LoZ: The Reflection Behind the Door Chapter 4 (Patreon)

Written by: Undertaker33

Artwork by: Better-With-Salt

https://www.patreon.com/bws

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Captain Vesmas turned smartly round the corner of the inner castle. He marched down the length of the hall with a purpose and came upon the guarded door. The golden armor of the royal guard glimmered in the soft candlelight, a comforting reminder of normality over the oddity of the station. The man at the door, who Vesmas did not recognize, looked tired. Yet he still held himself proudly, his spear unsheathed and ready.

“Report,” Vesmas ordered.

The guard’s eyes scanned Vesmas’s uniform, settling on his Captains badge. “She’s in here, sir. It’s gotten quiet now, I think she might be asleep finally.”

Vesmas grunted. “The room’s secure?”

The other guard nodded. “No other doors or windows. We put her in here after what happened, but set up some decoy rooms along the exterior and have guards manning the roof.”

The Captain sighed. “I doubt they’ll find anything. Is she alright?”

“She’s… angry.” He hesitated, before nodding at the door. “Captain Zorran put her down here after the attack. Told her to get some sleep and they’d round up the boy in the morning.” He grimaced, “I thought she was going to burn him alive.”

“What happened?” Vesmas asked. “Zorran mentioned a mask and an unknown assailant using magic to access her room.”

In reply, the man shook his head. “Something about a kid wearing some mask. I don’t know. It’s all above my paygrade, Sir. She put orders out for the city guard to find some purple mask, I guess that’s why you’re here.”

Vesmas nodded. “What’s she been doing?”

The guard opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by an odd noise that began to emanate from the castle corridor. Vesmas turned to face the building sounds, motioning for silence before putting his hand upon the hilt of his blade.

“Hup! Hup! Hup! Hup! Hup! Hup!”

“It’s coming from the stairwell,” Vesmas said.

“Oh, no,” the guard groaned, putting his face into his gauntlet. “She’s been quiet for so long, they’re gonna wake her up.”

“Hup! Hup! Hup! Hup! Hup! Hup!”

“Who?” Vesmas asked.

From down the hall, a pair of Hylians wearing white cloth uniforms came thumping down the stone stairs. Between them, they carried a gurney that was laden with a veritable feast. Ham that glistened, fresh with honey. Numerous vegetable dishes that still steamed in heat. A bowl of white fluffy frosting topping an immaculate but bare cake, which sat next to another glass filled simply with marshmallow fluff.

Vesmas raised a hand to the pair, but they came down the hallway unabated. With each step they took came a synchronized “Hup!” until they came to the door of Princess Zelda’s room.

“Mire and Cash, reporting with food as ordered!” the front man shouted, falling into heavy panting.

Vesmas hissed. “Keep it down, the Princess could be asle-”

He was interrupted by the sudden outward slamming of the wooden door. It impacted upon the royal guardsman, who caught it in outstretched arms. Vesmas spun and gaped as the guard pushed back against the door to no avail before stepping to the side and letting it fly. It slammed hard enough into the stone wall to leave a crack which splintered towards the top.

Vesmas starred into the black void that was inside. He could see nothing in the darkness, not even the floor past the threshold of the door. Silence seemed to crawl outwards like a creeping miasma, and he could feel the rage flowing over him like fire.

A dark glimmer of rubies alit just past the black of the door. It took him a moment to recognize that they were in the angular depiction of the Princesses eyes. She was staring at the cooks.

Princess Zelda’s soft voice did not fit anywhere upon the beast which gazed outward from the black, but emanated from it anyway. “That,” she said firmly, “is not chocolate.”

The front cook began to stammer. “W-well, your highness, we don’t, umm, we don’t have any-”

“I specifically asked for chocolate, didn’t I?” the rubies asked, twisting in the air from chef to chef, glimmering angrily.

“Y-you did, but…” one chef began.

“You ate it all,” the other said, “there’s none left!”

There was a sudden tornado of wind that swept down the passageway, blowing each occupant off of their feet. Vesmas could feel the anger slicing through the air like the strike of a well-practiced swordsman. Emotion overwrote patience and the chefs were suddenly upended, flung far down the hallway. Vesmas twisted in the air with a shout and had a brief vision of the ground before he realized he was being pulled forth, towards the ruby eyes. He grit his teeth and pushed forwards, tumbling into darkness.

When he opened his eyes, he was sitting on a chair at a desk. He was twisted sideways, looking upon the room at large. A small bedroom, with a single bed and a light dresser, was alit by a glowing orange flame which hovered near a portal of absolute darkness that must be the door. There was another mass of darkness, sharply cut into a cube, sat before him. He could see the heightened energy of this one, with a small sharp line of purple highlighting the black. It moved very slightly as the ruby eyes swirled round from the front to face him.

“Good morning, Captain,” the Princess greeted. “May I offer you a marshmallow?”

Out of the black, a pale white arm extended to him. It was holding a handful of soft white marshmallows.

Numbly, Vesmas shook his head.

The black reigned the hand back in, and Zelda made a sound as she assumedly upended the handful into her own mouth. There was a stripe of pleasant pink that flickered through the cloud.

“Can’ bel’v ‘ey didn’ deco’ate the cake,” she mumbled through her full mouth.

Vesmas grunted. He turned back to the room at large. “All this magic stuff,” he said, “is getting to be too much for me. That hardly seemed like a proper way to say ‘come in.’”

Zelda hefted a bitter laugh from behind the darkness, and the ruby eyes bobbed before winking out. “No, I don’t suppose it was,” she said. “I apologize to you. It has been a… stressful night.”

Vesmas ran a hand over his chin, noticing her voice was tinted with sadness. “Can you turn off this… thing?” he gestured. “It’s unnerving to speak with you like this.”

The ruby eyes reappeared, shifting nervously. “I would rather not…” Zelda hesitated. “There’s been some issue since last night.”

“Were you hurt?” Vesmas asked. “I was told the intruder had not managed-”

“No.” Zelda spoke bluntly, giving Vesmas pause. He waited. “I suppose I see your point. It must be awkward for you to speak with me like this,” she said after a minute.

“I can’t say it’s an everyday occurrence,” Vesmas softly agreed. “Magic users are a rarity in town. The last time I’ve seen anything like what you can do is when some of the sages were at the Harvest Festival last year.”

A dark laugh came forth from the black. “The issue upon us is coated in magic. I’m sure you’ll see more than this simple illusion before the day is done.”

The ruby eyes winked out, taking with it the swirling violet. The cube began to vanish from the bottom, revealing the person who waited inside.

The first thing Vesmas saw of Zelda was her feet. They were uncovered, soft pink on the cold stone floor. He began to feel a tad uncomfortable when he saw that her legs too, were bare. Then, something else took his attention entirely.

As Zelda’s body came into the light, Vesmas could clearly mark just how different it had been from last night. First, her thighs came forward, smooth and soft, and each as round as the ham brought by the cooks. Her hips flowed outwards like the bulkhead of a ship, curved and heavy looking, before revealing her belly which flopped over them, nearly hiding her ill-fitting underwear from sight. Then, the pink of her sheer nightgown was revealed, ripped in several places around the girl’s chunky waist. Her breasts perched atop of it like hefty grapefruits, though they were small and perky compared to her swollen gut. Next came her neck, which looked shorter now, and passed into a gentle, sleek chin. Her cheek bones were hidden beneath a layer of chub. Finally, her face was revealed, as was her disheveled hair, and her deeply disapproving frown.

Her blue eyes shifted uncomfortably, following his gaze to look down at her body. She sighed, sticking a fat finger through one of the tears in her undershirt. “I know some spells that could help fix my clothes, but I need fabric and thread first…” With her free hand, Zelda reached out onto the desk and took another handful of marshmallows from the bowl, spooning it wholly into her mouth.

Vesmas was a seasoned veteran of the guard. He managed to keep his mouth closed and his eyes focused on Zelda’s rather than gaping at her body, but only just. He couldn’t help but remember how heavily she had been stuffing herself yesterday, how her belly looked so firm and tight, but now under layers of fat, the girl looked as soft as the marshmallows she chewed. “Are you…?” he hesitated. “Do you…?”

Zelda huffed. “Despite my occupied thoughts, I would be hard pressed not to notice.” She pointed over the desk, and into a mirror. Zelda’s reflection showed her profile, and each of the growing curves of her body. “I saw myself when I came in here, and it only frustrated me further. Which then made me… well…”

“Do you feel… okay?” Vesmas asked, trying to be sensitive.

“Fine, actually.” She sounded surprised. “Even good, physically. Besides simply feeling hungry.” Zelda raised her sight to his before returning it to her belly. She stuck a finger into it, and it pushed far inward. “I think I may have been cursed,” she said.

“May have been?” he asked.

Zelda looked up to him and grimaced. “Well… maybe?”

Her tummy growled, and Vesmas watched it visibly slosh while Zelda’s face contorted into a deeper displeasure at her stomach.

“Goddesses above,” she cursed. Her eyes flickered to the desk, where Vesmas was only just able to see the food from the chefs. Zelda took a slice of the ham in two fingers and popped it into her mouth. She chewed it quickly, other hand resting atop of her stomach, and swallowed before saying, “I think it might be because of my emotional state, as well.”

“Your... emotional state?” Vesmas asked.

Zelda glared at the food. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m mad.”

That much was obvious, but Vesmas was smart enough not to say so. “About the attack? Or about being sent to this room?” Vesmas inquired.

Zelda turned aside from the ham, engaging Vesmas once more. She sighed, shifting in her chair uncomfortably. “A few hours ago, Link attacked me.”

Vesmas felt his concern raise even further, yet this was something he could latch onto. A physical attack, he could understand. “Link? The Hero attacked you?”

Zelda nodded. She was looking into a mirror, her blue eyes looking far past it. “He’s been possessed,” she said quietly. “A mask. Tribal, I think,” she slowed further. “I can’t know for sure yet.”

“Possessed?” Vesmas balked. “How?”

Zelda shook her head, her eyes falling downwards, past even the bowl of marshmallows. “He took on the appearance of a child,” she said after a moment. “Like he hadn’t aged at all from when we last saw one another.”

Vesmas heard the grief in her voice, saw it upon her face. In that moment, she resembled not a princess, but rather a hundred other grieving women that he’d seen on the job. With a pang in his chest, he reached an arm out and touched her shoulder.

She turned to him. Her blue eyes brimmed with an intense woe. Her voice began to quaver, “He asked me to play with him again.”

The Princess’s downcast expression reached deep into Vesmas. Could this really be the same girl who just hours ago had been giggling over strawberries? He felt his own will turning to steel. Action was needed. “What can we do?” he asked her.

She sniffed and whipped the back of her hand past her nose before turning and pulled near an opened book. “I’ve been searching all night,” she said, her voice finding its firmness, “but I’ve found nearly nothing on this from any of these books. Possession is one of the ultimate forms of magic, but possession from an object itself is something I’ve never heard of.”

Vesmas took his hand from her shoulder and looked onto her book. On it, a horrible hand drawn portrait of a stocky figure with a pointed hat was wearing a spiky looking mask. Yet, even past the awfulness of the drawing, the wide irises of the mask were deeply unsettling. Vesmas then noted that the drawing had Hylian script hastily written, diagramming the picture.

“All I know is the name. Majora.” Zelda said, taping the label below. “I know not if that is the entity that is controlling the mask, or if it is some sort of consciousness that the mask holds and uses to dominate those who wear it.”

The drawing had a number of lines pointing to different areas. The mask itself was labeled as ‘Wooden’ and ‘Hand Painted,’ while the spikes were labeled as ‘Pointy.’ There was another underlined label of ‘Dangerous’and one other that read ‘Childlike(?)’

“Where did you find this?” Vesmas asked. “It looks like a child’s drawing.”

He looked up to see a deep disapproving pout on Zelda’s lips. She turned, stuck her nose up in the air, and made a loud “Hmph!” while withdrawing the book back to her. Then, with another hand, she grabbed the bowl of marshmallows and dunked it backwards, spilling many into her open maw.

Vesmas hesitated, noticing the writing utensils on the Princess’s desk with a grimace. He shifted, about to apologize when he next saw the Zelda’s freehand coming to rest on the curve of her stomach. Her soft fingers on her softer body, the small act really cemented the Princess’s weight. Not even stuffed, like she’d been yesterday. Zelda’s body rolled over her thighs, filling her lap with her own overweight belly. “Do you… think this might have to do something with…” he gestured.

The girl was chewing the marshmallows with a voracious appetite. “I chrtany ‘ope sho,” she said through a full mouth. “‘At way,” she grunted before swallowing. Vesmas tried not to notice just how much it made her body quiver. “That way, we can tend to both of these at once. I haven’t a book of curses in here, but from what I’ve studied, there’s nothing expressly out there that makes a woman…” she paused, the heat leaving her voice. “Fat,” she finished lamely, chin tucked into her chest.

Vesmas cleared his throat, trying to figure out the next step. “So,” he said, standing up from his seat and leaning over to look at the book once more. “We’re looking for a child wearing a mask?”

Zelda shook her head, giving a heavy sigh. “It’s Link. I can only imagine what sort of power the mask must have to… to overwrite…”

Vesmas turned to her. She was looking down at the back of her right hand. Her fair skin was immaculate, with just a touch of pink color giving her a warm glow. “What?” Vesmas urged.

Zelda lightly placed her fingers over the back of her hand. “Overwritten,” she intoned. She moved, then, standing from her seat. “I need to access the library.”

“Well, wait just a moment,” Vesmas said. “The sun’s only just about to come up, and you don’t even fit into your nightgown.” He gestured at Zelda’s ample body, her hips bobbing up and down while her peachy pink bottom suffocated her overworked underwear.

Zelda waved her hand, and the black shadow that had overtaken the door vanished. She looked over to him before down to herself and grunting in affirmation. The small flex in her chest caused another tear to form near her arm. “Time is not on our side…” she muttered.

“It can wait until I get you your clothes,” Vesmas said. He made his way to the door and opened it half an inch. “Guardsman!” he barked.

“Sir!” the response was immediate, as was the appearance of the golden armored guard.

“Princess Zelda needs access to her clothing. Bring some down here from her room,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” the guard responded. “Does she desire any clothing in particular?”

Vesmas turned to Zelda.

She was licking a glob of white frosting off of her finger. She froze when she saw him notice her before slowly pulling her finger out of her mouth, a red blush brightly coloring her cheeks. In her hand she held the bowl of pure vanilla icing.

“T-they didn’t put it on the cake…” she muttered, as if it were some sort of defense.

He turned back to the guard. “Just bring as much as you can carry,” he said.

“Make sure he gets my jewelry, please!” Zelda called.

“And her jewelry,” Vesmas relayed.

“Oh, man…” the guard whispered before remembering himself and straightening. “Yes, sir! Right away, sir!” He turned and hurried from the room, though Vesmas could only just hear the guard mutter, “Like I know a thing about where she keeps her jewelry…”

Vesmas grunted and closed the door before turning back to Zelda. She was making a motion with her finger before lifting it, and a small portion of the bare cake rose from the tin. Another slight motion dunked the sugary dough into the vanilla frosting, and the Princess then levitated the sloppy treat up to her mouth. She took a bite of it in midair, looking rather pleased with herself.

Vesmas cleared his throat. “Something occurs to me,” he said, making his way back to the desk. He slid the book to closer, looking at the horrendous depiction of the child and the mask.

Zelda gazed over to him with a raised eyebrow. Her pink lips, now sticky with her vanilla sweet, bobbed up in down with her chubby cheeks.

“Shouldn’t your attendant be here?” he asked. “Impa? The Sage? Surely she’d be more help to you than just sending a general alert to the guard.”

Zelda’s eyes turned back to the cake, and similarly doughy reflection just beyond. She glowered. “Impa left the castle yesterday evening to attend a meeting with the seven sages.” She let that hang for a moment before adding, “It was in response to a magical interference coming over me the night before last.”

Vesmas felt his own brow furrow. “Now, hold on. You were attacked two night ago as well?”

Zelda shook her head. “Not attacked. It was something more like a message. A voice spoke to me, ‘Beware the door.’”

Vesmas sat backwards. “We ought to have known about this,” he said. “We should have been watching for anything suspicious.”

In a sudden snap, Zelda tore the floating cake into half, taking in a large mouthful. A second piece floated, hitting her dip hard enough to create a soft splash. She looked angry, though she wasn’t looking at him.

Zelda was glaring at herself in the mirror.

“I won’t press further than that,” he promised, “but I admit I don’t understand the meaning. ‘Beware the door’?”

“Yes,” Zelda reiterated. She took a moment and closed her eyes, catching both her half-eaten and horribly messy slices out of the air. “I can’t help but imagine it’s related, in some way, to this Majora figure.” She took in the first bite, then after a moment’s notice, lapped at the frosting which coated her hand.

“A little more than looking for the man who could pull a rupee out of his hat,” Vesmas griped.

A knock at the door announced the return of the guard. Vesmas went to it, stopping short of touching the handle. He turned back to Zelda.

The Princess shook her head. She lowered her frosting stained paw. “No, this door’s fine,” she said. “I still haven’t worked out the meaning, but it’s not trapped or anything.”

“Right,” he nodded to himself before opening the door.

Two guards stood outside of the door, one holding an armful of dresses and blouses and the other laden with regal looking boxes.

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After finishing her cake and cleaning herself of frosting and crumbs, Zelda clapped her hands, her wrists jostling her round belly. She summoned up a segment of will, felt it twisting in the center of her gut. There was a lot more room in there now, but that normally just meant the energy had room to disperse.

She wouldn’t let it. Her concentration tightened it more and more, her hands unconsciously covering and then flexing into her stomach as if she were molding herself into a perfect doughball.

“Need any help?” Captain Vesmas asked.

Zelda opened one eye and gave him a smart half-smile. “I thought you didn’t know much about magic.”

He shrugged, though he seemed to be looking away from the Princess. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

Zelda laughed lightly. “No, I’ll be fine. Alteration is a complicated field, but I should be able to manage.”

“What do you have to do?” he asked.

Zelda spread her hands out before her, palms down and fingers outwards. “Well, first, the fabrics need to be consistent,” she said.

The clothing on the bed lifted, a rainbow of colors in the bright light from the bulb of Din’s flame. Brilliant red, a dark water blue, a vibrant violet. Zelda guided each set of cloth, spreading them wide before layering them atop of one another. With a look down at herself, it was quite clear that none of them would fit her in their current state, but she couldn’t imagine she was in such excess that she’d need a drastic change.

“It’s helpful, since I mostly have the same outfit set aside for my general duties, just in different colors. A dress with a royal tunic atop of it, and a cape set over my shoulders. It’s not what I’d wear to a wedding,” she was interrupted for a moment while the thought of dark, delectable wedding cake passed through her mind. A short little flash, yet the girl felt famished for anything chocolate.

“I know less about clothes than I do about magic,” Vesmas joked.

It brought Zelda back. She remembered, and remembered she had cake in her room she could snack on as soon as she finished. “Hmm,” she considered. Her eyes seemed to latch upon one of the outfits, with the dark coloring of an emerald. She felt a bit of a smile come to her cheeks. “What do you know about Farore?” she asked the guardsman.

She twisted her right hand, bringing two fingers together. All but two outfits neatly went to the side, guided onto the bed by her left hand while her right brought the two outfits together.

One of them, the deep violet outfit looked darker still underneath the other, which was a dark yet courageous green. Zelda held the image of Link in her mind as she crossed her fingers, and the outfits began to merge.

Fabric tore and became re-stitched before her attentive eye. She used her left hand to squeeze the color from some of the cloth, and then changed it to embellish the others. Before long, she held her dress.

The dress itself retained the dark, royal purple, with light marks of lavender to highlight the edges. Her cape and tunic now were the earthly green, with the royal marking upon her tunic highlighted by the yellow trim and the emblem of the Triforce. It took her a moment to find her belt, now violet as the dress, and she laid it upon the bed with her completed outfit.

“That was astounding,” Vesmas said, looking down at the dress. “I’d never imagine magic used like that.”

Zelda felt joy at the older man’s reverence. “There’s many types of magic,” she winked playfully, “and I am schooled in all of them.”

He shook his head, still gawking at the dress. “Well, you’d put the seamstresses out on the streets with this. Combined, they look so much bigger now. They’ll surely fit you.”

Zelda’s childish smile vanished into a narrow glare. She had to remind herself that she couldn’t fault the man for speaking the truth. Still, that she needed two of her dresses to even cover her now… She cleared her throat, drawing Vesmas’s attention. Then, she looked to the corner.

He didn’t understand, but he quickly caught on. “Oh, right,” he said. “Apologies, Lady.”

He turned about and Zelda began to strip out of her nightgown. She had difficulty lifting it over her chest, then even more when it came to her shoulders. The fabric tore a further two times before simply falling lamely to the ground in a ball at her feet. Zelda poked the pink remains with her toe, seeing the damage she’d done to it through the night. “This was one of my favorite nighties,” she complained.

She took a moment to take stock of herself. Down to her underwear, Zelda had a clear demonstration of her jiggling figure. She was fat, there was no denying it, but noticing it made her feel slightly more hungry. As if paying attention to her belly were causing it to notice how empty it felt. She pinched more than an inch of her flab in her fingers, and it sent a chill down her spine when she realized she had to pull her stomach up so she could see round the curve to her panties.

When she dropped her stomach, it slapped loudly on the meat of her thighs. Zelda, feeling the fat from her chest rubbing against her soft arms, then began to inspect her limb.

She’d trained so hard for such a long time. At one point, the Princess had been strong. Yes, she had been putting off training, but inspecting her arm now had the poor woman question if she’d ever had muscles at all.

“Does this look like...” Zelda flexed her flab-covered bicep, pure white skin sagging down near her armpit. Her pursed lips tighten as she flicked the fatty mass. “Oh just... forget it,” she dropped.

“I’m… hesitant to look, Princess.” Vesmas said from the wall.

Zelda sighed, realizing her own hesitation. Finally, the Princess turned and regaled herself in the mirror. She quickly wished that she hadn’t, because the food was over there.

She took two steps forward and took some of the ham off the plate. She scooped it into her mouth, following it with a bite of potatoes, before really looking into her reflection. The pink bra and panties were torn in several places, each clinging on for dear life. She adjusted her chest, feeling the fraying threads at the center of her bra, looking as if she’d explode out of the clothing at any moment. She found two more tears, near her hips and the beneath her flabby arms. She poked at her body, still looking in the mirror, still chewing the pork, and the words of the gamemaster came back to her from yesterday.

“Princess Zelda, Champion of Sweets,” she said to herself.

Vesmas coughed. She turned, but he was still looking into the corner. “Everything alright, Ma’am?” he asked.

She looked back at her reflection, back at Princess Piglet chomping down her food. “No,” she stated firmly, feeling the burn of determination in her chest. “But it will be.”

She turned and felt the smooth glide of her fat thighs passing over one another when she returned to the bed. She dressed swiftly, pulling the dress over her head and allowing the tunic to properly settle. Then, she looked around for her jewelry and began to affix it.

The dress fit comfortably, which slightly irked Zelda, but she appreciated it too. Her belt snapped into place over her stomach, and she kept it a little bit tight so it would hold her tunic right to her belly. She placed on her necklace, then her pauldrons, but was met with much frustration when she found that her golden bracelets could no longer fit over her chubby forearms. She tried for a moment to force them, but they pinched her flesh until it turned red and she finally relented.

She looked into the mirror once more and saw how messy her hair was. She scowled round the room, her hairbrush nowhere in sight, and decided that magic would have to do. Turning on the spot, she felt the surge of magic surround her in a crystallized construction, before ending just as quickly. One glance in the mirror, and her hair was well brushed. She was then able to affix her tiara, with its ruby centerpiece upon the crest of her head.

“I hate using magic to get dressed,” she complained to Vesmas. “I’m going to be feeling that willpower in my hair all morning.”

Vesmas, taking this as a signal that she’d finished, turned and looked her over. “Well, I think you look quite nice,” he said. “If I didn’t know any better, it’d be like any other day.”

Zelda placed a hand on her bulky hip. “I’ve nearly doubled in weight,” she stated flatly.

Vesmas shrugged. “I happen to know better.”

She huffed through her nose. “Yes, well, you’ve received my instruction. I wish to have the city watch in full force to find that mask,” she pointed to the book.

Vesmas went to it and placed a hand on it, examining it. “Yes, I’ll spread the word as soon as I return to the watch house,” he spoke over his shoulder. “We can use your… sketch, to help with information. And what will you do?”

Zelda turned, going to the door of the room. “I’m going to find Link,” she said, pushing it open.

And she stepped inward to the cozy dwelling of Ianua’s Candy Shop.