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tamingthemuseTitle: Inside Out
Fandom: Legend of Zelda
Prompt: 105 - Conqueror
Word Count: 1,752
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Nintendo. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
Summary: From his prison between worlds Ganon finds himself in an odd and one-sided relationship.
Fandom: Legend of Zelda
Prompt: 105 - Conqueror
Word Count: 1,752
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Nintendo. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
Summary: From his prison between worlds Ganon finds himself in an odd and one-sided relationship.
It had become habit for them. Illicit meetings at the edge of reality, he liked to call them. The conqueror calling forth the vanquished. Settings changed almost each time; a meadow once; a riverbank another time; her father’s throne room; the Gerudo tent where he first realized his destiny as holder of the Triforce of Power; and, most recently, a drawing room from Hyrule Castle.
Ganondorf Dragmire often wondered if she always controlled the setting, if she gave special thought to where they would talk, or if his mind occasionally selected a memory to relive if only for a short time.
Either way, he enjoyed the break in monotony. He didn’t know how long the Triforce of Power would keep him alive to hang in limbo between the Light and Dark worlds, but after two decades he hadn't notice any change in his form. Perhaps the same thoughts and magic that provided the setting for their meetings also shaped how he appeared?
Ganondorf would have to consider that next time he hung in the nothingness waiting for her to summon him for another meeting. Thoughts and considerations were all he had now...when she didn’t need him, of course.
It was the drawing room this time. He would never admit it to her, but Ganondorf approved of the selection—even if it was Hylian in style and decoration. He had developed a taste for civility and refinement during his occupancy of Hyrule Castle.
The carpet was deep red in color—like dried blood. Two high backed, plush chairs sat facing each other in front of a steadily burning fire that did not cast any heat. Several windows, hidden behind thick burgundy drapes, were located around the circular chamber. Though bright, pre-natural light peeked through the gaps in the drapes, the flickering flamelight allowed for an almost intimate atmosphere.
She was waiting for him in one of the two chairs. While she always wore her years, her appearance changed from meeting to meeting. Once, when their meeting took place in that Gerudo tent from so many years ago, her blonde hair was pulled back and worn up in the style of his Gerudo warriors.
To this day Ganondorf didn’t know if she had added that little touch or if his own mind had influenced her appearance. Before his imprisonment Ganondorf would have seen changing her hairstyle as an expression of his power over her. Now, however, he almost wished it was her touch not his.
Today her hair was down and thrown softly over her shoulders in a blatant display of femininity. Years had added faint lines and character to her face. She was clad in a deep green silk dress that blended perfectly with the dim, intimate decor. Her legs were crossed and one foot encased in a delicate slipper bounced up and down in a small sign of impatience.
Ganondorf glanced down at his youthful, armor-clad body and smiled. Even thought it was only a fantasy, it still felt good to be back in his old skin. “Good evening, Princess Zelda,” he said smoothly.
A single, perfectly trimmed brow twitched in annoyance. “It’s Queen Zelda now,” she said. Her voice was calm and laced with the cultured Hylian accent his ears never really adapted to. “It was the last time when I corrected you, as it was the time before that, and it will be the same the next we meet.”
He smiled again. “Forgive me for not remembering,” he said. “I have many glimpses of the world that I must remember.”
“I haven’t given you any glimpses,” Zelda said. “You know nothing of the outside world. Sit, Ganondorf.”
Leather creaked as he moved to the chair across from hers. He sat and regarded her with the full confidence and attitude his old position had commanded. He was, after all, a former revolutionist that rose to control the most powerful country in the known world. Ganondorf interlaced his fingers and peered at her from underneath brushy red eyebrows.
“What brings you here this evening, Your Highness?”
“Morbid curiosity,” she answered. “The same as always.”
“I think it’s something more.” He smiled behind his hands. “I think you find companionship here.”
She scoffed at that. “You are hardly my first choice of companions.”
“Point,” Ganondorf conceded. “But there are only two people besides myself in all the worlds that can understand what it is like to touch the power of the Goddesses.” He pulled the armored gauntlets off his hands and held up the one emblazoned with the symbol of the Triforce. “You, Link, and myself have all used the Triforce. It changes you permanently, Queen Zelda, I know. People may befriend you and think they understand, but no one can ever truly appreciate what that power tastes like.
“It’s intoxicating, isn’t it? To hold the power that the Goddesses commanded. To feel life and death within reach of your fingertips.”
Zelda shook her head. “My gift is Wisdom,” she said. “Only you felt the temptation of Power.”
He smiled. “Philosophers are the only ones that mark a difference in the Triforce. All three are expressions of the same power; to know one is to know them all. That is true for us especially.”
“I am a philosopher.” Her defiance remained steadfast. “You hunger for power still, and narrow mindedly assume that all desire the same power. That assumption helped bring about your downfall.”
“We all desire power of some sort, Zelda.” She didn’t respond when he dropped the honorific. “Everyone has his or her own price of betrayal. For the right amount, a priest would betray his god, a child would stab her mother, and a hero would commit treason against his country.”
That drew a reaction—her eyes narrowed slightly. Just a small response, but it was nevertheless a victory for Ganondorf. He had such small thrills left in life.
“So how is Link these days?” Ganondorf asked.
Zelda leaned back in her chair. “He is well.”
“He never visits,” Ganondorf said. “I have been called from my imprisonment many times over the years for your amusement, but never for his. Is this a message? Do I still frighten him so much that he cannot face me?”
“I don’t know his reasons,” Zelda said. “Though I would assume he is too busy to give you much thought.”
“Didn’t we determine that assumptions were dangerous things a long time ago, Zelda?”
The popping of the fire in the hearth was the only sound in the chamber for a long moment. Ganondorf basked in his small verbal victory over the ruler of Hyrule while Zelda contemplated the fire, lost in royal thoughts.
Ganondorf studied the fine lines of her face, admiring the powerful woman that had grown from the child that so bravely led the rebellion against him. He had taken her father’s life and missed her by only seconds. Had the Sheikah not rushed her from the castle, she would have been his.
That line of thought brought images that were hardly new to him now. In another life, had history been just a little different, he quite possibly would have taken her. Ganondorf allowed himself to imagine how she would fight against him, biting and scratching to the very last second. The pain and blood would be a secondary gift to him.
In the beginning of his rise to power, while he was still uniting the Gerudo tribes underneath one rule, it had been easier to find women to satisfy his particular tastes. There were always warriors that refused to believe he was the prophesized male Gerudo. Those were the ones he took to his bed. They would fight with amazing strength and fire. It was from their raw hate that he drew his strength.
Once secure in his reign, however, the women he selected no longer fought him. Ganondorf was disgusted at how easily they would spread their legs for their king. No fighting, no blood, and no pain. The pleasure was gone by then.
Zelda, he knew, would have put up a fight to match even the most impassioned of his Gerudo warriors. Such thoughts existed only in daydreams now. He did not dare touch Zelda in this realm where she held all the power. Even if he succeeded once, she could still take away these visits and then he would be alone in the nothingness between worlds forever.
No pleasure was worth that type of pain.
Ganondorf followed her gaze to the hearth. “We need wine,” he said suddenly. “Such a setting almost demands a fine vintage, wouldn’t you agree?”
Zelda glanced to him and smiled slightly. “It would have no taste,” she said. “Everything here is only an illusion of reality.”
This was all he had. Ganondorf smiled at the irony. “It is the simple things like a glass of wine, the heat of the desert, and smells of conflict that I miss the most. All the power and magic between the two of us and we cannot create something so basic.”
She gave one last glance at the fire then sighed. “Time to go.”
Ganondorf sat up straighter in spite of himself. “So soon?” he asked. “Our meeting only just begun.”
Zelda stood. “I have nothing more to say to you.” There was no rancor in her voice, only simple fact. He had served his purpose for the time being and was now being sent away.
Ganondorf followed her as she walked to the rear of the chamber. He could feel this reality slipping away and the nothingness returning. He wanted desperately for her to stay, for the meeting to last longer, and at the same time abhorred such feelings. The former ruler of the most powerful country in the known world reduced to serving at this woman’s feet.
If she thought to punish him by calling him to these meetings only to remind him what he could no longer possess, then she succeeded. A constant reminder throughout the rest of his existence that the outside world was denied to him. He could think of no worse torture.
“Zelda,” he called as reality began fading. “Bring Link next time.”
The color had blanched from the chamber and her form seemed much smaller and farther away than it had only seconds ago. At that request, she actually laughed.
“And wear your hair up, too,” he added.
The world was gone in that instant, though, and he doubted she heard his request. There was always next time...
End
Ganondorf Dragmire often wondered if she always controlled the setting, if she gave special thought to where they would talk, or if his mind occasionally selected a memory to relive if only for a short time.
Either way, he enjoyed the break in monotony. He didn’t know how long the Triforce of Power would keep him alive to hang in limbo between the Light and Dark worlds, but after two decades he hadn't notice any change in his form. Perhaps the same thoughts and magic that provided the setting for their meetings also shaped how he appeared?
Ganondorf would have to consider that next time he hung in the nothingness waiting for her to summon him for another meeting. Thoughts and considerations were all he had now...when she didn’t need him, of course.
It was the drawing room this time. He would never admit it to her, but Ganondorf approved of the selection—even if it was Hylian in style and decoration. He had developed a taste for civility and refinement during his occupancy of Hyrule Castle.
The carpet was deep red in color—like dried blood. Two high backed, plush chairs sat facing each other in front of a steadily burning fire that did not cast any heat. Several windows, hidden behind thick burgundy drapes, were located around the circular chamber. Though bright, pre-natural light peeked through the gaps in the drapes, the flickering flamelight allowed for an almost intimate atmosphere.
She was waiting for him in one of the two chairs. While she always wore her years, her appearance changed from meeting to meeting. Once, when their meeting took place in that Gerudo tent from so many years ago, her blonde hair was pulled back and worn up in the style of his Gerudo warriors.
To this day Ganondorf didn’t know if she had added that little touch or if his own mind had influenced her appearance. Before his imprisonment Ganondorf would have seen changing her hairstyle as an expression of his power over her. Now, however, he almost wished it was her touch not his.
Today her hair was down and thrown softly over her shoulders in a blatant display of femininity. Years had added faint lines and character to her face. She was clad in a deep green silk dress that blended perfectly with the dim, intimate decor. Her legs were crossed and one foot encased in a delicate slipper bounced up and down in a small sign of impatience.
Ganondorf glanced down at his youthful, armor-clad body and smiled. Even thought it was only a fantasy, it still felt good to be back in his old skin. “Good evening, Princess Zelda,” he said smoothly.
A single, perfectly trimmed brow twitched in annoyance. “It’s Queen Zelda now,” she said. Her voice was calm and laced with the cultured Hylian accent his ears never really adapted to. “It was the last time when I corrected you, as it was the time before that, and it will be the same the next we meet.”
He smiled again. “Forgive me for not remembering,” he said. “I have many glimpses of the world that I must remember.”
“I haven’t given you any glimpses,” Zelda said. “You know nothing of the outside world. Sit, Ganondorf.”
Leather creaked as he moved to the chair across from hers. He sat and regarded her with the full confidence and attitude his old position had commanded. He was, after all, a former revolutionist that rose to control the most powerful country in the known world. Ganondorf interlaced his fingers and peered at her from underneath brushy red eyebrows.
“What brings you here this evening, Your Highness?”
“Morbid curiosity,” she answered. “The same as always.”
“I think it’s something more.” He smiled behind his hands. “I think you find companionship here.”
She scoffed at that. “You are hardly my first choice of companions.”
“Point,” Ganondorf conceded. “But there are only two people besides myself in all the worlds that can understand what it is like to touch the power of the Goddesses.” He pulled the armored gauntlets off his hands and held up the one emblazoned with the symbol of the Triforce. “You, Link, and myself have all used the Triforce. It changes you permanently, Queen Zelda, I know. People may befriend you and think they understand, but no one can ever truly appreciate what that power tastes like.
“It’s intoxicating, isn’t it? To hold the power that the Goddesses commanded. To feel life and death within reach of your fingertips.”
Zelda shook her head. “My gift is Wisdom,” she said. “Only you felt the temptation of Power.”
He smiled. “Philosophers are the only ones that mark a difference in the Triforce. All three are expressions of the same power; to know one is to know them all. That is true for us especially.”
“I am a philosopher.” Her defiance remained steadfast. “You hunger for power still, and narrow mindedly assume that all desire the same power. That assumption helped bring about your downfall.”
“We all desire power of some sort, Zelda.” She didn’t respond when he dropped the honorific. “Everyone has his or her own price of betrayal. For the right amount, a priest would betray his god, a child would stab her mother, and a hero would commit treason against his country.”
That drew a reaction—her eyes narrowed slightly. Just a small response, but it was nevertheless a victory for Ganondorf. He had such small thrills left in life.
“So how is Link these days?” Ganondorf asked.
Zelda leaned back in her chair. “He is well.”
“He never visits,” Ganondorf said. “I have been called from my imprisonment many times over the years for your amusement, but never for his. Is this a message? Do I still frighten him so much that he cannot face me?”
“I don’t know his reasons,” Zelda said. “Though I would assume he is too busy to give you much thought.”
“Didn’t we determine that assumptions were dangerous things a long time ago, Zelda?”
The popping of the fire in the hearth was the only sound in the chamber for a long moment. Ganondorf basked in his small verbal victory over the ruler of Hyrule while Zelda contemplated the fire, lost in royal thoughts.
Ganondorf studied the fine lines of her face, admiring the powerful woman that had grown from the child that so bravely led the rebellion against him. He had taken her father’s life and missed her by only seconds. Had the Sheikah not rushed her from the castle, she would have been his.
That line of thought brought images that were hardly new to him now. In another life, had history been just a little different, he quite possibly would have taken her. Ganondorf allowed himself to imagine how she would fight against him, biting and scratching to the very last second. The pain and blood would be a secondary gift to him.
In the beginning of his rise to power, while he was still uniting the Gerudo tribes underneath one rule, it had been easier to find women to satisfy his particular tastes. There were always warriors that refused to believe he was the prophesized male Gerudo. Those were the ones he took to his bed. They would fight with amazing strength and fire. It was from their raw hate that he drew his strength.
Once secure in his reign, however, the women he selected no longer fought him. Ganondorf was disgusted at how easily they would spread their legs for their king. No fighting, no blood, and no pain. The pleasure was gone by then.
Zelda, he knew, would have put up a fight to match even the most impassioned of his Gerudo warriors. Such thoughts existed only in daydreams now. He did not dare touch Zelda in this realm where she held all the power. Even if he succeeded once, she could still take away these visits and then he would be alone in the nothingness between worlds forever.
No pleasure was worth that type of pain.
Ganondorf followed her gaze to the hearth. “We need wine,” he said suddenly. “Such a setting almost demands a fine vintage, wouldn’t you agree?”
Zelda glanced to him and smiled slightly. “It would have no taste,” she said. “Everything here is only an illusion of reality.”
This was all he had. Ganondorf smiled at the irony. “It is the simple things like a glass of wine, the heat of the desert, and smells of conflict that I miss the most. All the power and magic between the two of us and we cannot create something so basic.”
She gave one last glance at the fire then sighed. “Time to go.”
Ganondorf sat up straighter in spite of himself. “So soon?” he asked. “Our meeting only just begun.”
Zelda stood. “I have nothing more to say to you.” There was no rancor in her voice, only simple fact. He had served his purpose for the time being and was now being sent away.
Ganondorf followed her as she walked to the rear of the chamber. He could feel this reality slipping away and the nothingness returning. He wanted desperately for her to stay, for the meeting to last longer, and at the same time abhorred such feelings. The former ruler of the most powerful country in the known world reduced to serving at this woman’s feet.
If she thought to punish him by calling him to these meetings only to remind him what he could no longer possess, then she succeeded. A constant reminder throughout the rest of his existence that the outside world was denied to him. He could think of no worse torture.
“Zelda,” he called as reality began fading. “Bring Link next time.”
The color had blanched from the chamber and her form seemed much smaller and farther away than it had only seconds ago. At that request, she actually laughed.
“And wear your hair up, too,” he added.
The world was gone in that instant, though, and he doubted she heard his request. There was always next time...
End
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Date: 2008-07-27 02:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-27 02:23 am (UTC)