Thread: The 'Legend' of Zelda (SnowGlassRoses)

No. Not at all. You look upon me now... eyes that know who I am, or at the very least understand what's happening around you, the seven foot man spoke to her with a wickedly twisting sneer, and you would dare to stand?! The back of an armored palm swung, striking the young elf across the face, the desert man's hand large in proportion with the rest of his body. You little twat, he continued, grabbing the Princess' hair, and with a firm tug Ganondorf physically forced her weaker form to a knee. There came a brief moment of pause, brief, before he continued the abuse by pulling her hair back slightly more, forcing Zelda to look straight up at him as he gathered a mouthful of saliva, spitting down upon her beautifully flawless, porcelain face. I had plans for you cemented in my mind, up until this morning, he continued after a few seconds, glaring down at the spoiled little bitch, plans that involved you dead along with your parents. Oh, it was to be beautiful... Your body stripped of your clothes, all semblances of royalty and dignity with it, and you were to be displayed upon a pike, impaled, marched around the city for all to see. You see, you were to be a frightening pinnacle of my cruelty - your parents, these guards, this kingdom... you were to have been the period at the end of that very defining sentence. With a twist of his wrist Ganondorf flung the young Zelda aside, turning from her then, footsteps beginning a slow stride through the bodies littering the room. I had planned everything. The day we would attack. The manner in which we would assault each corridor of the castle, each back alley of the town, studying plans and layouts for months... And for years before that, two decades now, longer than you've likely even been alive, I have sacrificed everything to attain the power I now wield. The strength, dear girl, to avenge a very definite wrong. Your treatment of my people. His steps continued through the scattered bodies, stepping to the side of one and between two others, a long, gorgeous crimson and black cloak wafting in his wake. The Gerudo... Desert people. A few more steps brought him to a window, the same the Queen had been tossed from only a short while before. Ganondorf stared out as he spoke, surveying his malevolent troops as they patrolled an inner courtyard. Do you know why we're called that? Do you know why we live in the desert, little Zelda? ...Because you put us there! You. Your people. Hylians. The 'chosen' race! ...Bullshit! If might makes right, then I couldn't be any more correct in slaying your parents like the animals they were! Your ancestors banished my people to the desert generations ago in fear of our strength! They were greedy, lusting to control all. The only reason they didn't wipe my race out was because they couldn't we're a warrior people, you see. They may have overtaken us, outnumbered us, but the losses would have been too grave. And so they herded my ancestors up like animals and banished them to the desert. The few who have wandered back to Hyrule since then, trying to integrate theirselves with your people, have been few and far between. For me... I grew up in the desert, you see. A barren, desolate wasteland. His armored palms gripped into themselves tightly. A place where anger is nurtured just as naturally as anything else. It's funny... The first time I even set eyes upon the lush, gorgeous land of Hyrule was only a few years ago. I can see why your royal ancestors would want it all for themselves. But they're dead now, he continued, turning from the window and walking to the throne, past and through more bodies at every step, your parents included. As you would have been by now, had I not decided I wanted to enjoy this moment instead. ...Oh, don't get too secure, dear Princess. You're still very likely to die, depending on your actions right now. Ganondorf turned when he reached the throne, the cloak whirling with a great flourish to one side. He sat, leaning back, taking his time to get comfortable and grin a smug grin. Crawl to me. On your knees. On your hands. Strip yourself bare, little Zelda. Every shred of clothing. Every gold clasp in your hair, every anything - bare, completely. Then crawl to me, past your fallen guards, on this lovely red carpet where so many have paid their tribute to your family before. Crawl through Daddy's blood. Crawl to the spot where you've watched others kneel and pay tribute countless times before, and it's there I want you on your knees, looking up to me with sincere eyes - it's there I want to hear your apology, from your ancestors to mine! ...And if you can't be sincere? Or if you find this truth too hard for your prim and proper lifestyle to accept, or you simply won't lower yourself to such a thing? Then don't forget what I said before, about initially just planning to kill you, parading you around while skewered on a spear.