A/N: Some slight warnings on this one for torture.

Hyrule Castle

Aalrian stood at attention next to the throne. Her back muscles ached from standing so long. She wished the diminutive, bespectacled man cowering at her master's feet would hurry up already.

As it was, Ganondorf himself looked positively bored. He even yawned unabashedly. The sight caused the small minister delivering his report to speak even faster. Everyone knew the king abhorred these reports and updates. He was a war lord, not a minister, and had little interest in the day-to-day running of the kingdom he'd conquered. Still, it had to be done.

"The drought has reached Ordon province, my lord, and—"

Ganondorf cut him off. "Yes, yes. You've told me once already."

The Hylian minister squeaked, lowering his eyes to his papers and moving onto the next item. He was one of the few that the king hadn't had executed. Aalrian was sure he didn't want to be the next.

"The Zora of the Southern province, my lord, they have rebuffed your ambassador once again. They refuse to pay tribute to your lordship."

Ganondorf grunted. "Hmph. Then it's high time we do what needs to be done. Send troops down south."

The little man blinked. "To war, sire? But we have not the funds—"

"Silence! You're so concerned with trivial things, Wexley. The Gerudo do not need funds to start a war. The Gerudo fight to conquer, not for riches."

"But the other tribes, my lord...they have not been paid in some time."

Ganondorf growled in answer. Wexley wisely silenced himself.

Although captain Aalrian paid little attention to the man's ramblings, she couldn't help the gnawing worry that had taken up residence in her gut. It seemed to make itself known at these particular moments, when her concentration was focused inward and there was nothing going on around her to steal her attention.

She looked down at the minister, busy shuffling his papers back into order and making a hasty retreat. His too-large glasses slipped off his nose as he bowed low, and he scurried to retrieve them.

Of all the former ministers, Wexley seemed like the least likely to be in charge of governing Hyrule. But he had assured them that his mathematical and analytical skills were unparalleled. To boot, he was extremely organized about his affairs, if not his person.

As the door closed behind Wexley's small frame, Ganondorf rubbed his temples tiredly. "I can't stand it," he muttered.

Aalrian blurted, "Wexley?"

He didn't seem to notice. "Hearing about all of the plights of the people." Ganondorf scoffed, mimicking Wexley's squeaky voice, "There's a drought in the south, sire. The crops will not sustain us through the winter, sire." Ganondorf grunted in disgust. "Pathetic. I conquered this land for my people, not to hear our enemies complain."

Aalrian shifted behind him. Like all the others, she had been bewitched by this man's vision of a better future for the Gerudo tribe. They were warriors—why not take the plentiful land just beyond their borders for themselves? They shouldn't have to wallow in the desert in exile. Ganondorf had ignited the fires of revenge in his people's hearts, and it had won them the war against Hyrule.

Once the dust had settled, the Gerudo had convinced themselves that coexistence was possible with their own people in power and the Hylians paying them the homage they so richly deserved. For a while, it had seemed to work.

But Ganondorf had imposed Gerudo laws upon the Hylians, and they had revolted. In retaliation, Ganondorf had begun executing at will. It effectively put an end to thoughts of peace or coexistence.

The Gerudo leader had proceeded to rule Hyrule with an iron fist, reaping the benefits of power and ignoring the responsibilities of a king little by little. Hylian soldiers and officials he'd coerced into service ran the country for him while he imposed his will on the resistant Hylian people.

Ganondorf's situation was worsened by his obsessions: the missing Hylian Princess who still eluded him and the strange forest kid the king had convinced himself was a major threat. Ganondorf's days were spent on the hunt for his most hated enemies. His nights were wasted with nightmares.

She glanced sideways at him as he brooded. His health had returned thanks to Alatar, but the sickness of his mind remained, hovering in the eyes.

Aalrian, like her sisters, had blinded herself to the realities of their tyrannical rule. But now it became harder to ignore what was really happening.

Ganondorf was slowly killing all of them. The Hylians starved in the burned-out remains of their villages, plundered by the brutish desert tribes Ganondorf had sent to enforce his laws. The Gerudo wasted within the walls of their castle, comfortable but ignorant.

Aalrian's grip on her spear tightened. This could not be allowed to continue. If nothing changed soon, demise would come for them all—Hylians and Gerudo alike.

With the darkness covering the land, the sun had vanished. Now there was hardly any food. Their desert cousins took what they wanted, growing increasingly independent of Gerudo control. Monsters grew in numbers, becoming more dangerous, even to Gerudo.

"Aalrian," Ganondorf cut in sharply.

"Yes, sire?"

"What is the report on Imara's campaign? That is something I am interested in."

Aalrian shifted and stepped down in front of him to deliver her report. "She was successful, my lord. She has the lad and one other as her prisoner. They expect to have returned by tomorrow nightfall."

"Hmm. That will have to do." He paused, hands idly stroking the sleek metal arm of the throne. He turned to her. "Fetch Alatar for me. I must speak with him."

The captain nodded, bowing with one closed fist over her heart in Gerudo style. As she was departing, Ganondorf tossed one last inquiry at her.

"Where is the Sheikah?"

She halted, conveying Imara's latest message. "With Imara. He will accompany her party."

The king was silent for so long she thought he hadn't heard her.

She opened her mouth to repeat herself when he said, "I see. You are dismissed."

Aalrian followed quickly in Wexley's footsteps, sensing that the king wanted his solitude. The doors closed over the formidable figure of the warrior king, head bent in contemplation as he sat upon the throne he had conquered in the name of his people.

~oOo~

When he awoke inside a prison cell, he wasn't altogether surprised.

Dark sat up and gingerly felt the back of his head where a bruise was forming. The slippery little sorcerer had clocked him good the moment they'd warped. Dismayed to find Sienna was nowhere to be seen, he stood and felt his way around in the semi-darkness.

A circular room constructed of stone. A tower, then, most likely. There was one small window that an average-sized person would have trouble peering out of. Dark crossed to it and used his height to full advantage.

The drab silhouette of Hyrule Castle could be seen in the distance, atop its hill, overlooking her defeated kingdom. Dark estimated the distance, judging that he must be several miles north of Castle Town. Even further from Kakariko.

It meant nothing if he couldn't escape from this tower. A rattle behind him announced the arrival of his jailer.

Dark shielded his eyes from the sudden light from the fireball the sorcerer held in his palm.

"Ah, you're awake," the mage said, as if Dark were a mere guest in his home. "Welcome to my humble dwelling."

Dark snorted through his nose. "What exactly is this place?"

The sorcerer sighed. "Nothing but ruins, now. It's a shame, really." The man raised his hand to better illuminate the space, the arm of his robe sliding back to reveal a skinny arm. "This tower was built by a long-dead tribe to house their treasures. But many years ago it was used as the home of another great sorcerer."

Dark didn't reply. He had the feeling this mage liked to hear himself talk.

He inhaled, puffing his thin chest. He looked like a frail old man, but Dark wasn't fooled.

"Have you ever heard of the Wind Sorcerer?" his jailer asked. "Vaati? This used to be his tower. It is too bad it has fallen into such ruin. All of his work—vanished."

"Shame," Dark muttered, uncaring.

The mage narrowed his eyes. "I am called Alatar." Dark crossed his arms, disinterested. Alatar's eyes flashed. "And you are the first son of the soldier, the late Naron and his wife, Shaiya."

Dark jerked around. "How do you know that?"

Alatar chuckled like gasping fish. "I know a great deal about you and your bothersome sibling. I have many gifts."

"Is that why you abducted me? And Sienna, where is she?"

"She has been moved to Hyrule Castle. I have no use for her," Alatar sniffed. "You will prove much more useful."

"For what?"

Alatar's falcon eyes flicked over Dark's face. "Let's call it an experiment I have long awaited to attempt. One you are a perfect test subject for."

Before Dark could make a snarky reply, Alatar lowered his hand, dimming the light.

"I shall return," he informed Dark. "When we are ready to begin."

The mage exited the cell, locking the heavy door behind him. Dark turned back to face the window, his mind hard at work on an escape plan.

~oOo~

Kakariko Village, Impa's house

Link woke in the familiar comfort of Impa's house with he worst headache he'd ever experienced.

"Link!" Navi's voice trilled in his ear. "You're awake!"

Link winced. "Yes, I am. Volume, Navi."

"Sorry. How do you feel?"

"Sore. What happened?"

Navi's mouth opened, but Sheik's low voice answered the question. "You were knocked unconscious by the shadow creature in the well."

Link's gaze swung to Sheik. "I'm glad to see you're okay."

Sheik nodded. "Kakariko is safe once again. The villagers have returned—they could not stay in Goron City for long. Your friend Malon is unharmed."

Link swung out of bed, stretching his limbs to ease the aches and pains. "What was that thing?"

"An evil spirit trapped long ago in the well by Impa. I believe it managed to break free due to Ganondorf's influence weakening Impa's protection on the village."

"It's not still out there, is it?" Link's eyes darted to the windows.

"No. We are safe for now."

Link heaved a sigh. "Where is everyone else?" he asked.

Though he couldn't see most of Sheik's face, his eyebrows pinched together as if in pain. "Link, the villagers are all safe…but your friends Dark and Sienna were abducted. I believe they were taken to Hyrule Castle."

"What?!" Link reached for his weapon instinctively but grabbed only air. He spotted it next to the bed and bolted for it. "I have to go help them!"

Sheik blocked his path. "I understand, Link, but there are more urgent matters at hand."

Link paused, the Master Sword hanging at his side. "What else happened while I was out?" he asked with dread.

"Impa has gone to the Shadow Temple to defeat the evil spirit, but I fear she will be in danger." Sheik met his eyes squarely. "Impa is one of the six Sages—just like Rauru, Saria and Darunia. You must aid her."

"But, Link!" Navi chimed in, "You still need to bring the blue fire to Zora's Domain and unfreeze King Zora!"

When Link repeated as much for Sheik's benefit, he began to pace, which was an unusual display of emotion for him.

"In truth, I came here to tell you the important information I had discovered," he told Link. "Soon after I arrived, however, the village was attacked." He halted his pacing.

His shoulders slumped. "What do I do, Sheik? I want to help Impa, and save my friends, but the Zora need my help as well. I can't be in that many places at once!"

Sheik crossed his arms, tapping his knuckles against his bicep. "Trying to rescue your friends from Ganondorf's stronghold now would be foolhardy. And the curse on Zora's Domain is growing stronger—it has sapped the water from Hyrule's rivers and lakes, endangering everyone."

Sheik's brows pinched again. "Rescue King Zora, then head for Lake Hylia. The entrance to the Water Temple can be found there. Once you break the curse, you can return here to help Impa. In the meantime, I will do my best to assist her."

Link hesitated, weighing the options. "Are you certain?"

Sheik let his arms fall, then shifted on his feet, wavering. Then he put a hand on Link's shoulder. "Yes, Impa is strong, and the Zora need you. As does the rest of Hyrule. And I promise you, once you have awakened all the Sages, we will rescue your friends."

Link smiled at his friend. "Thanks, Sheik."

The Sheikah blinked, then stepped away with another nod. "You should leave at once."

Link agreed. "It will take some time to get to Lake Hylia and back, even on Epona."

Sheik asked Link to wait, then briefly left the room. When he returned, he held a small golden harp in his hands.

"The temples are connected by ancient magic," Sheik explained. "I can teach you a melody that will warp you back here to Kakariko, near the entrance of the Shadow Temple. That will save you some time."

Sheik raised the harp, plucking the string expertly. A mournful melody poured out, embracing Link in cold arms. He shivered involuntarily as Sheik continued to play, the song strangely soothing as a lullaby, as if dragging him into a sleep from which he would never wake.

"The Nocturne of Shadow," Sheik explained, lowering the instrument. "If you play it on the Ocarina of Time, it will take you to Impa and the temple."

Link shook himself free from the nocturne's echoes.

"I'll leave as soon as I'm able," he said.

Sheik stowed the harp. "Then until we meet again," he replied, taking a step back from Link.

Prepared this time, Link shielded his eyes at the flash of light that enveloped Sheik. When he opened his eyes once more, he was gone.

~oOo~

Dark's captor wasn't very imaginative when it came to breaking his spirit. It had been a week, he estimated, of isolation in the tower room. He was given just enough food and water to keep him alive.

He wavered between sleeping and wakefulness, keeping track of time through the solitary window. When Dark slept, he was often stirred awake by an uneasy feeling, his adrenaline flooding his system.

Every time this happened, though, the room was as empty as always.

Aside from feeling tired and hungry, Dark did everything he could think of to keep his mind sharp.

So when Alatar visited him next, he didn't experience the terror he was sure the mage wanted. Sure enough, he frowned in disappointment when he saw Dark, standing tall instead of slumped, defeated.

"Hmmph," was all the sorcerer said.

He glanced at Dark's window, then with a swipe of his palm, made it vanish, replacing it with stone. He considered his prisoner, then snapped his fingers as if Dark was a dog he wanted to summon.

Metal shackles materialized around Dark's wrists, ankles and neck, pulled by an invisible force towards Alatar. Fighting every step of the way, Dark danced like a demented marionette to his captor's side.

"You think this will work any better?" Dark asked, trying to sound bored.

Alatar's beetle eyes gleamed. He moved his left hand in a short gesture. The manacles blazed bright orange, burning his skin until he collapsed to his knees and screamed.

Alatar ended the spell, bending down to inspect the raw, red blisters on Dark's wrists. He drew a small bottle of red potion from his robes and handed it to him. With shaking hands Dark took it, tearing away the cork with his teeth.

The burns healed the instant the potion touched his tongue.

"Understand?" the mage asked in his hoarse whisper of a voice. "Come."

Yanked along by the manacles, Dark was dragged from his prison cell to the stairwell. Alatar led him down, past the ground floor and underground.

As the air became damp and earthen, the passageway narrowed until Dark had to stoop to fit through. Why did mages prefer such small spaces?

In the complete darkness, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Dim, blue light appeared after a blink. The temperature dropped a few degrees. Blue fire.

Dark and Alatar emerged in a room even smaller than his tower room. The ceiling was low enough he couldn't straighten up. In its centre was a large rock, smooth and inky as obsidian. Gathered around its base was a ring of the magical fire, dousing the room in cool, eerie light.

"What the hell?" Dark muttered.

Alatar walked to his work table, ignoring Dark. The manacles activated again, dragging their struggling prisoner to the stone. Pulled onto his back over the rock, Dark shifted when the freezing surface touched his skin.

He shivered involuntarily, feeling the restraints, colder now, tighten around him.

Alatar appeared at his side, a pale vulture. Dark tried to wrench away when he raised his skeletal hands but was held still. The mage slit the front of Dark's shirt, ripping it free. The cold was even worse against his bare back.

From yet another unseen pocket of his clothes, Alatar produced a knife—black as the rock and viciously sharp. Faster than Dark thought possible of the old sorcerer, he scraped the blade criss-cross over Dark's chest, above his heart.

Dark glanced down after the sting of pain passed. "Is that it?"

Unamused, his captor wiped the knife on his fingers. With the few drops of blood he'd collected, Alatar traced a symbol Dark couldn't see above his head on the rock's face.

With his ceremony complete, Alatar stowed the knife and exited the room, closing the wooden door behind him.

"Now what?" Dark growled.

The blue fire burned on, flickering silently. Dark tested the manacles. They wouldn't budge. The cold was beginning to make his breath appear in the air, a haze of white.

A shadow shivered on the wall. He couldn't turn his head all the way to see what it was.

The silence made his teeth clench. Every breath was damp and cold in his lungs.

He might have lapsed into a fitful sleep from the chill; he wasn't sure. But when the whispering started, he startled as if he'd been fast asleep.

Just out of earshot, the many voices grew closer but stayed out of reach. With soft hisses, whoever they belonged to moved closer. At his right, his eyes caught the movement, and this time he knew what it was.

The shadow creature—still just a black mass of smoke—hovered close. It had no eyes; but he knew it watched him.

Its voice was the loudest, a scratchy, indistinct whisper. A formless arm detached from the body, stretching towards him.

His limbs were so cold they wouldn't move when he commanded them. Fear hit him like a splash of ice water.

The shadow reached for the shallow wounds on his chest. Dark thrashed so violently the manacles creaked, leaving red welts behind as they scraped away skin.

The shadow smothered him. It swallowed his screams, pulsing in its hunger for more. It clawed at the mark over his heart, eager to eat its way inside. He was drowning; when he inhaled there was no air.

His blood flooded with heat as his magic activated itself to save his life. His relief was stamped out by panic as for the second time he felt that electric, sizzling force awaken alongside it.

Orange lightning sparked in his hands, striking without restraint and without mercy. It filled the small room, destroying everything but the black rock. The mage's work table was reduced to ash. The door cracked into splinters. The earthen walls crumbled.

The strange magic rebounded inside the room, seeking its next target, until Dark's magic was completely depleted.

His straining limbs relaxed, and he fell back against the rock, unable to move. The shadow was still there, coiled inside Dark's chest like an inky snake. The magic had completely skipped over it.

Dark didn't even have the energy to muster a disappointed groan.

"It would seem I was right," Alatar's creepy tones came from the doorway.

He moved to Dark's side, eyes alight with excitement. It was a frightening look. The mage pulled out his knife again, ready to start.

The shadows reared up, caressing the blade with their smoky fingers. Dark grunted when the blade cut deeper, widening the 'x' cut.

"Now that your magic is spent, I can begin," Alatar mused.

Dark fought off a wave of horror. "Begin?" he croaked. "Begin what?"

Seeming to enjoy explaining himself, Alatar said, "When I was young, I received a vision from the gods. My vision told me that one day those of us who embrace the darkness would reign over Hyrule, all thanks to the help of one man."

As he spoke, he continued to slice into Dark methodically and slowly. Each pass skewered a little deeper, roughening the edges of the wound. Dark tensed and gasped each time, the pain sapping his strength.

"Yet I had another vision of this man brought to his knees by another man. A soldier." Alatar paused to flick excess blood off the blade. "I learned the soldier's name and instructed my master where to find him."

The words stuttered in Dark's raw throat, but the mage translated for him.

"Yes. The soldier's name was Naron; your father. Once I heard of your survival, my lord began having dreams of his demise. He would not achieve his goals while you lived."

Dark's eyes were tipping back in his head. Dizziness made him feel foggy.

"I live to serve my master," Alatar wheezed, making a final pass with the knife. With each cut, the shadow had been burrowing deeper, spreading like venom in his veins. "Imara revealed to me that you can wield Shadow magic. And perhaps something more..."

The sorcerer's eyes flicked to the ruined work table. "I knew then I could use you to my advantage."

It was so cold Dark couldn't feel anything but the pain of the knife. His chest burned with fire. Whatever the mage was doing, he had to stop it. But he had no strength left.

"When you awaken," Alatar promised. "We will begin."

Dark let his eyes close, and the cold and blackness engulfed him.