Legend of Zelda 1. The Sparring Ring

**Chapter One**  
_The Sparring Ring_

_An older warrior in green buckled to his knees. Blood stained his tunic red, and his breathing became labored as he fell, clutching a gaping wound in his chest. Dust hung in the air heavily when the monsters astride massive boars rode off. They were whooping their victory like the animals they were. Above all that came the shrill cries of a distressed infant, and a sobbing wife and mother, who was wailing as loud as her infant child. "No... Don't leave me!"_

_The man, though in deep pain, pressed his dying lips to hers, so full of life. "Stay strong, my love. Raise our daughter to be a beautiful young woman. If she becomes a gentlewoman, I will be proud. If she becomes a warrior, I shall be equally proud." With those words, his eyelids closed, and he fell limp in his love's arms, breathing in his last ragged breath. The young widow raised her head to the sky, and let out a scream of anguish matched only in eerie harmony with the wails of their only infant child._

Ryn woke on the floor, gasping for breath, as if she'd been the one who'd died. Her legs were stuck in the air, propped up against the bed, and her head hurt a little. She stared at the ceiling, trying to shrug off the dream as best she could. This had become her morning schedule since all of her memory of being at the Temple of Time: every night, she'd be plagued by a different nightmare – this time, it happened to be the death of that _man_, again. She'd dreamed about him countless times for unknown reasons. Something about him just bothered her immensely, and she could never pinpoint _what bugged her_, which perturbed her more than the fact that he bothered her in the first place. She thought it might be the fact that he seemed to stalk her through her sleeping mind.

Stiffly, Ryn swung her legs from the side of the bed, and straightened. Everything was still in its proper place, except for her blankets, which were on the floor, the sheet on the left side of the bed, and the top comforter on the right side. _Huh, _she thought, _how in the hell did I manage that?_ Deciding she'd handle the mess later, and still annoyed by the dream, she decided to take out her pent up aggression on other hatchlings.

Well, she wasn't really a hatchling. But everyone at the temple referred to her as such because not many words referred to human children... or Hylian, in her case. In their throaty language, 'Hylian' was a very difficult word to say, and the word for 'human' was so uncommonly used, not many people knew it. Having been raised by Lizardmen, she only really knew how to interact with lizards without being looked at like a total moron. There was only one occasion in her life when she and another nest of hatchlings had ever encountered a human... and it wasn't very pleasant. He, even though he was a full grown man, had screamed like a little sissy girl, resulting in rowdy laughter from all the kids, and their adult chaperone ushering them back inside the temple with wide eyes.

Ryn was _far_ from being a _sissy_ _girl_. At this thought, she smirked a little, shouldered her sword, and began to hoof it to the sparring hall.

In the center arena, two teenage male lizards were having a hand-to-hand brawl. It was entertaining to watch as the pair clawed and scratched and bit at each other, but when one began to just claw at the other until his skin looked like raw ground meat, two adults had to pull them away from each other. It was savage, but these were sentient creatures reflecting on their lives before sentience. Everybody seemed happy, except the loser, who was hanging his head in shame. To lose, as a Lizardman, was to be as good as dead.

Lizardmen had a surprising sense of pride in their nobility. Losing was unacceptable. Lizalfos, the Lizardmen's feral counterparts, lacked this sense of nobility, and replaced it with a sickening sense of hubris. If they lost, though, they didn't have time to hang their heads in shame; they were dead when they lost. They had no sense of mercy, unlike normal Lizardmen. Normal lizards took pride in their race, and whenever someone encountered a Lizalfos, they would gladly spit on the feral representations of themselves.

Ryn jumped down into the ring and held up her hands. "Anyone want to spar with me?" She gave a self-satisfied grin, drawing her sword, and slowly turning about to see if anyone was going to join her. "Or is everyone a coward here except _him_?" She gestured vaguely to the winner of the last fight.

Resounding growls spread throughout the crowd, but only one slightly smaller Lizardman stepped up. His scales were a dark green mottled in places with a medium brown and his stomach's scales were a pale cream color. "I'll fight you," he said, shifting in his leather armor, but his dark eyes twinkling under his helm revealed a little hidden laugh within him. The guy looked nervous, but Ryn knew that he was ready to slam her to the floor.

She smiled. "Great." He approached, and Ryn drew her sword quickly. He drew his, and without another word, they began to spar.

Ryn and he were matched. No matter how hard Ryn tried to get into one of his openings, he'd dodge or block. No matter how hard he tried, she'd dodge or block. She got rash and began coming at him with new energy, letting out a mock battle cry, and jumping through the air in a jump attack. He blocked with his sword and a hand, and jumped over her head when she was preparing to rise as if it were a game of leapfrog. He pressed his sword to her neck. "You lose," he said dryly, but a little sympathetically, then released her.

The young warrior touched her hand to her neck, still, in the back of her consciousness, feeling the cool metal on her skin. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sal'nar, but my friends call me Sal."

She nodded, then, shamed, ran off away from him, her face bright as a berry.

– x –

"I lost," Ryn muttered, with her knees tucked up to her chest. She was in her bedroom once more, and although the tempting smells of roast meat were flooding in from the kitchens and dining halls, she wasn't going to eat, not yet.

_I lost_, she thought, as if it would make it clearer.

She wasn't a little girl. How come he was able to overpower her so easily? Why was he so clever? Was he trying to go easy on her? So many questions she had yet to ask, but there was only one way to find out if he had motive behind what he did, or what. And if she had to, she'd fight him. Pound him for answers.

Ryn smacked her fist to her palm, pinky side down, an evil grin crawling its way onto her face. _That's it, Ryn. Don't just sit there, actually do something about it, and quit your damn moping. _She jumped up off her bed, and began to hurry off to the dining halls, first for some dinner, then for some fun antagonizing Sal'nar.

Once inside the spacious hallway, Ryn could smell the tantalizing smells of roast cuckoo and venison, lambs, rabbit, and other forest creatures. One thing about Lizardmen: they were voracious eaters, and would very well eat something twice the size of their head by unhinging their jaws like a snake. In fact, their faces did resemble snakes, Ryn thought, but she'd never found it weird.

Likewise, Ryn was raised with a lizard's appetite. So she was _starving_, absolutely _ravenous_. She'd skipped breakfast and now she'd almost missed lunch, too. In line, she piled her plate with food, and sauntered directly over to Sal'nar. He was sitting amongst two older lizards who were whooping and patting his back as he quietly chomped at a wing of roast duck. Ryn recognized the other two as the nestmates Ral'sar and Tal'nac. She'd beaten them twice in the sparring ring single-handedly, but only because they were being too full of themselves and all talk. Tal'nac wasn't all that smart (all brawn, no brain); and Ral'sar was not the bravest, unless he felt that he was on top of you. So, the pair were able to adequately compensate for each others' lack of skills, but only when they weren't butting heads.

"Oh, look, it's the lizard that isn't really a lizard. How does it feel to be beat, Ryn?" said Ral'sar.

"Man, her name is hard to say. Why couldn't they have named her Ral'na, or something like that?" teased Tal'nac.

"Get your fat tailed asses out of here before I have to rip off the tails and eat them for an appetizer," she growled. "I'm hungry enough, and not in the mood for your crap." The pair, wide eyed, took a step back. "I need to talk to Sal'nar. Alone."

It didn't take much to get them running for their lives, or, in this case, tails. Leaning on the table and picking up a piece of rabbit, Ryn had caught Sal right where she wanted him. "Why did you... do what you did yesterday."

Sal'nar put down his wing of duck, and said, "Because I knew I had a chance. You were getting too full of yourself for your own good. I wouldn't have done it otherwise."

"You put up a good fight."

He grunted, not making eye contact, but staring at his food.

"What?"

"You're full of hubris! You don't even care about all those hatchlings you beat the crap out of! They all go back to their parents and cry. They lost, you know, because they were younger than us, and you didn't hold back. I didn't hold back because you needed a lesson. Everyone respects my decision. Do you even know how high you hold your nose in the air, because we're scaled beasts, and you have pointed ears? Even better, do you know how jealous most of us are because you are blessed by the Goddesses, and even if half the lizards here don't believe in the Golden Goddesses, they're still jealous because you're courageous to the point of stupidity, and that is the point I was trying to make to you. You're not better than us. You're worse. You're more full of yourself than a stuck up lizalfos."

Ryn blinked. There wasn't much she could say to that... there wasn't much she could say at all.

"You might as well just _get out_ or _change_, Ryn. That's all I have to say." With that, his scaled face took on a rather angry appearance as he rose to his feet, and began to leave.

"I'm not certain what good it'd do... but I'm sorry," Ryn said quietly.

Sal'nar glanced over his shoulder at her, and blinked. "It does good, if you really mean it, No-Tail Ryn."

A smile twinged at one side of her lips for a heartbeat. Sal's face broke into a toothy grin, and he clapped her on the back. "Friends?" he asked her simply.

"Friends," replied Ryn, smiling broadly, turning her blue-eyed gaze to the lizard that won. The lizard who dared humble her was her friend, now.

– x –

After that, Ryn and Sal did everything together. They studied in the Great Library together, pouring over books and scrolls that caught their interest with their heavily illuminated, gold-inlaid pages; and learned languages like Hylian and Twili and the language of the Oocca. They sang songs in boisterous voices and fought more, evenly-matched battles in the Sparring Ring, only now, they weren't competing to compete, but they were competing as friends. When one of them lost, they wouldn't feel ashamed – no, instead, the loser would rise up to their feet and say, "Let's try again." They played games and shared secrets.

Though the question of Ryn's history still hung over their heads, Sal'nar and Ryn had decided that they'd discover it together, no matter what.

And that was that.


	2. Rain and Bokoblins

**Chapter Two**

_Rain and Bokoblins_

"How many times must I say this? We found you in the spring, crying your poor little eyes out! Your father and I took you in, just as Mister Malo instructed us to." A young, heavily pregnant woman crouched with her daughter, doing laundry in a stream. Her knees were dirty, her sleeves pushed up and her hands all red from scrubbing. She shook off her hands and caressed her daughter's cheek. "Maybell... You, my dear, are a blessing sent by Farore to this family." The mother lifted up and kissed her daughter's hair. "My sweet, wise Maybell."

The mother looked very different from her daughter. She had dark brown hair and a dark complexion on a heart-shaped face with a shapely nose, kind blue eyes not uncommon in Hyrule, and rosy lips curved in a soft, loving smile. The daughter, on the other hand, looked frail and slight, with a pale skin color, her bright green eyes wearing a glint of age far beyond their years, and her hair a dirty shade of blond, pleated in a long braid that fell over one of her shoulders, tied off with a ribbon. It seemed as if she worried much more than necessary.

"But Mother," said the girl, apparently called Maybell, "That's not what I asked. Do you know what happened _before _all that?"

"May, you are the cleverest girl in all of Ordonna Provence! There are some things we do not know, darling, like your origins. We suspect you are from Karkariko, or Castle Town, but we cannot be certain. Now run along and play. We've finished our chores."

May began to wander the village, keeping her head down in thought. Until she bumped into a somewhat hard, warm... something. She looked up, realizing, _It's _him_... get away, Maybell, before he mauls you..._.

A tall farm boy wearing a snarling sneer on his face picked her up by the collar of her little dress. "Let me go!" she squealed, kicking and squirming, throwing blind punches and kicks at him.

"Well, well," he snickered to his friends, "We caught ourselves a little bunny rabbit. Say hello to Pixie Dust, boys."

"Todd Carter, you put me down!" commanded May with a frown.

A boy with light blond hair and a smirk on his face swatted his wooden sword back and forth. "Just what'll you do, Maybell Lee?"

"Stay out of this, Colin!" Laughter came rumbling out of all of the rest of the boys.

"What, will Walt come and help you? I doubt it. We let out a goat, and he has to bring it in."

"You _public menace_! You eat Walt's goat's cheese all the time, drink their milk, and eat them for dinner! I'll tell him, and when he gives your parents the next harvest, _none of it will go to you_."

"Is that a threat, Tinker Bell? Not a great one."

Todd said, "You know what, my arm's gettin' sore." He tossed May to the ground. "Have at 'er, boys."

May curled up in a ball. _Walt... find me and help... Why doesn't someone just get _rid_ of these boys? No __one seems to like them..._ The boys kicked dirt at her and such, until a booming voice called out, "Hey! Leave her alone." There was scuffling on the ground, and one of the boys cried out. May opened her eyes a little peep, and she heard her savior whisper in his ear, "If you so much as lay a finger on her, I'll personally see to your parents making you work in the fields _for an entire season._" There were hasty nods, and all four of them ran off.

May climbed to her feet, blushing a little. "Thank you, Walt." May's idol was essentially Walt and no one else. He was the goatherd, so his tall frame was laced with sinew and muscle, but he had manners, and wouldn't hurt anyone, unless they were rude to you, in which case, he dealt out due verbal threats that he wasn't afraid to fill out. Walt felt that honest work was what a real man did, and honest work made a man whole. She really liked this sentiment, and believed that his philosophy could apply to ladies as well. To May, he knew seemingly everything about animals large and small. He'd always be there when a woman or an animal was giving birth, and he'd taught May how to ride.

Like many young children in Ordon, she'd had her fill of pecking from the cuckoos, hisses from the village cats, kicks and close calls with goats. Before May knew it, she'd also taken her first steps on her horse, Greggy, led by Walt. Greggy was a little chubby, stout pony with shaggy fur that gave him the likeness of an overgrown mop. Walt helped her up every time she'd fall of Greggy, nursed her every wound, and showed her the world: everything from the mystical sparkling butterflies to goats and the clouds in the sky. The pair were practically linked at the hip. May loved him more than anything in the world, even though he was a good four years older than her. He didn't know it, but she'd sometimes get all fluttery when they'd do things together.

Walt and Maybell walked back to the large paddock. "Oi, May, you shouldn't git yerself into trouble so much. Ain't good," Walt told her as they reached their horses.

"I know, I know..." May said sheepishly. She drew out her handkerchief, in which she held a piece of pumpkin as a treat for Greggy. Her pony stuck his neck out and began lipping at the sweet, fleshy treat, then crunched it up in an instant. May patted his head with a little smile. "Walt... I have a question."

Walt leaned up against his tall bay mare. She was a stocky thing with a light coat, socks, and darker points. Her name was Ellie, and she had the sweetest disposition in the entire world with a motherly instinct to boot. "Shoot, May. I don't suppose it's about Todd and Colin an' the likes of them, is it?"

"Well... not exactly." She shrugged, shifted on her feet, and mounted Greggy bareback. "It's more about where I come from. Why do I live here and not in Karkariko?"

Walt mounted Ellie, and shrugged. "Good question. I suppose either your parents couldn't care for you or were killed and you were brought here in shock. That's probably the reason you can't remember. You were there, right? You might have been too young to remember."

May shook her head. "I was walking and talking by that time. I couldn't have been raised by monkeys or the lizardmen, could I?"

Walt laughed. "You're too clever for your own good."

And May sometimes agreed with that, because no one could help her with this matter better than herself.

– x –

Later that evening, a sleepy breeze swept through Ordon, stirring the leaves in the trees and spoke of the coming storm. Maybell leaned at her window. While this rain was good for the pumpkins, wheat, and apples, May hated it. Most would relax and reminisce about their childhoods while enjoying a day off, but May had nothing to reminisce about. Her first memory was in Ordonna's spring, and was _not_ one she'd like to remember. As the rain began to patter in through her open window, she let out a deep sigh. She knew she was Maybell. She knew that Sara, the girl that took care of everyone when they were sick, had told her that she must have had a past so horrid, she didn't want to remember. But her foster mother told her the reason she forgot so much, and this is the reason that she she believed most: The birth mark on her hand, in the shape of the holy Triforce, wasn't really a birthmark at all, instead, she was chosen at birth for a higher cause, and she had to overcome her forgetfulness to achieve it.

That's what May tried every day – remembering the little things from yesterday made today count, too – the mindset that improvements can be made every day.

The stench of wet fur alerted her nose. Outside, in the rain, stood several roughly clad moblins and bokoblins. With a small gasp, she drew the shutters and peeked out through the slats. Through them, she could see the Gerudo flag streaming from one of their pikes held aloft in the air: red cloth with gold tassels and a symbol like a face with two wide eyes and a mask. It was perfectly symmetrical, so the mask also functioned on the top as hair, May thought. She'd read story books with Gerudo in them when she was younger. They had been evil for a long time a long time ago. For this reason, the story books usually had Gerudo villains.

Maybell could hear her mother's complaints from the living room as she wandered in. "Eliot, you can't go! It's dangerous! They'll kill you!"

"I know, but I have to. I have to protect the village. Grandfather taught me how to wield a sword. I should be fine."

"Poppa... be careful," May whispered, leaning in the doorway. She spoke the words her mother wouldn't. "I don't want to lose you."

Like a man going off to war, the farmer shouldered the family's sword, kissed his wife and ruffled his daughter's hair, then turned to the door. "Squirt, don't get into too much trouble. Look out for your mom for me," he said to May with a twinkle in his eye as he left.

May rushed to her window in her bedroom again to watch the fight. The mechanics behind each movement always intrigued her, but she didn't like to fight. It was probably how the boys treated her that made her feel that way, or, possibly, something else. Also, she knew her poppa. He won every fight.

Her window was just partially open so she could see clearly. A sharp crack of lightning followed by a low rumble that filled the sky with thunder split the evening. The rain began to slam harder against the road, turning it into a slick mud.

A bokoblin on watch aimed his bow. Arrow flaming, even in the rain... it had been lit with oil. And it was pointing at the roof of her family's house...

_Thp._

Flames lapped hungrily at the thatched roof, eating it up in a blaze, eating at everything it could. Crying out, May darted into the living room. "_Mother!_"

Her mom was already on her feet. "May, get out of here."

"Only with you, Momma." May grabbed her mother's hand, tugging her along. When they reached the porch, she urged, "Let's go to Mister Malo's house. He's nice and not far. I'll make a diversion so you can go. I'll be right there after you.

"May, you're growing up..." Her mom caressed her cheek, smiling faintly at her daughter. "I'm nothing but proud of you."

May smiled back, then skipped off. "Yoo-hoo!" she called out. "Pig butts! Over here! Oh, wait, I forgot, that's what your faces looked like. Sorry!"

That got the monsters' attention. The moblin with the Gerudo flag on his pike grinned and let out a throaty bellow of "Hwoh!"

Several bokoblins charged at her, brandishing clubs and cleavers.

"Maybell! NO!" her father ran for her, but was knocked off his feet by a moblin and didn't get back up.

"Daddy!" she cried, and that was the last word she said before all she heard were her own screams, and the thunder. Her vision went to black as pain rippled through her body. _I don't want to remember..._ was her last thought as she was dragged along the ground. _I don't want to remember._


	3. Through Shaded Eyes

**Chapter 3**

_Through Shaded Eyes_

"_This child is destined for better than this. He bears the mark of the gods," said a dark-faced Gerudo, sounding gruff. Her hair was a natural fiery orange, and her eyes were laden with makeup. Her clothing told that she was of rich stature in the Gerudo government, but even so, her face was covered below her eyes. "He will come with us, human or not. After all, it is fire in his eyes."_

_The child was being held close to his mother's bosom, wrapped in a earthen-colored blanket. His mother was dressed simply in a tattered dress, and her face was ashen and pale."No... his is my only son! He is my little Aren... the only thing I have left of my slain husband."_

"Destiny does not give to beggars. His name will be Treyhern, and he will rule over all, housing the soul of the great Lord Gannondorf." The Gerudo grabbed the child, who began to wail and flail his arms. She pulled the swaddling up over his face, and began to ride off, away.

_The scene changed. The child lay on an alter, and an old, hook-nosed Gerudo sat, chanting in front of it. The hall was cool and dim with gentle moonlight filtering in through the windows. "My lord, you shall rise once more, reborn." A smile crossed her withered face as a dark glow emanated from the boy. _

_A deep voice came before the light dissipated. "I thank you, Belara. I will watch this world burn at my feet once more."_

Treyhern awoke on the floor in his chamber, tangled in his linen sheets. It was not a dream he had just experienced, it was a memory so faint in his mind, he could barely recall it. With a sigh, he rubbed his temples. Whenever he tried to think about these things, the headaches would set in, and then the voice would take hold. And that was the last thing he wanted. Untangling himself, he rose and shook himself.

Although he did like the Gerudo – after all, the papered him like a king – he horribly disliked their motives behind what they did. They were trying to make him worship darkness, but he was Hylian, and he didn't want to. Trey grabbed some fresh clothing and went to wash himself of his troubles and comb his hair before the morning meal.

Descending the steps, Trey was greeted by several Gerudo who all did submissive dips as they passed. When he took his seat, his adopted sister, Eukara, smiled at him. He pretended not to noticed, and silently sat at his cushioned seat. "Brother," she said, worried. "Something horrid plagues your thoughts. Why aren't you at peace, dearest Treyhern?"

He frowned down at the tablecloth. "Only the usual, Eukara. You should know that."

"I know, it's just... you seem to be having your... _moods_... more and more. Are the headaches worsening? The nightmares?"

"Both. Every morning." A serving girl placed a plate of steaming biscuits and fresh dates on the table. Trey didn't touch the food, but Eukara reached for it, and loaded her plate. "His voice is taking more weight in my decisions. I don't like it."

A middle-aged Gerudo wearing an elaborate robe of white linen and gold thread with many piercings in her ears, heavy makeup on her face, and twin sabres across her back glided across the room, chiding, "Fat never bows to those who do not accept their destinies. The time will come, Treyhern, and you and our Lord will fully become one. Another meditation may help you."

Trey stood, slapping his hands on the table. "Gannondorf's morals are dark and grim. I am not that man, and for the sake of the goddesses, I pray that we never become one. Why worship a man that has long since been buried deep in the earth and reduced to only bone and dust?"

Eukara stood too. "Treyhern! How could you! He gave us a time in the spotlight next to those who actually have matron goddesses."

A furrow made its way into his brow.

"Mother, tell Trey that he shouldn't disobey his elders."

Their mother was silent, but a stabbing pain was felt in Trey's head, very suddenly, as if someone had punched him in the head. He cried out, falling to his knees.

"_Treyhern..._" came the smooth, low voice, echoing in his mind, "_you know better than to fight it... Allow me to take the reins. You know your soul means nothing to them..._"

"No..." muttered Trey out loud. "Don't speak to me like... _augh!_" Trey pressed his forehead to the floor, tears of anguish welling up in his eyes. He closed them tight.

"_Boy, you know you are weaker then I, and always will be... Just give in._"

"Nev... _agh!_" Trey pressed his hands to his temples, thinking, _Please, Gannondorf... stop..._

Then, darkness welled up and consumed his soul.

– x –

Trey could still see. Well, it wasn't really him seeing – it was more like he was looking through the eye holes of a massive suit of armor, being tugged and jerked around like a puppet, and yet he could still feel things like the touch of Eukara's hand, or the rough chill of the stones below him, if he was inclined to. For the most part, his soul was completely detached from his body, sometimes sensing, sometimes resting, other times applying a slight guilty conscience. It was a practice that he'd mastered over all his years: his logic was that if Gannondorf could do it, he could too.

Mostly, Trey decided to listen.

Eukara looked Gannondorf in the eyes. "Are you alright, my brother? Was it another one of your _moments_?"

Calmly, Ganon shook his head. "No, Eukara. Do not worry."

Eukara nodded. "Okay. Good," she said crisply. The young Gerudo swept her hand across his cheek, her touch making Ganon cringe. "You aren't yourself, still... There's an unnatural fire in your eyes."

At this, Ganon chuckled. "Yes, there is, Eukara. I think I've mastered his soul. His power and my intuition... We will rule as gods."

A paler girl ran up, dipping into a series of respectful, hastened bows. "We've captured the girl, Master." At this, Trey was a little stunned. _Was I having a spell, then?_

Ganon gave a curt nod, following the pale girl down the street to their holding cells. Crumpled in the cell was a little girl not yet in her teens, laying crumpled in the corner. "Good. Leave her there until we find the last one. The Triforce must be completed.

The girl in the cell let out a small shuddering sigh.

"But who is this, asked the Dark Lord, gesturing to a boy in his late teens who listlessly lay in the opposite corner. Trey couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He seemed just as out of place as Trey did – the guy was wrapped in the colorful, if a bit tattered, robes of a merchant. By the symbols on his robes, he was from the steppe in the south, and herded cattle and sheep. That particular tribe was known for their brightly colored dyed wools.

"He got in our way, Master. I do hope you don't mind."

Ganon laughed. "I do not mind at all."

She smiled and gave several more bows. "Thank you, Master."

"_Give my body back. I command you, Dark Lord. Stand down, or I'll kill you,_" Trey commanded in Gannondorf's head.

"_You'd make yourself a vegetable, or commit suicide just to quell me? I think not. You'd only end up failing. You aren't fit to save Hyrule, boy. You never have._"

"_Yet you still give me power. How ironic this world is. You are but a spirit, idiot. How could you hurt me past making me believe that I am feeling pain? You can't. I will kill you with my mental prowess. I will prevail._"

Ganon cried out this time, clutching his head. "No! I WON'T HAVE IT!"

"_Bow before me, you demon spawn!_"

"I WON'T HAVE... _AUG!_" Trey applied as much mental pressure he could muster.

Ten Gerudo rushed up to him. One, clothed in a robe tossed over one shoulder and puffy pants gathered at her waist and ankles, rushed to him. Her hair and face was covered with a veil. From the folds of her robes, she drew out a vial of yellowish, sparkling liquid as others punned him down. "Relax, Treyhern, my lord," she murmured to him, gently stroking his cheek. "Drink."

Gannondorf drank, and Trey could feel his body fall limp and his consciousness dull. The group picked him up and carried him to his chambers, where they lay him in his own bed. Trey regained his consciousness there. They had sedated him with the oil found from a certain cactus that, when given in small doses, could help mental maladies like the one he had. Only this never helped him – it made things worse, especially when he was about to lose a fight with Ganon.

The nurse dabbed a cloth to his head to keep him cool. When he managed to peel his eyes open, everyone looked delighted. One person sent for Eukara and their mother.

Their mother entered the room, looking nothing but cross. She smacked Try, grasping his cheek. "_WHAT _have I told you of weakness?"

"Never show its ugly face to others, especially to those you do not know. But I was in pain, Mother!"

"Do you want to know what real pain is, my son?" she inquired furiously.

He shook his head. "Mother... I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "We have to solve this problem. Meet your family at the spire tomorrow at sundown. We will get you the proper means to fill the gap between you and Gannondorf once and for all."

The nurse grasped his mother's arm. "What if he cannot make the trip?"

"Give him a steed and a hell of a lot of his medicine. If he can't, I disown him as my child. Weakness is not something I will readily accept in my family. Thank you for your concern," she spat, leaving the room.

The nurse gave a hurried bow and scampered off.

Eukara got situated on Trey's bed beside him, loosely looping her arms around his neck. "Listen to me, big brother. I love you without end. If you must, head to the oasis. I will be there. We can run away together."

"I don't know, Eukara..."

"You need a doctor that deals in the mind."

"I know that. They – the ones in the mainland, I mean – don't take kindly to Gerudo. You'd have to mask yourself."

"And you?"

"I was planning on leaving by myself. If you'd get hurt... I'd kill myself. I love you too much."

Eukara snuggled up closer to him and gave him a hug. "Don't think I won't miss you."

"I won't. I know you too well." He kissed her forehead. "Tomorrow, Eukara. I'll miss you equally, little sister. I learned from you."

"What?"

"Even under pressures, act as a gentleman or woman. When you are hurt, bear your wounds with a humble dignity, and when someone tries to soil it, hold up your head and butt through their armies, like they are paper and you are wind. Show only strength. That is the Gerudo way, the way we stepped away from when Gannondorf was born."

"That it is," she replied with a faint smile, stroking his cheek. Then, she left him to rest in a solemn silence.


	4. Kar'lac's Gift

**_A/N: Sorry for the short chapter... this is just the intro to longer Ryn chapters in the future._  
**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

_Kar'lac's Gift_

"Look at this, Sal! It's a picture of the Hero!" Ryn, beaming, pointed to a picture in a huge leather-bound book. "See!"

"Oh, wow!" Sal laughed in a sharp _ruk, ruk, ruks_. "He looks a little like you!"

"Hey... you're right!" With a laugh of her own, she made a pose like the Hero in the picture: one hand up in the air as if she were brandishing a sword, and her head held high.

"It says: '_The Hero Chosen by the Goddesses, as we know him, was raised in Ordon as a humble farmhand. When the Twilight covered the land, he found himself troubling over his lost friends from the village, and it was through the thought of them that allowed him to save Hyrule from falling under the Usurper King's grasp,'_" Sal read.

"We know all that," Ryn remarked with a yawn. "Why don't you tell me something we don't know."

"'_It is said that after the Twilight was under control, the Hero reunited with an old friend from Ordon by the name of Ilia. According to records, the pair got married in the spring two years after, and three years after their marriage, had a daughter. It is unknown what happened to their baby, but the Hero perished only months after their child's birth.'_"

Ryn blinked, suddenly interested. "Does it say anything else?"

Sal shook his head. "No... it only goes on to talk about the Twilight Realm and the Dark Interlopers and theories on Twili. It does say, though, that the Hero could have been a lie to begin with, or maybe he went to live with his Twili companion without telling anyone. They don't know where his body was buried."

"Sounds fishy to me."

Sal'nar and Ryn had been searching every record of everything in search of Ryn's parents. No such luck, though, had been given to them. They even opened up the possibility that since she was given to the Temple, that maybe she was a sage's daughter, or maybe even the daughter of two sages, and not supposed to exist in the first place.

An old withered lizard wearing a royal looking cape and a set of leather armor entered the room. "Ryn, I have to talk to you."

The lizard's name was Kar'lac. He was the oldest Lizardman in the Temple of Time, and therefore the guardian of them all, seeming almost like a king or a leader. He was neither of those things, nor was he equal to all of them. It is relatively indescribable the relationship he had with the inhabitants of the Temple.

"Yes, sir," said Ryn, rising to her feet and following Kar'lac into the corridor outside. "What is it?"

"There is something I need to give to you." He reached into his bag and pulled out a medallion that he pushed into her hands without even asking whether she wanted it or not.

"Sir?" she asked him. "What is this?" The face of it was almost like a mirror, traced with intricate webbing symbols across it. On its back, it was mostly plain, and had stone engravings on it.

"Your only inheritance. I suppose you could call it a family heirloom."

"What is it?"

"That," he said, "I can't say precisely, but enjoy it while it lasts, little one." The Guardian of the Temple gave her a pat on the back and nudged her back into the library.

"What was that all about?" asked Sal, looking bewildered as she did.

"Nothing, really. He just gave me this." Ryn tossed the medallion onto the books. "Let's find this thing."

– – t h e – – ' s – – – –

It took months, but they finally found it. Tucked in a nook of a tome covering the last few moments of the Twilight, when Midna, the rightful queen of the Twili, destroyed the mirror of twilight. The mirror that Link (as that was the Hero's name) and Midna had worked so hard to re-assemble had shattered. No more links between the Twilight realm and the light of Hyrule were said to exist... except this. The book talked about a possibility that if a shard were to be recovered, that its power would equal that of the mirror itself and open up the gate. Sal and Ryn reasoned that if her parents had left her this shard, that it was meant for her to go to the Twilight realm.

After discovering this, Ryn and Sal'nar went directly to Kar'lac.

"Kar'loc, sir?" asked Ryn as the pair entered his study. "We need to talk. I have to leave."

_Ruk, ruk, ruk, ruks _emitted from Kar'lac. "Don't get too ahead of yourself, little one."

Ryn, getting a little angry, leaned on his desk. "Kar'lac, _I have to leave_. Otherwise, how will I ever find out who I am? Do you even know?" This made him frown, and Ryn knew that she'd made a point. "I have to. I need to go on a journey of self-discovery."

"I want to go with her," said Sal. "If it would make things more acceptable for you, sir."

A singular, throaty _humph_was said by the old lizard. "Not yet. You are both but hatchlings. Learn more language, culture, and fighting techniques before you see me about this again. Outside the Temple, things happen quicker, and more dangerously. Don't you dare even think about stepping out of the Temple before your time. You will learn, and be called back to me when you are fully ready to go on this journey of self-discovery."

Feeling dejected, both of them hung their heads and walked out into the hall.

"Sal..." said Ryn, still frowning at the stones.

"What?"

"How's about we do what he says for once, only work harder than he expects us to? He'll have to send us out faster, that way."

A smile toyed at Sal's lips. He approved, obviously.

– – t h e – – ' s – – – –

_Left, right... _"Hi-yah!" Ryn and Sal were fighting again in the sparring hall. Sal was panting, and so was Ryn, only she wasn't panting to get rid of extra heat, she was panting to regain her breath. She was sweaty and smelly and generally undesirable, but the friends didn't mind how the other stank. They were training.

Sal parried Ryn's blow, and Ryn did a back flip away from him, readying herself for another strike. She began jumping around him and rolling, until she jumped up and slashed at his armored back. It was a trick taught by the elder Dynalfos, who weren't like Lizalfos, but they were very loyal and the highest rank in their society, right below the Guardian. Apparently, they learned the technique when they had fought the Hero so many years ago to protect their treasure.

Sal stumbled forward, growling, "That's not fair!"

"It is too," retorted Ryn. "Get back up and let's fight some more. Then, we're going to the library."

He seemed to almost pout. "But I don't want to! I'm tired, Ryn. Please let me take a break."

"No!" snapped Ryn. "I want out of this temple more than anything in the world, and if you won't help me, then fine. Be that way." She sulked off, going to practice with some other boys in the sparring ring.

* * *

_**A/N: Yup, me again. Just saying that in the next chapter, Ryn and Sal are back together. They're always going to be friends. Don't worry about them. Worry about May and Trey, lol. R & R, please and thanks! ~Kitty**_


	5. Alone Again

**Chapter Five**

_Alone Again_

When May woke, her tongue felt parched and swollen, but that wasn't her main concern. Her main, utmost concern was that of her memory. She couldn't seem to remember _anything, _except the knowledge that she was called Maybell, but she liked being called May; she had a mum and a dad, but barely had even a fuzzy knowledge of who they were. Doctors? Merchants? _Oh, my goodness, I _do_ hope they do _something_ with their lives... _

There was a rusted tin cup on the floor full of something that resembled water. After careful analysis, she determined that her captors were at least trying to keep her alive for the time being, and it was indeed water. She drank it quickly, and let out a sigh. It helped a little, but she needed a whole lot more than that to fully rehydrate.

With a clearer head, May realized her cell overlooked a market and contained a stool, a table, and a bunk bed, all worn, ragged, and covered in a thin sheen of dust that made her feel itchy just thinking about it. A brown mouse scrabbled along the outside of the wall in a streak of movement, and a spiderweb laced through the top corners of the cell. In one corner of the cell, a bright-colored heap of cloth, similarly covered in dust, caught her eye. Watching carefully, she noticed that it wasn't her cell anymore – it was theirs. There was someone sleeping under it, using it like a blanket.

Slowly, her sandaled feet making soft crunches on the dirt floor, she edged towards her cellmate. "Hello?" she questioned.

A muffled moan emitted from the heap. Whatever – whoever – it was, it was alive.

May quickened her pace, and uncovered her cellmate, finding him to be a young boy, perhaps a little older than she was, dressed in richly colored clothes. He had light hair and dark skin, and light blue eyes that stood out like bright, shining stars, even if they were clouded with pain. "You alright?" she asked, tapping his cheek.

He let out a pained, staccato sigh. "I'll live, little girl. Don't mind me."

"No, I will mind." She lay her hand on his forehead. "You're burning with fever!" May took his hand in hers, and a symbol on the back of it glowed. _What's going on? _was her last faint thought before she passed out cold.

– x –

"Lie still, little girl."

May opened her eyes.

It was dark out, and the boy in her cell had shifted her onto the bottom bunk. He had taken the stool to use as a table, on which he placed the tray of rations.

"What...? Where...?" she croaked.

He flashed a smile. "I knew you'd have questions. Settle down and I'll tell you what happened. There was a flash of light, I was all better, and you were out like a light, no better off than I had been. Here, have a drink." Her cellmate held the cup to her lips, she drank heavily. The water on her tongue was cool and sweet, and if it weren't for him taking it away, she would have drank the whole cup. "I'm Draden," he told her.

"What's your story?" May managed.

"Pretty normal. I was raised a nomad in the southeastern desert steppe. We herded sheep and cattle, but we're really fond of trinkets. Do anything for them. They sent me in hopes I'd make myself scarce, but _they,_" – Here, he broke off, jabbing his thumb out at the Gerudo outside, –"_they _captured me. Couldn't even trade a hide on my back for food."

"Food? I thought you said you were a sheppard."

"I was, but I couldn't take meat from our own herds. They're too precious. We sell our cattle to Lon Lon, who pay big money for them. We use that money to pay for another tribe's wares. They are the merchants. Led by a man named Beedle... So, what's your story, little girl?"

Maybell hesitated. "All I know is that my name is May and something terribly odd is going on."

Draden propped her up, using his arm to hold her steady, then balanced the tray on one knee, looking very precarious, as if he may drop everything at any point in time. But he managed, and offered May a piece of bread. "Eat, May. You need your strength." In the nomad's eyes was a humored twinkle, as if he had a plan.

May liked plans. Especially when they led to her getting out of this rat hole, and learning her past. When she was done with her scant meal, Draden commanded her to rest, which she did greatfully. It wasn't long before her lucid mind was taken over by the haze of dreams.

_Light spread across a huge field, but something told May that something wasn't right. It was supposed to be Hyrule Field (she knew that much), but an impenetrable darkness shrouded it in patches like a shirt eaten by moths. As she walked to it, one hill illuminated itself from the shadow. Upon its crest sat a fair-skinned maiden, her hands resting delicately on a golden harp. A crown rested above her high forehead, on top of her silvery blue hair, inlaid with a single triangle and carved into swooping waves of water that looked almost, in a surreal sense, lifelike. Her face seemed wizened but not old, benevolent, but not necessarily kind. The maiden was clothed in a beautifully flowing sleeveless blue dress tied with a loose sash around her waist and a shawl made of iridescent material tossed over her shoulders. From her came a soft, sweet scent of lavender and daffodils mixed with the distinct scent of the sea. "Maybell..." she said, her voice resonating in all parts of May's being. "Come here, my vessel."_

_Slightly disturbed by the maiden's phrasing of the sentence, Maybell took a few cautious steps up the hill, and settled down beside the maiden. "Who are you? What do you want?"_

_The maiden let out a soft, melodious laugh. "I am only the wind and the rain, the wisdom that governs us all, the goddess of Time and the goddess of the sea." May blinked. After all, what could she say? She was face to face with a goddess, even if she was _only dreaming _it._

"Come, sing with me, little vessel, a song that will teach you of my intent." With that, the Goddess began to sing, plucking the strings of her harp with long fingers.

"_Great lakes and grand trees,  
the songs of the goddesses could be heard by their people._

_In twilight, in darkness,  
the demons can only fear them.  
When dawn comes, when light touches our faces,  
the darkness can only be heard once more before its dying breath.  
Sing praise to the heroes. Sing praise to the goddesses.  
Sing praise to the light of this new summer morn. _

_In a scholarly chapel, a wise woman sings.  
Of the great lakes and grand trees on this new summer's morn.  
Ah, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.  
In a goddess's temple, these ancient words sing.  
Of hope, of praise, of wishing benevolence._

_In twilight, in darkness,  
the demons can only fear them.  
When dawn comes, when light touches our faces,  
the darkness can only be heard once more before its dying breath.  
Sing praise to the heroes. Sing praise to the goddesses.  
Sing praise to the light of this new summer morn. _

_On the horizon, a darkness looms, twisting its evil around evil's fingers.  
Grand lakes and grand trees will be nevermore.  
Ah, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.  
The hero, slain, his legends forgotten,  
will the light ever pass o'er this hill once more?_

_In twilight, in darkness,  
the demons can only fear them.  
When dawn comes, when light touches our faces,  
the darkness can only be heard once more before its dying breath.  
Sing praise to the heroes. Sing praise to the goddesses.  
Sing praise to the light of this new summer morn. _

_New heroes must rise, from the corners of Hyrule  
each touched by the hearts of the Goddess's kin.  
Ah, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.  
Unite the hearts and make the land pure,  
the light shall return, and pass o'er this sacred land once more._

_In twilight, in darkness,  
the demons can only fear them.  
When dawn comes, when light touches our faces,  
the darkness can only be heard once more before its dying breath.  
Sing praise to the heroes. Sing praise to the goddesses.  
Sing praise to the light of this new summer morn."_

_Around halfway through the song, May found herself singing along, their two voices joining in a sweet, eerie harmony. If the ocean and time could sing together, that is what their song would have sounded like – their voices mixing in an ebbing, flowing pattern, at times rough, but all around very beautiful. _

_May smiled. "That was pretty."_

_The Goddess inclined her head. "You did the most of it. I cannot have chosen a better young lady to hold my piece."_

_"Piece of what?"_

_"All will come in due time, Maybell. Take this song with you, though. Remember it, pause, and sing it when you lose your faith."_

_"Thank you, Miss."_

"_Nayru," corrected the Goddess. "Call me Nayru, for that is who I am."_

May woke up, wonder-struck. She was the holder of the Triforce – she was almost certain of it! Draden was already at her bedside with her food. "I spoke with Nayru in my dreams!" she exclaimed.

Draden offered her some water, which she took gratefully. "Tell me; what did she say?"

There was the jangling of keys before May could say anything.

"Nevermind what I said... Tell me later... if we survive. Be polite to the guard, and she won't kill you."

May nodded, rose to her feet, and allowed a shudder before the door swung open, and her hands were tied firmly behind her back. The little girl cast one last look at Draden, then kept moving forward.

* * *

_**A/N: Woah, you have no idea how proud I am of myself! This is the longest (chapter-wise, at least) fanfic I've ever written! Aren't you proud! R & R, please! ~Kitty  
**_


	6. The Demon Sword

**Chapter Six**

_The Demon Sword_

Curiosity won over in the end.

Trey had wondered, with some twisted part of his mind, what his mother had in store for him. He wanted Eukara to be safe and to know that she would be safe. He wouldn't run away with her. Not ever. Not in a million lifetimes, not until Hylians accepted Gerudo. Even then, he might not think highly of the idea. Then, might be different. _Now is now,_ he thought to himself. _Fate is fate. I can't change it._

His nurse gave him a saddled and bridled white charger, restlessly stamping and chewing at the bit. The horse's name was Darnien. Unlike the Gerudo themselves, the Gerudo's horses _did_ actually have males mixed in. Some days, in his childhood, Trey had wished that he were a horse so he could have some actual _male_ friends, but then he learned that he _couldn't_ mystically turn into a colt, so he gave up the prospect, and just hung out with Eukara. All the while, he did have a little fascination with horses (namely the colts and the huge stallions), as that was the only masculinity he could pick up from anywhere. Just being around girls all the time gave him a shot when he went to marry, or so he hoped. Trey was fitted with a long, straight broadsword, which had obviously been picked up from a passing merchant. Mounting in a fluid movement, he took his nurse's hand in his. "Thank you, Neria."

"You say that as if we'll never meet again," the elderly woman said, tears entering her eyes at the very thought. "Take care of yourself, dear."

He frowned, but gave his horse a bitter nudge, and they took off through the hot desert afternoon, leaving a wide cloud of reddish dust in their wake. As his stallion got up to a full gallop, he lifted his cloak up over his nose and his hood down over his eyes, so he could see but not breathe in desert sands. His thin cloak billowed out behind him as he rode.

The spire that his mother spoke of was a rather well-known spot for Gerudo of all sorts, almost a pilgrimage destination for some, a sacred place for most, and to passing travelers, a monument that sparked as much wonder and curiosity as the fabled Arbiter's Grounds in the very western corner of the desert. He hadn't been there in his lifetime, but he hadn't ever wanted to go. Why his mother wanted him to attend an obscure ritual at this particular spot was a complete mystery to him, which was exactly why he wanted to go.

Reining Darnien in at the crest of a dune, Trey glimpsed the spire for the first time.

It was tall, for one. The spire rose high above all the dunes and gorges, yet still sat in a low section of the desert. Tall, and black like an evil, ragged thorn broken from an obscure vine and parched with sun and sand and heat... the spire was a marvel to behold. With the sand encased in its surface, it almost glistened in the setting sun like it was inlaid with diamonds.

Trey nudged his horse down the slope of the dune, heading directly for his mother after taking a deep, calming breath.

"Treyhern! Loyal son. Glad you came," said his mother, wearing a façade of pride. His mother, he, a bunch of guards were outside the spire. "Look inside! Right in there is your trick to a way out."

Uncomfortable with this, Trey only bowed his head, furrowing his brow, and squinting to peer inside of the cave. "A sword?" It was made of a dark metal, had a long handle, and several wicked-looking barbs along its blade.

"Draw it."

Curious, he did.

A dark light surrounded his hand as he pulled it from the sandstone. Then, a voice rang out from its length. "Ah, my master. It has been all too long since you have touched me."

Trey felt Gannondorf hum with a smile. "_Ghirahim_."

Wide-eyed, Trey questioned reproachfully, "Who are you? What do you want?"

Peals of laughter resonated from the blade. "How hilarious – young master, then. You know nothing of your sol's heritage. Ah, then let me explain, foolish young master. You are the heir to the Demon King's power. It is still here. Within you, my boy. You seek power? Done. I am the Demon Blade, Ghirahim. Feared and envied. And the holder of all the knowledge you need to ascend to my slain master's throne."

Trey frowned, his brow knitting together. "I seek nothing else but to purge myself of evil." He threw the demon blade to the floor. "You disgust me, Ghirahim."

In the same dark light as before, the sword transformed into a pale, nimble thing, doing a flip to land on his feet. He was wearing an _atrocious _white jumpsuit with a diamond cutout motif reveling his ghostly pale skin. A yellow sash was tied at his waist with a red stone adorning it in a similar diamond shape. He was wearing a red cloak with yellow diamonds inside, and a high collar, under which was a chain with diamond-shaped links. Even his blue stone earring was in a diamond shape. Under his dark left eye, a line of makeup was painted, but the other eye was covered with his long silver-colored hair, but the rest of his hair was trimmed short.

The monster bowed. "As you wish, young master." Then, he sauntered up, and lowered his head down to Trey's ear. "You may not be willing but this is your destiny." He licked his lips, emitting almost a purr as he nipped at Trey's ear.

Trey yelped and leaped back, hollering, "You're absolutely hideous!"

"If you say so, young master. Since you're on the weak side, I feel so full of rainbows disobeying you. You're nothing compared to my last master." Ghirahim swept his hand around in a flourish as he spoke, but slowly walked to Trey once more, and began to stroke his cheek. "Ah... Gannondorf tells me that you have a mother that treats you like a slave dog." The demon snapped his fingers, and disappeared in a shower of diamonds.

Ghirahim spread his hands as he re-appeared at the other side of the room. "You keep getting more and more interesting all the time." He sniffed a little, nose crinkling with disgust. "Oh, and you smell of _human_." An evil grin spread across his face, and he licked his lips again. "Humans: clutching to their mother's gowns, grovelling at the feet of their goddess, begging for mercy. We are the darkness. We are demons. We give no mercy."

"But _I_ give mercy," Trey growled in retort, glaring at Ghirahim, "which is what sets me apart from the likes of _you. _I give mercy to all those that deserve it. You deserve none, demon spawn." The young warrior drew his sword, tossing away the sheath. "I'll break your blade in two."

"Try it, boy."

Ghirahim held out his gloved hand, with two fingers raised up in a gesture of '_attack me_'. A smile crossed Trey's face. A fight... he could handle that.

So, the boy ran at the demon, and the pair broke out into fighting.

Trey, with his elegant fighting style, and Ghirahim, with his style focused on defense, crossed blades. Or, in this case, crossed hands. When Trey struck at Ghirahim, the demon would catch the young warrior's sword in his bare hand, and pull it away from him to attack him. So, Trey had to be cautious. Circling the nimble sword-creature, Trey looked for an opening, found it, and struck. Their game of parrying, circling, and random outbursts of attacks only stopped when Ghirahim took out a sword of his own, and began fighting with that. Slowly arcing it through the air, he paused.

Then charged.

Trey didn't have time to react to the sudden onslaught as Ghirahim sliced at his chest. Falling back, he hit his head on the hard-packed dirt and spat up blood. Breathing heavily, he just lay there, afraid to get up and move due to his injuries, but afraid not to move because the demon was still after him.

Clenching his eyes shut, he gave in, defeated.

And let the darkness consume him once more.

When Trey opened his eyes to the world again, the sun was setting. Seeing through Ganon's eyes, Ghirahim, in sword form, was in his hand.

He wanted so desperately to drop it, but he lacked the control to do so.

Gannondorf strode outside, all the while, Trey struggling against the mental pressure. Somehow, the Dark Lord was able to persevere through the gaping wound in his chest. "Mother, I have it. He put up a fight, but I forced his sword form."

"The effects should immediately start to take hold... Treyhern, can you feel the power run through you?"

His birthmark shimmered faintly in the dying sunlight. "Oh, yes. The power is amazing. With such a strong sword, I will always rule Hyrule, and get the Gerudo the attention they need just as Eukara said!" Ganon's face spread with a crooked smile. "Let us ride back to the city." With that, the Dark Lord mounted his steed and rode off into the night, so strong, now, that Trey couldn't hope to get back his body any time soon.

– x –

After a long ride back home, Trey found Ganon feeling dusty and hot. _Better him than me_, Trey thought dimly.

_Don't make me give you back your body now of all times,_ thought the other half of his consciousness, crinkling his brow in disgust. He smelled horrid, that was for sure. Of course, since they shared a body, by extension, so did Trey, but it wasn't Trey driving this boat, now was it?

The little servant girl from before met Ganon at the border of town. "Master Treyhern, sir! I bring news! The Wise Girl has woken! After you have bathed and anointed yourself, we will send her to you in the hall." He nodded in response, and she scampered off after giving him little bows in quick succession.

Demon sword attached to his horse's bags, and Trey's old sword strapped to Gannondorf's back, Trey couldn't even lift a finger to fight whatever was to come.


End file.

Legend of Zelda, Adventure, Friendship