Warning: Violence and gore. And language. Like, Hylian cusses, I guess.

Very intense and short chapter. I tried to make it very visual, though in a way, I'm sorry for the actual image this presents. I just realized what day it is today. See the Rants in my profile for 9/11, seen from Mtl, Canada.

Also, you're going to hate the first sentence of this chapter.

But enjoy how it all culminates despite it all.

Hylian Kings

By CM

Twelfth Chapter: Death Match

Nabooru was dead.

Koume and Kotake had known of her treachery just minutes after she'd spoken to the four free travellers in the field, and had ensured she would not live to gloat about escaping Ganon's wrath.

Ganondorf, furious, realized his hold on the world was weakening. His most trustworthy servant had been a traitor, his future wife, until then a prisoner of seven years, was still missing, and the people had not provided him with riches or crops as he'd hoped.

His lifelong efforts had been in vain.

Fury raced through his veins, matched only by that of his worst enemy, the Princess Zelda, though this, he did not know. Yet.

His own blade participated in the carnage. Already, he'd murdered violently and bloodily children and poor men. He'd pierced women's pregnant wombs without care. He'd left them to rot or burn, and the smell of tortured flesh and burning, melting fat reached his nostrils, filling him with only a mild satisfaction, and amplifying his need to spill blood, to avenge his ruined life, to retake all he'd lost, to prove to himself that he was still powerful, that he could still take lives and make of them what he pleased.

Ganondorf was hunger for death. He was thirst for blood. He was lust for power.

He was out and killing.

A chill.

Kotake, using her ice, froze the citizen's feet, forcing them to the ground, immobilizing them only enough so that they watched helplessly as Ganondorf's blade rose mercilessly above their heads, chests, stomachs, and just enough that they feel his wrath through their pain.

Searing flames.

Koume, on her part, was spreading fire from high above, throwing intense balls of flames at the houses, consuming everything. Then, when the people tried to escape the brazier, she rained scalding ashes upon them, marking their skin with burns.

None could escape.

He stood, in the middle of the street, an ominous dark figure contrasting with the vivid flames, as though he absorbed all light and returned none. He stood still, blood covering him from head to foot, his large blade dripping with the dark red liquid. It formed fat drops on the edge, dripping in slow motion from the tip.

Like a demon from the darkest of realms, he waited. Waited. He was hungry for more blood, and every running figure was a temptation. Still, he waited.

Waited, gazing around him at the brazier impassively. Waited.

He knew.

And then, from a clearer place in the large circle of destruction, she appeared. She was covered by a smoke and coal stained bed sheet. It protected her from the intense heat, and hooded over her head. He could not see her face. But he knew.

She had come. He had provoked her. And she had come.

He could feel the intense hatred radiating from her, the way heat radiated from the flaming square. To his right, a building collapsed, and a surge of scorching air blew over them. She paused, the protective sheet billowing under the assault, and he could feel, in his raging, pulsing blood, that she had found the burning breath hard to take. He felt a faint wavelet of fear ripple from her, but it was quickly replaced by more anger.

She stood, a long distance from him, immobile in the ever changing décor.

He smirked, and the sweat caused by the intense fire dribbled off his chin, evaporating in mid-air. The heat was so intense. He felt it feeding his hunger.

He raised both his arms, in a mock greeting, and his smirk widened. Across the blazing square, he called, over the roar of the fire, "You have come, Princess! Come closer and let me make you my Queen!"

She did not answer, merely stood and, he felt it, glared at him with raging fury.

It fed him.

"Understand me, Princess! There is nothing you can do! Nothing! You are helpless in this world! Come to me, and let me make you my Queen!"

She did not answer still. His heart raced in a cruel glee.

"It is too late to avenge this land! Realize it and come! You have nothing to hold on to! Come! Be my Dead Queen! The King of Evil's Queen! Come!" He felt a loud laugh rumbling in his chest. "Come!"

Behind him, another building collapsed, and the surge nearly blew her off her feet, all the way across the square. But she held her ground, radiating more and more anger by the second.

"You could have had all this! The power, my Queen! The strength, the riches! The power!"

"I loathe you," she spoke this low and hoarse, but it somehow carried over to his oversensitive ears. He found that her voice had changed in the time she had been away.

"What is loath, Dead Queen, if not food for me? Come! Do you not understand? There is no place for you!" He narrowed his eyes. "Do you wish for this destruction to rage across Hyrule?"

He sensed her hesitation. And took it. He lunged forward, blade ready to plunge deep into her small form, to pierce and rip her apart.

She did not even move, and in the fraction of second it took for him to lunge at her, in a fantastic leap, he finally saw her eyes.

Or rather, his eyes.

'What are you doing here?'

The boy threw the sheet aside.

'Well, you are a coward, aren't you? Go fight those villains, you fool.'

Ganondorf's eyes widened.

'You were unable to aid him. He died for you, would you dare throw his sacrifice away?'

He changed his trajectory violently, avoiding the boy's blade by a narrow breath. He fell back, on his feet, only slightly unbalanced. And he saw the dirty blonde hair, the vivid blue eyes, the furious frown, the youthful but mature face.

And he knew what his mistake had been.

'Run, boy, run. Never return, he'd not forgive you. Run. He died because of you.'

"Remember me?" The boy asked, voice low and adult, filled with rage. Ganondorf wondered how he could have mistaken that voice for that of the princess.

"How could I not?" Ganondorf spat. He glared at the boy. "You should have been wiser and followed my advice, boy."

'Run, boy, run.'

"I did," Link spat back, lunging at Ganondorf. Their blades clashed, pushing them back forcefully again. "I did. Seven…" he swung, "…damned…" he swung again, "…years!" He moved forward, forcing Ganondorf back with his anger. "For seven godforsaken years, I followed your word, thinking you had meant well! Thinking you had meant to protect me! BUT YOU KILLED HIM."

'Never return, he'd not forgive you.'

Now, Link had turned into a raging killing machine, hardly thinking, only swinging, ducking, avoiding, not accounting for energy. He fed off seven years of guilt and self-hatred, seven years he could finally blame on the right person.

"You killed him!" His voice screamed above that of the fire, tearing at his throat. Sweat ran down his face, and dirt and soot matted his hair. He still swung, anger filling him so completely that nothing mattered anymore.

Then, Ganondorf got tired of avoiding the young man's blows, and began to give out some of his own.

Link fell to the burning pavement, breathless, blood of Ganondorf's sword flicking into his face, trailing thickly down his cheek, like an insult.

He pushed himself back onto his feet, only to jump to avoid Ganondorf's blade.

Their swordfight was a spectacle of deadly wonder. In the circle of fire, breathing in the scorching air, dancing on the broken and soiled pavement, twirling in a lightshow of orange lights reflecting off their metallic weapons, and the muscles bulging under the pulsing, sweaty skin, the clash of their breaths and the sound of their grunts added to the match of hatred versus evil. Had there even been a chance for either of them to escape alive? It seemed, in the middle of the hellfire, that even the gods did not know.

'Run.'

And then, Link was touched.

The blood Ganondorf ripped from the young man's chest flew away in a wide semi-circle, droplets flicking onto the pavement. Link reached up to his torso, feeling the blood seeping through his clothes. He didn't even feel the pain, only a mild burn. Then, the sweat and dirt touched his wound, and he nearly buckled over.

Ganondorf almost struck him for good. It was instinct that made Link move, and it was only once safe that the young man realized he'd actually moved.

Now, a searing pain flared through him, radiating down his arms and legs, hampering his movements.

Ganondorf was breathing heavily, taking the pause to catch up on air. He was older than the boy, and though their speed was matched, his search for power was no concourse for the young man's fury and determination.

"God bloody son-of-a-bastard," Ganondorf spat, moving towards Link, decided to end the game, "you should have followed my word. You should have gone and stayed away. For your stupidity, you'll have to lose your life."

"I'm not done," Link ground out, and he leaped out of Ganondorf's blade's range. "I'm not done making you pay."

Against all odds, Link moved. Quick. He darted from side to side, screaming against the pain, and raised his blade sideways, ready to destroy the Evil King.

Ganondorf raised his hand.

It was chopped off.

An unearthly scream tore out of the King's throat, and he dropped his sword. His bloody stump was brought near his face, and he clutched it with unimaginable torment. He screamed, and screamed, silencing only to grit his teeth with rage as the bloody tip of Link's blade came to rest under his chin.

Impassive, Link nevertheless glared at the Evil King's scowling, pained face.

"Have it out, then," Ganondorf gritted, voice hoarse. "Kill me!"

Link shook his head slowly.

"I have a better plan," he said, and leaned close, very close, so he was practically nose to nose with Ganondorf. He glared into the Evil King's furious eyes, and said, in a low voice, so low no one else, had there been someone around, could have possibly heard… "Run, Ganondorf, run." Sweat dripped from both their faces. "…Never return." Blood poured from their wounds onto themselves and the sweltering pavement, sizzling. "…He'd never forgive you. Run." Link's eyes were sharp and heated. "…He died because of… you"

Ganondorf, seeing Link's face rise away, spat on the young man's boots. Link didn't even blink.

"I could have killed you, but I spared you," the King said.

"Right back at you," Link said, pulling his blade away and getting ready to sheathe it out of sight.

Ganondorf furiously reached for his blade with his valid hand.

It would be his last movement. Link's sword sunk into the man's stomach, pulling out and ripping all in its wake. Shocked, Ganondorf looked up at Link, angry eyes wide. Link looked down blankly, in the blistering heat.

"I forgot to tell you," Link said, the burning winds violently playing with his blood matted hair, and smoke in the background making Ganondorf squint, "The only one who can marry Zelda is the royal consort or, in other words, me. That ought to finish you, Evil King."

In a questionable show of mercy, he slit Ganondorf's throat.

Link, changed and silent, was joined by Zelda on his way back to the damaged inn. He silently returned the bloody blade to a weeping Anju and a solemn Kafei.

Zelda was also crying. She had to help Link up the stairs. He collapsed in the steps before they even were halfway. He did not wake for three days, and rumours said he wept constantly in his sleep, and that the only reason he seemed solemn was because Zelda stayed by his side all along to wipe the tears.

As for Koume and Kotake, the twinwitcheswere dead.

Darmani and Mikau hadn't said more. They had returned from the flame consumed houses with grim looks and various minor injuries, and had refused to explain how the witches had come to pass.

As for the fire, only the gods recall how much time it took for it to be appeased. The number of declared deaths was still climbing seven days after the brazier had been put out.

Misery was not rooted out easily. It took many days of patience and careful use of the lands. It took a month of cleaning to take out all the remaining burnt debris.

Forgiveness for Zelda's seven year absence was instant, however.

As for the young man who had ended the Evil King's life, it took a long time to understand he was the same as the adorable boy who used to walk side-by-side with Darunia so long ago.

He was acclaimed as a hero. The Hero of Seven Years became his name, and turned him a supposed descendant of the Legend.

But Link had fallen into a semi-silence, one only Zelda seemed to cure him of, and, slowly, he returned to his former self, if a little more reserved.

He had grown. Darmani had declared it once, and Mikau's silent nod had sealed the word.

Then, in a hurry, a year more passed by.

Review if you want the last part to come up.

Love,

CM