Dusk cast darkness across the land, eerie wisps of shadows dancing about the sands and mountains as they sat jagged against the horizon. At the edges of the Desert and in the midst of ancient ruins—furnished and rebuilt in part to house an ungodly band of heathens—Beasts gathered about a fire, like moths to a flame, though it was not the fire that drew them despite the seeping chill of oncoming night.

It was to a man they gathered.

He stood at the foot of crumbling steps with his back to them, clad in a leathered tunic and burnished steel armour, adorned by rare stones—the last vestiges of a culture forgotten, and a people whose little riches were shown posthumously upon their still-living King's garments. His crimson hair, unbound from the tight curls he usually wore, was stroked lightly by the night breeze, giving it a fluidity that matched the roar of the fire behind him. Thick skinned monsters and snorting, boar-like mounts cowered back into the dim light, as his form seemed larger than any gathered, his seven foot stature accentuated by a dangerous air of power.

A large, gloved hand gestured negligently, and out of the thick of the beasts stumbled a duo of Moblins, each as ugly as each other with scars upon their snouts and hardened, beady eyes. Even they were as peons before this dark master, though nearly matched him in size.

Every growl, snort or whimper was stifled, however, when a deep, rich voice rolled forth to fill the silence.

"...Gentlemen." He began with a hint of amusement, the leather of his glove pulling taut as he made a fist. "Here you amass to bear witness to the birth of a new age, not unlike one that past, so very long ago. The calling you heed is one that you all will obey, and in doing so, will continue to live under me as your master. No longer will you wander aimlessly in the night without purpose... No, I have need of an army and you will be the first of my soldiers."

The horde was filled with the hushed whispers of intrigue, guttural and simple in thought, as the reason for their instinctual draw to this place was answered. Many eyes exchanged glances as attention returned to the man, and he himself turned finally to face them.

Darkly tanned skin seemed to glow with copper tones in the fire light, and cast against the sands of his ancient home, even now he maintained the look of a its ruler—harsh lines making up his face, a long held scowl set about a prominent nose, exotic in feature. Amber eyes levelled a wild gaze upon the two hulking Moblin, the shine in them suggesting he was the beastliest of all those gathered.

"You two are the heads of your... pitiful 'tribes', and thus the strongest and most capable of your kin. You will go out into the world and fetch what I require."

He scanned them quietly, taking in their appearance. Rippling muscles bound by thick, dark grey hide, each littered with battle scars and able to carry three times their weight. The shorter of the two was squat in stature but more than making up for it in girth; coarse hair held back by a leather throng, braided crudely, with a large slash mark upon his snout. The other, bald, with large ears and a protruding jaw—tusk-like teeth rose upward from it and he was thinner than the other, but not by much.

The mountain and forest leaders, He thought, reassuring himself, Surely together they will be able to pull off a simple game of fetch. All of that strength and force behind the retrieval of one treasure, along with the element of surprise... A pity I do not have more time to call on more capable choices.

Pushing any doubt to the back of his mind, the Gerudo grimaced lightly before continuing with a low and threatening tone.

"I seek a girl. A Princess, in fact... Listen well, for I will only say this once and likewise, you will only have one shot at this. Fail and you will perish."

One of the Moblin masters flinched at this, taking to idly chewing its cheek at the thought. The other, with the tusk like teeth, simply stared at nothing in particular and thought about the fact that it could not eat horse-meat stew were it to die. He quickly found that the prospect upset him, and after a moment, cringed like the other.

Ganondorf's heavy boot shifted some, pushing the sands about beneath it, as his posture straightened.

"The girl you seek is the Hylian Princess. Long, pointed ears, blonde hair... She will appear tiny to you; almost frail, delicate. She is young, still a child, yet on the cusp of growing into a woman. She will be wise... So you would do will not to listen to her—it is likely she may try to persuade you from capturing her, given the chance. She resides within the walls of the castle. Go now. Find her and bring her to me."

With a dutiful grunt from one and a snort of strained comprehension by the other, the Moblins found themselves dismissed with a wave of his hand. Bokoblins garbed in patchwork vests brought them their crude effects and mounts, and within minutes, the desert sands were whipped up behind their charging boars as they set out into the night to achieve their task.

And so it was that two Moblins, not the brightest of creatures by any stretch, came to find themselves at the gates of Hyrule Castle Town by and by. A defiance in their natures certainly, and any normal citizen would be alarmed by their appearance so close to civilisation, very few of them realising what that presence may mean. But as the beating stubby hooves took them closer, another oddity had occurred within the town walls—a pillbug had rolled its way along the cobblestone in search of a cupboard, and sadly, gotten quite lost.

Normally, a pillbug's sense for where a cupboard was couldn't be matched. If it came to finding one, there was no equal in all the land, and if ever in need of a cupboard one should certainly ask a pillbug. Perhaps it was the moisture in the air, or the distractingly lovely glow towards the bar, but this lonesome insect rolled along hopelessly in search of its elusive home among the plates and knick-knacks of someone's house all the same.

Little did it know, it was being stalked.

Tucked inconspicuously behind the corner of a nearby house, hidden by the shadow of the eaves, bright lavender eyes watched the pillbug's journey with interest. A fluttering of long lashes accompanied by a gentle hum, she stepped from shadow to shadow, creeping ever closer to her quarry.

"Oh, Mr. Pillbug..." She sang softly, a lyrical and happy voice springing from a sweet smile.

The bug stopped immediately, tiny antennae twitching at the sound. The pad of two feet landing after a small hop seemed to startle it however, as it curled up protectively in response. Had it unfurled, it would have seen the visage of a girl bent to peer down at it charmingly, clutching a woven basket of assorted jars and one small net. Her dress was made up of hand sewn fabrics, lace upon the hems and home made jewellery and beads shimmering lightly by torchlight as it flickered from a lonely iron sconce.

Wispy blonde bangs hung over her forehead, rosy cheeks adorned with spots of colour—blue, red and green, like the goddesses in the heavens above. Her lips held a natural pout that all but vanished, to be replaced by the dimples beside her cheery smile.

"Are you lost, little pillbug? Come with Agitha, she has a wonderful cupboard for you to live in..." She cooed, offering a dainty, cloth wrapped hand for it to climb onto.

Without any further fear, as if her voice were a siren's call, the small insect uncurled and with little more than a tentative twitch of feelers, took its invitation to crawl across her fingers. The warmth of her palm was a far cry from the chilled cobblestone, and quickly the pillbug was at ease, even lifted high up from its world to be held before her face.

Pigtails bounced lightly with her airy giggle, a sound that would lift the hearts of any who heard it, as a leather bonnet held the tresses in their perky pose. She was a gorgeous sight, even to an insect—perhaps, to an insect especially. Not many insects could bow, but if they could, surely they would kneel before the lovely Princess Agitha. She turned on her heel in a fluid motion, with all the grace of a butterfly upon the breeze, and took off in a light skip toward her castle home.

"You shall love Agitha's cupboard, Mr. Pillbug, and her castle. There are so many friends of yours there waiting." A grand castle it was too, with two levels and stained glass; greenery and a looking window—just like any castle ought to have. Save for one thing: a throne. The castle of a bug Princess held no throne, but this was no matter to the insects.

Agitha knew better than that. She had wings upon her back to fly with them, to be free among them, for no man, woman or Princess should ever lord over such cute subjects from a throne when they could play in the fields alongside them.

But as a cheerful and carefree hum echoed lightly through the alley ways, it caught the floppy, chipped ears of one of the Moblin leaders, who had made their clumsy way well and truly into town, creeping down the empty back streets. His coarsely braided mane whipping over his shoulder guard as his head turned to the sound; he paused to consider what he'd heard.

A lofty whack was given to his partner in order to get their attention, drawing a disgruntled snort as beady yellowed eyes blinked toward the other.

"Get back, dere she is... I see 'er..." He growled low in a strange and surly brogue, leaning a heavy frame just enough to peer around the alley corner, and past a large terracotta pot.

The other, eyes narrowed in offence to the whack before his mind caught up to the words just in time to stave off a returned blow, suddenly moved to peer past. From around large tusks, which had the habit of slurring his speech some, his chops twitched before speaking.

"...How d'ya know it's the one the Mas'sah wants, Domah? Could be any li'l girl..." He grumbled, incredulous as he fumbled with his poorly made vest, picking at loose stitching.

"She said she was a Princess, Forg. I 'eard her me'self." Domah scoffed, as if it were obvious. "She's goin' to the castle with dat bug she jus' caught... Probably gonner eat it... No wonder she's so skinny." He mused aloud, scratching his protruding belly as he refocussed his thoughts as best he could.

The only thought that mattered to Domah at this point was the threat of death that awaited should either return empty handed—if not very much of anything got through to the thick-headed leader of the Mountain Moblins, the malicious glint burning in the Gerudo's eyes wasn't one of them to go amiss.

Straining himself to contemplate—the visible twitching of his eye momentarily giving this fact away—Forg brought a chubby hand to scratch at his maw. "She got yellow hair... And she got dem pointy ears, too... She's all tiny-like... And a Princess, what lives in a castle... But Mas'sah said she gotta be wise. How are we t'know dat?"

With a roll of his muscled shoulders, tribal tattoos rippling with the movement, Domah gave his partner a jagged toothed grin. "...We'll go give 'er a test."

A strange and absent chuckle sounded between them, before they set off after the girl—They stalked down the alleyway with careful steps, as stealthy as was possible for beasts their size.

Unfortunately, that translated to the volume of a heavyset man stomping along in steel greaves, and in the empty streets, the sound carried clearly.

Down the way, from outside her 'castle', Agitha stopped, pointed ears twitching to the sound of footsteps. She blinked some, not expecting to be followed at such an hour, and casually turned her head to look down the softly lit alleyway. What she managed to catch in the shadows was the shuffling movement of something three times her size, trying hopelessly to hide itself after noticing her gaze.

Delicate brows furrowed some in confusion—nobody in Castle Town was so large, or so... monstrously shaped. Any other girl her age might have fled through the threshold of their home and slammed the door to lock it, fixing every latch possible before propping a chair against it for good measure, but she was not like the other children on these streets. Squinting through the shadow, she placed the rescued pillbug on her collar, stepping away from her door and back out into the open.

"Hello? Has somebody come to see Agitha?" She called out blindly, not readily being able to think of any other reason for there to be a stranger nearby. Perhaps they had come with another of her wayward subjects. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, the girl's welcoming smile returned.

"Come on out here." Agitha coaxed gently, waving one hand toward the silhouette while the other tugged idly at her laced skirts, the jars rattling lightly within her basket.

A grunt was heard, and then something akin to a hand connecting with a pumpkin, along with a throaty language that made little sense to the girl. As she blinked, and her pillbug crawled to hide behind a lock of her hair, the shadows shifted slowly, the beasts emerged from the stone alcove and into the lantern light cast from beside her doorway.

They held harsh, serious looks upon their haggard faces, piggish features screwed up in scrutiny. They dressed plainly, crudely made leather garments like that of men, though clearly these were beasts, towering above her. They looked as if they could swallow her in a single bite, crush her with one hand; the notion occurred to Agitha that perhaps a Goddess had mixed a bulldog with a boar and made them stand on their hinds in humour.

Tilting her head some as she studied them, any confusion as to whether she might flee soon vanished as she began to clap. She bounced on her feet, with a light giggle, moving quickly toward them. "Piggies! Oh, have you come to play with Agitha? Don't be scared, everybody can be friends with Agitha, she won't run away, no no no!"

Not expecting this, Forg took a step back without thinking, but shook his head forcefully and took to thrusting a chubby finger at the girl—She stopped just short of it, staring at it with her mouth set in a little 'o'.

"Oi, you... Princess! You is a Princess, ain't ya?" He growled out around his tusks, raising a lofty brow. Domah gave him a glance, but kept silent, mirroring his expression as he folded bulky arms over his chest.

Agitha simply blinked once, before her lips split into a sweet smile. She dipped quickly into a curtsy—a gesture lost on the beasts—and nodded when she stood, her pigtails bouncing lightly. "I am Princess Agitha, of the Bug Kingdom, yes." She beamed, clasping her hands in front of her happily. She did so love making new friends—they may not have been insects, but they seemed to look scary, and usually, scary things didn't have many friends. Something Agitha held no qualms in rectifying.

"...Bug Kingdom...?" The Moblin leaders repeated in unison, blinking with some confusion.

Agitha nodded once more, brushing her hair aside and retrieving her tiny insect companion to let him roll about in her palm. "Oh, yes, it is a glorious kingdom... Many subjects, of all shapes and sizes. Little ones, cute ones, ones that can fly and flutter and roll around, dig holes, spin webs, hide in the leaves..."

Forg looked to Domah, an expression of confusion stained onto his brutish face. Luckily, Domah kept his head, living up to his name as the most clever Moblin for the last century—realistically, that wasn't saying much, but even as far as Moblins went, his next thought was definitely an exceptional one.

"Al'right den, Princess bug. What about that one dere you got? You gonner eat it?" He rumbled, scratching his round belly idly.

The girl looked at him with a horrified expression, a tiny gasp accompanied by her other hand lifting to clasp protectively over the pillbug—he'd be awfully upset if he'd heard talk of being eaten. She frowned, a cute expression that held no anger, but did indeed show some indignity at the foolish notion.

"Of course not, Mr. Piggy! How could somebody eat a poor little bug? I'll have you know that bugs are not good for eating at all, no no no, and even if they were, this one is quite unpalatable!" She stopped, furrowing her brows as she whispered to her hands, "...No offence..."

Clearing her throat, she continued, closing her eyes in a matter-of-fact manner. "Armadillidiidae are not for eating... But if you wanted to feed him, you might give him some leftovers. Let him be in a kitchen and he'll find a cupboard and be quite happy. He is part of the woodlice family, you know, they are fond of wood."

The beasts stared down at her, quite unawares as to what exactly she was on about, but she'd used a very long word and looked as if she knew exactly what she meant. She didn't even have to stop and think about it first. Slowly, after a few moments, Forg turned his head to peer at Domah, a wry and ugly smile showing the gum holding his tusks in place.

"Sounds t'me like she knows an awful lot 'bout them critters, Domah."

Domah nodded some, his grin showing off equally horrendous teeth. "You'd be right dere, Forg. She knows plenn'y... And whatta ya call knowin' plenn'y?"

"...I'd call it bein' wise." Forg chuckled with a nod, suddenly taking to cracking his knuckles in slow, sickening pops.

Agitha glanced between the two of them, noticing immediately that something in the air had changed—they were advancing on her with those greedy looks, like the boy down the road looked at candy through the shop window. Unconsciously, the tiny girl took a step back, a strange tingle of apprehension shooting down her spine.

"...A-Agitha isn't tasty either, and you know, it is very rude to eat someone you've just m-met... We're friends, and fr-friends don't eat each other!" She chastised shakily, holding up a finger in protest as wide eyes flitted about toward her door. There was no way she'd get in now without them barging in as well. The pillbug seemed to sense the danger, and quickly rolled into what was, quite possibly, the tightest ball it had ever managed as from Forg's satchel pouch was produced something that looked suspiciously like a Hessian wheat bag.

A lonely scream echoed eerily across the cobblestone streets that night, waking more than a few of the neighbours from peaceful slumbers—the scream of a small girl, the only girl on the street without a parent, though closely watched by any decent one nearby. The guards on night duty came rushing to Agitha's castle in search of the source, spears drawn at the ready to protect the littlest resident, but sadly, found nothing. Several of the families who shared the street searched the alleys, lanterns lit and eyes prying into every nook and cranny, but to no avail.

The second Princess of Hyrule Castle Town, held dear by many more than insects it seemed, had vanished without a trace to leave a rather large gathering of people to return to their homes with heavy hearts, wondering what evil stalked their streets as to attack poor Agitha.

As dawn broke hours later, the sky painted with orange streaks, one boy continued to search, calling out for her and refusing to give up. Finally, he stopped outside her window, as he did everyday, and peered inward to see his Princess no longer there. She had been stolen from the gates of her own castle... and her subjects needed tending. He'd watched her so many times while she performed her duties; he knew how to care for them, and make sure that Agitha had a Kingdom to return to.

And so he began, swallowing his sadness to go out and fetch fresh leaves for their breakfasts.

Meanwhile, far from the contained world of the Castle Town that Agitha had known all her life, she now found herself wriggling hopelessly within a canvas sack, tossed about on the back of giant saddled boar. She could see very little through the pin-prick holes within the fabric, but the light of day and a severe change in climate would denote that hours had passed easily, and with them many miles.

Her beastly captors did not even provide her a conversation on which to eavesdrop or glean information out of, instead jabbering on in some horrid language of their own. The canvas material held her tightly, curling her into a foetal position as the searing heat seeped through with a vengeance. Somewhere in the blur of it all, Agitha began to cry—an almost foreign thing to the bug Princess, these tears of being scared and no longer in control. She had felt such things only once before, and the reminder only served to deepen her quiet sobs.

The pillbug, being a kindly creature, curled into the hollow of her collarbone comfortingly, hidden by a tucked hem. It may never see a cupboard again, but the tears of its Princess far outweighed that in priority. It would simply console and keep company until they both returned to her castle somehow, and in doing so, the promised paradise among her plates.

A change in momentum drew the fragile girl out of her withdrawn state as suddenly, everything came to a stop. Clutching tightly at her puffed cotton sleeves, nervously, lavender eyes strained to make out anything she could from within her material confines. Sweat stung her eyes, blonde bangs sticking to her forehead and the sides of her face, but through the tiniest gaps was found some semblance of sight.

The outside world was glaringly bright, wherever she was—the air held an earthy scent, something of a rare spice, and smoke. Something dewy as well, musty like the stink of a wet dog, and she realised there must have been quite a few more beasts about than just the two.

She blinked, squinting and shifting uncomfortably, her toes curling in anxiety. There was little more she could do.

…Oh… The smoke, and more of them… They are going to eat me; they already have a fire to roast poor Agitha…

The thought turned to a whimper as the sac was roughly shifted; the sound of ropes whipping about suggesting it was being untied from the mount. A moment of weightlessness was quickly followed by her small frame being shunted forward in the wheat bag, gravity taking its toll as she was handled roughly. Agitha winced, her skin itching from the Hessian and her legs and forearms chaffed and stinging—her left hip was bruised some from the ride as well.

The sound came somewhat muffled, but soon, a higher pitched voice speaking the same growling tongue spoke up, answered in kind by the beast holding her. They seemed very pleased with themselves, though she could be mistaken—their dialect was one of feeling, she'd gathered, and if one listened to the tone and inflection, they may decipher at least the basic mood. The higher pitched one paused, before it spoke again much more meekly. It must've been a question of some sort, but the answer it received was a vicious, and perhaps even a defensive one.

Agitha cried out as the sac was suddenly jolted again, feeling as if she'd been tossed about in a heavy punch—A nauseating crunch was heard, heavy and solid in impact. Immediately, her cloth wrapped hands shot to clamp over her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut in some shock and revulsion of the new sound. Her pristine mind was suddenly assaulted, tainted by the thoughts of bones cracking and sinewy flesh tearing apart and it made her feel a strange gnawing, like a lost memory attempting to resurface. Never did she think such things; all but forgetting such violence existed until forced to face it.

As it echoed in her mind, her shock blinded her to the return of slow movement, a sign that they had begun walking again. The two Moblin leaders who had captured her were now talking with a much different tone, something belittling and even a bit haughty, accentuated by the way they seemed to bite out the words.

It was hard to hear anything over the beating of her heart within her ears, though they twitched to any sound, foreign or familiar. Any thoughts had dwindled into a numbed sense of panic, angst and disbelief as her body took over, a strange pulse of adrenaline making itself known. She wouldn't open her eyes, her fingers curled around her arms and digging into fabric—even a shoe had come loose, and Agitha was never one to have that; normally the girl had an obsessive compulsive desire to have everything on her person just so, but now all of that seemed… unimportant.

The creak of heavy doors sounded, and it seemed as if they had crossed into another world entirely. Silence ruled; the harsh light of the outdoors was no longer present, and with the shadow came a deathly chill so contradictory to the heat she'd endured. Even the occasional, seemingly reflexive grunt from the beasts hushed in this place, the only thing audible being a faint crackle—a small fire somewhere nearby. The air felt thick, heavy, as if weighted by some implacable pressure and Agitha's heart began to beat faster—somehow, the thought of being eaten had paled in the presence of this unknown, and while this fear she couldn't put to anything in particular, it was an instinctual one that couldn't be swallowed down.

Then she was thrown. She could hear the air move around the bag harshly, a dull pain racking her shoulder as it caught the brunt of the impact. Not as hard as she'd expected, the ground seemed to give and shift beneath her weight. The pillbug flew from her collar to hurtle toward the side of the wheat bag, nothing more than an insignificant ball as it bounced off, luckily not crushed by its mistreated Princess. Writhing some in discomfort, Agitha's answer as to where she was came through in tiny grains, seeping in through the pin-pricks. Her eyes grew wide when she spotted them, knowing now exactly how hopelessly far from home she'd been taken.

Sand. She was in the Desert, not in Hyrule proper at all but far into the West, where the maps only defined the world in unsure patches, drafted by the hardiest of explorers.

Then one of the Moblins spoke in low and humble tones, as clear as was possible from their native tongue, though still a rough and partially garbled Hylian.

"Me Lord, we have got you the Princess what you been searchin' fer. She weren't no trouble at all…"

Agitha held her breath, unblinking as she waited. A few good moments passed, until finally, a boot fall, heavy though with little sound. When their master spoke, it came a rich rumble, smooth like a lie but gravelled like a man.

A man… A human.

"Have you really now? …Prompt, very prompt indeed." He chuckled, but it didn't sound as if her were impressed. "…Too prompt for my liking, in fact."

A confused sound was burbled, stuttered almost, as the other Moblin with the tusks spoke—she could tell by the difficulty he had in not drowning his words with spit.

"Mas'sah, you said to get 'er quick-like. An' we did… We gave 'er a test an' all. She got everythin' you asked fer… A Princess from a castle with Yellow 'air, pointy ears, small-like, and very, very wise, Mas'sah, tested 'er me'self… Well, uh, unless she ain't wise… then Domah be testin' 'er."

A long pause followed, and Agitha began to think they may have left, panic setting in once more. Then, she heard something that reminded her of the guards; metal, sliding with a hiss. She flinched instinctively, recognising it—someone had drawn a very sharp blade.

She was not the only one to recoil at the sound either, as a snort of surprise and apprehension echoed out. A sickening squelch and a splattering of something wet followed shortly after as a distinctly pig-like squeal echoed forth. The Hessian buckled beside her face, stained by the blow, a dotted pattern of dark, purple tinged crimson now upon it. For a moment Agitha's mind strained to understand what had occurred, but as the beast let out a pained grunt and began to breathe with a ragged, shallow intake, the deepest and most quiet corner of her mind pieced it together reluctantly.

"M…Mas…sah…uch…" The sickening gurgle came forth, devolving quickly into choked words of the Moblin language.

The master spoke again, calm and to the point, though it seemed directed at the other. "For your sake Domah, he had better be correct." The blade was removed with another wet swipe, as to the sand fell a heavy body with a thump.

A shuffling of clumsy, desperate movement along the sand drew near, and Agitha was shunted again as the bag was hoisted and claws all but ripped it apart. She squealed, tussled about and with little more than a glimpse of the wooden chambers, the Bug Princess hit the sand with a painful cry. Fire seemed to travel across her scalp as one of her pigtails was yanked upward, bringing her up forcefully to dangle with her knees brushing against the ground. She squealed, renewing her tears as her eyes slammed shut and frantic hands flew to fight of the beast's grip on her hair.

"Princess Bug! Here she be, Mas'sah! No more!" Domah pleaded hoarsely, beady eyes trained upon the glowing blade soaked with his kin's blood. "Jus' take 'er, no kill!" His speech seemed to grow into a more literal translation of his own in desperation, his hulking form jittery now as he shook his head urgently.

In the haze of it all, Agitha's eyes opened just enough to see, through the blur of tears, a towering dark figure. Dressed only in a pair of loose fitting cotton pants, held around his lower waist securely by a silken sash, one could clearly see the criss-crossing of scars upon his skin; a warrior, certainly, but one scar topped them. Across the abdominals lay a brilliant streak, like a crack upon glass, glowing with a silver hue.

His hair was a blaze of red, tumbling over broad shoulders in tussled waves—his chin sporting a neatly tended patch of it. The rest of him seemed as a shadow, dark skin in the dim light absorbing any glow from the fire. She could make out the details of his face, bathed in shade as it was to cast harsh relief, amber eyes glistening like suns; death in them as fiery brows knitted a fierce scowl into place. His lip lifted just enough for a pointed canine to be seen through a sneer.

To the left of him, face down and bleeding out quickly, was Forg, and still his thick blood dripped from the blade that had ended him. Pure white, glowing with tainted purity and almost matching the scar, the weapon shed the little light needed to add camber, outlining tightly coiled muscle as it was lifted toward Domah, and with him, Agitha.

"…Congratulations Domah. She matches the description…" The sneer transformed into a horrid and feral smirk. "Allow me to show you your reward."

Lavender eyes shot wide as her breathing stopped entirely. She matched his description? He was looking for her? What did he want with her? He wouldn't hurt her, would he? The air seemed heavier still, and slowly, the pain subsided as the grip on her pigtail released. She collapsed to her knees, hands seeking to stabilise her as she simply stared down at the sand beneath, unable to do anything more. Her pillbug lay curled below her, safe in his ball still.

How she wished, more than ever, to be a pillbug and curl up, rolling away unnoticed into a cupboard.

But nothing happened. Not a step nor a swing, not a sound was made as all became silent once again. Her fingers curled into the sand helplessly, the fleeting hope that this may be a nightmare returning to her, as her gaze drifted courageously away from her companion and up to the Master. He still stood in the same pose, that sinister and sickly curve on his lips, blade tilted up toward the beast. Those piercing golden eyes lowered inconspicuously toward her, locking onto her own for only a moment.

The air was filled with a sound that could not be imagined unless one were present to have heard it, something like a water balloon overfilled by the fountain and bursting early. Agitha did not hear it fully, her mind would not process it—to her, it was muffled, blocked out by the weight of this Master's gaze. The walls and sands were peppered with gory debris, chunks of flesh and bone amongst splashes of blood, once taken together to make up Domah's head. Now, little more than a macabre jigsaw puzzle, twisted and warped so that it may never hold the same shape, even if reassembled.

The slick, sticky warmth covered her back in splatters, dotted her legs, infused with her golden tresses and seeped past her clothes. The heaviest of it ran in slim rivulets down her snowy flesh and stained the ground around her as it dripped, absorbed as the desert drank deep of it. It painted pink wings, handcrafted to give her freedom and worn upon her back, always—it would break something in her, to realise that those wings could never carry her away, like a butterfly, from this moment.

The sodden slump of the corpse fell backward against the wooden wall, painting it a sickly black colour. Now, she was alone with the Master who had sought her, without distraction.

The Gerudo looked down at her, nonchalantly plucking a handkerchief from a pocket and taking to wiping the blood from the beautiful, misused blade. A thoughtful click of his tongue echoed as he held the weapon up and inspected it.

"Get up, child. You stand before a King. Introduce yourself."

Her arms trembled as she drew a taxing breath, her stomach turning within her, and struggled feebly to stand. Upon wobbling legs, Agitha stared down at the blood about her feet—one without a shoe—and drew on her one defence, hoping for all the world it would sustain her now as it always had. Rebellious against her weak ankles, the child dipped low, clutching the sides of her ruined dress as she managed a curtsy.

The pillbug slowly unfurled, plucking up its courage, and scurried across the sand to take up place upon her bare foot protectively, its feelers raised and twitching gallantly.

Tilting her head up and scraping all of her grace—and daring—together, Agitha stared up at him from beneath long lashes.

"…You have an audience with Princess Agitha, of the Bug Kingdom… Your Majesty."

A/N: Hello again!

To those who know me, just a note to say: The next chapter of Sentinel of Shadows is almost ready, I've got two alternate endings to the chapter and I'm still deciding which one is better used for consistency later.

In the meantime, I couldn't resist getting this out. I've had this idea for a tale for ages, and I was just in the right mood for it to start now. This is written in my humour style, and is likely to flip from serious to humorous at any given moment—It's a bit whimsical really.

Agitha just doesn't get enough love, and I adore her. And of course you all know how I love my Ganondorf fix. Also, on another note, I seem to have a tendency of killing comic relief characters; but then again, writing their speech annoyed me. Damn Moblins. Oh well, plenty more of them.

Two dead already, isn't this exciting!

And forewarned, this isn't going to be as fluffy as you might first think. Dark and philosophical things await—also, exploration of Agitha, primarily.

As always, onward to glory!