Betrayal By Moonlight

By: Firefury Amahira

Author's Note:

MINOR SPOILER ALERT: Contains vague references to events in the desert. If you are trying to avoid any and all story spoilers, don't read this until you've been through the desert! Also, the Author notes at the end will contain slightly more spoilers, just as a heads-up.

Usual disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda. That copyright sits squarely with Nintendo. No money is being made from this fan-written derivative work.

Today was a good day.

Granted, for Leznard, most days were good. His band of Lizalfos had set up their raiding camp in a prime location on the river. The hunting was good, with the group feasting on fish and wild game most days. It wasn't very far from one of the roads winding across the landscape, and they were easily able to ambush most travelers who dared the route, yielding more exotic foodstuffs as well as useful supplies such as arrows and weapons. They'd taken an entire trade caravan a few days ago, and his underlings were still groggy from feasting and gorging themselves on the bounty.

Leznard had more restraint and hadn't overstuffed himself, but then he was special. Stronger than his underlings, faster, smarter. Superior. He'd been the only survivor from his clutch, his siblings slain when one of the pink Scaleless had found the nest. Now he was the hunter, the dreaded. Silver, that was the word the Scaleless called him in fear. He didn't know their language, but the sounds were pleasing to his hearing, that hissy noise tapering into some sort of rolling purr.

To his companions, Leznard was known in different terms. Touched by Calamity, blessed by the Dark Lord, marked by the deep purple markings slashing across his unnaturally pale metallic scales. He wasn't entirely sure what exactly it meant beyond being simply better at everything than the other Lizalfos he encountered, but that was okay. He supposed it had to do with that presence he felt any time he looked at the castle visible in the distance, a dark aura similar to his own markings visible surrounding it. The old heap of stone used to belong to the Scaleless, but that was long ago. Scaleless avoided the place now, he had been told by other marauding bands his group had encountered. Not just the Scaleless either; the Birds, the Fishes, and even the Rocks all avoided the place.

There was one problem though, one dark spot on Leznard's otherwise enjoyable lifestyle. Yes, he was superior in all ways to his companions; but that also meant he was lonely, lacking an equal that could match him. The Greens that often served as scouts and lookouts had the attention spans of lizards, easily distracted and almost impossible to have a conversation with. The two Blues in his band had fallen to the Scaleless when they took that caravan. The Blacks... well, he could have a halfway decent conversation with them, but even they were still well beneath his level. He'd only seen one other Lizalfos marked like he was, leading a roving band of raiders. The two had quarreled before Leznard's band forcibly chased the smaller group off.

Plus, he was a Lizalfos full grown. He was successful, he had a secure supply of food, water, and plunder. He was well ready to take a mate and have a clutch of his own. Leznard often dreamed of hatchlings, an entire brood marked as special, same as he was. Oh, how the Scaleless would tremble before his raiders then! If just the sight of him was enough to make them shiver with fear, the thought of their reaction to an entire raiding group of silver was enough to make Leznard flick his tongue about in eager anticipation of that distant day.

Of course, the one problem with that was he needed to find a lady Lizalfos that could match him, someone special like he was. Sure, he could mate a Black, and he'd seen a Firebreather that had been appealing once, but then his brood would be mixed. Maybe none of his hatchlings would be Touched as he was. Leznard needed to find a female Touched, a female silver if he wanted to be sure his hatchlings would be the very best. Unfortunately, he had never seen one, and didn't even know if one possibly existed.

A commotion down near the river caught his attention. A few of his underlings had been bathing lazily under the moonlit sky earlier in the evening. Leznard grabbed his weapon of choice, a fancy gilded blade he'd taken from the caravan leader and scurried to see what was going on. Probably some stupid bickering among his underlings over some particularly tasty fish or piece of the loot. Such infighting happened often enough, even among the Blacks in his group, who really should have known better. There was always the possibility of other raiders, or even a group of Scaleless hunters trying to take the camp unawares.

Leznard came barreling around one side of the camp's stone shelter, hissing a warning, and very nearly tripped over his own feet when he skidded to a halt. There was no sign of his underlings by the riverside, maybe they'd slunk off to bed. But there was an intruder, unlike any he'd ever seen.

The intruder's head bobbed, looking warily at Leznard. It took him a moment to recognize the newcomer for another Lizalfos, and a tiny one at that. At first he thought it must be some stray hatchling, too young to be out alone, but that didn't seem right. No hatchling moved with that steady confidence, and no hatchling carried weapons of such high quality. The tiny newcomer's tail must have been hacked off at some point, the realization making Leznard coil his own tail tight imagining something so awful!

"Who are you?" Leznard demanded of the strange intruder.

The newcomer mumbled a garbled reply. Had this strange Lizalfos come from somewhere so far away that it had an incomprehensible accent? Leznard repeated his demand, this time more slowly. The second reply was just as garbled as the first, but the stranger didn't seem to be hostile, having not drawn any of its weapons. The newcomer stood steady as Leznard circled around warily, sniffing at the intruder. The intruder absolutely stank of the Scaleless, which baffled him. Had this little one been in a fight? To reek so badly of them, there must have been several, and yet this newcomer appeared unharmed save for the hacked-off tail, but that must have been an old injury since the newcomer seemed to have no trouble balancing despite the lack. Could such a tiny, and already maimed Lizalfos have actually beaten that many Scaleless alone? There was no scent to indicate that the stranger had been traveling with any other Lizalfos, not that he could smell past the stink.

A closer look at the intruder's build had Leznard fairly certain that this one was a female. A female, and colored unlike any Lizalfos he had ever seen. The murky green scales of her head gave way to a scattering of yellow down her neck, her body shaded a bright blue even in the pale moonlight, thinly slashed in an appealing geometric pattern with pale white. She must have come along the river, because her legs appears to be caked thick with river muck, indistinct in the thin light.

A female Lizalfos. With strange coloring. Who was apparently clever enough and strong enough despite her small build to take on a large group of Scaleless, and come through it unscathed. Leznard almost dared to hope.

"Are you..." He couldn't help but trill hopefully as he dared voice the question. "-one of the Touched?"

That query was met with another garbled reply, but Leznard was near-certain that there had been a "yes" in there.

"Silver?" The stranger sounded uncertain, gesturing at Leznard's bright scales.

She knew that Scaleless word! Maybe she had understood him, just her accent was too thick for him to easily understand her. He could learn in time, though, he was certain of it. Leznard couldn't help but trill with delight, hopping around in a momentary burst of excitement. The Dark Lord had seen fit to send him the lady Lizalfos of his dreams!

"Follow me, let's sit by the fire." Leznard purred eagerly, motioning for her to follow him back into the camp.

I wonder what her name is. I think I'll call her Linzy. She looks like a Linzy. Those lizard-brained idiots had better have left some of the seasoned fish! Linzy is probably hungry after fighting so many Scaleless!

Leznard scurried back toward the campfire, trying to restrain his excitement when he heard Linzy's footsteps following behind him. Without her tail, she had a unique gait, her steps steady and methodical compared to the frantic scurry most Lizalfos used when walking around. Everyone else back at camp was soundly snoring, even the two Greens that were supposed to be keeping watch. He'd berate them in the morning, Leznard decided. It was just another sign that fate was working in his favor.

A quick glance over one shoulder showed his darling Linzy stretching leisurely as she followed him. Leznard reached the central campfire, relieved to find that his underlings hadn't devoured all of the food. He beckoned again to Linzy, eager to begin courting her.

"Are you hungry? Come here, you can have the best bits!" Leznard trilled happily, before turning his attention to the fish, looking for the prime pieces to offer to Linzy.

He was so focused on that task that he didn't realize Linzy had stolen right up behind him. The crackling of the fire masked the silky scrape of a sword being readied. Leznard was so wrapped up in his daydreams about what the future held for he and his precious foreign Linzy that he was completely oblivious. By the time he realized he was being attacked, it was already too late.

Linzy's blade struck with deadly precision, a single, perfect, killing blow. Leznard didn't have a chance to cry out and sound the alarm as he keeled over. Before his world went dark, he got one last good look upward at his precious Linzy's face. With horror, he realized the terrible truth in the final seconds before he expired.

Looking up at his dearest Linzy, it was obvious. She was no Lizalfos, no Touched, no silver! Beneath the green Lizalfos muzzle was the face of a Scaleless! He had been fooled and slain by a single Scaleless wearing nothing more than some sort of mask!

With the leader of the monster camp silently dispatched, Link sighed with relief, before stealthily moving through the camp to take care of the rest of the Lizalfos. Fighting the silver monsters was usually a huge headache, so the opportunity to take the beast down by surprise was a welcome reprieve. He'd gotten the absurd mask on a lark, thinking that maybe one of the children in Kakariko might find the goofy plush mask a delightful plaything. On a whim, he'd tried approaching a green Lizalfos while wearing it, and been astonished that the silly thing had somehow fooled the monster completely. Incredulously, he tried it again with other Lizalfos, and to his amazement, the ruse worked with them as well. It had even fooled that silver one into welcoming him right into the camp and turning its back to him long enough to successfully pull off that sneak attack!

Still... the Goddess' Champion couldn't quite shake the creepy feeling he'd felt as the monster had babbled nonsense at him. It was the same uncomfortable vibe he got whenever he had to talk to men while dressed in the vai clothing he'd needed in the desert...

Author's Note:

So... THAT happened. I had this goofy plot bunny gnawing at me for three or four days before I finally decided to sit down and write the silly thing. All I can say is that this is the result of the "why do ALL the guys hit on Link when he's dressed in his first set of desert clothing?!" train of thought somehow colliding with the "I can't believe that the monsters actually are fooled by Kilton's monster masks" train of thought and the "Lizalfos when you're wearing the Lizalfos mask are almost adorable in their behavior" train of thought.

The result of that collision? "A Lizalfos mistakes Link wearing the Lizalfos mask not just for another Lizalfos, but for a female one and tries to flirt with him."

I am not sorry. :P