Ganondorf's Choice and Enel's Compromise (MATURE)

[Enel]

Enel stretched out his muscles. It had taken only a day to recover completely, a natural aspect of his divine physicality. Even here, there were some things that the pretender god had no power to diminish.

Rising from the bed, he did not make a sound as he otherwise might have – calling for food or wine. Seeing him rise, the red-headed handmaiden he’d summoned what might have been only two days ago, or might have been much longer, spoke: “Master! You-”

Enel’s backhand dashed the servant’s face before she could exhale even one more syllable. He crossed to a gold rimmed mirror, hanging above an expensive-looking sink, and inspected himself. A frown crossed his face.

He turned to the red-headed handmaiden, sat on the floor blankly touching her cheek. “Get up,” he said. “Shave me.”

The handmaiden rose from her trance like a machine being switched on and nodded. As she lathered up his face with foam and began to remove the unseemly brown stubble, Enel inspected himself in the mirror. While his body would soon be pristine, his clothes remained tattered and torn, and his bandanna was nowhere in sight. A pile of kingly-looking clothes were neatly folded by the bed, but Enel was no king.

A few minutes and a trickle of omnilium later, he was able to inspect himself to satisfaction.

He turned to the red-headed maiden. “What time is it?” he asked.

“It is night-time, Master. Some time in the early morning. I cannot ascertain exactly when.”

Good enough.

Enel left the room to wander the halls of his castle. It had been pretty easy to take it. Why he had been so hesitant before, he did not know. The fool Ganondorf had neglected to use his full strength in that fight for some reason. Perhaps … perhaps what he’d seen before, that horrendous red-haired beast, had merely been another smaller illusion. Tch … he had to be careful of these tricksy Omniversians. He was still coming to understand the limits and boundaries of this strange, devil fruit-created world. As hasty as he was to put the pretender god in a coffin, he was grudgingly beginning to accept that it might not be as easy as he had first thought it was going to be. Not quite as easy, at least.

But what motivated him now was not long-term goals, but instant gratification. After walking the halls for a while, ruminating, he crossed into one of the maidens he’d summoned – a girl with short, blue hair and matching eyes. He whispered into her ear.

“Where does the one known as Firani sleep?”

* * * * *

The Gerudo did not sleep. She could not, she had not ever since her master Ganondorf had died. She remained awake, stewing over his defeat and the humiliation of the castle having now being taken over by that ignoble cur. It boiled her blood.

She slumped at the balcony, careless of the freezing desert wind.

“Cold night, isn’t it?”

Before she could take a breath, a strangling hand had closed around her throat. She kicked out, taking Enel in the gut, but the man was able to resist and keep his grip tight. He raised her off the ground and then slammed her into it. Still suffocating, she whipped a hand into her belt and withdrew a knife. With one swift motion, she plunged it into Enel’s side, causing the man to stagger back with a scream of pain.

She stumbled to her feet, gasping in air, and lunged for the sword at her bedside.

Enel wreathed her in lightning.

A thousand volts of pain coursed through the Gerudo’s body. Her fingers loosened around the sword’s hilt and a sickening blackness swallowed her.

* * * * *

Firani awoke. She recognised these cells. The dungeons of Ganondorf’s Castle had been designed by the master to hold criminals, dogs, and the undeserving. She knew this as surely as she knew the Master’s mind. Why wasn’t he here now?

Why wasn’t Enel the one hanging by chains?

The man’s filthy grin was all Firani could see in the dim candlelight. Her eyes burned into his as he stepped forward.

“You thought you could get away with your impudence. Do you see now how wrong you were?”

Enel slugged her in the face. Firani spat blood at his feet.

Enel punched her some more.

The man cracked his bloodied knuckles as he surveyed the damage he’d done. His face was one of the vindicated pleasure. This is his true face, thought Firani.

“I am your true god,” he spoke, “The only god. If you repent and confess your sins to me … I may grant you forgiveness.” His sneer held not a hint of compassion nor remorse.

Firani mustered the energy to raise her head and stare him in the eyes. “You’re just a man,” she said.

Enel’s face twisted as though this had not been what he was expecting. It settled on disappointment. “Whatever.”

He raised his hand and the dungeon lit up with sparks.