Okay, so guys, I'm definitely kicking up the vagueness a notch, but don't worry. In time, all will be revealed to thee. Lol XD

Anyway, I've really tried to stop using "flowery" words, but it's hard because I'm a college student who loves to write and it just comes out naturally. Sorry, guys, but I'm really trying, so please read with much speed. Thank you!


Unrequited Requiem

Chapter 2: An Unlikely Vister

Horses clambered up to the stone tabernacle, several cross-armored men hopping off the saddles and running up to the shrine. Their equipment rattled behind them, but no one else was here to fill up the dreaded beclouded atmosphere with their protests, so the men staggered straight in.

The masonry of the blocky temple was overcastted by several vines and a layer of leaden dust that had settled over the years. Now, for the first time, these timbered doors were finally being shoved open. Torchlights and unused stairways paved the way for the handful of travelers, but in the center, a rosy ruby emanated a fierce light that soon bounced off the faded, crusted walls.

"Krohzen, give me the Voltzan," murmured a drone man of about six feet in height and musty eyebrows, bathed in a feathery friar's robe, making him seem sacrosanct when in all totality, he was just another burglar setting sights on the precious gem inside.

The man called Krohzen tossed over an electronically juiced-up sword, and the abbot caught it haphazardly. He jostled with it until it stopped stinging his hands and then his empty sheath finally consumed it, but that radiant spark refused to die away.

"Thank you, Krohzen," the man responded before whistling to the soldiers in behind Krohzen. "Men, seek me with thine watching eyes and listening ears." Once he got their attention, he spoke, "Good, now you all know why we are here, correct?"

A man in the back raised his hand but his copartner held it back down. "Know your place, soldier," the minister said. "Okay, so the Eldritch Stone lies in the back waiting for us to grab it, but remember, there are still the foul spirits of Lethumbre lingering about this place, so keep on your guard."

"Question," uttered another knight with a soaring hand. "What if there are traps and we can't get out?"

The friar smacked his head and was about to refuse to answer that question. "Yaraus, can't you find another time to pick an even more insolent question? For now, keep your mouth shut and you won't get into any trouble."

Someone muttered under their breath, but the frigorific voice didn't breathe from any of the priest's soldiers. "Fragt! Curse you, demons!" it raged, booming louder as it reverberated across the chamber. "Do you dare enter these consecrated grounds? You vile scum will not be able to proceed any further!"

But then it dissipated and the soldiers were sent trembling to their knees. "Oh hush! Old Zane isn't going to get you into any trouble, scumholes! Now keep your traps shut and get moving! We can't waste any more time!"

The armada of troops stormed through the phantasmal dungeon and down a rutted carpet. Aisles of unfolded pews where no evangelists sat upon any longer were recumbent and had to have been knocked over by a strong person because a fiend would make a mess of it. A bedded nadir comforted a chestnut gemstone gleaming a firelight spectacle at the center.

Krohzen scurried over to the burning pedestal and dropped to his knees, but Zane pardoned himself and pushed the foolish man out of the way. He held electrifying Voltzan in his hand and rested it against the fleecy warmth of the concavity. Within moments he was humming to himself and the incantation projected a monocular light ray from his heart whereby then the Voltzan was pointed upwards and absorbed the light of the spell.

Only a few seconds later did the Eldritch Stone start losing its bionic, magical qualities and the crimson light started dissevering and finally disappeared. Now an exemplary model for magic was transformed into nothing more than a meaningless dud and the Voltzan was firing with an unremitting energy and struck the walls of the temple.

A pulsation shattered a piece of the ceiling above, chunky stones beginning to rain on the floor. "Good goddesses! It seems as if the Voltzan is repressing us!" Krohzen cursed, diving for cover under a fallen pew and turning into an obscure shadow.

Zane set his mouth into a straight line. "Wait for it…wait…"

Then a rocketing explosion shook the entire building and clutters of dross became stripped from the roof. The flaring of light from the Voltzan compelled Zane backwards, but he held his ground as he dug his feet into the potholed carpet. Screams rang out when some of the fire from the torches swirled about in the air and constructed a column of flames above the inept knights. The flames swelled throughout the chamber and that calamitous voice from earlier return to wreak havoc on the hapless soldiers below.

"I warned you! Doomed you are now, men, and you cannot escape!" it sliced back. A visible form of an apparition sleeved through the walls and squished the heads of some men while they were still alive. With alacrity to retrieve its stolen prize, the harsh windswept specter was immediately facing Zane and held wintry white arms above its head.

Zane recruited the strength of the Voltzan and thrust it out in front of him. "Stay back! Do not come any closer, wretched soul!" he swore, feeling the repossessed vigor swim up his arms and quenching his thirst for power.

Krohzen crept out of the confined compartment beneath the leaning column and glared back at the cyclonic ghost sweeping an arm out at Zane and stealing his sword. "Hey! I know who you are!" Krohzen piped, the mismatched spirit blasting Zane against the wall. "Zelahem, the Scepter of Midnight. Don't think you can obscure yourself by becoming a ghost! I can see right through the guise!"

Zelahem, the morphed ghost, screeched at Krohzen and lividly approached the snub-faced man. A grim expression highlighted Krohzen's face. "You who hath stolen the Stone…Hand it over!" it snarled, raising a glowing scythe teeming with swollen black magic.

Krohzen acted like he didn't know what the reaper was talking about, so he carefully thumbed the back pocket of his trousers for the Eldritch Stone, and there it was. "I have nothing, soulless beast," he threatened. "Go back in your little hole and go to sleep. Leave us alone."

Zelahem furrowed his "eyes" and floated to Krohzen, face merely inches from the wanted man. "You see him? Drop the Stone now or he will be sacrificed to the Gods of Aevies! Along with the rest of your kin!"

Krohzen didn't waver and pressed his back against a shattered wall. Zane looked meekly at his descendent and rose to one knee to gather himself. "Kro-Krohzen…just give it to…him…" he said weakly.

Krohzen looked between his father and Zelahem. "I don't know what you're talking about! I have nothing to hand over!" he barked back.

Zane was regaining his strength and subtly walked over to the terrified man. "G-Give…G-Give me…the Eldritch Stone…"

Zelahem targeted Zane with the effervescent bulwark of fire, but the recovering man was gaining his strength back rather swiftly. His determination showed when he barreled out of the way and brought Krohzen down with him, returning to him the sword he so desired. Balls of firelight consumed boarded benches as they darted through the rows of pews, and all around them, several members of their miniature fleet had perished as well.

When finally Zane rounded a corner to which he could stand appropriately, but not without the lurking of danger, he ravenously shook Krohzen's shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking? Hand the Stone to me now! Before he kills the both of us!"

Krohzen sighed defeatedly and fingered the object out of his pockets, but then traced his hands on something vacant. "I don't have it! See? I told you!"

Zane could hear Zelahem careening around the corner and turning his sights on the only two humans still alive. "Curses! The creep is gaining on us!" he uttered profanely. "Give it to me now, Krohzen, or consider yourself fired! You got that?"

Krohzen shook his head with submission. "I really do not have it, father," he said in return, showing the old coot his empty pockets.

Zelahem finally caught up with the both of them and leaned against the craggy wall. "You couldn't even conceal a majestic relic as this," he said while thumbing with the familiar Eldritch Stone in his "hands". "Now because you have sapped the power from its nexus, I shall throw you into the Moara!"

Zane whipped out the Voltzan in front of him, shining brilliantly with a firegold sheen. "You think you can outsmart us, Zelahem? Well, try this on for size!"

He summoned a brocaded skein of light to the blade's surface and flung it at the ominous ghost, but Zelahem narrowly circumvented it by fading from view. He reappeared behind Zane and in one fluent velocity, ripped the man's arms out of their sockets and his sword bounced out of now hacked off hands. Zane fell to his knees and screamed as his blood poured profusely from the shoulder vacuities that now were visible to his earth-shaken son.

Krohzen stepped back at the harrowing state of his father. He grabbed the Voltzan and charged Zelahem. "You bastard! How dare you hurt my father!"

A multiplicity of shadows surrounded Krohzen and upheld him in the air. Zane looked on with mordant eyes at Zelahem but that expression would remain locked on his face as his head was torn off his shoulders, decking the floor with charcoal blood.

"F-Father!" he cried, trying to stymie a fate congruent to his father's. But he choked down his esophagus and showed deference when Zelahem and his archetypes honed in on Krohzen and pointed jagged scythes at his chest. "N-No…Please…give me mercy…!"

Zelahem grinned sinisterly. "Never for a thief," he growled, each duplicate lifting their scimitars and finally lancing them through Krohzen.

In his last moments, he experienced flashbacks and a wave of nausea, all associated with times spent in the treasuries at Wisimich and Bardal Tower. His father teaching him his first words in Vraskan; his father introducing him to a sun-bronzed lassie barely ten years of age; his father sending him off to the Craftsman's Academy to learn his first few lessons in blacksmithing; his father teaching him the ways of the sword; his father lecturing him about the Star Scrolls and their purpose; his father-

"F-Father…" Krohzen groaned and was now feeling the pain and agony he caused during those years, it all flashing back to him in that split moment. "…I-I'm…I'm…s-sorry…." And with that, he expired, his body plopping to the floor, staining the leathery carpet and abraded bureaus salmon red.

Zelahem seized the Voltzan and crumbled it to ash, retrieving what was rightfully his, the Eldritch Stone. "Bare fools, you think you have the strength to take down a god?" he said, reducing the flames to nothingness and slithering through the cracks of the walls and his clones returning to his body. "You have not the will to slay a spirit of Lethumbre! Muhahaha!"

Zelahem slipped from room to room and then out of the tabernacle. "Now the Sunrise Princess is one step away from her transformation. But those imbeciles beat me to it! May shame be placed on your dead souls!"

He wanted to be the one to prevent be the antagonist, not some dregs from Wisimich. They had hardly the tenacity to withstand the trials upon which extending the Sunrise Princess's sleep would create for them. Zelahem was an immortal, quintessential entity whose sole preposition was to gain eternal recognition by the Gods of Aevies for having done something remarkable with himself. But he had an even bigger drive to prolong the Sunrise Princess's slumber, one that he was going to find out sooner or later, even if it meant his death.

Those clouded, glacial eyes and frostbitten words graced the area once more. "I need to hurry up and get to Thor Mountain before it is too late…"


Link couldn't take it anymore. The knocking was getting absurd and more ardent as his exasperation increased. "Hello? Who is there?" he asked from the blue.

Whatever it was, it was teasing him, testing him to see if he would react. When the rapping was unbearable and became more fervid, Link bashed the pillow against the wall and rubbed his twitching eyes. He rose and climbed down the showcase of the room, a cross-linked latter that fed the little alcove with the parlor below.

More obnoxious rapping again, and this time Link swooped to the door and flung it open when three abominable kids spilled over the boards. Talo raised his hand and said, "Hi."

Link smeared his hand against his eyes and was struggling to awaken. "Did you guys really have to wake me up?" he said groggily. "It's like seven in the morning! The sun isn't even out yet!"

Beth, Talo, and Malo exchanged glances when Malo finally gave in. "Hey, it wasn't my idea. I told you not to bother him, but did you listen to me?" Malo said shallowly.

Talo drew his shoulders in. "Well, Beth said she wanted to see his bow! It's not I wanted to wake him up either!"

Beth inhaled sharply and threw a cursory glance at Link before glaring daggers at Talo. "Oh, no! Don't you get me started with that again! I told you that I never wanted to be around weapons. You were the one who suggested the thought in the first place!"

They started bickering and Link slammed the door in their faces, wanting to get some more shuteye. He didn't even bother to see their argumentative glances as they shared them among themselves, so he hunkered down in a hammock next to his fireplace. A pot of bubbling soup brewed beneath the hearth and Link remembered he had it sitting out overnight.

He ran over to the flickering fire and scooped the burning pot up in his arms, but rearranged it in his hands by holding the handles instead. He planked it on a bedside nightstand and considered himself lucky that it didn't boil over like most food items he cooks do.

Wiping off beads of sweat on his forehead, Link breathed a sigh of relief. "Phew, I thought my whole treehouse was going to burn there for a second," he pronounced, soaking his hands in a pail of water before returning to setting a ladle in the crucible. He dried them off in a fireside towel and sloshed it across his back before proceeding to stirring the soup.

After a few minutes of meticulously mixing the bittersweet tomato basil concoction, Link set himself into an oak chair and leaned his head back on the upholstered cushioning. Thoughts swirled through his mind about what happened as of late, especially as to why Midna would want to shatter his almost impervious heart and how such an action could have dramatically consumed him like it did.

Link propelled those introspections as far back as he could but they still despised him and essayed to destroy him at his core. He wanted to be emotionally adept and strong, but what just transpired had shaken him so much that even thinking was quite a paradox in itself.

In refusal to acknowledge what happened, Link tried to refocus his attention on what he planned to accomplish by the end of the day. "I'm fairly certain Fado will want me to help him herd the goats again," he said with falsified mirth, just because he thought the chore was nothing but, and it was mundane, for sure.

A harking at the door. "Yep, should have figured as much," Link retorted, running to open the door for a more adult person. "Might as well eat the soup later."

Fado's sheepish grin bore up at him from the verdant ground below. "Hey, Link! Ready to herd 'em goats today?" he asked with delight.

Link rolled his eyes at the fallacious grammar and ran back inside to change into his farmer's attire. He reemerged from his "hobbit's hole" and joined Fado down at the base of the tree trunk. The gaunt-faced man ruffled his hand through his hair and gave Link a friendly hug.

"Been so long since you've been down 'ere, eh?" he remarked, patting Link on the back after letting him go.

Link shrugged impassively and walked with Fado towards the fenced in goat pasture, but he was unremarkably stopped by many of his old neighbors. Mayor Bo was among the first who accompanied Illia near the village waterfront, but his daughter was not so patient to stand still for long. She sprinted to Link and nearly bowelled him over in a tight embrace.

"Link!" she cried, tears cascading down her face. "You made it home alive like you promised!"

Bo dragged her off of the exhausted Hero. "Illia! Show some manners! You're acting like a little child!" he chastised.

Illia crossed her arms and stormed off. "I'm sorry, Link, she's just been so anxious and all for you to return home, please understand. I apologize for such a terrible entrance, son," Bo stated.

Link waved it off. "No, not a problem, Bo," he quipped, kneading his shoulder with his fist where he felt a sudden twitch in his muscle. "Ouch!"

Bo patted him on the head. "You alright, boy?" Link nodded. "Well, go ahead on, then. Do what you need to and you can tell us about all the details of your adventure later."

Fado lugged the Hero behind him and they rushed past the flurry of residents who gushed out of their houses to greet Link. The claustrophobic Hero finally relaxed when Fado stopped at the ranch. A wave of somersaulting grass did flicks and twirls in the spinning under-draft and tickled Link's nose as it breezed by. He sniffled when a fly flitted up his nostrils and swatted at the annoying pest with his hand.

Barbate goats with brusque whiskers nickered in the distance and some even frolicked down rolling hills like jolly children. The source of their unrestrained excitement? Link couldn't ascertain it, but it was almost adorable, had it not been for the brewing sadness that tugged at the strings of his heart. But he shot it back like every other negative emotion that threatened to resurface during his time on the battlefield.

Fado smacked his shoulder and shoved him forward. "Hey, Link! Why don't ya call Epona, eh? Like ol' times?" he laughed.

Link frowned and whistled into the charm that Illia gave him back when he restored her memory. It dinged a hollow melody and almost reminded Link of the times he shared with Midna, oddly enough, though it was a memento from his best friend, another person he could never love.

But surely enough, a chestnut, bay-coated mare charged up to Link and whinnied in acquiescence. Link bestrode her back and kicked her sides, the horse staunchly following her master's every command. Turbocharged and revitalized with the chill of wind heating the longing for adventure in his blood, Link whooped and hollered at the indigo rams and rallied them all in one centre, the antiquated stables.

He was surprised once again to see the animals align themselves according to status and rank among their own group, and their organizational skills were exemplary. Link cantered back to Fado and the bowel-cheeked man waved a thumbs up at the triumphant Hero.

"That was a grade A job ya did out there!" Fado exclaimed from far away, running to meet up with Link at the fence gate.

Link shrugged. "Meh, the same old stuff I've been doing since Rusl took me in," he retorted, dismounting Epona and tethering her to the mast that served as a buttress for the informational guidepost detailing the location of the setting.

Fado patted him on the back and walked with him away from tight-lipped acreage. "So, whatcha got planned today, uh? Gonna take Mayor Bo's daughter for eh date, nah?"

Link shook his head and tipped his head to the vacuous skies. "No, I think I want to give Zelda a visit," he said with deep contemplation. It was more of an ambage to get away from the truth, but somewhere he felt as if he owed Zelda an apology for his crudeness the day before.

"Ah," Fado uttered tritely, not saying another word. Discomfiting silence encircled them and Link felt a little unsettled that he might have said something wrong and hurtful to his wrangler in charge. The ambulation back to the village was disquieting, especially with how Link couldn't quite defeat the thoughts that penetrated his mind. Had he committed a blunder once again?

No, I'm not going to blame myself for Midna's disappearance… he thought with solemnity. "She didn't leave me because it was my fault…" he muttered, but almost loudly enough for Fado to hear.

"What was that?" Fado stirred, halting as soon as they were in front of Bo's house. "Did you say somethin'?"

Link turned away in encumbrance, shadowing his face with his hand, but pretending to look as if he was blocking out the light. "N-No…not at all…"

Fado clapped him on the back. "Well, okeh. If ya need anythin' just holler, 'aight?" he said mirthfully and left Link there standing in front of an awkward, eerily hushed crowd. At least, there weren't as many mousy faces scrutinizing him as there were when he arrived.

Link just felt out of place in the throng of neighbors. "I'm sorry, guys, but I really have to go," he said discourteously, dodging away from the immunizing gazes of his supposed comrades because they assaulted him so flagrantly that he had to get away.

"Link! Wait!" Rusl cried, but Uli held him back.

"It's no use, sweetheart," Uli interrupted, guarding him with her arms. "I predicted he was going to be somewhat pushy by the time he returned. A hero is never the same when he comes home from something like that."

Rusl tried to ascribe the fault to the anguished man, but he found it no use. "You have a point…I'm sorry, honey," Rusl apologized hooking her arm with his. "I just figured he might want to return to his family before he sets off again."

"Well, he needs to come back to us!" boomed a choleric Illia whose nostrils passionately flared up like a bull. Jaggle, Sera, Pergie, Hanch, Uli, Rusl, Colin, Beth, Talo, and Malo all craned their necks to gape at the boldfaced teenager that blew up at Link like a Deku Nut.

"What? I'm right, you know!" she roared, but Bo stormed out of the house in the backdrop and cuffed her mouth shut. "Mmph!"

He hauled her behind him like useless cargo and she was no longer aggravating people within seconds. "That's quite enough of you, Illia! Give Link some space! He doesn't need you to keep bothering him like a babysitter!"

"Whatever!" the amalgam of residents could hear Illia denounce, writhing about to escape Bo's adamantine grip.

Luckily, Link was precluding the awkwardness that would soon prey on the inhabitants of Ordon Village, that is, if they didn't head back to their homes, which cursorily they did soundlessly. His tomato bouillon was getting frosty, and, soon enough, he wouldn't be able to consume it like he wanted to yesterday. But what good was it to eat and live if his one true love was out of his life forever?

I'm not going to dwell on it. That was his mindframe, his suggestion to his inwardness as he paddled back to the treehouse. "Midna…" the name left his lips like the fragrant wind did past his elfish ears.

And the desolation was once again culminating under the surface because it had an affinity for sunny-blonde, luminescent teal-eyed, lionhearted heroes who were saviors of their country and the entire world…


Disgusted glances perused the line of grubby, ferine prisoners that staked their trail across the half-muddled corridor to the Royalty's Lounge. Hushed whispers and dismal voices resonated like a light pulsation in the air, but the galvanized kept their sketchy faces down, unaware of the crudeness the Council was giving them. Perhaps they were guilt-ridden or at least penitent for what they did, but, alas, their punishment was to resume.

Midna, among all people, was laggardly slouching in her chair and didn't give a crap about the testimonies that were to be heard today. She wanted them all confined like the bastard that stole her throne, but he had deserved much, much worse.

"All rise!" shouted a tin-faced man whose mop of charcoal hair looked like obsidian ash to where Midna was sitting. A pallid robe had gear that stretched across his chest, but he was unarmed from the waist below. The people that he candidly commanded briefly lifted their bottoms and bowed before the sovereign councilor member and then to the Twilight Princess.

"Now you may be seated," the shiny man said docilely. "We would like to present to you today our present ward of prisoners who have been found guilty for homicide, treason, treachery, and suicide. Yes, we do have one suicidal Rais in the House with us tonight."

Midna sighed and rolled her eyes. Old Farvast is going to take forever with this sermon, she chided in her mind. "Get on with it, Farvast."

Farvast held up his hand from the overhanging booth he was in. "Silence! Only the speaking may talk!" he snapped in frivolity. "These men here are to be abhorred for all their days, laughed at and mocked for their shame and mediocrity, scorned for their malefaction, and forever tortured for the agonized whose brethren died as nothing more than a martyr of such crimes. Today, a death sentence will be given to these sickening souls, so may your hopes lie with the goddesses because your will here does not."

Midna leaned back and closed her eyes. Tell me when you're finished, fragt, she cursed.

"Soldiers! Retrieve the Serest!" Farvast called to his impenetrable squadron of monolithic troops, each one uttering an estranged call about the criminals bestowed upon the House today. "Now, off with their heads! And do not stop until all of them are dead!"

The steel-crested knights were like barrel-set monstrosities that only aggrandized as they drew closer to the Councilors and Midna's throne. A gigantic silver broadsword with holes that could used as spyglasses was furnished from another room and hauled over to the median of the room where a sophisticatedly dressed executioner flanked the parquet circles the Councilors were perched on.

The slayer kneeled in front of the only royal person and then accepted the massive weapon from the team of soldiers, proceeding to grip it in his hand. Proportional to his body weight and height, the Serest was hoisted above the ogre-sized man's head for the goddesses in the heavens to see.

Midna pitied these infallible beings and the plaintive Rais that seemed to her as begging for mercy and redemption in his mind. She reminisced how Link couldn't eschew imprisonment, nor could he avoid being rescued at the hands of a capricious, hideous imp like herself. He must have looked on in disparagement at how some crooked-fanged, harrowing, blotch-sided monster could be his liberator and not a beautiful princess like Zelda.

Those thoughts were nothing but fantasized figments of Midna's imagination now, but sometimes she thought about whether or not Link loved Zelda over her. When the Serest was about to meet flesh, the narrow look was broken and Midna's gaze recast over to the pathetic, scrawny garbage that were stiff as an ironing board.

"Execution commence!" Farvast shouted over a pyramid full of people quarreling about who was going to be the first to die at the Serest. An emerald globoid spritzed above the wide-spanned blade and then deluged crystalline particles all over the entire sword. Now the sword was shimmering with vivid malachite sheen that charged it with power and refortified its strengths, extinguishing its weaknesses.

Midna gasped in awe and her eyes were as they would be if a magical spectacle was performed, in which case was done here in her own courtroom. And then the blade came down and scissored the prisoners in half, sinewy meat and innards splashing out like diluted jelly beneath the exorcist's feet. She swallowed her nausea and revulsion, maintaining an aloof expression off to the side, but intending to avert her eyes.

One by one, they were devoured by the omnipotence of the searing hot sword, and Midna's composure was beginning to fail. She rethought her perspective on the blasted souls and hummed a quick prayer to the goddesses that mercy would be bestowed upon all of them. And then she loafed back and dozed off into a somnolent slumber.

It was about fifteen minutes into her enchanted sleep that Elasien scrambled up to her and waved her shoulders around. "Midna! Get up! Come on!"

Elasien was jerking Midna's shoulders and wasn't expecting the circumferential energy that erupted from the princess. It shot her back several dozen feet, but Elasien kept on her toes and scrambled to her feet, pointing an accusing finger at the princess.

"What was that for?" she shouted, voice blaring over the emptying chamber where the Councilors vamoosed from the Royal Lounge.

Midna smiled smugly to herself and folded her arms across her chest. "You were being a nuisance, so I simply extinguished the source," she proclaimed, jutting a finger into her chest.

Elasien stomped off, apparently irascible after Midna's nonchalant vituperation on her morale. Midna snickered pompously to herself and crossed her legs as finally the corpselike people departed and achromatic bodies were swept off the floor.

But her peace was disturbed with a tangential, pockmarked Twili making his ingression into the room. Midna became cross and was not about to let this chatterbox delinquent enter the tails of her courtroom. "Ragilim! What the hell did I tell you? Does one warning not get to your swollen head?"

Ragilim was accompanied by a handsome, marmoreal Twili whose face was angular and was set with cool, chartreuse eyes. His decorative raiment designated him as a foreign visitor, or as someone not even from this kingdom. And it was even more conspicuous his extramural origins with the color of his skin, as he wasn't dappled like many of the Twili but looked more like Midna, who didn't have any of the black and white capped markings like her people.

For a split moment that seemed like an eternity, the ravishing man was arrested by Midna's gaze. Midna broke the contact and shifted to her colloquial speech, denouncing poor Ragilim with a precursive raillery and flinging an orb of magic at the rogue fellow.

"Your Majesty, please. Refrain from throwing such objects at me," Ragilim said. "I would like to introduce you to our newest inhabitant of the Twilight Palace, Lord Rinneaus."

Midna was not going to be fooled by the relatively august man, so appearances weren't going to sway her attitude any. "Leave me at once, Ragilim. I do not wish to take orders from backstabbers in my palace."

Ragilim stood his ground and remained defiant, ready to withstand against anything she had to throw at him. "Please, Princess Midna. This man has urgent news for you that you may like to hear."

Midna tossed her eyes to the side. "I will listen once your stupid mug is out of my private chamber for the rest of the day."

Ragilim sighed in lament. "Alright, but if you have problems with him, then don't come crying to me," he coursed back, leaving the room to only Rinneaus and Midna.

Midna zoomed her eyes all over him, checking him out for any signs of trickery of his sleeve. "So, where do you hail from, Lord Rinneaus? The southern thoroughfare, the eastern slums, the western neighborhood, or the abyss down below? Because I've never seen any Twili with your appearance other than me, assuming you're even a Twili at all."

Rinneaus's lips curled upwards cordially, and he extended a polished hand to the unsophisticated princess. She strangely acknowledged his courteous gesture and suddenly felt a crooked feeling coursing through her body. It was enigmatic, yet…profoundly beautiful, but she couldn't quite couch the emotions that blistered like a whirlwind within her, so she accepted it and moved on.

Rinneaus's grizzled hand left her own and he tucked it into his pocket. "I am not of this world or this realm," he politely answered, his voice luxurious and intoned with a deep vibe that almost sounded to Midna like an accent. In fact, it probably was…

Midna was taken aback by his silky brogue but brought herself back to reality. "Th-Then wh-what…" She cleared her throat. "Ahem! Excuse me. Forgive me for falling out of line, sir. I was just enlightened by your thick inflection, so disregard my previous statement. What world are you from?"

Rinneaus beamed at her cannily. "The one and only kingdom Zethelodd, right next to Wisimich," he replied.

Midna remained blank. "I have no idea where that is, in fact, it's not even here in the Twilight Realm, correct?"

"You are absolutely correct, Madam," he cooed kingly. "Though you may be a bit shocked and frightened, I aware you that the Realm of Light is nothing to be afraid of, my dear princess. That is where I was born and so it is my rightful place to call my old home."

Midna gasped, recollecting all the memories about Link's desires to rejoin both worlds together. "I-I've…I've been to the Light Realm…my lord," she worded surreptitiously.

Rinneaus caught on to it and nodded. "Yes, I have heard," he said, voice flecked with excitement. "You and the Sacred Beast ventured into the Central World and salvaged the princess of that kingdom. Aye, such brave feats indeed for an elegant princess like you."

Midna blushed and turned to the side at the compliment. "Wh-Why…thank you, sir…" she said, flabbergasted at his alluring words.

Rinneaus chortled at her claret cheeks. "It is my honor, young princess," he responded enchantingly. "And I would like to add that you do not have to address me so…formally, so feel welcome to use my regular name to call on me, dear."

Her face still looked like infrared candy, so Rinneaus casually left Midna, but not without a vibrant grin. "I feel that we will see more of each other…again," Rinneaus said one more time. "For now, I bid you goodnight, dear Midna."

I hope he is not trying to swoon me, since that isn't going to work, she figured. I don't play easy to fetch, Mr. Make-A-Move-On-Me-Guy! So good luck to you, fragt! Wait, how did he even get into the Twilight Realm in the first place? I better ask him that next time I see him.

He is kinda cute, though… Midna continued to reflect with a depressed sigh. "Too bad he'll never measure up to Link…" Her eyes were lidded with tears. "Link…please…please don't fall for anyone else…I…I hope to return to you someday…"

She passed out and reclined against the head of the throne chair, having more disillusions of Link ever coming back to her some day…