Shatter and Strain (Link x Ganondorf)

Valor and Reign

Author's note:  Because this is based off of a series of songs I have written in Flat.io, I have changed the names to make it original.  I hope you enjoy, if you find any errors, PLEASE let me know.  Although this work is satire, it is still a serious project for my music career.  Link to my music profile is in my bio.

The hero grips his steel sword, his cerulean eyes glowing with anticipation, his hands tremble while he takes hesitant steps to the silver throne.  Perched upon the seat, his legs crossed, a broad figure framed by a mane more crimson than the desert sunset. 

A sneer erupts from the king, amused by the hero's presence.  The hero brushes his blonde hair from his eyes, his hand lightly scraping scruff that he rarely keeps up shaving.  Valor, a man sworn to protect his land, free from the shackles of dramatic irony, pleads to his sworn enemy.

"Put down that golden crown," Valor speaks to the tyrant, "let's turn these olden roles around."

Reign raises an eyebrow, his eyes as gold as the jewelry he wore from head to shoulder.  He tilts his head with an amused smirk, "rest that old rusty sword," he lifts his headpiece, locks of flames sliding down to his ears as he sets the crown down at the arm of his seat, "I'll set aside my golden crown adorned."

Valor grinned, a hopeful flicker in his eyes before he is interrupted by a cold growl.  Despite his agreement, Reign is hesitant.

"Kneeling you should be. Your bravery ridicules me. For your mockery, I say, I'm not pleased."  Reign rose from his throne, which has turned a glorious scarlet as it reflects his long mane.

The cold mosaic floor quakes in fear the closer Reign steps to the blonde hero, and the skies hold their breath as Valor approaches the tyrant.  Valor extends his gloved hand, his fingertips exposed and calloused.  The swordsman's palm was met by a massive and formidable hand, and their fingers intertwined. 

The king held a stoic expression when he rests his free hand on Valor's shoulder.  The hero's breath catches in his throat and his chest feels as if it is clenched by a claw from the inside as he returns the hold, Valor's hands tiny compared to Reign's waist. 

Valor steps forward, Reign, unsure of Valor's intentions, staggers back. Their steps clumsy and unsure, they held on to each other.

They take another step, this time to the side, the only music being their hearts pounding in their chest in unison.  Awkwardness and an unusual fear crosses Reign's face while Valor forces a reassuring smile.   The hero clears his throat, understanding that this unorthodox scene is the only way to speak to the king.  The royal is not much of a speaker, but the swordsman knew if he intrigues Reign, he can distract him long enough to listen. 

Valor sighs, whispering cryptic words to keep the vile man in front of him piqued with interest, "you and I not meant to ever be."

Reign smirks.

The hero continues, "incomprehensibility: this world feels, yet we dance gracefully.  So please, shall we erase our ancient, old legends of rivalry?"

Reign playing along with Valor's vague statement, shares an unspoken understanding between only the two enemies, "shall we destroy and break our tales of our old hate?"

Their grip tightens as they dance, their words synchronized, "Indistinguishability: we're different sides of the same coin."

Reign, finally caught up with the rhythm, takes the lead of the dance as Valor continues, "your gilded crown and my blade set down.  Indefatigability, our fighting, our curse, never ending."

The king's lips curl from a smirk to a genuine grin at what Valor has mentioned, he exhales, a slight shake to his voice, "in his hands I'm forced to comply."

Valor and Reign's voices are reduced to an unusual plea.

Valor begs, as if it were to the gods: "Forced to comply and forced to serve fortuity, irreconcilability: we are doomed to kill."

Reign sighs, speaking at the same time as Valor pleads:  "Humanity, I lose gradually.  Never man, never born with free will: we are doomed to kill."

The two lean in, as if their barriers of incompatibility are shattered.  Their foreheads touch.  Warmth washes over their body as their anxieties evaporate.  Their waltz slows to a halt. Their hands are still in position, and they sway slowly, their feet no longer gliding across the dance floor. 

Valor closed his eyes, taking in the moment of embracing the very man he loathes.  He can feel the tyrant's breath against his cheek, he leans in further and tilts his head, the hero's nose gently prodding against Reign's cheekbone.  His heart races as he realizes he is sharing the same air as his sworn enemy. However, a faint feeling tugs at his arms, he recognizes this urge, his shoulders tense in horror, he knows exactly what the strings are telling him to do.

No...

He releases Reign's side and reaches for his blade.

A bitter coldness enters the monarch's ribcage uninvited, and a warmth trickles down his stomach.  Reign lets out a short grunt and a sharp exhale, he clenches the hero's shoulder, and his eyes widen.  

The monarch steadily pulls his head back as he peers down at the pool of blood dripping beneath him, splattering across the intricate pieces of terracotta that once were blessed by light steps.  His eyebrows furrow, the familiar abhorrence fills his brilliant irises.  He shoves the blonde off of him with incredible force, causing the hero to stagger back.

Valor's eyes widened in terror, not only from his actions, but as he watches an alarming sequence unfold as Reign's hand grips the hilt of the blade still plunged into him and remove it.