loreweaver-universe:

loreweaver-universe:

loreweaver-universe:

loreweaver-universe:

loreweaver-universe:

I really wanna write a Zelda all about Dadondorf, like

In this cycle, Ganondorf wakes up/reincarnates/is freed early, and as he’s finally gotten sick of the cycles, he finds the infant Hero of Courage and either kidnaps him or orphans him so that he can raise him for himself, with the goal of corrupting him towards darkness and evil

But over time, Link corrupts Ganondorf, and by the time he’s old enough for him becoming the Hero of Courage to begin reasonably getting set in motion, Ganondorf has legitimately become a caring father to him

And then this cycle’s Zelda begins a hunt for the Hero of Courage and the Bearer of Power, because Ganondorf’s awakening all those years ago did not go unnoticed, and this Zelda only believes in the roles Fate has laid out for the three; as such she’s lost perspective on her own rule and has become something of a tyrant.  When she and her entourage reach Link and Ganondorf’s village, she meets them both (by accident; Ganondorf didn’t know she was there) and she takes Ganondorf prisoner with the intent of executing him

And Link has to begin his journey in a way nobody ever intended: to free the land from the tyrannical Princess Zelda, and to rescue Ganondorf from her diabolical clutches

Bonus points for Ganondorf reveling in the quiet love of the parental bond and genuinely being remorseful for his actions in past cycles

Additionally, Link has to wrest the usual Zelda reincarnations from fate’s
grasp; he has to convince Impa to rebel, the oracles of the three goddesses to forsake
their traditional champion, he has to spend the entire game telling
fate that the universe has finally had enough.

Revision: Ganondorf DOES know Zelda is coming and hides, but Link wanders out, is met by her, and when she tries to take him back to her castle by force Ganondorf steps in to protect him and is taken prisoner instead.

Further addition: Dadondorf takes Link to a Gerudo village to raise him, and Link grows up surrounded by sisters and moms and when Zelda shows up to search the village he’s like “Oh that’s a lady who looks like me!!! EXCITEMENT!!!  Ladies are nice, she must be nice!  I’m gonna say hi!”

Poor Link has no idea the storm he’d set in motion with that misjudgment.

(WOW this got way longer than I thought it would)

“It was not like the Hero of Courage to be so…afraid.“  Zelda leaned in, her nose almost brushing the bars of Ganondorf’s cage.  She was tantalizingly close, but this cell had been designed to hold him.  Him, specifically; the magic woven into the cell meant he could no more reach through the bars than he could lift himself up by his own bootstraps.  “What did you do to his spirit, while he was in your…care?  How did you break the unbreakable?“

Ganondorf chuckled.  “Do you really believe that courage is the absence of fear?”

A tilt of her head, a narrowing of her eyes.  “What is it, then?  Tell me, ancient one.  You have faced us in countless cycles past.  What is his courage, if not that?”

He shook his head, then leaned back against the wall of his cell.  “I thought that too, at first.  I thought, yes, this is the one foe that fate had chosen to bar my way!  He must be a paragon of courage, of fearlessness, for what am I if not the paragon of power?  But, then…we fought.  We fought, and I looked into his eyes, and I saw terror.  I saw desperation.  And as I lay bleeding in the dust, I saw that the absence of fear–my absence of fear–was naught but foolishness, and that true courage came from accepting fear, from allowing it into your heart as a friend, and from there it would help you stand tall when others turned and fled.  I thought myself unstoppable, until I faced a boy who’d defeated me in his heart before we ever met face-to-face.”  Ganondorf smirked.  “And from then on, I knew fear.”

The Queen straightened, her face cast in shadow; Ganondorf couldn’t tell if she was pondering his words, or had discarded them as the rambling justifications of…well, of Ganondorf, the Ancient Evil.  After a moment’s silence, she spoke again, but this time she sounded troubled.

“Why did he not cry out?  If he was so afraid of me, why did he not object?  He merely tried to pull away, to run.  He did not call for help.  He did not ask for mercy.”  Another pause.  “Did it simply not occur to him?”

Ganondorf’s smile disappeared.  “…He can’t.”

“He what?”

He sighed.  “He can’t talk.  I’ve been trying to teach him for his entire life.  It’s as if the words just get…caught in his throat.  I’d never thought anything of it before; in all those cycles, I counted fewer words from him than duels we fought.  He understands everyone around him perfectly, but…”  Ganondorf gestured helplessly.  ”All he can get out are mangled grunts and half-noises.  It hurts him to even try.“

“That’s ludicrous,” Zelda scoffed.  “None of the tales mention that.  You’re playing games with me, and I’ll not suffer it gladly.”  She turned to leave, and called over her shoulder, “We’ll speak again once your hunger makes you willing to tell me the truth, Gerudo.”

Before she could leave the dungeon, Ganondorf barked a laugh.  “You’re trapped.”

Zelda stopped, seemed to wrestle with herself for a moment, and then turned to meet the challenge.  “I’m not the one in a cage, ancient one.”

Ganondorf rose from where he sat, drawing himself up to his full height and moving to the bars to meet her as she returned.  “You’re trapped, Zelda.”

To her credit, Zelda didn’t flinch from his gaze.  He loomed, dwarfing her with his presence on the far side of the bars, and his eyes burned like coals.  “I heard you the first time.  Explain yourself.”

Ganondorf smiled, this time without humor or mirth.  “Fate has plans for us, O Wise One,” and the way he spat the words made his mockery clear.  “It always does and it always has.  It conspires against us, does everything in its power to force us to dance to its tune.  Every Zelda I’ve ever known might as well have been locked in a tower, for how much freedom she had to live her life.  Ten years old, twenty for the lucky ones, and then you face a murderous madman obsessed with conquest, only able to trust in a young man you’ve never met but whose face is burned into your soul.  Every Zelda I’ve ever known has been forced to use her mind for Fate’s design, unable to allow my madness to consume her world.  You aren’t allowed to be anything else.”  His eyes softened.  “And neither are we.  I, locked into conquest; I, locked into failure.  Fate ensured that I was born with nothing, that the envy and hunger might consume me and draw you both out.  And he…”  Ganondorf looked away.  “Perhaps it was a cruel jest on the part of the gods.  He cannot speak, so he must act.”  His eyes locked on to hers again.  “I was tired of all this.  I changed fate, I went off the course that had been set for us, and now I am free.”

Zelda held his gaze through the bars for a moment, then glanced around his cell.  “You’re right, Ganondorf.  You are mad.”

As she swept out of the dungeon, his laughter echoed behind her, following her up the stairs until the echoes had faded together into a mocking whisper.  She would spend the rest of the night trying to distract herself from the nagging feeling that she was the one behind the bars of that cell, and that Ganondorf was on the outside, looking in.

As the last stone block ground into place, Link heard the rumble of ancient machinery, one of the walls slid aside…and there it was.  Half-embedded in a cracked pedestal, illuminated by a shaft of light from the outside, and gleaming softly even where it should have cast a shadow.

The Master Sword.

It seemed too easy.

Link hesitated, then moved towards it.  As he came closer, he saw that there was a plaque on the front of the pedestal, faded gold worn away to reveal the bronze plate underneath.  Rather, there had been a plaque; whatever words it once bore had faded away, worn down by age if nothing else.

Half of the traps and tests in this citadel had been rubble, the masonry had been falling apart from neglect, and those devices that remained had only moved reluctantly, as though they’d had to shed a dozen layers of rust before they could function.  Nobody had been in this room for centuries.  How had nobody been worthy in all this time?

Was he really the reincarnation of this…ancient warrior?  He didn’t want to believe it.  He was Link–just Link, Link of Aveil Village, Link, who wanted nothing more than to go home, to Nabooru, and the Sages, and Karena the blacksmith, so he could complete his apprenticeship and make his father proud–

–His father, who would never return home if Zelda had her way…

Link reached for the sword.

As his hand entered the shaft of light, he felt a warmth spread up his arm, and he couldn’t help but remember the most perfect sunbeam he’d ever dozed off in.  He’d seen enough strange things on his journey that when the back of his hand started to glow he felt only resignation, not surprise, but then he began to pull the blade from the pedestal–

–and there was no friction, no resistance, except time seemed to slow, and though he could see that he was pulling it out inch by inch, he felt as if he was pulling for hours, and the sword went on and on until the blade had extended for miles, until he could swear that he was pulling on something that reached to the very core of the world, and–

And then the tip of the blade pulled free, and it was, once again, just a sword.

Hesitantly, Link raised the blade before him, letting the shaft of light illuminate it again.

Nothing.

There was no holy glow.  There was no invigorating rush of power.  There was no explosion of golden light, no manifestation of the Goddess, nothing.

It was just a sword.

Link’s heart crashed into his stomach.  Was this it?  Was the power gone from the Master Sword?  Had he simply failed to prove his worth?  What had he done wrong?

Nothing, whispered a voice in the back of his mind.  I was never the important part of the Hero’s quest.

Link started, lost his grip on the hilt, and the Master Sword fell from his fumbling fingers and clattered to the ground.