Zelink Short Stories - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

The peace between our tribes was a fragile one, always tipping on the edge of war with our violent tendencies. Each generation was taught how to fight and kill in preparation for one of the tribes to make a mistake, starting another series of bloody battles. The Hylians, the largest of the tribes, held our cracking peace together by holding tournaments. Some were to the death, a means of revenge without starting a war. Others were for entertainment, to prove the strength of your warriors. This year however, the prize wasn't blood or glory. It was winning the hand of the next Hylian chieftess. Each chief and chieftess has been training their first borns ever since the competition was announced two years ago, their eyes set on the power of having a hand in the Hylian tribe. Being part of the most ruthless and unforgiving tribe, failure means I not only lose my honor but I also lose my title as heir. I either win and marry the future leader of the Hylians or I die trying. Failure isn't an option.
I've fought in tournaments for four years now, ever since I reached the minimum age. Allowing a child under the age of fifteen to participate is forbidden, a rule created after unprepared children were slaughtered by fully developed adults. The tournaments are not for the weak. They're meant for the strongest and most resilient. My mother being a merciless chieftess and my father a former champion and blademaster, I was raised to be their soldier, to bring glory to my people by spilling the blood of our enemies. And now they want me to marry the girl they raised me to hate. My loyalties run deep and I'll do whatever it takes to get them what they want: the power.
I've been preparing for the tournament since it was announced. Our elders made my armor while I trained, participating in the deadly games for practice, memorizing the strengths and weaknesses of the other clans. My father oversaw my training, pointing out every flaw and made me repeat each move until it was mastered. I can't be less than perfect.
I dress in my armor made of fur, leather, and monster bones. It was designed to show my muscular physique with shorts that end mid-thigh and fur boots. Pieces of fabric with jagged, round edges drape from the belt in the front, hanging slightly past the shorts. Only my chest is covered with a leather spaulder, the two sides connected in the middle with a ring made of bone. The short sleeves are made out of white Lynel mane fur and I have guards on my forearms, the thick fabric tied down with string. My right arm has a bone over the guard for blocking. The last piece of my armor is a monster skull that has been turned into a helmet. The large horns curve down towards my face and the thick red mane flows over my back.
My mother enters the tent, clad in her own furs and bones. My younger sister follows her, carrying a bowl of red paint. Standing in front of me, my mother draws her dagger and slices through her palm, holding her fist over the bowl of paint to bless it with her blood. It's a tradition to mix blood with our war paint. My mother is weakening herself to give me her strength.
With two fingers, she begins painting a line across my arm. "You understand what you must do?"
"Yes mother."
"The odds are against you. They don't want us to win." She paints triangles on my sides pointing towards the middle. "They're going to do everything they can to keep us from our glory." We're direct enemies with the Hylians. We scare them because we thrive off bloodshed. They don't want us to have the power but preventing us from joining the tournament would've been a declaration of war.
"You must be prepared for a disadvantage," she continues, pressing her splayed hand on my stomach, leaving a handprint. "Whatever the disadvantage might be, I expect you to win, do you understand?"
"I won't fail you," I promise.
She places her thumb in the middle of my bottom lip, dragging the paint down my chin and neck until it fades. "I know you won't."
Riding at my mother's side with my father and sister behind us, we lead our tribe to the colosseum for the tournament, meeting the other clans. The Hylians are already inside waiting for us to arrive. Each tribe has its own section in the rounded arena for the members that come to watch their warriors. I wait with my mother under the arena as our tribe takes their seats. Me and the other competitors will be announced in front of the Hylian heiress. My impending marriage to her only makes me bitter. She doesn't fight in the tournaments, making her either weak or a coward. How can I be expected to have strong children with her if she's too afraid? I knew better than to voice my concerns to my mother, knowing she's only worried about the prize, not the children I'm expected to have to carry my line.
The sound of the drums is our signal to enter the arena. Each competitor has their own set of stairs and doorway to enter from, keeping us apart to prevent any premature fighting.
I climb the stairs following my mother. She has her own skull helmet, the fiery orange mane matching her own hair. She carries the spear that's passed down to each leader, the tip made of sharpened bone. It'll be mine someday.
I squint a little at the bright sunlight shining into the colosseum and I step onto the sand as I have so many times before, the only difference being what I'm fighting for. Looking to my right, I see the other leaders with their competitors. We're all around the same age, the youngest being the girl we're fighting for. I narrow my eyes at the sight of two warriors from the Zora. My mother is glaring as well, her fingers tightening around her spear.
"There's two," I growl under my breath so only she can hear.
"To even the numbers." There's eight tribes total and only seven are competing. "They want the Zora to win so they gave them a second competitor." The Hylians and Zora have an alliance formed based on their lack of brutality. It's pathetic really, aligning yourself with another weak clan.
"They're still weak, even with two of them."
"Don't make your assumptions before you see them fight. Treat them all as if they're as strong as you."
"Understood."
The chief of the Hylians rises from his seat as if he were the king. He wears a black fur cape, a stark contrast to his white hair and beard. He silences the drums and chants with a wave of his hand.
"Tribes of this land!" his voice rings out. "I welcome you all to this special tournament! As you all know, this competition has a different prize; marriage to my daughter!" I clench my jaw as she stands. "Zelda of the Hylians!"
Standing next to him, I see just how small she is. Her blonde hair is in a single long braid down her back, her expression unreadable as she takes in her suitors. She has a headband across her forehead, the middle reaching down almost to her brows. She is painted like the rest of us with detailed white lines and curves over her shoulders and bare stomach. Her breasts are covered with a blue bandeau style top. Her white skirt is long with two slits in the front that'll expose her legs when she walks. I won't lie, she's beautiful but beauty doesn't dismiss her weakness.
Once she sits, her father continues with his speech. "The tournament will be to the death or to yield!" Yielding is a sign of weakness. My people don't yield. We don't fear death. "In the first round, each of you will fight a monster to show your true strength and then you will be paired together in duels! The winner of each fight will move on to the next until there are two left! The victor receives my daughter's hand in marriage!" No doubt the monsters chosen will be unfair and so will the brackets. "Announce your competitors!"
The chieftess at the other end of the line steps forward. Her armor is gold and she has tanned skin with red hair. "Ganon of the Gerudo!" she calls out for all to hear. I see my competition: a muscular man also in gold, only his shoulder covered in the armor and he wears long, loose fitting pants, attire usual in the desert.
The next chief steps forward. "Impa of the Sheikah!" Known for being sly and quick.
"Sooga of the Yiga!" This man is wearing a tight fitting suit that covers his whole body, the opposite of usual tournament armor that displays skin and muscle. Even his face is covered in a white mask with the upside down eye symbol of his tribe.
"Revali of the Rito!" A skilled archer but not as experienced in hand to hand. His blue hair is long, flowing down his back, decorated with a few braids and feathers.
"Mipha and Sidon of the Zora!" Brother and sister, experienced with spears and tridents. The girl is much shorter but is in no way lacking muscle.
"Yunobo of the Gorons!" I ignore his size. He's never been in a tournament before and he fails to hide his fear. There's no room for fear here. He won't last.
My mother steps forward next, her head held high. "Link of the Barbarians!" she yells clearly without wavering. Our tribe pounds on their chests with a fist, my father leading a war cry. It shows our unity and gives the promise of bloodshed.
"Show them no mercy," she says only to me, her son and best warrior. She didn't raise me to know what mercy is.
"You have your contestants!" Rhoam of the Hylians bellows again. "May the strongest prevail!"
We will be fighting in the order we were announced in and those waiting will be under the arena again, listening to the fights but not watching. They'll form the brackets based on what pairs will give them the best fights and watching us fight monsters shows our strength and skill. It also gets rid of competitors that have no place here.
I listen to the cheers during their fights, preparing myself for what I'll fight. I've heard the chitters of bokoblins and the scattered hops of lizalfos. Easy monsters. I prepare myself for something worse. They're going to do everything they can to keep me from winning and giving me a stronger monster is how they can do it while staying within the rules.
I'm called next and I once again climb the stairs, my people chanting as I step into the arena. I find my mother standing still and silent. I won't fail her.
My eyes find the stained sand as I make my way to the weapons rack, the bodies of monsters having already been removed, leaving only their blood. Looking at my choice of weapons, I pick a shield and a sword before taking my place in the middle of the arena facing the gate. I smile when I hear the roar.
The gate lifts when all other exits are sealed. Yield is only an option in human fights, not monster fights. I stand at the ready with my legs apart and my sword raised. I see the hooves first, then the muscular gold body of a lynel. A beast with the head of a lion and the body of a giant centaur. They're strong and intelligent, different from the other breeds of monsters. This is what they're trying to take me out with. Pathetic.
I shout, banging my sword and shield together to get its attention and rile it up. It roars again, drawing its own sword and shield from its back.
"Come get me, bastard," I say to myself. I'll give them the show they wanted.
The lynel charges at me, its sword raised as it roars. In the last possible second, I jump to the side and roll, narrowly avoiding its attack while feeling the wind the swipe created. The dodge gives me enough time to drive my sword deep into the muscle behind its front leg, only a wound to weaken it.
It roars and rears up on its hind legs, turning on me. I can finish this right now and show them they can't get rid of me this easily. I raise my shield and hold my breath to steady myself. The lynel rears up again, swiping both its sword and double bladed shield inwards towards me. Exhaling my breath, I parry the attack, the loud clanging of metal and sparks overloading my senses. With the beast stunned, I let out a wild war cry and drive my sword into its abdomen down to the hilt. I drag my blade down, spilling blood and intestines. Yanking my sword from it and feeling the spray of warm blood on my bare skin, it falls to its knees and I stab it between its red eyes to ensure its death. My tribe pounds on their chests again, chanting at my victory. The other clans look down in horror at the slain beast I took down in minutes single-handedly.
My eyes find my prize, the girl I'm fighting for. One leg is draped over the other, the slit revealing pale skin almost to her hip. Her gaze is glued to me as she lounges in her seat with an amused expression. Her father looks furious. His attempt at killing me off early failed and now he's faced with the possibility of his daughter marrying a Barbarian.
The beast is cleared and the other contestants reenter, their bodies free of blood unlike mine. They were given an easy challenge and now is when the real fighting begins.
"You have all proven your strength!" Rhoam yells. "You will now fight each other in duels! The fights are to the death or to yield! Failure to honor a yield will result in immediate execution!" If my tribe was in charge of the tournaments, yield wouldn't be an option. It's weak.
"The first fight will be Ganon of the Gerudo and Yunobo of the Gorons!" He continues. "Next, Mipha of the Zora and Impa of the Sheikah! Sidon of the Zora and Revali of the Rito and finally, Sooga of the Yiga and Link of the Barbarians!" I look at my red clad challenger. The fabric shows every muscle hiding underneath. I'll stain it a darker shade of red.
Yunobo and Ganon stay in the ring while the rest of us go to our area in the stands. These are the fights we get to watch. It's as entertaining for us as it is for the spectators. Not only that, it allows us to learn each other's combat styles in the chance we'll be pitted against each other.
Ganon chooses two scimitars, short curved blades favored by the Gerudo. His opponent wields a hammer made of stone. A bad choice given the quickness of the scimitars. He's going to die.
"Begin!"
Ganon charges forward, going for the throat. His opponent blocks the attack only to receive a slash across the belly. Ganon is vicious with his attacks, slicing into his opponent's flesh, weakening him with the loss of blood. He remains on the offensive, never giving Yunobo a chance. He twirls his sharp blade charging once more, burying the metal into his heart.
"Next challengers!"
Mipha and Impa enter after the body is taken away. They choose a trident and daggers respectively.
"Begin!"
The first to charge is Mipha, a short muscular girl with red hair. Impa blocks with her daggers and kicks her challenger in the stomach. Both women are strong, neither gaining the upper hand. They cut each other with their sharp weapons but nothing deep enough to cause real damage.
As the fight goes on, I glance back up at my future bride. She looks bored now, the opposite of her expression after she watched me fight. Maybe she craves more blood than this. If that's true, my marriage to her might not be as miserable as I anticipated.
"I yield!" I turn my attention back to the fighting women. Mipha is in the sand now, breathing heavily while Impa holds her dagger to her throat. She only narrowly escaped her death.
"Next!"
The next fight is a little more interesting with the Zora throwing spears and the Rito firing arrows. It ends with another disappointing yield, Sidon of the Zora collapsing under the pain of the arrows, ending the fight when Revali was ready to fire into his skull. There were two Zora and they both lost.
"Next!"
I stalk to the arena, glancing at Zelda. She's sitting straighter now. I'll give her the bloodshed she craves.
I choose a sword again, my hidden opponent standing across from me with a sickle. He adjusts it in his hand, his feet ready to run. I'll let him come to me.
"Begin!"
His feet fling up the sand as he charges. I swing my sword to block when he turns at the last second, slashing my side. I hiss at the sharp, stinging pain and I turn on him before he can get in another hit. I bring the hilt of my sword down against the side of his head, stunning him for only a second before he's attacking again. He's quick, his feet moving as if he was in a dance. He breathes heavily under his mask, grunting in pain each time I land a hit.
I use my bone guard to block another attack, not expecting him to kick my hand, making me lose my sword. He kicks me again in my stomach and I stumble backwards. It was a stupid mistake I've made before.
He takes several steps backwards, his fingers flexing around the handle of his weapon. My sword is too far away but I notice the head of a spear hidden in the sand. I kick the spear up with the tip of my boot as he charges. I catch the spear and reel back, twisting my body before I throw it full force. It lodges in his shoulder, making him fly backward and land on his back in the sand.
My focus on my prey, I kick away his sickle as he reaches for it and I step on his chest to hold him down. With a forceful yank, I dislodge the spear and raise it over him.
"Wait!" he screams. Wait isn't yield.
I slam the spear down with all my strength, sinking it deep into his abdomen and into the sand underneath. He chokes, his last moments drowned out by an uproar from the crowd.
"Kill him!" Rhoam bellows. I turn to see Hylian crossbows aimed at me. I killed fairly and now he's trying to take away my glory!
"You kill him and you declare war!" my mother screams, silencing the outcrys with her threat.
"He failed to honor a yield! The punishment is death!"
She slams the end of her staff against the stone of the colosseum, the sound echoing in the silent arena. "He did not yield! The rules were followed and he killed with all fairness! You kill my son and I'll have your daughter's head on a spike!" My mother's threat is not an empty one, rather a promise. She'll start a war right now and her people will follow her without hesitation. Even now, my father's hand is on the blade at his hip.
"We'll hold a vote then," he seethes. "Raise your hand if you believe that to be a yield!"
None of my clan raise their hands. The Rito don't raise their hands and about half of the Yigo do. The Gorons support me along with the Sheikah. All of the Hylians and Zora raise their hands. All except for Zelda, whether it's because she wants me to continue or because she's scared of my mother's threat
"And if you believe my son followed the rules!" my mother yells. Everyone who hadn't raised their hands previously raise them now, outnumbering the previous vote. Zelda stares at me with her hand raised.
"They have decided!" my mother shouts again. "Continue the tournament!" She nods to me, showing her approval of my kill. Interpreting his scream as a yield would have been merciful and that's not our way. He had to say it for me to spare him.
With an expression that would start a fight in my clan, Rhoam waves his archers off. "The next round will be hand to hand only! No weapons! The first fight will be Revali and Ganon, the second Impa and Link!" He glares at me, his second attempt at killing me failing just like the first. I'm one step closer to claiming his daughter as mine.
The body and weapons are cleared before the next fight starts. Both men are large but Ganon is bigger. They exchange punches and kicks, Ganon aiming for the wound Revali received in his last round. My own gash burns with blood dripping from it, running down over my paint. It'll heal to be another scar on my body, joining all my other trophies.
With my focus back on the fight, I see the Rito begin to falter. He's blocking more than attacking and he's slowing down. Ganon is going to be my opponent. He's the one I'll have to kill to win my bride.
Ganon spins, kicking the side of the Rito's head with enough force to bring him to the ground. They wrestle until Ganon hooks his leg around his opponent's throat, choking him. Revali struggles in desperate attempts to survive, his face going red from the lack of oxygen. He tightens his leg, squeezing the life from his victim until he lets go all together, leaving the Rito gasping on the ground. He yielded.
I step onto the sand again, my eyes on the woman in front of me. Tournaments don't discriminate against gender. Men and women will fight each other as they would their own sex. Women in my own tribe are known for being more vicious than the men, my mother being the perfect example. She'd disembowel or decapitate her challengers in tournaments, many of them men.
"Begin!"
We circle each other, our fists raised. Most of her body is displayed like mine, showing off every trained muscle in her arms, legs, and stomach. While she's smaller than many of the women in my tribe, I won't underestimate her strength.
I block her kick after she runs at me. She uses her fists next, aiming at my gash. She's hyper focused and doesn't have time to react when I kick her backward. She grunts, baring her teeth at me before attacking again. I growl myself when she lands several hits of her own.
Her movements become predictable as our fight goes on. I block most of her attacks while landing more on my own. I hit her directly in the jaw and she responds with a sloppy kick. That was her mistake. I catch her foot and watch her eyes go wide before I yank her forward, making her fall back into the sand. I'm on her after, pounding my fists while she crosses her arms in front of her face. I move to her ribs, making her cry out in pain. She kicks me in the chest and flips over, trying to crawl away. I pin her back down with my knee and position my hands on her head, ready to snap her neck.
"I yield!" she screams and I force myself to stop. "I yield!"
"Coward," I hiss before shoving her head back down in the sand. They have no honor.
The Hylian chief is glaring at me from his throne, his daughter smiling next to him. She does want me to win. She wants me to claim her as my prize. An unwanted pang of desire hits me. I was raised to hate her, I'm being forced to marry her so how can I possibly want her?
Ganon joins me in the arena. This is the final fight. His attacks are merciless like mine and I see in his eyes that he won't yield. Only one of us is walking away and it's going to be me.
"I've never fought a Barbarian before," he says in an amused tone. "Can you promise me a good fight?"
"I'll promise you your death," I seethe.
He taunts me with his wicked grin. "We'll just have to see."
A Hylian brings us each a dagger. The blade is sharper than any other weapon that was used today. The best weapons reserved for the best fighters.
I steal one more glance at my mother. Her head is held high as she looks down on me with her spear clamped tightly in her hand. This is the fight that matters. I won't fail her or my people.
"Begin!"
Neither of us stall. We launch forward, slashing at each other with our deadly weapons. I cut a gash along his exposed chest and kick him backwards, making him bare his fangs.
"You are good," he snarls. "But not good enough." We'll see about that.
He charges again and I catch him in a bear hug, mixing our sweat and paint and blood. I knee him in the stomach, meeting resistance. He's strong like me and I don't cause enough damage. He headbutts me, my helmet taking the blow. I headbutt him back, the skull breaking his nose. Blood streams down his face when he stumbles backwards. I readjust my grip on the dagger, showing him my fangs now.
He slashes at me, slicing my cheek. I relish in the pain. Pain is what makes you stronger. It means you're still alive.
When he comes at me again, I dodge and wrench the dagger from his hand, cutting my own in the process. He punches me in the throat, making me choke. Using the opening, he goes for my dagger, flinging it into the sand. I punch him as he picks me up, his arms forming a cage I can't get out of. He slams me to the ground, knocking the air out of me. I snarl as we fight using our fists. I need to gain the upper hand before he can choke me like he did to the Rito.
I use all my strength to flip us over and I yell as I clamp a hand around his throat, using my other to punch him. Blood flings into the sand, mine mixing with his as my knuckles split open.
He screams, letting out his own war cry and we roll. I feel the cool metal of a dagger in our struggle and we both grab for it. My hands are wet with blood and sweat and it slips from my grasp. I catch his arms just in time as he brings the dagger towards my chest.
"Yield," he seethes, the blade sinking closer to my chest. My arms burn under the weight of his and I bare my teeth again.
"I'll never yield," I bite out, my arms faltering. My chest heaves, the glinting metal less than an inch away.
"Then I'll kill you!" He presses harder and I squeeze my eyes shut, seeing my mother and our tribe. They're expecting me to win. They want to celebrate this feat. I want the glory.
When I feel the blade pierce my chest, I scream but not in pain. I allow my fury to take over, giving me the strength to throw him off and take the dagger. Time feels slow as I raise it above my head and drive it down into his chest, stabbing through flesh and cracking bone. I don't hear the commotion from the crowd as they watch my violence.
I drag the blade down, his eyes going glassy as he bleeds. With my chest still heaving, I plunge my hand into the hole, my fingers closing around the smooth muscle that's barely pumping. I yank as I stand, holding his still beating heart above my head and I yell, my tribe following me. My hand is soaked in his blood and it runs down my arm, the warmth of it taking my weariness away. But blood isn't my only prize.
My bride is staring down at me with wide eyes, looking unsure for the first time. Now she knows who she's marrying: a true Barbarian who relishes in blood and pain, who holds honor above all else.
My mother's mouth is curved into a smug smile, her skull helmet casting a shadow over her cold blue eyes, the eyes she gave me. I've brought her honor and the gift of a heart. I made her proud.
"We have our victor!" Rhoam announces without hiding the hate in his voice. All his attempts failed and now his daughter is mine. I won her. She'll be my wife by the end of the day.
While the rest of my tribe prepares to leave and the other clans take their losers and dead, I'm called into the chamber my mother is in with my bride's father. I hear the argument before I enter.
"You're pathetic!" she snarls. "And a coward!"
"You will not speak to me that way!" His face is red with anger but he backs away from her and her sharp spear. My bride is behind him, her eyes on the ground.
"You dare go back on what was decided? He won the tournament and her hand in marriage!" He's still trying to prevent it. I won her. The rules were whoever won the tournament also won her hand.
I step forward with the intention of carrying my bride out of here. My mother holds her spear out, stopping me when she presses it against my chest. She knew what I was going to do. She raised me to take what's rightfully mine and the girl who refuses to look at me is mine now.
"I am not!" he bellows. "I am merely setting a date for the wedding!" Pathetic. He'll drag it out as long as possible then cancel it.
My mother scoffs. "They'll be married tonight, at our home!"
"You can't take her from me!" He gave her away. He just didn't want us to be the ones he gave her to.
My mother stalks forward, the bone necklace she wears rattling with each step. "I have two hundred of my people outside who will fight to their last breath and more at home who would love to sink their teeth into your clan. Do you really think it wise to oppose me?"
He looks from her to me, his eyes wanting to keep arguing but he knows that would be a mistake. My mother would kill him before he had the chance to yell.
"Very well," he hisses, turning to his daughter. "You'll go with them and marry him tonight."
"Father?" she says, allowing me to hear her soft voice for the first time. She pleads silently with her bright green eyes.
"It's not up for discussion. You'll go with them unless you want to start another war."
"Come child," my mother says with her calloused and scarred hand extended out to my bride.
She glances at me as she steps forward and I catch a glimpse of fear. She doesn't have anything to be afraid of now that her father agreed to give her away. We'll take care of her.
She takes my mother's hand and we turn for the door.
"Promise me you won't hurt her!" he calls after us.
"Unlike your tribe, women are valued and seen as equals to men among our people," my mother spits, turning on him again. "There are severe punishments for men who hurt their wives, punishments my son is well aware of. And you've seen what he's capable of in case anyone decides to try." It's a man's job to protect not only his wife's body but her honor as well. There's a list of brutal punishments reserved for murderers and rapists that are carried out by husbands, fathers, and brothers. No one will ever lay a finger on her. If anyone tries, it'll be the last thing they do.
Leaving her father and tribe behind, Zelda walks to our horses with her head hung. I mount my brown mare and hold my hand out to pull her up.
"There's no saddle?" She questions while watching my mother mount her pure black horse and grip his mane.
"There's no need for one," I say with my hand still extended. "Come on, it's a long ride."
She reaches up and grabs my hand, allowing me to promptly haul her up behind me. She scooches forward until her legs are pressed against me. Her skin is smooth and hairless, making me think she removes hair in her other areas as well. She won't be expected to do that anymore.
I click my tongue and squeeze my horse's sides to urge her into a trot. Zelda holds onto me tightly and I feel her breasts pressed against my back. She'll learn our ways and realize there's nothing for her to be nervous about. Being my bride, she's not an enemy to my people and she'll be accepted as one of us following our marriage.
The celebrations start the second the rest of our tribe sees my bride behind me. They play drums and come out of their homes to see her. We weave through the paths to the elders as the rest of them will prepare the wedding.
I dismount, holding my arms out to help her down by her waist. She's light and doesn't have any visible muscle. We'll fix that.
The strong smell of incense burns my nose upon opening the tent flap for my mother and bride. I follow them in and bow my head with my mother, both of us putting our fist over our heart, a sign of respect for the elders. There's three of them, the head elder sitting in the middle.
"Come closer children," she says, waving us closer with a wrinkled hand. I kneel in front of her, my bride following suit. "What's your name child?"
"Zelda." Her voice wavers.
"Look at me when you speak," the elder says sternly but softly. "We value respect here."
Her eyes are wide when she looks at the elder. "O-of course. My apologies."
"Don't fret. Now, do you accept him as your husband?" I hold my breath. I may have won her but does she accept it?
"I do..."
"Do you promise to accept us as we'll accept you?"
"I do."
The elder touches both of our foreheads. "You have my blessing."
With the elder's blessing, we leave the foggy tent and move to the next part of the ceremony.
"Was that it?" Zelda asks between my mother and I as we make our way to the next tent. She has a lot to learn.
"That was only the blessing child," my mother says. "Now you must be purified for each other."
"What?" She squeaks.
"Bathing."
The tent we go into has two basins with a cloth divider in the middle. It's meant to be intimate but seeing as we only just met, it's not going to have the same effect.
I go to my side and remove my helmet while Zelda and my mother go to the other side. The basin is filled with warm water to clean off the grime and blood I'm covered in.
"Come on now," my mother snaps. "Strip and get clean!"
"Right here?" Zelda squeaks. "In front of you?"
"Seeing as you don't have a mother, it's my duty to take her place."
"But we don't simply...strip nude in front of others."
"You're one of us now and you'll soon learn that the body isn't something we hide." We cover as little as possible to display our muscles and scars. Our bodies are our most prized possessions.
I strip myself and begin cleaning the blood and sweat and paint from today's tournament. I'll be repainted before the ceremony and so will she. She'll be indistinguishable from us by the end of the night.
Once I'm done bathing, I dress in a simple pair of shorts, similar to the ones I wore with my armor. There's also a leather arm cuffs that cover my forearms and a choker with monster talons attached to the front. I tie my honey blonde hair back with a short piece of blue string, leaving out my bangs and sideburns. Shorter hair falls out of the ponytail in the back against my neck, adding to the messy appearance.
I walk past the barrier and watch as my mother takes out my bride's braid. Her shorts are similar to mine, her breasts covered with a thick cloth top. Now she looks like us, the only thing missing is developed muscle. She's still beautiful without it but she'll be expected to train like everyone else.
She stares at my body with pink cheeks. "Do your cuts hurt?" she asks in a small voice.
I shake my head. "Pain is good."
"Oh..."
"You must learn to speak up," my mother scolds. "Have confidence in your words." She runs her fingers through Zelda's hip length blonde hair, parting it to the side.
My father enters now with a bowl of blue paint. He sets it on a stool between him and my mother, dipping his fingers in it to paint me in new designs. My mother does the same to Zelda. They paint bands around our upper arms and sharp triangles over our shoulders and sides.
Once we're painted, it's time for the ceremony. The drums are already playing before we leave the tent. Members of the tribe line the path to our central circle. They chant ancient verses, some of them holding candles as the sun dips behind the mountains. It gets brighter the closer we get to the circle, the fire having been built up already. Along the outside of the circles are the drummers standing behind their large drums made of wood and animal skin. Zelda's gaze moves constantly, taking in everything that's happening. From what I know, Hylians are more independent from each other, ceremonies private and families keep to themselves. Here, children are raised by everyone, marriages are celebrated together, the same as deaths. We are the only tribe unified this way. It makes us stronger.
Stopping at the altar, I face my bride. Her eyes still dart from the drummers to the dancers and the children running wild. This is what she's joining.
My mother stands behind us, facing the rest of our tribe. "My family!" she yells over the noise, silencing the drums and chants. "Tonight, we celebrate my son and welcome another into our arms!" Her grin grows wider at the wild cheers that follow. "He fought valiantly, rewarding us with glory and honor!" She reaches into her pouch where she kept Ganon's heart after I gave it to her. She holds it high above her head like I had after I ripped it from his chest. They pound on their chests, their war cries even louder than before.
"And his personal prize," my mother continues, tucking my gift away once more. "His bride, the heir to the Hylian clan!" Zelda looks up at me, her green eyes full of fear, the reflection of the flames dancing in them. "After tonight, she will be one of us!" They cheer again, making Zelda tense up.
My mother holds her hand out, waiting for the chalice to be placed in it. It's filled with dark wine, a symbol of nourishment. She holds it out to Zelda first who takes it with a shaking hand. The woman drinks first, a promise in the marriage that the man will take care of his wife before himself.
I watch her take a long drink, tilting her head back as she does. Her lips are stained purple when she's finished and she holds it out to me. I finish the sweet drink, the alcohol warming me and taking away more of my exhaustion. I trade the chalice for the ceremonial dagger, a blade with a handle of bone. Zelda's eyes widen as she watches me slice into my palm, the pain nonexistent after enduring injuries far worse.
I hold the dagger out to my bride. "Take it," I say when she hesitates. Blood pools in my palm and she takes the knife. This tradition promises the man will endure the pain before his wife.
She holds the blade over her right palm, her fingers trembling violently. The chants grow louder as they wait for her to complete the next step.
"Pain is good," I remind her. "It makes you stronger." Pride swells in my chest as I watch her expression fill with determination. She releases the breath she was holding and winces as she slices through her palm, blood welling up in the cut. She returns the dagger to my mother and I hold my cut hand out to her, clasping our wounded hands together between us, mixing our blood.
"My son," my mother says. "Do you vow to stand loyally at her side, to protect her with your life, to defend and bring her honor for as long as you live?"
Staring intently in my bride's eyes I say, "I do." She holds my gaze, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
"And do you vow to loyally stand and fight at his side, to cradle his honor and allow him to defend you for as long as you live?"
"I do," she says, confidence filling her voice for the first time since I met her.
With our wounded hands still clasped, my mother finishes the ceremony. "With your marriage to my son, you are now Zelda of the Barbarians! Allow us to welcome you as one of our own!" The cheers grow louder and more rabid and the drummers pound on the drums. "Let the celebrations begin!"
I lead my wife to the center of the crowd, the drummers setting a new rhythm for us to dance to. She grins as I stomp my bare feet into the dirt, my dance similar to how I fight, my feet moving in a pattern to the drums. I thought it wouldn't be possible to love her, that I'd be stuck in a marriage I'd forever hate. But she's not like them. They turn their nose up at our traditions, calling us primitive animals. She's finding the freedom in it, the freedom we refuse to let go of. I'll grow to love her.
My clan joins the dance, keeping us in the center. Her eyes, once full of fear, are now full of excitement as she watches the dancers, swaying her body with us. The orange glow of the fire casts our shadows over the ground as we stomp our feet into the dirt, showing her what being wild is like. I smile when she joins, clapping her hands and stomping her feet. She spins in a circle, her arms raised above her head. Her hair twirls around her, flowing freely in the air. I catch her after her spin and pull her close to me, tipping her chin up with my finger. Beads of sweat roll down her temples and her chest heaves against mine.
"What do you think?" I ask, looking at her wine stained lips.
"I think I never want to go back," she pants. She'll grow to love me too. Not only did I win honor and glory, I won companionship.
I lean down, kissing my bride for the first time. She kisses me back, the sweet taste of alcohol still on her lips. I part my lips, enjoying her touch and the warmth of hers. Her hands find my chest, pressing them firmly against me. They're soft like the skin on her waist.
She breaks our kiss, smiling up at me before letting out her own loud shout, mimicking the rest of my clan. I join her, whooping at the starry night sky. I might already be falling for her.
After dancing, we feast, the other women clicking their tongues at her thin body and pile more food in front of her.
"Oh, I don't think I can eat all this," she argues politely. Her Hylian manners.
"You've barely eaten at all!" one of the women says. "Don't you want strong and healthy children?"
"Ch-children?" I'll reassure her later. We're young and there's still plenty of time for children.
"We raise warriors, champions! You just married one!"
"I-"
"Don't worry, we'll whip you into shape soon enough." She lifts her arm up, revealing her hairless armpit to everyone. "We'll start with this."
She looks to me confused. "Do your women not shave?"
Everyone in the vicinity bursts into laughter, pounding their fists on the ground and struggling to keep from spitting their food. I shake my head, tearing another bite from my turkey leg.
"Why would they shave?" a man howls. "To please us?" His sarcastic question causes the men and women alike to laugh harder. The thought of a woman needing to shave to please her husband or lover is ridiculous.
"Hylian women shave," she says sheepishly. "I thought it was something all women did."
"Not here, we don't!" a girl her age cackles.
We ask her more questions about customs from her old clan, laughing at most and scoffing at others. Daughters need to get permission from their fathers in order to participate in tournaments or even train. It's why she never participated even though she had an interest. Fathers here begin their daughter's training from a young age, preparing her to be merciless in the ring. I'll train her, help her build her muscle and she can show her father and the Hylians what women are really capable of.
After more songs and dances well into the night, my body feels as though I might collapse, a sign I pushed my limits. I can rest knowing I'll be stronger in the morning.
I take my wife to our new home, the inside of the tent already set up by my sister and father. There's a bed on the ground made of thick furs along with a small wooden desk I doubt I'll use for anything other than storage. My weapons are stored in a chest near the door flap, my bow and quiver leaning against one of the thick wooden posts. It's warm inside, the candle offering a dim light.
I take off the leather arm cuffs and my choker, setting them on the wooden desk. I pull the string out of my hair as well, letting my untamed hair free. Zelda stands near the doorway, seemingly unsure of what to do now that we're alone. I decide to let her explore or whatever else she wants to do and I sit on the thick fur bed, my body aching from the fights and dances.
"Are you going to bed?" She asks.
"Yes," I say. "I only ask that you remember the way back if you decide to explore and keep the look out for cougars; they snoop around occasionally."
"I think I'll stay in." She rubs her wrist, looking around at her new home. "I actually thought we were going to...nevermind."
"Going to what?" I urge anyway. She's my wife now, my equal and companion. She can tell me what comes to her mind.
"I thought we were going to consummate our marriage," she says, her voice getting quieter and quieter. I had thought of it but she didn't express any desire for it. And with my body so tired, I'm not sure I could give her a very pleasurable night.
"I wasn't going to touch you unless you asked," I explain. "And sex isn't required to complete our marriage. That's what the blood was for." We share a blood bond, something stronger than a sexual relationship.
"Oh..." She rubs her wrist again before sitting next to me on the bed. "Your people are different from what I'd been told. When I watched you rip out that man's heart, I thought I was about to marry a soulless man and be trapped in a dangerous tribe, just like I'd heard from the stories."
Intrigued, I lean back on my elbows to listen. "Stories like what?"
She smiles a little. "That you feast on the flesh of your victims or you're so violent that you attack each other in your streets."
I return her smile. "We prefer venison, boar, or poultry. And we only fight each other for training."
"I see that now. It's so much different here than back home, though I guess it's not home anymore." She scooches a little bit closer. "I feel more free here, like I can make my own decisions. It's terrifying having so much freedom after my father has been picking every detail of my life. He's the one who decided I'd be married off to the victor of a tournament. He said it'd strengthen ties with our allies." He treated her like a pet. She'll never be treated that way here.
"He didn't expect me to win." But I knew I was going to.
"He told me he didn't want you to win. He said he was doing everything he could to prevent it even. It only made me more intrigued, I'll admit, especially after you took down that beast."
"We fight lynels for fun," I chuckle. "It wasn't going to stop me."
She grins. "I've never seen someone take down a lynel so efficiently before."
"I can teach you how to do it."
Her smile falters, taking on a more serious expression. "Really?"
"If you'd like. You don't have Barbarian blood so I don't expect you to be as vicious as us. You could always stay here and hunt but I could also teach you how to fight in the tournaments."
She practically bounces with excitement. "Teach me everything! I want to know how to hunt and how to kill monsters and how to fight in the arena."
"It won't be easy."
"I don't mind! I've always wanted to know how to fight!" Her enthusiasm is something to be admired. I'll teach her everything I know.
"I'll take you on the hunt tomorrow and you can learn how to ride bareback and shoot a bow."
"You-you're going to give me a weapon tomorrow?"
"How else are you going to learn?" She grins again and I smile back. I underestimated her and so did her old tribe. I can't wait to see the look on his face when her father watches her claim victory in the arena.
"Thank you," she says suddenly.
"For what?"
"Freeing me from my father's prison and showing me what living is like." I grin. She's going to fit right in.