DISCLAIMER: Wow. I even need to put one up here? Come on, kids. You oughta know this by now. ;) I in no way am affiliated with anything to do with Zelda or its affiliates. Now stop yer whinin' and enjoy the story.

A lot of people seem to be emailing me saying they liked the story. O0 Uh. Thanks? I guess that's all I can say. And I do appreciate it. It's nice to write normal things and stories for class, but is somewhere I can kinda let loose. ;)

As to beta reading… Yes, I will. But you've gotta keep reminding me, because I'm stupid and forget like that. So go ahead and keep bothering me with emails.

And as to the questions? No, Sheik is not Zelda. I already clarified that. Furthermore, I have taken (ahem) artistic liberties on some parts. But I wanted to know why the characters did the things they did. And this is what came out.

And yes, there was a period of about a week or so between the second and third chapters. Durr.

Sheik had never been a religious guy. But now? Yeah, he'd be willing to give it a try.

"Din, please… goddesses," he cursed, straining at the bonds that held him.

"Your gods won't hear you now," Gandondorf said, a satisfied smirk on his face. Sheik curled his hand in and then flicked his two fingers together, trying to get his gloveblade to pop up. But it wouldn't. He half-expected Ganon not to notice. He did.

"I took the liberty of removing your weapons myself," he said. "Now, tell me. Where've you been the last seven years? Giving me no end of trouble. I heard you disposed of an entire company of my guards in Hyrule Field, and shot down a few of my messengers along Hylia." He took Sheik's chin in one hand, a belittling gesture. "That wasn't very nice," he said.

"Fuck you," Sheik spat.

"So there's venom left still!" Ganon exclaimed with a laugh. "Glad to see it. Makes it more interesting." Sheik took this brief interlude to look over his own body. The top part of his blue outfit was gone, the bottom wasn't. Well, at least there was that small dignity. There were four brown spots on his chest, looking as if they lanced outward: those were where the arrows had hit. They'd been healed magically, but the scars remained, added to multiple lash marks, scrapes, dagger slits and other assorted wounds. Sheik wasn't the cleanest guy around. And dirty work tended to yield dirty results. He got stabbed a lot, too, but those left less of a mark on the outside and more on the inside.

"…I wanted to see you face to face after all these years. How've you been? Still massacring the populace by the hundreds?" Sheik said, a hint of malice in his tone. He'd been tortured before, he'd been interrogated before. He could take it. He knew how this sort of thing worked: make them angry enough and they'd beat you until you went unconscious. That was the best thing to hope for; then perhaps you could wake before they returned and set yourself free.

Sheik hoped so.

It didn't have the right effect, though. The dark king seemed proud, even happy to reply. "As a matter of fact, I have. There are quite a few torture chambers in the castle—I had them installed after I took out that idiot of a king. Of course, when I heard you of all people would be arriving, I had my own personal one cleaned out."

"Cleaned out?" He didn't want to hear the answer. But his tongue spoke before his mind could work.

"The last victim made something of a mess," came the reply. Sheik tried the bonds with no expectancies, and received no award. The leather was firm and tight and was already cutting into his skin. It hurt.

"There's something I must admit I've always been curious about," the king said, turning back towards the Sheikah again. "What's underneath your mask?"

No, no, no! Sheik struggled with renewed strength. He had to get free, he had to, he had to, he had to! No-one had ever before seen what was underneath the mask, not even Impa…

The hand neared slowly. As if he was enjoying this mental struggle. Well, he would. He was a sadist, a madman. As it got too close the boy turned his head the opposite way, his last line of defense. Nevertheless two hands came around and encircled his head. In a moment the white cloth was down around his chin. Why had that been left on, anyways, and not his shirt? Oh, right. The wounds.

There was a small noise. Approval? Disdain? A laugh? He couldn't be sure.

"Prettier than I'd expected," the king replied. "Almost a woman's face." There was a rustle of more movement and he came back with a sort of curved dagger, the blade glinting evilly in the dim light. "But not a woman's body."

"Din, Farore, Nayru… help me," Sheik said huskily. He knew Ganon, and knew he'd take no chances. He'd leave him dead most likely.

The blade pressed just below his collarbone. "First things first," the king said. "Where's the Hero? What's his name? Link?" he sneered. "After my little shadow incarnation failed to get rid of him I was a bit angry, I'll say. But then he disappeared. No doubt you had a hand in that?"

Actually, Sheik had gone around previously cloaking the temples to make them impenetrable by Ganon. Or at least, unscryable. He was strong in offensive magics, but where defense and illusion were concerned Sheik was the superior. All he could think about right now, though, was Link. Was he still in the Fire Temple? Had he rescued the gorons yet? If the bastard had gotten himself killed, then all this was useless.

Rather than make a snarky comeback, Sheik was silent.

The blade came down. It carved a stroke up, twisted painfully, then down, then across again. Sheik yelled the entire time. It hurt like hell.

By the end of it he was trying desperately to curl into a ball. What could he do? What could he do to avoid the pain… but he couldn't betray Link. He couldn't. Link was his friend.

"I'll ask again," Ganon said. "Where's Link? It'll only get harder, you know."

"No," Sheik moved his mouth to say, but found he couldn't. The implication was apparent, though. His voice was just too far gone, raw from yelling.

Again the dagger came down. Another three strokes joined the first in a different spot, this time towards the top of his chest. Slowly, slowly they made themselves visible, and weren't quite deep enough to delve below the skin, but enough so that he was bleeding from them heavily. Sheik was sobbing, begging—his head was on fire, his torso was on fire. His entire body was going into horrid convulsions. If he didn't say something soon he'd die, of that much he was certain.

"Please don't," Sheik said, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't."

"Can't what?" The king said, bending over him. "Can't, or won't?"

"…won't," He whispered. He wouldn't be cowed by the dark king. Not like so many others, not like so many helpless ones who had gone to their graves, their spirits nothing more than a silent whisper delving into the earth to become nothing. Formed from nothing, turning to nothing. Like the darkness in this room, death would be complete and absolute. He even welcomed it to rid himself of the pain.

"You want to die," Ganondorf said. A statement, not a question. "You know that I will do things to you that no mortal has ever suffered, and that when I am done I will kill you."

There was a barely realizable nod from the Sheikah.

"Your kind are all the same," he said with a smirk, and without mercy carved the last three strokes. Through a pain-dullened mind Sheik suddenly knew what was carved onto his chest, though it was bleeding heavily: A triforce. A triforce of blood. What the hell was Ganon doing?

"This will be the future," he said. "I will bathe Hyrule in the blood of the innocents. You won't be the first, nor the last. You could tell me what you know and I'll heal you, let you live. Maybe I'll keep you as my… personal… assistant." Here the personal had a twist that Sheik didn't like. "You and I are old enemies, boy. Let there be no more blood between us."

"No," Sheik said for the forth time.

Slowly the king seemed to accept this. He moved to the side of the room and pulled a lever: in a second the flat table had lowered. It was, Sheik noticed, much larger than he was. Almost like an enormous dining room table. The Gerudo leaned over him, and—Sheik thought—was going to slit his throat, for sure.

Instead he was kissed. By Din and all the goddesses, Ganon trapped his mouth in a harsh, suffocating kiss. He couldn't breathe through his mouth, and his eyes opened, arms straining at their straps and his legs quivering at their spread-eagle position. When he knew his enemies were going to kill him, he felt somehow almost secure. But this, this was something different. It was out of character. He had no control over himself now.

An exploring hand moved over his chest to rest on the left side. It began to stroke almost tentatively up and down, in a pattern the Sheikah found strangely… comforting. His body did. His mind was in a panic mode, his heart beating wildly in his chest. A second hand came up and pressed itself, cool and inviting, to the side of his opposite hip; Dear goddesses above. Please, no. Not that. Anything but that. He found there was a stone in the bottom of his stomach, and he couldn't do anything but look on in mute horror. Until Ganon released his lips for a moment, neither of his hands moving.

"I can make your body and your mind enemies," he said gently.

"No," The Sheikah said. "Not that. Please, not…" the kiss continued. He struggled, thrashed, moved violently, but nothing seemed to work. He was pinned underneath a weight greater than his own. Sheik was no wuss; he had had more weapons and muscle training than some of the greatest masters of Hyrule. But this was a weight he couldn't throw.

The straps helped, obviously.

Sheik was a virgin. He'd never been touched in this kind of way before. There was something so wrong, so vile about it, and yet on the surface it felt good as a hand brushed lower, mouth moving to kiss his chest and then down just above his navel, biting and teasing. The Sheikah begged out loud and thrashed even more wildly, his pride no longer an issue. Right as the hand brushed his waistband he somehow, somehow managed to get one ankle free of the bonds that held it. He had no shoes, he realized, but kicked free the other, trying to arch his body enough to roll off the table.

"Don't bother," Ganon hissed with a particularly serpentine smile, and extended an arm. The bonds lashed out and retied themselves around his ankles without hesitation, and he was dragged back onto the table from where he'd slipped.

"You love Link, don't you?" he asked the young man.

Sheik shook his head violently, denying it.

"I seem to think otherwise," he replied nonchalantly. The hand on his waist moved lower to claim his member, and the Sheikah couldn't do more than shut his eyes tightly. He'd heard of people going through things and then thinking it must've been a dream: he had the same sort of feeling now. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be—

Ganon began to stroke his victim's member, still kissing him tenderly on the navel. There was nothing he could do, he thought; his body was betraying him, was tensing up and sending waves of pleasure throughout him. The king noticed and moved his mouth to the top of Sheik's member, running his tongue teasingly over the top of it and then covering it entirely, still stroking it with the other hand, the base of which slipped discreetly up the space between his thighs. Sheik's voice was raw and torn from so much abuse, but he yelled now. This was a different kind of torture. Especially since…

"Link won't want to touch you in this way when I'm done," he whispered.

"Shut… up," Sheik growled, barely audible. "Shut the fuck up, you demon."

"Demon? That's a new one." He grinned, pleased, and held the Sheikah's gaze as he returned his mouth to his member. Sheik couldn't turn away. He just couldn't. Those eyes…

He was still bleeding. More than he should. The blood loss was making him faint, dizzy, as if the world was tilting.

Ganondorf set one knee on the top of the table. When had he discarded with his pants? Gods, no. Goddesses, why? Sheik sent out silent prayers as he found his legs being lifted to the man's shoulders, the table cold against his spine. He couldn't move his arms at all. A finger, covered in some kind of substance, brushed against his opening suddenly. "NO!" he yelled, his last burst of strength. Well, at least his mouth still functioned.

"All you have to do is tell me," the dark one whispered, as two fingers began to probe about his entrance. It was disgusting, it was horrible, it felt awful—no, it felt good. Did it? He didn't know anymore. Pain and pleasure were combining. He was weak from blood loss. If the wounds weren't staunched, he'd die. Good—dying would prove a nice break from this hell. The fingers moved and twisted as if with a practiced life of their own. Maybe Ganon did have practice raping people. Hell, it wouldn't be surprising.

The other hand continued to stroke his member until he came in Ganon's hand, shockwaves licking at his body as he tensed against them. It felt like betrayal. Now he understood what the gerudo had meant. His head and member throbbed simultaneously—he'd felt an orgasm before, but not like this. This was different. Unsacred.

Suddenly he felt a presence at his opening. His legs were spread far apart, and he was helpless to stop it. Without a pause Ganon moved in to kiss him, and at the same time thrust into him. It hurt. No, more than hurting. It was agony, though a kind of bittersweet one. It felt good in a disconcerting way. He was dizzier and dizzier with each second, until he felt himself sink into unconsciousness.

Link.

Ganon pulled out and thrust back in a second time, pausing for a moment inside the Sheikah before moving even deeper inside him. With a strangled cry that sounded as if it were forced, Sheik came again, and the Gerudo laughed out loud as he dragged each breath, each movement out of the figure beneath him. Finally even Ganon had had enough, and finished with the blonde, then climbed gracefully off the table. Sheik was not a pleasant sight. He was bleeding, raw in the eyes and in the mouth…

He'd die without help.

Slowly Ganon dressed, walked over to a dresser on the other side of the room, pulled out bandages and gauze. Sex made him weak and lazy, too lazy to call for someone who could use healing magics. But he would, eventually.

After all, this had only been the first day.