The Sentinel of Shadows

by BonJiro

When opportunity strikes, the window is swift and fleeting. Ganondorf, taking an old trick from his foes and disguising himself as a Shiekah, takes a chance and finds himself guarding the Hyrulian Royal Family's most precious treasure; Princess Zelda.

13. Dinner and a Show

There were a few sights in Hyrule that stood out among others; though all the land was beauteous, from the grand lake to the lush forests and tall, pristine mountains, it was perhaps the man made marvels that really brought it all together as not only a prosperous country, but a thriving empire. One of these, ranking next to the Royal libraries and the glorious castle gardens—in fact, overlooking the gardens—was the castle's Grand Hall, currently filling with people of all kinds.

Lit up by crystal chandeliers, hanging high above from marble arches, the vast space was as a flourish of technicolour as it splayed out across the walls, cast by the semiprecious stones. High arched windows, narrow and in close succession, lined the west wall to climb high toward the ceiling, cloaked in neatly tied curtains of a rich navy blue; held by golden, tasseled ropes—a perfect frame for the night garden outside, fireflies flitting about as earthly stars. Plush carpet softened the polished stone beneath, stretching as far as the chamber itself, a humble dais and small throne providing a casual seating option for royals at the top of the room.

On either side of this carpet, running the length of the walls were assorted tables and grand buffets, stacked high with platters of the finest dining available to be picked by hungry fingers. As if that weren't already convenient enough, women dressed in understated though quality uniforms wandered about to serve, carrying trays of silver and bottles of wine, to pass out goblets to whoever may thirst or have need of something to distract. They caught the eye of many a noble and upperclassman, and a few of the warriors that milled about took to following the prettiest of these women—some of the ones who'd been wounded actually played on their scrapes for flirtatious purposes, or at least when that failed, to gain some sympathetic attention. Very few were successful.

But the evening held a relaxed tone, despite some of the rigid overtones of the setting—even the rivalries of the earlier tournament had settled, for the most part, the worst of them simply keeping distance or sending the odd, annoyed glance. A good portion of the crowd mingled and talked amongst themselves, gathered at the opposite side from the throne to mill about the collection of musicians providing atmosphere. Though the music was pleasant, and not by itself remarkable enough to draw away from festivity, the attention was currently upon the main instrument or rather, it's player.

Upon a high platform with a selection of wind instruments backing her, Zelda stood wearing a regal façade, chin tilted high as delicate fingers plucked sweetly at her lyre.

She was redressed now, a black bodice embroidered with silver in flowing patterns along each hem and spiraling upward like creeping vines to a sweetheart neckline, dark maroon sleeves tipped by black lace covering her shoulders weightlessly. Maroon fabric fell with fluidity to create the rest of her floor length dress, the side split to reveal crimped silver underlay. Silken black gloves held fluid sheen as they moved; graceful lilting sweeps producing sound from the strings.

Caught up at the back to be held by an ivory pin, a shell-like crescent with two spikes, her golden tresses fell in perfect ringlets, bouncing lightly with shimmer and volume over the nape of her neck and shoulders, twisted curls falling in front of her pointed ears. The hue of her hair played wonderfully with the silvers of her attire, yet matched the Shiekah necklace and exquisitely crafted instrument—she looked, for all the world, a living treasure; spun gold hair, ivory skin and sapphire eyes, held by sterling filigree.

It was a hard task for even the highest of social climbers to divert their attentions enough to elevate themselves through conversation, when the air was so still; ears filled with her melody and eyes turning to the glow of her.

But outwardly angelic though she may be to the senses presently, underneath such a visage churned a thunderous storm of humiliation, anger and resentment. The notes her fingers would play, had the lyre not been enchanted to produce such soothing sounds, would reflect instead a discordant and empty ballad, bereft of joy and harsh with the force by which it would cry.

The King's eyes were upon her. Standing at the center of the gathering, a large entourage of strangers and familiar faces alike creating a barrier—as ever—between him and reality, her father's cool blue gaze continually landed upon her. He'd give pause to it only to make fleeting eye contact with whomever he spoke to, nodding lightly or gesturing his chalice as he talked, neatly cropped brown beard tapped occasionally in a ponderous fashion. With each move, his cape seemed to regain momentum, a subtle billow behind him to add to His Majesty's regal air.

But to Zelda, he was only a man, and a flawed one at that; he continued to disappoint her, even on the days where father and child should be at their closest, or at least, at the most considerate of each other.

Crystalline eyes always returned the King's glances, whenever they came. Though she knew better, Zelda had always succumbed to the lonely child within, hoping that in one of his looks she might find a sliver of pride, of admiration, for the woman she was swiftly becoming—had become. But it was never as she expected when her gaze caught his, searching it. What may have seemed a fond twinkle was merely a relief at curbed behaviours; a proud regard only pride in what traits he and his men had seen fit to instill. The King saw her as an asset, as his legacy… an important piece on his chessboard, above a Pawn but still, far from a Queen.

Never once did it enter his mind that she may be a player, and not a piece to be moved.

Zelda tilted her head downward some, returning a rather shallow attention to the strings her fingers danced upon—a wonderful show, but as always, her passion seemed to fade and now her movement had become puppet like; stiffened and tense. She didn't care for acting anymore. Not to play a ballad convincingly with feelings she didn't possess, and certainly, not to play a Princess that she simply couldn't be. She was no longer partially what they wanted her to be, to pick and choose from the best of her—no, she'd expanded far beyond that. A complex, intelligent, awkward sort of person, capable in error and the lessons learnt of it; far more so than a streamlined and polished woman of class, who would fear even the smallest mistake.

It seemed nobody cared for her to give up her act, likewise, as she was tired of the façade and the lies. Nobody should have to seek happiness from secrets, or by straying into social taboos to test how far they could extend without shattering the world around them.

But there they were again, his eyes upon her—Zelda could see the admiration in them, the delight, the sheer joy at witnessing his daughter, his rose, unfold. Somewhere deep inside, the little girl in her that had longed to see those things in his blue eyes smiled, but the woman she was now held back tears. Such innocuous things she'd required of him as a child… how little, how effortless… And he'd given none of it.

She was no longer his rose to watch unfold. She had blossomed long ago, and begun to wilt unnoticed, caught in that suffocating shadow of his; cold. Sheik had been the sun to shine upon her, the revitalizing rains, sturdy soil, providing foundation and growth.

That her father's gaze held fast on her with the foolish notion that he might've been responsible for any of her, on that stage as beautiful as her mother had once been, was an insult to her. Those things she'd chased all her life shimmering in his eyes came too little too late.

For somebody that doesn't exist, she thought with finality, her fingers coming to a slow stop as the soft lilt of a decrescendo faded into the air. She was finished now—finished with all of it, and those last notes broken by quiet applause were for the King alone.

A final goodbye from his imaginary daughter.

The Princess' eyes fluttered open once more, a hollow smile on her lips given to the people about as she took a humble bow, setting the lyre aside. Her ears were filled with praise as she stepped down from the platform, holding her dress lightly in her hands, though stopped at the foot of the few steps. Abruptly, and to the bemusement of quite a few—enough to outright hush some mid-sentence—black pumps were kicked off of her feet to lay uselessly abandoned by the steps.

The King slowed, his hands clasped; frozen in position from where a clap had left them—his thick eyebrows furrowed some toward her, an almost nervous twitch to the corner of his mouth. Stepping forward immediately, he approached her with subtlety, as if trying to discreetly hide the act behind his cape as he took her aside some.

"Zelda, dearest, that was a wonderful performance, truly, top notch…" He smiled gently, his regal voice catching some at the end, burdened by other things to say. "…But, you mustn't spoil it now with such… childish habits, hmm?" A brow was raised ever so slightly, his suggestion tainted with the hints of disciplinary scrutiny. His cape fluttered lightly as his hand waved toward her discarded footwear, and his proud smile returned swiftly.

"Now, put your shoes back on and we'll go for a round about the room. You've yet to meet the ambassador from Labrynna, he's quite excited to finally make your acquaintance, dear." His chuckle was a knowing one, as if he had planned it out already. "Lord Quintell is an advisor to Prince Elliam, you know. Shan't be long until you'll be meeting him either, I imagine."

Zelda stared at him a moment, as if meeting a stranger, crystalline gaze wavering on him enough to suggest she may be pondering his hints toward her first suitor. The corners of her lips quivered some, as for the first time in a long while, her mind silenced the thousands of chattering thoughts and found piercing clarity, if only for the moment. Her hollow smile from before reappeared, though now it was full and genuine—The King saw the spark of it and blinked, taken aback. He'd never expected her to take the moves into being courted so well.

But before he could voice his relief of this, she spoke with a happy and decisive voice; a tone that reminded him so of the Late Queen, it almost hurt to hear it.

"I think not, for now, thank you… I've worn those shoes a long time, Father, and they hurt my feet." Her head titled some as she said this, as if it were the simplest truth in the world, blonde ringlets swaying lightly. "I'll do just fine without them, I think."

Her father blinked once, a slow intake of breath as he inclined his head, peering at her strangely as her folded arms across his breastplate. In this light, the corner of his mouth seemed to pull into a grimace, and Zelda could see the creases beginning to take his face—even the odd grey hair could be found around his ear, if one cared to look.

"…Hurt your feet… I see…" He sighed, thoughtful as he regarded her bare feet—still visible as she held her hem from the floor. He hadn't thought she'd worn them that long; a few hours at best. They must've been poorly made, he thought tersely, making a mental note to arrange for a better cordwainer.

"Very well, then. If they cause you discomfort, I won't force you to wear them… But, Dearest, I would encourage you to adjourn briefly when you can to find a more suitable pair."

Zelda laughed brightly, as if he'd made a well-timed joke; indeed he had, though he was not aware of it. Strangely, even unawares of what his words were truly being twisted to in her head, or what her own had meant intrinsically, the Princess felt some closure with the odd exchange. She wasn't surprised the subtle metaphor went on deaf ears, but saying it aloud in some form helped.

A gloved hand rose to pat his arm reassuringly, her smile as sweet as ever, and she could see he was charmed by it—but then, it'd been so long since he'd seen her smile like that.

"I've already chosen a pair that should fit me nicely, Father. An old favorite of mine, in fact… I intend to shine and wear them as soon as possible." She giggled, turning then to slip away with a graceful, even agile, gait into the thick of those gathered, leaving the King caught awkwardly somewhere between reprieve and concern behind her.

He couldn't help feeling as if he'd missed something crucially important. Perhaps I've forgotten to hand over the proposals for Eldin Bridge to the architects for technical drafting in all the fuss of today…Bother. I'll have to check that now, or it may well drive me mad. And with little more than a shrug, a scornful look given to the shoes upon the floor, His Majesty turned around with a smile to resume group praise with the other guests about his daughter—and ascertain whether Lord Quintell had caught any of her performance.

Meanwhile, ferried though a grand marble arch by an escort of soldiers, as inconspicuously as was possible and easily among those 'fashionably late', the day's Champion slinked quietly with a plain, though pretty, redhead on his arm. To any onlookers, it would almost appear as if the young man was being dragged by the equally youthful woman, despite holding a slight limp.

Link and Malinna had arrived, immediately set upon by various fans and nobles alike, dodging questions and giving a nod to the soldiers as they left.

The two of them offset each other wonderfully—A smart white dress, sleeveless with a simple black sash about the waist, was worn by the young ranching woman, her fiery locks tamed for once in a high bun, though her fringe flicked outward from her face freely. Bouncy and vivacious, her bright eyes and pearly smile lit up her features to lend a cute femininity despite the step of a stockman.

The champion himself, quite obviously uncomfortable in the clothes, wore a neatly pressed white dress-shirt, the firm collar sweeping about his neck and embellished with the familiar blue pattern of their family. Dark trousers with a slightly offset ironed crease in the legs—Malinna's best attempt to fancy them up some—were held in place by a silver buckled belt, made of quality leather; of their own cattle no less. A buttoned black vest tied it together, a slender silver chain dipping from the breast pocket, though secretly, there was no fob watch held within. The chain cost enough as it was.

While Malinna's hair was neat and tidy, the result of hours worth of fussing in a breath fogged mirror, Link sported a new haircut; so recent that it was not yet two hours old. The lengthy ends held earlier at the nape of his neck had been sheared away, the back of his hair now worn short, though trimmed bangs still remained to cover his temples.

The boy cringed at how quickly it was noticed, brushing by an obese woman in various furs with a forced smile as her chubby, ringed fingers swept the back of his now bare neck with flirtatious glee. Though she managed an insincere and cheeky apology, the already awkward encounter turned for the worse when the woman remarked on he and Malinna making a 'cute pair', and that many girls would be disappointed tonight in lieu of that fact. A furious blush crossed Link's face, and tearing his sister quickly away from present company, he made a beeline for the gardens while the woman and a few bystanders laughed benignly.

Pushing through the function easily, Link began to slow as the pair passed the threshold of the outer vestibule, large iron doors open to the night air. Malinna had come far enough though, her amusement over the joke waning now to be replaced by a sharp tug to his arm, halting him as he blinked toward her.

"Would you calm down? You're as jittery as a sinner on sacred grounds!" She jibed playfully, unwinding from him arm to cross hers, hands rubbing skin to warm it against the sudden chill. "You know we've gotten that before, no harm done."

The young man stared at her with a sharp side glance a moment, a grimace becoming clear—the tint of pink on his cheeks had lessened some, but he still looked flustered, hand picking at his clothes unconsciously in a silent protest to wearing them.

"Yeah, well… I'm not in the mood for it tonight…" Link turned away then, leaning some against a vine twisted pillar as his gaze scanned the gardens wearily. "…Didn't want to be here, anyway…" He mumbled, a bit sulkily.

Malinna's cheer faded to be replaced by a motherly sort of look, a mixture of patience and disappointment. Her worn fingers rapped upon her arms some, and her toes twitched within her sandaled heels as a prelude to a tapping foot.

Of course not, she thought sarcastically, You'd much rather be asleep under a tree some place. Finally with a sigh, she stepped closer, a hand on her hip and another to clamp upon his shoulder.

"Don't you go being that way again. You done some real good, and I'm not about to let your moods spoil it. I won't have it, Fairy boy, not after today." She warned low, eyes narrowing.

Link recoiled inwardly at the old pet name—something she'd coined before the death of their patriarch, common as children, but now adults, it was something used only in close moments between the siblings, or to comfort. It had come about of the dreamy looks he'd often get, staring up at the sky, which Tarron would observe as the boy being 'off with the fairies somewhere'. Malinna had become overly fond of it, finding it funny, and so the moniker came about—Link loathed it initially, but now, years later, it brought a sense of home with it to settle and anchor him wherever he was. It was the entire reason he'd brought her along.

Staring off to trace the rosebushes, mapping each splash of crimson in the dark lit garden, the young Champion gave a half hearted shrug, slouching a bit as if the weight of her hand was enormous. The red head shifted closer then, softening as the hand held to her hip came to rest on the side of his arm, her body tilted to peer around to his face.

"…Alright, what's the matter?" She questioned in a slightly defeated tone—she just wanted to celebrate, everything was finally coming together for them, but even in her happiness she couldn't bear to feel it without him. He was the one who'd earned it, not her.

But Link shook his head lightly, blonde hair wisping with the movement about his brow. His voice came low and distant, a whisper in the night, as steely eyes turned to her with something in finally shining in them—uncertainty.

"Today… When I faced Valenzuela… I felt something. I don't even know how to explain it to you, I have no idea what it was or what it meant, or why, but…" He stopped, drawing a slightly shaky breath. "…I recognize it. I know it so well, like it's always been there, but I've never…" He trailed off, brows furrowed.

"Do you… think I'm a bad person, Malinna? Making a living off the crime of others?" He asked suddenly, sincere in his question though perhaps, a bit afraid of the answer.

The redhead stared at him with a blank look. Link, a bad person? That was like asking if an octopus like to paint fences—it didn't make any sense at all. Slowly breaking from her surprise, she shook her head, fixating on his handsome features with a curious, through confused frown.

"No, of course not… Where is this coming from? Link, I don't… understand…?" She stuttered, unsure of what to say or think.

He turned to face her fully, pulling away from her touch as the flicker in his eyes threatened to fade, steely blue icing over again. His gaze looked to the full moon above them, and he swore he felt a sudden urge to howl at it—let loose his frustration and questions without having to explain them or think through them.

"Malinna... I almost killed him today. Badon." He said quietly, voicing the internal tirade that had been raging since he'd left the arena. "I don't know how I let it happen, but he must've gotten under my skin. I just… snapped, and at the end… I wanted him to die. But… not him. Somebody else."

The young woman studied him carefully, blue eyes suddenly analyzing him. A tentative hand was raised, pressing gently to his forehead and brushing fringe aside, as if checking for a temperature. With a sigh it fell, limp at her side as her face hardened into one of thought.

"Link, we swore to Dad we'd never take the life of a man, no matter his ways." She started cautiously, soft with a gentle look in her eyes. "It's not for us to decide. The Goddesses judge and design our fates; we can't be tampering with things like that. It ain't right, and you've never killed or made profit by killing, either, thank heavens."

Gritting his teeth like a child who hadn't been heard, Link's head hung to be caught lazily by his hand, as if stricken suddenly by a headache. "You think I don't know that? I know we promised. I know that it's not for us to do… but… What about whoever got him killed? Would you honestly sit back and let him be, Malinna, given the chance to finally pay him back for everything we've been through? Really?"

She hissed her reply, scowling at him as if he'd spouted utter blasphemy. "Dog gone it, Link, that's not fair! You know that's… He'll get what he deserves. Everybody gets theirs in time, good and bad, it comes back tenfold. After our troubles, and all your hard work, you finally are getting the good you deserve…" She straightened, calming as she went, until she possessed a cold look similar to Link's when in battle. "Everybody gets theirs back." She repeated, resolute. "And so will he."

Steely eyes fixed upon her now with something foreign in them—they almost looked dead, as far as the boy she'd grown up with being behind them.

"…What if… My killing him was him getting his back?"

Link's voice was devoid of emotion then, lingering thick in the air between them, unrecognizable to either as they simply stared each other down in the moonlight, shadows upon their faces literally casting the world in light and darkness, for that moment.

"That ain't for you to make true by your reasoning. Even if it was justified, killing a man for his sins against you and yours, only the Goddesses can give you that opportunity as a task, and you and me both know that old wives' tale about hearing gods ain't true." She whispered, a mask of faith raised high to shield her from the darkness of what they spoke—the darkness in her that would gladly rip the throat of her father's killer, given the means to do so, though she'd never face this for fear of it consuming her.

"…We prayed a thousand times over for guidance and never heard anything. Turns out, we knew what to do all along on our own, and we got by. It was hard, but we got by." She whispered, a subtle pride in that they had scraped through against the odds warming her chest.

"I'm sick of 'getting by'; seeing you work yourself half to death! What about what I felt today? What I saw?" He questioned darkly, his hand now made into fists at his sides, held tight as her restrained his emotions. "I saw another man, one I don't know; along with that weird surge of… energy. It was empowering, overwhelming… it drove me to defend myself and ensure my survival. As if… Something wants me to live, badly… And it was urgent, like I had a purpose to fulfill, and it was to kill that man. To stop him... Almost as if it might fix everything that's happened."

He grimaced toward the ground, polished boot scuffing at the ground with agitation. "You don't know what I saw, Malinna; it felt like a dream. I knew him somehow, and I knew he needed to be gone; wiped from the Earth itself, if possible. He's bad things. Just… bad things, don't ask me why…" Link suddenly seemed to settle some, his muscles unwinding the tension as his hands slowly relaxed. "…I… I think he might have been the one… who got him killed."

"Link, you can't know that, you were wounded, it was probably just adrenaline and instinct—"

"No, it wasn't." He uttered suddenly, blinking with a sudden notion as something in the back of his mind clicked. His gaze rose to lock onto hers, his hands reaching out to grab hold of her wrists, desperate that she listen. "It was so much more than that. It was a message, a sign… Something! It's bigger than I am… I've been searching for that bastard, whoever they are for so long, I'm close now, I can tell! And it's important, like maybe, just maybe, Uncle Tarron died so that I would seek his killer out."

Malinna's eyes grew clouded as she stared into his—he was right, on some level, she knew deep down that he was. He had always been destined for something big, and everybody who'd ever known him agreed that the boy would go on to do great things. But a fear of losing him clawed at her belly whenever she thought of it, and it terrified her to think that she'd be left alone in this world; she didn't feel fate tugging at her the same way it seemed to with him. Their destinies were different, but if they were too diverse… If they never intertwined further than fond memories for their future selves, whatever happened… She just didn't know how to cope with that.

"Maybe the Gods are telling me that I need to get rid of him. End him. For everyone…" Link grew clear now, the turmoil of questions within stilling with quiet epiphany. "So he won't hurt anybody like he did us; nobody will suffer like that by him again, and the world will be slightly better off, if only by a little bit. Just one man…" He trailed off, pulling back some to give her some space, and releasing the grip on her wrists.

"Uncle Tarron wouldn't have died in vain, then… His death would mean something; truly. I know I promised, but this time I just don't think I can keep my word… Not if I'm right." He finished softly, desperate for that to be true.

The redhead peered downward at her shoes, wriggling her toes as a meager distraction, wishing this conversation had never needed to exist. But slowly, ever so slowly, she began to nod, understanding. A shaken breath drew inward, calming, before being released again passively. From beneath fiery wisps of fringe, her blue eyes shimmered with hope, and some forgiveness, but for the most part, acceptance.

"Okay, Fairy Boy… You win." She smiled lightly, the light spatter of freckled skin over the bridge of her nose crinkling briefly as she spoke. "If you believe that, then you go do it. You always did know what was right to do, when it came to it… And it always got done, too, even if you had to do it yourself…"

Her hand lifted to settle on his shoulder, pulling him into a chaste hug as the other encircled his waist, her chin on his collarbone. "I trust your judgment… And… Dad would too. If this is what you were always meant to do, being up there with the soldier boys, then find this man as a knight. Teach the others what it is to be courageous, and fight with honor, for the good of others." She squeezed him lightly, pulling away to give him a much brighter, more encouraging smile. "Fix up those cowards, turn them all into men like you, and the world will be more than just 'a bit better off for it'."

Link took a moment for her words to sink in, visibly processing what she'd said, before a grin took his lips—it was an adventurous one, like he'd held as a child, full of a magic; that of being alive and well. He lifted her then, earning a light yelp as he spun her, holding her high with a laugh before setting her down with wolfish cheek.

"What are you doing?" She cackled gleefully, caught off guard.

"Well, it's not much of a party without dancing, is it?"

He copped a playful smack for that as Malinna gave a pout, but it vanished quickly as she took hold of his arm again, leading him toward the light of the indoor celebrations hurriedly and with a sudden burst of childish enthusiasm.

"Then we better go show them how to cut a rug! Strike up the band, the Lonell's are in town! " She beamed, dragging him along and all but forgetting about his injury as she pulled him into random dance moves as they moved inside, laughing at themselves.

The jovial nature they returned with quickly caught on, and as the ranchers made a carefree show of less than appropriate dancing for the mood of the gala, many eyes turned to watch them with mild amusement. Some even clapping in time with their steps, and bouncing along in subdued dances of their own.

From the shadow of an archway, leaning inconspicuous against the stone as attendees breezed past, chattering about whatever held their interest and sipping at their drinks, Ganondorf stood silent. His arms folded over his chest, bandage wrapped fingers rapped pensively against bicep; he watched the ranchers as they came back into the social fray, though something had changed. The disguised Gerudo had observed Link since his arrival, and though nobody else may pay attention to such a thing, it was painfully obvious to him that the boy had entered haunted and now, was not struggling so under his burden.

But why? What triggered such a thing? It was obvious, during his final bout, that the rancher had been shaken by his slip… Ganondorf had not missed the intent of the strike, and it had enraptured him for that moment. As if all else were placed aside, paled against some internal happening within the boy, spurred in that instant that Courage flared; like a puppet unaware of its strings until suddenly, his control was stolen and now he contemplates the existence of the puppeteer.

A grimace took his mouth to crease lines at the corners as these thoughts turned upon himself, and his supposed origins. Perhaps there was something dangerous in them both, stealing their bodies to possess them when occasion called, rendering them the pawns of destiny that they were. But then, if Ganondorf himself derived his being from another, and the boy as well—it seemed a failsafe had set itself upon him, a reflex to repeat the past and ensure a hero was born of it—then what of Zelda?

And that girl, the one he danced with—She must be the key to his sudden resolve, he thought suddenly, an old ache reminding him of a woman's power to soothe. She was an anchor, or else, Link would still be brooding in the gardens, hiding his confusion and shame as he wrestled new demons.

She cannot be allowed to see him; Ganondorf's eyes squinted under thick brows, She's too important to him… If he fights for her, he will fight with his all. The Hero always makes a connection, and this is his Zelda, guiding him and mending wounds so that he can keep battling. No matter…I can sway this so that even she will think him a traitor.

The Princess was no longer Link's, so fate had arranged a replacement, at least as far as the boy's muse.

Ganondorf had stolen her place in this; crushed in his very hands. Zelda did not revert to 'herself' when Wisdom flared, how could she, when his necklace ensured these things were suppressed? All of his conditioning; rewiring her very mind to think differently, act differently. Be different. What might she become, when finally it grew too strong to contain, as it seemed to have done with Link?

He could only hope she would be the weapon he'd been forging, but still, the curiosity remained… If each of them drew on an ancient and, indeed, ingrained role…

I wonder…what is hers?

Artificially pointed ears perked to the sound of footsteps behind, approaching; they were leisurely, though taken with purpose at an even pace… Ganondorf could tell by this alone it was not one of the crowd. Drawn from his thoughts, his head turned ever so slightly in acknowledgement, though his crimson gaze remained focused on the boy.

"…I had worried some that you might have a companion in the shadows this night, Sheik, but young Link is finally coming out of his shell." The calm and refined voice of the King drifted soft between them, private under the din of the festivities, and a chuckle was contained in his words.

Despite himself, the disguised Gerudo smirked in a benign manner, fingers stilling as his thoughts did. "Indeed, Sire. Seems the boy's reputation has improved as you predicted… I'd be hard pressed to find to find anyone in the room unimpressed by him, let alone count the numerous fans whispering of his future."

The King nodded, holding a goblet high in a silent, unseen toast. "And a bright one it is… I have some reservations about how to deal with his employment given his age, though I hold high hopes he'll adapt quickly." He offered the Shiekah a side glance, smiling some. "…You on the other hand may take some convincing."

Ganondorf raised a brow towards him, though offered little. "And why would you think that?"

His Majesty's laugh came more than a chuckle, but held a strange cynicism to it. "I know I may seem a bit doddery as I age… But despite good humour, I am neither deaf nor blind just yet." His cape swung lightly as he turned towards the other man by a step, studying him some. "You've kept a close eye on our Champion since he stepped foot in the arena. Everything you said to Zelda about him was correct, and your assessment of his skills was outstanding… And yet, you seem troubled by them."

The Gerudo kept his silence for a moment, his chest tightening some the more the King spoke. He hated how observant the otherwise absent man could be; it was as if he were cursed to draw the King's attention at the worst possible convenience. His gaze broke away from the ranchers to fall upon the shorter man, tracing the filigree upon his attire, before the corner of his mouth twitched to speak.

"…Truthfully, Sire… They do indeed trouble me." Ganondorf confessed quietly, his weathered features set into an unreadable expression. "He possesses remarkable skill, and I don't doubt he has all the makings of a Knight… But he himself is conflicted by the past. You may smooth the memories and opinions of others, but you cannot soothe his; I am troubled simply because, with all due respect Sire, so is the boy. That this does not worry you…" He trailed off, waiting keenly for a response—he was curious as to what it would be.

"You truly are gifted in reading others." The King mused quietly, cool blue eyes flitting toward the other's face in the shadow of the archway. "I envy that… Perhaps if I shared a closer tether to my own ancestry, I may still know my daughter as well as you do… She has told me numerous times of the Shiekah seeing the truth. In my occupation, Truth is hard come by; convenience, and practicality, those are the things I am forced to see."

A wry sort of scoff hitched in his throat as the King's eyes turned to watch Link as Ganondorf had been. With a subdued tone, the sovereign continued.

"You've done wonders with my Zelda; taught her to keep her beliefs and embrace the truth of things. Under our noses, you've groomed her into a fine young woman, and in the years to come, you'll see fit that she is a fine Queen as well." He drew a breath, slow and reflective, as if choosing his words. "…Link is indeed conflicted, as Zelda once was. I can give the boy a start, but it is you that I believe can make him the sort of Captain Zelda will need."

Ganondorf paused, a sick twist in his stomach as the gravity of what the King had asked hit him. A bemused stare was given, as through the Gerudo's head flashed everything that he'd planned, done, said; here he'd forged such connections, such trust. He held a position in this era, this family, unlike any he'd held in royal service before—a cornerstone of Hyrule, acting in relative secrecy. Depended on, respected, even acknowledged…

And I'm going to enjoy tearing it all away from you, watching it bleed out of you as you lay dying at my feet, you pretentious bastard; The malicious grin tore at his face, moving muscle even as he tried to hide it. Against his best efforts to conceal the horrid expression, at the very least, a twisted sort of smile broke loose, and he knew there was no helping it.

"You honour me, Sire." He spoke quietly, almost distractedly, though his attention was clearly on the King. "You entrust me with your legacy… And I will ensure that it continues as strong as ever before. Stronger. I will take care of Link, as per your request… I had intended on taking him aside tonight to discuss these things privately. He will be recognized all throughout the land when I am done."

Gratitude flashed through the sovereign's cool blue eyes, a sense of finality and relief upon his features as fingers rose to tug lightly at his trimmed beard, out of habit. His smile spread sincerely; a warmth to it, as if all of his internal worried were wiped away with the Shiekah's declaration.

"Thank you, my friend. I have no doubt of that." The King gave him a nod, placing a firm grip to Ganondorf's shoulder in a friendly gesture, before spotting the Ambassador he'd been searching for over by the buffet. "…Now then, back to political matters…" He feigned a small sigh, cocking his head. "Don't coop yourself up in the shadows all night, Sheik. Really, have some fun for once." He teased, moving on as his cape billowing lightly behind him with the movement.

The disguised Gerudo let out a low, rumbling chuckle, not phased as to whether the retreating King heard him. "Oh, I'll have my fun tonight. Make no mistake about that…"

The jovial song that tore dancing from the ranching pair had come to a spirited end, and Ganondorf's brow twitched with opportunity as the boy and Malinna took a light bow to their light-hearted applause. Link didn't seem all that bothered by it now that he had the woman there; such subtle nuances of their familial ties, but the Gerudo could see how strong their codependence actually was. It was likely the boy would flounder some when caught alone without this reinforcement, becoming withdrawn and a shell of himself as he had during the day.

His eyes flicked toward the various people around, and considered his options.

So many eyes to watch him as the 'Champion' is bested by his superior…Ganondorf's twisted mind ticked with the want of it. But to fight him here, in the middle of the gala would be too much a cause for trouble…If I'm seen as an antagonist, doubtless, the gossips would not let it rest. That may cause issue later.

Either way, the Gerudo would play this off as a test of the boy's true skill—nobody would doubt that a Shiekah's assessment of him in a friendly spar was anything but that. However, to do so in the midst of the crowds may turn later into something for question; when the King was dead, and fingers were pointed, such an event so clear in public memory may seem amiss, let alone that Shiekah were prized on truth and realistically, truth held no place over the coming days… were he to fight the boy and not 'pick up on hidden malice' it may in fact work against him.

His teeth ground together with an internal frustration. How he wanted to tear the boy down in front of his new fans. Watch the amusement in their faces and see them chatter on about how no man could match a Shiekah for skill, belittling the boy further and reaffirming his infancy as a warrior. It was just the blow to Link's pride that would ease things along now that the 'Hero' had overcome whatever was troubling him earlier.

But perhaps, for now, public shame could wait just a few hours more. A defeat was a defeat, and a few hand picked spectators would equal the worthless crowd.

A sweet hum filled his ears, the disguised Gerudo turned his thoughts toward the sound—the sinister intent staining his mind softened some with the sight of Zelda approaching him, though his spite for the boy gained some refinement. A subtle smile, twisted with a notion of poetry came to his face. Zelda had requested he test the boy, and so, would think nothing of him holding her to it; And such valuable eyes to fall before, coupled with that of the redhead.

Barefoot still, holding the hem from the carpet as if proudly showing of the flesh of her ankles to shock and cause whisper, the Princess padded up to his side, hidden then with him in the shadow of the arch. Her crystalline eyes were brighter now than they had been all day, and the effect of liquor she'd consumed earlier had vanished completely. A gloved hand reached out to the side of his arm, touching it in a fond and discreet affection as the young woman smiled in a return to his.

"Aren't you just the life of the party." Ganondorf teased quietly, a sharp sarcasm to his tone, though a hint of fun hid within it. Crimson eyes traced over her dress appreciatively, a greedy glint to them, before he covered this with a slight tilt of his head. "What brings you to my dark little corner?"

Zelda rolled her eyes with a coy sort of smile, shaking her head lightly as ringlets swayed, before peering up at the man. "Don't you start." She warned with warmth. "You know how I hate being the center of attention. I suppose you saw that horrid performance of mine?"

The Gerudo smirked, a number of witty remarks running through his mind, though he settled instead for bringing a hand to the side of her face and brushing a wisp of gold from her brow. "You did well… Granted my little charm helped tremendously, but despite that, you put on a good show yourself, Zelda."

He glanced down then, noticing the absence of footwear. "…You played bare foot?" His brow rose in amusement.

Zelda laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, I wish I had… The looks would have been priceless…" She giggled. "No, I wore those black heels. The ones that feel like glass… I kicked them off when I was done, much to Father's horror."

"Ah." He paused, squinting some as he pondered that for a moment. "After all his planning for the night to go smoothly…" A grin came. "…Did his eye twitch?"

The Princess almost choked on the sip she'd taken from her glass, laughter trapped behind it as she shook, holding a hand to her chest and nodding enthusiastically. When she finally managed to swallow, she gasped, utter mirth in her voice. "You know actually, it did!" She cackled.

Ganondorf chuckled as well, the humour of it catching him for a moment in spite of everything else. Fingers rose to scratch distractedly at the side of his face as the hilarity faded, and his attention returned to the ranchers out amongst the fray. Now would be the perfect time.

"Actually, Zelda…" He started, sending her a sideward glance with a wry and sneaky sort of gleam to his eye. "I am rather glad you came along at this moment. I was just about to… 'congratulate' our new Champion." He smirked down at her. "Care to join me?"

She stared up at him blankly for a moment, considering this, and turned her gaze toward the boy in question. As she took stock of him, and the woman he was with, her cheerful smile became twisted to match her attendant's nature, and when again she looked up at the Gerudo, he could clearly see the girl he'd crafted shining in her eyes.

"What a wonderful idea." She purred, the subtle curve of her brow entertaining a myriad of possibilities. "I was beginning to get tired of the scenery, anyway… Let's take them for a stroll through the Gardens to get acquainted, shall we?"

Ganondorf's arm came behind her to rest a hand gently at the square of her shoulders, guiding her to move with him out of the archway, his attention flitting toward the vestibule and gardens thereafter; private enough, and they were likely to be undisturbed and avoid unwanted attention. How practical of her—she truly was a clever little thing.

"Perfect." He replied, his voice but a hint of things to come.

On the other side of the chambers, unaware of the approaching duo for the moment, Link was picking various finger foods from a buffet table, trying each and deciding what he did and didn't like. He spied a particular morsel of interest and plucked it from the few left, bringing it to his lips and taking half of it with a bite. But as the strange mixture of crab and fig, with a spice that he couldn't identify, prickled his tongue with a muddy texture, the boy's face went blank.

Malinna, who looked a trifle embarrassed by his questionable manners, blinked as his face suddenly contorted into one of confusion and disgust. A napkin was taken from the table and handed to him quickly before anybody noticed. "Here," She whispered, "Spit."

Taking it from her without subtlety, Link opened his mouth over it, letting the chewed slop slide unceremoniously off of his tongue by way of gravity to fall into the napkin with a wet sound. The red head cringed at this, losing any of her own appetite and looking around to see if anyone had noticed her brother's poor table manners, but Link wasn't done yet. He shuddered visibly with a noise of disapproval, scrunching the napkin into a balled package of half eaten crab cake, and then returned the other half of the morsel to the platter with the rest of them.

Seeing this, the woman offered him a lofty whack to the arm, gaping in false shock. "Yuck!" She almost laughed.

Link grinned a guilty, sheepish sort of smile at her, feigning some hurt from the light hearted assault. "What?" He asked, gesturing the soggy napkin at the platter. "You try one, I dare you."

"No thanks, I'm right." She snickered, unable to hide her amusement though she tried to look chastising.

To top things off, Link tossed the napkin at her, which she caught on instinct. Malinna gasped with revulsion, feeling the warm ooze in the thin slip of tissue, and juggled it some before it was tossed over the back of the buffet table to be hidden by a curtain. Her arms went bolt straight at her sides as she surprised herself, her mouth closing to form a thin line as a blush crept up. The two of them stared at the ghost of its path for a moment, glancing at each other, before pulling guilty faces and snickering.

"Oh, somebody should have warned you about the crab cakes… Terrible, really." A lilting voice called above the din, a giggle to its sweetness.

The pair froze, their humour vanishing with an almost palpable moment of panic rushing through them, as both Link and Malinna turned to see the Princess Zelda and her attendant standing not a few feet away, pleasant looks upon their faces despite obviously having witnessed the napkin toss.

"I would stay away from the lemon tarts as well, as they're quite bitter… But the quiche lorraine is to die for, I assure you." Zelda smiled, bowing her head lightly in greeting.

The ranchers seemed a bit taken aback, as if forgetting that it was appropriate for them to speak, but Malinna was the first to break free of it. She dipped with an awkward sort of curtsy, far less feminine than intended, and put on a bright smile for the Royal.

"Pr-Princess Zelda! An honour to meet you, your Highness…" She stuttered some, the last jitters fading as she nudged Link quickly, and after a blank look from him, saw that he gave a light bow and a nod.

Zelda's hand rose with a friendly smile. "Don't spoil this with formalities, it's quite alright." She offered dismissively, somewhat irked by their immediate change in demeanor. "Sheik and I thought it would be best to meet you in more casual terms—We do tend to prefer them ourselves."

"Oh… Well, if you insist?" Malinna seemed to shrug, and with the movement, her previous care for propriety was lost to a more genuine smile. "I'm Malinna Lonell, Link's sister and 'plus one'." She chimed happily, leaning against her brother playfully.

"Smart move, I'd imagine it'd be rather boring without close company to lighten things." Zelda laughed, knowing this to be true of herself and Sheik as well—her crystalline gaze drifted toward Link, however, even as she addressed his sister. She could see the boy shift some under scrutiny, but not hers. His own attention was locked with the Shiekah at her side, and her attendant likewise returned it; something tense between them like words unspoken.

Well, I suppose the last he saw Sheik was the day he spilt the milk, she thought idly, remembering the reasons for such a reaction.

Turning her head slightly to match the direction of her eyes, Zelda broke between the two carefully. "And of course, Link, our new Champion… I see that you remember my attendant, Sheik." Her voice seemed to echo a moment between all of them.

"…Remember? Link, have you met him before?" Malinna asked, her brows furrowed slightly toward the boy with a benign curiosity. She felt somewhat left out; Link had met this imposing character before and not come home to excitedly tell her about it?

Broken away from the trance of recognition and memory, Link's body twitched to life, and steely blue eyes sent a glance to his sister; his mouth ghosted the words before his voice came.

"…I met him years ago… He was the one that fixed up the milk order before… Uh… Well, I've met him, yeah..." He shrugged, his eyes stopping on Zelda briefly on their way back to the behemoth of a man. Even fully grown, Link still felt small next to him—He had to have been close to seven and a half feet.

Ganondorf felt an eerie tingle down his spine, a satisfaction he couldn't place. The boy remembered him, even through all the trauma of those few days. It pleased him in a small way that even the seemingly scatter brained boy he'd met then had taken a powerful enough impression to last into his adulthood, despite how easily it could've been lost to his Uncle's death.

"Yes," The disguised Gerudo started, continuing on from where Link had trailed off. "He was much shorter then." He chuckled, eyeing Malinna and schooling his face to keep anything predatory from it. "A shame that I couldn't do more to help over those days… Had I known what was coming, I may have kept a better eye out. Still, the two of you have done very well for yourselves I've heard…"

Though Malinna's face held a twinge of sadness at his words, Link was the one to respond, a faint smile coming to him as his hand idly scratched the side of his trousers discreetly.

"Hey, I never got whipped in the square. I should thank you for that alone." He laughed, seeming to brush the gravity of the subject to the side. "Sheik of the Shiekah, the unoriginal Hero of the milk run. It's good to see you again, all things aside." He smiled.

Ganondorf watched the affection flood the faces of the women at the mention of this kindness of his, and inwardly, he was somewhat surprised that this innocuous act brought such fond regard—Even the boy was actually pleased to see him. He'd even repeated his old joke. Not only had Link remembered him, he'd remembered him warmly, like some gentle giant.

It took a great deal of effort not to scoff with laughter at that thought—had the boy instead recalled him picking up the sliver of glass, a very different conversation would be had. Link might have held a vendetta, a dark obsession of revenge, and known him truly to be a devil in disguise. But no, here, only his 'kindness' was remembered, and it made the Gerudo's gut twist gleefully with the sick irony.

"And you, boy. You've become quite the fighter… I thoroughly enjoyed watching you today. How refreshing to see you've made something of yourself from the clumsy kid you were." He grinned, letting something of a friendly teasing slip.

Malinna laughed then, the bright sound accompanied by a light pat to Link's shoulder as her brother sent her a raised brow. "Yep, he's pretty something, alright. But I'd have to disagree about the clumsiness, though." She winked, "You should see him try to saddle a horse."

Zelda smiled at the ranchers, sipping lightly from her glass and studying the interaction between the two. Perhaps Father was onto something, she thought, They seem like perfectly normal, happy people… I suppose the hostility really did die with their patriarch. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel somewhat guilty for doubting that. She'd allowed her bitterness about the whole affair to taint her preconceptions of them, only to find that, now she'd met them, Zelda liked the siblings far more than she had anyone else for quite a while; the were refreshing, and real.

They were her kind of people.

"Well, to be honest, I'm useless with saddling a horse as well." The Princess offered, "Not that anyone would give me an opportunity to learn, with the stable hands trying to do everything for me… But really, I've always hated seeing a horse saddled, anyway." She grimaced lightly.

Link's eyes lit up then, focusing on the Royal. "I know, right? Nothing better than watching them out in the fields, untouched. I hate when we have to go out and wrangle them up… I've broken in a lot of horses, but I don't think I'll ever like doing it." He scuffed at the carpet with his shoe some, as Malinna gave him a sympathetic glance.

"Link here's a bit of an animal lover." His sister added for good measure, "He looks all rough and tumble when he fights, but he's just a big old softie on the inside… Aren't you, Fairy boy?" She laughed, flicking her fiery fringe as she did.

"Fairy boy? How cute." Zelda giggled, poking her tongue out lightly. Malinna laughed with her, as it became something of a joke.

Though Link looked somewhat bashful at the nickname being used in front of others, Zelda was now focused upon him with an odd twinkle in her eye. Ganondorf didn't miss it either—That fondness, the immediate sense of connection.

Gods forbid Link tried a quiche only to prattle on about an obsession with eggs and cuccos as well—with his luck, that'd be just the case. The Princess would be enthralled with him then, and the Gerudo could easily predict an hour or so of conversation sparked from that would see them become good friends very quickly…

Enough to know that Link wasn't the sort to kill or hold dark intent.

Clearing his throat, Ganondorf sought to end this before it began. "Rough and tumble indeed… I was actually hoping to call you out to the Gardens, boy." He stated clearly, with a tone that implied he'd drag him out there if he had to. "Given your new occupation, I've a few questions to put to you."

Link blinked, distracted from the others with a spark of interest. "Questions?" He repeated, seeming to think about it. "…Well, alright… I didn't know there was a job interview as well, but… Just the two of us, or?" He cocked a brow.

Ganondorf shook his head lightly, forcing a friendly sort of smile. "The girls may join us. It's not official, boy, just my way of… getting to know you, if you'll indulge my quirks. I'm nothing if not slightly overprotective and cautious, what with the variety of people in this castle... Given you're set to take a strong position here, and your understanding of my reasons to be so… pedantic, I'm sure this request isn't too brazen?" He challenged subtly, making sure Link understood that his family's history with Talleday played into this.

Link's lips pulled thin at the undertone, but knew that it was not a shot at his honour in any way. Slowly he nodded, glancing at Zelda before looking up at the Shiekah. "No, that's fine… I get it. We'll follow you, seeing we don't know this place like you do."

Malinna couldn't help but glance between the two men, not really understanding the gravity of what they were arranging, and fell back on the Princess' lead; her serene and content expression didn't bear any ill of this. Her toes curled some in the sandaled heels, and out of habit, the redhead latched onto Link's arm with a jovial manner.

The disguised Gerudo gave a brief scan to his surrounds before nodding, and gesturing for the group to move. Turning, he smiled at the Princess, taking a slow gait and allowing her to keep pace beside him as they headed for the vestibule.

As they walked, Link limping only slightly as Malinna tugged at his arm, the boy couldn't help but note the other pair's movements. The Princess walked with a different way than the others of higher class—her movements were fluid, graceful though unrestricted by forced poise. If he didn't know better, his first impression would be that she was trained for fast paced melee combat, with a heavy focus on momentum.

That's odd, he thought to himself, watching the ringlets of her hair bounce, come to think of it… His movements are similar, but more like a thief than an assassin…Steely eyes switched to the Shiekah, his habit of analyzing others kicking in before he realized. It seemed strange to him that the actual Shiekah, whose fighting style he'd come to understand was one of unbroken movements and reversal of force upon the opponent in melee terms, did not move quite as the Princess did.

Instead, the tall man held a large and overly muscular frame, whereas such a combat style usually produced a lithe build, not unlike his own; Link had, in recent years, taken inspiration from such styles himself. Sheik's movements were light, to be sure, and deceptively so for his size, but his build suggested the use of brute force and blunt, sharp movements as opposed to a fluid and continuous one.

He had noted, however, that the man's hands seemed to seek constant movement, and were prone to idle flexing—both of them, in fact, which made it difficult to guess which of them was his preferred. It was likely that he would wield dual weapons, though the sculpture of his arms suggested they would not be the subtle blades like knives, but rather, heavier ones, such as short swords or perhaps even variations of saber and cutlass. He also didn't doubt the fact that the man could easily take a claymore in a single hand, if he so chose.

Link couldn't tell if the Shiekah was an archer in any respect, though the curiosity occurred to him; Sheik's fingers were bandaged to cover any callous that may give him a clue.

And among all of these traits he recognized, there were subtle ones he couldn't place at all, and some almost reminiscent of a magic user—it seemed the more Link found, the less he was able to ascertain. Zelda's attendant seemed such a mix of styles and tells that two things were entirely possible. Either the man far outclassed him over years of mixed combat experience and a mastery of technique, or the Shiekah people themselves had only allowed a small fraction of their combat style to be documented.

The night air had grown chilled, and their breath fogged out before them in rolling clouds as the group stepped through the iron doors. The fireflies gathered from dusk had departed, leaving only a few stragglers behind; though the moon was full, the gardens were dark, shadows cast from sculpture and hedging to claw around them. Any sound that drifted from indoors lost almost all of its volume to be swallowed by the stillness.

As they walked through the hedge maze, a labyrinth of shade and greenery, Malinna's eyes grew hazed with some confusion, turning autonomously to the stars for a sense of place. Link however, seemed to track their position accurately enough, memorizing each turn until finally, they emerged within a clearing sporting a marble bench and part of the southern wall. Rosebushes climbed the stone, and the grass was neatly tended.

Zelda seemed quite at home here, a look of contentment on her face by the feel of soft grass beneath her feet, and hitching her skirts a moment, came to sit on the bench with ease. Finally, she was away from the fuss of the evening, if only for a small while. She sent the ranchers a smile, patting the marble softly in gesture for Malinna to join her, and the red head followed suit though her attention was focused primarily upon the roses.

"This is so pretty… I can't even imagine having a garden like this." She mused dreamily, leaning into her hand and glancing at the Princess. "You're very lucky, to live in a palace with all these little worlds in it. Maybe now that things are coming around, I'll hire on new hands and start up a garden myself in free time." Malinna laughed lightly, though it was clear how badly she wished for such a thing.

"You've got the greenest thumbs in the land." Link nodded to her, gesturing negligently to the feature plant. "You'll have roses to match these in no time." Though it was a faint smile, it caught Zelda with a charm. Malinna gave a wistful sort of sigh, the tiniest grimace suggesting she didn't recognize her own talents.

Ganondorf cast a somewhat spiteful glance toward the crimson flowers, unseen by the others, but corrected it before he spoke. "…A lovely sentiment, perhaps, but this section of the Gardens was once the pride and joy of the Late Queen. So, I would impose upon you that we try not to damage any of our surrounds, boy." A pointed glance was given to Link, a slight smirk betraying intent.

The boy turned, a twitch to his brow asking a silent question before his handsome features set, understanding what was implied. His mouth seemed to stretch into a fleeting hint of amusement before a wry look overcame him, and hands moved to undo and remove his vest.

"So you do ask questions with your fists. Figures…" He grimaced, tossing the garment aside to lie upon the grass. Rolling up his sleeves, he sent Malinna a glance, noting her apprehension—she still wasn't quite used to seeing him fight, though she'd long accepted it, and always gave support. She softened some seeing the reassurance in his eyes, and swiftly they turned to the Princess.

Before all of them, something in her had changed. The friendly sparkle of warmth he'd seen when she introduced herself had gone now to be replaced by a catlike attentiveness. Her serene features were hardened suddenly, seriousness to them and an eagerness he couldn't place. Expectantly she seemed to study him, though when finally her eyes met his, she realized his attention and turned her glance to the Shiekah.

Link's own eyes followed suit, seeing the crimson glint caught by moonlight on the face of his new opponent; intrigue and something of a conviction in them. He could see the layers of muscle tense and ripple in preparation, and the boy felt an odd trepidation suddenly. Isolated, singled out; not unlike the realization that he had actually come across a pack of real wolves, circling and stalking their prey. He was no longer the hunter here. Swallowing the feeling, it dawned on him that this was likely due to the events of the tourney, coupled with the unease of sparring on an injury.

And so it was discarded as once again, Link's shields were raised for combat.

Ganondorf watched the boy prepare in silence, before raising a hand to beckon they begin. "The best way to know a man is to fight them, I'm sure you'll agree… do yourself a favor, boy. Do not hold back." He rasped, the points of his canines biting into the words viciously. "Due to your injury, the first shot is yours. Make it count."

With little more than a nod, Link sprang from his position to close in on the Shiekah fast, ignoring the ache of protest in his leg. Steeled eyes worked their way over the other, in habit of looking for an opening, but the man made no move of defense. Taken aback, Link defaulted to the most effective opening he could think of—if he could get a good torso shot in, he may wind Sheik and if not, bruise some crucial muscle.

His body lowered some as the full force of his momentum was poured into his arm as it was pulled close to the chest, Link's elbow driving forward to embed itself just below sternum. A heavy grunt was given by both combatants, though there they met their first standstill. As Link stood there in position, staring at the point where his blow had connected, a slight horror swept over him—Sheik hadn't moved at all, not to flinch or wince, or lose his breath. It was as if he were made of stone, and to the boy's amazement, a faint pain shot up his arm as the bone was shunted.

Link's first blow had not only held no effect, but been counterproductive.

"…Interesting choice." Ganondorf mused as he glared down at the boy, not allowing the strain of his tensing muscles to show upon his weathered features—It was indeed a good strike, and a light ache was produced from it, but Link would see none of it. A large hand then came to grip the boy's wrist while he was still caught by surprise. "But your one shot is gone now."

Link's eyes widened some as the Shiekah pulled his wrist with a massive amount of force and an iron grip; though he tugged his arm back in time enough to escape from any normal opponent, he had no such luck here. The other man's grip would not break against such a feeble attempt, and as the boy's body followed to send him stumbling to the side, Link realized that Sheik's strength was far beyond what he'd guessed given his size. It was almost… on terms with a Goron's… perhaps even more.

As soon as he'd caught his footing, the boy spun to take up a defensive position, his arms raised before him to block. Sheik simply stood where he had before though, only turning to face him—he hadn't capitalized at all on Link's back being turned, or used the time in which he was off balance to approach. Almost as if he though nothing of letting such otherwise precious opportunities pass him by.

I'll need to be more precise…If I stay in close quarters for long he'll overpower me…The rancher's mind worked it over as his stance shifted slightly, I'll rush him and feint; under his arm as he blocks, round the left side, kick out his knee and deliver two handed blow to back of neck.

The disguised Gerudo watched the boy's face grow cold and hardened as it had during the day, and curiosity got the better of him. He flexed his hand purposefully, as if mentally running through the process of using that hand—to his amusement, Link's eyes sharply tracked the small movement, and his knee twitched reflexively as if instinct had told him to move, though he defied it. Ganondorf remembered how Link had fought, using move sets that did not change; continuous assaults, carefully planned based on his assessment of whom he fought.

…If he expects to fight a Shiekah, he thought grimly, then perhaps it's best I save that for last. I may confuse him if I cycle through Gerudo and Hylian styles. He stifled a chuckle as he watched the boy tick, sparing a glance at the girls—Malinna looked as surprised as Link likely felt. Zelda's face was calm, though her fingers were active, plucking away at the fabric on her lap. She would enjoy this as much as he.

Movement caught crimson eyes as Link moved again; quick on his feet and intent in the movements as one of his arms was pulled back in a similar fashion to before. Ganondorf's mouth twitched some, knowing the boy had a plan and annoyed that he couldn't know what it might be. A low growl escaped the disguised Gerudo's throat as Link readied to strike, though a thought occurred to him as he prepared to block—his block was instinctual, and the boy used his opponent's instincts against them. Forcing himself into an opposite direction, Ganondorf's foot kicked off of the grass as he pulled his mass to one side, just in time to see Link's punch become a feint.

The rancher faltered for the briefest instant as the Shiekah dodged, surprised that he did not block given the force at which he was approached. His eyes widened some as his boot hit the grass, twisting autonomously to correct himself and face the taller man; he had no plan now, but no time to stop. Pivoting, Link brought his injured leg around into a low kick, not wasting his momentum.

Ganondorf's knee met the brunt of the rancher's shin, and seeing Link's shoulder twitch, made sure he was first to connect. A heavy hand swung from across his chest as he righted himself, the sideways movement of it seeking Link's cheek with malice—the back of the disguised Gerudo's hand cracked knuckles as it connected with the boy's jaw in a powerful backhand, shorting out the other mid-punch. But as Link's head twisted to the side, his body following it as he was sent careening to the side, his failed punch was salvaged and his arm continued to extend; scratching the side of Ganondorf's ear and face, a finger luckily catching his eye.

The men broke apart then, the Shiekah jumping back as he recoiled and Link hitting the ground in a roll to shakily spring back up, unsteady for a moment. It was clear from the grimace of discomfort the boy had aggravated his injury already, costing him speed and stable footing. Malinna had gasped at the conflict, sitting bolt upright as Zelda's attendant had brutally struck Link's face—she was no expert, but the rules of engagement usually put that as foul play, didn't it? Worse yet, Link hadn't even hesitated in doing the same. His punch may not have landed, but that didn't stop him converting it into a last ditch claw at Sheik's cheek.

"Hey!" She called, shock and irritation on her face, "I though this was a friendly fight—" Zelda's hand gripped her shoulder to silence her, and as the red head sent her a hopeless look, the Princess shook her head. Malinna sighed, knowing that the two males had a different idea of doing things, and anything went to 'truly know' each other.

Zelda offered her a small smile, her grip easing to become a light pat before returning to her lap. "Boys will be boys… If it wasn't friendly, there would've been blood in the first blows." She whispered softly, and the ranching woman nodded reluctantly, resolving to keep quiet for now.

But despite the reassurance between the two young women, things were far from friendly as Link and Ganondorf simply stared at each other a moment, both gritting their teeth.

Link's ears were ringing, pain throbbing through his jaw and blood upon his tongue—a tooth had been knocked loose in that, and leg burned with stitches threatening to rip if he tried that again. Despite the fact that death wasn't a possibility, it was clearly evident that this was very serious. There was no care for injury, or reservation in causing it. But then, Sheik had warned him not to hold back. He twisted his head to the side, spitting discreetly to rid his mouth of blood; he only hoped the events of earlier didn't repeat themselves. The last thing he needed was hallucinations and weird urges against the Princess' attendant while he was assessing him.

But on the other hand, if he didn't tap into that extra potential, he may end up severely beaten—at this point, the boy really couldn't decide which he preferred.

The disguised Gerudo, on the other hand, was seething. The wretched brat had gotten a shot in on his face so early in the piece, and though it was merely a scratch, the sting of his left eye only whipped up long reserved rage. His ear burned where the skin had been scraped, and now, the blurring of water in the assaulted eye reduced his vision to half, his left side a mess of distorted silhouettes. Even so young, and unarmed, this incarnation was impressive, and didn't mess around.

Audience aside, Ganondorf allowed his façade to begin slipping then, no longer content to observe Link's fighting style closely, as he'd earlier intended before drawing it to a satisfying close. No, he was going to hurt him; let this pitiful 'hero' know that not only was he superior, but that the boy's very life depended solely on his whim which, fortunately, sided with the bigger picture of obtaining Courage.

His plan to cycle through styles was all but abandoned as the Gerudo set out for blood, Power pulsing to life within him, called out the dark desire for Link's suffering. Though it was a restricted power, and severely limited, whatever he could access at this proximity to the other parts was, unlike Link's, perfectly under his control.

"You're very quick…" Ganondorf spat, eyeing the boy with a horrible leer, the corner of his mouth peaking in spite. "Even with that injury… But you can't outrun your shadow."

Let's see how well you fare when you can't stand, he thought cruelly.

Link's head cocked back in some panic, steeled eyes flitting about himself frantically in confusion. "My… shadow?" He stammered, clenching fists tightly. What the hell was that supposed to mean? But as the Shiekah gave a gesture of his hand, almost negligent in the movement, the boy soon felt how literal it had been.

From behind, an unknown force pulled at his leg, tearing it out from under him to send Link's face into the ground with a painful thud, reaffirming the pain in his jaw. Shocked he looked to his feet, seeing nothing but the shadows behind him, cast by the hedging. A sudden urge told him to scramble forward and out of them, but as his fingers clawed at the grass in his crawl, another sharp tug sent pain winding up his leg—as if something had literally punched his wound.

Crying out reflexively, Link winced, forcing himself to keep moving though he was pulled roughly backward; wherever shadow touched his skin, it felt like a thousand pin pricks, burning with an itch and a sense of claustrophobia. He could feel it focusing upon his legs, overwhelming in the sensation and making it almost impossible to stand—they buckled and trembled, twitching under the assault as the pinpricks slowly became heavier. The boy struggled, managing to fight the metaphysical force enough to come upon all fours—as he did so, the strain on Sheik's face, which was twisted with concentration, became evident. It seemed the more Link fought against it, the harder it became for the other to continue. But more than that, as Link looked up, skin stinging and becoming red with irritation, he saw that the man's eyes were closed.

That must be the catch! To manipulate shadow, he has to give up his sight! But no sooner did link make this realization did a powerful blow to the back of his leg send a shock of urgency though him.

"Ugh!" He recoiled, palm pressed to the ground to stabilize himself as his face contorted into one of discomfort and frustration. If this kept up, he'd be crippled—again and again, small though sharp blows, like stabbing knives, drove into his legs. Link's fingers dug into the dirt, catching it under his nails, as it seemed he couldn't break free of the assault by struggle alone.

I should've guessed he was a magic user, that explains the twitching hands, his mind chastised, trying to block out the pain; I can't top that without range! Damn it all, if I had a bow or a knife, I could—

His eyes shot wide with epiphany. A projectile… If it hit him, he may open his eyes… better yet, he couldn't see, so he must be relying on feeling for location. Turning a desperate gaze to the ground, Link fumbled, his hands roaming the dark of the shadows before him, blindly, until the side of his hand knocked what he'd been searching for. Grabbing it up quickly, he fought, straining himself to stand upon his knees, and with the precision to make any true Shiekah proud, a stone was thrown at great speed to hurtle toward the other.

Ganondorf could indeed feel the boy's movements through the shadows as his fingers tugged the invisible strings of his puppets, and froze when he felt it—he couldn't see what it was, how heavy, what kind of threat it may be. What he felt, however, was reminiscent of his early training with Zelda. Something he knew all too well to be a knife thrown.

Shit, he was armed…? Rushed through a hazed mind and he knew that he could not risk being struck. It would make sense that the boy might keep a blade on him at all times, given his occupation. As the stone hurtled toward him, the Gerudo had no choice but to assume the worst and the bonds were released; side stepping to dodge, crimson eyes opened, his tether broken by the forced movement and break in concentration. Link wasted no time springing from the shadow and back out into the moonlit clearing, stumbling to his feet weakly and catching his breath to recover—and it was then Ganondorf painfully realized the boy had inadvertently fooled him.

It was only a stone. For a rock, a pebble, he'd allowed a precious advantage to be wasted. In his panic to avoid the 'knife' as well, he'd let slip that fleeting glimpse of Power spurring the borrowed spell. Now the boy was free; still able to stand, no less. His gaze slowly turned to the fatigued rancher, and in the heat of his inner humiliation, Ganondorf's anger won over the last remnant of any strategy or acting he'd been so careful to keep.

With malice, the large man lunged, a beastly growl tearing from his lips as the boy's eyes grew wide at the speed. Link's arms rose to block, his feet spreading in an attempt to brace himself, though between the damage done to his legs, his still shattered equilibrium and Sheik's weight, he knew this wouldn't do much. A direct and heavy punch connected with Link's forearms, the rippling muscle of the Shiekah's arm bulging with the force of it, driving the rancher's block inward. With bone shattering strength, Link's arms buckled beneath the large fist, slamming against his chest as he was thrown backwards off his feet.

A pained gasp sounded loud enough for all in company to hear as the boy hit the grass some two meters behind were he'd stood, driving what little wind was left from him. Though he'd started with the cold façade usually kept in battle, it was evident upon his features now; Link was losing, and he simply couldn't keep this up. His arms shook and trembled in shock of the blow, but the steady thump of boots coming up fast alerted the boy to move before he'd even opened his eyes.

Forcing himself to roll to the side, dirt came to hit his face and be caught in his blonde hair as the Shiekah's fist embedded itself where his head had been…

A blow that could easily have cracked his skull clean open.

A jolt of adrenaline kicked in and spurred Link onto all fours, moving quickly to see the larger man staring at him with a piercing, one eyed glare. Within his muscles, fleeting though powerful, he felt it again—the strange flood of energy as it ran through his body, taking away his pain temporarily and forcing him to move.

Courage had sprung to life once again.

Link's shoes dug into the grass as he pounced to tackle Sheik from the side, knocking him down with an indomitable determination. As the energy burned through his veins, Link could feel himself hit the other man's side with three times the strength he would have been able to normally, and it shocked him slightly, though he couldn't afford to be distracted by it again.

Before Ganondorf could counter it or pull his fist from the earth, the boy was on top of him, a sneer and a yell as he was toppled by an unexpected amount of strength. The feeling of a raw strike to the side of his face was the next to come; Link's knuckles twisted into the flesh beside his good eye, crunching into the bone and bruising muscle, skin breaking into tiny, crescent-like cuts beneath the sheer viciousness of it. It was a clear attempt at damaging his vision further, thankfully missed in the struggle. The disguised Gerudo growled, baring his teeth fiercely like an animal cornered, and in the time it took for Link to rear his arm back to correct his mistake, Ganondorf's hand lurched forward to grab the front of the boy's white shirt, fingers tightening dangerously.

Sitting up as he did so, a merciless forward motion coupled with the sharp tug of Link's collar, Ganondorf drew the boy forward into a blinding head butt, smashing his nose and forehead. Link's face contorted in pain as the flesh split around the bridge of his nose, the cartilage shifting with a slight crack as it was abused, sight stolen to his eyes shutting tight in a wince. The boy's movements stilled as his second punch was aborted, the hand seeking his face as blood rolled from his nostrils and the cut. In that instant, he was thrown back as a solid strike hit his chest, and the small of his back soon met grass again. Unable to see beyond the stars in his vision and the pain behind his eyes, or hear clearly as ears whined with a high pitch, Link lost track of his opponent and resorted to kicking out blindly.

As Ganondorf moved from his position on the ground to reverse the situation, caging Link under his hulking form with an intent to pin him, an unexpected boot caught his brow, splitting it cleanly as the sting of dirt mixed with fresh blood. Rivulets of it dripping down over his scratched eye, his hand lunged forward to catch Link's throat in a vice-like grip, his breath seethed through clenched teeth. Everything around him seemed to vanish from his mind as he stared down at the boy beneath, gasping and writhing as his hands clawed at the Gerudo's wrist, steely eyes fluttering to stare up through blurred vision.

Just a few moments, his mind screamed, twisted by the sanguine call of Power as it flared in response to contact with Courage, a few moments more and he'd stop breathing. A flex of his hand to crush vocal chords and clamp down on arteries… more pressure and a firm jerk could very well snap the feeble spine at the back of his neck. He'd be free of the 'Hero' in this cycle for good. He could kill the boy… yes, kill him now and be done with it… see the life—the fight—fade from those blue eyes to turn grey, utterly defeated and spiritless.

He could feel Courage flaring violently, pain shooting up his arm from where the boy clutched his wrist in protest, a newfound and chaotic strength refusing to let go or give up. To see it amount to nothing… To see those determined hands fall limp, useless, would be a beautiful sight.

These thoughts rushed through his raging mind as everything seemed to hit a critical point, his open eye flashing with that terrible, golden hue as the points of his canines bared down. Did he really need Courage? Or could he make do with Power and Wisdom?

No, he couldn't… The King had to die, and Link was his only option for allowing that to happen. As tempting as it may have been, fate snatched away his opportunity before the fight had begun. Malinna and Zelda could not watch Link die without repercussion; to kill this pathetic brat now may mean to sacrifice the throne later, and he still needed his cover, if only for a little longer.

As his Piece resonated, it only solidified this need, driving the beast within back into its cage. Courage was too important to let go for a petty kill, spurred by anger. Ganondorf would have his time, but it wasn't now. A sharp and horrible feeling of helplessness overcame him, settling in the pit of his gut, as the Gerudo resolved that, once again, his temper would be his undoing if he allowed it to get the better of him. His fingers twitched, loosening, as slowly he began to release the boy's throat.

But through the air, cutting the stillness and the silence like a knife, Zelda's voice rang clear. "Sheik, I've seen enough. I'm more than satisfied in his abilities. Let him be."

The Gerudo's blood ran cold, iced over by the tone—like a master calling off its dog. His good eye widened, realizing his position, and the gold faded completely as Link coughed with some relief. Ignoring the boy now as his hand fell to his side limply, Ganondorf's attention drifted slowly, wild with human fury, toward Zelda.

The Princess stood now, Malinna behind with a look of concern on her features for her brother. Zelda's arms were crossed lightly, a cool look of satisfaction on her serene face, crystalline eyes glinting in the moonlight. An almost unperceivable curve to her lips as she affixed her gaze upon her secret lover, something haughty in them, as if he'd done it all for her. Such was the belief he'd allowed her after all, but Ganondorf's mind replayed her voice even as he slowly came to stand.

Like she owned him; could order him about. And in that instant, an old hatred for the girl came back with a vengeance, his teeth clenching with enough force to crack enamel. He could feel the blood trickling down his cheek and neck, a streak of heat across his flesh, and Ganondorf realized then how much he'd allowed himself to slip—these years of the high life, taking it easy in this castle, so far from his desert home and the trials of survival. The Gerudo King had been spoilt here, grown lazy and lost his edge, unchallenged… And now it seemed, Zelda thought herself his equal, perhaps even a superior. Even in his rouse, this should never be so; he knew what was best for her, and she would do as he told.

Not the other way around.

I'll have to fix that before it becomes problematic, he decided, settling his visible outrage. I think I'll start that now, in fact.

Turning some, he extended a hand down to Link, who'd pulled himself into a sitting position to cough and wipe the blood from his face. The boy stared at the hand, blinking some. For the briefest of moments, Link gave a glare, somewhat indignant, until he seemingly remembered that their fight was a friendly one. Immediately his cold eyes regained a softness, as if his mind worked differently when in battle, only able to process victory and loss; ally and opponent. Slowly, his handsome features settled into the faintest ghost of a smile, and he took the Shiekah's hand, allowing himself to be pulled to shaky feet.

Ganondorf forced his face into one of approval, though with his current mood, it perhaps looked like an expression of reluctant acknowledgement, a strange mix of bitterness and respect.

"You did better than I expected of you, boy. Forgive my harshness… I had to know how you would react if faced with killing intent." He lied, as pleasantly as was possible, effort put into unlocking his jaw. He knew he'd gone too far, but it seemed even he was not a skilled enough actor as to completely forget the past. Hopefully, this brutal though justified reasoning may sway the present company away from noticing the malevolence he'd let slip.

Link held a hand to his nose, his voice muffled some by the state of it, and he wobbled slightly on his feet. "You… really… didn't pull any punches…" He mused, sounding a bit more sarcastic than he'd liked. Blood dripped freely, trickling between his fingers and staining his shirt. "For a second there, I thought you… might actually kill me." He laughed weakly.

The disguised Gerudo grimaced, likewise holding a hand to stem the blood flow from his eyebrow. He looked away from Link, hiding as much of his darkening expression as he could in the dim light. "…I would've preferred our fight to last longer, however." He scoffed acrimoniously, as Malinna quickly bounded over to Link with Zelda trailing gracefully behind.

"Link! Damn it, you got blood all over the top of your shirt! …And grass stains too, ugh…" She sighed, her concern for Link hidden thinly by her nitpicking over clothes. "Do you have any idea how bad this'll be for me to clean, huh?"

The red headed woman immediately began to fuss, much to Link's embarrassment, though Zelda chimed in with a saccharine smile, standing close to her attendant and watching the ranchers interact once again.

"There was no need for it to last longer. You tested his skills and found him worthy of the position, have you not? Besides which… you had him pinned. That's a victory, Sheik, unfortunately for our Champion." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, speaking mostly to the Shiekah. As her head tilted to the side, a playful look was sent to the silver haired man, but he didn't return it.

Glaring down at the Princess, Ganondorf allowed his cruelty to shine though, his eyes burning into hers with an inflexible resentment. "Unfortunate for you as well, Zelda." He growled low, "He is indeed more than capable of becoming a captain, despite his age, but he is your superior in combat."

The Princess stared up at him, her mouth agape slightly as she stuttered. "E-Excuse me?" She could hardly believe her ears; he wasn't really going to tell her this now was he?

"You heard me, Zelda. You may not spar with him… You are too weak and he outclasses you." He spat bitterly, drinking deep of the look of shock and hurt flashing across her face.

Zelda's heart felt as if it'd cracked when the words left his lips, a sinking feeling consuming her; Sheik may have been correct, but… he never insulted her. And perhaps, technically, he hadn't, but the way he'd said it, the look he'd given her… it stung like an insult—and she could easily tell, he'd intended it to. He had always encouraged her, supported her. Now, in this moment, he'd slammed her down in front of others, as if trying to humiliate her.

Not only that, he'd compromised their secret training by telling complete strangers.

Crystalline eyes turned to Link, critical with some panic and embarrassment in them. There was no mistaking it; the rancher's brow was twitching with confusion and surprise, his steely eyes flashing with intrigue and surprise. He hadn't registered this seriously. At his side, Malinna stared at the Princess with a similar confusion, doubtful of the fact that Zelda could fight as her brother did, something akin to pity about the look she gave—as if Zelda's wish to fight Link were simply a spoilt demand by a girl who'd thrown one punch and decided she was a warrior.

"You… wanted to fight me…?" Link asked, his face blank as he blinked with a vacant expression.

It was hard to imagine that the lovely Zelda would want to fight anyone seriously; she simply didn't look like the type to even approve of violence, let alone engage in it. In fact, despite the fact that Link had picked up on the possibility that she'd been trained earlier, to have it confirmed made him a bit concerned; the thought of Zelda being hit or hurt in any manner unsettled the boy greatly. He didn't know her, and true, he held no connection to her… perhaps it was his protective nature of the people around him, women in particular, but for some reason the boy could feel the same level of concern he might've if Malinna had been the subject of secret training.

"Why would a Princess… ever need to fight… for anything?" He whispered, more to himself, but knew Zelda had heard it as well.

Before she could reply, ears twitching, her attendant spoke for her. "She saw you and decided you'd be an ideal opponent… But after fighting you myself, I can see very plainly…" He gave a pointed glance to the girl, his words sharp. "…She'd only end up getting hurt."

Link flinched at this, though it was directed at Zelda—Had Sheik noticed his reactions to the strange energy in battle? Then again, he'd watched the fight with Badon… perhaps he was perfectly aware of it, and that's what this was about… seeing if he held the same breaking point in any conflict. The rancher sighed slightly, knowing that in that case, Sheik was right to test it. If for whatever reason this new… power was going to flare up and take him over in points of hazard, how could anybody be certain Link wasn't a danger to others? It would mean he couldn't even spar with anyone unless they were his superior and able to fend him off, lest he gravely injure or—as he almost had with Valenzuela—kill them.

And if that were true, then Sheik was right to bar Zelda from engaging him in future.

Malinna softened some then, trying to ease this new tension before it soured everything and, Gods forbid, caused another fight. "Hey, it's ok, you know… Even if you became stronger than all of us, Link doesn't fight women, anyway…" She offered, but when she received an icy look from Zelda, the red head flinched and returned to fussing over Link instead. "We should go get you cleaned up, too…" She said quietly.

The boy nodded, running a hand through his bangs as his sister dabbed at his nose with a handkerchief. "I know the way back…" He glanced to the Royal and her attendant, grimacing lightly. "We'll… uh…just excuse ourselves… you seem like you have… things to discuss…" Link gave a considerate sort of look, but it thinly veiled evident fatigue.

Zelda peered at the ground, her mouth pulled into a thin line as her hurt was swiftly turning into anger. She nodded, straining not to snap at them—Link was right, her issue here was with Sheik, after all.

"Yes… Ask one of the serving girls to fetch you a replacement shirt. My Father will be requesting your company toward the end of the Gala. Be presentable." She bit out rigidly, her fingers twisting into the sides of her dress, causing the fabric to shimmer in the moonlight.

Ganondorf drew his hand away from his brow with a heavy, irritated sigh, crossing his arms with a grunt of ascent and giving a small incline of his head. The ranchers' leaving was a very good idea, given what he may do to the Princess within a few moments if she didn't change her attitude immediately.

Malinna gave a final smile as she entwined her arm in Link's, pulling him along. "It was nice meeting you…" She called happily, though was quick turn away. If Link really was going to meet the King shortly, she had a lot of work to do making him look… well, as if he hadn't just fought a Shiekah.

Link looked over his shoulder as his sister walked him back into the maze, struggling against the threat of his legs giving out under him; there was something about those two he noticed now that he never could've before… he couldn't put his finger on it, but it worried him. Almost like there were other sides of the pair entirely, in direct contrast to their pleasantness.

He'd felt it when he had fought, Sheik was not one to think anything of causing harm or even killing, despite his role as a protector. The man had great restraint and obviously, he was a good guy if not a bit blunt, but behind that was a myriad of terrible fates to be handed out, if he so chose.

And Zelda was a bit of a mystery—she seemed so lovely, a friendly and warm individual, a lot like him in many ways. But also like him, able to become cold and harden herself to what was happening around her, detached. But just by her reaction when Sheik had told her she wouldn't be fighting whom she wished, he could also see that she could be prideful and strong willed enough to defy anyone, no matter who it was; Like Sheik or even the King himself, he thought.

Still, as the two of them disappeared to be separated by the hedging, Link's concerns faded some. Sheik wouldn't hurt Zelda, he was the reason she didn't find herself in harms way in the first place. Shaking his head, he decided to stop thinking for the rest of the evening.

Thinking was taking too much energy and getting him nowhere… and his bodily aches were getting hard to ignore now. He just needed to rest.

When Zelda was confident the ranchers were out of earshot, the scowl she gave to her attendant was fierce enough to make even Talleday step back and hold his tongue, were he alive. Her hands balled into fists, straining the silken material of her dress and making thick creases as they shook lightly.

"How dare you!" She hissed, crystalline eyes wide with vindication. "You could've waited until now to tell me that! Are you trying to embarrass me, or are you just bitter that he put up a better fight than you expected?"

It came so swiftly, she never saw it coming; not even her training could've prepared her for it, and coming from her attendant, Zelda had no hope of predicting it. The world moved sideward in a hazed blur, the shadows cast about the garden fooling her mind into thinking she'd gone temporarily blind as she fell, ears ringing. Her side connected with something firm, and as slowly sensation returned, she could feel the grass bend beneath her cheek. The pain had not come yet, in her shock, but the pressure of where the blow had landed was proof enough that it had happened. Her vision cleared and looking up, there was no doubt, the Shiekah holding his hand to the side of where her head had been.

He'd struck her down.

He glared down at her crumpled form without a hint of regret or pity, the fond warmth gone from his eyes. A moment passed, the silence palpable as Zelda could only stare up at him with glassed eyes and mouth slightly agape, a hand unconsciously coming to her cheek.

"If you want to fight me, Zelda, then I will allow you that… I will beat you within an inch of your life, and bring you back from the brink as many times as I feel I need to until you understand that you are not as capable as you think." He whispered, the timbre of his rich voice chilling. "But you will not be fighting the boy. If you fought him, you would be killed. I cannot allow this." He lied.

Zelda tried to speak, but choked upon the words as tears threatened to spill for the first time since she'd sworn against them. "I-I… Don't want… N-no…" She shook her head weakly, looking down to her trembling hands.

Ganondorf bent down, taking a knee and tilting her head up to endure eye contact, his gaze grizzled against the damage he'd taken. "You were wrong, Zelda…" He spoke quietly, though forcefully. "I am not the best teacher you've had. Clearly, I cannot break this emotional drive you have behind all of your endeavors. Did you not see?"

She watched his brow rise, ignoring the cut, and bit her lip as she found she'd not grasped his meaning. Blinking back the prickle of tears, a sob hitched in her throat as she stared into his eyes, seeing the golden glint—cold and unmoving, like a man about to slit another's throat clean.

When she did not answer, he simply continued. "Link does not fight with his emotion. Unstable things that they are… and yet, the instant he lets one through the cracks… he becomes a killer…" He reiterated slowly, sharp teeth forming the words into a snake like hiss, venomous. "A natural, born killer, just like that Uncle of his… And only a killer can fight another killer and win."

Zelda flinched as Sheik's face came close, losing any moonlight as his face was bathed with her shadow. "Are you a killer, Zelda? Would you snap a man's neck, or drive the blades I've taught you to wield into their eye, twisting it and watching them scream?"

The Princess froze; all of her movement, involuntary or not, ceasing completely as his words seemed to pierce her very soul. Her eyes widened just a fraction, pupils dilating as the gravity of what he was saying sunk in. She'd not entertained the thought, no… but would she? Was she even capable of such a thing? Never once had she considered the reality that, in fact, she was being trained in the art of death. Sheik himself had killed, and made no secret of that—even his time under the Dark Lord had forced his hand when necessary to kill the odd innocent. How could it not? He was, in every sense, the son of an Assassin clan.

The Shiekah commanded death, defied it, and brought it down upon others. Such was the purpose of their existence; a decider between when death came, and for whom.

A single tear rolled down the side of her face, over the quickly forming bruise, and slowly, Zelda found a steady voice. "…No… I… I wouldn't…" She confessed, a strange shame at her own weakness overriding any pride to be taken from moral standing.

"…I didn't think so." He spat, releasing her chin and standing once more to tower over her. Her head hung in shame beneath his gaze, but as the Gerudo looked down upon her, a strange smile appeared. "But there are two sides to every coin. Zelda may not be able to defeat Link, no… But the Shiekah in you most certainly could."

The girl looked up at him with some surprise, her beautiful eyes wavering up at him with the camber of lunar light shining across her irises. Ganondorf could feel the warmth returning for her, seeing her confidence broken so easily—perhaps he'd overreacted, Zelda was still very much his.

"I cannot deny that the boy is one of the only men I'd see fit as being able to serve as your captain in future… He's excellent, yes, and you deserve nothing less…" He pulled his face into a look of serious concern, easier now that he'd vented his frustration and affirmed Zelda's position under his boot. "But what makes him so effective is also what makes him a danger to you. If one day, for whatever reason, he decided to kill you, you'd have little hope of stopping him and by that time… he may equal even my skill."

It was partly a lie, and part truth—Link did indeed hold the potential to equal the Gerudo, as he always had, though it would not come to pass this time. Regardless, it was just the thing he needed to push Zelda into the next level. And if he played his cards right… the outcome would be beautiful. Letting the Hero live was a risk, but seeing him die was never assured if it were by his hand; Ganondorf knew well of fate's cycles and habits, and the Goddesses had arranged for his killing a Hero to be a hard task passed a certain point.

What they could never account for, was the Princess' attempt on his life instead.

"To ensure your safety… I must enable you to kill freely, should the need arise. But that is your choice…" He trailed off, looking heavenward with a considerate sort of look. "I would never force such a thing upon you. It comes at a grave cost, after all… innocence is hard come by, these days, but then if you give it willingly, you may avoid the pain of it being inevitably stolen." He shrugged, nonchalantly brushing the gravity of such a statement aside.

His crimson gaze quickly returned to her, and in them was a sincere question. "…Do you honestly think that the King of Evil will not kill you, as soon as he has what he requires? I may be strong, Zelda… but even I couldn't stand alone against such darkness. I'd need you to be capable of anything, even murder, if we're to get through it alive and well."

After a moment, it began to sink in, and Zelda's brow furrowed at the thought. Icy pink lips quivered with the want to say so many things, but couldn't settle upon any of them. Her fingers twitched, feeling the grass as if to draw some comfort from it, the sting of her cheek a harsh reminder of her own foolishness. Sheik was right; he'd always been right, and she should never have questioned him so accusingly. He only wanted the best for her.

He loved her, and he would become her King one day. Then he'd ensure not only her happiness and security, but that of the Kingdom as well.

"I…. I'm sorry, Sheik…" She whispered, letting slip a tiny sigh. "…I understand all of that, I do… Don't think I've forgotten what we face…" Sadness etched itself upon her beautiful features, even as she slowly picked herself up from the ground, standing before him with a downward gaze. "But I… Can you just… Let me think about it… for a while? I know this is important, and I haven't really got a choice… but I just want to think it all over before we start… truly facing it."

Ganondorf fought the urge to roll his eyes, playing along as he always did, and urged his hand forward to affectionately brush the cheek he'd struck, gentle, as if remorseful of it. Well, really, what was the harm in allowing her to contemplate the future? It wasn't as if she could change it, now. And so, he allowed himself to nod, training his face to look kindly upon his Princess.

"Of course, Zelda… There is still plenty of time. Think it over as you wish, and I will wait patiently until you are ready." His voice rolled smoothly now, a soothingly deep tone, bereft of the harsh inflection it'd held previously.

She smiled up at him, a small and entirely grateful thing, and a glove hand came to cover his large hand, holding it to her face and nuzzling it ever so slightly. Through the gesture flowed a warm and tingling magic, passed his hand to caress her skin, seeping into it and allowing the evidence of his assault to fade from existence, erased.

"I… I love you… Sheik…" Zelda murmured softly, a slight blush to tint her cheeks as her eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of his hand cupping her face softly.

The disguised Gerudo stared at her a moment, caught in a wonderment, as unseen, a monstrous smile betrayed everything the Princess could never see in him.

"I love you too, my Zelda…" He whispered, so easily did it slip from his silver tongue, his thumb stroking the flesh of her temple. "And I will never let you go."

A/N:

Oh my god, what is this I'm doing to myself.

Why, why more fight scenes? I hate them so… But it needed to be done.

And personally, I did want a brawl there. It needed to happen. Just a flat out brawl between Link and Ganon; no Triforce or destiny to it, just a good old fashioned punch up.

I love it.

And also, this resettles some of the things that got tossed up and around a lot over previous chapters, so now that we have thing reshuffled nicely and set back into place, FINALLY I can kill the king. Everything's been said, covered, and nothing should go amiss.

Also, next chapter, or in the next two especially, more Skyward Sword connections will crop up. I've staved them off as long as possible without being spoilery, but now I can't postpone them any longer. I did so purely out of respect for those readers who haven't actually played it through yet, but it's been a while, and most people should've had at least one playthrough down at this point.

So I will not take any guilt from spoilerific awesome now. Everybody should know about Demise and Ghirahim and all that jazz.

And I will take a moment to thank all my reviewers for the epic support, and of course, my consultant HeatherHallucination, because she's been super good whenever I've put ideas and suggestions for where the story is headed to her for opinions.

We've now gone officially past the half way point of the story, and I'm currently discussing a spin-off story from this that you will learn more about as it becomes appropriate to tell, so stay tuned and…

BE PREPAAAAAAARED! For what? FOR THE DEATH OF THE KING! Why is he sick?

No. We're going to kill him.

ONWARD TO GLORY!