A few short days, and the light cough garnered from the musty air of the cells had developed into a feverous illness, Zelda's coughing now crackling and burning her lungs. The Princess had slept for the most part, and simply remained in bed otherwise, listless and lonely—Not to mention recovering from shock—over the first two days. A familiar Iron Knuckle brought her up any meals, though she had become temporarily vegetarian, and poured her tea from the silver tea set that adorned her end table—It seemed humourous to her, seeing the hulking warrior pour tea for an ailing Princess, but sadly, she still didn't have the heart to find joy in it.
The Iron Knuckle, having been on guard outside of the dining room the other night, was more nervous about Zelda than ever before; He'd heard the cackling as it echoed down the hall, followed by crying. Since, the beast was unequivocally scared of the tiny Princess, knowing full well that she must be eccentric and unstable, and that fact coupled with his Master's affections was a dangerous thing should he make a mistake. Whispers and gossip quickly spread throughout the ranks, and though their beastly tongues would not be understood elsewhere, any monster who was to cast an ear toward the castle would hear talk of the 'Mad Queen'.
Finding no purchase in sleep, Zelda lay coddled in the silken sheets and covers of the large bed, bleary eyed and tired. She was obviously in mourning, though no cloak would hide her pathetic state this time. Sniffling lightly, she traced a slender finger over the cut upon her stomach—It was the least healed, stressed by movement and her coughing while the rest were no more then subtle scratches now. Each seethe and splutter caused it to throb with a dull stinging, and it marked and highlighted the burning feeling of her diaphragm.
On the upside, Ganondorf had given her a wide berth over her sickness, leaving her to rest without disturbance; He came by to check on her once a day, and returned to sleep at night. His chambers had become a sort of sanctuary; it was so different from anything she knew, like a piece of Gerudo country had been placed in the castle, that it made her feel sheltered and far away. Far away from anything that had happened… Every trace of her father in the room was gone as well, and she was glad to feel hidden from his eyes, even in death. She knew she'd have to set foot outside soon enough, in a white dress, and smile; She wasn't sure she could handle that, let alone have her ancestors watching her in every other waking moment. But, she had to—Not for the sake of marrying Ganondorf, but for the peace of her people. As cliché and childish as it sounded, in Hyrule, when she smiled, the world smiled with her. She owed them that much.
Holding her chest as her frame was wracked by another coughing fit, she reached out, curling her fingers around the delicate cup. Warm milky tea was comforting with its sweet taste, soothing her throat and warming her belly. She sighed, leaning against the mahogany bed head, the wood cool upon her bare shoulders as her eyes traced the patterns upon the china. Zelda knew she had to do something; She couldn't continue to mope about in bed all day and night. Taking another sip of tea before placing the cup aside, she shifted, peeling the covers back and turning weakly to slip her legs out.
Even as her feet touched the stone, it was barely cool, the room warmed by the fire—She had guessed that it was magically fueled, not requiring wood to burn and holding a steady, constant flame. She stood slowly, wobbling slightly on weak legs, and gained her balance before taking a careful step, making sure not to collapse as she had before; She was pleased to find herself strong enough to walk about. A smile ghosted along her mouth as she walked gingerly toward Ganondorf's private bookshelf, eyes already spying a few volumes with potential.
Stopping in front of it, her toes wriggled upon the small rug, and breathing deep of the smell of incense and parchment, the Princess ran her fingers down the spine of one tome, considering it. She needed something new, something to throw herself into to feed her habit—Her old friend, that duplicitous book of legends, of childish stories, had been put to rest. Cremated, in fact; the symbolism of the act had even put her at some ease with her new lot in life. Blinking, she glanced at the shelf just above her head, reaching up in interest to pull a tattered black book into her grasp; It was different from the others, well worn and in questionable condition. It almost looked like a diary, and held no title or any clue as to what was inside, smaller than the others and fragile with age.
Intrigued, Zelda opened it slowly, cradling it in the crook of her arm like a child, turning a blank, stained page to reveal its contents. Her brows furrowed as tired eyes tried to discern the faded etching upon the sepia-tone; this was a personal sketchbook.
Turning automatically, she returned to the bed, engrossed in the odd find. The first few pages held sketches of a castle, familiar yet she'd never seen it, it wasn't the one they were in now… Though, the architecture was unmistakably Hylian in design. Pulling the covers around her, she set the book upon her lap, taking up her cup once more as she flipped through it, mesmerized.
She traced her finger lightly upon the aged ink lines, her heart warming with the familiar beauty of the images—Whoever the artist was knew exactly how to portray the serene majesty of her land, admiration in every stroke, and without error, each sketch showed painstaking attention to detail. A courtyard, she thought fondly, as she came upon the rendering, How beautiful it is, too…such a harmonious looking place, with the water and the flowers; I could sit upon those steps and enjoy them all day. As she flipped through each page, the more she looked upon, the more a genuine smile took up its place on her features for the first time in quite a while. Ah, the western fields! She brought the small volume closer to her face, as the ink had been smeared around the edges, likely having water distort the scene. And look at those beautiful wild horses, the rim of the cup was held ready at her lips, Such a shame we don't see them roam there, these days…You'd have to go to the lands of Eldin to see them, now. Sipping at her tea, Zelda was content within her own little world, enraptured with borrowed memories of a bygone era.
The hours went by quickly, absorbed in her unexpected treasure, as the Princess delved into the world upon the pages—Hyrule, simplistic lives, healthy rivers, small populations… Virgin vistas undefiled, still maintaining all the majesty and beauty of the Goddesses' touch. It saddened her to think how much things had changed since such an age; How could anyone, God or mortal, allow such paradise to be tainted, disfigured or taken for granted?
It occurred to her that the artist had owned this book, adding to it, over a large portion of their lives, as slowly the pictures began to change. The strokes grew vicious, the hand behind the quill impatient and spiteful, as the once admired land, delicately crafted by skill, was torn asunder by the rage and corruption contaminating the artist's imagination. After watching the depicted land fall to ruin, the art turning from loving strokes to frustrated scratches, Zelda found a few pages torn out at the end, before the drawings ceased altogether. Her heart fell with sorrow as she realized who the artist must've been—Especially when she heard him enter his rooms, her ears twitching as she heard movement beyond the door.
A shock of panic ran through her, as she looked around, holding the book dumbly. She turned at the last second, opening the drawer and stashing the book within her end table, closing it quickly. Within that very second, the door opened, revealing a disgruntled looking Gerudo King, and Zelda—Caught in the odd pose of leaning over the bed and reaching out—Covered her actions quickly by pouring another cup of tea.
Thankfully, he hadn't shot her so much as a glance, strolling in with a sharp slamming of the door behind him. Something was clearly bothering the man, as the Princess watched him with fresh eyes, easily picking up on his body language. He sat in one of the plush armchairs beside the fire, slumping and rubbing his temple lightly with a gruff sigh; almost as if he'd forgotten that she was even there.
Zelda grew curious, and a bit concerned, as she cleared her throat, stirring a fleeting look from the Dark Lord; "…Tea?" She offered meekly, unnerved by his agitation.
She received a grunt of ascent, as the man looked into the fire with perusal. Eager at an excuse to get up again, she poured his cup full, and proceeded slowly over to the other armchair, setting the tea upon the small side table between them. A momentary and trivial pride passed through her—She hadn't spilled a single drop, even in her condition. Gazing into the fire, she wondered if she should try to put the Gerudo in a better mood, or whether that may irritate him more; She didn't need to incur another 'behavioral adjustment', though if she consoled him, he might tell her what was troubling him.
Zelda tugged at her slip, picking at the fabric as she fortified her courage, taking a long breath and peering over. "I am recovering at a good pace…" She began, carefully. "The warmth and rest seems to have done me well, I should be able to move about the rooms without worsening, now." She stared at him intently, gauging him.
Ganondorf glared at the fire, his thoughts interrupted, and rested his chin in his fingers. "…Good to know." He growled dismissively, grimacing as the words came harsher than he would have liked. Seeing her flinch out of the corner of his eye, he sighed, shifting in his seat and reaching for the cup of tea. With a slightly softer tone, he rectified himself. "I am relieved to see you out of bed. At least the fever seems to have settled." Glancing over the rim of the cup, he took a sip, willing the drink to calm him.
Truthfully, he doubted anything would steady his frayed nerves besides her company, oddly enough—It was half the reason he had retired early. The only problem with that, though, was the fact that if he wasn't careful with his temper, Zelda might catch on to the reality he'd tried so hard to isolate her from… He felt threatened. Unbeknownst to his prize, the Hero was alive and well, Master Sword in hand and traversing the mesas of his homeland as they spoke. The Gerudo was wise to have Zant shatter the Mirror, preventing the boy from getting any further… But with that wretched blade and his human form returned, he was roaming free around Hyrule, doing as he pleased; A constant nuisance that, as it stood, put him at an impasse. He couldn't back down, but neither could he continue his dark designs for vengeance without any punishment being thwarted, leaving him only two options: Face the boy and chance defeat, continuing on to impose the suffering of his people onto their oppressors, or hide the Hero's existence from Zelda long enough to be married, and sacrifice Zant beforehand, setting aside his anger to pass as an acceptable king.
The ultimatum had plagued him since bringing the Princess back, though especially today, after learning of the Hero's progress; Seeing Zelda's sacrifice pay off had tempted him to throw her in the dungeon again, and it was little wonder he was being short with her. He'd decided, not long after locking her in the cells, to play it safe until he could decide—Allowing her to believe the Hero was dead would buy him the time he needed, as well as prepare her for becoming a suitable wife. This was why he had forged the boy's hat, smearing it with blood— When he had seen her stand, still resistant, he could've smacked her though the wall in frustration. Fortunately, he was a resourceful man; casting an illusionary spell on the baby carrots in the broth, to make them appear as human toes and fingers, was the final touch he needed to push her over the edge. It had worked a charm, and he wouldn't allow his own foolish temper to give it away now.
The Princess felt some relief as he corrected himself, happy in the knowledge that she was not to be a victim of his ire. "Yes, it has… I was growing rather tired of being confined to your… our bed." She forced herself to remember, careful of him still. Feeling awkward, she took to her tea, holding it and allowing it to warm her hands. "Are you alright…?" She probed lightly, "You seem tense." She blinked, dropping her gaze to her cup submissively as his head snapped towards her, looking as if she'd insulted him.
"I am fine." He ground out slowly, his left eye threatening to twitch. Quickly restraining his panic, he added, with a sigh. "…I've had a difficult day." He admitted, glaring at the fire once more.
Zelda tapped a finger silently upon the cup, curiosity getting the better of her. "Would you…Like to talk about it?" She offered hopefully, sending him a sidelong glance. His jaw moved subtly as he seemed to consider it, Zelda's head slowly turning toward him with interest.
The Gerudo eyed her with some suspicion, shifting his thoughts onto a substitute subject. "No, not particularly, Zelda… It will only leave me feeling foolish, dwelling on things that should simply be left to the past." He lied, trusting the aversion they shared for discussing their history.
The images of the sketchbook rushed through the Princess' mind, and she came to a swift conclusion as to what had him so worked up. Nodding softly, she spoke. "…You visited the desert today… Didn't you?"
Ganondorf raised a fiery brow, intrigued by the guess—Apparently, she could still sympathize with his losses. Apart from that, he was pleased that her interpretation of his mood was not an incredulous one. Choosing to play along with it, curious, he glanced at his cup. "Not that the affairs of my country have ever been of any real concern to a Hylian, besides war and adultery…" He said high handedly, somewhat bitter. "But I suppose you expect me to humour you, betrothed as we are." He shot her an odd look, sipping the tea slowly.
Zelda bit her lip lightly, a sting of guilt passing over her once more—It was like having her epiphany in the library all over again. "I won't pretend that the treatment of your people was particularly fair; You have every right to be resentful, just the same as I for what I've suffered at your hands, in turn." She sighed, gazing at the fire. "The ruins to be found where the Gerudo once resided do not speak kindly of the truth. Fear and hatred can grow from a single seed of doubt, or misunderstanding, and one might argue that your actions only served to promote that growth." She confessed, regret evident in her voice.
Ganondorf scoffed humourlessly, giving a sarcastic sneer. "And I imagine you'll next be telling me that the path to Hell is paved with good intentions." Perhaps this wasn't the best subject to let her prattle on about, he thought with disgust, Gods only know, we'll be 'bonding' next.
Zelda frowned some, tapping a chewed nail on the china impatiently. "Fair or not, you were bound by treaty during the unification, and swore fealty to the Hyrulian Sovereign thereafter. You may well have held the welfare of your people as a high priority, but to throw away their security in your recklessness, and put their only recognized leader—Yourself—in jeopardy, is inexcusable. We Hylians may have set the stage for the Gerudo's downfall, but it was you who damned them when you failed to insure their survival in the event that your plans were exposed…" She glared at him. "Which they were."
To say that she hadn't struck a painful nerve would be an understatement, as raw anger flashed across the man's face dangerously. "Well, aren't you feeling adventurous today…" He hissed through his teeth, considering a punishment immediately.
Zelda didn't seem bothered by it, as she softened to continue. "I know you don't want to hear it. But I understand… Because I have done the same, in a sense. You and I, we are more alike than we would care to admit." She smiled ruefully, noting how his muscles had tensed, like a cobra about to strike. "We both gave everything we had, only to end up destroying what little chance we had to protect what we held so highly above all else. Now, the Gods have left us naught but each other; the last vestiges of balance in a bleak world." Blinking tiredly, she peered up at the Gerudo to find he had settled some, a twinge of confusion in his golden eyes, amongst anger and apprehension. A world of our own making, truly, She thought, studying her fiancé with a wistful look.
Ganondorf listened, bristling at her words, though grudgingly accepting them. He hadn't expected to be chastised—He was somewhat impressed that she'd spoken to him so frankly, and without notable bias, though he never did take criticism well. If she wants to talk facts, fine; "Be that as it may, how exactly do you propose I was to go about ensuring a 'fail-safe' for our survival?" He shot back icily, scrutinizing her with an accusatory glare. "The fact of the matter was, Princess, that we Gerudo were not surviving to begin with. If no action were taken, however reckless it may seem, we would have met our end within the reign of the next King, regardless. We were starved, diseased, and our currency could never match the strength of your country's economy. Every step we made was matched by prejudice and distrust, and even after our alliance, we were kept at arms length to be worn away by the desert winds. A Gerudo in Hyrule, if not on official business, licking your licentious ancestors' boots, or fighting your battles for you, would be arrested for theft before even laying a finger on a rupee in the gutters."
He sneered, turning his hateful glare to the fire. "My failure did nothing more than quicken the demise of an already terminal race."
Zelda shifted nervously, knowing that she hadn't helped his mood at all; Instead, she seemed to give him the excuse to turn his agitation back upon her. But she was desperate to get to the source of his pain and douse the fires of his rage as much as possible, for that was the only hope she had of bringing mercy of any kind to the innocents in the world below—They were a diverse people, and much more accepting, different from the hierarchical society of old. They did not deserve to inherit the atonement owed by their predecessors. "Is that why the land's beauty grew tainted, in your eyes?" She questioned softly, going out on a dangerously thin limb. "So resentful were you of us that you began to believe we were unworthy of our blessings, and your admiration for Hyrule's prosperity and nurturing splendor grew into an envious rage…" She flinched as his eyes returned to hers, something akin to murder burning in his irises, inquisitive and furious that she knew him so well.
Should I tell him I saw the sketches? She asked herself, unable to tap into her Wisdom to weigh her thoughts, No, look at him… he would most likely flay me alive for such a breach of his privacy. Truly, she'd glimpsed a very intimate part of the man's inner workings, and he would no doubt react negatively if such insight was revealed. Biting her lip, she finished tentatively, "…I am sorry for our selfishness." She wouldn't pity him, or press the issue further—She could only give him the genuine apology his people deserved, even if he was the only one to hear it. Maybe one day, she'd get one herself, when all was said and done.
The Dark Lord, slightly taken aback, tried not to let it show, his mind racing to decide whether this was favourable or not. Staring at her, he could feel his anger slipping away, the corner of his mouth twitching. He had sworn he wouldn't allow her to soothe him, though he was forced to recognize that, by some twist of fate, he had sought her out for exactly that—something to ground himself on, to comfort and steady him, easing his stress and frustrations. Zant's warning echoed in his mind tauntingly as he shifted in his chair, mentally squashing the thought; So, she is simply a more useful tool to me than I'd expected, He reasoned, justifying the action to himself, There is no harm in it, so long as she remembers her place. It's not as if I'll allow myself to fall into the deep; If anything, she is simply acknowledging my right to rule, which is a part of my goal. He made a point to ignore the fact that he had somewhat confided in her the troubles that had plagued him in the last age; he was merely defending his actions and proving her wrong yet again, nothing more. After a moment, he gave her a curt nod of acceptance, returning his gaze to the flickering fire as he took another sip of tea.
Zelda smiled lightly to herself, satisfied that she'd finally managed to take the edge off. It was also likely that she'd just set them off to a positive start in, what could potentially be, a peaceable and mutually beneficial arrangement. Her apology had been accepted and he hadn't struck her—Somewhat victoriously, she raised the cup to her lips, hiding the smile before he caught it. For the first time, a genuinely comfortable silence passed between them, content in silent company despite everything they had done to one another. It was ironic that two beings, so strongly and naturally opposed, had forged a bond of understanding such as this; Twisted, and even disturbing, though it was, they were forming an odd companionship. As the couple watched the dancing flames, Zelda finally broke the silence, piping up with a definitive and vague tone.
"Lilies."
Ganondorf paused, lifting his head and throwing her an odd look. "…Lilies?" Cocking a brow at her, the Princess simply nodded.
"Yes, lilies. For the wedding… I think having a theme of lily flowers is acceptable, given the amount of death, recently. But, I would like to think that it's also symbolic. The death of an era, as it were; leaving the old to get on with the new." She straightened the hem of her slip as she spoke with a casual tone. The Gerudo seemed to find this humourous, smirking with amusement. Zelda was relieved to see him perk up, and chanced some grim wit that made her stomach cringe in memory. "And I want a vegetarian menu. I'll not have you eating people at the reception." The tone of seriousness slipped through, which only served to pull the Dark Lord's smirk into a mischievous grin, a dark chuckle escaping him.
"Very well, Zelda. I believe I can allow that, given that a wedding is supposedly the 'happiest day' in a Hylian woman's life."
The Princess sent him a sarcastic look, before an odd thought struck her. "May I ask you something?" The Gerudo clicked his tongue, glancing at his empty cup. "…Only if you pour me another drink." Zelda rolled her eyes light-heartedly, taking the cups with her as she stood, making her way over to the bedside tea set. What am I, a servant? I'm supposed to be recovering, She mused internally. "Well…" She began, pouring the cups full, "I was just curious to know about your customs concerning marriage." She lifted the drinks carefully, focusing on her balance as she walked—Gifted with natural grace, she was doing well not to spill any of it. "I can't say the books I've read have shed much light on the subject, unfortunately." Handing him his cup, she settled back into her seat, tucking her legs up cozily.
"No, I wouldn't expect so." He admitted, taking a sip and considering how to explain the matter. "Truth be told, the Hylian concept of marriage was actually somewhat… taboo, in our culture. As a result, I'm not surprised there is little documentation on the phenomenon."
Zelda's brows furrowed with interest. "Taboo?" She repeated, the notion sounding strange; Obviously, not enough to deter you, she thought with disenchantment.
"A wife," He elaborated, "At least in the age in which I was educated, was to be considered the legal property of their husband under Hyrulian law. I'm sure you are aware of this, given how opposed to the idea you were initially." He smirked, earning himself a tired look from his forced fiancé. "As I was saying, to be a spouse is to be owned, and in that sense, considered lesser than and dependant on your male counterpart. You can imagine the reception that ideal might get in an all female clan, made up of proud warriors, who frequently matched and even surpassed most men in skill and ingenuity. To marry was considered an insult to your own sisters, as well as self-depreciation, and so was exceedingly rare." He peered into the cup, tilting his head in remembrance. "It wasn't as frowned upon for the King to marry, provided his spouse was not Gerudo. I can literally count the weddings I've seen on one hand, and none of them were happy occasions; usually political, or the result of an abduction or blackmail."
The Princess grimaced, not getting the sort of answer she'd hoped for. "...Lovely. It is nice to know that I am having a traditional Gerudo wedding." She joked darkly, sympathizing with the views of his ancient sisters.
Ganondorf didn't seem to get it, making an evasive hum and hiding behind his tea.
All things aside, talking about their future made it seem less foreboding to Zelda, and she was coming to realize that the more time she had to plan for it, and being appraised of what was happening, made it much easier to deal with on the whole. She really didn't want any more surprises. Setting her cup down, she sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes lightly before running her fingers over her forehead and into her hair, frowning slightly with dissatisfaction as she pulled a tangled lock forward to inspect it.
"…What did you do with my hair brush?" She questioned suddenly, frustrated by its absence.
"I threw it, out the window." He said simply, trying to hide a small smile.
Zelda stared at him, mouth ajar. "May I ask why?" She was clearly agitated, and the Gerudo snickered.
"No."
A naughty, childish grin wormed its way onto his face as the Princess glared daggers at him.
"Can I have another one?" She spat, her agreeable mood lost comically over a simple hairbrush.
"…No." He said, as if the very word was delicious on his tongue, chuckling as Zelda's temper continued to sour, her cheeks red with the want to slap him, doubtless. "…Alright, if you're a good girl… I'll consider replacing it." He jibed, smirking victoriously before sipping his drink.
Zelda clearly bristled at the condescension, much to his amusement; A good girl? What a perfect ass. No doubt that's just a sneaky way of saying, 'if you bed me again', She thought, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. "Fine." She hissed, like a cat in water.
Ganondorf, deciding to add insult to injury, set his cup aside, patting his thigh invitingly. Zelda looked affronted, staring at him like he'd grown another head. "I'm quite comfortable, thank you." She said quickly. He raised a brow, sending her a look that spoke volumes. "…I'm not." With a sigh, she picked herself up, stepping in front of him as he shifted and gingerly sat upon his knee.
Apparently, it wasn't good enough, as a muscled arm snaked around her waist to pull her into him possessively. At least he's not wearing his armour, she thought, wriggling uncomfortably against his furred tunic. Her eyes shot wide when he grunted behind her ear, and immediately froze, realizing the effect her movement was having. Tucking her legs up, she curled against him, trying to pretend he was an uncomfortable chair while feeling insulted and awkward. One of his hands settled on her side, making her twitch as she stared at the fire.
"…Can you pass my tea, please?" She squeaked meekly, intent on ignoring him as much as possible. He complied, Zelda snatching the cup from his hand quickly.
She took a mouthful, sitting in silence as a few minutes passed; The last lap she had sat on was her father's, as a small child, and loathe as she was to think of the two men in the same reflection, she couldn't help the memory. Two months to mourn the fallen; Her father had been the first to fall, and would be the last to be mourned as she realized, she'd never even paid her respects. His grave was contained in the grounds below, in what was once his favorite garden, along with the graves of the soldiers lost in the attack on the castle. Beside the lively flicker of the fire, whispers began to float upon the air, images flashing across her mind; They called to her, tugged and clawed at her trapped soul, like the demons of the dungeons below. The more she tried to ignore them, the stronger they became, as it steadily grew too much for her to process; The Dark Lord's invasive touch beginning to roam.
As his hand moved to her hip, her thoughts blurted out, though she knew it would likely anger him. "What time is it?" She almost snapped, craning her neck to look at him.
Ganondorf blinked, brows furrowed. "It couldn't be later than the seventh hour… Night has only just begun to fall." Running her tongue along her teeth, she took a nervous breath. "Can you… grant me a favour…?"
The Gerudo quickly became wary, his back straightening, as he growled his reply. "A favour? What the hell could you possibly have in mind?"
Zelda flinched, rubbing the side of her cup for comfort, not quite believing she was going to request such a thing. "I was hoping that you might… escort me about the grounds." She said quietly, looking down to avoid eye contact. "I wanted to pay my final respects to those that have passed… Consider it a wedding gift, if you must." Her ears twitched as he said something under his breath, chancing a glance at his face she could tell by his expression that he wasn't in the mood.
"I will take you in the morning, Zelda." He said dismissively, "It is cold outside; you'll catch your death."
The Princess twisted in his grasp, resolute—She'd been in a fragile state of mind over the last few days, and for some reason, she couldn't bare to wait; She needed to do it now. "Please… You can forget the hairbrush, I do not care…" She pleaded, facing him, "Do this for me now, and we will be wed in a single month. You gave me that time to mourn… indulge me, just this once."
The Dark Lord tilted his head, studying the look of anguish and desperation in her eyes; perhaps his legions were right, she had gone mad… And if that were the case, this might prove interesting. He let out a long sigh through his nose, deciding to play along and see where this went as he raised a hand to her face, brushing her flushed cheek.
"…Just this once, eh?" He smirked, narrowing his eyes. "Alright, my dear, I will indulge you. Get up." Zelda's lips split into an eerie smile as she stood, splashing the remainder of her tea in the fire and setting the cup down, eager to go.
The Gerudo stood slowly, offering her his hand—As she took it, a rushing blur enveloped them, like the day he had caught her in the library. It made her feel nauseated, closing her eyes against the shift, but when they stopped, she felt something draped around her shoulders; A black velvet robe.
Blinking as she adjusted, wobbling for a moment on her legs, Zelda looked around to find that they now stood at the front of the castle, beneath the monolithic sculpture heralding the Royal Crest. Her crystalline gaze grew frantic, taking in every detail that seemed so estranged, breathing deep the dew-like scent of fresh, crisp air. The vision of stars peeking out from behind darkened grey clouds lay distorted beyond the golden barrier, a chill running down her spine as it reminded her of the death and rebirth she'd endured; So that's what it was that pulled me back from the Heavens. Her hand slipped slowly out of his, slender fingers gripping the soft fabric of the new garment for warmth, pulling it closed over her sensitive chest.
"Lead the way, Zelda… Or are you too busy star gazing?" Ganondorf's voice rumbled beside her, impatient.
The Princess jumped, remembering his company, and turned to him, "Oh, yes… I apologize, you know I haven't seen my home from the outside in quite a while. I never realized how easy it was to forget such a thing so quickly…" She gave him a saddened smile, gesturing to the western wall. "I believe it's this way…" With a stoic nod, he held a hand to her back, ushering her along at a slow pace; He missed the fire already, he was never fond of the cold. Moving off the cobblestone, Zelda couldn't help relishing the feel of earth shifting under her bare feet as they passed through the archway, moving into the older grounds.
Both of them paused as their destination came into sight, headstones scattered across the disturbed dirt by the dozen, erected in haste as some jutted out at strange angles. Ganondorf stood there only because Zelda had stopped, while the Princess, suddenly drained of enthusiasm, was struggling with the grim scene. These were the men who had died for her, each grave staining her hands with its blood. She swore she could see the fleeting specters, drifting lost between their world and the next as an eerie fog rolled over the dirt, illuminated by the filtered moonlight and golden glow of magic. She was not unlike them, though merely gifted with a body while they remained immaterial.
This place was cold, far colder than the night air, the chill of death soaking into these grounds as their breath fogged out before them. Occasionally, there lay an empty grave, unfilled; she wondered, with sorrow, what had happened to those bodies, graves waiting for them. In all likelihood, they had fed the beasts of Twilight, or become one of them. Far at the back, beneath a large marble statue carved with care and standing proudly above the others, lay her father at rest. Glancing sidelong at her companion, though, she reminded herself that it was more likely he was turning in his grave.
Steeling herself, Zelda clutched at the Gerudo's wrist for some support, as she cautiously took a few steps, surprised that Ganondorf allowed her to pull him along at her own pace. He was watching her intently, gauging her every action and reaction to ascertain just how far gone she was, if at all. A cruel thought breezed his mind, considering spitting on her father's final resting place—Not just for her reaction, but for the sheer satisfaction of the act.
The Princess gazed distantly at the headstones as they walked between them, her eyes scanning each name scrawled with so little care, all of them forgotten and unrecognized. Nobody would remember them, think fondly of them, knowing what they had achieved before a meaningless death; their families would've moved on by now, as each man faded from Hyrule's memory. Passing the edge of the forgotten graveyard, the odd pair would finally come to stand beneath the proud statue, standing in reverence as vines began to crawl across the marble, crisscrossing over a mournful epitaph and the engraved title: His Royal Majesty, King Dartanian Lysius Hyrule.
Zelda stood, silently running her fingers over the marble, pushing a few creeping vines aside. Father… Her eyes were closed as she tried to reach out to him, mentally searching for his presence. It wasn't there. Perhaps the barrier was keeping his spirit at bay, preventing his return to her, or he had simply moved on, without the heart to watch his kingdom fall. …Or maybe he has seen my actions, and abandoned me here, thinking I had given myself over to darkness, corrupted…After willing him away, ashamed, for so long, she now wished, remorsefully, that his spirit had remained. What might he have thought of his beloved daughter, before passing into the Goddesses' care? She hadn't stopped to mourn him, to give a farewell, and now it seemed she'd left it too late; She truly was alone. Her body shivered, the sting of her throat becoming unbearable as she succumbed to another coughing fit, holding a hand at the base of her neck in false comfort to the burn.
The Gerudo scowled behind her, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder. "There, you have paid your respects. We're going to return to our quarters before your own stubbornness gets you killed." He was growing impatient with her illness as it was, kept awake at night by her pathetic coughing as she tossed and turned with her fevers. His expression only darkened when her head twisted sharply, glaring at him with glossed eyes, a pitiful sob caught between suppressed spluttering.
"…He isn't even here." She choked out, the words devastating her to speak them.
A cruel sneer crossed Ganondorf's lip, jerking her shoulder in annoyance. "You mean to tell me we came out here for nothing?" He growled viciously. "What a waste of my time."
Zelda hurled her weak fists at his chest, a knee-jerk reaction as her emotions of grief and despair overcame her. He caught the second one, tugging her closer to get a grip of her, before suddenly, her free hand swung around to slap him. To the shock of both of them, it connected, as their movements halted.
They stood a foot apart, staring at each other in disbelief; Zelda's heart fell with fear, her blood turned to ice in her veins. Taking a single step back, unconsciously, she saw his eyes flicker with rage and turned, taking off, fueled by instinct into a sprint. She didn't look back as he roared behind her, and despite her best efforts, he caught her within a few strides, clamping a large hand around her wrist painfully and spinning her on her feet. The action prompted another hit to his chest, and threw the both of them off balance with a struggle as the Princess tried desperately to wrench her arm free. As she took a step backwards, however, the earth crumbled beneath her, causing her to stumble and fall backwards; Ganondorf had lunged to grab her in that instant, and the momentum sent them both toppling, with a shriek, into an empty grave.
The Dark Lord's heavy frame pulled them into the loose dirt with a heavy thud, a blunt shock of pain coursing through them upon impact, falling beside one another, limbs strewn and tangled. Zelda cringed, her weakened body not fairing well from the fall, curling slightly in discomfort as her tears slipped free. Her bruising arm was gripped tightly as she was roughly jerked onto her back, the Gerudo moving quickly to trap her beneath him, pinning her. He was seething through his teeth as he glared down at her, his hand moving slowly around her neck; he truly considered snapping it like a twig and ending this farce, once and for all. The Princess trembled beneath him, tears rolling down the sides of her face as her breathing became hitched and ragged, feeling the dangerous fingers trace her jugular. At that moment, unbeknownst to either, the same thought ran through their minds—This grave could soon become my own.
Zelda was the first to speak, her voice soft and helpless. "I don't want to be alone…" Just a whisper between them, it hung in the air heavily, fog rolling from her lips.
Ganondorf's expression softened slightly, though he was still clearly angry, holding her with a hand ready to kill. Zelda's lip quivered, her mind dredging up every painful experience she'd endured at once, and her heart broke under the weight. "You promised…" She whimpered, "…You promised nothing like that would ever happen again… to protect me…" Her body shook, as she felt his grip lessen, unrestricting her breath.
The Gerudo stared at her hatefully; She was doing it again, breaking through his defenses and quelling his rage—With his own words, too. His jaw was tensed painfully as he tried to save it, build up his fury, but it was steadily slipping through his fingers, just out of reach. It seemed the sight of her like this held too much sway over his twisted mind; her fragile beauty shining through her discomfort and fear, shedding crystal tears, hair mussed and skin stained by the kiss of dirt. Her pain was like a drug, intoxicating his senses and satisfying his thirst for vengeance.
His hand shifted to her jaw, sweeping a thumb over the moist line her crying had left upon her cheek. "I told you that coming out here at this time of night would irritate your condition… You are ill, and the fever has played havoc on your mind, yet I took you anyway, did I not?" He growled, as if speaking to a child; If that didn't count as protectiveness to the fickle girl, then she'd just have to deal with it.
Zelda sniffled, nodding lightly.
The Gerudo's expression settled into a more usual one, "I keep you company, ensure your rest when ill, take you to a grave I deserve to spit on and the thanks I get an audacious slap to the face? Do you really think that your behaviour has been acceptable?" He questioned, regaining control.
Zelda bit her lip, settling, and shook her head weakly, "No… I… I apologize…"
Ganondorf closed his eyes, sighing with exasperation, determined to turn this into something useful as the last of his anger faded. Opening them slowly, he fixed golden irises upon hers. "Actions speak louder than words." He whispered, with a sinister undertone.
The Princess' eyes widened, hoping she was not headed for the dungeons again. "Please, Ganondorf, I'm sorry. You were right, I… I owe you more than that…" She stuttered pleadingly, starting to believe what she was saying. Her gaze wavered, following a strange urge that she hoped would set this whole mess right; tilting her head up, her lips would brush his cautiously as she brought her hands to his chest.
Feeling the willing lips upon his own, the Dark Lord stared at her with a hint of disbelief, a surge of victory washing through him as her smirked against her kiss. She was definitely mad, but in the best kind of way, he decided, claiming her mouth hungrily.
Zelda accommodated him as their situation advanced, finding an odd comfort in it—He was the only person she had, the only thing she knew… And giving him liberties he shouldn't have been entitled to made her feel less broken inside, less alone. He still loves me, she thought desperately, feeling his touch slide down her stomach, After everything, he must still love me…Or I would be dead, in this grave as a corpse and not a fiancé. She'd struck him, with no punishment… ran from him, with no punishment. Instead, an apology and a kiss had seemed to suffice, settling even his infamous temper right before her eyes, in a matter of moments. There was no other explanation in the Princess' cracking mind, and she used that thought to justify the stirrings of calm and familiarity he was invoking in her.
Her legs parted of their own accord as his fingers swept the inside of her thigh, bringing back the memories of the pleasure he could give her; She wanted to feel it. The Gerudo shifted, breaking their kiss and turning his head to nip at her neck, teeth tracing her collarbone as he realized the bite-mark still scarred her shoulder. How lucky for her, he thought, It seems her body reformed with the memory of her state that morning. He'd be lying to say he wasn't slightly disappointed, missing the opportunity to spoil her again, but he was rather fond of that particular scar. It marked her as his.
"You're going to enjoy this far more than you should…" He purred, his breath fanning over her skin with warmth.
A strange laughter escaped her, soft and humble. "…I know." She admitted, draping her arms over his shoulders, letting herself enjoy an overdue embrace.
Once again, his hand found its prize, caressing her gently as a primal tingle tickled her spine. She remembered it well, the bloom of desire in her stomach; how sweet it had been before the pain had replaced it, the first time. A gasp escaped her, his masterful strokes bringing forth those fleeting glimpses of heaven as his lips traced her collarbone, pleasing any flesh they touched; She marveled at how he, so vicious and cruel, was also capable of being tender and gentle. It made him seem all the more human to her, not the monster the world thought he was; this was all the evidence she needed to know that she was correct—He was just a man.
Men were prone to change.
There was still hope for her... and for him. Even as her core gripped invasive fingers, Zelda's mind circled the concept of redemption, fueled by the lonely ache and the mounting pleasure. Her hand slipped down over his shoulder, tracing its way down the front of his tunic—He was too taken by lust to notice her touch move beneath his clothing, tracing the scar left by his execution; the Gerudo ignorant of the thoughts her actions were betraying. How cruel this world has been to us both, that this is the only happiness we may ever afford…forced to seek it from each other… Those were the words that echoed in the woman's mind, twisted beyond outside recognition were she ever to voice them as her own, time passing quickly in a blur of growing passion.
When Zelda's attention again turned outwards, Ganondorf had shifted atop her, his wanton need pressing at her entrance, released from its material bonds. Her slender fingers brushed affectionately across his abdomen, as if trying to soothe the old wound. "Gently, this time, if you please…" She murmured, giving him an oddly fond look. Ganondorf paused for a moment, sparing a curious thought to the bipolar switching of moods he'd seen in her, just within a day; He didn't know what exactly was running through her mind, but it was obviously in his favour. Don't question a good thing, He scolded himself mentally, any concern vanishing instantly as the sensation of entering her took hold of his full attention.
Zelda winced, bracing herself, and though it was uncomfortable as he pushed in, no real pain came of it. Nothing tore, she didn't feel sullied—You're going to enjoy this far more than you should; his words rang out in her mind with new meaning. She smiled lightly at the revelation, and it occurred to her that he may have purposely brought her back without her maidenhead, sparing her of having the painful experience again. Then he'd misled her about it, not wanting her to be aware of his mercy.
How else would he have known to say that to me, just now?
The very notion warmed her, and she took it as affirmation of his affections for her; It was all making sense. He'd loved her, and had indeed been hurt deeply by her actions. Feeling betrayed, he'd punished her severely for toying with him in such a way, but despite this, he still cared about her—Which he would have resented himself for. Unable to escape his want for her, he had killed the Hero, preventing their separation without showing his weakness. Slowly, he was trying to rebuild what they had while she had been acting, whether she wanted that or not, isolating her until she had no other option but to marry him.
In Zelda's head, all the pieces seemed to click together perfectly; Just like the sketches, she analogized, Evolving from beauty to horror, though the want was the same throughout. She smiled at him, content, as they set their pace. "Thank you…" She breathed, finishing with her thoughts and letting her head loll back, hair splayed in the dirt.
The Gerudo rumbled lustfully against her neck, smirking at how vastly different this was to their first sexual encounter, "You are most welcome, Zelda…"
His knees dug into the earth, his thrusts finding no resistance in the ready Princess as her legs twitched and brushed the sides of his hips. Resting his weight upon a muscled forearm, his free hand roamed down to move the hem of the silken slip, grasping her hip and pulling her body onto him further. He grunted as it tore a delicious sound from her throat. Ganondorf watched her serene face contort with desire, the corners of her icy pink lips twitching with pleasure, unrestrained.
Hell, he wished her father's spirit were here, and then he could see it too… His lovely daughter, stripped of even her own sanity, and writhing underneath the man who took it, in the dirt of an unknown soldier's grave, willing. She wanted him to fuck her, and that fact more than made up for his earlier disappointment in her virginity not having returned; She still felt as fresh as if it had, either way. If only he had realized the kind of joy she could bring him in this way, through her suffering and her pleasure, he would have planned this from the very beginning.
Her fingers were tugging at the ends of his curled hair, entangling themselves beneath the thorned crown that held his fiery tresses in place, her sweet voice moaning hot against his ear. The Gerudo drove her harder, faster, running his free hand up her side and to the supple flesh of her chest, the slip moving easily in his wake, freed by her arching back. Zelda's legs lifted, wrapping around his form as their tryst grew feverish, matching his pace and moving against him to intensify the sensation—She could feel it building again, as he buried his face into her neck once more to place burning kisses to the skin; Each movement increasing that familiar pressure behind her hips, raising her spirit upwards in preparation for the glorious fall into carnal bliss.
She could feel his toned muscle flexing and rippling beneath thick skin, her palm still pressed to the scar upon his torso, and it appealed to her in a way she couldn't quite place, adding to her enjoyment. The act seemed to change them, make the two of them unlike themselves in a way, she realized; her ragged gasps had turned into breathy pleas, and her name passed his lips often, murmured lustfully against her pointed ear. Her fingers twisted forcefully into his hair as it finally hit her, that wave of warmth and ecstasy, sending her falling away from the harsh world in the culmination of mutual desire; Their bodies twitched and writhed against each other, spent and satiated.
Zelda lost all will to move as she stared up at the sky, hidden behind the golden light, clinging lazily onto her dark lover and catching her breath. They were contained, safe, in their own little world with nothing but the other. It's almost romantic, in an abstract and bizarre way, She thought, as he moved off of her, taking her rag-doll like body onto his lap as the world rushed passed in a blur. Shudders flew through her, aftershocks, making her feel light headed and giddy even in the transportation; warmth washed over her skin, as the light changed, replaced by the gentle flicker of an ever-burning fire.
They had returned to his chambers, sitting upon the bed, and she felt the first calls of sleep tugging at her heavy eyelids as she sat, cradled against him. He seemed to be in a much better mood now, she noticed, as Ganondorf lowered her gently onto the bed, pulling the covers aside for the both of them to become comfortable. He was usually more concerned with hygiene, though with a content sigh, the Gerudo settled onto his pillow lazily, not caring for the fact that they were both still clothed and littered with dirt.
Had the Princess only known that, at that very moment, the Hero was speaking with the hallowed Sages of old, it would not have seemed romantic at all.
A/N: Fans of Link, breath. Rest easy. He's alive.
I really toyed with the idea of him ACTUALLY being dead, but I just couldn't see that happening, really. Ganondorf in this was captured before he actually conquered Hyrule and whatnot in OoT, so, it occurred to me that he wouldn't know where the master sword even was, or how dangerous it might be. He's sneaky and underhanded, and he's pretty meticulous for planning, and I don't think he'd fly out and face a risk like that head on without seriously considering his options.
Especially since TP was all his doing from behind the scenes, why reveal himself to a serious threat that doesn't know he's there? …At least, that Ganon thinks doesn't know he's there. But on the upside, I have a plan to make Link's survival into more angst, because I really hate the whole 'he's going to save her' thing… But, if you recall the prophetic dream segment I did, and the cutscenes, you know I'm following the game events. This whole thing started as just a neat idea to explore the characters.
Anyway, sorry for scaring you with the toe, and thanks to everyone for reading and sticking with it, and to all your awesome reviews—I also added a few more line breaks to make it slightly easier to read in the chunky parts.