A/N: This is an old chapter. As always, some has been rewritten, but not all. Search for the few new details. There are 3,333 words in this section; it's not as big, but i believe it's very informational to Colin and Ganondorf's development.

Reviewers: TheFinalCountdown, Principessa Dell'Opera, Anonymous, Vopi, CatVista (WELCOME ON BOARD!), and Seldavia.


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Begin

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Today, the page decided, is not my day.

"Page Colin," the man in the rugged doorway repeated, studying the clean, well-kept dorm, "The Lord Ganondorf requires your presence before the eleventh hour." Quietly, he bowed, watching the bundle of dirty fabrics stiffen.

The 'prodigal' boy, who had turned to face him when he entered, was frowning in discontentment. He had been gazing out the cramped window into the back alley, where a cat was pawing at a piece of metal. Hesitating at the boy's shocked face, the head servant sternly narrowed his gaze, fingers twitching subtly on the door. "It would be best to see to his needs immediately."

"Of course," the boy said hollowly, "Of course I will go to him."

The man-servant bowed, and shut the door with a tiny click. Colin stared at the door. The grains of wood were shifting in lines before his tired eyes; he hadn't gotten one wink of sleep. Every time he even dared to shut his eyes, bloody images and haunting smells bombarded his memory. The dungeons had frightened him. Being locked away in the dark was his worst nightmare.

He had been awaken when Ralis had risen in the darkness, around six o' clock. He had bumped a hip into the dresser and cursed, and Colin had pretended to be asleep. He didn't want to talk. Even Darunia had left before he did, buckling up his armor and apprentice sword.

He had waited while the light slowly baked the room with heat. For a while, he had continued to lie on his coverlet, but when he heard the animals rooting around in the trash, he sat up. The cats and dogs had fought over the most peculiar things: a shiny string, two chicken bones, and a wad of paper. Colin had enjoyed watching them.

Yet, his master had shown him something that was being ignored. Never had Colin given any thought to the Tower, or the criminals locked inside. In one night, his whole viewpoint of Hyrule, and his master, had changed. Did this mean the man trusted him now? Or did it mean that he hated him enough to scare him into silence? Ganondorf was such a hard man to read, especially when he took no position on anything Colin wished to understand.

Like why soldiers had been deployed into the desert and the mountains. Were those to 'gather crops' as well? The King didn't seem like the kind who cared about his people, and even then, wouldn't he be looking for something to gain his standings for the war? He had already forced Zorans and Gorons to bow before him, so what were the ghosts of the past and the ancient magic in the woods?

Ganondorf had eased by most of these questions with vague answers, like: "The men needed training." or "Cero needed a reprieve." It was ridiculous. How was Colin supposed to know when he was lying or not?

Ralis continued to explain that in the council meetings, Ganondorf remained high in the High Prince's box, and refused to participate or encourage meetings. It was an irresponsible and cowardly thing to do when war was on the horizon. More shockingly, the Dark Knight had been bringing up matters about sharecropping, trading, and the citizens' rights within Twilight. He made it sound like they were being repressed, and that war would be an ultimate victory for the people. Many delegates were beginning to agree.

Whatever the case, the boy needed to get to the High Prince's study. Five minutes had passed, and by now, his presence was expected. Groaning, Colin pulled on a shirt and cotton pants. Hurriedly, he tugged on his red tunic, and shoved open the door.

It had been several days since Colin had last seen Ganondorf. The boy hadn't left his master in ideal circumstances as was, especially with the harsh words exchanged. If the guards had had enough gall to listen in, both master and page would be in the very same prison as those savages he had been showed for treason. Days later, Colin only now realized how stupid, and lucky, he had been.

Even now, as he calmly walked up the grand balconies with their ruby carpets and black railings to the High Prince's quiet study, he cursed himself for showing his emotions. Was this the end of his life as a page? Could Ganondorf simply write him off as a failure or threat, and continue on with his non-existent plans? Colin had never heard of a page returning to the Page Grounds.

Faster than expected, the High Prince's auditorium opened before him, magnificent in the rich trimmings of tapestries and gold ornaments. The door rose in front of him with the two shrouded guards quietly watching his advance. Colin strode to them, crossing the hall with the air of a king. They bowed slowly to him - more an incline of their cloaked faces than a bow - as the magnificent door swung open on oiled hinges.

Colin entered, taking a deep breath anxiously. He had planned what he was going to say, but as he glimpsed the huge man, all the arguments seemed childish.

The High Prince was not sitting like a typical coward in his gilded room, but instead he was waiting, dressed in riding leathers. His traditional High Prince cloak was draped over his chair. The grand room, even with all its expensive silks, seamless furniture, and quiet air, seemed confining and musty when the Prince stood to his total height. In all honesty, he seemed like an impatient warrior, itching for a fight.

When the growing teenager entered the room, gazing at his master with cold eyes, Ganondorf said quietly, "Colin, I will trust you."

Watching how his charge stiffened, he continued, "You have graduated from simply being my page. Instead, I will train you harshly in the ways of war and horsemanship. You will become a Knight two months ahead of schedule, if we begin with weaponry today." Glancing back at Colin's frown, he sharply lowered his voice.

"I am not raising you to this status simply because I seek amendments. You have showed incredible judgment that I would not have seen in even a veteran Knight, and for that, you have passed my expectations. It is time to increase your training, and your ability to fight. We may not be able to change this war, but we can definitely show that you are ready to make decisions for your country."

In a split second of silence, Colin relaxed his shoulders in confusion. The Prince was finally going to train him? After months and weeks of vague promises, he could still be lying. Something told him otherwise. Quietly shifting his leather-bound feet on the rug, he bowed deeply. When he rose, Ganondorf was waiting for him.

"Sir," Colin spilled before he could stop himself, "I have spoken out of turn-"

"No."

Blinking in astonishment, Colin took another deep breath, frown deepening his tired face. Watching his role model shaking his red head in confusion, the boy knew he must speak before Ganondorf forbid him to even move. He couldn't have this guilt riding him anymore. "Sir," he tried forcibly again, "I apologize."

When the Prince said nothing, Colin shivered, repeating, "I spoke out of turn, and I deserve punishment at your disposal. Please, please…" He bowed his head as deep as he ever had in his life, sweating, "…please forgive me."

The small boy heard boots echoing over the polished wooden floors, and Ganondorf was suddenly above him, massive but assuring. Quietly, he grasped Colin's leathered shoulder, turned him about to face the large door, and said clearly, "Colin, you are my page. I require no flattery. You are worthy."

Then the two had whisked themselves out of the room.

Colin's mind was numb, but relieved. With those words, his master had forgiven him…unless they were going to punishment right now. But somehow, as they trekked down the familiar stone stairs he doubted that was the idea.

Passing the lower banquet hall, they swung around the west corridor. Colin saw a few pages and their masters heading through the halls, and each gave them a proper nod or salute, but none ever came near them. The paneled walls slowly began changing from wood to bricks. At one point, Ganondorf halted. Pulling a key ring from his pocket, he opened a door embedded in the rock wall. With a wave of his hand, he stationed Colin outside. He disappeared in the darkness.

Colin peered inside. It was too dark to see much. The big man was rifling through a couple of objects, one of which looked suspiciously like a sword. A metal rack gleamed from the light streaming in through the doorframe. Nervous, Colin retreated.

After two minutes, the High Prince returned. He had sheathed whatever materials he had in his belt; only the circular scabbards gave any idea of what the weapons were. He only glanced at the boy -who was trying to avoid eye contact- before locking the door and continuing down the hallway. What was he planning?

Colin felt embarrassed as he followed his master. How could he allow himself any freedom with The High Prince? Even his Zoran and Goron friends were wary of their masters, more respectful than facing the goddesses themselves. A small lock of blonde hair fell into Colin's eyes. He blew it away absentmindedly, noticing the familiar corridor come into place.

Ganondorf opened the door that led to the courtyard, holding it for the small boy as he edged through. Together, they descended the cracked stairs with layers of dust and grime peeling off on the humans' boots. It was peaceful, and although the snow was gone, the ground still looked dead.

This stone courtyard faced the cragged, impenetrable mountains on the west, and although a high wall ringed it, it was never manned. This part of castle was never going to be breached from the outside, and Ganondorf knew it. As a precaution, the West Gate -a half mile north- was bound up tightly with chains, wooden stakes, and metal crossbars; nobody had passed through to the hillside for years. All attacks upon Hyrule came from the east or north, down through the flat fields perfect for large-scale battles.

Since it was deserted, Colin had found it a place to think. In the summer, if he was not busy, the page wondered if Ganondorf would let him plant a garden. Strangely, he needed a place to work his hands and not think about politics or studying. And stranger still, he missed doing menial chores like he had at Ordon Village.

An odd thud drew Colin's attention back to the present.

The huge man, blocking out the sun, pressed a weighty axe into Colin's hands, earning a quiet look of curiosity. His dark eyes stared down, impressing the responsibility of the weapon without speaking into his page. When Colin nodded, understanding the challenge he was to be facing, the High Prince said, "This axe is your life until I say otherwise. Treat it with respect, and learn how to wield it with two hands."

Colin was nervous. The metal in his hands was razor sharp; it looked like it could have sliced open a rock. Would he be training with Ganondorf, a seasoned warrior? Ralis and Darunia said that pages often trained together in the yards; all types of instruction was available. His fingers twitched on the metal-plated grip.

"You haven't ever held an axe, have you?"

His ears turned scarlet. "...only to chop wood with."

Ganondorf's face was quiet as he studied the boy's shamed face. In his hand, an ebony axe was settled. Colin realized he had taken the huge axe from the dusty, spare armory. That hellish weapon, gilded with iron and gold, must have weighed half a ton, although it was diminutive in his massive hands.

"Hold it with your palms and the inside of your knuckles," he said, rearranging Colin's hands, "It's not about hacking, but using your arms and momentum to control your movements." Holding the shaft, he let Colin try the swing. It was too stiff, but Ganondorf moved the boy's elbow, physically making the heavy axe curve smoothly.

"This is how. Swing like that every time."

Colin tried to memorize the feeling; the axe was pulling his elbow out, while the weight dragged down his muscle. It was difficult to keep the metal level. He kept his arm flexed while Ganondorf studied his swing. Second by second, it grew heavier.

There was silence. Ganondorf saw the boy's arm start to quiver, but he said nothing. Coliln continued to hold it, although sweat was beginning to soak his shirt along his lower back. The air was increasing heat, despite the promise of a cool spring.

Finally, the High Prince said, "Good. At ease." Colin let his arm slowly down, wincing at the tense muscles. However, the big man did not back away. Approaching his page in a defensive position, he nodded, a sharp jerk to show that the work wasn't done.

"Begin."

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Colin had never known Ganondorf to be a teacher. He was a warrior with the awesome power of the gods, and the intelligence to go with it. He was a wily politician, the son of the notorious King Ganon IV of Hyrule and one of the youngest council members. But in those weeks to follow, watching Colin settle into a crouch, and readjusting his position while explaining where the power would come from, he was an excellent master.

He began to teach Colin how to block a thrust from any weapon with only a flick of his wrists and the flat of the axe. Colin had studied almost every waking hour, dancing when he was alone in his room, and trying to feel the grip of his heavy axe. He was always exhausted; he spent five hours sleeping, two hours to himself, and the rest was training. To help build his arm strength, Ganondorf had him strap long lead weights to his upper and lower arms. It made him ache every moment of every day.

Every morning after their sparse breakfast, the High Prince and his page would go out into the cleared courtyard, practicing while the weather was cooler and physically conditioning when it got hot enough to fry an egg on the stones. In those particular exhausting sessions in the heat, Colin stretched, pulled, shoved, and lifted weights, increasing his flexibility, stamina, and power through the exercises.

When Colin looked back on the beginning of his training, he realized his strength grew expodentially. His arms and legs began to bulge, his stomach toned, and his lungs became pumping machines. After conditioning for so long, he could run flat-out for a mile, then three miles at a slower pace. It was astonishing how he grew, although he didn't know it was happening as it was.

His training increased one day when Ganondorf suddenly took his axe, and turned to Colin. With a ferocious grin, he had taunted the boy, and before he knew it, they had begun to fight. Not wanting to disgust his master, Colin had used every technique, sweating, thinking, and laboring to bring the large man down. After an hour, he hadn't managed it, and Ganondorf called a halt.

For another few weeks, Colin had fought Ganondorf, steadily gaining wit - enough to push the huge man back into the corner. Although the page was still lean, his arms had grown into coils of power, and finally, in one afternoon session, he disarmed his master, breath labored and sweat dripping off of his neck. Moments later, the huge man had rolled, kicked Colin's stomach, and brought his axe back up, but Colin had disarmed him.

The boy would never forget Ganondorf's proud smirk.

Since then, working as diligently as he could, the page had managed to master the Great Axe, the Hammer Axes, and the Throwing Hatchets. His body grew even more muscular with the heavy workload that the Prince was pressing upon him. Every evening, he ordered Colin to give him an exhibition, showing the dances of all of them. After, they would spar as hard as they could before the sun vanished. Colin more than once went to bed with his stiff legs bandaged and his ribs sore from the workouts. Sometimes, the High Prince sent an ice pack to place on his wounded, strained tendons.

The High Prince, although aloof and strict, was helping him along rapidly, showing him faster, quicker, better ways to advance. More than once, they would run together around the courtyard until Colin's sides were aching from trying to keep pace with his master. Those long days' ends were spent lounging on the stairs and watching the sun slip below the spring mountains.

Training meant more to Colin than anything else. He spent hours sparring with Ganondorf, talking to the man with his rural Ordonian accent, no longer afraid to hide it. If Vaati could have seen him now, the professor would probably be dying to get in a hard smack for no respect in the High Prince. Colin knew that it didn't matter any longer how he spoke to anyone. He was the High Prince's page; if Ganondorf didn't mind, then Colin wasn't changing.

Before long, Colin was joking with the High Prince, trusting him with worries and doubts of his family, his training, and the future. He told his master about the lazy days of winter, and the fun he had in summer causing havoc. Many times, he slipped that he had doubts about attacking Twilight, unlike the rest of the pages. Ralis, Darunia, and their masters were probably the only ones who would agree. In the quiet, his master only nodded, face relaxing with the revelation.

For his part, the large man was always ready to listen, even if his answers were cryptically reassuring. One night lying in his bed, Colin realized that Ganondorf was his mentor, his master, his older brother.

By showing him the prison weeks ago, trusting the boy, and finally beginning his training, the High Prince had gained his total and complete trust.

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"Look at them. Pathetic."

Talo raised his head from pouring over the formation papers, ignoring the exhaustion riddling his bones and under his eyes. Shaking his darkened hair, he promptly stood to his ever-increasing height, obeying the command with strict discipline. Heading to the window, he allowed himself to glance at the Dark Knight.

Cero was not old; in fact he was only in his thirties. Tall, handsome, and calmly persuasive, the man could have ruled an empire with a grip of iron unbeknownst to the people under his reign. But the way his scarlet eyes narrowed in his smooth face, and the way his mind worked behind his black hair was anything but what a citizen looked for. His scarred hand came up, motioning for Talo to direct his attention to the courtyard below. His page did so without any question.

Gazing down below, the boy felt his anger surge hot in his chest. In the quiet, deserted courtyard, two figures were sparring, huge axes slicing the air like butter in an incredible dance. Every once in a while, the setting sun would cause a glare across the strong metal. Pinpricks of fire would slice through the shades, and the clang of metal could vaguely be heard below.

Talo glared at the smaller figure; he was dripping with sweat and confidence as he parried, then attacked in a circle motion. The tall one- anybody could have known it was Ganondorf from even this far away- was shouting something over the roar of their false battle, instructing Colin expertly. For a few minutes, they parried and Within moments, the High Prince's page had danced within his master's grip, and with a practiced slash, drew a streak of blood from his arm.

Talo shivered in anger, wondering why the two had finally begun training. Was it the impending war? Maybe the Prince was finally taking interest in Colin? The possibilities sped through Talo's mind.

Although he wouldn't have ever told Cero, he was afraid of Ganondorf. He was as muscular as a warhorse, as tall as a bear. The High Prince could destroy more than a squadron of enemies with one lofty swing of that very axe; with his sword he was twice as deadly.

And here was Colin…learning the secret of power…

"You know, there's a way to disrupt this." A hand crept up Talo's shoulder, turning him abruptly back away from the window. The Ordon boy frowned with consternation. Cero's clever face was smirking as he shook his head in amusement.

"How?" Talo felt the words slip from his lips.

Cero laughed. "There are some secrets that our dearest prince hides away. If I put them in his face, his life, in that very courtyard where they've been practicing for at least a week…" The dangerous grin widened.

Instinctively, Talo felt the burning desire grab his chest, even as Cero sat down at the huge desk, beginning to write a draft in his spindly writing. Scratching engraved itself into Talo's inner sanctum, and he bowed, returning to the window. He continued to glare at the laughing figures until they retreated through the courtyard door.

The ability to create Ganondorf's worst nightmare was the Dark Knight's specialty.

And even if it took more time away from sparring, Cero would find a way to make it reality.

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