welcome to chapter 1 of Ganon Does Things Grumpily, I hope you enjoy your stay! chapter 2 goes up next month if all goes well.


Ganon sucks in his first lungful of air in millennia, and immediately regrets it. His muscles seize, and he spasms before starting to cough uncontrollably. Opening his eyes goes about as well as can be expected; the light is blinding and focusing on anything is impossible. He manages to roll onto his knees, and vomits black bile until there's nothing left in his stomach, and then some.

Resurrection has never been pleasant, but this time, he thinks, might be the most painful of them all.

With a groan, he falls backwards and raises a trembling hand to his face to block out the light as he tries to sort through his jumbled memories. He remembers darkness. A crushing abyss, suddenly waking to find himself trapped, and –

The girl!

He jerks upright only to immediately collapse onto his back again, body not yet up to the task of sitting. His mind is spinning. The girl. Hylia's avatar, it had to be.

take my hand!

He saw the divine energy pulsing through her, glowing bright as a star – but instead of turning it on him, she'd helped him. Freed him. But to what purpose? What reason could she possibly have for aiding him? What reason to keep him alive? He doesn't understand.

His vision starts to focus; the light that was so blinding initially softens into early morning sunshine, and the blue blur solidifies into a sky full of puffy white clouds. There's a breeze on his face, and grass underneath him, he realizes. It's warm. Carefully he sits back up, and when his body doesn't rebel, he starts to take stock of his surroundings. He's sitting in a field of swaying long grass and wildflowers. The rolling green hills stretch out before him, dotted with trees, and in the distance he can see snow-capped mountains. Hyrule. He's in Hyrule.

He looks down and starts at the sight of his own body. He's wearing the same black armor he was wearing the day he was first sealed away in the Sacred Realm. That can't possibly be right. He remembers… other times, other forms. He remembers – he shudders involuntarily – he remembers losing his Gerudo form, and becoming a true monster, unable to turn back. But those memories all feel hazy now, like something out of a bad dream.

He carefully rolls himself into a crouch and, when his legs feel sure enough, he stands slowly. A weapon, that's what he needs now; the field is quiet but for the sounds of birds, but he doesn't believe for a second the Hylians won't come for him eventually. He casts around for his greatsword, but it's nowhere in sight, and –

Din's fire. So that's where he came from.

He's finally gotten a good look at what lies directly behind him: Hyrule Castle, or at least he thinks it is. It's surrounded by enormous pillars of black stone that stab into the sky, pulsing with bright, angry pink lights, and a black mist shot with the same virulent pink swirls around it. As soon as he lays eyes on it, he recognizes it.

Malice. Demise.

He clenches his fists, a snarl rising in his throat involuntarily. As if in a trance, he raises his left hand, seeking the Power deep within him. For a moment, the triangle on the back of his hand shines brilliantly – and then, suddenly, something catches. There's a feeling of resistance, and he pulls against it, until finally something snaps inside him like a frayed cord breaking, and it hurts, and he falls to his knees, gasping, a cold sweat breaking out across his brow. In the distance, there's a deep rumbling from the castle, and the black fog shoots up into the air like a geyser, and he has the sudden feeling of being caught under a baleful glare.

As if to confirm his intuition, there's a rapid thud-thud-thud noise as some sort of machine comes skittering over the hillside. It carries itself on six prehensile arms – or perhaps they're legs – and has a bucket-like head with a single eye that swivels like it's searching for something. Someone. It spots him instantly, and the glowing marks on its body turn from blue to the exact same shade of pink that streaks through the black fog around Hyrule Castle. One of its arms shoots out towards him. He dives out of the way – barely – but another arm slams into his midsection, driving the air from his lungs. It hoists him up in the air, and he is too weak to fight it.

Spitting a curse, he reaches deep inside for magic he hasn't used in thousands of years, and warps out of its grasp.

He barely makes it fifty feet, landing on the other side of the hill in a trembling heap and taking great gulps of air so he doesn't black out, but it's enough to break line of sight. He hears the thud-thud-thud of the machine's footsteps, and despite all his muscles screaming at him to stop, he scrambles into cover behind a half-destroyed wall nearby. He can hear its thumping gait as it searches the area for him. His hiding place is inadequate at best; it'll find him soon if he does nothing.

He takes another deep breath, focuses on his training, and thinks: again. Then he warps over the next hill, further from the machine. He actually does black out for a second this time, but he can no longer hear its footsteps, so he takes it as a victory. But it comes with a clear cost: he's drained what little reserves of strength he had. If the machine should happen to come in this direction, he's finished. He lies back in the grass and waits to hear its footsteps, but they never appear. The field remains peaceful, and quiet except for the buzzing of insects, and the sounds of birdsong. The sun is high in the sky before he feels recovered enough to climb raggedly to his feet.

Ganon is many things, but stupid is not one of them; it cannot be coincidence that the machine appeared, lit up with Malice's glow, mere instants after he tried to use the Triforce of Power. That thing, whatever it is, was hunting him, specifically. He cannot stay out in the open fields; he's risked much by staying as long as he has. He has to move.

He strikes out as near to southwest as he can manage; there are reddish mountains in the distance – mountains that, in the past, had served as the border between Hyrule and Gerudo territory – and he uses them to orient himself. There's no question of going anywhere else, after all. A singular drive has taken position at the forefront of his mind: he must find out what has become of his people.

As he walks, the rest of his scattered memories begin to fall into place.

He remembered the desert when he first woke up, of course – nothing could take that from him – but the details were fuzzy, more a feeling than a memory. These are the first to return to him: the heat of the sun and sand like an endless golden sea; the sky lit up in fiery reds and oranges and pinks at sunset. His sisters, his mothers. All returned to the desert's embrace, now. Nabooru comes back to him with a pang of sorrow he doesn't understand until he remembers her standing on the other end of a spear, saying I can't let you do this.

Goddesses, she'd been right.

He remembers the years of want, of not enough food to go around. He remembers the desperation that led him to try and seize the Triforce, and then he spends a good few hours mentally berating himself for his own carelessness. Of course the Hylians' fabled golden power would be cursed – how fitting that the race that hoarded Hyrule's bounty for itself and treated others like dirt should worship something tainted by darkness. His first mistake was thinking the Goddesses would not spit in his face.

Now, with his mind clear for the first time in uncountable ages, he can see how it had been poisoning him from the very beginning; making him cruel, wanton, savage – he'd wanted to conquer Hyrule for the sake of his people, not destroy it.

But destruction is exactly what seems to have happened, he's realizing. He's yet to meet another living soul out in Hyrule Field; so far he's seen nothing but empty, hollowed-out ruins. He briefly wonders if there are any Hylians left. If there's anyone left at all. Perhaps he's the last living soul in Hyrule – him, and the Princess in her castle. It wouldn't even be the first time he's had the run of an empty kingdom.

A now-familiar thudding sound breaks his line of thought, and he instantly crouches behind a nearby oak, hiding himself in the tall grass as another one of those machines comes into view up the side of a hill. Miraculously, its roving eye doesn't spot him pressed against the tree trunk, and he waits with bated breath until at last it turns and scuttles back the way it came from like some hideous black insect. Breathing a sigh of relief, he swings in a wide arc southward to avoid it before turning east again. It takes him across a rare sign of civilization: a road. It's obviously old and in complete disrepair, flagstones cracked or half-sunk in the earth – but there are hoofprints and wheel tracks in the hardened mud, fresh enough that they can't be more than a week old.

So there are still other people left in Hyrule.

It's nearly sunset when he spies the glint of water through a copse of trees and suddenly realizes he's parched; he nearly trips over an exposed root and falls flat on his face as he rushes towards it, dropping to his knees by the edge. He drinks until he's sated, and only then do the waters still enough for him to see his own reflection.

He looks… young. Younger even than he was when he first claimed Power, which makes little sense, but he's beginning to suspect his current form has more to do with the manner of his latest resurrection than any choice on his part. His hair is long, held in check by his topaz coronet and a clasp at the back; a few coppery strands catch the light of the fading sun as they trail over his shoulder into the water. His eyes, tawny gold as ever, are wide, and he quickly schools his expression.

The pond turns out to lie near the ruins of a large building; a weathered stone plaque declares it to be the Hyrule Exchange. Looking around the shattered buildings, he can imagine the goods that once might have been traded here. Echoes of the kingdom's prosperity are everywhere, it seems.

He spends the night in the ruins, wrapped in his cape to ward off the night chill, hardly daring to sleep in case another of the machines appears. Almost despite himself he falls into a light doze when the moon is past its zenith, and only wakes up when he hears birds singing.

The faint pre-dawn light is starting to creep across the sky, and he groans as he stretches. Despite his youthful appearance he feels every one of his years; the cold has sunk into his bones, making them ache.

Now that it's light out, he risks using his magic to light a small fire to warm himself up. Even a trick this simple is hard, and he wonders if it's simple lack of practice or if his magical abilities somehow got left behind inside the Malice when he was expelled from it. It'd be just his luck.

He picks some apples from a nearby tree and continues on his way south-east, only to find, after a half-hour's walk, that his path is blocked by a lake. A spire of rock rises from it, with what looks like the ruins of a colosseum nestled in the center. He can feel echoes of Malice coming from it all the way over here, so instead of drawing any closer he heads west, skirting the water until it turns into a small stream. A small wooden bridge spans over it; bokoblin work, judging from the roughness. He keeps an eye out as he crosses over and starts trudging up a hill, but there doesn't seem to be any around at the moment.

The sheer, rust-colored cliffs that had seemed so hazy and distant yesterday are almost close enough to cast a shadow over him now; he wonders if he might make it to Gerudo Canyon before the sun sets. He'll have to stop to look for food eventually; a handful of apples won't keep him going for long.

He crests a ridge and finds himself on another road, one that looks better-traveled than the last. He turns southward along it, and after a few hours, he rounds a bend and spots the first real sign of civilization he's seen. A stable, by the looks of it – little more than a glorified tent and a small bathhouse. It'd be entirely unremarkable if not for the giant wooden horse's head that forms the roof (and really, what is it with Hylians and bizarre architecture?). His instincts tell him to avoid the place, weakened as he is; it's not yet midday, he could simply continue traveling. But he's hungry, and tired after two days of hardly any sleep. He should be able to get supplies here, and directions, assuming the Hylians don't immediately call the guard on him. Assuming there's a guard left to call on.

Every eye in the immediate vicinity turns to look at him as he crosses the yard – most with varying degrees of wariness – but nobody makes any move to stop him. They're not entirely stupid, it would seem.

It's only as he's approaching the front counter he realizes there's a problem: he doesn't have any money. He hasn't needed any for tens of thousands of years. But without it, his only option is to sell a piece of jewelry. He bites down on an unpleasant grimace and unclasps his topaz circlet and sets it down on the counter before the stablemaster, a man with tan skin, green eyes, and a neat goatee.

"My coronet," he says shortly before the other man can speak, "for a night's rest and supplies." Hylians, he knows, are driven by greed; he doubts the man will be able to resist such an outrageous offer.

The stablemaster takes a short breath and picks up the coronet, holding it up to the light, clearly impressed. But then he lays it back down and says, "I cannot accept this."

Ganon bristles. Does he think it stolen? He opens his mouth to argue – or perhaps threaten; he's been permanently at the end of his tether since he awoke and this Hylian is testing his patience – when the stablemaster continues, oblivious to Ganon's rising temper.

"This is a fine piece of Gerudo craftwork! It's worth far too much for just a single night's rest and some food."

He's shocked, despite himself. Of all the reasons to refuse the trade, a sense of fairness hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Then allow me my pick of the weapons you have, as well. I… lost mine."

The stablemaster laughs. "I doubt we have anything worthy of your time – ah, but that reminds me! Botrick, the man who patrols the road, you might have met him on your way here? –" Ganon shakes his head – "told me of some moblins that have made their home near Lake Kolomo east of here. They're harassing travelers on the road, making it hard to get deliveries from the other side of the Dueling Peaks."

Ganon leans forward, bracing his hands on the counter. He thinks he can see where this is going.

"Now, you look like a man who can handle himself; get rid of those moblins for us, and you can stay the night – and I'll even throw in the sword for free." The Hylian reaches under the counter and withdraws a shortsword. "Not quite suited to your stature, but better than nothing, eh?" he smiles.

Ganon considers the deal; as weak as he is, he can probably still take on a few moblins without much trouble. And it would be useful to have a weapon.

"Very well," he says, grabbing the hilt. "Just point me in the right direction."


The stablemaster – Embry, he'd introduced himself as – directs him eastward past a rocky butte, and the moblins prove easy to find after that: all he has to do is follow the stench. There are two of them, crouching down amidst a pile of bones, eating… something. An animal, or an unlucky traveler? Either way, they're beyond help now.

Stealth is by no means his strong suit, but the beasts are preoccupied with their meal, and he manages to sneak up behind them without being noticed. This close, he can sense the Malice clinging to them like a mist, and he feels a brief and unexpected pang of regret. If the Malice could control him, what chance did they ever have? They are utterly in its thrall. But there's nothing he can do for them besides granting them release. So he drives his sword into the base of one's skull with a heavy crunch, planting his boot on its back for leverage as he rips the blade out and whirls. It decapitates the other before it can stand.

Ganon breathes a small sigh of relief as he stands between the cooling corpses. Magic might be mostly beyond him at the moment, but at least he resurrected in peak physical shape.

Embry looks surprised to see him return so quickly, but the blood splashed on his armor leaves no doubt of his success.

"Ah, you're back!" he greets, smiling broadly. "I can't thank you enough – we'll be able to get supplies from the east, and people can travel safely again. At least until the next Blood Moon, anyway!"

"Blood Moon?" Ganon's never heard of the term before. Embry looks astounded.

"Don't tell me you don't know about the Blood Moon! Have you been living under a rock your whole life?"

The man's tone rankles at him – too familiar, bordering on disrespectful – but he breathes in, reminding himself this Hylian has no idea who he is, and that he wants to keep it that way. And he's treated Ganon fairly so far, whatever his tone.

"I've been… away. I've not set foot in Hyrule for many years."

"You must have traveled far, then!" Embry looks somewhat skeptical, but doesn't push. "Well, if you were wondering, on unlucky nights when the moon is full, monsters in Hyrule come back to life! Nobody knows how or why, save that it must be the work of some evil magic." He shrugs one shoulder. "But since nobody knows how to stop it from happening, we have to live with it, eh?"

Ganon thinks back to the Malice that clung to the moblins. He knows exactly how they're coming back to life, he thinks.

"You must be tired, though – please! Go in and rest. I'll have Canni bring in some supper for you." Embry waves him in, and he sheds the bulkier (and most bloodstained) parts of his armor and sets them down on an empty bed before taking a seat at one of the tables. There's a few other travelers already eating, and the nearest one nods at him as he sits. A moment later a bowl of stew and a mug of some kind of ale are set in front of him.

"First time I've ever met a Gerudo – you come from the desert?"

Ganon looks up from his meal, surprised to be spoken to. It's the man who'd nodded at him earlier. Ganon takes quick stock of him: young, average height, well-muscled but not burly. If the Hylian means trouble, he can take him in a fight.

He realizes suddenly he's yet to answer. "... Originally," he says, grudgingly. "I'm returning, not leaving."

"I see. I'm Timas, by the way – and you?" he extends a hand.

Using his own name is likely a very bad idea. "... Dagah," he says at last, accepting the hand cautiously. It's a nondescript name, originally Gerudo but common enough that he knows it's used across Hyrule as well; or was, in the past. Nondescript is exactly what he needs right now.

Unfortunately, the Hylian takes even his reluctant politeness as permission to start bombarding him with questions – about the Gerudo, the desert, himself. Where he's traveled, where he learned to fight. The sorts of questions that make alarm bells ring in his head. Who is this Hylian, to ask such questions of him? A soldier, a spy? He answers as vaguely as he can without arousing suspicion. But as he turns back to his ale, asking himself if he needs to find a way to discreetly dispose of the man, he catches the Hylian openly ogling his thighs out of the corner of his eye.

… Oh. Oh.

He's not mining for information. He's flirting.

Ganon snorts into his mug despite himself. Well. That's certainly a far cry from the days Hylians would whine and wail about Gerudo crossing the border to steal away their innocent men. If circumstances were different, he might well take the man up on his flirtation, show him how the Gerudo treat their lovers. But he has his armor to clean, and he intends to leave as early as possible tomorrow, so he merely nods at Timas – amused at the look of open disappointment on the other man's face – before turning in.


The sun hasn't yet burned off the early morning mist when he sets off the next day; the air is so crisp it almost burns his lungs.

Embry saw him off with a pack full of food – bread, dried fruits and nuts, mostly – and directions to the canyon entrance. It's even closer than he expected, and he finds it easily before the sun's gone much higher. Of course, finding it was the easy part. The numerous enemies between him and the other side of the canyon pose a slightly bigger problem. He can count a wizzrobe, a few moblins, something big on the central stack, and what looks to be bokoblins on horses on the far side.

The first group proves easy enough to elude – the wizzrobe could cause him trouble, but it's far away and more preoccupied with dancing around the ruins of a house than paying any real attention, and moblins aren't exactly known for their perception. He manages to sneak around the giant (which reveals itself to be a sleeping hinox as he draws closer) fairly easily as well, leaving only the bokoblins on horseback. These, he knows, will have to be dealt with directly; the horses can outrun him if he tries to simply push past, and the bokoblins are armed with spears.

He walks out into the open. One shrieks and immediately starts galloping towards him, spear at the ready; Ganon waits, bending his knees almost imperceptibly as the bokoblin draws near.

Now!

He spins to one side, grabs the haft of the bokoblin's spear and uses it to fling the creature to the ground before stabbing it with its own weapon. He vaults onto the horse as it rears, calming it just in time to gain control before the other bokoblin reaches him; the fight ends quickly enough after that.

Both of them were carrying rupees – likely stolen off travelers, but a lucky break for him. He pockets the money and remounts the dark bay horse he'd so unceremoniously dumped the bokoblin off, turning it up the path.

The rest of the journey through the canyon is easy enough; being on horseback makes it far easier to avoid monsters, even if the horse is a little small for him. He starts to see signs of Gerudo presence as he draws further into the canyon – the lanterns, the walkways spanning the walls, the banners – and hope for his kingdom wells in his chest despite himself.

Despite all that's happened, the Gerudo clearly still exist; their craftsmanship, at least, is recognized beyond the borders of the desert. And to the north lies Hyrule Kingdom, all but undefended. He could reclaim his throne, lead his sisters to glory and prosperity beyond compare, all with minimal bloodshed. He could finally accomplish the destiny he's been seeking since he was old enough to understand what it was to want.

The canyon is steeped in evening shadow by the time he reaches the end of it, rounding a bend to see another stable (with another giant wooden horse head on top; he makes a mental note to ask the stablemaster here about it), lantern light spilling invitingly out from inside. He stops to remove his armor somewhere out of sight; this close to Gerudo lands, it's increasingly likely that someone will recognize the unique tooling that marks him as king, and ask questions. Lacking a proper saddlebag, he wraps it in his cape and carries it under his arm.

He still feels wary heading up to the counter, but this stablemaster is even friendlier than the last, and clearly more used to the company of Gerudo. He pays for a bed, registers his horse – the giant horse head apparently doubles as both a landmark and a sort of shrine to the God of Horses, who knew – and buys a proper cloak with a hood. It's Hylian make, but the sizing and the pattern around the edge are Gerudo; as jarring as the contrast is, it doesn't really matter. It'll keep the sun off his head, and won't give away his identity to anyone with minimal knowledge of desert history or culture.

He sits by the firepit to consider his next move. By the old laws, he is the rightful king of the Gerudo, but the Gerudo are masterful keepers of their own history: if anyone remembers the history of his campaign to claim the Triforce of Power, and the disastrous fallout, it'd be his sisters. He will have to be careful about how he plays his hand, especially without his magic to aid him.

He looks up as someone new approaches the stable: a Gerudo. Her eyes widen in surprise as they land on him, but she merely nods and sits by the fire as well. He's suddenly glad he's shed his armor.

"Vasaaq," she says. "Now here's a sight you don't see every day. Where has a gem like you been all my life?" She speaks to him in Gerudo, and it feels incredibly good to hear his own language again, even if some of the conjugation has changed. He shakes his head, smiling at her directness. It seems his people haven't changed at all, and the thought warms him.

"I have been traveling outside of Hyrule for many years, sister."

"A damn shame. I am Calista, legendary treasure hunter," she introduces herself.

"Dagah."

"A proper name for a proper voe. I'd lock you in my vault alongside my brightest finds." She leans back, not even bothering to hide the once-over she gives him, and he laughs.

"Then you have a fine eye." He lets the conversation hang for a moment before nudging it in a more productive direction. "Tell me, sister – I have not set foot in the desert for many years. How fare our people?"

"Well, considering the circumstances. If you've been away you wouldn't have heard the old chief died."

"I hadn't, no."

"Mm – a couple years ago. Her daughter Riju is chief now; she's young, but she's doing admirably. We're all proud of her."

A child chieftain? It's like the Goddesses themselves intend for him to retake his kingdom. It won't even be a challenge. He ignores the subtle, grating sense of unease that flickers in the back of his mind.

Calista continues to explain the happenings of the past few years, and he participates just enough to let her know he's listening, occasionally asking for clarifications where he thinks he can do so without arousing suspicion. The greater part of his focus, though, is turned towards the future. He envisages returning to Hyrule Castle at the head of a conquering army, and ripping the Triforce of Power away from the monster that's held him in its claws for so long.

He stays by the fire until long after the moon has risen and the cold night wind from the desert comes whistling down the canyon, and everyone else is asleep.


The following morning, he slips out of the stable just as dawn starts to paint the sky in delicate yellows and pinks. The air is still frigid, but even this early in the day it's ripe with the promise of heat. He estimates it won't be more than a few hours before it's too hot for the average Hylian. He approaches the small embankment that leads to the desert proper – and stops. And sits, staring out at the dunes stretching out before him.

Goddesses, he's an idiot.

Was he really intending to overthrow a child to lead an army of Gerudo to assault the castle for his own benefit?

Because that's exactly what this is: the first time he invaded Hyrule, it was for the sake of his sisters as much as for his own desires – but the Gerudo are fine now. More than fine; everything points to them not just surviving but flourishing, as much as it's possible to flourish in this strange, fallen Hyrule. And from from his conversation with Calista, it's evident the sisters love their young chief; he has no doubt they will fight for her, old laws of sovereignty or no.

He refuses to rule his people from atop a pile of corpses.

He turns his back to the desert, and leaves.


Away, north-east of the desert, there's a fluttering sound as a boy lands on the remains of a highway. He folds his paraglider away, looks to the east, and nods before he starts walking.

.


see that? *throws confetti* growth.

chapter 2 will... definitely have more Link in it, lmao.

also! I stole the name Dagah (which is what Ganon will be going by for the foreseeable future so uhhh I sure hope you all like it) from one of the shrines in the game, but it's ALSO a deliberate reference to a fic called Interim on AO3, which is also a Zelda/Link/Ganon fic set in the BotW universe and is? amazing? everyone go read it right now if you haven't already