Disclaimer: I wish I owned Zelda. Then I'd be all sorts of rich, and I could finally get that moose I've been wanting.

Author's Note: Meh, this is a little shorter than I'd hoped it would be, but oh well. I'm still pleased with it and I like how the second "scene" worked out. There's some crazy sexual tension/hinting at sexual tension here, but that's good. Sexual tension is fun to write, hurr. There's some plot development, but not a lot as of yet. Yay for plot development.

Inbetween Days: Happiness in Slavery

It was amazing how Phantom Ganon had taken Time for granted. He at first was startled by how quickly the days passed, but as his body adjusted to the flow that it had missed so sorely for so long, he found the hours to pass by pleasantly.

And during these pleasant hours, he contemplated how he might have possibly escaped his place of imprisonment—surely the magic Ganon, his master, used to banish him was powerful enough to seal the bridge between the realms thoroughly? Apparently, this was not true. So, Phantom Ganon had settled in the trees surrounding the Forest Temple to examine the Temple daily.

Perplexing was this situation; Hyrule and his previous place of inhabitance must have been connected in some manner—otherwise he wouldn't have been able to reach his destination when Ganon banished him. His first clear choice was the burning tree: he examined this as Blaz roamed the meadows, devouring fauna and a stray fairy or two as they crossed paths, and came to notice that other than the colors, this tree was uncannily similar to the tree that had caught fire in Other Realm, as he decided to call it.

The branches formed a twisted claw akin to Other Realm's trees—all of them looked nearly identical—and its roots were tangled just as the burning tree had been there. It took him a while to come up with an explanation for this, but he was certain he'd come up with the right one: the interconnected realms all have a certain point where there is a small gateway between them—in this case, it was the burning tree. Since it was situated so near to the Forest Temple, the main source of magic in the woods, its magic was heightened and when it caught fire, so did its counterpart. When this bonding between trees occurred, when Phantom Ganon and Blaz combined their magic with the magic of the tree and Hyrule's tree, that portal gripped and pulled them to the other side, thus leaving them in Hyrule.

It was also interesting, Phantom Ganon supposed, that he should end up at the place of his birth. He had been created right inside the Temple, and had never left its walls—yet he still knew this was his birthplace from its magic. Ganon, his master, and the temple both had their own unique magical identities; he supposed he had one as well, but Blaz was the only one who knew it by heart, most likely. Blaz's own magical identity was a little puzzling, but Phantom Ganon attributed this to him being from Other Realm.

Needless to say, Hyrule had never been more beautiful than it was the day the phantom could breathe deeply of its clean air and rejoice in it lacking decay.


There were many things kept secret within the Gerudo race. Most were secrets only because the rest of Hyrule dared not get close enough to learn of the lesser-known facts about the race of thieves.

The average Hylian, for example, did not even know of the Hundred Years Law—the law that stated the male born every hundred years was to be crowned the King of the Gerudo. Additionally, only the most learned Zoras knew the details of the beliefs behind this law: as the King lay dying in his deathbed, the Gerudo would perform a ceremony outside of his chambers that would allow his spirit to exit his body safely and possess the next ruler of the race. From the beginning of the Gerudo's time on the earth, the King's spirit had always met its destination and helped a pregnant woman achieve a safe birth to a baby boy.

The archives in the grand library in the Fortress held records of every birth and death of a King—each time the cycle held true; nine months was the timeframe between death and birth.

But even fewer beings knew her clothing portrayed a Gerudo's rank. Only perhaps in diaries of old that had somehow made their way from the Fortress mentioned the uniforms at all: they were so common and recognized to the point where they were mentioned once in the records and then never brought up again. Not even the Gerudo knew why the colors meant what they did, but they didn't concern themselves with this too much.

The girls with hair down only to their chins and dressed in ragged, all white clothing were apprentices. They watched the gate to the Haunted Wasteland, cared for the horses, and acted as treasurers for the training ground. They were the youngest of the Gerudo thieves, but held more ranking than the girls who chose to be entertainers or civilians, rather than warriors.

The girls in white would undergo training to become purple-clad guards. They kept their shoulder-length hair tied up and their faces hidden with veils. They also carried long staffs that ended in long blades and wore purple and silver gauntlets. They did nothing more than patrol the grounds of the Fortress, to watch for intruders. Their lives were often very bland, and not many were able to graduate to the next status.

The thieves and warriors themselves dressed in clothing as orange as the sand during sunset. Their faces were uncovered and their hair fell to the middle of their backs when unbound; however, when they wielded their twin scimitars, they would tie it up as they had when they were dressed in purple—this time, though, the strips of cloth they used were bejeweled.

Nabooru, the leader of the Gerudo, wore whatever she so pleased, but her second-in-command, Chandra, wore rich green with jewelry on her forehead, in her hair, and around her neck. Her gauntlets were green, but she bothered with politics, rather than stealing and fighting.

Then there were a select few girls who were, just maybe, even more important than Chandra herself. These were the King's mistresses. Their faces were unbound, and they were just as beautifully jeweled. They could fight, as traditionally, the King would often watch his favorite mistresses battle each other for sport. No harm would befall either, however, as it wasn't unheard of for one girl to sabotage another's beauty out of jealousy.

Their clothing was similar to the second in command's, but with a lighter, finer material. They wore elbow length gloves rather than gauntlets, and their hair fell to the smalls of their backs unbound. They were pampered, but they could care for themselves; no King would ever have it any other way.

It was this carefully tailored ensemble that Isoke looked upon with a great lead ball of worry in her stomach.

"Nalini?" she called hesitantly.

"What is it, Isoke?" her best friend answered, her tone filled with impatience.

"I feel rather faint."

"That's to be expected. Put your head between your knees and I'll be in to help you dress in a moment." Isoke did as she was told and inhaled deeply, gulping down air; it was a matter of moments before she got the hiccups. Nalini rolled her eyes in amused disdain and joined her friend. "Honestly, Isoke. It's not all that terrible," she cooed, rubbing her back.

"You've been Ganon's mistress for two years now, Nalini. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I'm just graduating from a thief today."

"But you've been preparing for this, haven't you?" Isoke nodded slowly as her friend stroked her hair soothingly. "Come now; let's get you into these clothes."

One dizzy spell later, Isoke was dressed beautifully in her new clothing and was running her fingers nervously through her hair. "You're certain I'll be good enough…?"

Nalini merely waved her hand dismissively and pushed her out of her bedchambers and into the corridor of the Fortress. The two women dressed in purple looked her over and whispered to each other, claiming they remembered when Isoke, now seventeen, was naught but a toddler. How she had grown! they whispered, leading her along the hall.

Isoke tried to ignore them as other girls—there were seven in all, including herself and Nalini—began to follow them. Nalini walked behind Isoke and to her left, her gorgeous eyes catching Isoke's gaze. "You'll be fine," she murmured in her ear, planting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Isoke touched the other girl's slender fingers and smiled half-heartedly, then turned to the front. She heard the last two girls, the twin sisters Ambika and Messina, joined their line. They would enter Ganon's chambers and they would join him to watch some of the artistic civilians dance for him. Normally, of course, it would be his mistresses who danced, but Ganon had expressed his interest in watching something new for this evening's entertainment.

Nabooru was not at the Fortress—nor would she ever be again, the Gerudo expected; she was the Sage of Spirit and had a hand in opposing Ganondorf. She was an exile now. Where she once would have sat, Chandra took her place. She leaned over to Ganon, who sat rather slumped in his throne, and murmured something in his ear. Isoke was a little put off by the murmuring that seemed to follow her everywhere, but she just lifted her chin and tried to look confident.

She wasn't sure how she was to accomplish this, as she felt awful on the inside. She loved Ganon, like most Gerudo did, and she always would, but … he unsettled her. The sheer power he commanded frightened her. She felt a little tension from the other girls behind her, finding relief in the common discomfort.

Ganon perked up and met her gaze steadily; she felt herself trembling, and hoped that she would compose herself before she reached him. Chandra was standing now and ready to address her people.

"Silence!" The crowd quieted, with only a murmur here or there coming up in giddy disobedience. "All of you must be overjoyed to see your King seated upon his throne once more!" Cheers filled the chambers, making Isoke flinch. Chandra continued, "And you will all be greatly pleased to join us in watching the dancers as we feast tonight!" The cheers grew louder.

Chandra looked pleased with herself and nodded before sitting once more, touching Ganon's arm lightly with the tips of her fingers. The Gerudo King said nothing, but his eyes scanned the faces of his mistresses. As he motioned to them to move forward, Nalini rested her hand against Isoke's lower back, giving her a small push. The girls all settled on the soft, brightly coloured pillows surrounding Ganon's throne. A few snuggled in close to him, singing him praise and gratitude at his return to power.

Isoke and Nalini, however, settled comfortably together and put one other girl between his thigh and themselves. His eyes met Isoke's nonetheless and he tilted her chin up gently. "You… You're new, aren't you?" Isoke forced herself to meet his gaze briefly. Now that she was closer, she noticed he was strangely… warm. Perhaps not compassionate, by far, and she knew what he was capable of, but he wasn't a heartless being at all.

"Yes, Sir. This is my first day as a mistress," she squeaked, shifting.

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes taking in her slender, toned body. "How old are you, girl?"

"I've just recently turned seventeen," she answered, finding herself wishing to press her face affectionately into his large hands.

"Hmm." Again he fell silent, caressing her chin with the calloused pad of his thumb. "Your name?" It wasn't so much a question as it was a demand.

"Isoke, Sir."

"Good." She looked at him questioningly, noting the hardness in his orange eyes, and let her hands cover his absently. "It's a good name," he continued, then pulled away from her to settle against the back of his throne.

Nalini nudged her friend and leaned in close, her hot breath tickling her ear. "You're trembling." Isoke looked at her, frowning.

"I am not," she hissed back.

Nalini smiled and pat her hand. "I suppose it happens to everyone. He's … interesting, to say the least," she whispered. "There's just something about him," she continued, rather nonchalantly.

The dancers began pouring into the room, parting the crowd of women serving the wine and food (Isoke registered then that she was famished, having not eaten the day before for fear of not being able to keep anything down), and the music began to play. The torches hung on the walls of the Fortress had more fatty oil poured on them, to increase the flame; the women watching the torches were very careful while performing this task, naturally. The stone walls glowed merrily in the night, and the fire danced as if joining in the celebration.

Isoke also cuddled closer to Ganon, nearly leaning her torso against his knee—with legs as long as his, she wasn't at all surprised—and watched the women dressed in scarves and skirts covered in gold coins. She supposed she would dance for the King one day just as these women were, and the thought both terrified and excited her.

Perhaps she would find some happiness in this "slavery," after all.


Chandra watched Ganon remove his clothing from the doorway to his bedchambers. "My King, I'm still not sure I understand how you were able to escape the Sacred Realm," she said, wrapping her arms around her stomach loosely.

"Neither do I," he admitted. "But that wretched Phantom of mine finally proved to be of some use."

"You spoke to him?" the second-in-command asked, approaching the Gerudo King.

"Of course, you fool," he snarled. "You think I would accept my escape so easily? Those damned Sages," his fist clenched and his jaw tightened in fury. "Their magic is not so pitiful that it would be an easy feat to release me," he spat. "That phantom made no sense as to how he managed it."

"And the beast?"

"What of it?"

"It is rumored it possesses magic," Chandra said, examining her nails in a bored manner.

"Feh. That thing? Perhaps. But I don't know why I should care if it does. All it seems to do is follow the phantom around like a lost puppy. It's worthless to me," Ganon said, turning to gaze out the window of his chamber. "All that matters now is making sure the loyalty of the people is still mine to command."

"Yes, my King."

"Anyone found guilty of treason is to be hanged, you understand?" Chandra nodded as she moved next to him, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. He shrugged her hand off and glared down at her. She met his gaze, unfazed, and he grunted at her. "Don't touch me," he mumbled, looking back out into the cold desert sands.