Taming the Tiger

by Morna

Ganondorf Dragmire has been taken as a prisoner of war by the Queen Zelda. Uncertain of what to do with her captive, they strike a bargain that leads to unexpected and surprising results. AU Zelda. GanondorfxZelda

8. Chapter 8

Taming the Tiger Chapter 8

I don't own the Legend of Zelda. As a note of warning, some readers may want to skip the later part of this chapter due to mature subject matter.

"Turn around," she ordered in a stern voice.

Ganondorf did as she commanded, lifting his arms as he did so.

She sighed in frustration, and he saw her run a hand through her hair.

"Might I ask what is it that displeases you, Your Majesty?"

She shot him an angry glance, quickly reading the sarcasm lacing his words. "You know what displeases me, not that you care."

"Of course, I care."

"Oh please," she replied as she walked a slow circle around him, "spare me your games today. If you truly cared you wouldn't insist on coming to this disaster you're forcing me to plan."

"I would hardly call it a disaster." He dropped his arms to his sides. "It has kept the king away from you, has it not?"

"Yes," she answered begrudgingly, "but that is only a temporary fix."

He shrugged. "That is all we can do. We can only buy you more time. I hate to say this, but I feel as though in the end war will be inevitable."

She wearily shook her head in displeasure at the thought. "I know. I know. Believe me, you do not need to remind me of it, but why? Why must you come?"

"In order to advise you," he said simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She scoffed in disgust. "I think I have learned how to handle him by now."

He raised an eyebrow in question. "Forgive me for speaking so boldly, but if you did then we would not be here now."

Her scowl deepened. "I will not forgive you because you are not sorry. At least, not in that sense."

"You wound me."

"I only wish." Her hand flew out and snatched several strands of hair from his head.

"Dammit," he hissed as his fingers came up to massage his scalp. "Why did you do that?"

"For the same reason I'm going to do this." She held up a small, sharp knife in her right hand and sliced him across the forearm before he could stop her.

He bit the inside of his cheek against the pain and watched in mild fascination as she caught the drops of blood welling from the injury in a tiny glass vial.

"And what would that reason be exactly?" he growled.

"If you want to come you'll need a disguise and a simple cloaking spell won't do. I'm going to need to concoct something more potent. That means I'm going to need the proper ingredients. More than likely it will comprise of an extremely horrible tasting potion you'll have to ingest."

He grimaced in distaste. "I look forward to it."

"You should," she said examining the small glass vial, "you brought it on yourself."

"What is it exactly you had in mind for disguising me as?"

She shrugged, a careless shifting of her shoulders that made her golden hair ripple. "I'm not sure yet. I'm considering several possibilities."

"They would be?"

"None of your business," she said coldly, eyes running up and down the frame of his body like he was a rack of meat on display at a butcher's stall.

He found it oddly amusing and insulting that she was able to stare at him like that without even the slightest flicker of passion in her eyes. He had always known that his face was not considered handsome by Hylian standards, but he was used to evoking a different reaction from women when it came to his body. He was tall, broad shouldered, and heavily muscled. All of these traits he had found to be rather persuasive when it came to getting someone of the female gender to warm his bed for the night. The women of his own tribe had openly admired his body, and they were not easily impressed. It hurt his ego to see a Hylian queen regard him with so little sexual interest.

"Well then," he replied smugly, "I will trust that you know the best answer to the problem."

She turned away and headed for the small door leading out. "I will figure something out." She sighed heavily.

Several more days passed. Zelda brought him meals when she could and left him enough food when she could not. He read a great deal of books on many things. It seemed that the previous queen had had quite a voracious appetite when it came to books. He even found several written in his tongue. Sometimes he would find scraps of papers tucked between the pages with slanted, elegant handwriting on them. He found one piece in particular fascinating. It was a list of dates marking important events in young Zelda's life. It listed the day she spoke her first word, took her first step, crawled for the first time. The most surprising part was that it reinforced the idea that the seemingly impervious Queen had at one point in her life been an infant. It was almost impossible for him to imagine her as a baby being held in her mother's arms.

One day while they were dining on a meal she had brought up from the kitchens he worked up the nerve to ask her. "What was your mother like?"

He watched her as her hand stilled and her face went smooth as white marble. "Why do you ask?" she said guardedly.

"I was simply curious."

She gave him a suspicious glance before buying herself some time by taking a swallow of wine. "She was my mother."

"And?"

"And that is all you need to know." She went back to eating.

"She was very devoted to you," he said offhandedly as he brought a bite of meatpie to his mouth and began to chew.

Her eyes glanced up from her drink. "How would you know that?"

He shrugged. "Just something I found." He produced the small note from a nearby shelf where he had hidden it.

She snatched it from his fingers and read over it several times before looking back up at him. "Where did you find this?" she asked in a hard voice.

"In a book."

"Which book?"

"I can't remember. As you can see, your mother had many. I've been looking through them." He gestured around to shelves lined with tomes and volumes.

Her eyes narrowed at him as she tucked the bit of paper away into one of her many hidden pockets.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "No reason, I simply wanted to know."

"Really?" Her tone of voice said she sincerely doubted his answer.

"Yes," he said slowly, "I thought we had moved past this. Honestly, how could I use your dead mother against you?"

"Perhaps you're trying to worm your way into my good graces, gain my sympathy, use some weakness of mine against me." He could tell from the way she was squirming that he had already done several of those things. She had brought him back from the dead and yet she still treated him as an enemy. It made no sense, and even less so, since she seemed to be a highly logical creature.

"It sounds as if you have put a great deal of thought into this. I could do any of those things, but what would they gain me? Nothing. I have no kingdom or power, Zelda. I am wholly at your mercy." A bitter taste flooded his mouth as he spoke those last words. He did not like to admit it, but it was true. Without her protection, he was nothing. He was as good as dead without her. If only he had his Triforce of Power back, that would certainly tip the scales in his favor. He shook his head against the thought. There was no point in thinking about it.

"So you are," she said thoughtfully. "My mother was . . . " she hesitated and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as she thought on the matter, "my mother was very different from me. She was a very volatile woman. I believe that is why she and my father did not get along. She was very impulsive but kind. I remember that. She always had some little surprise for me. She used to call me her little sparrow." A smile graced Zelda's face as she lost herself in the memory. Then it melted like morning frost. "That is enough reminiscing. Time for your tonic." She produced the usual glass bottle full of the black potion.

He made a face but took it without complaint. It had become part of their routine. Even when Zelda could not get food to him, she always left him two or three bottles of the stuff for him to drink on his own. He unstoppered the bottle, put it to his lips, threw his head back, and drank. As always, it was accompanied by an odd taste and the usual numbness that pervaded his chest and limbs. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that this simple tonic was more than what the Queen claimed it to be. He would ask her about it sometime, but not today. He was on treading on thin ice as it was. "She sounds like an interesting woman. It is a pity I never got the opportunity to meet her."

Zelda nodded in agreement. "Yes, it is a loss for anyone. Now as you know the ball is approaching."

"Really? So soon, it seems that time has slipped past me once again. It is a tricky thing, time."

"If you still intend to attend, we must lay out some ground rules." Her face showed that she would make no compromise on them.

"Alright, what did you have in mind?"

"It is simply really. I want you to be discreet and stay unnoticed. You are not to attract attention to yourself in anyway. For the sake of things, I have made it a masquerade ball."

"Ah," he said sadly, "and here I was hoping to be the center of attention. It has been a long time since I have danced and sang and drank like a fish."

She narrowed her eyes at him and pinched her pretty face up into a tight knot. "Do not joke about this. You know better than that. If you were to die a second time, I do not think I would be able to bring you back. Most likely because I will have lost my own."

He pressed his hand to chest in mock injury. "You know there is nothing that I like less than the thought of thought of you in pain or your precious blood being spilled." Indeed, many times he had fantasized on how to dethrone her, but oddly, he had never thought of how to dispose of her. He had always vaguely known he would kill her in battle, but he had never planned it out. Now he found that he truly did not like the thought of her in distress or pain unless it was of an entirely different nature. He turned away from the thought. That was dangerous ground. He was slowly coming to realize how long it had been since he had been with a woman. It would not do to think of her in that light when it seemed as if she harbored no such sentiments herself.

"I'm sure," she said sourly. "Anyways, I have cobbled together a spell that I think might do the trick. I will return the night before the ball to perform it. Do you think you are up to?"

"I am up for anything your wicked little mind might come up with, milady." He allowed a smile to curl his lips.

"Good," she answered as she got to her feet, taking the basket with her. She said nothing else before she left through the small hidden door.

She came three nights later, coming in the dead of night through the secret entrance. He awoke instantly at the sound of a door shutting, feeling his whole body tense. He went into a crouch amidst his piles of pillows and blankets and readied himself for whatever might come around the bookshelves. He knew it was probably only Zelda, but those years of training among his sisters had not been for nothing.

When he first saw her it was by the fitful shadows cast by the single candle she carried. She wore a dark cloak that covered her from head to toe with a deep hood thrown over her face. She looked like a dark wraith that had come to claim his soul for his some sin of his past, which one he wasn't quite sure. There were many. She said nothing to him but stooped down and placed a basket that clinked softly on the floor.

When she threw back the cowl of her cloak, her hair was white blonde in the light, and it seemed as if her eyes flashed from their usual violet to crimson for an instant. Her face itself seemed transformed from before. Her cheekbones were sharper and more exotic, her chin more pointed, and her eyes strangely slanted. He could now clearly see the Sheikah in her. Her mother had been half, so that would make her a quarter. She seemed more than a mere fourth in the darkness of the room. Even the tiny skylight provided no illumination, clouds had rolled in to cover the meager light of the moon.

"Are you ready?" she whispered as she proceeded to set out her supplies. He watched in yearning and fascination as she set out tiny bottles full of dark liquids, a bowl of silver, a mirror, and long, slender wand made of a type of wood that he did not recognize. Last, she pulled out a knife from her sleeve. It was plain but ceremonial at the same time. He could see runes etched into the steel of the blade.

He nodded wordlessly and crawled forward on his knees to get a better look at her.

She looked up at him with wide, owlish eyes. "You must understand something. I have never done a transformation spell this complex. I have changed the color of skin, hair, and eyes before, but this is new to me. There is risk involved in it. How much I cannot say. Do you still agree?"

He picked up the knife and tested its tip with his finger. A small drop of blood welled up. He nodded. "Yes, I trust you."

She smiled bitterly. "Then you are a very brave fool, Ganondorf."

He looked away from the blood on his fingertip to her face again. "Or perhaps I am simply more knowledgeable of your abilities then you are."

She shrugged and took the knife from his grasp, laying it straight in front of her. She took a flask of water from somewhere and poured it into the bowl. She leaned over into it, murmuring words as she did so and a faint light shone from it. Images moved and flashed across the surface. They looked like kaleidoscopic images to Ganondorf, but she seemed to be able to make some sense of them. He watched her lips move silently in a language he did not know. She reached out and grabbed two of the three bottles in front of her. She read their labels carefully in the fitful light and then dumped them into the water. The light intensified for a moment and then it changed to a deep shade of red.

"Come here," she commanded with a crook of her finger.

He leaned forward cautiously. Her fingers took hold of a strand of his long red hair and plucked it out. She then held it to the flame of the candle and let it curl up and burn between her fingertips. The whole time her eyes did not waver from the images the bowl produced. She added another small vial of something and waited with her eyes locked on the bowl in front of her. The images flooded it again. She touched the surface lightly with the tip of one finger, and they abruptly stopped.

"Yes, I think that will do," she murmured to herself. "Hold out your hand."

"You're going to cut me again," he replied in a tired voice.

She nodded. "That is the price you pay for making me do this."

He sighed and held his hand out to her palm up. She took out the dagger and sliced it across his open palm. The blade was so keen he hardly felt anything. The blood seeped up from his hand deep and red. Zelda took the blade and scraped the blood off and into the bowl. It chimed quietly. She nodded again and gestured for him to stand up.

He got to his feet and waited patiently while she stepped carefully around her instruments. The wand was clutched in one slender hand. She walked around him in a slow circle, passing the wand up and down his body speaking softly to herself the entire time.

"What are you doing?" he asked because as boredom stared to set in. His magic had always been flashier than this. It had been big and loud and bold.

"I'm cleansing you," she said.

"And that means what exactly?"

She stopped her chanting and blew out a breath in frustration. "I am removing the remaining stains of your own magic so that mine can take hold. I don't want any interferences." She then went about passing the wand over his right shoulder and then his right arm and leg.

He decided to keep any further comments to himself. She seemed nervous enough as it was. When that was done, she delicately lifted the bowl from the floor and presented it to him. "Drink this," she said as she pushed it into his hands.

He grimaced in disgust. "Goddesses, you can't be serious. I saw you put my own blood into it."

"Do you want to go or not?" she retorted, raising an eyebrow at him.

He growled in agitation. "This is barbaric."

She chuckled. "That is ironic coming from you. Now just drink it."

"Only if you say please," he said haughtily.

"Please," she said through laughter.

"Fine." He reluctantly lifted the bowl to his mouth and let the liquid slide past his lips onto his tongue. It tasted viler than he had imagined. It was spicy and strangely bitter with a tang of metal to it from his own blood. He threw his back and lifted the bowl higher. He drank it down in huge gulps, trying to keep it from touching his tongue. At last, he came to the end of it and handed the dish back to her.

Her face was serious as she set it aside and walked another circle around him, murmuring more strange words that he thought were Sheikah. She picked up the mirror as she started another circuit and moved it up and down his body as she had done with the wand.

He could feel the air growing thick around him. It was like being outside when a storm was brewing. The room was becoming charged with some unseen force. He held out his hand and watched his bronze skin change to a deathly shade of grey. He knew without looking that the color of his hair and eyes were changing as well. Unease began to stir in his stomach. What had he gotten himself into? What if this was nothing more than an elaborate plot to trap him? What if she was turning him into some sort of monstrous servant?

While his thoughts were reeling, he could feel his body began to change and morph into another shape. His shoulders became smaller and his legs shorter. The pain was like that of a sore muscle after too much physical exertion. It ached but it was nothing compared to when he had first awakened from death. His fingers became thinner and shorter, the nails turned long and black. His clothing was hanging off of him in folds. His pants were now far too long and the sleeves of his shirt hung well past his wrists.

He reached up with his foreign fingers and touched his face. The skin felt looser and older. Bags were under his eyes. The last of the tension in the air vanished when Zelda stood in front of him again. She studied him with an air of satisfaction, like an artist admiring her latest painting.

He looked down at his hands again, grey and covered with thick veins. "How long does this last?"

"Forever," she said solemnly.

"What?" Alarm crept into his voice. He couldn't stand the thought of being trapped in this inferior body permanently. He still felt his old strength, but he was hampered by these new stunted limbs.

She laughed, a high ringing note that. "No, it lasts for approximately thirty-six hours if my calculations are right. It would serve you right though if it were permanent."

"Hand me the mirror."

She gave it to him. He held it up to his face and turned his head this way and that. New wrinkles appeared from every angle he looked. His face was the same color of grey as his hands. His eyes were hard and black. His hair was cut close cropped to his head. It was nothing more than a black fringe. "I'm hideous," he said at last.

"Well, there are some things no amount of magic can change," she quipped as she set about putting her magical things away.

He rolled his eyes. "What am I to wear?" He lifted the now much-too-large shirt out in front of himself.

"Don't worry, I will come by tomorrow with your costume."

He slept through fitfully through the rest of the night. The same dream plagued him as it had the night before. The sweet, distant voice returned, but it was fainter than he recalled it ever being. It was no more than a whisper on the wind that swept through the fields of his mind. He pursued it relentlessly and to once again no avail.

He awoke late that day and ate some of the food the Queen had left for him. This time though there was no bottle of the black liquid she usually left for him to take. He was not saddened by this. Perhaps it meant she thought he had recovered enough to do without it now or maybe she thought it would interfere with the spell she had cast. Either way, he was not sorry for its absence. The numbness it created had become more agitating. Throughout the day as he waited for her return, he found it slowly dissipating, and he almost felt normal by the time evening came. He passed the time by reading and thinking on what exactly he would do once he was at the ball. If he could simply get his hands on some sort of poison, he might be able to slip it into the king's drink and solve both of their problems. Or he might be able to use the opportunity to reconnect with some of his faithful followers. He had had several spies within the Hylian court and as far as he knew, they had not been found out yet. The wheels of his mind turned, but ultimately, no plots or schemes came to mind. He would simply have to figure it out as he went along. He had no idea what resources would be available to him. His death had been the best thing to happen to him and the worst. He was no longer being hunted like an animal, but that meant he could not reveal himself to those he originally might have. He could not let it be found out that Zelda had resurrected him. He owed her that much. As cold as she could be towards him and no matter how she vexed him, he had developed a strange loyalty to her.

He watched stars wink into existence above his head and evening descend. The sky was just darkening into velvet black when he heard a door creak open. This time she entered by one of the two main doors on the opposite side of the room. He heard her heels clack on the floor as she maneuvered herself around the books, chairs, and tables.

When she appeared in the narrow aisle between the two shelves where he stood, he could see a bundle of clothing in her arms. It took him a moment to recognize her. She was already in full costume. Her long hair had been dyed the color of the sky at twilight, a deep shade of peaceful blue. Golden armbands encircled her upper arms and golden necklace hung at her throat. Her dress was light and flowing in two different shades of blue and a circular lyre was held underneath her free arm.

"And who are you supposed to be?" he asked.

"You don't recognize me?" She twirled in the starlight, her jewelry tinkling quietly.

He shook his head, unnerved at the loss of his hair.

"I'm Nayru," she answered.

"The goddess?"

"Yes, of course, I found it only fitting since I am the carrier of Wisdom."

He raised his eyebrow at the comment but said nothing in response. "My people are not terribly familiar with the other two goddesses. We primarily worshipped Din."

She nodded in understanding. "Well, I did consider masquerading you as her but that seemed too close to blasphemy for my taste. Besides, I think you would make a hideous woman."

He rolled his eyes and held out his hands for her to deposit the clothes into them. A red robe was dropped into his arms along with a matching hat and veil for his lower face. He unfolded the robes and observed that a symbol of an eye was stitched in purple onto the front that looked dangerously like the Sheikah Eye of Truth.

"What is it that I am going as exactly?"

"A nazgrudt, which is an ancient Sheikah sorcerer and sometimes priest. They served many purposes in the tribe, or so I was told."

He gave an unhappy sigh as he eyed the cap and veil.

"It was the only plausible disguise I could come up with that would allow you to be so covered. I do not want to take even the slightest chance tonight. I want it to be so that not even your own mother would recognize you." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and tilted her head from side to side to check her handiwork again.

"You have no need to worry about that, I doubt my mother would recognize me at all given what you've turned me into, even if she were not dead."

A few awkward heartbeats passed as Ganondorf waited for her to leave.

"What?" she questioned. "You don't expect me to allow you to roam around my castle as you please, do you? No, I will escort you down to the ball through the secret passages and then be on my way."

"Fine," he said coolly, "but would you mind perhaps turning your back at least to give me some privacy while I dress?"

She laughed. "I thought you would revel in the chance to engage in such a voyeuristic activity."

He looked down at his diminished and newly twisted body and felt loathing bubble up. He had never realized how vain he was until then. "Normally, you would be correct and grateful for the opportunity, but given my current state," he gestured to himself, "I do not think the site will be pretty."

Her lids lowered as she tried to contain another chuckle. "Believe me, it was only in your best interest. It is sad but true that ugly people generally tend to be ignored more than attractive people."

"I don't think it was only your charitable nature that inspired you to give me this form."

"Perhaps," she said airily as she turned her back to him so that he could dress.

He grumbled to himself as he pulled his tunic off and undid his breeches. He did not dare look at himself as he undressed so he quickly dragged the red robes over his head and secured the cap and veil. The robes were loose and voluminous as he supposed she intended them to be. The hat was a bit tight and the veil was too thick for his liking, but he could not deny that it did cover him from head to toe. He cleared his throat to signal the Queen that she could look once again.

She spun on her heel and a smile lit up her face. It was cruel and jagged but beautiful in its way. It displayed the mobility of her features and proved that she could indeed manage a smile. It made her seem younger. It made her look her age. Between the impish grin she wore and her attire, she truly looked like a mischievous goddess fallen from a distant star. For a moment, he believed that they were the chosen avatars of the Three like some claimed. The thought caused a twitching deep in his chest like an animal stirring in its sleep. He resisted the urge to glance at the Queen suspiciously. Something was afoot here. He just did not know what yet.

"Come," she said and gestured for him to follow her.

He obeyed, and she led him through the small doorway—he did not have to hunch so much now—and down the narrow flight of steps. From there on, she took a twisting and turning path different from the one that had led him there, though it was hard to tell in the dim light. When at last they exited the tunnels, he found himself in a servant's passageway. Laughter and talking could be heard through the thick stone walls. It seemed as if he was just on the other side of the hall.

"Now," she said seriously, all laughter from her face gone, "go through this door and get swept up into the crowd. Do not introduce yourself to anyone unless specifically asked. If asked give as vague an answer as you can."

"You mean you haven't thought up a backstory for me?" he asked maliciously, enjoying the way her face twisted up in anger.

"No," she replied stiffly, "I did not have time between devising the spell, your disguise, and organizing this hideous thing. I have enough confidence in your wits that you will be able to think something up. Do not disappoint me."

He gave a mocking half-bow. "I would never dream of it."

Her lips quirked into a smirk. "No, you wouldn't because if you did it would mean both our heads. Like I said, be discreet and quiet. I want no trouble from you."

"And if I should have need to speak with you?"

She let out a huff of frustration. "Then find me, but try and be unnoticeable about it. I will be speaking to many different people tonight, so it shouldn't be hard to do that."

He nodded in understanding and watched her make her way down the hall towards the front entrance of the great, long room. He waited a few moments as he gathered his wits about him before opening the door and slipping into the mass of people. He found it wasn't hard at all to go unnoticed. The room was filled to bursting with other guests.

He dodged the dancing couples and jugglers and acrobats. There was even a fire breather spewing flames in one corner of the room. She had truly spared no expense. He took a goblet of wine off of a server's tray and sipped on it lightly as he took in the sights and sounds around him. One drunken noble man bumped into him. He mumbled a quick apology and dashed out of the way. He spent a good deal of the night simply trying to stay out of everyone's way and for the most part went unobserved. No one paid him any heed, and he marveled at his own invisibility. He was used to being noticed and stared at and talked about. This new anonymity was both exhilarating and daunting.

It was not until a few hours had passed in the night that he felt something strange and familiar flowing through his veins. He could not name its source but it seemed right. He felt stronger than he had in months. He felt as if he could turn aside the Queen's hard wrought spell with a mere thought. He felt as if he could shatter the thick stone walls with the force of his will. He paused in his stroll through the hall to lean against a wall to take inventory of himself. He searched inside of himself and found that faint voice that had haunted his dreams for the past few nights. This time it was as loud and brazen as the call of trumpets. It sang and screamed through him. It begged him to take hold of it and ride the currents.

He spotted the Queen, Filepus, and Link standing together idly sipping on their drinks. He had known where to find them. He simply had been able to sense their presence. His eyes narrowed in thought. No, it was not the Queen or the Hero that he sensed. It was their pieces of the Triforce that called out dimly to him. They echoed inside the recesses of his malformed chest. They pierced him to his heart.

His eyes widened in surprise as he stumbled across a revelation. He withdrew his left hand from the folds of his robes and studied the back of it in the shimmering light of chandeliers and candlesticks. He could make out the faint outline of his piece of the Triforce again, something he had not been able to do for some time now.

Goddesses, he cursed in his head, my piece has returned to me. The wheels of his mind spun furiously as things started to fall into place: the numbness in his chest, the dreams, the potion, and the missing dosage. He chuckled deep in his throat. She had restored his piece to him. He had no doubt. The potion had been to mask its presence and without taking it he could feel it again.

He made a fist with his left hand, flexing his rediscovered magic. He could hear a chiming noise tremble in the air around him. Link grew restless and looked about him. Zelda looked up from her cup and immediately found his gaze.

He realized that he could destroy them all then if he wished it so. He could bring the roof tumbling down on their very heads. He could kill the Hero and the Queen in one fell, devastating swoop. He smiled at the thought but then it turned into a grimace. Likely now, if he did that he would kill himself in the process. His power was fresh and untried. His body was too weak to conduct so much magic.

He held the Queen's gaze and tilted his head towards a dark corner. He watched as she politely excused herself and made her way over to the shadowy bit of the room. He waited several heartbeats before making his way there himself.

He found her tapping her foot impatiently against the floor and restlessly manipulating the folds of her dress. Now that he could more fully see the power of her piece, she seemed more ethereal than ever. An aura of gold shone around her like a halo. Gold pulsed from her in waves as his piece agitated hers. She knew he knew.

"What?" she asked hurriedly, downing the rest of her drink for liquid courage.

"You think I wouldn't know?" he whispered darkly, his fury barely contained. How dare she? It was his by right. He had every right to know that his inheritance had been returned to him. The little bitch.

Her eyes fell to the floor. She tossed her hair over one shoulder and looked at him haughtily. "I had hoped this wouldn't happen. How did it?" She cocked her head to the side like a bird.

"You forgot to give me the black potion the other day." He smiled evilly, feeling more like himself.

Her lips curled into a sour frown. "I was afraid that would happen. I have been so caught up in preparing this terrible thing that it slipped my mind."

"So you are fallible?" he quipped.

"Of course, I am. I am mortal," she admitted.

"Then why do you clothe yourself as a goddess?"

"For spite," she answered truthfully, setting her cup in a gloomy alcove.

"Did you also keep this knowledge from me for spite as well?" He tried to keep his voice calm and controlled as he knew he should, but he was so angry. The very thing that he had longed had been hidden from him. He had felt torn at its loss. He had been broken, and all because of this woman.

She paused before speaking, considering him carefully. "I did it because I was afraid of how you would use it. I was afraid you would use it against me. Was I wrong?"

He said nothing but growled in anger and turned away from her. He did not answer her because he could not. Part of him was tempted to lie and say that the thought had not crossed his mind, but Zelda was no fool. He considered telling her that he had thought of using it against her. Instead, he settled for a stubborn silence.

She sighed and turned away. "If that is all you have to say to me, I will return to my guests. Make sure to stay out of the way."

"I should kill you," he threatened, his fingers curling into fists.

She looked over her shoulder at him and raised an arched brow. "Are you so certain that you could?"

"Yes," he bit out, "you have no army to stand behind you this time, and I will not underestimate the boy again."

"You are still making one fatal error," she whispered as a dagger materialized in her hand, "you are underestimating me."

He fought back a laugh deep in his throat. "And what could you do? You are a scared and fragile little girl, barely capable of holding your kingdom together."

Her expression twisted into one of anger. She took a menacing step forward and pointed the tip of the dagger towards his throat. "Do not question my ability to rule. At least, I still have my kingdom. The same cannot be said for you. You are a disposed king with no followers and your own people curse your name for your greed and stupidity. You have no idea what I am capable of."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "And that would be?"

She sucked in a breath and the tip of the dagger gleamed wetly with a strange liquid, quite clearly poison. That unearthly presence that had seemed to enshroud her the night she cast the spell returned again stronger. "I am Sheikah as well as Hylian. You would do well not to forget that."

"A mere fraction," he said cruelly.

"A fraction it may be, but it is enough to kill you, and enough to raise you from the dead." Her eyes darkened into amethysts that glistened like the sharp edge of her blade. Shadows seemed to coalesce in the hollows of her eyes and cheeks until it was like looking at a skull with glittering jewels for eyes.

"Why did you do it?" he asked suddenly, the question piquing his interest.

"What?" she said, taking a step back, returning to her normal self.

"Why did you revive me? Why not leave me dead?"

She raised her chin haughtily as if the question was so obvious it was beneath her to grace it with an answer. "This is not the time or place to talk of that." She turned to go.

He reached out with one twisted, grey hand and clutched at her hand. The white skin of her arm was warm and smooth beneath his. "Tell me," he urged.

Something in her eyes softened and almost became vulnerable. The dagger disappeared into wisps of shadow. "Do not make me say it."

"Later," he said as he let go of her arm. He was still restless for answers, and angry but he would get nothing from her this way. "We still have other things to discuss."

"Such as?" She took three steps away from him.

"What are we going to do about your suitor?" He nodded his head towards the small crowd gathered around the King of Holodrum. Currently, the man was smiling and laughing politely while the others tittered around him. He was adept at charming a crowd. They seemed to hang on his every word.

She shook her head wearily. "I do not know. I thought perhaps you had some sort of plan. I thought there was a reason why you wanted this whole thing."

"I wanted it to observe him some more. Our first meeting was not very informative. You say he has quite the appetite for women?"

She frowned at the thought. "If his behavior towards me is any indication, then yes. It seems he is quite fond of female company."

Ganondorf tilted his head thoughtfully to the side and pondered on the idea for a moment. He could feel something coming to life. He would deal with Zelda later. It did him no good if he disposed of her and then had to face Fillepus. Besides, the little man might just use it as an opportunity to seize Hyrule for his own. "Is he a heavy drinker?" he asked.

The Queen shook her head.

"That poison you conjured on the edge of your dagger just now, what else could you produce from thin air like that?"

She mulled it over for a moment before shrugging. "I'm not sure. I do not believe it is a wide range. Poison, smoke shields, mostly stealth, defensive magic."

He nodded irritably, going over his knowledge of potions in his mind. For once, he was grateful that he had been tutored by those two old mad witches Koume and Kotake. "Give me your wine," he commanded.

She took it from its place in the alcove and handed it to him.

He stared into its depths, studying its contents. He took a deep breath and focused his returned magic to a fine point. This was much different then what his piece of the Triforce had been designed for. It was much more subtle and delicate. It was women's magic. He could feel the molecules of the wine buzzing inside the cup as he manipulated them and reformed them. He broke their bonds and remade them into something more similar to what he had in mind. His teachers had taught him the properties of plants and how many of them could be used to make tonics and potions.

Sweat broke out on his forehead as he concentrated. Zelda stood on in amused silence as he stared into her wine cup. He mumbled a few words of blessing for the Goddess of the Sands to seal it and then handed it back to the Hylian woman.

"What did you do to it?" She asked as she turned the cup in her hand and sniffed it.

He wiped the long sleeve of his robe across his forehead. "I have changed it. Do not drink it. Do you think perhaps you could mix some of that into his wine?"

"Is it poison?" she said suspiciously.

"Would you care if it were?"

"If we kill him tonight, they will know it was us. I care nothing for the man, but I will not have his death placed on my head whether I am responsible for it or not."

"It will not kill him. I simply need you to slip some into his wine, not much. Then dispose of the rest somehow. Can you do this?"

She nodded. "I think so, but what will it do to him? What are you planning?"

"Leave the rest to me. You will see."

"Why should I trust you?"

He smiled behind the veil he wore. "Because, milady, you have few better choices and many far worse."

"This had better work," she grumbled as she moved away from him and back into the crowd.

He watched her work her way through the people towards Filepus's side. Ganondorf drew himself into a corner to get a better angle to observe her from. He gritted his teeth impatiently as she chatted with the others, smiling and laughing at just the right moments. The King of Holodrum looped an arm through hers and murmured something into her ear. She smiled slyly but said nothing back. Her eyes lowered just the way he had taught her. She was using all the small and subtle tricks he had drilled into her. It was amazing to see it in action. The Queen of Hyrule was flirting and doing a good job. She even slipped the Hero a coy smile that turned his face so red Ganondorf could see it from where he was. He sneered in the darkness. It was pathetic to think that he had been defeated by such a green boy who was unmanned by a smile from a beautiful woman.

Several agonizing minutes passed that grew into an hour as he waited for her to make her move. He watched as Filepus drank the last sip of his wine. The Queen graciously offered to get him another glass. He nodded, and she turned to find a waiter to flag down. A few minutes later she returned with a full goblet of wine. He had not been able to see whether or not she had poured some of her own drink into his, but he could only rely on luck at this point. There was no way he could go near her now.

With the first part of his plan executed, he stepped out of the dark and wound his way through the sea of people. He listened carefully to the conversations going on around him. Sometimes he even politely interjected. Most of the conversations proved to be useless for what he had in mind. He was looking for a particular type of person. Most of the young women at the ball were all too formal and proper for what he was seeking. Then he spotted her.

She was young, only seventeen if he had to guess, but her body was that of a full grown woman. He could tell from her perfectly painted smug mouth and the way she hid her face coquettishly behind a fan that she was just what he was looking for. Her hair was a long mass of strawberry blonde spiral curls that were mounded fashionably on top of her head. Her blue eyes were lined with kohl and her cheeks had just the right amount of rouge to set off her fair skin. Her dress was too tight to seem proper, and he had no doubt that she had intended for it to cause a scandal among the other women. The neckline plunged low and her shoulders were bared. The sapphire shade of the fabric was stunning on her. She was everything he needed for his plan: young, beautiful, and most importantly, ambitious. This was the kind of young lady who fed off of the fear and excitement that she bred in others. He knew that to her there was no such thing as bad publicity.

He studied her from a distance for a moment as she chatted with her comrades. How was he to approach her in his currently hideous form? He glanced around the room and down at himself. Was he capable yet of disassembling Zelda's spell and creating his own disguise spell? No, it was better to do it in a more subtle way.

He managed to insert himself into a conversation nearby. It was mostly middle-class merchants who thought far too much of themselves in his opinion. He steered the conversation onto the topic of the King of Holodrum. For the most part, they kept their speech polite and vague in case any of the king's followers happened to be listening in, which Ganondorf was sure they were. He then added his part rather loudly so that the young lady could overhear that the king seemed to have a wandering eye.

"He has rather admired that young woman just behind us," he said as he nodded his head towards her. "She is stunning, is she not? I believe I overheard one of his servants say the king thought he could do no better. Indeed, I personally think she rivals the Queen herself in beauty." This made all of the other men around him rather uncomfortable. They nervously took sips of their wine to keep from replying to it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the girl tittering to one of her friends and eyeing the king across the hall. If his timing was correct, enough time should have passed for his little potion to take effect.

The merchants then abruptly changed the topic to the current price of cinnamon in the Bazaar. The girl sauntered away from her circle of friends and threaded her way through the sea of people towards the king. She was a bold little thing, he would give her that. He followed her at a distance to make sure she did not wander from the desired path. He could see that Filepus's face was flushed and his normally rigid posture was beginning to stoop a little. Zelda was nowhere to be seen at the moment. All the better.

The young lady did a curtsy, doing her best to make sure she bent as low as possible to give the best view of her breasts. They caught the eyes of every man in the room including the king. Ganondorf himself would have been tempted to glance at them had he not seen them his whole life. He had grown up with six sisters who had little in the way of modesty. He found the female body beautiful but not distracting. Then he remembered that wasn't entirely true. He recalled how he had studied Zelda's backside as she had led him up the stairs, and how he had enjoyed the site of her silhouette limned in firelight. He shook his head. There was no time for that now, nor would there probably ever be.

The king eyed her admiringly. Ganondorf could tell the potion was having the desired effect when Filepus's mask slipped for a moment to reveal the blatant lust underneath. He quickly corrected himself and ordered the girl to stand. She did and proceeded to introduce herself. He could not tell what she said, but it was clear that it pleased the king. They talked for a few moment, exchanging pleasantries. The king's hand reached out and glided over the girl's supple white shoulder. Ganondorf smiled to himself. It would not be long now.

She moved in slowly, inching her way over until she was nearly face to face with him. The small man's hand swept up from her shoulder to her neck and then he cupped her cheek. The Gerudo knew he should feel guilty for fooling the girl into believing the king's affections were genuine, but he could not find it within himself. She could do far worse than to bed a king. It had never done any of the women he bedded any good, but Hylian society was different. Despite having a woman as their monarch, they continued to barter and sell women like beasts. Girls were given in marriage at a young age to the man with the most money or who would make the most powerful alliance for their families. His own sisters and aunts had joked at how docile Hylian women were. They were quiet and demure towards their men where as the Gerudos were as bold as any swaggering soldiers. They took who they wanted and thought nothing of it.

The girl feigned a flush of embarrassment at the king's attentions and batted her eyes prettily. It was all a show. She was no virgin that much was clear to Ganondorf. She puckered her lips to hint at a kiss and the king took it. The former King of Thieves had to keep himself from cackling at how well his plan was going. The courtiers around them murmured to themselves but pretended to ignore it. No doubt their own former king had done far worse with the women of his court. When the relatively chaste kiss was completed, the king looped his arm through the girl's and proceeded to escort her from the hall. A little while later, the Queen returned and seemed to inquire where her betrothed had gone. The fawning sycophants babbled as one loud chorus with lies and vague half truths. The king had gone to bed they seemed to be saying. They simply did not say with whom. The Queen however was not as stupid. Ganondorf could tell that she deduced what had occurred quickly enough and left the room in a swirl of skirts.

It was some time before she returned. Her face was flushed with rage and hurt and embarrassment. Her former good cheer was replaced by her customary chilliness, and everyone knew that she had caught her fiancé in a most compromising position. He watched with pride as she dabbed fake tears from her beautiful eyes and excused herself while attempting to choke back a sob. He had taught her well. Who had ever known the Queen was such a wonderful actress?

She locked eyes with him from across the room. He could see that secret smile hiding behind her eyes. He made his way over slowly towards their prior meeting place. She was already there waiting for him in the darkness.

"How are you, Your Majesty?" he said in a concerned voice.

"Distraught," she said in a tone of restrained laughter.

"What could be the cause of your distress?" He held out his hands in front of him.

"I found my beloved with another woman." She moved closer to him, and he could smell a faint waft of her perfume.

"Truly terrible," he murmured soothingly.

"Oh yes, I am quite traumatized. His hand was down the little tart's bodice. Her stays were already unlaced and her skirt was halfway up her thighs." She shook her head in disbelief, blue locks tumbling over her white shoulders.

"Despicable," he whispered as he unconsciously moved a strand of hair out of her face.

"There is no way I can trust him now. How am I to marry a man I cannot trust? The nerve. Goddesses, the nerve." Her lips curled into a smirk as she stared at him. In his current shape, they were nearly eye to eye.

Ganondorf forgot his previous anger and rage as he stared at those rose colored lips. He almost felt the need to comfort her. "How could you? You are not even married yet and he disgraces you like this in front of your entire court."

"I can't," she stated. "There is no way I can agree to a marriage on these grounds. He has violated any sense of honor or propriety between us. If we were a common couple it could be forgiven, but I must be an example to my people. They look to me for guidance, and what would they think if I went through with something like this?"

"Of course."

They exchanged mutually mischievous smiles that burned in the darkness around them. The Triforce of Power chimed deep inside his chest in time with hers. Her eyes widened, and she blinked.

"I never get used to that," she said.

"I have grown accustomed to it; though it is stronger the closer I am to one of you. Now, I have done you a great favor. I expect something in return."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What exactly would that be?"

"Answers," he said simply.

"To what?"

"To why you resurrected me and then kept the knowledge that my Piece was restored from me," his voice sank into a growl.

"I kept it from you because I feared what you might do. That much should be obvious to you. You have already threatened my kingdom, and if you think I will sit back and allow you to take it without a fight you are sorely mistaken."

"I would never dream of such a thing, but you seem to be exaggerating the fight. I could crush you." His hand curled into a fist by his side as he fought the urge to wrap his fingers around her neck.

"You think you could crush me of that I have no doubt, but would you be quite as willing to go through with it as you say you are?" She stepped closer to him within reach of his fingers.

His hand flew out and grabbed the side of her neck. The illusion was failing now. He could see his real hand out in front of him, dark skinned and strong enough to snap bone. His fingers rested on the nape of her neck while his thumb settled at her pulse. He could feel the strong beating of her heart against the pad of his thumb. She wasn't even afraid. "Do not tempt me, and you still have not answered my first question. Why did you resurrect me if you feared what I would do?"

She looked up into his face. He had grown several inches as the spell began to unweave. "Am I to be humiliated twice tonight at your hands?" she said coldly, dark and dangerous things swimming beneath the surface of her eyes.

He swallowed and tightened his grip. He wanted to shake the words out of her. "I'm sure the sooner you say it, the less humiliating it will be to your delicate sensibilities."

"Fine," she threw back her shoulders as if bracing for a blow, "I did not want you dead."

He laughed, softly and bitterly. He suddenly hated the stifling air of the hall around them and the crush of people. He wanted to throw off the rest of this wretched body and these hideous robes. He wanted her to see him in all of his vain and wonderful glory. He wanted to feel her pulse quicken and tremble beneath his touch. He wanted her heart to knock against her ribs like a caged bird trying to escape.

"Is that all?" he growled as he lowered his mouth to her ear.

"What more could there be?" she said innocently, her voice still perfectly smooth and cool.

"I do not know. Perhaps, you could enlighten me."

"Why would I ever want to do that? My heart has just been broken. Why should I open it to you?"

He looked at her. She was afraid but in a different way. She was afraid of herself. She always had been. He wanted her to turn that fear towards him. He wanted her to burn with it like pitch thrown onto a fire. "Would you feel more comfortable discussing these things in the study?" It was more of a command than a question.

She slid her gaze to the side in consideration. "I would like to get out of here. It is dangerous in the state you are in. My spell is unraveling."

He glanced down and saw the normal pallor of his skin returned to his entire arm now. "Good, then lead the way." He removed his hand from her throat and gently pushed her in the direction that they had entered from.

She cast a glance at him over her shoulder and moved her hands up and down the dark wall searching for the secret door. Her fingers found the door frame and opened it with a creak. He ducked his head underneath the lintel as he followed her into the stairwell. The Queen pushed the door shut behind them and summoned an orb of light that matched the color of her costume. Ganondorf stared down at his fingers and hands in the dim light and felt truly like himself for the first time in a long while. He could see the thick muscles playing beneath the thin layer of his tanned skin. He admired the hard earned scars that crisscrossed his forearms. Strength was brimming in him, but not just his own. He could feel the Triforce of Power humming quietly within him.

She led him up the steps and through several doors each in various states of neglect and decay. This seemed to be yet another path to his secret room. This time they passed through a corridor where he could hear the dripping of water and smelled a whiff of mildew in the stale air. It seemed Hyrule Castle was littered with secret tunnels and passages. A whole city could have hidden within its walls and no one would have ever known.

"Why are there so many secret tunnels?" he asked as he stepped out of the way of a spider's web.

"The intentions that started these were logical enough. The monarchs wanted to create secret passages as ways to spy on their nobles and as possible escape routes. Later tunnels were added to accommodate mistresses and spies. Sadly though, most of these are the result of eccentricity and paranoia. Many of my predecessors felt that they were not safe enough within their own walls so they built upon the tunnels with each generation to confuse their enemies. The result is the labyrinth we are currently in. It is sad to say but a touch of madness does run in my family." Her smile said that she did not find it quite so sad.

He said nothing to that. He only found it mildly interesting. It made sense in many ways. She came from a family of great power both politically and magically who had been entrusted with sacred relics. That was bound to breed some insanity. He saw no taint of it in her though. Indeed, some insanity might have done her a bit of good.

They continued on their journey in silence until they at last came upon the familiar small door. She opened it with a heavy iron key and let them in. The orb of light preceded them and hovered towards the ceiling where it remained.

"Help me light some candles," the Queen said briskly as she walked over to a bookshelf and took four candlesticks off of it. She handed two to Ganondorf and set the other two on separate tables. With a snap of her fingers, she lit their wicks and ordered him to do the same.

The magic came so easily it surprised him. Once, conjuring a small flame had been a parlour trick he learned as a child. Now, he felt as if he was the man who had found fire. He let the small flame dance from finger to finger, marveling in its light and warmth, before setting it to the end of the wicks and depositing the candles on two more tables. He stared at the manmade fire for a long time before he caught Zelda watching him intently with her curled half-smile.

"What?" he asked sheepishly, trying quickly to cover his embarrassment that he had been caught.

"I had just forgotten what it is like to feel amazement at doing magic. I suppose I have taken my abilities for granted." She shrugged carelessly and began to browse the books on the shelves.

"You would not if you had all of yours ripped away from you only to have them replaced suddenly without your knowledge," he grumbled, his anger rising again.

She shrugged again. "I have explained my motives to you. They are perfectly reasonable. You know that. You're just being stubborn."

"You have not explained all of your reasons yet." He stepped up behind her, nearly pinning her against the wall of books.

She turned slowly. "I told you that I did not want to see you dead. I think that is a fairly clear and understandable explanation."

He ripped off the cloth hat and veil, feeling foolish for still having them on, and threw them to the floor at their feet. "That is a simple explanation, but I have a feeling it is not the whole truth. There is a reason why you did not want me to remain dead. What was it?"

She smiled up at him bitterly, her eyes sparking in the golden light of the candles. "You are as cruel and greedy as ever I see. It is good to know that some things in this world never change."

"But many do, don't they?" He craned his neck down to see her better.

"Yes, they do."

"And?"

She let out a breath. "And I must admit that my feelings towards you are one of those things. I do not hate you. Congratulations."

"Zelda," he said in a charming and condescending tone of voice, "why must you fight me? Fight yourself? You only prolong the inevitable. That is all."

"I am not an easy woman to tolerate, Ganondorf, and you are not an easy man to handle."

"I know," he replied sincerely. That is where half of the appeal was for him. She was infuriating and challenging, but what she did she did unapologetically. There was nothing half-hearted about Zelda, and the same was true for himself. He wanted to hate her. He knew he should. Had not only a few short minutes ago had he been raging at her for what she had done to him? Yet here he was softening towards her like a teenage boy.

She let out a shaky sigh and touched the side of his face lightly with her fingers. "I suppose I should just go ahead and get it over with then, eh? I would have given anything to be able to say it to you when I thought you were dead. Here is my opportunity, why am I so reluctant to now?"

He swallowed. He struggled to keep his body from betraying him. His heart was pounding in his chest and moving up into his throat.

"Say it." The words did not come out as strongly as he wanted them to. They came out strangled and hoarse.

"I should hate you," she whispered mostly to herself. "But I do not. Not like I ought to. I love you." Her fingers withdrew from his cheek and started to flutter down to her side. He caught her wrist and pressed it to his lips.

"I know you should as I should hate you for the things you have done to me, but we do not always feel what we should. We can only feel what we do." He sounded like a lovesick child. It sickened him. It made everything inside of him rebel and quail against this wicked woman who would wreak such havoc in him. He knew she must feel much the same way.

"What do you feel for me?" The question was shy and soft and so vulnerable it seemed as if it could not have come from her lips. She was snow and ice imprisoned in a beautiful woman's body. She should not be capable of expressing such insecurity and such confliction.

He smiled at her, the grin caught between self-loathing and wickedness. "I feel what I feel and that is all."

"And is that love?" She started to draw her wrist away from him back to her chest.

He held it there. She would accept nothing less he knew that. "Yes."

She stopped fighting him and let him put her wrist to his mouth where he bit it lightly with his teeth. Her lids lowered dangerously. Her other hand wrapped around his neck as she stood on tiptoe and removed her wrist from his lips. She pressed her mouth to his.

Her lips were soft and hungry as they worked against his. His tongue slid into her mouth. His hand tangled into her hair which had returned to its natural golden color. His other hand pressed her tightly against him.

He moved his mouth from her lips to her neck and down to her shoulder. She made a small noise of pleasure in her throat at the action. His teeth nipped lightly at the white skin, which earned him a yelp of surprise but not pain. Her body became limp and pliant as he moved his hands and lips over her. Her eyes were misted and dreamy when he looked at them.

Her fingers dug into his back, her nails sharp and biting. Her hands wandered down to his hips and settled there for a moment. He could feel her hesitation. She wanted this, but she was unsure of how to go about it. He did not know how many lovers she had had before him or if she had even enjoyed those times, but he knew that they were all vastly different from that moment. He stood there patiently as he waited for her to make up her mind as to what she would do.

"Forgive me," she said quietly as she feigned an embarrassed laugh. "It's just been a long time for me."

"It's alright. I will make you remember." He kissed her again, forcing her back against the bookshelf. She murmured something in surprise against his lips. One of her hands remained on his hips, the other moved towards the front and dipped dangerously low. Fingertips lightly brushed against him through the thin fabric of his red robes. Come to think of it, why was he still wearing the ridiculous things? The thought was quickly drowned out as he felt slender fingers touch him. It had been too long for the both of them. He groaned in pleasure in response. She laughed against his lips.

The angle of the kiss was beginning to make his back ache due to their height difference. His hands reached for her hips to lift her up to him, but she broke the kiss and withdrew her touch. He felt the air leave his lungs. He looked at her in question.

"If this is to be done, it will not be done like this."

He raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. Her hands went up to the straps of her dress and slipped them off of her shoulders. The dark blue silk slid from her body and pooled at her feet. She stood there naked in the flickering of candles before him. Her armor was gone not in the removal of her clothes but in the light of her face. The hesitancy still shimmered on her features like a pool of water, but she was raw and defiant nonetheless.

His golden eyes flowed down from her aristocratic features to her white shoulders enameled in gold to her breasts and stomach to her rounded hips and her strong legs. He saw Wisdom breathing out of her. She knelt down in front of him and took the hem of his robes and drew it up as she stood. He lifted his arms over his head and assisted her. He flung the hindrance away into a far corner. It landed in a soft rustling of cloth.

The Queen took his hand in her own and led him away towards the pallet of blankets and pillows. He appreciatively watched her hips sway as she walked. Power echoed in the chambers of his chest, singing like a choir in the Temple of Time. The notes floated up and up into the dome of his brain. It was pleased with this. It rejoiced in the harmony of its sister.

She lied down on the pile of silks and velvets, their colors stark against her skin. He did the same and laid his body parallel to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew herself close to him. He could feel the warmth of her body spreading onto his. He found the cradle of her hips and pressed himself against her. She sighed into the crook of his neck as her arms tightened around him. He could feel her breasts on his chest rising and falling as she breathed. He dug his fingers into the flesh of her hip, fighting the urge rising in him to give her the time that she seemed to crave.

Her breath hitched in her throat. His hands roamed over her back to her hips. His dark fingers splayed wide on her white skin. Zelda had forgotten much. She had forgotten the joys of feeling someone else's flesh touch hers. The skin of his hands was rough and callused, but that did not matter to her at the moment. It was the warmth that she loved, that she reveled in. He burned like a flame against her. She thought for a moment that she could see his light shining through her, piercing her like sunbeams in the gloom of twilight.

They lay tangled together for a while, their legs sliding in and out between each other as they tested the unknown waters. Both of them had known previous lovers, him many, her few, but their disparity in experience did not matter. They had never been with anyone like each other before. How did you proceed to make love to someone who was your opposite and equal?

She threaded her fingers through his long red hair and let it fall softly against the palm of her hand. She had never appreciated the intensity of its color before now. It was like blood and fire and wine. All of which were sweet hot things that made life worth living. Her fingers left his hair and wandered down to the muscles of his neck and shoulders. She played her nails lightly across his skin, and it pleased her when she felt goose bumps rise where she touched him.

He kissed her neck and worked his way to her fair shoulders. They were as smooth and unblemished as alabaster, and he told her so. She laughed, and he complimented her again to hear the sound.

His hands seemed to grow restless remaining at her hips and so he slid them further down. He moved his hand down between her legs. She gasped at the touch and moved her hips closer to his. She could feel the length of him pushing against her thigh. Without warning, his finger slid into her and began to skillfully move in and out. His thumb rested tenderly on her nub and moved in wonderfully slow and agonizing circles. Her breath came faster and her muscles turned to water as he curled the end of his index finger slightly to create more friction.

"Do you like that?" he growled maliciously.

She would have shot something snide back at him if she had had the mind to. He knew she was enjoying it. He just wanted to hear her say it. She settled for nodding weakly as he continued faster. The pressure of his thumb increased as his finger hit that one perfect spot inside of her. Light exploded behind her eyes as she let the pleasure swell in her, and she rode it. The wave washed over in a single blinding moment that swallowed her whole. Her whole body felt soft and tingly as it surged up from between her legs to spread hotly through the rest of her.

His motion slowed and then stopped. He withdrew his hand from her and rested it lightly on her hip again. He wore a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He was pleased with himself, and she could tell from the increasing pressure against her leg that he was pleased with her.

She drew in a ragged breath and settled her head against his chest. It was only a moment before his hands began to wander again. His right hand cupped her breast and flicked his thumb across her nipple. A thrill ran through her blood. She could feel the nerves in her body dancing. She was an instrument that he played and each note was held long past its breaking point.

He kissed her neck and worked his way down to her shoulder and then her chest. His tongue darted across her nipple. Her breath caught in her throat. His long hair shielded his face from her view as she looked down at him. He gave another careful flick and bit her lightly. Her back arched in response, and she could hear the blood roaring in her ears. Her world shrank down to that one small space, to the confines of her body, as his mouth kissed and sucked. He moved to her other breast, his free hand wandering down her side and over her thigh. She ran her fingers through his hair, tangling them in waves of red. His teeth nipped lightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to excite her. She was dancing on that fine, thin edge again when he stopped and looked up at her.

"You are not used to this, are you?" he said seriously.

"Wh-what?" she replied breathlessly, having to teach herself how to speak again.

"Having a man pay attention to your needs," he elaborated as his fingers idly stroked her inner thigh.

She tried to recall memories of her past experiences with men. Some of them had been pleasant she thought, but they had never been this attentive or affectionate. It had mostly been before she was queen. After her coronation, the risk had been too great to take on lovers.

"No," she finally answered. "Is there anything you would have me do for you?"

He smiled evilly, much the same way he had when she had seen him from afar across the battlefield. It had merely seemed mocking and arrogant then. It still was, but she found that the effect of it on her was much more profound.

"No," he said. He moved alongside her until she could tuck her head underneath his chin again. "There is only one thing I want, and that is enough."

She nodded in understanding and took his face in her hands. She kissed him fiercely. She could feel sheets of ice tumbling down inside of her beneath the fury of it. He rumbled in his throat at the sudden intensity. Her lips roved from his mouth to his neck and back again. Strong fingers gripped her hips on both sides as he poised himself above her. He rested his weight on his knees and tugged her forward, forcing her thighs apart. She wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles together. He lowered himself onto his forearms, placing them on either side of her.

Zelda laced her fingers through his. The red of his hair mingled with the gold of hers as he stared down at her. His gaze bored right into hers. She could not have looked away if she wanted to. He moved his hips and slid into her in one smooth motion. She gripped his hand tighter as a shudder ran through her. He squeezed hers briefly in return. Then his hips rocked back, and he pushed himself into her again. She moaned in appreciation and watched his eyes cloud over with passion.

They found a rhythm. He rose, and she fell like the tides of the ocean. Instinctively, her hips rose to meet him, her legs pressing against his sides as she forced him deeper into her.

As he moved inside of her, his eyes remained locked on hers. He seemed to be studying every sigh and breath that passed between her lips. It delighted him when he changed the angle slightly and a gasp escaped her throat. She responded by twisting her hips just a bit and watched with pleasure as he bit his bottom lip and cursed her under his breath.

He found that same spot in her that his finger had previously. She moaned wordlessly and dug her nails into the backs of his hands. He quickened his speed and drove into her harder. That feeling of euphoria from earlier was starting to return. She could feel it clouding the edges of her mind. Her body felt strangely ethereal. She lifted her hips off of the ground and held onto him by the strength of her legs.

"Say it," he said in a hoarse voice.

"What?"

"My name." He answered as he pumped into her.

"No." She had to force the word out from between her lips. It took a great deal of effort to remember how to speak at the moment.

His pace slowed, and he grabbed her chin with his right hand while he steadied himself with his left. "Say it," he repeated.

She swallowed. "Why?"

"Because," he said, emphasizing the word with a thrust, "I want you to have no doubt or fantasies in your mind that it's me you're fucking."

She wanted to fight him on it. It was instinct. Everything inside of her told her that she should not give into this stupid and absurd request, but she was so close. She could feel it hovering on the edges of her consciousness, and she needed it. She had not realized how much a part of her had been missing, how much she had denied herself. "Fine," she assented, "but we are not fucking."

He let out a deep breath and increased his speed. She could feel the edge racing towards her. She was about to fall off of it. He hit that spot again, and she went reeling over. She was sent spinning end over end. It surged up inside of her and filled her until she thought she would burst with it.

"Ganondorf," she whispered softly. Once she said the word she found she could not stop. She wrapped her free arm around his neck and put her lips close to his ear. She murmured it over and over like a chant. It slipped off of her tongue easily.

His breathing became shaky as she repeated his name more swiftly and loudly. Their rhythm quickened and became lost as he slid into her harder and deeper. His arms began to tremble, and he hissed some word in a language she didn't know. It sounded like a curse, but she wasn't sure. She was too far gone to care anyways. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest against hers as the pleasure began to ebb in her. She continued to say his name more softly until he let out a guttural groan and slowed down until he stopped.

He rolled onto his side and laid there panting. Sweaty strands of red hair clung to his forehead as his dark, muscular chest rose and fell. She watched him blink a few times in confusion as he struggled to regain his composure. She had given that effort up when he had made her say his name. Her hair was in snarl s and tangles, her cheeks were as red as cherries, and she ached between her thighs, but she didn't care. She felt wonderful. A sense of peace had settled on her like a heavy blanket that she didn't want to shrug off. She could feel both of their Triforce pieces humming inside of them. She briefly wondered what Link had felt during that.

The Queen managed to smile at the Gerudo as she plucked a strand of hair from his face and tucked it back into its proper place. Normally, this was the part where the man closed his eyes and went to sleep, but she could see that his eyes were still wide awake. He looked down at her with a sated look in his eyes like a predator that had just made a successful kill.

He shook his head and began to laugh. She propped herself up with an elbow and stared at him as he continued to chuckle, shaking with the force of his own mirth. When it ended, he reached out to her and pulled her to him. He buried his face into her hair and drew in its scent.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Nothing," he answered as he lightly stroked her back with the tips of his blunt fingers.

"What was so funny?"

"Everything," he said simply. "This whole thing seems like a dream or a nightmare depending on who you ask." He looked at the back of his hand in the dimming candlelight. He could see the half-moon indentions where her nails had dug into his skin. He kissed the top of her head and relaxed into the pile of blankets and pillows surrounding them.

A few moments of silence passed before the Queen looked up at him thoughtfully. His golden eyes were still open, roaming over the ceiling and bookshelves.

"What are you thinking about?" she questioned.

"Hmm," he mumbled. "Many things. What will be the consequences of our actions tonight? Where we now stand with Filepus? What should I do with my returned piece? Whether you are willing to go again?"

She took his large hand in hers and turned it in the light, liking the look of his dark skin against her fair, two sides of the same coin. "I can only answer one of those questions, and the answer is yes." She stretched her neck to reach his lips and forced him onto his back. He raised an eyebrow in surprise as she straddled him. "But this time, I think I would like to be on top."

He flashed a wicked smile at her. "Of course, Your Majesty."

I meant to get this chapter up earlier at least in time for New Year but that didn't happen. This chapter was a monster to write. I just started, and it kept going and going. I think it's the longest chapter I've ever written. Anyways, if you made it to the end, thank you! This was my first time writing a love scene so if it doesn't seem quite up to par with the rest of the story that's why. I know it was mushy and probably way too mellow-dramatic, but that is mostly because I wanted this to be a love scene. I did not want to this to be snarky, angry sex. I appreciate those kinds of scenes, and they are fun to write, but I am really trying to balance this story out with serious moments. I wanted this moment to be climatic (sorry for the pun), and I just felt like in order for it to culminate it needed to be emotional. In my mind, one of the main themes of this story has been Zelda coming to terms with herself and her emotions. I just didn't think that would happen as well if I made the scene anymore humorous than it already was.

I'm very sorry if this disappointed some of you. I rewrote this thing like five times, never quite satisfied with it. This version is the closest that I got. I would appreciate any thoughts or constructive criticisms you might have about the chapter in general or the love scene in particular. I am terrible at writing love scenes and fight scenes, and I am always looking for ways to improve upon either.

Thanks for your time. I think this story might have two chapters left to it at most, and then it's done.

P.S.-I'm wondering if anyone could guess who I tried to disguise Ganondorf as. I would love to hear your answers, though I think it was rather obvious.