Chapter One
a/n I do not own Zelda, but I guess you've already assumed that.
My country lay within a vast desert. When the sun rose into the sky, a burning wind punished my lands, searing the world. And when the moon climbed into the dark of night, a frigid gale pierced our homes. No matter when it came, the wind carried the same thing... Death. But the winds that blew across the green fields of Hyrule brought something other than suffering and ruin. I coveted that wind, I suppose.
-Ganondorf, The Wind Waker
The bright sun shone mercilessly one the endless expanse of the Gerudo Desert. The dry sand and red clay covered the land for as far as the eye could see. They say that in the beginning, the goddess Din favored this land above all others, and she favored it with her fury. The burning sun bore witness of that, as did the empty skies and barren earth.
Din was not a goddess to be loved. She was a goddess to be reverenced and respected, like the desert. A man did not love the desert, not like he loved water or the lush, green fields that sustained him. When a man said that he loved the desert, he meant that as he sat under a palm tree drinking from a sure water supply, he could admire the majesty and power of the endless, arid plain. When a man was burning under the blazing sun, drinking lizard blood to moisten his crusty throat, trying to stave off death until the next oasis, he did not love the desert. He hated it, he feared it, the desert overwhelmed him.
From a palm tree's shade, drinking from his waterskin, Ganondorf Dragmire loved the desert in a respectful, reverent sort of way. It wasn't the most comfortable place to live, but miles upon miles of barren wasteland did wonders at keeping the neighbors away.
Neighbors...That word didn't quite suite the Hyrulians who dwelt to the east in their lush, green pastures and gurgling streams. A thousand years ago, the people of Hyrule banished murderers and thieves to the Gerudo Desert, hoping that they would quietly die far away where they wouldn't have to look at them. For nearly a millennium, the Hyrulians had successfully lived in their edenic paradise in peace, for the most part forgetting the desert people to the west.
Then, a hundred years ago, a man touched by Din's power left the Gerudo Desert and led an army from the netherworld of shadow to the kingdom of Hyrule. They called him the King of Evil, the King of Light and Shadow. By his hand, the Land of Light fell and succumbed to darkness, if only for a moment.
Ganondorf bore no specific ill will toward the eastern kingdom, but he couldn't help but think where he would be if that Gerudo man had retained the throne a hundred years ago.
He glanced at the boar he had ridden on. They had stopped at this oasis some time ago, and that pig was still slurping greedily at the small pool of water that marked this place. Boars weren't as fast as horses, but they were strong. Regardless of the difference of weight they could carry, a boar could plow a small building without slowing.
He got up and managed to pull his disgruntled animal from the water and climbed on top of it. That thing would drink like a camel if he let it, and Ganondorf wanted to get to Aveil before sunset.
He had a passion for swords. He grew up spending a lot of time learning how to use swords. It made him feel powerful, but he couldn't make a living off of something like that. It was too practical. If there arose a need for swordsmen, he would provide his services for free, and when you want to make a living, you can't afford to get paid only with your life. Magic, on the other hand, held far more impractical uses, the kinds of uses that could make an ambitious Gerudo rich.
Ganondorf liked the idea of being rich, for pretty much the same reason he liked swords.
The hours dragged on uneventfully until he saw the village outline of Aveil in the distance. It was unimpressive by any standard. The buildings were small and clay, and the tents, even at a distance, were flimsy and made of...tent...stuff. Why a witch would want to live in a place like this, Ganondorf couldn't begin to understand, but he understood very little about witches.
"Hey, you," he called out to the first villager he found. "I'm looking for the witch Koume. Do you know where she lives?"
The man was thin and middle aged. He looked at Ganondorf appraisingly, as if deciding whether to answer him. "What do you want with her?"
"Let's just say I have business with her and leave it at that."
He paused again. "Koume doesn't do much these days. Retired. If you're looking to buy something off of her—"
"I'm not," Ganondorf interrupted impatiently. "I have business with her. I'm sure there are a lot of things you have to be doing, so if you could just tell me where I could find her, I'll be on my way."
The man shrugged dismissively and directed him to the witches residence. It was, as most of the buildings in Aveil, little to look at. Small, square, two stories, made of clay, a few windows. Kakkle had spoken highly of her, said that she was one of the most knowledgeable magic users of the whole desert. And yet it looked like she had chosen the scrawniest, most pathetic town to live in on the eastern half of Gerudo.
Ganondorf got off his boar in front of her house and knocked on her door uncertainly.
"What is it?" The voice was a croak, rough and unpleasant.
"I'd like to speak with Koume," he called.
He heard some grumbling and shuffling around before the door opened. An old hag blinked in the sunlight and looked him up and down. The word "hag" was no exaggeration, and "old" certainly wasn't. She had a nose that could dwarf a man's skull and wrinkly green skin that a lizard would be proud of. That, at least, was encouraging. Pretty people could never be expected to do anything competent.
"Well? What do you want?"
"I'm seeking an apprenticeship to learn sorcery," he said formally.
She looked him up and down. "You don't look much like a warlock." She glanced at the saber on the saddle of his boar. "You look more like a swordsman."
Ganondorf wasn't sure how to respond, so he didn't.
"Let me see your hands," she ordered. Ganondorf was half sure she was just looking for an excuse to turn him away, but he obeyed. She looked at his palms ritualistically, then examined the back of his hands as well. Koume glanced at his face a few times before speaking.
"In exchange for what?"
"In exchange...?"
"You don't expect me to teach you anything for free, do you?" she asked, as though the very idea seemed blasphemous. "What are you going to give me in return?"
Ganondorf hesitated. The magician Kakkle suggested that he start an apprenticeship here, but from what he said, Ganondorf expected the witch to require little more than various odd jobs, like an assistant paid with knowledge.
"I'm quite partial to pork, you know." she hinted. "If you'd like to make a trade."
Ganondorf glanced over his shoulder at his boar. The creature was strong and loyal, and it would be betrayal to abandon it now, after it had dutifully carried him after some thirty miles of desert...and if he couldn't get this apprenticeship, the beast would carry him another thirty miles back home in vain.
"You have a deal."
WWW
That night, Ganondorf slept soundly on the hag's kitchen floor. It wasn't comfortable, but he cared nothing for comfort. He didn't need it, he didn't want it. The only thing he needed was power.
And, in the morning that old, wrinkly witch would teach it to him. And that was his one desire. He had a weakness for strength.
WWW
The frozen howl of the night wind carried a song of fear. That sense of foreboding kept sleep from Koume, and for the life of her, she could not discern what it was. Winds of change, winds of darkness. Moonlit riddles and taunting answers.
Hyrule.
Something happened in the golden land.
Zelda.
The princess had...no. She hadn't died. It was something…else. A storm was brewing. And then there was that man.
Ambition shown in his eyes like an all consuming passion. And he was marked by fate, she was sure of it. That's why she had required his animal. She wanted to keep an eye on him for as long as possible. Because a storm was coming. A storm that had not seen its like for a hundred years.
WWW
a/n This is part of an idea that I've had for a while, and I've been trying to flesh it out. I'm not particularly thrilled with how the first chapter turned out, but things will pick up. If you didn't pick it up, this is about a hundred years after Twilight Princess, and this is not the same Ganondorf who conquered Hyrule a few times before. Just as Link is recreated form the beginning in every game, so is Ganondorf in this story. I've noticed that in every Zelda game, a hero with great courage goes on a quest to gain power sufficient to save Hyrule. In this story, the protagonist already has great power, and lacks only the hero's courage to save the land, and himself, from destruction. Unfortunately for me, however, I have no idea how.