Chapter Text
Although the Desert would always be Ganondorf’s home, he would be the first to admit that its landscape was harsh and unpleasant. He did not enjoy the pang of jealousy he felt towards the tribes who could bask in cooler climates. In the Grasslands, water and shade were plentiful, and the monsters that roamed here couldn’t swallow him whole. He took a deep breath in, and his lungs rejoiced to not be filled with sharp specks of sand.
Ganondorf had been afflicted lately with a heavy feeling in his chest he couldn’t place. The weight of the crown was not something to be taken lightly, and it left him feeling unbalanced and uncentered at times. Tired of being pulled between formalities to placate the newly crowned Hylian Queen’s endless quest for unity across a Kingdom so centred around her kind and the seemingly endless needs of his people, Ganondorf would admit (begrudgingly) that his temper had been growing shorter and shorter. This was why he found himself in the Grasslands: his Chief had all but forced a “vacation” from the throne upon him.
Riju, in spite of her young age, was a worthy Chief. Like an anchor, she steadied her King when he doubted himself. The few short years that separated the two and their shared fate to lead the Gerudo meant that they had grown up together and, over time, Riju had become acutely aware of what she would call Ganondorf’s “lonely nature”. She would be the first to tell Ganondorf that it was about time he “got over himself” and “opened up” or, Din forbid, entrusted his heart to another. To Ganondorf, courting seemed a monumental waste of otherwise precious time. Besides, in the Gerudo, he saw only his people; his sisters; his mentors; his mothers. He couldn’t think of a single person he wished to share his throne or (for that matter) his bed with.
As birdsong swept calmly through the trees, Ganondorf attempted to shake Riju’s well-meaning criticisms from his mind. He looked upwards, allowing the scarce rays of sunlight which cut through the fauna above him to dance across his face in the breeze and he paused, purposefully, to feel the clear air enter and exit his body. He closed his eyes, and tried to remember when he’d last had a truly restful sleep. He meditated for short moments every now and again when he could, but it had been a long time since he’d felt at peace; peace was one of the only commodities a King could not afford. He’d taken to drinking a tea blend at night that the Doctor had made for him, but even that failed to allow him to release the tension he felt in his body every day.
Scrambling, hurried, fast-approaching footsteps stirred Ganondorf from his musings. He adjusted his stance, and readied the scimitar hanging from the sash around his waist, fiery eyes focussed on the direction of the noise.
A red Bokoblin broke through the brush, yelping, clutching a well-worn backpack. It skidded to a halt upon laying eyes on Ganondorf, mouth agape.
Ganondorf prepared himself to engage it, envisaging a clean slice from his blade straight through the foul creature; and, yet, the moment did not come. A stone spear pierced the Bokoblin’s abdomen with great force and it let out a final, wheezing breath before it dropped the burlap bag on the ground. Its eyes rolled upwards lifelessly as it slumped forwards, its body sliding down the spear grotesquely.
Barefoot and panting, a tiny Hylian emerged from the trees, dusting off his hands, looking pleased with himself. Dark viscera (most of which was still fresh) smeared his clothing, and his face, flushed from sprinting, was similarly painted in blood, sweat, and dirt.
On the whole, this Hylian seemed to Ganondorf entirely unacquainted with soap.
Nonetheless, the throw was impressive.
“Well met, traveller.” Ganondorf announced, sheathing his blade, and the little Hylian all but jumped out of his skin when his big, blue eyes landed on the Gerudo King. “Worry not, I mean you no harm.”
The tips of the Hylian’s ears flushed red as he drank in the larger voe’s form before him. After a moment, he pointed sheepishly to the bag the Bokoblin had dropped before pointing to himself. Ganondorf supposed that the poor thing must be too surprised by his presence to speak, as Hylians often were. He towered over their kind, and audiences with the new Queen were rife with drawn-out stares from her entourage and hushed voices. Of course, all Gerudo were large in stature, but Ganondorf’s voe physiology was unique. There were times when he enjoyed this, and times when he did not. He wished he could choose who found him scary.
He leaned down to pick up the bag and cleared his throat, extending it out to the little Hylian.
“I take it you were stolen from?” He asked, and the Hylian nodded before walking to meet Ganondorf in the middle, ears still pricked up and blushed. When he retrieved his backpack, he was looking straight up at the Gerudo King. Placing his fingertips on his chin before moving his hand down and away from himself, he mouthed something Ganondorf did not quite catch before smiling.
Perhaps the odd gesture was a Hylian custom.
Ganondorf watched as the little Hylian dug through the bag. After a thorough search, he huffed, looking back up with an exasperated expression.
“It’s not all there?”
He shook his head.
“Well…” Ganondorf started, but, as soon as he had, the odd, small voe was bowing again and disappearing back through the brush. It was just as well; Ganondorf was entirely unsure what he was supposed to say next. He opened his mouth to say goodbye, but closed it just as quickly.
He looked down at the lifeless Bokoblin, only to assure himself that he had not hallucinated the entire event, and returned to his aimless and uninterrupted stroll through the woods.
The sun was beginning to set, and Ganondorf found himself on a steep hillside. Watching dusk fall out of the confines of Gerudo Town was a rarity. The night was chilling in the Desert, and only a fool would dare traverse it for such a banal activity.
He unrolled the plush sheet he had brought with him and spread it on the ground before collecting some kindling for a small fire. Uninterested in preparing a hot meal, he settled for biting into a few pieces of fruit as he unfurled the tightly packaged tea blend he’d come to rely on to get to sleep and set up a pot of fresh water from a nearby stream over the fire.
He could hear Riju’s voice clearly in his mind. “You need more food than that,” she would say, “your temper grows somehow shorter when you do not eat enough”. That was true; but there wasn’t anybody around to face the consequences of his temper, so he supposed it was alright.
Over the two and a half decades that he’d been alive, Ganondorf knew that he was a good King. There were far worse royals across Hyrule’s history (some of which, although it does not bear mentioning, were Gerudo Kings like him), and Ganondorf always tried to act with wisdom beyond his years. He cared deeply for his people, who relied on him to lead and protect them, especially from those who regarded the Gerudo as uncivilised thieves or temptresses, locked away in their Desert fortress. He would defend his people, his culture, and his language for as long as his heart was beating.
He wondered, then, if the feral little Hylian from earlier had anywhere he considered home. Why would any Hylian in their right mind travel alone? Although they varied massively in physicality, none of them struck Ganondorf as naturally warrior-like. In fact, many of them were desperately unappealing, despite the comical folklore that they were forged in the image of the Goddess Hylia herself.
Although he paid barely any thought to Hylian customs, it struck him as bizarre that such an uncharacteristically pretty one would be running amok, slaughtering Bokoblins over stolen goods in lieu of whatever it was a pretty Hylian would normally be doing. Tea parties or flower arrangements or sitting about in a tower waiting for a knight to arrive, or something like that.
Finishing his cup of tea, Ganondorf took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The sound of the fire he’d built was flickering quietly away as he tried his best to force the little Hylian from his mind. Sleep did not come easy.
There was a cough, loud and purposeful, from a few feet away.
Ganondorf hated many things, but being woken prematurely was close to the top of the list.
Ready to skewer whichever dimwitted soul had disturbed him, the Gerudo King sat up and scowled.
The little Hylian stood a few feet away, and rubbed a circle around his chest half-apologetically, his face struggling to hide a streak of mischievous amusement. He’d changed his clothes since yesterday and had clearly washed his face. Irritation stifled Ganondorf’s desire to admire him.
“Hylia above,” he spat, and the smaller voe hid a wider grin by biting his lip, “do you have any idea who I am?”
In response, Ganondorf was met with a series of gestures he had no means to understand. The little Hylian drew his right hand up diagonally across his face, patting his palm with his left fingertips as he did so, before winding his index finger in circles next to his temple, tapping his ear, and pushing one index finger forward with the other. It seemed like he was going to go on for much longer before Ganondorf stopped him.
“I don’t have time to decipher whatever you’re trying to tell me. What do you want? Speak.”
He made a huff that would’ve been endearing if Ganondorf was in any less of a foul mood. He shook his head, sighed, and began digging through his pockets. Between Rupees and apple cores and hair ties, he finally produced a crumpled piece of parchment. He unfurled the small square and presented it to Ganondorf, pointing at the scribble on it.
The scribble was a cylindrical shape drawn in blotchy ink with unevenly sized dots across it and a small spout at the top. When Ganondorf provided the Hylian with no answer to the hieroglyph, he took the piece of paper back and pretended to blow into the top of the object, whistling, before pointing at Ganondorf, and then pointing to his eye.
The Gerudo King took a stab in the dark.
“You’re looking for an object like that?”
The Hylian smiled brightly and hummed in affirmation, pleased that he’d managed to communicate effectively. He handed the paper back to Ganondorf, who was unsure why he took it. He felt a slight pang of guilt that he was about to burst the little Hylian’s bubble of excitement.
“I don’t have it. You’ve disturbed me for nothing. What fun.”
He shook his head, exasperated, and pointed to his backpack. It jogged Ganondorf’s sleep-fogged memory.
“Ah. It’s what was missing from your bag. So, the Bokoblins took it?”
He nodded this time.
“Hylian, please listen carefully.” Ganondorf said, rubbing his eyes with the flats of his palms. “I’m of no help to your quest.”
The voe’s face sank into something resembling a sulk, and he pushed his fingers together before bringing his palm flat to his chin and moving his hand away from himself. It was a gesture Ganondorf remembered from yesterday’s equally puzzling meeting. Once again, before Ganondorf could bid him a proper farewell, the little Hylian had scampered away, the sound of his footsteps on the soft grass below growing quieter and quieter.
Ganondorf slumped back down, entirely awake, and looked up into the cloudy morning sky. Again, he was struck with the thought that perhaps he’d gone mad. Surely there wasn’t really a mute, feral Hylian wandering through the brush, gutting Bokoblins in search of a spotted teapot.
Surely.
Din above, the spotted teapot was real.
The Gerudo King had been drawn towards the sound of Bokoblins congregating and banging their weapons together, thoroughly ruining the peaceful ambiance of the forest he had been enjoying all morning when he saw it. It was not a teapot at all, but a bright blue trinket of some kind, being bashed on the ground by one of the foul monsters as if it were trying to find something inside.
The decision to retrieve the stolen item (and scare the Bokoblins out of their wits in the process) was made in an instant. He dropped from his high vantage point on a rocky incline close to the creatures’ encampment with a considerable thud, scimitar drawn. The Bokoblins’ ears pricked before their clamouring stopped and they turned as a collective to face their combatant.
Predictably, the yelping and fleeing began not long after the fight had started. A frenzy broke out as Ganondorf sliced through the one foolish enough to charge at him first, its allies entirely certain that they wouldn’t live to tell the tale of engaging with this foe. Most dropped their weapons in fear as they ran, crashing into each other mindlessly.
One of them made a dash for the trinket, but it was quickly dispatched. It was clear that the Gerudo King had come to claim what had been stolen, and none were brave (or stupid) enough to attack next. Ganondorf could have laughed; the monsters here were nothing compared to the dark forces he knew to lurk in the Desert.
The forest quiet again, Ganondorf walked over to the trinket. He leant down to pick it up far gentler than the monsters had been handling it, and was surprised by the sheer craftsmanship of the object. It was smooth and cold, as if it were made from lapis lazuli or glass. To the little Hylian’s credit, it did resemble the odd scribble he’d presented Ganondorf with. The spots were not spots at all, but holes. It was an instrument, and one he’d seen heavily associated with the Hylians in historical artworks. Its name was odd-sounding, and Ganondorf couldn’t quite remember it.
Intrigued, he blew into the instrument lightly. It made a small, tuneless whistle. He adjusted the way he held it in his hands (which were far too large to hold the damned thing how it was supposed to be held) and rested his fingers as best he could against two of the holes. It made a different tone when he blew into it again, but no less discordant. Out of sheer curiosity, he wondered how loud a sound the tiny instrument could make. He took a deep breath in, filling his lungs, and exhaled sharply.
The sound was embarrassingly loud and screeching. It reverberated across the forest, and the birds which had been perched in the thick trees above cleared away in great droves, their wings flapping irritatedly at the noise that had interrupted their pruning and sunbathing. Ganondorf pulled the instrument away from his mouth and furrowed his brows at it, offended that it had dared to make such an ungodly sound in his presence.
“Ah!”
Upon hearing the happy exclamation behind him, the Gerudo King turned, and was only half-surprised to see who it was. The little Hylian was already a few metres away from him, far muddier and a little bloodier than he was this morning.
He beamed at Ganondorf, although he seemed out of breath from what must’ve been a sprint. For the third time, he brought his hand up, palm flat to his chin, before pushing his hand outwards. He then drew his hand up to his face before balling it up into a fist and raising it to his temples, walking towards the taller man and stopping right in front of him, staring upwards.
Ganondorf had not been able to study the small voe’s face in quite such detail before. Under his eyes were a little dark - assumedly, there was little time for sleep in his frantic search for the instrument - but that did not detract from how soft his features were. There were a few nicks and scratches, too, littering his skin, which Ganondorf mused could be alleviated with the aloe mixture he and his warriors used on their own wounds. Unfazed by the Gerudo King’s staring, the little Hylian held out his hands - tiny things, which could have been dwarfed by Ganondorf’s own - with slender fingers and short fingernails, a little dirty around the cuticles, and calluses on his palms from rock climbing.
For a moment, Ganondorf considered not handing over the instrument. If he did, that would surely mean that the voe would bow and run off, never to be seen again. He would exit Ganondorf’s life as quickly as he had stumbled into it, and that would be that.
But, of course, Ganondorf didn’t act on that thought.
“I believe this belongs to you,” he said, and the little Hylian beamed at him wider in response.
He returned the trinket to its owner, who excitedly stuffed it into one of his already-full pockets. When he looked back up at Ganondorf, his face and the tips of his ears were still pinky-red, but he didn’t seem as out of breath as he was before.
“May I ask,” Ganondorf started, hoping that his attempt to prolong their exchange wasn’t completely transparent, “what significance does it hold? You clearly went to great lengths to retrieve it.”
Still silent, the little Hylian produced a tightly rolled-up map and unfurled it in one motion, handing it to Ganondorf. The map was well-worn and poorly treated but, to his surprise, it was the most intricate map of Hyrule Ganondorf had ever laid his eyes on. Scrawled across each point of interest in all corners of the Kingdom was scratchy Hylian script, realms and borders mapped out in thick lines, and route marks still visible from travels long ago. How had this voe come into possession of such a map?
Scanning it closely (and searing as much new information as he could to memory), Ganondorf’s eyes landed on the red circle around Zora’s Domain. Next to it was another, smaller drawing of the lapis-coloured instrument.
“You’re taking it to the Zora.” Ganondorf stated, and the little Hylian nodded in response. He then started another series of gestures the Gerudo King had very little hope of properly deciphering: he pressed his fingertips together, palms flat and outward-facing, chest-height, before pushing his hands outwards and mimicking placing something on his head.
Close enough to focus on his face instead of the gestures themselves, Ganondorf tried to read the little Hylian’s lips and faintly picked up on the word ‘prince’. The voe motioned again to the map, prodding Hyrule Castle with his index finger, before drawing a line over to Zora’s Domain.
Ganondorf’s memory of the Zora Prince’s upcoming wedding sparked. A cursory invitation had been sent to his palace, but the King had no intention of attending. Perhaps he would send an envoy with his apologies to endure the ceremony in the unlikely event there’d be a fuss over the lack of a Gerudo representative.
“A gift,” Ganondorf summarised, relatively sure that he’d put the pieces together, “from one royal to another? And it’s your responsibility to deliver it, is it?”
The little Hylian hummed in affirmation, but Ganondorf was astonished that the task did not seem to faze him in the slightest. He had already been considerably sidetracked by Bokoblins, and now he intended to trek halfway across the continent to deliver a squashed flute?
“And you are…” He said, concerned, and the voe’s smile diluted into a curious look as his map was returned to him. “...You feel equipped to complete this journey alone?”
His brows quirked as if the King’s question wasn’t entirely valid in his mind and chuckled a bit before nodding.
“You are not tired?”
A shake of the head.
“Or worried?”
A shake of the head.
“Or hungry?”
The little Hylian went to shake his head automatically, but he didn’t quite get around to it. He looked down at his own stomach and patted it contemplatively, as if it had been a long time since it occurred to him that he needed to eat. Looking back up at the Gerudo King, he made a different smile to his usual enthusiastic or excited ones.
Ganondorf scarcely indulged in ‘making friends’. On one hand, he was remarkably bad at all of the things that came with companionship: sharing, communicating, generally empathising.
On the other hand, it wasn’t as if he would see this voe again once his “vacation” from the Desert was over. Perhaps a change of pace could be allowed, just for now.
That was the rationale he gave himself for the next question he asked the Hylian, anyway.
“I was going to set up camp and eat now, actually.” He said, suppressing the smile that threatened to emerge at the sight of the little Hylian’s big blue eyes lighting up. “Would you care to join me?”
Receiving a loud, happy hum in response, he took off his bag and drew the food he’d packed from it: a few root vegetables, some dried beans and lentils, and a good handful of blended spices, all individually wrapped in cloth packages. After the Hylian scanned the ingredients, he pointed to himself before mimicking using a frying pan. The Gerudo King was more than happy to take up the voe’s offer; of his many talents, cooking was not one of them.
“By all means.” He said as his companion nodded, already getting to work by dicing a parsnip with a dagger on a slab of wood. “I’ll collect some water.”
The little Hylian cooked diligently, adding small amounts of spices and tasting the stew as he went. It was clear he knew what he was doing, so Ganondorf left him to it. Every now and again, the voe would look up from the cauldron and smile at the Gerudo King, as if he were checking that he’d not missed anything that the other had said or done. He took off for a few minutes as the stew bubbled to forage some chestnut-capped mushrooms; ones that he assured Ganondorf were definitely safe to eat.
“Tell me,” Ganondorf spoke, breaking their long stretch of comfortable silence, and it took the little Hylian quite a while to register his voice, “is it customary for Hylians not to speak in the presence of royalty?”
The voe bristled, paused, and opened his mouth. No sound came out. He rested the wooden spoon he was using to stir their stew on the side of the cauldron, wondering how best to answer the other’s question.
Slowly, he rested his index and middle finger against his ear. In the growing darkness of twilight, Ganondorf had to squint to make out the word that the little Hylian had mouthed: ‘deaf’.
“That’s absurd!” Ganondorf replied, and his disbelief was met with the voe’s mouth straightening into a hard, judgemental line. The tips of his long ears pointed downwards irritatedly. “How else did you find me other than by following the sound of that flute? You expect me to believe you happened upon me by chance?”
The Hylian all but rolled his eyes. He locked his thumbs together and mimicked birds flying into the sky, just as they had done in response to the instrument hours earlier. Evidently, he had seen the birds rather than heard the noise.
“Alright, well, then, how can you tell what I’m saying?”
Link pointed, purposefully, to his lips. He was clearly very good at lip-reading.
“Oh.” Ganondorf exhaled.
“Oh.” The little Hylian repeated before returning to cooking. Ganondorf didn’t know whether he should apologise or not. He stayed quiet, and his companion began humming an unfamiliar song.
With the absence of two bowls (as, of course, the Gerudo King had only packed one), the smaller voe ate straight from the cauldron after taking Ganondorf’s from him, messily dipping it into the stew, and handing him the largest portion the bowl could hold. Ganondorf ate far slower than his companion, who all but polished it off in a few minutes at most, stopping only slightly before the end to check if the taller voe wanted more. Each mouthful he took was a completely full one. Ganondorf supposed he looked endearing with his mouth full, which was a thought he immediately scolded himself for and forced himself to stare at his food instead.
Indeed, this Hylian lacked what Ganondorf had come to understand as the common formalities of his race. The upper-class Hylian insistence on an excessive amount of tiny cutlery at dinner infuriated him to no end, and their food was rather overcomplicated, cold, pristine-looking. The little Hylian’s cooking, however, was very different; it was simple and filling.
When he’d finished, he found that the voe was looking at him. He held his thumb up, questioningly.
“It was delicious.” Ganondorf replied, setting his bowl down next to him. “Thank you.”
The little Hylian smiled, still standing by the fire. His features were lit by the warm light beneath him, and he seemed to feel much better for stopping to eat.
“It strikes me as odd, though,” the Gerudo King went on, “that I don’t yet know your name.”
The statement was met with palpable confusion, and the voe tilted his head. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before making a new gesture, mouthing a word. He created two circles with his index fingers and interlocked them.
Ganondorf looked at him scrupulously. He knew that name.
“Link? You share the name of Queen Zelda’s Knight, do you not?”
Link laughed openly, covering his mouth with his hand to try and stifle it.
Then, he pointed to himself.
Ganondorf could not contain his shock.
“You’re joking!”
Ganondorf had heard a great deal about Link, but their paths had never crossed. Link was a near-legendary Hylian soldier. The Queen’s valiant Knight. A banisher of evil. Although there had been very little in the way of cataclysmic demonic forces across the Kingdom as of late, was he truly supposed to believe that this tiny, unwashed thing scampering about the brush was Link?
“So, Link, grand Knight of Hyrule, why are you the one delivering a trinket to the Zora? You expect me to believe that your Queen sends you on errands?”
Link shrugged.
“You’re not going to attempt to explain it?”
Link shook his head. He seemed to believe the explanation was more trouble than it was worth.
“You are exhausting.” Ganondorf bristled, resting his hands on his upper legs in an over-dramatic huff. They sent each other amused looks from either side of the fire.
Thinking about it, the little Hylian was clearly well-versed in combat and was a proficient survivalist. It simply struck Ganondorf as overwhelmingly odd that a Hylian of (what he presumed was) very high standing to be anywhere but Hyrule Castle. Even so, against his better judgement, Ganondorf settled on the fact that Link had very little to gain from lying to him.
Stirring him from his thoughts, Link stood up and mimed drinking from a glass before pointing to Ganondorf.
“Would tea suit the Queen’s Knight?”
They went about setting up the fire for the tea. When Ganondorf put only a few leaves into the water, Link tutted and tried to put more in. Ganondorf had to hold it higher than his companion could reach it.
“It clears your mind for sleep, so I suggest you not have very much. I’ll add more for myself later.”
Link’s portion brewed, Ganondorf poured it carefully into their only cup (again, the Gerudo King had packed only one for himself and it was clear that Link did not consider crockery to be a useful thing to pack himself). Link shuffled closer to him instead of reaching over the fire for it, and didn’t move back afterwards. He took a sip and his face screwed up. Ganondorf had forgotten how bitter the tea was at first.
Attempting to alleviate the smaller voe’s battle with the taste, he tried to give him something else to focus on.
“Link, would you care to teach me some of your hand signs? Some basic phrases, perhaps.”
The little Hylian nodded, downed the entire drink in one unpleasant-looking mouthful, then put the teacup down. Still sitting, they shuffled to face each other.
“It would make your explanations of things far less frustrating for us both, I’m sure.”
Link spent the next hour or so - growing sleepier by the minute - teaching Ganondorf bits and pieces of his language. Together, they’d cobbled together hello, goodbye, good morning, good night, how are you, you’re welcome, thank you (the one Ganondorf was the most familiar with), cold and hot before moving onto things they could see: food, fire, tea, trees, moon, stars. Ganondorf was even able to remember the word for the instrument Link was delivering to the Zora - ocarina - but only through a comically long stint of having to watch Link mouth the word over and over again. Eventually, Ganondorf had even learned the signs for the Kingdom’s races: Hylian, Gerudo, Zora, Rito, Goron, Sheikah, Yiga.
“Remind me,” Ganondorf started in between sips of his own freshly-brewed and much stronger tea, “how to sign Link?”
Link repeated his gesture from earlier, interlocking two circles he made with his fingers. He smiled warmly at Ganondorf after he repeated the gesture, his gaze lingering on the Gerudo King’s hands for a while.
“So, how do you sign my name?”
Link looked puzzled, unsure how to begin, cogs turning. He started what looked like counting on his fingers in different patterns, slowly and with many revisions, but got stuck halfway.
“Are those letters?”
The little Hylian nodded, his tongue stuck out in confusion.
‘G-A-N…’
A eureka moment struck, and he decided to do something entirely different. He brought his fist to his mouth and then opened his palm, diffusing an exhalation.
“I take it that’s a placeholder, then. What have you decided to call me?”
Link simpered and grinned, refusing to tell him.
“If it’s monster or giant or thief or anything like that, I’m not going to be happy with you.”
The little Hylian’s grin fell, as did the tips of his ears, and he reached forward to touch Ganondorf’s arm. His grip was light. He shook his head sincerely.
“Don’t make that face,” the Gerudo King assured, “I didn’t actually think that.”
‘We could keep Gan.’ Link suggested.
“We could.”
Link hummed contentedly, leaning away. Ganondorf felt the loss of warmth, especially as he could feel sleep approaching. The smaller voe yawned loudly, and both knew that their impromptu language lesson was drawing to a close.
Link had bundled up on the ground as close as he could to the embers of their fire, swaddled in a thin sheet he’d pulled from the bottom of his knapsack. Ganondorf, on the other hand, had eventually settled leaning against a tree close to the fire, and had a relatively dreamless night. He was woken by the sound of quiet music nearby.
It was a tuneful, bright melody. He opened his eyes to find that Link was the source of the music, swaying as he played the ocarina. The rays of the morning sun were filtering through the forest across Link’s body, and his face showed a deep but tranquil concentration. His little fingers gripped the ocarina deftly, moving with expert dexterity, his chest rising and falling as he breathed through his nose in-between notes. His lips were wrapped around the mouthpiece of the instrument.
Something unfamiliar and tight stirred in the pit of Ganondorf’s stomach.
Din above, was he attracted to a Hylian?
Link finished his song and opened his eyes, embarrassed to see that Ganondorf was awake and watching him. He shoved the ocarina into his pocket, the tips of his ears glowing red, as if he’d been caught red-handed doing something improper.
‘Good morning, Gan’, he signed, trying to suppress his surprise.
“Sav'otta,” he replied, “you play beautifully.”
Link gripped his own upper arm and smiled. The feeling in Ganondorf’s stomach did not go away.
Din above, he was attracted to a Hylian.
Ganondorf had no idea how to process the new information his own body and mind had presented him with. He wanted very badly to extend the time he had with Link, but he was unsure why; to confirm that his suspicion was true? To get to look at him more? To figure out how to go about being attracted to someone?
And, so, in a split second decision, he asked:
“This may seem forward, and you are very welcome to decline, but could I accompany you on your quest?”
Link’s face lit up. He nodded, and that was that.
The journey to Zora’s Domain was relatively uneventful, and neither King nor Knight encountered monsters that gave either any trouble. Link was particularly unamused to find that most Bokoblins took to running from Ganondorf over engaging with him - a luxury they never afforded him, despite his reputation - and took great pleasure in still catching a few with his bow. Link would admit, however, that his travel companion did not come without his perks; he was happy to offer Link boosts up, which made climbing trees and tall walls much easier, and he always let Link eat more than half the food at dinner.
Link had many quirks as an adventurer that amused Ganondorf to no end: the sheer joy in finding any Rupee more valuable than a blue one and the constant swapping around of weapons scavenged from corpses being among his particular favourites.
Much of their conversations hinged on Ganondorf committing new hand signs to memory. They had quickly discovered that the best way for him to learn Link’s sign language was asking for words or sentences to be translated, and repeating the gestures a few times. If it was Link who wanted to say something entirely new, Ganondorf had to focus, rather closely, on the words he was mouthing; an especially amusing sight when Link had decided to teach the Gerudo King how to curse. (‘Fuck.’ “One more time?” ‘Fuck!’.) A handful of days in, and Link’s once-hopeless attempts at communicating had turned, to their shared delight, as usually decipherable.
Growing closer to their destination, Ganondorf had managed to understand that Link had offered to deliver the ocarina himself, as he was a good friend of the Zora Prince, Sidon, and it had been far too long since he had been able to take himself on an adventure.
‘I like the wild.’ He had signed. ‘Zelda knows I don’t like being in the Castle.’
As they set up camp that evening, it struck Ganondorf that it was coming up to the final day of their expedition. Accompanying Link to Sidon’s palace itself would no doubt raise questions for an explanation he could not muster. He felt that he’d had enough time away from his duties in Gerudo Town that he should make his way back soon, anyway.
Rather wistfully, he wondered if Link (who was scooping the insides from a large pumpkin he assured Ganondorf the farmer would be happy for him to take) was thinking the same. Link was so one-track minded, though. He probably wasn’t.
The air was much cooler than it had been for much of their hike, so much that the little Hylian was shivering every now and again, huddled close to the small fire he’d lit as he whittled away at the pumpkin. Ganondorf, who had been put in charge of dicing onions because they made Link's eyes weep, went over to his companion and draped his cape around his shoulders, wordlessly. Although Link’s focus could scarcely be pulled away from something when he’d sent his mind to it (case in point: the pumpkin), he looked up at the Gerudo King, signed ‘thank you’, and pulled the fabric tightly around him before returning to his task. Ganondorf thought he looked quite funny with his arms poking out of the cape, but was also pleased to see that the shivering had stopped.
They soon began their familiar ritual of eating across from one another, Link’s face all but buried in the pan, slurping from a large ladle they’d found, while Ganondorf slowly sipped soup from his bowl. As Link replaced the cauldron with Ganondorf’s teapot and set about preparing their nightly tea, the Gerudo King was left with little else to do. After a while of sitting idly, he supposed that it would be as good a time as any to re-braid his hair.
The one he’d been wearing throughout their expedition was long overdue for being taken out and set again, so he dug through his bag for his comb. It was a delicate object made from jade, and did well at tackling Ganondorf’s thick, seemingly endless hair. He unfurled the kinks and curls that had formed as he undid the tie, and swept the comb downwards in easy, long motions.
It took him a little while to register the big eyes that had landed on him. Link was staring with rapt attention.
“I was just thinking the same thing, Link,” Ganondorf chuckled, “you could use this, too.”
He tossed the comb to Link, who caught it and considered it carefully, as if he’d never seen a comb before. Of course, that was definitely not the case; Ganondorf doubted very much that Link looked unpolished when attending to the Queen. The little Hylian pried his hair tie out of what had been a very messy updo, and stuck the comb into his hair. He yanked it harshly, and the little object struggled against the tangles he found. He tried again and again with little luck.
Ganondorf knelt up and reached over their dying fire to tap Link on the shoulder.
“You’re going to break it at this rate, and I rather like that comb.”
Link yanked the comb back out of his hair and placed it back in Ganondorf’s outstretched palm in a huff. The Gerudo King pulled the blonde hairs from the comb’s teeth in feigned disgust, which softened Link’s frustration with the object somewhat.
An admittedly self-indulgent idea then came to him; and he decided to act on it. It wasn’t as if he’d been acting with his usual restraint over the past week. It would be a shame to begin now.
“Would you like me to do it for you?”
Link beamed at him - a smile that was becoming increasingly familiar to the Gerudo King - and shuffled over to Ganondorf’s side, still in his cloaked bundle.
“Alright, turn around. Just a bit in front of me.” He instructed, and Link obliged, sitting cross-legged with his back to Ganondorf. Ganondorf re-positioned himself, but couldn’t find the best angle to begin. He tapped Link so that he could turn around and see his lips. “Can you come a bit closer?”
Link hummed affirmatively and turned back around, his back bumping against Ganondorf’s crossed legs. The larger voe un-crossed his legs, resting them either side of Link, who continued to scoot backwards. ‘Good?’ He signed, fidgeting about a little, leaning into the other’s warmth.
Ganondorf started at the ends of the little Hylian’s hair so that he wouldn’t be pulling too harshly, trying his best to focus on the task at hand and not the body between his legs. The tangles weren’t the worst he’d seen; he was particularly protective of his own hair as a teenager, refusing to let the older vai braid it for him despite him taking bad care of it. Nonetheless, he tried to be as gentle as he could, teasing the knots and working around them rather than trying to pull the comb straight through them. He was happy to hear that Link seemed to be enjoying the process, humming every now and again. After a while, he was yawning, too.
His job done, Ganondorf placed the comb beside them and ran his fingers through Link’s hair. Link sighed and leaned into Ganondorf’s hand, who (unsurprisingly) found great joy in bringing the little Hylian pleasure. The Gerudo King felt an overwhelming urge to be even closer to Link, but pushed it down in lieu of separating the smaller voe’s hair into sections and began plaiting his hair.
Deep in thought, Ganondorf mused that he had never been so content to be so close to another person. Link’s presence (both physically and in his life more broadly,) was a welcome one. He knew very little about how he was going to deal with the issue in the long run but, for now, he was certain that he wanted to make Link sigh more.
When the braid was finished, Ganondorf reached into his pocket on instinct to tie it off with one of his own orange bands, replacing the Hylian’s old blue one. Feeling the larger voe’s hands no longer on him, Link reached behind his head to feel the pattern of the braid before craning his neck back to flash Ganondorf a very tired but very wide smile.
Satisfied with his work, Ganondorf smiled back.
Link scooched around, resting on his knees to face his companion.
“There now,” Ganondorf said, voice low and soft, “you shouldn’t need to worry about getting your hair in a mess for a while.”
‘Thanks,’ Link signed, and Ganondorf signed ‘you’re welcome’ back.
Link lingered there for a while, his expression sleepy.
“Time to rest?” The Gerudo King asked.
Link nodded, but told Ganondorf that he was cold. It struck him as odd; the little Hylian hadn’t seemed so since he wrapped his cape around him, and the chill in the air was no more than before.
“Are you after more of my clothes?” He laughed, and Link did too, quietly. “I’ll have none left for myself soon.”
Link’s expression told Ganondorf he was trying to figure out how to do something. From their travels, Ganondorf had come to understand that Link was more of a do-er than a planner.
Tentatively, the little Hylian put his hand on Ganondorf’s chest.
‘You’re warm’, he signed with his free hand.
“I'm always warm.” He paused. “I could... help you stay warm, Link.”
The smaller voe hummed and pulled himself towards Ganondorf, resting his head on his chest.
Slowly, carefully, Ganondorf wrapped his arms around Link.
He felt nearly weightless to the Gerudo King.
Experimentally, Ganondorf moved his hand to Link’s head, lightly playing with his hair. Link sighed again, then brought his hand up to rest on top of Ganondorf’s. The larger voe interlocked their fingers. It earned him another sigh. How were the noises Link himself made more beautiful than the music he made with the ocarina?
He stayed as still as he could, willing his heartbeat to return to normal. Eventually, Link’s breathing slowed and he drifted off to sleep in Ganondorf’s arms.
“Sav'orr, Link.” He whispered, his own eyelids heavy.
As sleep took hold of the Gerudo King, he knew he did not have long left to spend with his Hylian.
He resolved to savour every moment he could.