#I usually just beat the snot out of these blorbos

[skyloftian-nutcase]

A King's Admission (Imprisoning War)

The Festival of Colors was coming to an end.

A strange, ominous and somber energy filled Ganondorf’s mind. Perhaps it was because he was always sad when the beauty of the festival gave way to the dullness of what followed. He enjoyed pageantry, after all, and more than that, he loved the eventfulness of it – he was not one for monotonous things.

But perhaps this year, it was simply because he knew what was coming next.

The strike on Hyrule shouldn’t make him somber, though. He should be excited. He was excited, eager to finally obtain a sacred relic he’d dedicated his life to claiming.

But it meant this was coming to an end.

The Gerudo king watched Orik as the boy slept. After a little over a week in the desert with Hemisi, after being sick for several days, he looked a little different from the quiet, sweet, shy guard at the castle. The red face paint he wore was gone for now, mildly tanned face unblemished and browning with the exposure to the sun, placid in slumber. His light blonde hair, usually kept in a neat top knot, was spilling all over his face and the pillow. Ganondorf could faintly make out some stubble trying desperately to grow on innocent skin, a patchy effort fueled by raging hormones that only emphasized how young he was.

Honestly, Ganondorf was a little surprised he hadn’t seen it before. Orik had been dating Hemisi for well over a year now, and the entire time he’d thought the boy was at least sixteen, which was the Gerudo age of adulthood. After all, he’d been an independent soldier. Having just celebrated his twins’ fifteenth birthday yesterday, Ganondorf truly saw how old and young such an age was. It was unnerving.

And this one was fourteen.

There was a strange confliction of feelings in his heart. He himself had held a blade since adolescence, looked up to by his people, expected to rule and know what to do simply because he was a man. He’d stepped up and led them, of course – it was both his right and responsibility, and he’d wanted better for himself anyway. He’d planned on making the situation better for himself – why shouldn’t he claim what the world had to offer, when he was born with such privilege anyway? Why shouldn’t he deserve to have all the power when it was expected of him? Age had meant little to him back then, as a result. If one could fight, one could fight. Little children were obviously harmless, he’d assumed, until that one brat clad in green had proven otherwise.

But as a father, Ganondorf had found that his definition of children had evolved. He’d stepped up into the role an adult when he’d hit puberty, truly coming into his own when he was roughly sixteen. Now that he had two fifteen-year-olds, that prospect seemed insane. Perhaps it simply was a matter of circumstance – this desert was far different than the one he originated from (he refused to call that barren wasteland his own—this was his desert, his home). Perhaps it was that Ganondorf and Nabooru had ensured there was no reason for their children to have to step up as he had. He saw little reason in coddling them, teaching Merovar the art of manipulation for the last year, sending Hemisi on scouting missions since their first visit to Hyrule Castle so she could find weak points in their security… but even now, thinking of them getting involved in major fighting that might break out in the attempt to steal the Triforce made his stomach churn.

And this boy was no different in his musings.

Ganondorf had to admire him, honestly. He’d said he’d taken care of himself since he was twelve. It was an impressive feat… and explained why the boy was terrible at taking care of himself. It showed a fierce determination that he could appreciate, and it showed a frightening lack of development that he knew was supposed to be happening based on his twins.

It was no wonder he’d spent the first few months wondering if the kid even had feelings most days. He hadn’t trusted the docile, obedient façade until he’d realized that was simply how the boy actually was, and then discovered it was just what was expected of him when he had so much more fire to his heart and soul than that. This boy matched Hemisi’s chaotic energy in exploring and causing trouble, could fight her and even defeat her sometimes when no one else remotely close to their ages could, and had far more intelligence hidden behind those quiet eyes than he ever let on.

Blasted Sheikah. He could admire their dedication to their craft, their ability to fight, but goddesses they were asinine in their idiotic loyalty and dutybound culture. They were ruining this child. He wished he had more time before the strike, but they couldn’t just sit on the information they had – anything could change.

At the end of it all, Orik—Link—would have to choose. Ganondorf had a dark suspicion he knew what the boy would do, entrenched in his blind faith. But he still held out hope that once the dust settled, Hemisi would try to seek him out and perhaps he’d reciprocate once more. Only time would tell.

The thought of it made him want to distance himself from the child, honestly. But here he stood, watching as Orik stirred, scrunching his eyes and nose, sniffling and rubbing his face into the pillow a little in some kind of effort to wake up. Ganondorf didn’t bother moving, simply remaining in the shadows cast by the late morning light. He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want this chapter of his life to close quiet yet. The anticipation of everything coming together was starting to eat him alive, but just in this one, last quiet morning, he basked in the moment.

Orik stretched, rubbing his face sleepily, hand brushing against the stubble that had been trying to grow in his lack of grooming from the last few days. Ganondorf held back a chuckle at the boy’s disapproving grimace at the sensation, but his mirth faded into mild alarm when the teenager reached for a blade he’d placed on the nightstand. Sleepily, Orik ran his thumb across his cheek to trace the hair once more before getting ready to scrape a blade across his skin.

“What are you doing?” Ganondorf asked, both bewildered and concerned.

Link nearly jumped out of his skin, and the Gerudo hastily stepped forward to grab the boy’s wrist so he didn’t cut himself by accident. “L-Lord Ganondorf!”

Ganondorf yanked the knife out of the child’s hand, repeating his question. “What are you doing?”

Orik blinked, trying to center himself, eyes wide and innocent and startled. “I—I… sh-shaving?”

For Din’s sake. “Who taught you to shave like that?”

Orik shriveled a hair under his scrutiny, uncertainty etched in every fiber of his being. “…Me…?”

Ganondorf sighed heavily, dropping the boy’s wrist. He considered the teenager for a moment, exasperated, pointedly ignoring the thought in the back of his mind that whispered, I should just adopt this idiot already.

“Come on, child,” he ordered, walking for the door. Link obeyed silently, and Ganondorf guided him to the washroom, grabbing some supplies. He posted himself at a basin beside the one where he’d placed Link, and started to guide him through the process. As he instructed the boy to actually wash his face first, he asked, “You never explained why you lied to me.”

Orik froze, nearly inhaling the water in his hands as he hovered over it. “Sir?”

“Your name,” Ganondorf hummed, before smirking and slapping Link’s hands into his face, splashing the boy.

The teenager spluttered and coughed, and for a moment his red eyes twinkled with mischief and cheer as he was about to retaliate before he remembered who he was addressing. He sobered quickly, explaining, “I didn’t mean any deceit. I have two names.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about both, then?”

“I…” the boy shifted his weight uncertainly, looking anywhere but at Ganondorf. Distracting himself, he dipped his hands in the water basin once more, readying to wash his face again.

“Orik.” Ganondorf cut in sternly.

Orik bit his lip. “It was… suggested that I simply forego my Hylian name.”

“Who suggested it?”

His silence answered the question just fine. Ganondorf sighed. That girl… He backed down a little, asking calmly, “Is it custom for your people to have two names?”

“Not really,” Orik answered. “My parents wanted two different names for me.”

“But you go by Orik?”

“Yes, my lord. My mother wanted…” he paused, seeming to catch himself, and Ganondorf wondered why. He didn’t push initially, showing the boy some lotions to put on his face, lathering it up to help him shave.

As he watched Link carefuly and precisely move the blade, Ganondorf gently prompted, “What did your mother want?”

Orik halted his motions, eyes watching Ganondorf in the reflection of the mirror, and then he capitulated, saying, “She wanted me to be named Link. It’s… a special name. Sheikah respect it and find it… wrong to name a child that. It’s said to be imbued with the blessing of the goddesses, and many Hylians name their sons Link because of it. But the Sheikah consider it sacred. So my father named me Orik.”

Ganondorf watched him in silence, pondering the matter. He wondered if that was why that child from the forest was named Link as well. It gave him a strange feeling of relief, knowing that it was a common Hylian name, as if it further confirmed his reassurances that there was nothing wrong with this teenager. There would be no divine meddling – just bad breeding from the Sheikah.

“You introduced yourself as Link when you were sick and confused,” he noted. “I feel as if that would not be something automatic if you never use that name.”

The Sheikah boy sighed a little, glancing questioningly at Ganondorf as he had finished shaving. The Gerudo nodded towards the basin, indicating it was fine to rinse off. When he’d finished, Orik explained, “I like that name. I just can’t use it all that much. But I… prefer it over Orik. I have very little from my mother, even less connection to anything Hylian. I was raised in Kakariko, I was…”

When he trailed off, Ganondorf bit his tongue to give the boy time. Ganondorf was a man of action and saw little point in hesitation, but he knew some coaxing was needed for this boy sometimes. It was mildly frustrating, but he put up with it. His patience paid off when Link muttered, “I was raised entirely to be Sheikah. And I tried to be nothing but… and to be the best one so that…”

The silence became too stretched, and Ganondorf prompted, “So that what?”

Link jumped, started out of his musings and seeming to realize he’d said too much. “I—forgive me, I finished shaving, I don’t mean to waste your time.”

“You’re not remotely finished,” Ganondorf noted dully. “You still have to clean and moisturize your face.”

Link stared at him, baffled. “There’s more steps?”

The boy caught himself as soon as the words spilled out, and he bit his lips closed, making the Gerudo chuckle. Honestly. This boy needed to learn that it was okay to have an opinion. Nevertheless, the way the teenager watched his every move as if this were some life altering ritual was endearing. Ganondorf watched the boy massage some lotion in gently, even a little timidly over some tiny cuts, and the Gerudo rolled his eyes, stepping behind him and putting pressure over the boy’s hands, guiding them with his own to demonstrate how to properly do it.

“You’re not wasting my time,” he told him, letting his hands fall to the boy’s shoulders. “It’s… been a pleasure having you here, Link.”

The teenager was stiff under his palms, not seeming to know what to do with neither the gentle touch nor words. Instead of watching Ganondorf in the mirror, though, he glanced straight up to look at him, eyes sparkling with some sort of emotion, making him look so much smaller and younger than he was, and Ganondorf felt every fiber of his being scream to protect this child.

“You should stay,” he said abruptly, catching himself off guard. “Just a little while longer.”

Link’s eyes widened a little. “B-but—my lord, I only was granted leave to be here for the festival.”

“Hemisi and Merovar’s birthday celebrations extend such festivities,” Ganondorf lied. They did no such thing, honestly, but he’d already said the words and was kicking himself for it. Honestly, he just wanted the kid to stay here while they led their assault – it would spare Hemisi the pain of having to take him out of play (and consequently spare Ganondorf the headache and heartache of listening to her complain and be upset about it), and it would keep the boy out of the fighting altogether, perhaps even convince him to stay on Ganondorf’s side.

It wouldn’t matter either way – once he had the Triforce, the entire world would listen to him. Link would see reason soon enough. But if he could stay here, then it eliminated any possibility of a problem.

“Birthdays last multiple days?” Link asked, clearly completely confused.

“They… can.” This was just getting ridiculous. Redirecting, Ganondorf asked, “I never learned when yours was.”

“No one knows when mine is, my lord.”

Ganondorf blinked. Blinked again. “You… don’t know when your birthday is?”

“I do,” Link nodded, finally looking down again. “I mean no one else does.”

Wait a second. “When did you last celebrate your birthday?”

“When I came of age,” Link replied easily.

Oh. Well. That was ridiculous. Ganondorf didn’t care for all the traditions and silliness involved in birthdays, but recognizing one’s accomplishments over the past year was fairly important to him. Perhaps if the year had been an abysmal one there was no point in acknowledging it, but Link had plenty of reasons to look back on his last year alive on this world and be content with it.

Perhaps content wasn’t the right word. One shouldn’t simply be content with their life, they should always be seeking more. But Link had grown much in the last year. “When is your birthday, then?”

Link hesitated a moment before answering, “Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow?!

“You’re staying here,” he immediately ordered, grip tightening on the boy’s shoulders.

“M-my lord—”

“Don’t argue. You’re staying.”

Link was supposed to leave tomorrow. The assault team would leave a day after. If Link stayed for his birthday, he’d depart at the same time as the warriors and it would be obvious.

He’d have to delay the attack if he did this.

He was too close for such delays over trifling matters. And the boy wouldn’t listen anyway.

Link was frozen in place, stiff and debating the matter. Ganondorf knew the automatic response that would come, the polite apology and inability to take orders from the Gerudo over his Sheikah mandated duties.

The boy let out a nervous sigh. “I… suppose I can wait a day, if you wish it so.”

Wait… what?

“D-do you… do you really want me to stay?” Link asked quietly. The words were held in a steady voice that tried to imply this was simply seeking confirmation from a king and not that this was a child desperately asking if he was wanted.

Damn it.

He almost said no. Because he shouldn’t have asked in the first place. Months of planning could be wasted if he delayed the assault too long.

One… one day wasn’t too long.

I can’t lose sight of my goal.

This wasn’t losing sight, though, it was simply modifying. Besides, what if he led the group out of the desert tomorrow night while Link slept safely in the capital? They could get the Triforce before the boy ever reached Castle Town.

He knew that wasn’t feasible, though. There was no way Nabooru would be prepared. He was rendezvousing with her en route, after all. He couldn’t change the timing of anything without doing so in a drastic manner.

So he either had to accept that his team would leave the same day as the boy, potentially compromising the mission, or he could tell Link he needed to leave.

Ganondorf swallowed. Bit his tongue. Cursed again.

Then he pat the boy on the back, heading towards the hallway. “I gave you an order, child. I expect you to obey. You’re going to be part of this family someday, aren’t you?”

Link blushed, hugging himself, and Ganondorf didn’t bother listening to his stammering reply. His heart thrummed in his chest, agitated and relieved, furious and terrified and hopeful.

He couldn’t let that happen again, though. That sweet, foolish boy would not be what prevented him from achieving everything he wanted.

But… he would make sure the boy’s birthday was the best one he’d had yet.