Disclaimer: I don't own Zelda.

Ganondorf sat on the precipice between life and death. The Master Sword had split the body, pierced the mind, and obliterated the soul in one fell stab. That Ganondorf was capable of thought was a testament to his willpower, any other being would have died by now. That overpowering will to live had kept him alive for so long now. Ganondorf did of course know that while he had defied even death itself this entire time, his life was ending rather quickly. That iron will was now fraying rope, twisting away into weaker, more easily destroyed strands. So many thoughts flooded him as he lost his focus, but the one line of though Ganondorf wanted remained prominent.

Death was imminent. Naturally, any mortal being was more than willing to consign themselves to the belief that they would live forever. To them, there was always the chance that their life would go on forever. Fools. Ganondorf had never submitted to such ignorant doctrines. From the start he realized that he would die soon enough. Perhaps though, that was not so much the intellect of Ganondorf as it was his upbringing.

A people reflected their environment, and the Gerudo could be considered no different. Eternally harsh and unforgiving, destroying the weak and any traces of their miserable existence. The desert was prone to sudden change, yes, but it always ended up the same. Were the Gerudo much different? How could they be? The desert had taught them to fight for survival. And those that could not fight… the desert swallowed them. Everything had been miserable in that forsaken land. Life stood at a standstill, and death was everywhere. From the burning winds of the day to the frigid gales of the night, there was death. No plants could find root in the arid soil, and during the more nomadic periods of the Gerudo, it was not unusual for half the population to simply collapse. They were not dead, but they were left for dead. No one could survive in that merciless desert and look after another person. It was simply impossible.

How different it had been in Hyrule. That gentle breeze that whispered across the vast fields of green, eternally bursting with life. Everywhere there were trees, vegetation, animals; life itself was contained in those fields. To go from that godforsaken wasteland to those pristine and lush plains… Ganondorf could not help but covet the land of Hyrule. It was the most fascinating of lands. Yet the people within it, how ungrateful they were! They cared not about the beauty of their land. Money, power, and social status were all they cared about. The fields were avoided like a plague, and regarded as inconvenience. That realization of the Hyrulians' lack of respect for their own land was perhaps what sparked in Ganondorf the desire to attain absolute power. He would make them appreciate their land. How ironic then, that in his efforts to get the people to steer away from their frivolities of life, Ganondorf became induced into them. Soon he chased power to build his empire. And in his time of power, that one small era in which he reigned, he took Hyrule and corrupted it. Those green fields were avoided out of fear of Ganondorf's forces. Even the ranches dared not ride out onto the plains, for Ganondorf could always have used another horse.

And where was Hyrule now? Beneath the ocean, damned to never see the light of day. And it was Ganondorf who had been the cause of that. He had cast his shadow over Hyrule, and the gods responded with their torrential rains until Hyrule was an echo across the sea, a sailor's tale really. Soon, Hyrule would not even have its bubble of existence. The magic that had made the sunken Hyrule its own little world was pierced by the Triforce. The burning rays of the sun would never come forth. Hyrule would be submerged forever on the ocean floor, eroding away unto nothingness. All that grandeur, and it would be gone. The rain came down, thought it was not really rain. It was simply the ocean beginning to rush through. His beloved land would be gone forever, along with his stain on the world. Ganondorf smiled faintly at the knowledge that after all of his efforts, all that he had done, the millions whose deaths he must have caused, the deep scars he had unleashed upon the worlds, and all the shadows he had cast, the stain of his existence would soon be gone. There would be no knowledge that Ganondorf, King of Thieves, had existed.

Perhaps a half a second had passed between Ganondorf's receiving his injury. The many tangents in his mind were beginning to reunite into one comprehensive thought, and a cry seemed ready on his lips. There was something about this moment, amidst the rains that fell to Hyrule with the force of knives. For now though, one question did form itself in Ganondorf's mind.

Was it… worth it? Have I truly done anything? Did I shake the very foundations of the universe? Ganondorf took only a second to consider the questions. He had already answered them. If his existence could be wiped out by the Triforce, his impact was minimal. What had he done that someone else might not have? The bittersweet irony rang true. Ganondorf, bearer of the Triforce of Power, King of Thieves, once King of Hyrule, god to the pathetic insects that meandered about on this trivial planet, whose power had forced the gods themselves to bow down to his wishes, had made no impact. His influence on life itself was no greater than that of the common man. What he had done was undone, and there was nothing left. Everything was being washed away with the rains. Yet…

Amidst the profound despair that Ganondorf had kept about him throughout his life, there was yet one final thought. It consoled him in his final seconds of life, bound to the oppressive chains of mortality. Perhaps Hyrule had not reemerged. Perhaps the people of the future would not know the name Ganondorf. But for now, that did not matter. The present was all that mattered, and what use was a future in which he did not live?

Ganondorf laughed lightly at the cruelty of it all. The Triforce had granted him his wish, even if not in the way Ganondorf had hoped for. He had won the battle, and he had won the war. There was the so-called Hero of Winds, who had so "valiantly" murdered Ganondorf with one quick downward stab. Yet what did we have? Hope? Hope was useless, for it would gain nothing. Hyrule was lost to his generation forever. They would never sully its lands. All they could do was search in vain for another land, a land that could never compare to Hyrule. Ganondorf began to laugh just a bit louder at the thought.

He had won. Truly he had won. He was now King of Hyrule. In the realm of the dead, of the departed, he would reign. He was the last echo of the ancient land. And the one who dared to call himself king? He had betrayed his own land, and it was due to that betrayal that Hyrule now was slipping out of existence instead of resurfacing from the floods. Hyrule had been given to him. And perhaps the Hero of Winds did not realize it, but with Hyrule came one treasure that Ganondorf had always coveted. Something profound, beyond hope or life. To die to receive this gift was a fair trade in Ganondorf's eyes. So long he had sought it, and now he had it. It was his. It was all his. It was bidding farewell to Ganondorf, powering the rain that was its tears. It had known, and Ganondorf had known. It was and always would be his now. Ganondorf would die, he would simply fade away like the rest of man. Everything he had hoped to accomplish ended in failure. None of that mattered. Ganondorf choked out the words to express how he felt, to tell his slayer that he had died at peace.

"The wind… it is blowing…"