Some Distant Shore
A Zelda and Ganondorf one-shot written for Twili-Imp to help her get over her writer's block. Written to "Penelope's Song" by Loreena McKennitt. Takes place after Ocarina of Time.
I see him in my dreams at night when I am asleep in my bed in Hyrule Castle. After all these years, after all that has been said and done between us, he still haunts my slumber. It is pleasant though, and I would not have it any other way. It is the only true link that I have to a past that never happened, the only proof that destiny is a callous and cruel mistress.
I fly across an expanse of water the likes of which I have never seen nor could ever imagine. Its waves roll and ripple like a blanket of sapphires beneath me and crash upon a beach. And he stands there waiting for me.
I alight on the shore like a magpie, and he grins like a fox, copper eyes gleaming like a crow's. He is happy to see me. The smile is as genuine as it can be, but I read the sadness underneath like a deep current pulling at my heart. We turn our heads to the east. An ocean of golden sand unfurls before me like a Gerudo carpet. I know that we are in his home where he grew up before he became the Dark King of Hyrule, before he became the lord of a band of thieves.
"Is this is what is on the other side of the Gerudo Desert?" I ask, a wind flying recklessly into my face and blowing my hair back.
"Yes," he answers. I watch him while he draws in a deep breath, savoring the tang of salt in the air.
"I never knew," I whisper.
"There are many things that Hylians do not know," replies Ganondorf.
"I suppose you are right." I am relieved to find that he is still honestly spoken.
Tentatively, he links his fingers through mine, and we begin to make our journey out into the desert. Sand flies around my feet as I tread through it. He has made an art of walking on top of it. He seems to be able to step across the loose footing as if it were solid earth. You wouldn't think he was capable of it because of his great size. Then again, you wouldn't think he was capable of many of the things that he does.
He sees me floundering around like a child caught in deep snow and scoops me without hesitation. I laugh at the audacity of it. "I could have walked you know."
"I know, but you were slowing us down. It is easier this way." His crosses the hot surface with smooth, even strides.
"I'm surprised you're still able to carry me. I'm not exactly a young woman anymore." My tone is wistful.
"You're not so heavy." He throws me over his shoulder to prove the point. I giggle like I haven't since I was a girl, since I'd become queen.
"Funny, I don't remember it happening like this."
He drops me back into his arms. "It certainly would have made things more interesting," he purrs. My heart lifts at the discreet passion in his voice. It is good to know he is still capable of such emotions. I am secretly afraid that over time this place will rob him of the fire that he possesses, the fire that drew me to him in the first place.
He sets me down then as we approach a pavilion waiting for us. The top is peaked in the middle and draped with purple silk. A low table sits underneath it surrounded by pillows. I take my seat across from him and sip black tea from a porcelain bowl. He offers me cinnamon and ginger. I decline, staring out across the impossible distance of desert before us.
"How is this possible? I thought the Sacred Realm was a white void."
"It is whatever I wish it to be."
"And this is what you want?" I raise a skeptical eyebrow. I would have expected the lush green fields of Hyrule to roll out in front of me.
"It is what I love," he answers cryptically. "And that is why you are here."
I stare at him for a moment, drinking in his words. He was rarely a man of open affection. Most of what we felt went unspoken.
"You still want me after all this time? After I've. . . " I wave a hand in front of my face. "Aged as I have." I could admit that I was no longer a young lady. Grey was starting to thread my hair, and there were lines around my eyes where there had been none before.
He smirks. "If there is one thing this place has taught me, it is that time is irrelevant. Thus, age is irrelevant."
"You can't be serious?" I feign modesty when inside my pride is soaking up the compliment.
"I am many things, Zelda." My heart aches at the use of my name. "But I am not a liar."
I open my mouth to protest. He raises his hand in supplication.
"Not to you at least. I have never lied to you. I couldn't if I wanted to. There is that tricky thing of prophecy that you have."
"Yes, that tricky, horrible thing. It seems to have done me more harm than good through the course of my life." I take a drink of the tea.
"That is the way of talents."
I brood for a moment, steeping in his words. Something weighs on my mind. It always does when I come there. I manage to pluck up the courage to confront him about it. Standing up, I walk around the table to him and sit down in front of him.
"Are you angry at me for I what did to you?"
"No," he says. There is no need to say what it is that I'm referring to. "I understand."
"Good," I breathe, turn my face away from him to stare at the sun glimmering on the sand.
His rough fingertips grab my chin and swivel my head towards him again. I close my eyes against the rush of memories. He presses the thin line of his lips to mine. I open my mouth to him, wrapping one arm around his neck. We fall backwards onto the piles of pillows.
"See," he whispers as he rises above me, "you are still young in the all ways that count."
"And you are still charming in all the deceitful ways." I tangle my fingers in his red hair and draw his face down to mine. His hands begin weaving through the laces of my bodice. I feel the silk of the pillows and the grains of sand pressing against the bare skin of my back. I lose myself in the new and yet terribly familiar sensations, and we make love in the false desert.
He runs his fingers through my hair, reforming it into its braid. I do not bother to fix my attire. It's a dream after all, and regardless of what I do I'll wake up in my nightgown.
"Your sleep is almost over," he says.
"I know."
"You will wake soon."
"I know," I murmur mournfully. Already I can feel wakefulness tugging at my eyelids and body, beckoning me to join in another day that is only half of my existence.
"I will wait for you." His words start to fade into wisps of air as I stir from my sleep.
To my surprise, it is still night. My husband, the King, is asleep soundlessly in the bed beside me. He is a good man, and I love him in my own way as best I can. But he is not enough for Zelda. He is enough for the Queen. But he is not enough for the reckless young lady who dared to dress as a boy in order to hide herself from the man she felt was wrongfully ruling her country. She is still lurking in my heart.
I slip out of bed, careful not to wake him, and pad out our quarters to the children's across the hall. A sliver of light cast by Din's fire burning in the cusp of my hand illuminates their features. I smile. The youngest has once again crawled into bed with her older sister. I step into the room to examine them more closely. They are beautiful and precious to me in a way I never thought possible, but sometimes I find myself wishing their hair was red instead of blonde and brown and their eyes copper instead of blue.
A cold yawning emptiness enters my bones as I stare at them. They are the proof that my life here is real, and that the one I wish to live can never be. My only comfort in this night is the knowledge that he waits for me still on some distant shore.