The Fractured Holder [Pokémon/LoZ Crossover]

00| Reversion

Daemos stepped out onto the balcony where he was instantly awash in the light of the half-moon. The cat jumped up on the curved railing, gazing at Daemos expectedly. He gently scratched the side of the feline's face. She leaned into his hand, purrs of appreciation leaving her. He gave her a small pat on the head and went back to admiring the natural scenery. This had to be his second favorite place in the castle, if merely for the view it gave him. He could see Hyrule Castle City from the balcony.

The usually bustling streets were now silent, save for the occasional patrolling guard or wandering nocturnal Pokémon. The former were there for the citizens' sake, to keep watch for any potential danger. Daemos couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to them that he could prevent. But unfortunately, many of the citizens didn't see it his way.

A westbound breeze swept across the balcony, fluttering Daemos' cloak and lifting his strawberry-blonde hair. Like his ancestors, minus Queen Naboora, Daemos was part-Hylian, evidenced by his lighter hair, skin color, and faded blue, almost silvery eyes. He was neither full Hylian, nor full Gerudo, and his subjects both knew and were vocal about it.

For almost two-hundred years—Daemos' eighth year ruling would bring the number to an even amount—the Gerudo had been leading Hyrule Kingdom, and for almost two-hundred years they'd been pining for something they deemed more important than power.

Respect.

Since millennia past, the Gerudo were seen as two things: intimidating, and more importantly, untrustworthy. A history of thievery and swindling was one that could be mended with fair actions, granted it would take many years, but it could be done. It went further than that, however.

Daemos frowned, his hands clenching. It was all because of the Gerudo's involvement with an ancient feud that dealt with divine magic. To Daemos, it was a horrific curse placed upon his people. It always seemed like a Gerudo was dealt the rotten hand, and that Gerudo was more than happy to sample and twist the divinity they held for their own selfish desires.

A despairing anger began to well in Daemos. It always came back to the Holders, to that damned Triforce! Courage and Wisdom were forever pitted against Power, and of course the other two parties involved were always Hylians, the race that took the biggest issue with the Gerudo. Why were they destined to play the villain? What did they do to deserve this?

   Another breeze stirred the air, still from the west. "Don't believe what the gossip-mongers say, sweet Daemos. Winds from the west bring good luck, not misfortune. They don't carry the whisper of a storm or snow. They bring warmth, and they remind us of our origins."

Daemos recalled his mother's words, the memory of her silky voice briefly quelling the turmoil that had a hold on his emotions. He had promised her that his reign would be the one that really turned things around. He would do something that would finally convince his subjects that the Gerudo needed to be respected, not mocked. But nothing had so far worked.

He tried, he tried so desperately. Allowing all races to work in the castle merely drove them away except for a select brave few. The reduction of patrolling guards and soldiers let crime spike. And his most regretted attempt, the time he foolishly required that the guards and soldiers carry lighter weapons to appear less intimidating. That had resulted in over a half dozen innocent souls being slaughtered in less than a week. It made Daemos feel ill remembering that.

Daemos knew not all Hylians were like this, nor that all Gerudo supported him, but the negatives seemed to far outweigh the positives in both cases. He was at his wits' end. He gave them an inch, and the extremists took a mile while the rest regarded him and the other Gerudo with icy stares and gossip whispered in alleys and behind closed doors.