Link never really understood just how abnormally strong his father was. Sure, Ganondorf was stronger than anyone else in the village, but that was to be expected: the Gerudo was his father and his father would always be the best. So Link didn't really get why everyone flinched whenever he father picked him up roughly or when he was annoyed and disciplined him with a light cuff to the back of the head he barely even felt. Ganondorf had carried and cared for him when he was a baby, and babies were way more fragile than he was now, at the cusp of puberty. And it wasn't like Link didn't know that the Gerudo was strong. He'd seen him flip wagons upright by himself with easy, carry five times as the other men in the village with a tenth of the effort, and, once he'd even watched his father clear away a fallen full-grown tree from one of the village paths. But that was how it'd always been and always would be as far as Link could see. It was like the blueness of the sky or the softness of the grass or the golden piece of heaven branded on his hand; it was something that simply was and would never change.

Besides, he knew he father wouldn't ever hurt him without reason. Sure, he'd never come away from a single sword training session not patterned with bruises and splattered with his own blood, but it was only because he was getting stronger. Stronger, and better, and used to pain, and forcing his father to try harder and longer before Link would give up. And with his magic lessons finally making progress, Link could heal a number of his own wounds without help. Which meant that their practice sessions could be more vicious, more ruthless, and with fancier and dirtier moves. Cracked ribs taught him to always watch for devastatingly quick kicks, twisted and broken wrists showed him that there was indeed a correct way to fall while holding a weapon, and concussions that rattled his teeth were brilliant teachers in the art of ducking the flat of a blade. Agony was far more than a mere feeling, and was just as much his tutor as his father.

Maybe he was messed up in the head, but the thought of finally pushing his father to his limits excited Link. He would never surpass him – no blade could stand up to the strange sword Ganondorf had, and more and more of their funds went to replacing the swords that had snapped or blunted – but one day he was sure he'd finally see the Gerudo just as exhausted after their practice, sweating and finally enjoying the first challenge he'd had in ages.

Because if Link knew one thing, he knew that Ganondorf loved to fight. Ganondorf enjoyed very few things in life, and battling was one of those rare things. Link understood why, too. Even as one's body was pushed to the absolute limit, even as one's heart threatened to give out and everything was burning into nothing, one never felt more alive in that moment. Drunk on adrenaline and high from the fumes that were all you had left, mortality could never be understood better than then and there. Because all it took was one slip up, one laps in control, and he'd die without ever having even winded his rival, his enem-

Link shook his head and sighed as he cut that line of thought off then and there. If he let that continue he'd only think disturbed thoughts that made him shiver from a poisonous fire that had never truly extinguished.

Ganondorf was his father and cared for him like one should. Nothing else beyond that mattered. Even if Link had started growing moody and arguments were more prone between the them, even when the words traded between them were turned into blades and flung at the other's face, they'd make up eventually. They were absolutely incompatible, were destined to always irritated the other with their mere presence, and living together was trial to be tackled day-by-day, with no guarantee they'd succeed. And yet, for some reason Ganondorf would always protect him from monsters, always go after him when he ran away in tears. How could Link do anything except try his hardest as well?

Suddenly restless, Link gracefully slipped down the tree he'd often found refuge in. Sturdy and dizzyingly tall, the distance from the lowest branch to the ground was a good eight feet. And yet Link, not even five foot yet, found it easy to scramble up and down the trunk that others saw as barren of any handhold. A slight bump here, a shallow line where the trunk dipped in ever so slightly; even without all that, the friction of the rough bark against his hand would've been enough.

Link made his way over to the smoldering hornet's nest and stomped out the last of the flames that had consumed it. The adults always kept talking about getting rid of it, and yet kept putting it off for one reason or another. It was too high up in the tree, it was impossible to get close to it without getting stung, it was a terrible idea to throw stones at it to try and knock it down like a few other children, filled with dumb bluster, found out. Link didn't really care about the stupid hornets since they didn't make proper honey and he was smart enough to leave them alone. But then one of the children younger than him, a small slip of a girl who was barely six, wandered too close and got stung something terrible. Be it a bad reaction or just the sheer quantity of poison, either option ended with her nearly dying.

Link was bad at healing anything besides himself, but he was still able to help save her life. The local healer hadn't wanted to do anything besides offer the most basic herbs. A few others agreed, not wanting to waste more valuable medicine on a girl who was clearly "touched in the head" from the way she stumbled around unsteadily and still struggled to string three words together.

Something like that really was terrible. Although he could see the reasoning behind it, those cold-hearted adults were treating another Hylian like a horse with a broken leg. That wasn't a fair comparison at all. She could recover just fine while the horse would almost surely suffer for life if it didn't die slowly from the creeping death of infection. Even if she wasn't smart enough for the adults to be satisfied, even if she was "touched in the head" and cursed with dullness and drooling words, she was still a Hylian. Even if she had to be led around for the rest of her life on a leash, she still had a chance to live right then, and abandoning her was so cold Link turned away and inwards for a little more warmth.

It wasn't as if he was being a blind optimist either. If he didn't think she would've been able to survive, he would've killed her himself if her parents would've let him. But that wasn't abandoning her, he reasoned. There was no point the dragging it out because they selfishly wanted her to live; he'd seen too many animals die a slow, whimpering death just because a child didn't want their pet to 'leave them'. Those condemned to die should at least be allowed die as painlessly as possible; not dragged through life until the skin left their bones. But those who could still live should at least be given a chance.

Absently, Link contemplated what would happen if those cruel people just died like the little girl almost did. He wasn't plotting to kill them or anything, but not a single part of him would morn their deaths. The news would briefly sadden him at the loss and then the thought of 'death' would slide off him and he'd move on- not knowing what it was to mourn. He knew that was strange and unnatural to feel about people knew. He knew their names, knew their lives pretty well, and some of them gave him lots of extra food even with his father was home- as if he hadn't been taught how to feed himself. Which was really dumb, because there was plenty of food stored away, and if he really did run out it wasn't like he wouldn't ask them for food then. Did they really think he was so dumb he couldn't even do that much?

But he was already more competent than those adults, and Link knew this when he stomped the smothering ashes of the hornets nets. They'd made such a big deal about the entire thing. It was too high, too dangerous, too much effort, and that laziness nearly got someone killed. Yet all it took was one arrow, a tiny fire spell licking at the very tip, and the problem was taken care of. Sure, none of the other adults besides his father had magic, but they were adults! They had other things like strength and height and that worldly wisdom the really old ones kept talking about to make up for it. Was it really that hard to be bothered to take action?

Link decided then and there that he wouldn't sit by and do nothing about such simple problems anymore.