Author's Note: This was written on a whim when I really wanted some Zelda-centric horror and couldn't find a whole lot, and was going through some weird things. The universe is meant to be ambiguous, so it's not set in any specific game. Enjoy! (Or don't. That would be fine too.)
She breathes to calm.
The castle and the city she sees below are bathed in the intense gold of the setting sun. Gray stone blocks blaze marigold yellow with the fading light. The color reminds her of his eyes. The fierce eyes that she is forced to stare into in nearly every lifetime, during every abduction. Eyes that thirst for power and blood, eyes that will never give up the tireless battle for victory, eyes she will be looking upon once more in the next few moments.
Eyes of the Desert King.
As she looks out over her kingdom, awash in ever-reddening hues now akin to fire and blood, she lets her thoughts wander to Ganondorf. His cycle, unlike that of Link's and hers, is not that of death and rebirth. Hero and the princess are born within a few years of each other with each lifetime. Often, some part of them has diverged from their first life. The hero disembarks, finds himself, by saving someone's life; the princess's memory comes back in pieces and bears new weight. When the hero attacks, the princess defends.
But he—he is not reincarnated like the hero of legend or the princess of destiny. He dies, and returns. Ever he has been the same. Where she has diverged in age, in physical features, in memory of past lives, he has not. He is the same Ganondorf her soul encountered when she was trapped in the twilight. The very same Ganondorf when she was the daughter of King Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule, when she sailed the Great Sea as Tetra or sought to escape under the guise of a male Sheikah warrior.
Always he is the same. Always he comes for her. For the Triforce of Wisdom.
This time, however, she feels different. In past lives, she had felt calm, collected, and confident—in not only the hero's abilities, but in her own. Now, she feels only dread building deep in her belly. With every second that passes, anxiety sinks its claws further into her, making its home inside her chest and her throat. Fear snakes around her limbs, twisting her hands and tying her legs to her seat. Her perch… from which she can do naught but watch as her city is torn apart.
She hears the screams before she sees what is happening.
Stone turns to liquid before her very eyes. Blood replaces light as her home is washed in the fluid fresh from the bodies of her people. Surprise throws itself into the mix of her emotions, followed quickly by another stab of panic in the seat of her heart and the urge to vomit rising in her throat.
He's here.
Instead of rising from her chair to flee, she remains rooted to the spot, watching the carnage from her balcony. She turns to see that two guards at her door have tensed and are waiting for combat, and the terribly cold feeling that resistance is useless numbs her limbs. She wants to reach out, call to them, command them to run and leave her to what may come.
A war cry rips her back to reality and her head snaps back around. Warriors, members of the Hyrulian army, even random citizens surround a boar-like creature, hefting heavy clubs or long spears or swords. The boar, dark as a moonless night with a mane like the dying sun, seems not to care—no, seems to be pleased—about the situation before him. He readies to charge as other pitch-black monsters begin swarming over the castle walls and through the streets.
Zelda looks to the setting sun, so low in the sky that purples and blues have invaded the beautiful and wretched red hues. The sound of people laying their lives on the line for her, dying for her, reaches her ears in a sickening harmony of roars and yells and screams. She can't bear to look. Tears prick in her eyes as she makes out wails of "They're here!" and "Warn the Princess!"
She had known before. She had always known. All of her past lives had seen Ganondorf coming for her, and she knew this life would be no different. Yet, none of those lifetimes could have prepared her for this carnage. This time, he hasn't given her a way to save her people. There is no twilight under which she can hide them. He doesn't want a bargaining chip.
He wants to break her.
She has no time to dwell on this realization as the chamber door slams open, and the sound of hooves on the cobblestone floor turns into the sound of heavy boots. Grunts of pain follow; her guards are out.
She does not turn to look.
The setting sun still holds her attention, or rather, pretends to. She remains still in her chair until she feels two rough hands grip her shoulders tightly and steal her from it. Ferocious, ambitious golden eyes flash in her memory as she is forcibly turned around.
"Have I done it?" he growls, his voice coarse and dark and deep.
Zelda's stormy eyes meet his fierce dark ones, and she finds that they grow redder every moment. The princess struggles to hide her horror at his bloodlust and keep an even gaze.
The Desert King shakes her aggressively and poses the question when he is not satisfied with her lack of an answer. Still she says nothing, and he laughs harshly. "So I have broken you!"
She does not struggle or squirm. Instead, she looks at him resolutely, absolving to be strong in the face of her age-old adversary.
"No." Her voice, much like her gaze, is even and calm, hinting not to the one thought bearing down on her mind, her heart, her soul.
I should have fled.