Disclaimer: Man, it'd be neat if I owned Zelda. So, umm, I'll trade my respiratory tract infection for it.
Author's Notes: So, obviously I got somewhat lazy in writing, but now that I have the abovementioned problem with my lungs, I've had some time to sit down and write and plot out things. Go me, I suppose.
Inbetween Days: Wheelbarrows in the Library
Ganon frowned down at his phantom. It was true the being spoke a language he had never heard before, but he could understand him nonetheless. "You're saying a tree brought you back from Other Realm?" he asked. So far, everything he said was said slowly, as if this would help the phantom understand him.
"Yes," he answered excitedly.
"A tree. And how, pray tell, did a tree overpower my magic that bound you there?" The phantom stared blankly for a moment, and then shrugged. Ganon didn't regret much in his life; in fact, he could count off his regrets on one hand.
One finger would go up for that time he provoked cuccos at age five and broke his arm running from them. His mother sobbed and scolded him furiously for the week he was laid up in bed to recover.
Another was for the time, when he was just discovering what that peculiar (but pleasant) tingling in his groin meant, he slept with that archer; she was perhaps eighteen at the time, and he was four years younger. He didn't even know her name; she was whipped the next morning and thrown in the dungeons, where she hung herself with her bed sheets within the year. Of course, not knowing her name and her "untimely" demise were hardly the regretful parts of that encounter. She had been terrible in bed. Very noisy, too.
The third finger went up for not killing the Hero of Time the first time he had gotten the chance.
The fourth for allowing that filthy traitor, Zelda, to live.
And, as of now, the last finger gnawed at him most passionately. He should have given the phantom some kind of intelligence.
"Well, Blaz, I think you're perfectly pleasant," Isoke whispered playfully. The great Ganondorf and his phantom had visited the beast a few days ago, and the phantom had been chatting away in a language she didn't understand. Ganondorf seemed to comprehend his babbling, however, as on occasion, he would interject a half-hearted "Yes," "All right," "Really?" "Uh huh," or just a soft grunt. Once, though, he pat the creature on the muzzle, then looked curiously down at the phantom.
"You named it Blaz?" Phantom Ganon had nodded, earning a sigh and a shrug from the Gerudo King, then the grunting began again.
Blaz murred at Isoke as she pet his side. He was a much better conversationalist than the horses he now stayed with. He slept outside the stables near the archery grounds, and paid the other animals no mind.
"You know, everyone says you're just a stupid beast, but I hardly believe that," Isoke continued. Blaz seemed to agree to this with an indignant snort. "Exactly," she giggled. She leaned in closer, scratching above his eye crest just as he liked. "You must promise not to tell anyone," she whispered, "But I believe that the great Ganondorf gives too little credit to the phantom. He might not be the best thinker out of all of us, Blaz, but he's certainly clever."
Blaz offered no speculation; he grumbled in a non-committal manner then pulled away to curl up in his sleep spot.
Two of Ganon's mistresses huddled together in the library. The shelves and rows of old books, some written in Common tongue, most written in the language of the Gerudo, seemed to go on endlessly, and the warm rays of sun illuminated the titles of various volumes as it spilled in through the windows.
Hanging above the fireplace—which went unused except for chilly nights—was a large portrait of Ganondorf, and on either side were pictures of his mothers. To the left were the witches, Koume and Kotake, who raised him and honed his magical talents. To the right, however, was his birthmother, Genet.
Genet had been a wonderful woman, if not a little too protective of her son. She would sit Ganon's friends down some nights, and tell them stories of the Zoras or the Gorons until they drifted off to sleep and she tucked them neatly into bed.
But, of course, when Koume and Kotake decided she was too softhearted to raise their next King, they brainwashed her, drove her to insanity, and then killed her. Even though it was technically a form of treason, many of the older women in the Fortress—the ones lucky enough to have known Genet—adored her and blocked her last dying days from their minds. Instead, they focused on her shining, bright eyes, her compassionate smile, and her long, flowing hair. Genet always let the girls play with her hair, as if she was their personal doll.
She had been very popular for her personality, not because she had given birth to the next King. Unfortunately for the Gerudo, who still mourned her silently on the anniversary of her death, this was not enough to keep the kind woman alive.
This also did not keep Ganon's most loyal followers from despising her, either.
True to tradition, the King's mistresses were often the most educated in the Gerudo tribes. Also true to an unspoken tradition between those two mistresses huddled together, there was nothing but complete silence in the room…until one of them grew bored.
"I don't get it."
"You don't get it?"
"No. I don't see any hidden meaning to this Goron trash, and I think you're only trying to drive me insane by making me read it."
Ambika sighed as her sister pouted, and the older girl brushed her fingers through her bangs. "That's the point," she argued.
"What point?"
"Here, look; we're looking at a poem about Goron tools, are we not?" Messina nodded, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Do you even know what a wheelbarrow is?" the elder girl enquired.
"I think so," Messina admitted.
"Forgive me, sister, I had nearly forgotten how opposed to work you are," Ambika teased, and Messina let out an indignant 'humph.' Ambika grabbed a loose piece of paper and dipped her quill—really, it was just a plain white feather plucked from a cucco, and belonged to the library; Ambika's quills were all of a much finer quality—into the small inkwell sitting beside her.
"Of course, this is only a rough sketch of what wheelbarrows look like, and I'm not bothering to let the ink dry properly, so you'll have to use some of that imagination of yours." At this, Messina perked up. She always enjoyed playing games with her dolls and friends that made use of her imagination, but got so few chanced to use it anymore.
Ambika wished some of her creative inclination had extended itself to working on analyzing poetry, but no one was perfect, she supposed. "Here," she said again, pointing to the sloppy, messy picture of the wheelbarrow. "Now look at the poem again."
Messina did as she was told, but succeeded only in chewing her lip. "I still don't see anything."
Ambika propped her chin up in her hands and went back to her own studying. After just a moment, she gathered her books and inkwell, then moved to an area with better lighting to start writing her analysis of the work.
Three Gerudo women stood before the gathered tribe, motionless on a stage. The hangman's noose hung around each of their necks, and their hands were bound in front of them. The woman in the middle was sobbing pitifully, but the other two stood their ground even as the other tribes members shouted threats and leered at them.
This continued for a moment as Ganondorf made his way, cloak billowing behind him in the wind, to the stage. The din immediately morphed to cheering and whistling, just as it had during Ganon's welcoming feast.
The Gerudo King raised his large hand, and his people quieted down. "These women have committed treasons against your King." The Gerudo sneered hatefully, their eyes alight with animosity towards these women. "They opposed me when I returned, claiming I am not fit to rule. This behavior will not be tolerated!" Ganon announced, his hand gripping the lever that would drop the women's footing out from under them. Gerudo cheered again, then quieted. "If I am to once again take control of Hyrule and bring order to this kingdom, I must have the full loyalty of my people. Anyone found to be consorting with the Hero of Time-" Ganon's stomach turned as this name passed his lips. "-Will be jailed, beaten, and then hanged. These women are the first of the traitors; pray to the Goddesses they are the last."
Ganon's wrist twitched and the holes beneath the women opened. The sobbing woman's neck snapped, but the other two suffocated, their feet kicking as they died. The cheering was at its loudest.
