Disclaimer: I do not own Legend of Zelda. Or Ganondorf. Hm, but I do own my guy here... even though he doesn't have a name. XD; Oh well.
Author's Notes: Okay, this will probably not continue as a series or anything. This is just sort of a one shot, made from an idea I once had for a Zelda role playing board. It sort of went into the look of a new Gerudo King who was originally innocent of any sin, but the true Ganondorf sealed himself away into the Triforce of Power (which the new king had) and slowly consumed his soul, turning him insane. Anyway, I hope you like this little story... thing! XD
Acknowledgments: This was written for my dear brother. Yes, you.
Amaranthine Requiem.
by usagi
Heh heh heh…
The deep chuckle vibrated inside of him, sending a cold chill up his spine. The auburn hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he felt something sinister swell in the darkest regions of his mind. It was a chuckle, low but echoing, and beyond the heavy breaths which exited his parted lips, becoming a cloud of white air, he strained to listen for the insanity of it all.
He could smell the stench of blood in the air, and his nostrils flared in revulsion… or was it excitement? Somehow, he felt torn between two combining forces and he no longer knew which was him; or were they both? The scene which lay out before him was sickening. He stood in the center of the kingdom, his bloody sword hanging by his limp hand, its tip grazing the now red polished floor. Red with the blood of those slain. Red with the blood of the dead littered around him.
Heh heh heh…
The darkness within his breast swelled again, moving around like the serpent it was. It took him a moment to realize the emotion was cruel satisfaction. But he… he, the man standing here in the middle of this massacre, was feeling a tremble of panic take hold of him. His breath continued to come out between his cold, chapped, and bleeding lips. It was harsh, echoing against the eerie silence that filled the room.
The hilt of his sword slipped from his numb hand, the solid metal clanking against the floor as it vibrated to an eventual stop. The sound was ominous, feeling to him like the loud key which finally turned the lock of his heart and opened the secret that he had refused to acknowledge until that very moment.
He'd killed them all.
And something within him coldly rejoiced.
The horrified scream of that filled the kingdom and shook the large glass windows, he would later realize was his own.
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He had no name, no identity. The fellow Gerudo merely addressed him as My Lord and whispered the name Ganondorf behind his back. The former was merely a title regarding his position as King while the latter had no real meaning; yet, for reasons he could not quite explain, whenever he heard the name something would stir in him. Move, tremble even. Oh, but not in fear as many who knew the name, but, rather, in exhilaration. Triumph. Anticipation.
This feeling with him, this thing festering, was growing stronger. On occasion, a guttural voice so fierce and chilling would break through the cloud of his mind and echo with a clarity that made his heart stop beating. While before, there mere echo of laugher could be heard, now it seemed the thing wished to talk to him.
He was a prisoner to his own kingdom. While the woman of the race would bow and murmur their polite formalities with him, he was controlled by the leaders. A puppet, he supposed. A puppet, to do their bidding. Today, it would seem, would be a prime example.
Nephthys stood erect beside the throne of their kingdom, her sharp red eyes focusing on him the moment he entered the room. The smile that twisted her lips up could only be described as hideous, dangerous, and spine-chilling.
"My Lord," She murmured with a bow which he felt always held a slight mockery to it. There was a calm certainty that always clung to her; a will that broke beyond the limits she was given in this monarchy. He hated her; a feeling he hardly granted anyone. But the cause of his feelings were just, given the fact that it had been her manipulation and stretch of power which had landed him in Hyrule's Royal kingdom, and the massacre that had followed.
He took his seat in the throne, only acknowledging Nephthys with the most subtle nod of his head. The thought of executing her for treason had crossed his mind, but he knew better. It wasn't just her who played him for the fool--it was the entire Gerudo population. A population solely made up of the female gender, with the except of him; a man born every one hundred years, once the old King has gone, and rightfully takes the crown.
Kill her.
The voice made him stiffen, and immediately his own red eyes flickered up to Nephthys in fear that she had somehow heard it. He felt his heart pump desperately against his ribcage as he caught her neutral expression, and how she simply stared straight ahead awaiting the council to enter and for the meeting to ensue. The initial fear was only to blame because he, himself, knew the voice was only in his head.
It only spoke to him. Only laughed at him. Only taunted him.
Kill her.
A tremble of anticipation crawled its way down his spine, and he felt the same thrill that it felt. He shuddered and closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring wide as he tried to control the unexplainable thought that was suddenly driving into his brain like a nail being hit by a hammer. He relished the thought, his blood turning hot while the darkness festering within him began that same eerie chuckle. Deep and throaty, dark and hinted with both madness and insanity. Somehow, he knew they weren't the same, and yet he had the deadly combination of both.
The council began to file in, a good thirty Gerudo women marching into the room with their sharp headed spears strapped to their back and their daggers tucked away in their belts or hidden in their boots. Despite the loud noise that filtered in as conversation picked up, the laughter only grew in volume until it masked out all else.
Fools.
The voice taunted, laughing with malicious intent. Suddenly, he felt as though the beholder of the voice was there, standing with him and watching the what he was seeing. His red eyes flickered down to the dimly glowing triangle on his hand, and in fear of others noticing it he tucked his hand away underneath the long, flowing sleeves. It felt…nefarious. As though it would give away the thoughts and thing within him. And he relished in both, his other hand curling in morbid delight against the arm of the chair. They were his possession.
Nephthys stepped forward before him, slightly blocking his view as she addressed her followers. Like all the years past, he was merely present and held no real voice in the meeting. His entire purpose was to sit in the throne, and perhaps pretend he did not hear the discussion before him. For years, he had been too fearful to do anything about the position he had fallen into. A King without power, in more ways than one. But today, the being within him disapproved. Its feeling of black rage consumed him, as did its power. He could feel its outrage, feel its thirst for revenge, for blood, for life.
Accept me.
It demanded. He obliged. Yearned. He accepted him with open arms. Perhaps, it was greed, or maybe something more. The only truth he could feel at the moment was the monster within him, as it slithered through his thoughts and his mind, as it coiled around his heart and consumed his head with his powerful voice. Power teemed from it, like an ever flowing fountain. Non-stop. The power was immense, and he obsessed for it. He starved for it.
"Ganondorf," He whispered in a breath of a laugh and the pact was made. Something within him snapped, and fire burst through his veins. The pain was immense, so much so he couldn't handle it. It flared within him like a great inferno, exploding with such force he believed himself torn apart. His mind began to splinter away, and beneath it he heard the ever escalating laughter of him.
But even then, dying as he was, he rejoiced with him. Half crazed, his own laughter spilled forth through his parted lips and he reached his arms up toward the ceiling, his head lulling back against the chair. "Ganondorf!" He shouted, his eyes wide and his pupils shrunk to pinpricks. Before him Nephthys and her council all grew deadly silent, their speculative eyes watching him.
His world went black as his consciousness was ripped back and another rushed passed him with barely restrained malevolence.
"Your King has returned," the Dark Lord intoned, his eyes snapping open to reveal two burning black holes.