Acknowledgement: Many thanks go to my beta reader Debochira, who is a great help in improving this story to make it more enjoyable to read. :)
Prologue - The Great War
Hyrule, a magical country united as a kingdom under the banner of the royal family. They held the might to reinforce justice and keep the balance between all the tribes. Peace reigned over their fatherland. Century after century, era after era.
Even though most tribes aided their neighbors or even traveled the world together, clans existed whose laws differed. The most notorious amongst them consisted of strong warriors who were branded as a tribe of outlaws, being infamous for disrespecting and crossing the borders of others, again and again.
As it continuously happened within history, it was inevitable that the day would arise on which the conflicts grew apart to a point where words lost their purpose. In the following night, the royals made the fateful decision. They placed the death sentence upon the peace. No one could have foreseen the fierce consequences of the declaration of war that would follow the days, the months, even the years after it.
The green landscapes of Hyrule had turned into a battlefield, buried under the remains of the fallen. The peace had long since vanished for fear and misery that claimed the hearts of the inhabitants, when the warrior clan clashed into the royal army.
Amidst the madness, thousands have lost their lives but even more would join them in death until the day where only one nation would triumph in victory over the enemy's extinction.
Despite all the cruelty that humanity had to offer in the Great War of Hyrule, there was a miracle. In the heat of the battle, almost at the same time, both leading nations had given birth to their successor. A prince and a princess.
Even though their early life was shaped with painful losses, the war came to an end when they both were still children. Yet it had claimed its victims. Only one nation survived. The knights of the royal army remorselessly hunted down the remaining people of the defeated tribe and only a few of them could escape their deadly fate. Now spread all over the kingdom, they were, together with their culture, forgotten by most.
As for both successors of their respective nation, they survived, though only one was allowed to become royalty and lead her people to prosperity.
The other one was condemned to a life of repression without knowledge about his own folk.
However, it was written within their destiny that one day their paths would cross each other's, maybe even closer and deeper that anybody deemed possible. Still their future was unknown and might even lead history on a darker path than the Great War itself.
Act I - The Life of a Gladiator
Chapter I - The Game of Death
The rusty sand crawled into his mouth. Heavily he breathed, suffering from the wounds inflected to him in the raging fight. As a result, great parts of his dark skin took on the same color as his hair. Red.
He spit out the dust again. It tasted disgusting. Mixed with the blood of the ones who had fought on these grounds before, fought for their lives. Even though some of them successfully protected it, many have found their eternal rest here on this battlefield.
However, he was not alone. In fact, he never was. A crowd of people surrounding him screamed and cheered helter-skelter. Though he never understood their words, it was obvious that they wanted, that they demanded he continued the fight. Something that made him sick, over and over again, because they just sat there on their tribune and watched, far outside of the range of any danger. The only thing they feared were battles that ended too soon or even worse, got stale and boring for them.
He never fought to protect anybody or to gain anything. The only reason he fought for was to entertain them in a game of death. Always knowing that the fight could be his last one and take the capital punishment without objections if he did not performed well enough.
In the end, this was expected without any exceptions from any gladiator. From him.
He panted angrily when he braced himself on the elbows. Though he still, after all the years, loathed the fact the he followed the bidding of them to fight on, it was his willpower to survive that pushed him forward. Again and again. Year after year. Though to achieve living another day, he needed his weapon back. His sword lay in eye-sight, yet still remained out of reach.
In the distance, the beast, a mixture of boar and minotaur, roared fiercely when it bashed against the barrier that divided it from the audience. It was supposed to fight him but after it had sent him on a flight, it seemed to have gotten a deeper interest on the people outside. Probably he was not enough to satisfy its hunger. Its attempts remained in vain since the barrier was powerful, even reinforced with magic. No one, neither human nor beast, could ever break it. At least not with mortal powers, that is.
He knew, once the monster would find out that the only living flesh in its reach would be him, it would not hesitate to drill its claws into his body and tear him apart.
He had to grit his teeth. He needed his swords, there was no other way but to crouch towards it. Once he reached his right arm out to get his hand on the blood-covered riff, an intense pain ran through it. Reflexively he let go of the weapon with a quiet cry. His view wandered upon the arm which had intercepted a lot of the impact of his fall before. Frustrated he witnessed that it had become useless. The damage was too severe. He had to fight with the other one. He could only hope that the adrenalin flooding in his veins could compensate this, indeed great, disadvantage.
The audience screamed louder in pleasure when he finally got up on his feet again. It was annoying but not a secret that they loved it, this drama, and this willpower of a warrior to keep on fighting, regardless of his injuries. They never spent a single second thinking about how someone in this arena felt when death was calling from beyond. Why would they.
It interested no one that they, the gladiators, never had chosen this life voluntary. Though their circumstances that lead to it were all different, from penalized bandits and murderers to orphans and outcasts, they had one thing in common. They were slaves, even tools of their master and bound to his will, his mercy at any given decision and time. The only other possibility they could choose was death. Truly frustrating to think about the choices that were offered to him since more than thirteen years. But he would not give up. Never, he swore to himself. One day, it should end. It must. And the end did not mean his death.
The monster had stopped attacking the barrier and realized that its supposed enemy had recovered. The red glowing eyes gazed at him and the teeth protruded out of its jaw. A howl echoed though the arena.
The ground trembled when the two hoofed feet crashed on the floor. He felt the impact very well on his whole body. This thing was without a doubt gigantic, more than double in size compared to himself, even though he towered as well above most other human beings with ease.
It came near him, the claws dangerously stretched. This here, it would be their last clash. The time had come. A winner would be declared between the both of them. Though he might be stretching on his physical limits, the creature had forfeited a lot of its stamina in the long ranging fight as well. And no matter how formidable his enemy might be, if this one wanted a piece of him, much effort had to be taken for it.
The beast charged at him and with its full weight, it tried to slice its claws through his stomach. He jumped aside, avoiding the biggest impact of the attack. He injured himself on his shoulder when he crashed to the ground. Unfortunate, his armor had fallen apart due to the reckless attacks and by now left his arms and a great part of his upper body unprotected.
The audience screamed in "oohs" and "ahhs" when they marveled at his struggle. Because of the missed attack, the beast stumbled. He used the chance to crawl between its legs to reach the backside, watching out to not get trampled down or smashed with its tail.
Still confused, the monster tried to locate him, but he already had grabbed the tail with his remaining arm, the sword now fixed onto his armor. He lifted himself onto the beast's back. The only chance he had to end the fight in his favor was to hit it directly on the head. All the other parts of its body were covered with a hard skin beneath its fur. Far too difficult to cut through in regard to his weakened condition.
The task of climbing up proved to be tough as the beast tried to shake him off. One time he barely avoided a hit from the tail. He lost his balance though he was able to grab one arm of the monster to prevent the fall. It tried immediately to slice through him with its other claw.
A painful roar echoed through the arena. The beast had drilled its own claws into its body. He avoided the attack with a well-timed maneuver. Albeit a quite close call as he had felt the blast of air blowing over his skin when the claws neared.
Now the monster was distracted by its own pain. It stumbled without orientation through the arena. Finally! He had the chance to climb up to its head. Upon it, he saw the thin layer of skin, the weak spot. Heavily breathing, he grinned. The end, at hand.
He twisted his legs around the horns of the beast. He needed his arm free to draw the sword again to execute the mortal blow. He hammered the blade into the head. No mercy for the beast. Again, remorselessly again he hammered the sword into its skull. Again and again, spilling its blood even on his own body until a last scream echoed all over the battlefield. The light in its eyes extinguished. Death had claimed it.
Under the sheer jubilation of the audience, the beast fell down together with him. From one moment to another, silence dominated the arena as both lay motionless in the dust.
No denying, he was exhausted. His body had reached its limits. As his view wandered onto the beast, resting besides him with the sword sticking in its head, he realized… It was finished off and the fight… victory belonged to him. Only him. A feeling of pure exhilaration filled him from the inside, followed by a deep and satisfying smile ranging all over his face.
The emotion, strong enough that it blinded out his pain and exhaustion. All of it. Slowly he stood up. Not easy to stay on his feet. No matter. He raised his left arm. Victory was his. Only his.
The cheering. Immense. He stumbled along on his way to the outside with his last strength. This moment, one of those rare ones he really enjoyed from the bottom of his heart. He would not allow himself to miss it because of his physical condition. Because the triumph combined with the feeling of acknowledgment of his skills from all the people made him feel to be a little worthwhile at least.
The sad truth, he knew once he would be out of their sight they would forget him and only remember the fight between a man and a beast that tore each other apart until death. As for him, everything would repeat again one day without knowing if he would witness this moment ever again. Maybe he would join the ones that found their eternal rest on this battlefield. Because the games of death knew no end as long as people loved to watch them. And they have for eons.
Under all the cheers and jeers, he could hear it. It was neither clear nor loud but a few screamed it nonetheless. His name. It created a warm feeling inside him. Maybe this was even worth more than all the jubilation combined. It showed he was more than a mere tool. He was a human and would not be forgotten by all.
His name, he held it dearly for it was the only thing he remembered before his life as a gladiator. The name Ganondorf.