Chapter Nine

Ganondorf

He woke with a start when he heard someone enter into his room. If they were interrupting him at such a late hour, it had better have been something good. "Apologies, blood of my blood," the female voice said. Ganondorf glanced over at her, trying to figure out which one of his advisors had felt the need to intrude. Niset, he decided after a long moment, the one he had sent to deal with the brat in the dungeon's little friends. "Princess Zelda's former tutor is dead," Niset continued, leaning against the door frame.

"And the others?" Ganondorf pressed. It was all well and good that they had one less Resistance member to deal with, but Auru had certainly been the less threatening of the bunch. If he did not know better, he would have sworn the woman in the room with him was covered in blood.

"Still living," Niset sighed, and the King felt a surge of anger rush through his veins. He had entrusted the job to her, his most skilled fighter, assuming she would take her best fighters alongside her. They should have annihilated the pitiful Resistance. He threw his blanket to thes ide and stood. To her credit, Niset did not so much as flinch. "A necessary loss, blood of my blood," she continued. Ganondorf crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow before motioning for her to continue, eager to see how she would attempt to talk her way out of the situation. "They will be lulled into a false sense of security," Niset continued. "They had anticipated a more difficult fight, and Auru's death will throw them off their game. They should arrive in Ordon Village any day now, and we will burn them to the ground."

Ganondorf nodded thoughtfully, having serious doubts that that had been the original plan. Still, there was still a chance they could crush the Resistance before they gained more people, before they became a serious threat. "We will speak more of this after daybreak," he waved a hand, dismissing her, and watched as she left his presence. Shaking his head, he laced up a shirt and boots before leaving his bedchambers. He doubted sleep would return to him that night, and so he was going to be productive.

He took a candle from a wall and carried it down the cold, stone stairs leading to the dungeon. Amunet had been brilliant in getting the Resistance leader's name from the Hero, but the time for being kind to the insolent Hero had long passed. There were still more players in the game, he was certain of it, and they could not afford to let their threats go unknown for much longer. Each day he reigned, his enemies became stronger, came one day closer to ending his reign.

He raised the candle to the lock on the cell, inserted the key, and stepped inside, pleased to see the Hero sound asleep, vulnerable. Amunet had unchained the boy from the wall and re-shackled him to the floor. The boy was curled up on his side, his back to the wall. The King had to admire the boy's instincts, of at least keeping his face turned toward the cell door. Ganondorf set the candle down and kicked the boy in the chest, smirking when he woke, crying out in pain and gasping for air. The boy looked up at him, and the King smirked when he thought he saw a glimmer of fear. "Your friends are dead, Hero," he smirked and kicked him again, watching as the boy writhed in pain.

"You're lying," the boy said through gritted teeth, though there was doubt in his tone. Ganondorf smirked and forced the boy into a sitting position, making sure his arms twisted in ways they were not intended to.

"I am a lot of things, Hero," Ganondorf spoke, venom in his tone. "But a liar is not one." He picked up the candle again and held it over the boy's bare torso. "But there are more, are there not?" He saw a slight change in the boy's normally guarded expression, and smirked. "Where are they?" The boy said nothing, but hissed in pain when the hot wax from the candle dripped onto his chest. "You really do need to learn to be more cooperative." "Come now," he shook his head. "We'll find out one way or another. If you tell us, we'll make it quick for them." The boy hissed again when another drop of wax hit him.

"Fuck. You," the boy glared. Ganondorf rolled his eyes and tilted the boy's chin up, forcing the boy to look him in the eye. He knew it would be difficult to break the boy down. He had been chosen by the Goddess of Courage, after all. But all men broke eventually.

"One more insolent comment," he said, keeping his voice low. "And I can assure you you will wish I would have killed you in the battlefield." The boy tried to squirm away from him. Ganondorf sighed and wrapped his hands around the boy's throat, smirking as the boy gasped for air, tried to claw at his hands. The Demon King smirked and lifted the boy by his throat, laughing when he heard a loud pop come from his shoulder, as the boy's face turned white. "You know how to make this stop," the man said, the smirk never leaving his lips. He let the boy suffer a moment. He was not going to kill him, but he could certainly make the brat believe he would. It was not until the boy's face started to turn from deathly pale to purple that he let him fall to the ground.

The Hero lay on his side, gasping for air. Ganondorf leaned against the cell wall, watching. The boy choked something out, but the King did not quite hear it. "I'm sorry?" he knelt beside the boy. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Telma," the boy choked out, shutting his eyes tightly.

The King smirked and forced the boy to look at him once more. "You did well to tell me this, boy." The boy tried to shut his eyes again, but cried out when the Demon Lord back-handed him. "I am a reasonable man," he continued. "I reward those who give me valuable information." The boy continued glaring, but said nothing in response. "Keep this up, and you will be rewarded." He threw the boy back to the ground and left, locking the cell door behind him. The boy would break, and when he did, Ganondorf would be able to use him to his advantage. He would not have to destroy the boy's friends. He could make the boy do that himself.