(Zelink) The Legend of Zelda and the Last knight- Swords and Roses

Why we failed pt. 35 Embers of Defiance

Chapter

Why we failed pt. 35

Embers of Defiance

At first, she counted the hours.

Then the passing trees and the endless rolling leagues beneath her borrowed mount's hooves. They all blurred together into a numb monotony. Zelda's wrists ached from the rope that bound her hands together, coarse hemp biting mercilessly into soft skin. Every jolt of the horse was another cruel reminder of her helplessness. Yet she kept her chin raised defiantly, determined not to crumble, not here, before the silent, watchful men surrounding her.

She recognized the horses beneath them. They were destriers, proud and fine—steeds she'd admired just days before in Silverrupee Square, oblivious then to how their swift hooves would soon carry her away. How cruel, she thought, that the creatures intended for celebration would now ferry her to an uncertain fate.

Her festival gown, once pristine ivory threaded delicately with veins of gold, now clung miserably to her skin—a filthy, sweat-soaked ruin. Each breath of the humid, stifling air felt like inhaling steam from a pot of boiled cabbage, sour and choking. The oppressive heat gathered beneath the dense canopy of the nearby forest, just out of reach, offering no reprieve. Unable to save her and her new companions from the stagnant heat and scorch of the sun.

All that dense woodland seemed to have offered was thick and humid air to them, causing droplets of perspiration to trickle down her spine, leaving trails through grime and bruises alike.

Zelda's parched throat yearned for water, her tongue dry and heavy as leather. Each swallow tasted of copper and desperation.

No one spoke to her. Not one word. At least not for the last several hours.

Earlier, she'd refused to let their silence prevail, her voice breaking the tense quiet. "Please," she had pleaded, at first with dignity, later dissolving into desperation. "Just tell me—what do you intend with me? With that Ark—my mother's crown and remains? Have you no shame?"

First, her questions had been met first with laughter—dark amusement, callous chuckles that pierced her pride. "Why are you doing this!?" she continued to demand, more forceful.

"Shame?" a thin, wiry man sneered, turning his head slightly, red eyes glinting with contempt. "You speak of shame to us? Your whole lineage is a mockery." The others chuckled roughly in agreement. "Goddess blood indeed," he snorted dismissively.

Another spat at the ground, eyes blazing with open hatred. "Maybe we should teach her a lesson, boss. In manners to keep her mouth shut to her betters? Little princess squeaks like a field mouse caught under a boot."

Sasuke, their grim-faced leader, had initially ignored her, jaw clenched in rigid patience. But when her pleas grew into demanding shouts, disrupting his careful thoughts, his tolerance shattered. He had given a single, sharp nod to the brute riding beside her—a man with hands like clubs and breath sour enough to wilt flowers.

"Shut her up," Sasuke ordered, voice dangerously calm. "I can't think straight with her incessant whining."

Without hesitation, the brute leaned across his saddle, delivering a backhanded blow swift and merciless, nearly toppling Zelda from her horse. Pain exploded across her cheekbone, white-hot and searing. Her vision blurred, stars dancing across her eyes as blood welled warmly from her split lip, mingling bitterly with spit in her mouth.

It was the first time she'd ever tasted her own blood—warm, metallic, revolting. Yet beneath it, she felt a darker, far more bitter flavor: humiliation.