At a few hours past the rising of the moon the bridge was vacant of travelers commuting between the kingdom of Hyrule and Dora's home beyond her forest. The Gerudo she was left, or forced to be, in charge of, were all sleeping well in their beds. They had been ordered to abandon their fortress home near the desert immediately after the hero's victory and the rise of the royal family. She refused to go any farther because she awaited the day that she could take her revenge, or even less likely, for him to return. There were several plans she had placed immediately into action, which they had discussed before his final battle, but she waited still, for ten years, for the rewards of their careful planning.
This was not the first night she found herself standing on the bridge, staring up at the stars, indulging in self-pity. The gush of the water falling off the short cliff nearby and rolling over the rocky ground sometimes soothed her. The air was not chilly but she shivered anyway. Each time she was there she prayed to the goddesses, whom she loathed for scorning her so, that it would be the last time she stood alone.
The loneliness that night was the worst yet. Most nights she could remain occupied with the women she watched, but when there were no trainings, no pupils to direct, and no dramatic disputes to resolve, she was left with only her memories. Her history made it difficult to maintain any friends, especially when she was bound to wait for her king to return. He had always told her if the worst happened that he would come back. He had never promised how long. There was no doubt in her mind he had kept that from her for a reason.
The blood pumped thickly through her head, making it pound. Finally, she released the white-knuckled grip she held on the rope of the bridge. In so many ways she blamed herself: for not being strong enough, for not being powerful enough, for not being enough. Or was the anger more useful directed at him? At her enemies? He had taught her early on that anger directed inward was dangerous. Her hate needed to be used only on her enemies. Without him, she could not focus on the next step.
It had been a long time since she found comfort in anything. Horse riding with comrades, archery practice, weapons training, cleaning, and even sleep could not ease the pain any longer. At first she had been able to just close her eyes and imagine his strong arms around her. Her dreams of his fantastic return, galloping home triumphantly on his black stallion, were also fading. If she closed her eyes and forgot about the world around her, dove into her sub consciousness, she could still see it happening as real as the chill on her skin. Once lost to the world she sometimes would smell him, fresh from battle. She could wrap her arms around her body and feel his strong hands caressing her flesh once again.
On cue, the tears began to flow.
Immediately after it happened, she had not grieved at all. She was strong in the resolve that her king would return soon so they could continue their conquest. When it did not happen as soon as she expected and she lost hope, the tears came. At first they were simply tears of grief and her overwhelming sadness would lead to vomiting. Months later she returned to her responsibilities and led her people as their rightful queen. There were members of her service that pleaded with her to find another man because he would have found another woman. If those servants had not been kin they would have been executed immediately for treason. They were convinced their king had been killed. She called them traitors and punished them. Eventually the negative words stopped, just in time for her to direct the blame inward.
After finally settling into their new home she spent most of her time turning her emotions against her. It was her fault. It was her weakness that was to blame. All the hate and anger that she had held for the hero she turned on herself and she fell into a depression. The less she was able to function as a leader the more depressed she became, until finally she stopped leaving her room and her bed. That was the time the nightmares were the worst. He would haunt her and tell her how absolutely useless she was. It was her fault they failed. She relived his banishment. Her depression hit its peak when she dreamt of nothing but his horrible, bloody death that was entirely made up from her imagination. The dream happened so frequently she began to believe it to be true.
Finally, Dora realized she needed to return. She needed to face the doors one more time. Disguised in a brown robe with a cloth covering all but her eyes, she entered Hyrule Kingdom once more. Everything had changed. In five years the population must have doubled. Already her repressed hate and anger began to surface.
She remembered the echo of her soft padded shoes as she walked steadily across the empty temple. Slowly, she ascended the three steps beside the altar and approached the door. It was cracked down the middle and had been since the day the hero opened it. Cautiously, she pressed her hand against the doors where they met in the middle. The power radiating from beyond took her breath away. It reassured her beyond any doubt that her husband was behind that door. She rested her head against the cold stone and swore from that moment on to be a strong leader and never allow her sorrow to control her. Then the most unexpected of all things happened.
From the corner of her eye she caught something glowing. It came from the back of her hand. She sprawled out her fingers and flattened her palm against the door. It was impossible. Her eyes widened in shock. Half of the Triforce of Power was glowing on the back of her hand. How was that possible?
Could this transfer have just happened? Was he reaching out to her from the other side to give her hope? What was more, the pieces only glowed when they were in close proximity of each other. To rule out any other Triforce bearers she immediately looked around. The temple was still empty. To her excitement, that left only one logical explanation: her king truly was just on the other side of the door, with no way to break the magical seal. She could only ask the goddesses to be merciful. Quickly, she left Hyrule before the other two Triforce holders realized she was there. It pained her to know she would never be able to return to feel his power through the temple doors again.
Six years had passed since then, and nothing. She had kept her promise and only cried when she was able to be alone. Lonely tears are the most pain-filled and most heart-breaking to hear.
Dora collapsed to her knees and sobbed violently. It felt as though the goddesses had damned her. If he had simply perished in the battle it may have been easier. She would have mourned him, moved on, but never stopped missing him. Instead, she was left to the torture of waiting, possibly her whole life, for him to return. What if she was old and dying when he finally returned? He would not have aged a single day and she would not be fit to aid in his revenge. She would never bear any children in his name.
It was quite some time before Dora was able to silence her tears. The rain that suddenly poured steadily on her did nothing to brighten her situation. Once it soaked her skin she knew it was time to toughen up and return home. The last thing she wanted to do was cause any of her servants to worry.
The sound of a traveler caught her attention before she turned to go home. It was an odd hour to be traveling away from the safety of the kingdom, so she remained still for fear of an intruder. Two horses pulled a heavy covered wagon at a slow pace. An old man's face was illuminated by a lantern he kept on a hook nearby for warmth. He was covered in rags of red and white from head to toe, all except for his eyes. As he neared the bridge she backed away to the other side so he would have room to pass.
A strange glow momentarily distracted her. Dora peered down at her hand to see the Triforce emanating. She quickly put her other hand over it to hide the glow. Why would it be doing this now? She hoped her enemies were not near.
The old man stopped the cart and spoke to her in a most confident tone. "Why is such a beautiful woman standing in the rain? Are you trying to catch the death? Have you no husband or family to be spending such a dreary night with?"
Dora recognized him as a regular of the road, usually carrying fresh loads of food or new clothing. She ignored his imposing questions. "Why are you travelling away from the kingdom so late at night, old man? Are you trying to be raided by pirates and thieves?" she retorted in response.
"I see. With such a fiery spirit it would be impossible for you to fall ill," he stated inquisitively."There is no thief or pirate that would be interested in my cargo tonight," the old man explained.
He had piqued her natural thief instincts. What if he was lying and really covering something of great value? "Who are you to say what is of value and what is not? You are in Gerudo thief territory. Allow me to investigate your cargo and then you may pass," Dora ordered.
She did not give the man an opportunity to reply before approaching the back of the wagon. Suddenly, it began to shift. What kind of cargo moved? What if it was a trap? It was a bad time to be weaponless, one of the last things she usually thought of when she took a moment to wallow in her self-pity. She froze and prepared to turn and run if there was danger. The old man driving the cart had not moved. "What is all the commotion Agahnim?" a voice questioned from beyond the canvas. She gripped her Triforce bearing hand tighter. Why did this voice sound familiar?
A boot stepped down from the back of the wagon to the ground, followed by another. Dora took a step back into the light of the moon and that of the lantern. He must have been as tall as the wagon. The covered wagon blocked the moonlight and shrouded him in darkness as he stepped around the corner. Dora immediately noticed that his left hand was also glowing radiantly. "This is not—." When his eyes fell upon her, he grew silent.
His voice was from her dreams, like a memory that she had forced herself to forget. The breeze of the cool night wafted his stale scent to her. He had not made a move against her and therefore she lowered her guard slightly. It was not one of her enemies, but in the darkness it was difficult to recognize him. Although she was filled with disbelief, who else would be able to make her shard of Triforce glow?
Dora took another step back, tempting him into the light. When he took the bait, she felt her knees lose their strength. It felt like forever since she had seen him, but she immediately recognized his amber hair and yellow eyes, strong chin and high cheeks, the thick aura of authority and confidence, and intimidating posture.
"Ganondora," he breathed, reaching out to her. Unexpectedly, she collapsed to her knees. She greedily took his hand in hers.
"That is quite the loyal wife you have," the old man stated.
"Agahnim," the King of Evil said, momentarily ignoring her. "Your long awaited success is appreciated. Stay with us for the night."
"I shall indulge myself, master," Agahnim replied before directing the horses that pulled the cart away from the pair, leaving them with only the moon light.
The hoof beats slowly died away. It took every ounce of effort Dora had to not immediately cry in his awesome presence. She looked up at Ganondorf and knew nothing she could say would be perfect for the moment, so she said what was in her heart. "I have anticipated your return for many years, my king. There is much that I have endured."
He squeezed her hand and pulled Dora to her feet. Ganondorf looked deep into her mesmerizing yellow eyes and could see the truth in her statement. "You have suffered much, my queen, as emotional as you are. Your loyalty will be well rewarded."
"To have you in my life again is all the reward I need, my love."
His hands found the silk soft skin on her bare waist and hers rested on his muscular chest. He pulled her against his body and was filled with overwhelming relief and desire. "It has been a long time since I held you in my arms."
"And the same amount of time has passed since anyone has held me," she professed, tears beginning to streak her cheeks again.
Ganondorf had dreamed of nothing but that moment since the day he was sealed away. The hair he ran his fingers through was just as soft as he remembered it. Her smell remained the same. There was no doubt in his mind that she had waited, however impatiently, for him to return. It would have been her own emotions that tortured her. She would have grieved with no possibility of moving on with her life. He kissed Dora passionately, indulging in her taste. "Life without you was not the same."
She gazed longingly up into his face. "I missed you dearly. No one is as glad as I am to see you finally come home."