Chapter Text
The cycle...continues.
After all his millennia wishing that wouldn't be the case, he can't really say he is entirely surprised that the goddesses have a sick sense of humor. And so here he is, finding himself on the business end of that goddess forsaken blade once again. Ganondorf scowls and tightens his grip on his trident, now isn't the time to dwell on such things. Not with those eyes glaring daggers into his face, master sword clutched in two determined hands. A growl escapes between his teeth, moving swiftly towards the boy that blocks his path towards yet another hard fought for victory.
He’s decidedly had enough of just standing around, waiting for the two before him to finish whatever scheme they were coming up with. He watches as the Princess scurries back to a place in the distance, safely away from the incoming fight, before raising his trident and taking the last few steps forward, throwing it and taking a deep breath as the hero brings his shield up to block. With a ferocious roar, Ganondorf breathes fire in the moment the hero has his guard down. The hero, ever diligent, drops into a graceful roll and avoids both fire and trident.
Ganondorf feels the rage well up in his vision, the rage with being cornered like some animal in this fucking field, of having been so close to his goal only to be sent running once again. In the pit of his soul where Malice resides he feels the thing resonate with a gleeful inquiry, and he growls his agreeance before the world goes red. That Hatred for the injustice of it all finally taking over the battle for him.
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He hears the final blow before he feels it; He's been brought to his knees, and the disgusting sound of metal going through flesh is hard to miss. His breath stutters around the moon lit blade in his chest, and that's when he feels it, sees it. The carnage of their fight; the singed grass from flames and lightning, the blood that has just begun to soak into the field, the pain that strikes him through the chest, the side, the arm, his left hand. Ganondorf grits his teeth against that pain, forcing himself back into the present so that he can glare fully at his attacker once again.
Determined blue eyes stare into his, one hand on the hilt of the master sword, the other on his side, clamped around a wound Ganondorf assumes he dealt him only a few seconds prior. It's hard to be sure, with all this pain clouding the memories Malice is trying to shove at him. Courage leaves the blade in a few seconds longer, as if to gloat, before he pulls it out and stumbles back onto one knee, using the sword that seals the darkness to keep himself upright.
"Did your beloved princess...flee?", Ganondorf grins and goes to pulls himself off the ground, only to hesitate when the Hero shakes his head and grips his side harder, trying to staunch the blood flow to a wound that will obviously prove just as fatal as Ganondorf's own. Ganondorf narrows his eyes, looking around the blood-soaked battlefield for any sign of the Wisdom Bearer, but there is none. Only he, struggling as he is to remain on his two legs from sheer force of will alone, and the Hero remain on the tainted ground.
Of course, maybe if he hadn't been so critical of the blood-soaked field that lay in front of him, Ganondorf may have heard the numerous voices that were just finishing a chant behind him. As it stood, he didn't notice the noise until there was a lack of it, and the eerie turquoise glow that slowly approached shortly after the voices ceased promised nothing good. Too tired to turn completely around, Ganondorf was forced to look over his shoulder at the glow, watching its approach until finally it stopped right in front of him.
Zelda glowed an incandescent blue, the heat of her coming off in waves to hit Ganondorf in the face. However, that didn't stop him from trying to take in the full of the transformation that Wisdom managed in less than 30 minutes. Where her hair had once been a brilliant gold, it had now faded, graying in many parts as if she were apart of some painting left in the sun too long. Her skin, once rosy and pale, had now lost the rosiness and gotten to be so pale it was almost white, and seemed to be stretched over clawed fingers. Even all her golden jewelry did nothing to hide the transformations her body had undergone, and for this Ganondorf smiles as he leans in close.
"What kind of monster must you have turned yourself into, Wisdom?", there's something about her appearance that's been bugging him, but he can't really place a finger on it, and his tired mind decides that it is far too unimportant.
"To beat a beast, you must become one. You will not return here, after what I accomplish.", He sneers and goes to move away, move back from her, but he's grabbed before he can go through with the action. He closes his eyes against the burn of her skin against his, grits his teeth and growls. But when he next opens his eyes, he is no longer in the field, the burn no longer present.
No, he's in some sort of cave system. She's still in front of him, but her hands have been placed behind her back, and now she just stares at him.
"What is the meaning of this?", Ganondorf growls, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides in barely contained rage. His trident was left on that battlefield, so if she decides to attack he will have to fight her with what little magical reserves he still holds. She does not answer, instead just beginning a calm advance toward him. He is much too prideful to give up ground to anyone, so he stands and waits as she stops, once again, right in front of him.
Then, before he can even think of a proper counterattack, her right hand lashes out, gripping onto the fresh sword wound and digging her new claws into the flesh. It's only really then that he realizes what had been off about her demeanor this whole time; she's floating. She's directly head to head with him now, but as the burning sensation begins to course through his veins with the blue light, he can't bring himself to care. He throws his head back, roaring or screaming from the agony of it, he can't tell. Just before he blacks out, though, he hears her, in his ear. Sweet as a bell and taunting;
"May you never wake in a thousand lifetimes, and even should you, may the thing you wish for be forever out of reach."
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After that, he falls in and out of 'consciousness', unable to move his body, or feel anything, he’s unsure if it counts as such. Most of the times he is ‘awake’ are fuzzy, like trying to grasp water with your hands open; he remembers...hearing people, carving on the walls, but leaving him and his binding undisturbed, he remembers sensing people mining somewhere in a cave close by, keeping a safe distance away from him, remembers vaguely that at some point the Yiga came and paid respects to him, promised to keep their order on his chosen path.
When next he 'wakes' it's to the sound of a roar. He feels nothing, and sees nothing, and he does not breathe. He knows he is awake, however, because of the godforsaken voice that has now entered his head. One that is hatefully similar to the one that locked him here. It prays to the Goddess for strength, for wisdom, for her hero. Then, it falls silent, and he sleeps.
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When next he wakes, it is to the same voice, supposedly having found him in the midst of whatever is going on out in the world.
"Who....are you?", the voice sounds hesitant, shy, yet strong. Nothing like the wisdom bearers of the past, that thought alone almost makes Ganon want to laugh.
"My name is Ganondorf.", the voice is quiet after that, probably shocked out of a response. Ganondorf waits for who knows how long before he finally decides Wisdom is going to respond, and thus he settles in for another rest. Only to be jarred out of it what feels like minutes later when she does respond;
"My name is Zelda, it's...well, not really a pleasure seeing as you ate me, but greetings nonetheless.", the Gerudo bursts into laughter at that point, no longer able to hold it as he feels Zelda flinch back from his space.
"I have done no such thing! I am trapped deep underground, there is no way I could've...eaten you, was it? Though it is an amusing mental image.", he allows his amusement to seep into the bond that Wisdom has formed between them, further enjoying the way she becomes confused by his news and works in silence to puzzle it out. He's happy to leave her to it, and with no more conversation to be had, he sleeps.
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He's awoken, without preamble, by the sound of the young Zelda asking questions. What race is he? When was he trapped? Does he know where? Does he know how many years it’s been? What's he seen? Well then, what's he heard? The questions continue, and he finds that he does not mind. With the cycle he once knew so irreparably broken, and so many...years? Weeks? Millennia? Without contact, he answers all her questions with patience and amusement.
And it goes on like this, for many, many years, as Zelda tells him. She happily informs him of days passing, then weeks, then years, all while asking questions and chattering away. He understands, it's probably her only way of staying sane, waiting for the hero to come along.
"...Hey, Ganondorf?", they had lapsed into a semi-comfortable silence when next she speaks to him. She's hesitant, poking shyly at the edges of this strange bond that she unwittingly formed between them.
"Yes, Princess?", the silence after his response stretches for longer than before, and he bids himself ignore how uncomfortable it makes him.
"It's just...it's been nearly a century since I've been trapped here-"
"I know, you've kept count."
"And I have hopes that Link will remember enough to come for me...", she hesitates, he can feel the question on the edges of the bond, and while he does not completely understand why she would want to do such a thing, or if that is even the question at all, he decides to answer her as if it were.
"There are plenty of people who will be unhappy to see me found and freed, little Wisdom. Your own ancestors are probably rolling around in their graves."
"Yes, well, I've never been a big fan of theirs.", he laughs at this, he never would have thought he would find a wisdom so dissimilar from the rest, and yet she keeps surprising him. Her giggles serve to carry him into his next bout of sleep, and this time, he finds he is rather looking forward to waking up.
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It is silent, and at first he believes he might still be sleeping. But no, no he doesn't think when he sleeps, there is nothing when he sleeps. A dark pit a dread opening up as he strains to hear anything; even if it was just a rock fall, or water dripping down from the cave ceiling. But there is nothing. There are no architects working around him, no miners, no little Wisdom. That thought would've jolted him if he could move, because that's when he realizes that the connection he'd been using to talk to her for so long is just...gone. He reaches for it, but he doesn't know what to grab for, and so his search falls short. He supposes he shouldn't be entirely surprised, given what she said the last time they talked. But he just figured they'd have more...
Time. He chuckles at the irony, and attempts to tell himself then that he will no longer dwell on her absence.
Ganondorf is so caught up in his own thoughts, in the feeling of dread he can't even find words to explain, that he does not, cannot, hear the footsteps that have hesitantly made their way into the room. It’s only the gasp, and the clatter of something wooden against the stone that draws him from the spiral his thoughts had been taking. Who is it, he wonders, that would willingly make the journey down here, and yet be shocked to find what his room holds?
‘Little Wisdom.’, Ganondorf’s mind supplies him, and it’s really the only explanation. She didn’t seem to know anything. But then how long must’ve passed from their conversation, that she was able to find him?
He hears her, no them there are two sets of footsteps, with one slightly behind the first, hesitantly grow closer until they’ve come to be only a few feet away. And then he feels; the heat of the torch, the dull pain radiating out from his chest, the way his mouth is still open in that horrible scream. He must be quite a sight, for these people. The thought brings his slightly overwhelmed mind a sense of amusement as he tries to move, because if he can feel, surely Wisdom’s binding must be fading.
The sharp intake of breath on Ganondorf’s right would have told him he succeeds, even if he couldn’t feel the way his fingers twitch.
“Step back, Zelda.”, he hears a deep voice call from further away. What does he think Ganondorf will do, stare the Princess to death? The princess seems to give a nonverbal response, one that Ganondorf is far too busy trying to get the rest of his arm to move to really dwell on, because the voice takes another step forward as if readying itself. For what, Ganondorf isn’t entirely sure, until he feels a hand in his, hesitant before it grasps his fingers. The warmth is almost unbearable.
“Ganondorf, I am unsure if you can hear me, but I have come for you. As I said I would, I am sorry it took so long.”, she truly does sound apologetic, like she has wronged him. He feels a response tingle in the back of his throat, but there are no vocal cords to say them with, no breath to even begin to sound them out. And so, he just gathers up all his will in both arms, and forces his body to turn his head in the direction of her voice, the sudden snap of his neck in the direction he willed it giving him a strange sense of satisfaction. But even still, it's not enough, he still can't see, can't fully and willingly move without some sort of resistance. He supposes his intense aggravation with the situation gets his body to remedy at least one of those problems.
The first thing he sees is her; Zelda. She looks scared, but does not let go of the grip she has on his hand, meeting his eyes, if they can even be called that, dead on. Her hair is short and blonde this time, unlike the many other Zelda’s Ganondorf has met in his seemingly endless lifetimes, who wore their long hair with pride. She wears what looks to be the adventuring gear of this era as well, a small sword strapped to her waste and a bow and quiver on her back. The second thing his new eyes drift towards is, of course, the hero.
The hero, like all the others, has this sort of emotional wall between him and the rest of the world. The way he grips the torch in his hands as if he were ready to turn it into a weapon is not lost on Ganon, but nor does Ganon particularly care. Courage has always been one to run head first into a battle, and as Ganondorf is right now, he would not give the man much of a fight.
He feels the familiar tingle of magic coursing through him, halting his investigations of the room and immediately snapping his attentions to where Zelda’s and his hand meet. The golden glow and way he’s gaining more control over his body telling him that she’s attempting to heal him to the best of her abilities. He has been waiting centuries for an escape, so Ganondorf supposes it could not hurt him to wait for her to finish. When he’s given back his vocal cords and tongue, he closes his mouth, his eyes and he blinks. How strange it feels, to blink after so long of not even having eyelids. He’s given back some form of muscle mass last, and it comes with no warning as his body practically collapses on itself with the added weight. The cry of alarm Zelda lets out as he falls to his knees pierces the silence that had fallen over the cavern.
Working at curling and uncurling his fists he brings them up to his line of sight, the papery, thin skin most probably not nearly as pronounced as it was only a few minutes before little Wisdom’s ministrations. He brings one hand up to his face, where he feels wrinkles more pronounced than he's ever had them, the other to touch the exposed skin at the center of his chest- something the Yiga did no doubt, putting him in some sort of ceremonial outfit to honor him or some such- where he feels five tiny holes under his fingertips. It almost feels like something's been ripped out of his from that, but as he's trying to puzzle out exactly what Wisdom could have taken Zelda kneels in front of him, taking the hand on his face with a soft, shy smile and delicate hand.
“Welcome back, Ganondorf.”