A/N: Hello all. Just a note to say that there is rather graphic scenes in the latter half of this chapter; some may find it a little…. Intense to read. So, for those of you cautious about such material, be aware, and for those of you who have been following the story, waiting eagerly for a naughty thrill, press onward, my duckies.

The sound of metal shifting echoed off the walls, between the heavy boot-falls of an Iron Knuckle, lending an audible count to the seconds as the journey was both agonizing and slow. Zelda had been fetched from the drawing room, where she'd spent the better part of the day engrossing herself in her books—The taste of her captor haunting her lips still, much as she tried to ignore it.

She walked down the halls with unfocussed eyes, drifting in and out of her own inner monologue, near delirium as her situation seemed to be getting the better of her. Her heeled shoes swung lightly at her side, held by lazy fingers; Had she worn them, she would certainly have tripped as her legs felt weak beneath her. She didn't even know how she'd be able to manage eating, and she was surprised she hadn't been violently sick; every step towards Ganondorf's chambers was like a nail in her own coffin.

Dinner will be served in my quarters tonight, she could feel the words burning in her ears—Such unthinkably inappropriate situations that man put her in, sometimes… Barging in on her undressed, kissing her, touching her face… And now, requesting her company in his personal chambers.

His lack of decorum was both excruciating and shocking, and the Princess felt so out of place and caught unawares; no man had ever dared to treat her in this manner, it was foreign and she found herself increasingly unprepared. She sighed as she caught sight of herself while passing a suit of armour, in her distressed state, hair undone, barefoot, clothes askew and crownless. She looked broken, stripped of everything, even dignity; Hyrule's scrapped Princess, who had only one last precious thing of her own—Not given by Gods, not bestowed upon her. It was her gift to give, only once, and she knew already that he planned to take it, just as he had everything else. Her plans, she thought with a grimace, were turning against her the longer her Hero took, and at this rate she was going to break before Hyrule was saved.

The pair stopped in front of the ornate doors, as Zelda came back to reality long enough to raise her eyes and realize that she had reached her destination, the Iron Knuckle already turning to leave after a short bow. She gagged, fury and anguish bubbling beneath her pale skin, as her hand lifted to cover her quivering lip; She knew these doors.

These were once the doors of her father's personal chambers. I should have known, she thought bitterly, he would take the King's private bedchamber as his rooms… He does, after all, think himself the King. She took an extra moment to steel herself, clasping her hands tightly together and reigning in her personal turmoil, before raising a gloved hand to knock sharply. Her ears twitched as she heard movement inside, readying a faint smile for pleasantries sake as the door creaked open, revealing the object of her dread.

Ganondorf stood smug, leaning a muscled forearm against the frame—To Zelda's chagrin, also blocking the entrance and forcing immediate interaction. He grinned down at her, a light cotton shirt of Gerudo make— with red and blue designs covering his chest— in place of the normal tunic, his hair freed and falling in tussled waves over his shoulders, crooked from the tight curls. His golden gaze held a wild gleam that his casual appearance only seemed to enhance, and Zelda's hands found themselves clasped once again.

The Dark Lord's eyes flickered about behind her, before locking with her own. "Good evening, Zelda." He offered, shifting to allow her entrance. "Come. It's getting cold, we'll sit by the fire to warm you." His canines showed in his smile, as his hand rose to usher her in.

Zelda tucked a blonde lock behind her ear as she moved past him, "Yes, that sounds lovely… It is rather odd for me to be without a fire, recently, I'm so used to them." She almost felt relieved by the rush of warmth she felt as she broke eye contact with him—It was from the fire, but even without it, the sensation may well have been the same.

A few steps in, and her attention to detail kicked in. She'd never been in her father's quarters, of course she hadn't, but the décor was not that of the King's tastes; it was perverted, soiled, and now undoubtedly belonged to Ganondorf. She surmised that this was simply another subtle assault to her pride, as she noted anything that seemed out of place—She loved this room as much as she hated it, each artifact and decoration, even the furniture, was as brilliant to her as it was insulting. Worse than that though was the scent of incense burning, a spiced smell, earthy and rich, to match his and the taste that still stained her lips.

A heavy hand settled upon her shoulder, as a deep voice broke her away from her thoughts, "…You seem distant. Something unsettling you?"

Her fingers flexed, as she formed her response carefully. "No, I'm quite alright. Just taken with the atmosphere… It is rare that one is given such a fresh glimpse of another culture, especially in their own home." She turned to look at him, forcing a small smile. It was a feat that she managed to hide her offence, her tone even, "I suppose you could say it is refreshing, as if I'm discovering new rooms, though I've lived here all my life."

Ganondorf studied her face a moment, before nodding with a satisfied, though distracted look, "I'd imagine it must be difficult to see divergence of Hyrule's many lifestyles, when your world is safely contained within castle walls. A pity, really… Not all the majesty of the Earth can be found in books." A silence fell between them for a moment as the Dark Lord's gaze roamed the room as if he too were seeing it with fresh eyes.

Zelda couldn't help herself as her face softened, watching him; she knew that look, it was akin to her own when she'd broken free in her librarian escapade. She moved with grace, almost unconsciously toward one of the armchairs, running a glove over the material as her voice escaped her. "…I would think it more of a pity, to know such majesty and see it resigned only to books." It was a long shot, she knew, to speak about his culture—to even bring up their history usually left them in an argument—but if it would settle her, and perhaps delay an inappropriate encounter, she was willing to risk it. Of course, that didn't mean she was going to be reckless about it, and ruin her work thus far; caught between a rock and a hard place, she supposed, settling into the seat and watching the idle flicker of the fire as her shoes dropped unceremoniously to the floor.

Ganondorf had stopped any movement at her words, as if they'd frozen him in place. Her saving grace lay in their context, as those words could well have been an icy barb, yet she delivered them in a warm and almost sympathetic fashion. He stared at her from the corner of his eye, tongue darting behind his teeth, trying to form a response, anything to avoid her realizing that she'd caught him off-guard. The longer he tried, the more a sting settled into his chest—She'd struck a nerve, though neither truly realized it.

When he suddenly moved again, taking a chair beside her, his movements seemed hasty, as if he used it as a substitute for another action. "You are correct." He started with a reserved tone, low and strong. "And in that sense, you will never truly understand such a thing. Remnants left upon pages can be studied to heart's content, but will never relinquish the feel and experience that the soul yearns for, beside it." A high handed response, but perhaps enough to shift the subject, he thought, uncomfortable with the sudden focus upon his losses.

Zelda licked her lips thoughtfully, resolute in pursuing it. "I think I'm receiving quite enough experience, with a living piece of a history that I have always studied feverishly, popping into my life right before my very eyes as if straight from the pages of a dusty old tome." She cocked an eyebrow at the Gerudo, daringly. "I'd say I am coming to understand you quite well, actually." An old surge of pride flowed through her, as her posture straightened, hands folded upon her lap. She did love these moments, where she truly felt in her element. She suppressed a smirk as he gave a tired sounding sigh, taking to leaning upon his elbow, chin betwixt thumb and forefinger.

He shot her an odd look, and something in his eyes melted her confidence a little. The Gerudo's attention turned toward the fire, breaking eye contact with her. "Zelda, it is a sad day when you take your dealings with me, odd as they may have become, as a representation of my people or an understanding of my culture." He shook his head lightly, scoffing to himself in response to whatever else was on his mind. The Princess could only stare at him, trying to decipher what he was thinking about, when his eyes caught hers.

Her surprise was evident upon her features when he began to elaborate, serving her an answer on a silver platter. "You Hylians have always had a tendency to take things at face value. I was a king amongst thieves and harlots, by Hylian opinion, and as such the only ambassador that would be accepted, and even that came with thinly veiled distaste. I doubt my voice would have even been heard by pointed ears at all, were I not groomed to be considered civil by your standards." He bit out the words bitterly, a sneer of disgust taking his lip.

Zelda could see the memories flash behind his eyes, and her breath grew shallow with the restraint in his voice. She'd be lying to herself to say she wasn't taken aback, even knowing more than she let on; her idle hands now moving by themselves to pluck at her dress, twisting the fabric lightly in her fingers as he continued.

"I was taught to speak Hylian; I learnt and conditioned myself to your mannerisms, gestures, even your humour. I had to change my entire personality to that of a Hylian to even step foot within the Castle Town." He scowled, staring down the dim flames. "I spent a sizable amount of my life little more Gerudo than you are, thanks to the prejudices of your ancestors. Now, I am the only one remaining." He growled out those last words, as Zelda considered him silently, studying his strong profile.

She cleared her throat softly, nervous to speak. "That may be the case…" She started, reaching out a hand to rest upon his forearm, "But I enjoy you for what you are, so different than myself or what I know to be familiar. You have an exotic intrigue that captures me, much as my love of history and poetry have in the past; I stumble upon them and need to know more." She sighed, retracting her arm when she realized it had little effect in settling his agitation, and took a more direct tact—which also served to let off some steam, ironically.

"When I met you, I thought you were rude, cruel, and tenacious, with a vicious temper and enough bloodlust to match a hungry beast. I find it difficult to read your body language, as well, so that makes you seem exotic and unpredictable to me." She chuckled, "You haven't changed much since then, either. But I suppose I've grown used to it enough to focus on what makes you interesting to me, rather than intimidating." She couldn't help the smile that took her lips at the look he shot her; an odd mixture of annoyance, shock and amusement.

When the expression settled, a smug half smile took its place. "That's very bold, Zelda." He rumbled, a hint of laughter behind his voice as he lifted a brow towards her, shifting to face her more.

The Princess simply laughed, waving a hand in front of her as if to dismiss his comment. "Honesty and good communication is the key to strong, healthy relationships, is it not?" she chimed with some mirth.

Ganondorf couldn't help the suspicious snicker that passed his lips at the notion, as he stood to make his way over to a cabinet. Fetching a couple of glasses, he pulled a bottle from an ice bucket, inspecting it before pouring. "Provided it isn't a relationship of convenience, I suppose." He shot her a playful look, but the words quickly prickled Zelda's skin with hidden meaning.

She watched him curiously as he approached, handing her a glass, "…Oh, well… Yes, I suppose convenience is rather fashionable these days. All the younger people are indulging in it." She shot back with a humourous lilt. A soft clink of glass rang out between them, as Ganondorf reclaimed his seat, reclining with some relief that the subject had drifted off positively.

His fingers twitched upon the glass as he swirled the liquid inside, deciding rather quickly that he didn't like the feelings that she stirred when talking with him about such things. He had a dangerous suspicion that if he allowed it, she may well be able to sooth some of his older wounds, but he could never let that come to pass. His rage and pride were the fire that kept him alive, the reason he breathed—He lived for revenge, for vengeance and satisfaction. His people were gone, and only he remained; The moment he gave in was the moment his people truly died, and as long as he lived and fought, in a sense, so did they. He was going to burn the glorious memory of his people into Hyrule's very soil, take the land they deserved, and deliver punishment for what they had endured. He wasn't going to let the fires of his malice, his fuel, be doused by the sympathies and soothing words of a Hylian Princess, of all things, too little too late.

Zelda had settled some, enjoying the warmth of her liquor and the fire—Perhaps her paranoia was somewhat unfounded, for the moment. Content as a comfortable silence passed between them, she couldn't help but turn over his little spiel in her head, thinking back to the time and wondering, truly, what would've transgressed.

The Gerudo were not from Hyrule Proper at all, but she recalled her country was not divided into provinces at the time, though the fiefdoms did exist with contested borders. The Gerudo tribe had inched closer to the fields around the time the races were united, under the Hylian King Juliard Ferrus Hyrule with the aid of his advisor and another leader—Namely, a Shiekan elder and the Gerudo King, who was sitting beside her. It was then that borders had been established for each race, and their leaders swore fealty to the Hyrulian throne. Ganondorf had taken his place as an advisor to the King twelve years later, when the Shiekan elder had passed away, and only a short four years before he was put on trial for conspiracy, high treason, and other crimes. Despite this, however, she was aware of the fact that the Gerudo borders had been set in the unification as well, preventing further advancement and restricting them to the desert.

The Princess quietly gazed upon the object of her thoughts, sipping lightly from her glass; It is little wonder he is so bitter, she acknowledged, given that he has a major hand in Hyrule's prosperity, though was shared none of it himself. A fingernail rapped idly on the glass as the doors opened, letting through several monstrous servants who were to set a small table across the room. She watched them, sifting though the Gerudo's motives mentally. Why help build something he is to destroy? But as the scent of their meal filled the air, she found she already knew the answer—If he cannot have it, no one shall.

Her attention had shifted back to the Gerudo man as he stood, and offered her a hand, "Shall we, Zelda?" He smiled. With a nod she rose, allowing him to guide her as a chill ran through her spine; Did this mentality also apply to her? She couldn't help but wonder, as she was seated once more, whether she was unwittingly providing him the edge he needed to topple the Hero, something truly precious to him, that he would fight to the end for—Her.

The Dark Lord set his glass down, peering at her from over the small table. This was their first meal together that lacked any real formality, though he could easily tell she was far from relaxed. He wasn't about to comfort her though, from what his intentions were she had every right to be nervous, the little actress; Besides which, he quite liked seeing her squirm, or rather, try not to. Perhaps I should be open with her more often, if it has this effect, he snickered in his mind.

He also noted the small amount of food she had gathered onto her plate, clearing his throat to inquire. "…Now I am convinced there is something wrong. You are hardly eating anything." He quirked a brow and gave her a concerned look.

She almost jumped, torn from her thoughts, but was quick to recover. "Oh… I apologize; I suppose I'm just a little under the weather today…" She took a sip of her drink and steadied herself, realizing that this was a feeble sounding excuse. "My dream rather unsettled me and I've been out of sorts since, as you've probably noticed, by the state I'm in…" She chuckled weakly, gesturing to her lopsided attire.

Ganondorf gave an understanding nod, though continued to study her, his gaze unnerving the Princess with its scrutiny."Yes… Out of sorts…" He mused, seeming hesitant to continue.

Zelda waited expectantly, but the Gerudo merely resumed his meal, causing her some concern. After a minute or so, it got the best of her, and she pushed her plate aside, finished with it. "Ganondorf, don't take that the wrong way… I meant what I said to you earlier." She offered, guessing as to what was on his mind. She watched him as he paused a moment, also setting his unfinished plate aside before fixing her with an odd look.

"Zelda, I don't want to doubt that, but this is a delicate situation we're in…" He plucked his glass from the table and stared at it. "…If you aren't in the right mind today, then how am I to truly know it won't change tomorrow? I can be very patient, but that is only when I know such investments will pay off." He took a long breath, looking thoughtful, and clucked his tongue. "Even then, how am I to trust anything you say at all? We are, by all rights, enemies, though I have shown you great clemency despite our situation. I would not like to find, down the line, that my affections for you were simply manipulated."

Golden eyes locked with her own, cornering her, as Zelda's heart began to quicken. He was beginning to catch on. No! I'm losing him! Say something! Zelda's mind was screaming at her as she tried to keep the panic from her face. "Of course not…!" She said quickly, if a bit too defensively. She closed her eyes for a second, forming the words. "…Ganondorf, I am well aware of who we are, and how difficult this may become in the future. But I would not suggest our coupling unless I was genuine in what I felt; what reason would I have to fabricate such a thing? Naturally, I would be expected to despise you, and any union of ours would never be accepted. Surely, I wouldn't be willing to face and struggle with the damning judgments that will come of this, if it was all some sick game, would I?" She was pleased with how that sounded, mentally congratulating herself as the Dark Lord's expression seemed to soften; it still held a harshness to it, but Zelda knew now that it always did.

She smiled gently at him, trying to give the reassurance he obviously needed—In the back of her mind, it both amused and saddened her to think that he may be afraid of rejection. Her stomach almost flipped when she heard his chair legs scrape across the stone, only for him to get up and walk toward a window, staring out at the grey sky with his back to her.

"Zelda… You claim to understand me quite well…" His voice was calm, drifting upon the warm air to reach her ears as a light rumble. "Do you honestly think that I would not play such a 'sick game' were I in your position, being that I could probably slip past my enemy's defenses and gain an intimate knowledge of them… Perhaps even their trust… And use it against them, at the opportune moment?"

A thick and foreboding silence fell, and the Princess knew she had no choice but to answer, tracing her finger around the rim of her glass nervously. "…No. I am sure you would, given the chance." She sighed, feeling utterly defeated. A minute must've passed before she stood, the noise of her chair harsh upon the atmosphere, as she padded silently over to stand at his side. She inclined her head to look at him, though he continued to study the heavens, bleak as they were.

With a long breath, she slowly began to remove her gloves, placing the silken garments on the window sill without gaining so much as a glance from him—The cold emanating from the window pricked at her skin, though she knew he would notice. She had once read a passage in a book about the Gerudo culture, in which it stated that to bear one's wrists was to show vulnerability, and was a very intimate act of trust, one she knew would not be lost on him. "But on the other side of this, you have been given that chance, just as much as I. You could easily betray my affections, fully intent on breaking my heart and will. I choose to give you the benefit of the doubt, however, because I've come to know and care for you, just as I can only hope you've done the same." She placed a hand upon his large bicep, his arms crossed in front of his chest as they were, and watched their triforce marks flicker at the contact. She'd never lied to anyone like she did to him, and she only hoped he couldn't tell, now that he might be suspicious. "Doubt is a luxury neither of us can afford, if we are to overcome our history."

The Gerudo twitched at the feel of her flesh upon his, rather than silk, noting its intent immediately. A flash of anger shot through his mind, though he was also impressed—using his own customs to manipulate him was a bold move on her part. He glanced down at the offending hand, deciding on a course of action. What a pretty speech, the corner of his mouth twitched with sarcasm, unseen, For somebody who just got caught, she certainly is persistent, isn't she? Well, if she wants to play the culture card, I'll take my invitation.

He shifted, capturing her small hand in his, and turning to look upon her with a faint smile. "It is reassuring to know your opinions on the matter…" He raised the bare fingers to his lips, brushing against them and seeing relief dance in her eyes. "All things happen for a reason. Perhaps this is our destiny; together." His free hand snaked about her waist, drawing her closer, with each word, into his embrace. Zelda smiled up at him, playing along as he knew she would, "Perhaps it is, indeed." She almost looked smug, like a child getting her way, as her hands settled on his chest with her head tilted back to look up at him.

The Gerudo couldn't hide his smirk as he dipped his head, tasting her lips delicately as she shifted against him, standing on bare toes to allow extra height. What a sweet moment this was, a perfect duet of lies. No sooner did their lips part, did he lift her—with a surprised yelp—into his arms, so that her legs fell either side of his torso as he looked up at her, carrying her toward a small doorway. A heavy boot to the door opened it swiftly, and Zelda, who had actually let loose a surprised giggle, clung to his form and didn't register which room they had entered; not until he had set her playfully down on silken linens, staring up at a wooden canopy, did horror wash through her.

Her smile faded immediately as her crystalline eyes frantically assessed her situation, façade gone for the moment as she lay sprawled upon the large bed— His bed. No… Please, Nayru, no…Not now, not yet…Don't make me do this, please…But her pleas went unanswered as the Gerudo removed his shirt, crawling atop her as if his body were a cage.

"G-Ganondorf, what are you doing?" She stuttered, pressing her hands against his chest once more, though now to keep her distance as much as possible. Her gut twisted painfully as he smiled down at her, his hair blocking everything from view, tumbling around her like a waterfall of blood.

"Now, now… I know you must be nervous, but you'll come to enjoy it soon enough… I know you trust me…" He purred, voice rich with lust, lightly brushing her wrist with a finger before bringing the large hand down beside her head. The Princess' breath hitched in her throat as her mistake became evident, cursing herself for her carelessness—She had only considered what the gesture meant among Gerudo women, not realizing that baring her wrists to a man might hold a different connotation. She cringed as he buried his face into her neck, warm breath tickling her ear, "I'm flattered, usually you Hylians are so resolute in marriage, beforehand…" Zelda bit her lip, as tears threatened to blur her vision. "Not only do you give yourself to me now, but you petition it according to my custom… What a wonder you are, Zelda…"

She could feel him grin against her collarbone, as she prayed to any god that may hear her for this to stop, inevitable as she knew it was. She shivered with the well placed kisses as his hand drifted up her side, sliding over her breast to cup her shoulder, pulling the fabric aside to expose more. His lips descended to cover new flesh, as the Princess retreated within herself, closing her eyes to the world. She felt his other hand move beneath her, arching her back over his muscled forearm and pinning her against his torso, his warmth bleeding into her.

Was it worth it? Her own voice betrayed her inside her mind, forcing her outwards again, Look what you've lowered yourself to. His body shifted, as deft fingers worked to loosen the strings at her back. No! He tricked me! This wasn't supposed to happen…She argued hopelessly, as the hem at her bust-line was slowly pulled away. None of this was, the voice said coldly, You brought it upon yourself. You're not the Hero, and you'll never be able to take his place…Then her mind was silent, leaving her to face reality alone as a rough hand cupped the supple flesh of her chest. Zelda gasped, not fully realizing her exposure, and writhed beneath the touch of her captor, earning a smirk from him.

"…Like that, do you?" He asked tauntingly, running a thumb over the nipple. A noise escaped her throat that she didn't recognize as her own, though the Gerudo took it as an affirmation, flicking his tongue across the nub cheekily. Zelda swallowed hard, sucking a breath through her teeth—She felt filthy, already; soiled, though it'd only just begun. She stared at the pillows at the end of the bed, refusing to look down as he continued his torturous assault upon her body. She felt him shift again, as even her meager distraction was stolen from her, his hand gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him—She could almost see herself reflected in the sheen of his eyes, dark with delight as they were. It sickened her, as the image flashed through her mind even as he ravaged her mouth with his own. That taste once again coated her tongue as he claimed it, and she doubted it would ever leave her palette afterward, as his hand ran down between the valley of her chest and over the creamy flesh of her stomach.

Ganondorf could feel her twitching beneath the skin, taught and lithe as his fingers ran the length of her midsection, wanting to go lower. How sweet she tasted, like vanilla mixed upon the wine she'd had, and he was bathed in her scent, something of a ripe cherimoya… It suited her, as if she were a forbidden fruit for his picking. Indeed, it seemed she was, falling carelessly from the tree and into his hungry grasp. He broke their kiss to trail down her jawline, drawing deep of her as her tussled hair brushed against his cheek.

He felt her stiffen nervously as his touch drifted beneath the fabric pooled at her hips, and couldn't help but chuckle into her ear. "…You'll love this…" He teased, as a tilt of his wrist slid his finger beneath her undergarment and through the light tangle of modesty to find its purchase. With a gasp, Zelda's body jerked at the unfamiliar touch, her thighs clamping together in fear and aversion. Her brow creased exertion as she tried to ignore it, but she was outclassed, and Ganondorf found no difficulty against her instinctual defense. With each nip to her neck and twitch of his finger, warmth and a shock of desire spread through her like hellfire.

She could feel his sharp canines against her skin, scraping against it with such control yet could easily break the surface and draw blood. The arm beneath her back had shifted, sneaking a hand within reach of her chest once more. It was all growing too much for her to deal with, inexperienced as she was—He was overwhelming her, both physically and mentally, as she found she could no longer stifle the whimpers passing her lips. Lusty chuckles fanned hot against her neck, as the pace of his most intimate caress grew faster, soon tearing a breathy gasp from the tortured Princess.

Zelda bit her lip, as something snapped within her—It was happening, and she wouldn't be stopping it now, so why resist? At the very least, it was pleasurable, and perhaps she could lose herself within the haze enough to lessen the strain of what was being done to her. It couldn't be rape if she allowed it. She was still in control. Everything was going to plan, the Hero was unhindered and would be here soon enough, and this hellish charade would end. And that was the reasoning that slowly, much to the Dark Lord's delight, opened her thighs and beckoned him to explore her entirety. Her head turned look at him, caught in his golden eyes as she grinned a delirious smile.

Ganondorf faltered for only an instant, surprise flashing across his face as he caught sight of the genuine want within her. A dark grin twisted his lips as his touch delved down to her core, slick and inviting; She must be delusional… or buying her own con, He thought with intrigue, running his tongue across his teeth, Let's see if she has finally cracked. He pressed against her thigh, letting her feel his desire, tight against the fabric of his pants. "Tell me, Zelda…" He purred, brushing his nose against hers, "Tell me that you love me."

Her eyes flickered against the haze of passion, though they bored into his with a disturbing clarity when her murmured answer came. "I love you… Ganondorf." She was still smiling with those sinful, greedily curved lips, as her hand rose to curl slender fingers into his twisted mane.

Smile while you can, little Princess, He gave her a wicked smirk before dipping his head, and tearing into the flesh at the base of her neck with ease, teeth drawing the crimson liquid onto his tongue.

Zelda yelped as pain shot through her shoulder, slamming her down from her high as she gripped his arms, nails biting into his dark skin. Her eyes shot wide as she felt his tongue lapping at the blood he'd spilled, rivulets staining her hair; The bastard bit me! Was the only thing that ran through her mind, in shock. She watched as he pulled away, red smearing his teeth with droplets fresh against his lips as he looked down at her, tongue darting out to swipe the excess greedily. A primal fear shot through her, and she shuddered, feeling like cornered prey as something wild glinted in his eyes.

He drew himself up on his knees, running his gaze over her properly, as if sizing her up—Zelda lifted a shaky hand to her shoulder, feeling the wound as saliva and blood mingled on her fingertips. The Dark Lord's hands gripped the bunched layers of her dress, coiled at her hips, and pressing a hand to her stomach, ripped the garments away with ease. Zelda could only stare at the blood on her fingertips as she felt her body roughly freed from her clothes, and finally, her underwear, digging into her hips harshly as it was torn away.

For a moment, she felt suspended in nothingness as the sight of her blood seemed to warn her of something, a feeling of unease spreading through her belly. His hands settled on her hips, as she looked down to find him at the ready, positioned between her legs, now naked as well. Her brow twitched as she caught sight of his member, and she instantly held a morbid curiosity for the appendage; Zelda had never seen a naked man before, and it seemed so alien to her that it looked juxtaposed to the rest of his sculpted frame.

"Say it again…" The Gerudo rumbled above her, drawing her attention. Zelda stuttered, confused, as her eyes searched his. She could feel the tip of him pressed threateningly to her entrance, and took a shaken breath, bracing herself. "I-I… Love you…?" It came more a question that an answer, as Ganondorf brushed her lips with the lightest kiss.

"I love you too." He whispered, before cruelly thrusting into her unprepared core with a swift, harsh motion. The scream tore from her lips before she could register what had happened, tears stinging her eyes as the Dark Lord hovered merely an inch from her face, enjoying every second. The Princess' body instantly jerked away from his, trying to remove the intrusion, but to no avail, as he pushed even deeper, earning a squelching sound from between her thighs as blood began to seep through their union.

Zelda was distantly aware of a hand running soothingly through her blonde tresses, as she realized the two of them had stopped moving for the moment, a sharp ache throbbing through her lower stomach. She felt as though she'd been stabbed, as she took each ragged breath as lightly as she could to avoid aggravating her condition. Her vision was blurred and unfocussed as all her senses converged to the unpleasant sensation; It was gone. She'd never regain her innocence, and no man would want her again… Not without a lie to cover what had happened, but even then, knowing that she'd been alone with the Dark Lord, doubt would arise as to her purity.

Hot tears ran silently down the sides of her face, trickling into her ears to stifle her hearing, making everything sound distant. Ganondorf shifted slightly, making her cringe with the burning ache that pulsed through her, a cry hitching in her throat—He, however, gave a light, breathy moan, not unlike the ones she had made just minutes before. How dare he.

Ganondorf was enjoying himself far more than he should've been, he knew that—She was so tight around him, every tiny movement causing a flurry of contractions to massage and squeeze him inside of her… And the very fact that he could feel such ecstasy in causing her so much pain was a beautiful thing, poetic and far sweeter than he had imagined. So fresh was she, that his entrance had almost been painful against the strength of her clenching, and with his large size he had to put quite a lot of force behind it. The feeling of her virtue literally tearing in his wake was sublime, and he felt a surge of disappointment that he'd never be able to do it again… Not with the same majesty and symbolism as this, taking her in her father's own chambers.

He shifted slightly again, drawing out of her slowly, watching her face contort with discomfort as he stroked her silken hair. In this moment, she was truly beautiful to his twisted mind. "The first time is always uncomfortable, Zelda…" He soothed, hiding his glee, "It's best to break the maidenhead quickly, rather than worry it." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, brushing his thumb along her temple. Her legs were trembling on either side of him, and he knew she was in considerable pain, trying hard to keep the smirk from his face as glassed eyes looked up to curse him silently.

He leant down, pressing his lips to the bite mark upon her shoulder, and sucking fresh blood to the surface, earning a whimper of protest from her throat. The metallic tang of her essence on his tongue only served to arouse him further, as the fingers toying with her hair lowered to tease her breast once more. Her fingernails bit dangerously into his biceps, leaving tiny scratches in their wake as her body revolted against him in every way—He could practically taste the rage and anguish bubbling in her blood, as he slowly pushed his length into her again. He relished the strangled noise caught in her throat, her body rigid beneath him, massaging the supple mound within his grasp. Ganondorf ran his tongue over the bite, stinging the wound, as he began to move within her with a light rock of his hips, allowing her ravaged insides to flutter around him autonomously.

Zelda twitched and shuddered at his intrusive movement, gentle as it was for the moment, as a pace was slowly set between them. It was still unwelcome, causing a dull ache as her core convulsed, but gradually, it was becoming tolerable as her body grew used to him. She'd settled into a tense silence, chewing her lip and trying not to let her pained yelps and gasps escape, a confusion growing in her body as it tried to decide which sensations were more powerful; The intruding pain caused by her impalement, or the soft caress of his hand upon her chest mixed with the licks and kisses at the crook of her neck.

As her grip upon his arms eased, his actions grew stronger, accompanied by the odd grunt of pleasure or rumbled sweet nothing. In her fogged mind, she thought with distaste about how romanticized it had been, in the novels of her youth, for the heroine to lose her virginity in a secret tryst with a dark and handsome lover… How foolish that notion seemed to her now.

Each moment passed with an agonizingly slow speed, as her body became more accommodating and allowed for faster thrusts, mingling pain with subtle pleasure until they reached what must've been a normal pace—Ganondorf's hands began to wander, clutching lustfully at her body, from her chest, to her hips and thighs. He took her lips in bruising kisses, his tongue teasing her own and teeth clashing, tearing her icy pink lips and smearing them red where his fangs ripped them. He buried himself deep within her, moaning and grunting as he became fevered; Zelda couldn't help but respond in kind, as the pleasure spread like wildfire under her skin, dulling the pain.

Draping her arms around his neck, she clung to him, allowing her body to move against his, returning his efforts with a soft buck of her hips. With each thrust, she could take him to the hilt, as gasps turned to moans and breathy pleas for more, hitting a special place within her that made her spirit soar. She smirked as he choked out her name, muffling the sound against her neck, tickling the skin as their bodies slammed together in guilty passion. She felt so disconnected now from what was happening, as if it was no longer her body; She was growing unaware that the Dark Lord was having his way with her, or that she was Hyrule's Princess, or even that there was a Hero out there who would be repulsed by all of this as he sought to put the world right.

Something was building inside of her, unlike anything she'd felt before—A pressure, like a glass filled to the brim and about to overflow. Ganondorf growled out her name shamelessly now, and she swore his name had left her lips as well, as something primal had overtaken them, rhythm lost as they chased that building paramount of desire. She had his skin beneath her nails, her thighs were sticky with blood and her shoulder stained with marked flesh, but it all seemed unimportant as that feeling finally took her over; Her body twitched and convulsed, drawing her lover close and gripping him with all her might as tingling warmth flooded her, like waves of water, and let her feel as if she were falling out of her body and into paradise. Within this sensation, she was vaguely aware of Ganondorf's heavy frame giving a few hard jolts against her, undoubtedly spilling his seed within her and soiling her completely, though in this strange, sanguine moment, she found she didn't care.

As she slowly came spiraling back down from her heavenly ascension, her breathing was erratic, and her body felt sticky, with her hair mussed and tangled beneath her—Flecks of blood had dried in her dirty blonde locks—and her lips were swollen and held a light pulse. She could hear her heart beating in her ears and her inner thighs were slick with blood and arousal, her body bare and starting to bruise slightly around her hips. There she lay on the silken sheets of her father's bed, with her most hated enemy. He had crawled off of her to collapse onto his back, looking quite satisfied beside her, relaxing with his eyes closed. She stared at his profile as a crease formed in her delicate brow, not fully believing what had just transpired as the pain in her loins came crawling back to haunt her, as well as the dull throb of her shoulder.

Zelda's crystalline gaze turned toward the canopy, tracing the grain of the wood to occupy her mind; anything to distract it from the empty feeling she was left with. She swore she could taste bile at the back of her throat, bitter upon her tongue, as she felt the bed shift—Ganondorf had moved toward the basin, and was cleaning himself off.

He flicked her a glance, cocking a fiery brow, "There's a clean washcloth here for you to use." He dried himself, getting under the covers for an early night's rest, it seemed. She slowly rose to a sitting position, grimacing at the discomfort, and struggled to the basin, wetting the cloth and running it over her shoulder. She bent, wiping away as much evidence of the whole sordid affair as she could, thoroughly disgusted as bloodied water ran down her legs. A deep sense of shame and despair had settled within her, a few tears breaking free as she dried herself off, unseen by her captor.

She sighed, taking a few wobbly steps, when his rich voice drifted lazily across the bed. "Make yourself comfortable, Zelda. There's little sense in escorting you back to your tower, now." The Princess didn't want to be near him, now that passion's spell had worn off, but didn't have the strength to argue the point. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, she silently moved beneath the covers as well, the silk gliding over her skin in false comfort as she settled onto her side.

Zelda lay there for what felt like an eternity playing over the ordeal in her head, as Ganondorf's breathing became shallow and even, and sleep took him peacefully. Tears rolled from her eyes freely, silently, without sadness or anger. She felt empty, forsaken and alone as her goal began to blur before her. Hyrule would be saved… But it seemed, the more time passed, Hyrule's Princess may not be saved along with it.