The twisted man's features for the first time since the inception of their troubled relationship reflected his inner world. Mad, boastful, and hungry for battle. A less-than-built individual would've felt recoil from striking a blade directly like that with their fist but not Ganondorf. His posture reset when she stopped moving only to throw a command to her regent did it dawn on Ganondorf that things may be going too far. Part of him regretted striking such a chord that she felt this movement necessary. Yet most of him relished in the implication. He intentionally didn't set the terms for their clash and her fatal approach was what he wanted. To see her thinking of the people even in such a heated moment was admirable. As a new noble himself he should take note...

Should he? Should he pull the curtain and reveal the people manipulating the lights? Remove the veil as it were??

They both have given up speaking... but he should be clear. Ganondorf saw fit to bring things to an end. Hopefully for both of their sake she wouldn't be so far into her bloodlust that they would be beyond that point.

That bloodcurdling warcry sure seemed to indicate as much. The adrenaline wasn't making his heart flutter this time...

"....Hmph, calm yourself Empress." Ganondorf responded. The discarded scabbard of his blasphemous blade was summoned to his free hand. It was action first to establish an intention: just as he drew this sword to claim the battle, he was sheathing it to signal he wanted it to end. "I am many things and blind isn't one of them." A small speech followed. "Should we duel to the death it would be a shame. I never intended for it to get to that point anyway. To see the fire that lives within you first and by extension your people was delightful." A small way of acknowledging where his head was at. His sword was now safely sheathed and then with a snap of the fingers it faded from existence... out of reach by normal means but always nearby for the Demon King.

"I'd be lying if I said the will to fight were gone. But just as you think of yours during these heated moments, who would rule if I were to die? Or you?" An easy question for her to answer maybe... but Ganondorf had done too much and waited too long for the throne to throw it all away. "Hmph..." Fingers came to meet the wound she inflicted upon him. Blood met them. He examined it for a moment while the skin repaired itself at an accelerated rate. A blessing to him. A curse in her eyes. There was a weapon that could permanently mark him. Though, she didn't possess such a thing did she?

"You may proceed with your... studying and pilfering. This peak into that foreign head of yours was appreciated. My worries are gone."

Such a maneuver was reckless. Fariah knew as much long before she had planned to do it. Not only was it risky to try to take him out from the front, but should she miss at all, she was well within grabbing range.

But she didn't miss. Or rather, she missed by the slightest of hairs, enough for the warlord within her to see and relish in the sight of Ganondorf bleeding. There was no quip, no wit, in laying her sword on him. But she would have been lying if she'd said she didn't want more.

It was the heightened senses that came with the adrenaline spike that kept her from taking his counter full-on. Though she had been wanting to change hands and trajectory in another vie for severing his neck even from her angle in dangerous arrogance, the windup she witnessed caused her tactical gears to shift to defense.

The yatagan was pulled inward instead, laid along her arm over her center, one foot shifted back to brace her and make her profile smaller. Both hands rested on the grip to stabilize, energy enough fed into the drying streak of blood still along the sword's blade to strengthen it for impact.

Fariah expected the strike to be hard enough to push her back. Ganondorf's prior show of physical prowess told her as much. She did not expect the sword to ring so loudly in protest, or to slide back far enough her heels met where the tabletop had hit the floor earlier. As soon as one heel met the splintered wood, she put her weight forward to brake, silken gilded skirts still carried briefly by momentum flaring in a brief show of their own before settling with the faintest chime. A delicate opposition to the destruction of wooden fibers and fluttering papers and stained reddened skin.

But she felt it.

It was making it hard to stand straight again, though she tried. Severing her connection even briefly to the anchor points, she felt the trickle of energy return compared to the pooling of her defense of before and knew she would have to come to terms with a finality of some sort. Either to combat, or to herself.

Your people will miss you, last of your line...

A brief moment of clarity, her memory flashed to the delegation still camped in the courtyard, and with a ping in the back of her head only she could hear, she was only capable of wrestling lucidity briefly. Her ears ticked back toward the hallway to the kitchen.

"M...Markesh."

Her voice sounded strange in her own ears as she kept trying to push the imagery of the caravan forward for focus. Hollow, uncertain.

There was no answer, but she knew he was there and finally broken of his enthrallment. He was listening.

"Get ... the d...delegation party out ... safely."

It really was a struggle. A curse, she'd say. Boon of a goddess, even her own.

Still no response, but there was a slight shuffle. He would do the job given to him. He was a damned good Regent...

With her one final concern handled, she left it. Her part was still being played. In defiance of either the man who was her adversary or to gravity itself, she laid her gilded gaze molten with that nefarious firelight into his. She locked her legs upright, ran her fingers through the unruly locks of hair pulled loose to push them out of her face, twisting as she gave herself over to her own bloodlust.

Her challenge was issued no longer with words. She was simply passed the point of them. It was issued with fangs bared in a roar that might have shaken a lesser man. She may have accepted an end, but she was going to make him fight for that satisfaction.