A/N: Special thanks to *hairyhen* for writing the last 246 words of this chapter (beginning with 'Determined').

Warning: Lemony scene herein.

Chapter 35

A Faith Worth Having

"If drunken revelry was conducive to winning wars, then this army would be one hell of a force to be reckoned with."

He wasn't quite sure who had made that comment, but it made him laugh nonetheless.

With more fires than he was able to count blazing on every side, Pipit swept his female friend into his arms. He smiled, pulling her close. She squealed with excitement. Taking cover behind one of the many tents in the camp, the two fell against one of the sides, bending its pole. Planting a firm kiss on the blonde's neck, he started to wonder if anyone was inside the tent. When the girl grabbed his face and forced his mouth to hers, he promptly forgot his concern.

As soon as Pipit's mouth opened she was in it. He tilted his head and moaned along with her, amazed that someone he'd known for a mere ten minutes could make him so happy. He took hold of her blue soldier's uniform and yanked her by the waist, drawing her against him. The slight young woman wrapped a leg around his calf and grasped his shoulders. With a surprised grunt and a stagger, he realized that she was much stronger than she looked.

The starlight was radiant enough to break through the cloud cover, yet good sense wasn't able to even penetrate the spirit of intoxication that was abundant throughout the camp.

Fully embracing what so many other knights and soldiers were tonight, Pipit grabbed the girl's other leg and lifted her. He grinned as he felt her clamp her thighs around him. With zeal he deepened their already breathtaking kiss, pushing the girl's head against the tent's heavy linen.

Panting, the young woman broke her lips free. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" she asked, blinking slowly and staring at Pipit's mouth.

"Not that I know of," he said quickly before chasing her lips down. The way she tightened around him and yelped stoked his desire.

Squirming in his arms, the girl pulled away to speak. "Come back to my tent with me," she breathed.

The next two minutes were a blur of stumbling and giggling as the two weaved through tents, doing their best to avoid crashing into whatever and whoever was in their path.

"This way," the girl said, laughing so hard she could barely speak.

"Wait…huh?" Pipit asked, in his own blissful little world.

It took several seconds but the girl found one of his hands and took it. "It's the…tenth tent in the fourth row." Together they squinted into the distance.

"You sure?" Pipit asked. "They all look the same. We won't end up in the wrong tent, will we?"

The girl pulled him into a steady walk. "If we walk in on people doing what we're about to do, then we'll know."

With no shortage of tactlessness, Pipit checked out her shapely rear end. "Let's hope not, 'cause I wanna rip this uniform off you as fast as humanly possible."

"I could say the same about you," the girl said, licking her lips and eying his belt.

Laughing about something unrelated, Pipit picked up the pace. "I'd say, 'I'll beat you there', but I have no idea where I'm going."

"The fourth tent in the tenth row."

Pipit's expression turned inquisitive. "You said the tenth tent."

The girl shook her head. "What? I said the fourth."

"No, I mean…" Pipit pointed ahead. "The first time you said the tenth tent."

"I said the fourth."

"The second time you did. The first time you said the tenth."

The young lady scratched her forehead. "What?"

"First time was the tenth, second time was the fourth." The girl gaped at him. "The first time you said it, it was the tenth tenth… I mean tenth tent."

"No, the third time it was the tenth."

Now Pipit was the one gaping. "What?"

"The first time it was the third, and the second time it was the tenth."

"I don't remember anything about a third," Pipit said, pinching the bridge of his nose and thinking hard.

"That's because I said it the fourth time," the girl said.

"Wait…" Pipit stumbled over a pile of abandoned tent poles and barely missed a rather large fire. After recovering, he took the girl's hand and dragged her along. "I'm pretty sure that the first time you said the tenth, the second time you meant the tenth, and the third and fourth times don't exist."

"Yes, they do," she said. "The third time I said the fourth tent, just like the fourth time."

"The fourth row," Pipit said. "You said fourth row and tenth tent." He paused. "Or was it tenth row and fourth tent?"

The girl giggled. "Actually, I think it might be the sixteenth tent in the second row."

Pipit abruptly stopped and held his arm out to prevent the two of them from colliding. The girl bounced off. He quickly turned and grabbed her shoulders, looking down into her green eyes.

"Just shut up," he said before pushing her down and back. In an instant they had disappeared through the flaps of the tent that happened to be next to them. What row it was in was a mystery.

Utilizing his limited cognizance, Pipit noted that the dark tent was empty, other than an uncomfortable-looking makeshift mattress on the right-hand side. With busy mouths and groping hands the two took a graceless fall onto the disorderly pile of blankets.

Only partially aware of his actions, Pipit tried not to be too rough, knowing full well that gentleness had a way of fleeing from him when he was drunk. He had no idea who this girl was beneath him, but that was no reason to act to like a caveman.

Still, he couldn't seem to tame his hands. As soon as he was sure that his touches were gentle he would squeeze something too hard or lean too much of his weight on her. Worst of all, he was too tipsy to judge whether or not she was enjoying it. He was certain that she was displeased when she gave a mighty shove and sent him rolling onto his back. That finding was negated, however, when she straddled him and grabbed his belt.

"Are you ready for this?" she asked with a heavy breath.

Pipit stared at her hands. "What're you gonna do?"

Undoing the buckle, the girl leaned down and whispered, "I'm going to ride you into next week."

Pipit watched her straighten up. He swallowed and nodded. "Carry on, then."

In a flurry they lost their uniforms, tossing each article across the tent as it was loosed. Feeling like he ought to be doing something other than sitting back and allowing a lady to have her way with him, he reminded himself that occasional passivity had its perks.

He quickly found himself being bounced wildly under her forcefulness. "Oh, my goddesses!" he cried.

"Ssshhh," she urged. "What's the matter?"

"You're acting like this is the last chance you'll ever get to do this!" he said, grasping her hips and trying to stop her. "I thought I was foreplay challenged!"

The girl laced her fingers into his and pushed his hands to the bed. "Don't you like this?"

Pipit gaped at the top of the tent for several seconds. "Well, yeah, but…" He shut his eyes and breathed. "Can't you slow down?"

"What for?" the girl asked. "Look at your face. You're loving this."

"Certain parts of me are loving this." He tried to keep his eyes open to look at her. "But this is gonna be over before you—"

"Nonsense," the girl said, going even faster.

Unable to appreciate the spectacle of beauty on top of him the way he normally would, Pipit squeezed his eyes shut. "No, I mean it. My control is…impaired…at this time."

She leaned forward again. Pipit flinched as a few red strands tickled his cheek. "I guess I better hurry up then."

Pipit shook his head. "Why do women always get things backwards? Slow down!"

"Backwards?" the girl asked with a devious grin. "Am I backwards in thinking that this is driving you crazy?" Her next few thrusts made his head roll back.

"Good lords, woman," he said, breathless. All he got in return was a pleased laugh.

"Pipit…"

His eyes popped open. "Did you just say my name?"

"Little early for that, isn't it?" the girl asked, her head down in concentration.

"No, I…" Pipit stared upward. "I swear I just heard it."

"There's a lot of people wandering about. Maybe someone's looking for you."

"Who in the world would be looking for me right now?"

"Pipit…?"

He froze. "There it is again! It's like it's in my head!"

"If you're as drunk as I am then I'm not surprised that you're hearing things," the girl said, her movement as steady as ever.

Pipit grumbled. "I'm not hearing things."

The girl touched two fingers to his lips. "You told me to shut up, and now I'm telling you to do the same."

"Mm, don't get your hopes up," Pipit mumbled under the weight of her fingertips. He turned his eyes to the meager opening in the tent. In a daze, he watched it closely. Every now and then a shadow would pass by.

"That's probably Link," he muttered. "That creeper. He's such a freak but won't admit it." He laughed.

"Link?" the girl asked. "You mean the chosen one? The one who's destined to lead this army to victory?"

"The one and only," Pipit said. "I dunno about leading armies, though. Or victory."

"You know him?"

"If you wanna have a conversation, you really oughta slow down," Pipit said, biting his lip. "You're making it hard for me to concentrate."

"Are you friends?"

Pipit took a few breaths. "Best friends, actually," he said with a little break in his voice.

"Put in a good word for me, will you?" the young lady asked, coming forward and sweeping her lips across Pipit's a few times.

"Uh…I, I—" he stuttered, trying to keep cool.

"Someone's going to have to lead the companies." She caressed the corner of Pipit's mouth with her tongue. "Only those handpicked, am I right?"

"Oh, uh…" Pipit's eyes closed. "What's your name?"

"It's Lilith…"

He looked into the blonde's focused face. "Lilith? Now where have I heard that before?"

The girl's smooth motion came to a stop. "Lilith? Who's Lilith?"

"Uh… You, isn't it?" Pipit placed his hands on her hips, not wanting her to stop. "Didn't you just say that was your name?"

"Um, no," the girl snapped.

Pipit looked at her strangely. "I coulda sworn—"

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" The girl sank her fingers into his hair and ran her eyes hungrily from his forehead to his mouth.

"I believe you did," Pipit said, anticipating her kiss. "So what is your name?"

"Jordan," she said, giving his lips what they'd been waiting for.

Everything slowed down. Locked onto her, Pipit sighed, awed by how wonderfully intimate the moment felt. "That's pretty," he whispered.

"Thank you. Now shut up!"

Jordan's next several thrusts were so vigorous that they were painful. Pipit grabbed her again. "Whoa, slow down."

She tossed his hands away. "No."

Pipit gawked at her. "I said slow down! Better yet, stop!"

Jordan tilted her head insolently. "And what if I don't?"

Pipit looked around. "Huh?" He winced at the sharp feel of his face being claimed in her hand. It was a familiar feeling.

"I said, what if I don't?"

Pleasant sensations down below were an odd contrast to the dread that was growing in Pipit's mind. Something in the young woman's eyes was kindling his unease. "You have to."

"No, I don't," Jordan said.

Pipit couldn't pinpoint it, but something wasn't right. For several moments he stared into the girl's face and ignored the building tension in order to figure out what it was.

Dizzy, Pipit kept losing his focus. He closed his eyes and tried to shake the lightheadedness, but the constant jostling left him woozy.

"You do love this," the girl said. "Listen to you. You're gonna attract the attention of everyone, humans and animals alike, with all that moaning."

"I didn't realize I was…" Pipit tried to rub his forehead but missed.

"Keep going. I like it."

He blinked. "No. I'd rather you stop."

"You're out of your mind."

"Look, normally I like a good dominatrix, but…" Pipit shook his head. "I—"

"Then shut up."

The loving stroke of her finger down his face seized his ability to speak for a time. He shifted beneath her, sensing that the end was imminent.

His eyes seared themselves to hers. Something burned within her irises.

Pipit gasped and writhed, feeling an inexplicable panic on the rise. Jordan reacted by whispering softly into his ear, but it did little to distract from the way that she was pleasing him; if that was indeed what she was doing. He wasn't sure.

"You remind me of someone," Pipit said.

"Who?" Jordan asked. "This Lilith chick who's haunting you?"

"No…"

Jordan chuckled. Pipit didn't like the sound of it. "Who, then?" She curled forward and nibbled his earlobe.

Pipit choked on his words. Sputtering, he did the only thing he could do—look at the roof of the tent.

A finger pressed to his cheek and lured his attention. Figuring he ought to resign himself from the situation and allow her to finish him off, he opened his eyes. What he saw was shocking.

Before him wasn't a beautiful girl's face, but his old instructor's—chiseled chin, defined cheekbones, greying hair and all.

Pipit felt his blood freeze in his veins as hazel-speckled brown eyes bore down on him. A familiar grin made all pleasurable sensation vanish.

"Come for a lesson, Master Pipit?" the man asked in all of his virile gentility. Pipit's eyes couldn't be any larger. "And what would you like to learn today, son?"

"Get off!" Pipit hollered, using every bit of strength to hurl the intruder back. Finally free, he wrapped a blanket around himself and shot to his feet. "Who are you, anyway?" he yelled, nearly falling.

Pipit's glare smoldered with hatred until he realized that the one curling up at his feet was not a burly man of six-foot-six, but a petite, unclad young woman. In silence he watched her sit up, cradling her head.

"Are you insane?" she asked, her voice raspy with anger.

Pipit's eyes darted back-and-forth. "I thought you were—"

"Let me guess: Lydia? Lily? Lisa? Or whatever other make-believe woman you seem to think is beckoning you right now?"

Pipit scratched his head. "I wish. It was way worse than that."

Jordan hissed through her teeth. "You've got problems!"

Pipit threw his blanket into her arms and started collecting his clothes. "I think you may be right."

"I hit my head on the ground," Jordan mumbled.

"Sorry," Pipit said, scrabbling through the darkness.

"I dunno where you get off being so rough."

"Wow. You're really one to talk." Pipit rolled his eyes and jumped into his shorts.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Pipit pulled on his pants and chain mail. "It means I'm not the only one with problems." He slid his tunic over his head and pulled on his knight's cap.

"You've got some nerve," Jordan growled, watching Pipit step into his boots.

"Yeah, well…" Pipit looked her in the face. "Hopefully neither of us will remember any of this tomorrow." He gave a little grin and waved a few fingers. "'Night, now."

Jordan's jaw dropped. "I think you're gonna regret this," she muttered. "And I hope you get confused and tighten that belt around your neck instead."

Pipit burst out of the tent. "Fare thee well to you too, beyotch." He stood up straight, hooked his belt and took a deep breath. He looked around, only half-noticing those around him. He heard several knights and soldiers address him.

"People really need to quit calling my name," he said, shutting out the voices. He walked along a path between tents, trying not to trip over his own feet. "Maybe I really am going crazy."

"I believe you may actually have succeeded in speaking some words of wisdom."

Pipit jerked to a stop, marginally keeping his balance.

"For once." General Sheik's gratified smile complemented his words.

Pipit looked the small uniformed man up and down. "What do you want?"

"Correction," the general said, his grin lessening. "What is it you would like, sir?" Pipit simply stared. Sheik smiled again. "A vague question. There are a lot of things that I want. How could I possibly begin to answer?"

"Why are you here right now?" Pipit asked, determined to keep his heavy eyelids steady in the dim, smoky light. "Why are you stopping me?"

"How did it feel to say something intelligent a moment ago?" the general asked. "Would you like to prolong that feeling by partaking in some more wisdom?" He cocked his head. "Perhaps right now?"

Pipit shifted his feet. "What do you mean?"

"Secrets can really eat you up inside, can't they?" Sheik shrugged a shoulder. "Destructive things." Pipit looked away in thought. "Isn't it funny how we keep secrets to shield ourselves—and perhaps others—but all we're really doing is inflicting harm?"

"So?" Pipit asked.

"So, secrets can really make a doozy of a mess. For one thing, they're rather adept at overturning relationships; they're also quite good at keeping help at bay; not to mention how they impose upon the secret-keeper mental and psychological damage."

"What the hell are you getting at?" Pipit asked.

"Feeling a little, I dunno, crazy tonight?" Sheik brought his hands behind his back and smirked.

Pipit's brow came up. "What—"

"It's not surprising considering what sort of stuff you've got locked away."

"How do you know—"

"Call it intuition," Sheik said, looking down.

"So what're you telling me this for? You trying to help me?"

"You could say that," Sheik said.

"Well, if you're talking about Link—and who else would you be talking about? You're obsessed with him, aren't you?" The general just snickered. "He's already very much aware of my secrets. He knows about my…childhood…" He took a moment to scrutinize Sheik's expression. "And he knows that I like the girl that's basically belonged to him his whole life. Okay? Done. Goodbye, then."

"Wait," Sheik said. "You stretch the truth now just as much as you left it unfinished with your buddy." He shook his head. "He doesn't know the truth, does he? Not by a longshot." Pipit didn't move. "He doesn't know half of what went on between you and that teacher of yours. And you and this little maiden—our dear Zelda…" Sheik's happiness blossomed. "There is something that happened between the two of you that he doesn't know about."

Pipit stepped back.

Sheik came forward. "And it's not just Link that I speak of. Someone else in your life deserves to know the truth. Because you just never know…" He paused. "…When time might run out to tell them." He inched closer and looked directly at his listener. "No matter what the secret is, or how many years it's been kept, it will always come back to bite you." The two studied one another. "And lucky for you, admitting the truth is never as catastrophic as is perceived in our…limited minds."

Pipit looked at his empty hands for a few seconds. "Okay, so what do you suggest I do?"

"Well, you can keep standing guard over this fragile thing known as your pride just as you always have, as well as continue to entertain voices in your head. Or, when the time is right, you can do yourself a huge favor and heed my advice."

"You haven't told me what this advice is," Pipit said, glancing around.

"Well, like I said, when the time is right."

Pipit's hands came up. "Well, I must say, you've been so very helpful. Thank you so much for utterly annihilating three minutes of my life." He offered an indignant solute.

"How unfortunate that we can't all have nothing better to do than saunter around camp, drunk and blissfully unaware of the danger all around us."

Pipit turned around. "Kind of like how we can't all be three feet tall and annoying as hell. But that's the unfairness of life, right?"

"I wouldn't sell yourself short on being annoying as hell," Sheik called after him. "Ask your friend what he really thinks about you."

"Hmm."

"You're more of a target than you think," the general said. Pipit turned an ear. "In a unique position relative to the Goddess's chosen one? Chosen, himself, by the Goddess Incarnate to fulfill a direly vital role?" Pipit's boots scraped the dirt as he stopped. "If you ever start to wonder why every last bit of hellfire seems to be landing right in your lap, just remember." The general chuckled. "Just remember."

"You trying to scare me?" Pipit asked over his shoulder, his ears beginning to heat up.

"Oh, but it's not my job to scare you."

Pipit nodded and started walking.

"Now I have a question for you," the general said. "What would you say is the price of being Link's best friend?"

Pipit slammed his feet to the ground and sighed. "Probably what the price is to be anyone's best friend. Friendship can be costly."

"Mm. Maybe you're not such a moron." Sheik thumbed his chin. "But this friendship isn't like any other, is it? So what do you suppose is the price?"

Aggravated, Pipit turned around. "I don't know. If you're so damn wise, you tell me!"

Sheik crossed his arms. "A very high price." He tapped his foot. Pipit gaped. "The highest price that anyone could possibly pay."

Giving Sheik one last look, Pipit pivoted and strode onward before he had to listen to any more. "Thank you, your idiocy, for your valuable insight. Now I know I'm crazy—for subjecting myself to that much B.S."

After a few minutes of walking, a young couple in the throes of a heated make-out session came up on his right. "That was supposed to be me," he told them. They gave him a curious look. "I sure picked a bad one tonight."

Complaining under his breath, Pipit trod on until the fires were no more. No fires meant no people, which was exactly what he wanted.

Searching for a place to rest, he poked his head into tent after tent. Every one of them provided nothing more than a bare dirt floor. "Somebody needs to furnish these damn things."

Just as he was about to give up and go back, he came upon a suitable tent. On the outskirts of camp, it had a thick mat, blankets, and best of all the sort of seclusion that he was looking for.

He quickly made himself at home by kicking off his shoes and diving beneath the blankets. "I hope Link is getting more action tonight than I am."

He'd barely gotten his hat off when his eyes latched themselves shut. "Maybe tonight's a sign that I don't belong here. Maybe I should just go home." He sighed, feeling himself beginning to drift off. "Or maybe I should just quit talking to myself…"

Cozy and warm, he listened to the sounds of the night, counting the owl hoots and cricket twitters to lull himself to sleep. "Hylia…" He laid the side of his head on the back of his hand and yawned. "You're the mastermind behind this charade known as life, right?" He blinked his eyes open. "I haven't prayed in forever." He paused. "What do you think I should do?"

Nothing but the sound of insects buzzed in his ears. He laughed. "Oh, that's right. Only Link is so fortunate as to have the Goddess speak directly to him. My bad." He rolled onto his side. "Why seek an answer that I'm not gonna find?"

"Pipit…"

Startled, he sat up and gawked into the darkness. "Okay! I take it back! Forgive my blasphemous ways! Please don't strike me down with lightning!"

"Pipit, it's Lilith," the voice called, clearer than before.

Pipit's face scrunched in confusion. "What? How…?"

"Don't you remember me?"

"Gimme a second." He gritted his teeth and put forth his most honest effort. "Lilith… Hot black-haired demon chick." Proud of himself, he smiled. "I'm just bad with names. I could never forget you."

"I need you to do something."

"Hang on… How are you talking to me right now? Are you here?"

"No."

"Then what is this? Is this another one of my episodes?"

"Telepathy isn't something reserved only for full-blooded demons."

"Oh… Um, so what's going on?"

"I need your help."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I've been captured."

Pipit threw his blankets off. "Captured?"

"Yes. Enemy soldiers ambushed my camp in the middle of the night. Only a few of my men escaped. Far too many are dead, and those who are still alive are being tortured for information and executed. My father is seeing to it personally."

Pipit's head pounded. He rubbed it. "Your father? So you're safe?"

"Now that my father knows the truth he considers me to be nothing more than a traitor to the king, and to him. I fear I'll soon suffer the same fate as my men."

Pipit looked himself over. "Well…what do I do?" He climbed to his feet. "Just tell me where to go and I'll go."

"You know where to go." The voice seemed to be fading. "Go back to the gateway between our realms. The one I showed you. Someone will be there to provide you with what you need."

In a mad rush, Pipit tumbled out of the tent. Kneeling, he grabbed his head and whimpered. "I'm dizzy. How am I supposed to help you when I feel like such crap?"

"I think you'll find the air in the demon realm to be quite sobering."

"I hope you're right." He stood up. Against their will, his feet started moving. "How am I supposed to find this place in the dark?"

"Your sense of direction is better than you think. Have faith in yourself."

"Way easier said than done. Do you know who you're talking to?" He laughed at the irony of his own question.

"Please hurry."

Pipit sighed. "I'll try." Rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes, he turned to view the faint glow of the camp as it diminished in the trees. "Not only listening to the voices in my head, but following them. Last time I did this, it didn't turn out so great." He let his head fall back to look at the cloud cover. "I really hope this doesn't involve some tall pale guy with a fetish for Skyloftians."

…..

The only sound in her ears was her own labored breathing.

Sick of her weapon hindering her in the fight against mosquitos, Midna slung it over her shoulder, hopped over a large rock and skipped through a mass of tree roots. Almost catching her foot under one of them, she came to a tottering stop.

She lifted a hand to wipe her forehead. She sighed, feeling weighed down by the thick forest air.

She looked around, finding little more than trees, trees and more trees, lit softly by the moon.

Feeling damp all over, she brushed away the hair that was sticking to her face. She tugged on the sleeves of her tunic and cursed the heavy wool, despite the hungry bugs that would love nothing more than to nibble on unprotected skin; not that they were her biggest annoyance right now.

Her eyes narrowed as anger crept in. No one was here. There was supposed to be someone here, but no one was here.

She began to consider that her initial suspicion had been spot on. Perhaps she had come here for nothing. It was entirely possible that her semi-sleeping mind had played a trick on her—created the voice of the demon lord on its own. Stranger things had been known to happen.

On the other hand, it might not have been her imagination at all. Maybe the demon really was to blame for her being out here; for being eaten alive in the heart of the forest, far from her camp. She wasn't sure how far she'd meandered in the dark following the remnants of the voice that had summoned her, but it must have been at least a mile.

Many minutes of trudging separated her from her companion—the only other knight for miles. With their combined strength they were reasonably safe. Apart, they were vulnerable, as much as she disliked it. Perhaps Link more so than her, considering how trusting he was. The way that he slept with his sword by his side and not in his hand could attest to that. It was imprudent if you asked her.

Taking a ragged breath, she sat down on a rock and rested her chin in her hand. A picture of Link sleeping peacefully came to her.

A smile appeared but quickly faded. The image stayed, bringing with it an unsettling and rather incensing prospect—

Her, deep in the woods, far away from Link who was asleep, unsuspecting and unarmed. Even with his sword by his side, in a deep sleep he was as good as dead if attacked, especially without a second pair of ears to listen for suspicious activity. And he didn't know that he was alone.

Then again, Link wasn't alone. He still had his spirit guide. Midna nodded to herself, confident that he could take care of himself. Maybe.

Besides that, she had bigger problems to deal with at the moment, assuming the demon's voice had been real and that she was the one he was interested in. What had he led her out here for?

If it wasn't her he was after then it was Link. It had to be one of them. Midna knew that, one way or another, the answers were coming.

Trying not to move, she scanned her surroundings. Normally, identifying the presence of another was a cinch. A body's life essence would make itself known to her right away as long as it was close by.

But the forest was strange. Life was so abundant here that a person, even one large and powerful, could probably stand right behind her and pass unnoticed.

She glanced over her shoulder. As she supposed, nothing was there, unless a small lizard climbing a tree counted as something. When she studied it closely to confirm that it was indeed what it appeared to be, she knew she was being paranoid.

Rolling her eyes at herself and her irritating situation, she looked to her left. Not a thing. Already knowing that nothing of consequence was there, she looked to her right.

Nothing, of course. Shaking her head, she peered through the canopy at the sky. What a waste of time.

Not only that, but Link's safety was at stake. These woods were perilous anyway, and now that she had wandered off…

Through with this muggy pit, Midna stood up, adjusted the straps over her shoulder and set her sights on where she'd come from.

What was going to be waiting for her back at camp? She furrowed her brow and flipped her hair out of her way, determined to get there as soon as possible.

Another question nagged her: why had she felt the need to do as this voice had said? Was it because she knew whose voice it was? Maybe she was looking to protect someone? Herself, Link, or both? Perhaps she was just curious, like a child seeking out the source of the disturbing noise in the attic. She made a wry face, not surprised by any of the possibilities.

As soon as her feet started moving they stopped. A chill ran down her back and the hair on her arms stood up.

Someone was definitely here.

She almost grabbed her bow and arrow but refrained. She knew that she was being watched, but she also knew that to ready her weapon was to show hostility.

She glanced at her feet for a moment and took a breath. Closing her eyes, she tried to hone in on where the life energy was originating from. Sensing something directly in front of her, she opened her eyes with a gasp but saw nothing.

Her heart raced as she turned slowly, perusing every inch of forest around her so as not to miss anything.

It was then that she spotted two large eyes above a low-lying tree branch.

Keeping still, she focused, finding that there was much more than just a pair of eyes. There was a face, complete with a shroud of fine white hair and a crooked grin. It rested in a gloved hand, propped up by a leg folded neatly beside another. One pristine boot dangled blithely.

"Well, if it isn't the one who gives the term insubordination its charm," the familiar voice said.

Considering the odd comment, Midna stared. She then turned to face her observer in a proper manner, straightened her posture, lowered her chin and circled her arms behind her back as if to say, 'Whenever you're ready'.

Perched like a bird of prey, the demon waited, swinging his foot some more. Midna kept an eye on it, looking away only to see if his eerie expression had changed any. The smile remained, of course.

Both of his feet met the forest floor with almost no sound. Midna clasped her hands behind her and stayed put.

The red around the demon's shoulders settled as he mimicked her stance. Her mouth opened to share an acidic remark, but discretion held it back.

As if he had expected something different, the demon chuckled and gave a knowing look. Appearing reasonably amused, he moseyed over to Midna, stopping only two feet from her and offering a lofty stare from several inches above.

"Human, demon, goddess or otherwise," Ghirahim said, his voice a smooth addition to the forest's hum, "it simply does not matter." He studied her closely, his eyes seeming pleased. "Women are impossible to understand."

Midna waited quietly.

"Do you know why you're out here?" he asked, receiving no response. "Hm. Well, you will momentarily." He lifted onto his toes for a moment. "Why are women impossible to understand, you ask? An excellent question from a notable young mind." He bit his lip as his gaze landed shamelessly on her chest. "For one, they act in such contradictory ways. How confusing they are. How misleading." The sway of his head revealed the diamond beneath his eye, giving Midna something else to glower at. "Perhaps you can explain something to me: how is it that a woman can worry so much about the welfare of a man who truly is nothing more to her than a pawn?"

Midna's expression hardened. Ghirahim smiled broadly. "A pawn, he says," the demon mocked. "Yes, a pawn, indeed. To you he is simply a game piece. A means to an end. Something to be exploited for your own benefit." He paused. "Isn't that right?"

A wall of cold indifference met the demon head-on. She watched him bend slightly at the waist, obviously tickled. Her lip curled.

"Easy, girl," the demon soothed. His grin made Midna suspect that he was not only enjoying her resentment, but basking in it. "Hear me out before you write me off." He lifted his hands in subtle supplication.

Chewing her tongue, Midna dropped her eyes. Her thumbs twiddled. Thinking, she gazed at the demon's hip, caught by the glint of his red jewel. Her lips parted as she started to wonder, her skin feeling prickly at the sight. She quickly looked the demon in the eye again.

Ghirahim nodded. "Look familiar?" he asked. "Do you know what I had to endure to earn this back?" Her eyes shifted to the side. "I could show you but I don't think you would survive." The demon stayed silent until she looked at him again. "That little display that showed off your abilities in the temple…" He shrugged. "…Is never going to happen again. I think you know quite well that your skill is at a novice's level. It's not strong enough to accomplish anything, and its potency comes and goes. You might have experienced a surge of it that day, but it was a fluke. Why?" He smiled again. "Because you have absolutely no control whatsoever over this power of yours. Hm, what a shame."

Ghirahim moved closer. "Would you like to hear a story?" Midna took a small step back but kept her eyes firmly planted on him. "I think it's story time. Might I suggest you take a seat somewhere comfortable? Underneath one of these trees, perhaps?" He held an arm out. "On a rock? In my lap?" Her sneer was quickly followed by his chuckle. "Come now. What sort of a demon lord would I be to have a woman standing before me for such an inordinate amount of time?" He crossed his arms. "Normally if I summon a woman, she isn't standing for long." Midna eyed his finger as it neared her face. "Especially one so beautiful." Just as it grazed her cheek she recoiled.

The demon laughed. "So feisty, you are. No wonder the hero enjoys playing with you. Want to find out why he likes me so much?" Midna blinked her sizzling eyes a few times. "Not interested in this sort of discussion? Are you ready for that story now?"

Midna failed to notice how tightly her fists were clenched until her fingernails started cutting her palms. She let out her breath, surprised that she hadn't said something remarkably scathing by now. Feeling a cold sweat trying to creep up, she tugged on her tunic.

Leisurely, the demon removed his wrap and stepped to the nearest tree. Leaning on it, his face softened. It did little to help Midna relax.

His smile was so pompous. The way he stroked his chin and examined her every feature made her want to send an arrow between his eyes.

But she knew who she was dealing with. And he evidently had something to say. She'd taken the time to come all the way out here, so why not let him talk?

Ghirahim laughed softly and looked at the ground. "There once was a beautiful young demon girl who lived—oh, but where else?—in the demon realm. The girl had everything one could ever ask for: a caring family, the very best education, the affections of every boy and the envy of every girl, more money than she could ever hope to spend, and a house on the shore of the magnificent Ocean of Chaos with the most perfect view of the Black Mountains from her very own bedroom window."

Midna felt herself grow warm. It was then that she understood. Ghirahim's smirk proved that he'd noticed.

"With striking red hair, this girl, more human than demon, was a rare find," he continued. "The fact that she came from an extremely affluent family didn't exactly help her to keep a low profile. Not that she minded." He twisted the red velvet in his hands. "This lucky little princess's parents owned the most renowned and prosperous horse-breeding business in the entire demon realm. Anyone who was anyone possessed one of these animals—the sleekest and fastest in existence. Where would the king's army be without the blood of these practically royal beasts flowing through its cavalry?"

Her pulse was pounding in her ears but Midna kept a straight face.

"Even more impressive, the girl held a special talent for archery, and at a very young age proved that she would one day be the best of the best. But the most amazing facet of her talent, which only some could recognize and even fewer could understand…" Ghirahim pulled his weight away from the tree. "…Was her potential to master the art of magic."

Having expected to hear this, Midna's fingers coiled behind her. Her hands started to tingle.

"So, powerful and influential from birth and with every possible opportunity at her fingertips, what could possibly go wrong?"

Midna rolled her eyes as the demon let his loaded question hang in the air. He laughed at the sky.

His gaze returned to her, sharp and deadly serious. "Plenty," he said, taking a small step. "Plenty can go wrong. Especially if the girl, at the tender age of thirteen, confides in someone whom she thinks she can trust—her archery instructor—and tells her that she isn't all that interested in becoming a soldier of the king like everyone is hoping." Ghirahim nodded regretfully. "Yes, things can go very wrong. Because I don't think the army approved of the idea of their most sought-after warrior scampering off as soon as she was old enough. What do you think?"

Still fidgeting, Midna rocked her head from one side to the other and waited.

"All right. So what happens when disappointing information such as this gets loose?" Ghirahim slid closer. "Well, here's one potential outcome. This may sound familiar."

He bent forward with a look of concern. "Did you want to use this?" He offered his cape. "You look a little…chilled."

Glaring past him for a moment, Midna shook her head.

The demon giggled. "Very well." He draped it across his shoulders. "What becomes of a wildly productive hive of bees whose flowers are taken? No more honey, right? And what happens to those innocent little larvae?"

Midna lifted her eyes as the demon moved closer. "One very sad day, a mysterious illness struck the horse population on the farm. How devastating. How…unfortunate." He shook his head. "Within a month, every last one of these valued animals was gone, leaving the demoness's family with nothing. How heartbroken they were to have lost everything. So shattered and hopeless were they that they considered leaving the demon realm altogether." His eyes searched hers. "But the risk of being hunted down like the traitors they knew they would become was too great. After all, they had their precious heiress-to-nothing to protect."

Midna bit her tongue again, determined not to mention how close she was to kicking him in the groin and walking away.

"But where fortune has smiled down once, it will likely do so again. How lucky this family was to receive the aid of none other than the army itself, having its now worthless business bought at a more than generous price, restoring at least some of their dignity." His teeth showed themselves as he grinned. "But it was not only useless land and empty buildings that were purchased."

The demon held out his hands. "It was the girl," he said softly. Midna looked down. "They bought the rights to the girl; to direct her where they wanted her to go; to train her however they wanted her to be trained; to place her in whatever position they wished for her to be in; to preserve and develop her skills for themselves; to decide what man she would marry and have children with…" His eye glimmered. "A young man from the most prominent family in the military. A talented fighter in his own right. But most importantly, not fully demon, and therefore able to impregnate, for lack of a better word." He winked. "Over and over and over again, or so everyone hoped."

Midna grimaced.

Ghirahim leaned in. "But the little demoness eventually caught wind of this. And the idea of being controlled didn't sit well with her. So, biding her time—and to make a rather long and unpleasant story short—she did her research, made her calculations and planned her escape. And escape she did to the surface and eventually the sky, like so many other traitors." Ghirahim gave her a shameful look. "Leaving behind every one of her obligations, both legal and moral. Poor little princess. She let so many people down. In fact, every one of her family members now suffers eternal torment because of her selfishness. She bears a heavy burden. It makes you wonder how she even sleeps at night."

Ghirahim moved close enough for her to smell him. It wasn't a disagreeable smell. He simply smelled of a place she hadn't seen in a very long time. "And now we circle back to how women are impossible to understand. Strangely, you seem to care about the hero's safety, yet you only care about yourself. Oh, but wait…" He took a quick look at her legs. "Let's not forget that if he is well he can free you from what's kept you bound for ten years. A marriage to another man would break this obligation that's been haunting you. That's why you planted the idea of marriage in the hero's head shortly after meeting him. But if marriage is all you need, then why not simply marry anyone?"

Midna stared at the ground.

"Well, the marriage needs to survive, for one thing. At least for a while. If it doesn't then you are legally bound once more. Unless of course you can eradicate those who pursue you. Oh, but wait. There's more."

Midna shrank back at his sensual tone.

"Even if you are freed, your family isn't. And you need someone exceptional to rescue them. Someone who won't fail you. Someone who will complete the task in one go. Because you know that a failed rescue attempt is a final rescue attempt. And who better than the sky realm's best fighter to do the job? He's strong yet naïve enough to believe that you won't dump him as soon as you get everything that you want."

The demon snickered as he ran a finger under Midna's hair. She flinched. "Well played, my little rose," he said quietly. "But the story doesn't end there."

Repulsed, she wanted to fly out of her skin, but kept still.

"You're in danger of being tracked down and taken back to the demon realm. You have been ever since you left, and that's not going to change. Wouldn't it be an enormous relief for this perpetual worry to disappear?" He laid a hand on her shoulder. "I can make that happen." Trying to keep her eyes from flaring, she watched his hand. "Come with me. Not only will I exonerate you from your due punishment, but I will free your entire family." Midna looked into his eyes. "Not only that, but the hero will be protected from the truth about you. You can vanish without a trace. Much easier for him that way; and you can save face. Plus, I foresee a less hazardous life for him if you choose this path."

"And if I don't?" Midna asked.

"I will be sure to tell him everything. He'll despise you, you know. As he should. I also will not rest until his body, soul and mind belong to me." He squeezed down. "So, you can either choose to win, or to lose. Choose to save yourself and him, or seal your doom and hand him over to me."

Midna yanked her shoulder away. "I think you just want revenge against me for what happened in the temple. I think you're willing to say anything to get me and Link to believe your lies. You just want to manipulate us." The demon lifted a brow. "And you give yourself way too much credit. You aren't going to destroy him, or convince him to hate me. I am going to tell him everything, and he will be fine."

Ghirahim folded his arms and smiled. "I have some competition, do I?"

"You've known that from the start." She listened to the demon's bothersome laugh some more.

"How ironic," he said. "You call me a manipulator, but aren't you really talking about yourself? I have conjured nothing. I've spoken the truth, as is confirmed by the way your pretty little face turned as red as your hair during that tale."

"Why don't you just kill us both?" Midna asked, her chest tightening. "Wouldn't it be easier for you to eliminate us rather than work around us?"

Ghirahim gave a fleeting look of thought. "I would, but you see, I'm not that impatient." He craned his neck gently to follow the deep curve from her waist to her hip. "And who am I to deny myself a bit of fun? Besides, there is much more in the works than you realize."

"I'm not going with you," Midna said.

"Even if it means his security?"

She bit her lip, knowing her aggression was showing. But she'd had her fill of being analyzed and dissected.

"Hm. Every woman needs to be shown her place; even you. The trouble with the hero is that he doesn't know how to do this. You need someone who does."

"Someone like you?" Midna asked, savoring the image of the demon bleeding and twisting on the ground with an arrow piercing his chest.

"Exactly. I can also help you reach your full potential. In every way. Not just with magic use and fighting skill. As I've said, would you like me to demonstrate why the hero desires me so much?"

"I'm leaving," Midna stated, moving back.

"He enjoys it immensely. I'm certain you would to." Ghirahim tapped his fingers together. "Who knows? You might gain something special; enhance your magical abilities. Have some faith. I've heard that my kiss holds a certain power."

With a look of pure hatred dying to be made known, Midna sidestepped past him and headed for the trees.

"You two sure are cute when you're smashed together and rolling in the dirt," the demon said with a snigger. Midna peeked behind her. "It must be frustrating that he can't seem to let go and tear into you like you want. You need a real man, my dear."

Scoffing, Midna turned back around and marched on.

"Why would a person want to free the family that sold her out, I wonder? One would think that she would feel too betrayed. Or at the very least would be battling a serious case of vindictiveness. Grudges will destroy you."

Midna did her best to ignore him.

"Your betrothed still pines for you," the demon called. Midna stopped again. "Don't think that he's forgotten what is rightfully his." Ghirahim turned and stared after her. "Better watch out. A fiancé scorned is an ugly thing." Thinking, Midna didn't move. "You are a wanted woman; sought after by many. It would be wise to invest in the help of one who has true authority."

Midna dragged her thumb underneath the leather over her shoulder. "I'm already doing that," she said loudly. She stepped into the brush, sighing as soon as she was out of sight of the demon. "Though not for the reasons you say."

Determined to put as much distance between them as possible, Midna strode away through the undergrowth. But after a few moments she paused and looked back over her shoulder as though expecting the demon to pop up again. She shivered in agitation and discomfort, unable to stop thinking about what he'd said.

She huffed, sheer obstinacy allowing her to clamp down on the pall of fear that had been threatening to overtake her. A contemptuous sneer crossed her face. If that jumped-up lunatic thought he could intimidate her into doing what he wanted, he was very much mistaken.

Still, it was impossible to deny that he'd rattled her far more than she was willing to admit. Though she'd tried so hard to outrun it, it seemed that the truth was catching up with her. If she wanted to make things right, she was going to have to play by his rules. At least for now. Later, when she'd had time to think her way out of this, things would be different …and then he would be sorry.

But right now she had to think of someone other than herself. Taking a deep breath, Midna started back towards camp, where even now Link was sleeping, still unaware of what he'd allowed himself to be dragged into. One way or another, things between them were going to change, and she could only hope that they wouldn't turn out as badly as the demon had proclaimed.