Esparia: ...I bet the returning viewers looking at this are saying, "WHAT?! It updated?!" while the newer ones are cautiously eyeing the publishing date, 'Published in 2012...is this even still going?'

In short, this was rewritten because it was an epicenter of bad grammar and spelling errors but it ultimately has the same basic plot and events. Also, no more first person point of view! Yeah!

For those who are new to this, I'm telling you now that this is under "Adventure" because there is adventure and "Spiritual" because I'm incorporating spirituality in this. The Zelda universe is a very polytheistic, obviously, I mean the whole goddesses thing (used to be very blunt with just the three golden goddesses...there are like how many deities now? Din, Farore, and Nayru...Hylia, the Demon King, Majora, Goddess of the Sands, etc.). Well I'm about to dump that out the side of a moving van and tip the Zelda universe on its axis. One God, the goddess(es) thing is going to be addressed later (never actually got to that point when I first wrote this though, pity).

I'm a monotheist, as are all Christians, so if this monotheism belief offends you, you can either try to ignore the whole story and its foundation or you can simply not read this story. Really it's up to you.

All that being said...Ladies and Gentlemen, Legend of Zelda fans of all ages, I present to you, the rewritten version of Gandondorf's Redemption!

Disclaimer: I'm saying this once and only once. Esparia does not own Legend of Zelda, however, Esparia owns this fanfiction. It's a free idea, but don't steal the written labor that went into this.

Song of the Update: Worn by Tenth Avenue North

Ganondorf's Redemption

Chapter One

Ganondorf stood silently in a bloody field, hands clenched, and head bowed. He was surrounded by a past carnage, people slaughtered and who had once lay still within their own puddles of red.

These people were not soldiers, not warriors that fought for their country. They were regular citizens that lived their routinely lives of farming and raising cattle. There were people of all ages. The young and the old, children and adults, and of all races.

There were Hylians, Gorons, Zoras, Korkiri, and even his own people, the Gerudo. These people were fine now, it was a dream after all. They didn't have blood staining their clothes, not like his rust colored uniform and the red that clung to his hands; they were uninjured and whole, whereas he had wounds littering his body.

They looked at him now, accusing him for taking their lives when he had no need to.

"Why am I here?" He asked them, fists unclenching and fisting again.

They said nothing to him, their expressions were enough.

Head still bowed and fringes of red hanging in his eyes, he asked, "I know what I have done to you, so why do you torture my mind so?"

The crowd surrounding him were as silent as one would expect from them.

Fists and body trembling, he wondered, "Have I not suffered enough?"

The dead had no reason to speak.

Ganondorf's golden eyes blinked warily, slowly waking from his dream. It wasn't the first time he had a dream such as that, it had been the fifth time that month in fact. He had similar dreams in varying degrees of horror. Sometimes it would be from the point of view of the victim; sometimes he would be trapped within his own body, reliving moments; other times he was like a phantom that could do nothing but watch his past evils. It was not always a murdering spree, it was sometimes like his dream he had just a moment ago. The faces of those he killed haunting him, sometimes begging for mercy, sometimes mute, sometimes yelling at him for killing them. He did not know why he was suddenly plagued by these dreams, what he did know was that it had caused a deep sense of grief and regret to settle in his heart.

Ganondorf hauled himself out of the bed, exhausted before the day even began. Feet touching the cool tiles of the floor, he stood and stretched. With a groggy huff, the Gerudo male made his way to the wash basin to wipe away he sleep from his eyes.

Removing the white sheet he glanced up at the mirror that was propped up for use, his tired gold eyes met with the face of a haggard man. He did not enjoy the mirror's presence, sure it made sense that he should know if there were any embarrassing lines of drool were sticking his fiery hair to his face. However, other than that, the mirror merely reflected a monster to greet him every time he turned to face it.

This monster looked no different than any other Gerudo other than that it was male. It had dark skin, gold eyes, and fiery red hair. The monster in the mirror was strong, so powerful and confident that it seemed nothing could sway it. It was this monster that bore the blood of thousands of innocents, it was this monster that bore the greed for power, it was this monster that was one and the same as he was. That monster in the mirror was the king of the Gerudo, bitter with the world around him, hateful to the things he could not control, scum of the earth, disgrace of the living...Ganondorf.

Ganondorf turned away from the mirror and covered it back up with the sheet.

A knock on his door alerted the Gerudo king that a servant was present, likely the cause of him waking in the first place. Dreams so rarely woke him, even if they were unpleasant.

"Whom is it that disturbs me so early?" Ganondorf's voice rang through the room.

A servant's (see Minion) voice stuttered through the door, "Mistress K-koume an-and Mistress Kotake wish to meet with you, your excellency."

Ganondorf huffed, "very well, inform them that I will be there shortly."

Rapid footsteps fled from the room, signaling the inferior being's departure. If there was one good thing that Ganondorf enjoyed from being a feared man, it was that imbeciles and geniuses alike wouldn't get in his way or irritate him more than need be.

Ganon's thought returned to what the servant said, Koume and Kotake would being seeing him. The two had raised him since he was young, and have supposedly served multiple kings in the past. That being said, they were old. He didn't know how old and frankly he didn't want to know, he didn't doubt that they were as old as they were now was due to some dark magic. He knew they were witches, or at least he strongly suspected they were of some sort, having seen the twin's hidden room once before. It was a place that felt heavily of dark magic and witchcraft, he didn't dare go back since.

They had taught him of Gerudo customs, strategy, history, and the art of magic. They had essentially raised Ganondorf after his mother died, having died after child birth they had said. They were like aunts. He held their opinions and words in the highest esteem, that is why he was willing to answer their calling. If they had been anyone else, he would have ignored them or have had them imprisoned for their continued imprudence.

They were calling for him, and he wondered what precisely they would require. Sometimes they simply wanted to give him another lesson in strategy or economics, other times they would report vital information they had just acquired, other times they would instruct him to do something. Those jobs that they had him act out were often more of the gruesome and dishonorable type, and would undoubtably haunt his dreams later.

Shaking his head he decided that it was better to get it done and over with. Grabbing a tie as he passed his desk, Ganondorf strode out his room and down the halls. His imposing air covered any lingering doubts from the eyes of those watching. With deft fingers, he tied his fire red hair back in time to knock on Koume and Kotake's door.

"Come in, Ganondorf," they said in unison.

"Koume, Kotake," Ganondorf greeted with a bow of the head.

Kotake gestured to the seat across from them while Koume said, "please sit, we have things we need you to do for us."

"There is a Hylian that goes by the name of Tingle," Koume said, Kotake nodded and said, "we need you to eliminate him."

"For what purpose?" Ganondorf asked, he had never heard of this man named Tingle. Was he some powerful mage? Did the man hold some ancient magical artifact?

"He is an expert chorographer," Kotake said.

"He has been charting this region for years," Koume said.

"He holds maps and knowledge of just about every corner of this part of the world," Kotake said.

"If not further," Koume agreed.

Ganondorf thought about this and asked, "if he holds as much regional knowledge as you say he does, then why not use him ourselves. Surely his knowledge could be of help."

"Hmph, his knowledge is too dangerous to be left alone," Koume said.

Kotake nodded, "he knows the land of the Gerudo too well."

"Find him, kill him, take his maps. That is all we need," Koume said.

"Very well," Ganondorf conceded, "I shall do so. Where will I find this man?"

"Termina," they both replied, "it should take you until nightfall to reach the land."

"Then I will leave immediately," Ganondorf said, "I shall tell someone to ready my horse."

"We already have," Kotake said.

"Your bags are already prepared," Koume said.

"You'll find everything you'll need and your sword waiting with the horse," Kotake said.

"Swift journey, Ganondorf," Koume said as Ganondorf left.

"May the goddess of the sands grant you a safe passage," Kotake said.

Ganondorf left Koume and Kotake's room and headed for the stables feeling slightly down about the mission they gave him. It was simply dirty work, that's all they gave him nowadays. Kill this person, steal from that person's grave, ransack this town, kill that person's family, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. No honor in his work at all. There was no honor in murder and assassinations. There was no glory in tomb raiding. There was no prestige that came with attacking a defenseless village. What praise could be won when killing a man's family?

They told him it was necessary. That he would thank them one day for all the trouble they went through. That all of the bloodshed and his stained hands were worth the power that it would grant him. However, what kind of power could be gained through such means? What sort of power required that you kill innocents? What sort of power was it that came with the need for bloodstained soul? Did he even want such a power? A power so tainted by the deaths of those that had nothing- no one to protect them?

They said it was like a training exercise, to get used to taking a life. That it was necessary to learn how to end a life of another and not freeze up. To not freeze at the sight of blood like he did when he was a child. He was considered a weak king when he was a boy, he hesitated and so they beat the hesitation out of him. Now he was a king that could take down legions of pitiful Hylians without so much as batting a lash.

Ganondorf checked his horse's straps and the bags attached, satisfied he mounted the black mare and rode off to Termina.

His biggest problem with killing the people that he did, was the fact that they were no threat to him or his people. They had done nothing against him or his tribe. They were innocents that hadn't raised a weapon nor word against him and his people. He couldn't even let them have the honor of defending themselves, not when all they did was look at him in terror and cower behind one another. Ganondorf hated that. He hated those looks. The fear in their eyes. So he made sure never to see it. He killed them swiftly and without fanfare, they would never know their deaths were coming. He was more assassin then he was warrior, and if that meant he didn't have to remember and be haunted by their looks alarm, then he was alright with that.

It wasn't his first choice to slaughter them all, to end lives before they began. It wasn't something that he even enjoyed. He felt numb and blank while killing them, it was afterward that his hands trembled and his mind rang with screams. He wanted power, yes, he wanted to be strong and someone everyone would respect. Someone that everyone would see as a strong and worthy leader. He didn't want to be a weakling king, he wanted to be a formidable king that could protect his kingdom. A king that couldn't protect his people was a useless puny king that would get no respect and be written down as a failure in the history texts. He didn't want to be remembered as a disgrace or worse, not remembered at all.

Hylians didn't even bother to remember the Gerudo's royalty unless they did something that effected their own kings and queens. Hylians were self-centered, pointy eared, goddess following, little toothpicks of a race. Weak. Yet their kingdom covered the lands far and wide. They were wealthy, they had goods that their people could thrive with and their people were so happy with minimal struggles. Hylians didn't have to worry about drought. They didn't have to worry about food shortage. They didn't have to ration cloth. They didn't have to worry about half their people not making the next year because of sickness.

The Hylians were weaklings, but Ganondorf gained nothing when he killed them. He gained nothing except more blood on his hands. That blood that couldn't be washed off with water no matter how many times a person soaped. That blood that dripped from his blade until he took a cloth to it. That crimson liquid that poured from the dead, be they adults or infants. Blood that looked no different than his own, no different than his people's. He hated that, the blood that couldn't be washed. He hated seeing the blood on him, how it followed him even into his dreams. He hated how it itched, and not matter how much he clawed, it would never leave him alone. He hated how it looked so much like his kin's blood, he couldn't lie to himself when it looked no different. That his people were no different than any of the other races, mortal people that would live and die like each other. He hated- loathed killing people that were innocent...that were...

"Than why are you doing so, Ganondorf?"

Ganondorf whipped his head around, looking for the source of the voice. It was an odd sounding voice, like it was there but not. It was not loud and booming, yet it commanded respect and obedience. It was strong, as if not even a hurling mountain quake would shake it. It was gentle, as if it held all the love in the world.

That voice was odd and no matter where he looked, there was only himself and the horse he was riding. He saw no one that could speak like that let alone anyone to begin with. He was alone. Ganondorf shook his head, perhaps he did not get enough sleep and water before he journeyed out. He has had his own hallucinations before, they were often weird and off the wall though.

Perhaps thinking so heavily on the death of the ones he had killed sparked some mad auditory hallucination, now that would be the first. Ganondorf reached down and grabbed his water skin, it was better to stay hydrated though, just in case.

"Why do you kill when you have no will to do so?"

Ganondorf pulled his horse to a stop, looking across the desert. He knew he heard something this time, and if it was some mage trying to prank him then he was going to hunt that mage down and string them up by their toes. Glaring into the desert he called, "If you do not stop this useless prank at once, I shall hunt you down myself!"

"Ganondorf."

Ganondorf glared at the land around him, annoyed that he could sense no telltale threads of magic being used.

"This is not what I have planned for you."

"So what difference do your plans make?" Ganondorf growled, "I am the mighty king Ganondorf and listen to no man and do as I please! Who are you to judge my actions?"

"I am that I am. I am the Creator that parted the Land from the Waters. I am the Maker that placed Stars in the Heavens. The only Master of the Universe and Ruler of all that I make. I am the One that knows all that has come to pass, that is, and has yet to come."

Ganondorf turned his head around in confusion, this voice made no sense. This person- this being seemed to think himself some sort of god. Impossible. Hylians were crazy enough to believe there was more than one, and that these three goddesses created the world. Absolute rubbish in his tribe's mind. The Zora like the Gerudo believed in a single god, though their god looked like a giant whale-fish. Which was an utter lie as well. The Kokori, the Gorons, the Minish, and any other people group had their own religion. But Ganondorf knew that the Gerudo had the goddess of the sands, why would some other race's god come and talk to him as if he also ruled over the Gerudo people when it was the goddess of the sands that ruled them? It was as if this being thought that he ruled over all the races, at that's what could be inferred by the way he talked. Ganondorf decided that he would ignore this voice for now, it was likely that it still was just a mage playing tricks on him. Everyone knew not to get into a fight with a mage when one couldn't locate the mage.