Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Link is a mother.

Above any other station in his life, be it his place as a queen or a wife, Link is a mother.

He’s done everything a mother is supposed to do: fed and housed his children, began teaching them lessons vital to their survival and well-being, and given them the unending love that his mother gave to him. They wanted for nothing, living in exorbitant wealth, just as they deserved.

Once upon a time, Link had that childhood, enjoying those blissful days without any thought of the future. He supposes that it was foolish of him to not consider that his mother might die one day, or that he might leave his family behind, but there is no time for looking back at the past and lamenting what he should have done. Link lives in the now, and the now is where his children are; where his family is.

“Mama,” a tiny voice cuts through the silence of where the five of them are, recognized as Elaria’s. “Who are they?” Her tiny finger points at the portrait sitting atop the desk, the shine of the glass catching in his eye when he follows her trail.

They’re inside the well behind his home in Hateno, having come to visit for a vacation of sorts while things in the desert have slowed down. With five consecutive years of constant trade agreements and renovations to the palace and town alike, the king and queen haven’t had a proper chance to enjoy time with their family.

It’s a miracle they didn’t pass out from the moment they stepped out of the carriage and onto Hateno grass. Link knows he’s exhausted, but his concern leans more toward Ganondorf and the girls’ side, wondering if they need an extra day to laze around and get some well-needed rest. After all, they have been here since early in the morrow, and if Link has learned anything from his five years as a mother, it is that children can get just as easily tired as they can energize.

He smiles once he gets himself out of his own thoughts, crouching down to get on Elaria’s level so that he can point in the same direction as her. “Do you see the woman?”

She nods. Link reaches to tap on his mother’s face, reiterating who he’s talking about. “This is my Mama, so she would be your Grandma Emreis.” Being able to tell his kids about his parents and sister causes a swell in his heart that he hasn’t felt in quite some time. More than ever is it important that they learn more about their heritage; after all, Ganondorf has taught them nearly all the basics about their Gerudo roots. Now, it’s time for them to learn about the smaller, Hylian side of their roots.

The little girl’s face lights up, her brown eyes sparkling when she steps closer to the desk. Her tiny hands grab at the edge as she stands on the very tips of her toes to get a better look. Link grabs her gently, holding her higher so that she isn’t having to stretch so far. With his free hand, he gestures to his father, turning to face her.

“That’s my Papa; he’s your Grandpa Emreis. And in this photo,” Link points to his photo of Aryll, his father, and grandfather. “Is my sister; she’s your Aunt Aryll. I had a sister just like you do, only, you have more than me.” The clarification brings an even bigger smile to his face, the few memories he has left of his family reminding him of just how grateful he is for his daughters and Ganondorf.

Elaria furrows her brows, mouth in a pout when she whips her head around to face Link. Confused, she asks, “Where are they?”

That isn’t the reminder he’s wanting. Link freezes up; every muscle in his body is locking in place to restrict any passage of the haunting memories of their deaths. Constant imaginations of how they felt when they died, wondering if he would ever come back from the coma. They never got to know if he was okay, and yet, here he stands, alive and well while they’re nothing but bones under the dirt. He blinks rapidly in hopes of deterring the tears on the edges as they’re nothing more than a distraction.

A hand on his shoulder keeps him steady; reins him in from the slump he was starting to slide into. Link gazes over his shoulder toward Ganondorf, who squeezes him in return. With enough courage to tell the truth, Link cuddles Elaria and sighs. “They’re not here anymore, my little sunshine.”

“But why?” Elaria grabs at Link’s tiered, thick haori, bright yellow with the Gerudo insignia printed all over. Underneath is a layered skirt, short enough that he can walk without tripping over the fabric. It’s a paler yellow, only decorated near the hem with a swirling pattern similar to the one on Ganondorf’s yukata. On his head, a sheer veil, complimenting the color palette he’s been dressed in. It’s lined with jewels, the same as Ganondorf’s but with their own spin to make them uniquely Link’s.

“Because Din called for them to go elsewhere,” Ganondorf answers this time around, taking over for Link as he rises with the girl in his arms. Below, Zeka walks over and grabs at his haori, sticking by his side. Annora has been exploring the small sanctuary, sticking her fingers in the puddles of water and playing with the moss that lines the ground. “You know, she needs her people to come home, just as the desert calls for us.”

Being given a moment of silence, the opportunity is taken for Link to prepare what he wants to do next. They had brought all the necessary supplies for a proper prayer ritual, and Link wasn’t about to skip out on it this time around. Having the entire family with him is exactly what he’s needed—ever since Ganondorf made it known they were going on a vacation, Link had made it a point to push for Hateno. With enough convincing and sex, he managed to sway his husband to his side, and now, they were where he needed them.

Link watches Elaria go through a flurry of emotions, her brain processing what Ganondorf has told her. Seeing as she has been more inclined to follow Ganondorf, it doesn’t surprise him that she nods rapidly and hugs Link’s neck. “Okay, Pop Pop.”

Ganondorf grimaces while Link fights to not grin at the remark. The Gerudo’s massive palm smacks across his face, which elicits a giggle from the triplets. This is what they’ve been trying to teach them not to say for the past year, all thanks to Riju’s jokes about Ganondorf being a grandpa.

“Pop Pop!” Annora calls out, rushing up to Ganondorf and poking at his leg. “Pop Pop! Look!” She brings up her other hand, revealing a pile of moss. It’s sparkling with water, still spongy as she squeezes it and stretches her mouth in the biggest grin. “It’s soft! Touch it!”

They wait expectantly for the man to get down on one knee, and when he does, Elaria pulls at Link’s neck. “I want down with Papa!” And only then does she use the correct term, insisting that she get to be around the parent she prefers. Following her command, Link helps her down and allows her to run to Ganondorf, sighing pleasantly at the sight of her hugging his leg.

Witnessing his children's’ unconditional love for their father brings a fulfillment to Link that he’s only known recently. Back when they were but wee babies, Link worried they would be closer to him than Ganondorf, as he was closer to his mother when he was little like them. But over the years, his worries have been assuaged by them opting to spend time with one or the other.

As it stands, Elaria prefers time with Ganondorf, though she often spends time with Link… albeit, when Ganondorf isn’t present. Annora would much rather be with Link, but playing with Ganondorf always catches her interest. And with Zeka, the poor thing is afraid of her own father. He’s never been violent or enraged in front of them, but Link wonders if his immense size is the reasoning behind her fear.

Because of that, Zeka remains quiet, content to stay by Link’s side. He sees himself in her; shy, reserved, and silent for the majority of time. Link pats her on the back, his eyes flicking to her own as he tries to cheer her up. “Why don’t you go over to Papa? He wants all the hugs he can get, you know?”

Zeka hides herself in his haori, giving a little whimper while the other two play with the moss. He thinks on it, hand coming up to his chin and rubbing it as his mind searches for a solution. The little girl is attached to him, but there have been times when she goes to Ganondorf. If Zeka doesn’t want to leave him, then…

“Let’s go to Papa together, okay? Ann and Ela are showing him the moss… Do you want to see it?” He cocks his head to the side, and while it may not be seen as smart to give her a decision by others, Link wants her to know she has a choice. If she doesn’t learn to make choices now, what will happen when she is trapped in a sticky situation?

He’s surprised when she nods, adjusting herself in order to let the two of them walk together. Link, pleased, makes his way to Ganondorf, body going warm at the closeness between them. His hand is still on the girl’s back, comforting her through the hesitant choice to get closer. “Don’t be afraid,” Link reminds her. “Papa is a gentle giant, just like the sand seals back home.”

She takes a step forward, her hands playing with the hem of her shirt in her approach. Annora and Elaria squeal when they squeeze the moss and spray water on their faces, tossing it around and eagerly calling for Link to look. Such a scene reminds him of the beauty of life, holding his cheek with one hand. He had been like that, wanting desperately for his parents to share in his joy. And here his girls were, giving him the same experience.

Ganondorf, tearing himself away from the other two, outstretches his hand to Zeka and beckons her. “Now, now, little one. I’ll show you how moss works, and Mama can stay right with us.”

That promise gets her moving faster, latching onto Ganondorf’s side and tilting her head to find the moss being transferred to him. As his hand lowers, Zeka’s mouth opens, and she quickly reaches to touch it, bouncing on her heels. In the meantime, Annora and Elaria have rushed back to the water puddles to collect more.

Splashes of water fill the well, along with the shrieks and excited laughter from their daughters. Out of the corner of his eye, Link finds a sticky frog leaping around, chased after by both girls. Ah, those were the days… Finding critters and animals, trying to catch them and failing because he wasn’t quick enough.

Being in the desert hasn’t allowed them many opportunities to find animals and insects native to Link’s homeland. Sand seals are wonderful, yes, and so are the moldugas, but they have been surrounded by nothing but them for five straight years. Link has wanted to come explore Hyrule for a while now, and he’s certain that the girls have been yearning for a chance to share in his exploration.

What has happened while he’s been gone? Is everyone still rebuilding or has life been kind to them? There is only so much he saw when they came into Hateno, and with them having gone straight to his house to unpack, Link has neglected to get out and greet everyone. After all, they had gathered around once they saw the newly-built Gerudo carriage make its way inside town.

Such a strange sight it must be, witnessing the first ever visit from the Gerudo king and queen. The carriage was surrounded by guards on their mounts, and while they might have dismissed it as mere traders coming to sell and buy, the seal on the side should have said otherwise. It wasn’t hard to miss, in Link’s opinion, but when one becomes used to a common sign amongst his people, he finds himself to be somewhat biased.

“And so, since these are plants from the early days of Hyrule—.”

“What’s Hyrule?” Zeka interrupts Ganondorf, and it is only then that Link realizes something. They haven’t discussed Hyrule in front of the girls in a long time, only dealing with the Rito, Gorons, and occasionally, the Zora.

They don’t even know what Hyrule is… Oh, goddess. I really have to stay on top of my teachings!

Distracted from his lingering thoughts on Hateno, Link returns to his motherly duties. “Hyrule is a kingdom, just like where we live. And right now, we’re in a town called Hateno. Remember when Papa and I told you three about coming here?”

Shaking her head in agreement, he continues with, “Well, Hateno is inside Hyrule, just like Gerudo Town is in the Gerudo Desert.” His explanation, while confusing even to himself, should be just enough to give the girls what they need to know. And with their faces brightening at the revelation, Link silently cheers in his thoughts, accomplishing one goal as a mother.

Ganondorf clears his throat, gesturing to the moss once again. “As I was saying… Moss is a plant from ancient times, before our home became what it is today. And you know what else? I am almost as old as moss.” His revelation, while simple, interests the girls enough that they all gather around him.

It’s the perfect opportunity. Link places his hand on Ganondorf’s bicep, gentle but reverent in his touch. “Gan, is it alright if I leave for a moment? To get the things for the ritual, of course.”

The Gerudo pauses, staring at him with hungry eyes until he lifts his lips. “Yes; just remember the rules.”

Link laughs, because Ganondorf should already know the answer to that unusual question. His hands, cold from the chill of the well, situate themselves on his hips as his cheeks push into his eyes. “Oh, Gan. You know I would never dare. Whatever you say, goes… Or did you forget?” He’s snickering; Ganondorf has an amusing way of behaving when it comes to new people meeting them.

“Well, I am getting up there in age…” Ganondorf muses, pretends to reflect on the past 10,060 years of his life. Link rolls his eyes and smirks, squeezing what he can of the man’s arm. Feeling the muscle underneath sends a shiver through him, the reminder of their rules that he relishes at the best—and worst—of times. “But, yes. Go collect the ritual materials. I will keep the girls busy in the meantime.”

“With tales of ancient history, I assume?”

With a shrug, the king hums. “They are the only tales I have, eromenos. You are most fortunate in that I can make even moss interesting.” Saying his loving pet-name has Link blushing, leaning up on his toes to kiss him on the cheek.

Pulling away leaves a lingering burn on his lips, the hungering for more unmistakable as it rumbles in his lower half. Thankfully, any desire is hidden by layers of fabric, covering indecency just as he would want. Link giggles, again, and bows to his king. “You can make even a tale of air interesting, erastes. And… I am most fortunate that you are even breathing the same air as me.” He leaves him with that teasing thought, waving farewell to the triplets while he begins his ascent.

The morrow sun nearly blinds him when he pops out of the well, stepping onto the grass and dusting himself off. Purple and pink clouds still linger in the sky, a greeting to him that he takes readily. If the time is right, then everyone should be having breakfast by now, giving Link a chance to rush back home.

He wraps his arms around his center and tries his best to walk in the dewy grass. Getting his feet wet has always bothered him, and considering he’s been wearing feet wrappings for the past five years, the dew gets on his nerves more than it used to. Back in the desert, the sand is warm and often grainy; a comforting feeling whenever he traveled to the outskirts with Ganondorf.

Not here. He has forgotten what Hateno was like, his brain consumed with the life he has lived for what feels like forever. It’s a sort of culture shock, Link thinks. And yet, I lived here for so long. My brain has never been right…

Grass sways to his side and in front of him, the front porch in reach. Little decorations over the door, long abandoned, have been aged by the sun. To the side of his door, a potted plant remains inside. Of all the things to be untouched, Link hadn’t anticipated a plant to be. He tries to smile; tries to grab the doorknob and rush inside when a deep voice shocks him.

“Your Highness.”

Link whips his head around so fast that it makes him unsteady on his feet. Immediately, the woman is at his side, steadying him with a soft chuckle. “Please, Your Highness, be more careful. I come to ask an important question.”

Question? Finally processing who has grabbed him, Link huffs, slumping. “Orienta, it is early. Shouldn’t you be eating with the others?”

She clicks her tongue, her tell-tale sign of annoyance, and Link’s chest tightens. “I would, but it appears you have some eager visitors.” Gesturing to the side, Link finally takes a look, startling when he finds a group of people collecting at the bridge.

If his chest was not already tight, it would be in a suffocating vice by now. Visitors… There are rules to follow, and Link refuses to go against them. For five years, he has perfected his persona and adhered to the protocol assigned to him. Has it a need to crumble so soon? Link squints to get a better look at whom all has arrived to his residence, taking up the entirety of the bridge.

Cece is the first he spots. She’s not hard to find, not only for her eccentric clothing but for the fact that she stands at the very front of the crowd. Right beside her is Reede, accompanied by his wife and child. Sophie is the next he sees, and in her arms is… A child?!

The rest of the crowd is a blur of those he knows and new faces. Link covers his eyes, shielding himself from the stares of the men just as he was told. Under his breath, the Hylian tells Orienta, “I cannot talk to them right now! You know the rules!”

Orienta bites her cheek, her strong hand going to her hip when she turns her body at an angle. The handmaiden is half facing Link and the crowd, her attention split between the two. As the people wait for a reaction, she mutters, “I don’t think Lord Ganondorf will mind should you speak to the vai only. He will see them when he comes out with the princesses and have to speak for himself eventually. Come; we will address the vai alone.”

Of course, she knows Ganondorf well. Link can hear his deep, accented voice in the back of his head, reminding him to maintain his royal image and be the queen he has always been. That would mean talking to them… Well, some. Some of them. He tilts his chin up, back straightened and hands in front of himself as he walks in tandem with Orienta.

In his approach, the citizens of Hateno whisper, some with light tones and others with trepidation bringing a shiver to their voice. In the desert, Link is accustomed to the preferential treatment he receives because of his station, but here? In Hateno? Absolutely not. Their shock and awe in seeing him is unnerving, filleting him like he were no better than a shiny salmon caught in the middle of a pond. A rare sight, yes, but also a worrying esteem that has Link’s heart squirming for familiar comfort.

Their final steps take them to around six feet ahead, keeping a relative distance between both crowd and royalty. Orienta slams her spear down, standing to attention with a fist to her chest. “Announcing His Highness, Queen of the Gerudo, Link Dragmire!” She falls to one knee, fist still to chest and head bowed.

They’ve practiced this routine many times before, particularly in trade meetings within the inner palace. Link’s experienced this professional encounter for half a decade, but never has he gone through the steps with anyone other than country leaders and his own people.

The stereotype of the Gerudo being an isolated people never made sense to him when he was younger, but living there and being in the shoes of an important figure, he can see why they’ve been so isolatory. That shock of returning to the rest of Hyrule is unexplainable, crushing his ribs and setting free the school of fish that flock to their oceans.

Narrowed eyes keep watch as those on the bridge bow and curtsy, paying their respects. Link’s stomach churns, though, not like it does whenever Ganondorf touches his back or kisses his lips. No, this time, it’s oddly acidic, burning his fragile insides to revert him to the Hylian civilian he used to be. He really shouldn’t be bothered; this is what he goes through in the desert. It’s normal for royals to be treated with dignity like this.

Murmurs fill the crowd, everyone’s attention focused solely on Link while Orienta rises, lowering her fist and scowling. “His Highness is only allowed to speak to the vai of your kind. All voe must keep proper distance or be detained and tried with assault on a royal. You have been warned!”

Looks of stunned Hylians and confusion spread throughout the crowd, dispersing the men to leave behind a line of women. Cece, once more, stands in front, acting as mayor while Reede stands away. She clears her throat, fanning herself as she smiles at Link. “Ah, w-welcome, Your Highness! We cannot express enough what a pleasure it is to see you at last!”

Link wants to be back in the well, performing the ritual; Ganondorf is probably wondering where the hell he is and what’s taking him so long. But he plays the facade, waving a hand dismissively and taking charge. One hand sticks out for the fashionista to shake, covered in the familiar designs of that rotted arm.

“Yes, it has been quite some time since we last had a conversation. I apologize for the delay, ma’am, for we have been swamped with personal and professional matters. I am sure you understand why we haven’t dared to step foot outside our territory.” He deliberately looks at Sophie's child, then back at Cece. “You… did hear the news, am I correct? Or has someone spread falsehoods?”

Cece clasps Link’s hand in her own, shaking it firmly, but when Orienta glares at her, she lets go and instead holds his fingertips. “Forgive me, Li—Your Highness, but are we… meant to kiss the back of your hand?”

“No.” Orienta makes it a point to interrupt, tightening her hold on the spear. “Contact outside of handshakes is forbidden. Drop his hand. Now.” And her tone alone is enough for Cece to squeak and drop it, stepping away.

“Apologies! Goddess, me, it seems we have lost our heads after these past… five years, has it been?” Seeing her scratch the back of her head with that ridiculous hat on is almost enough to make Link laugh, but he catches himself and holds it in, maintaining decorum. “Well, as for your question… We were told that you had children?”

Hearing the mention instantly brightens Link’s mood, hands clapping together and sitting right above his heart, where his words can truly be channeled. “Oh, Din, yes, I did. Three lovely princesses, Cece. The pregnancy was…” His mind trails off, the memories of his pregnancy sparse and hard to recall. Lingering emotions of sadness and hatred pop up here and there in his cavern of a heart, but Link forces himself to see the wonderful aftermath and laughs. “The pregnancy was such a ride that I cannot remember it all!”

Everyone’s eyes bug out of their skull, their mouths having dropped open. For a moment, he fears they might even drop to the ground and bury underneath. Link wasn’t expecting a reaction so bold, but Sophie takes over and claps for him.

“That’s wonderful news, Link! They must be spitting images of you!”

Spitting images? Link raises a brow, spinning toward Orienta with a raised finger and opening mouth. “I… do not understand what that means.” Returning to the crowd, he coughs and steadies himself. “They are not spitting.”

“Your Highness, I believe she means they must look exactly like you.” Orienta, too, suppresses a laugh, but stops when Link grumbles. How could he be so stupid as to not know what that metaphor meant? All throughout life, he’s had difficulties understanding certain phrases and emotions, but in the desert, Link has flourished. The Gerudo are expressive and blunt, always making it clear what they want and mean. No one singles him out in his land, understanding of his communication needs as they, too, think and behave just as he.

Returning to Hateno means returning to a form of communication that he still, after 129 years, has failed to get a grasp on. It’s as though he’s taking a step back from the growth he’s made, his thorns being snipped to make him smooth and safe as he was before. Regardless of how it has made him feel, Link laughs, awkward and stilted, and nods. “No; our precious girls take after their father more. The Gerudo all have strong genes, and our princesses are the prime example of that.”

“What are their names?” Another woman asks, wringing her hands and constantly staring at Orienta, observing her every breath.

“Lord Ganondorf will announce their titles once they arrive at the residence.” The Gerudo handmaiden says nothing more, allowing Link the chance to announce whatever it is he wants. The conversation can either continue or stop where it’s at, and the chill in Link’s spine says it should end right then and there.

It’s creeping; the dread of what could happen if he doesn’t return to Ganondorf in a timely manner. They’ve already had their troubles with Link not being punctual to dinners and court session, albeit, before the girls were even old enough to walk. Recalling his past transgressions against his husband and the result of them rattles him, his hands and legs trembling as he puts on another smile.

Breathing in, Link gathers himself and closes his eyes. “It is… lovely to see you again, but I must take leave. My husband and I are preparing to pray with the princesses, then we shall return to give proper greetings.” He bows, waving his hand when he rises. “I thank you for allowing me this gracious morn welcome.”

They all appear as if they want to say more, jaws shifting and mouths wriggling with unsaid questions and farewells. What can they say? Having not seen Link for so long, only to be met with his changed self must be astounding. Link is stunned himself from seeing all the new children in Hateno, and if he’s taken aback himself, then they must be, too. He doesn’t blame them, since the feeling is mutual.

A hint of regret eases its way into him, but Link shrugs it off with a roll of his shoulders and a swift turn away from the crowd. Orienta accompanies him, finally smiling now that their public display can come to an end.

“I think we handled that rather well. What do you think, Your Highness? Should I have retrieved Lord Ganondorf?” She lowers her spear, her grip lessening and face softer once away from the crowd. Link pinches the bridge of his nose; he’s not quite sure what they could have done to make things go better, but not being with Ganondorf was a risky move.

“No, I don’t believe so. He would have…” Link trails off, then bows his head and opens the door to his home. “He is busy with the girls; he’s more worried about the ritual than coming out and performing diplomacy. I don’t fault him for that, to be frank.” He moves, giving space for Orienta to stand in the doorway.

Having been in a rush to get situated when they arrived, Link hadn’t the proper time to see the current state of his house.

It is untouched, just as he suspected. The Gerudo who moved ahead during the journey to Hateno installed a new bed and three little ones for the triplets downstairs. Where he used to keep a desk and important documents are said beds, lined up and hidden from view of anyone who dares to enter.

Good. They are safer this way.

Having enough coherence to place the bag for the ritual in a safer spot, Link finds it nestled in a corner atop the chest with the girls’ clothes. He rushes to grab it, snatching it off and holding it in his palm as he focuses on Orienta. “Thank goddess for the chest, otherwise, I would have lost them,” he mutters, cuddling the bag close. “Then again, Ganondorf could always find what I need within seconds.”

Orienta closes the door once they leave with a pleasant chuckle coming forth from her chest. “Indeed; His Majesty knows best. We have spent many years learning this lesson, haven’t we, Your Highness?”

Lesson… Yes, Link has come to understand the importance of Ganondorf’s wisdom. Having been through the hard times when he misunderstood every word, it brings him joy to recognize that he’s learned and made their relationship better. Forever ago did it seem that they would never get to this point, but as the girls have gotten older, Link has adapted.

Being with Ganondorf gives him life; the very air he breathes is Ganondorf’s gift to him, a blessing that Link appreciates more than anything. When before he found his appreciation in the sorrow, now, he finds it in his family. No sorrow has weaseled into him, erased as he came to accept Ganondorf in each form. All that remains is happiness and bliss, every fiber of his being having given itself up to the hands of his beloved erastes.

“And look at where we are now, Orienta. Successful leaders with three daughters… I never dreamed life could be so spectacular.” They walk up to the well, Orienta lingering behind while Link holds the drawstring in his mouth. He gives Orienta one final look, waiting for her to give a reply or anything of that sort.

She does. “And to think you once denied fate… You’ve grown up pristinely, Link. Lord Ganondorf has never been prouder.”

Hearing those words—proud and pristine—gets him blushing. Sometimes, he forgets that Ganondorf takes pride in him, eager to show off his completed progress and the delicate creature he’s become. Idle in thoughts of his husband loving him and worshiping each step he takes on hollowed ground, Link slides down the ladder, landing below with a light thud.

Before he faces his family, Link stays still, glued to his place. The bag still hangs from his mouth and the girls are happily welcoming him back, but the lack of any reaction from Ganondorf has his guts twisting into a knot that wants to pull itself apart.

Flowers wilt from lack of attention; Link isn’t any different in that regard.

He manages to squeak out after releasing the bag from his mouth, “Please, don’t be livid. Orienta and I had to fend off unexpected visitors before I could go into the house. I’m sorry, erastes, I tried to get in as quickly as I could, but they were—.”

Thick and calloused, familiar hands pluck him from his spot, lifting him into strong arms, nestled neatly in the bend of an elbow. Ganondorf crouches to take the bag, setting it onto the desk with the photographs. “We do what we can to avoid the tasteless, do we not? If that means forcing our way through niceties, then so be it. As long as you did not break the rules…”

Link waves his hands around wildly, a flower flailing in the harsh wind. “No! No, never, you know this. Orienta made sure there was distance and that no voe spoke or even glanced my way. It was…” He hesitates, mulling over the right words to reassure Ganondorf. “It was wretched having to speak to the vai without you.”

Ganondorf stifles a boisterous laugh, pulling open the bag with one hand. “‘Tis because we work better as a pair, eromenos. You support me, I support you. Haven’t I told you this from the start? All of our court sessions must be getting to your head… It seems we needed a vacation more urgently than I was led to believe.”

Vacation… Link lets out a relieved sigh, body slumping. “Yes… But, Ganondorf, it is terribly difficult to adjust to the customs of Hyrule after so long… They expect me to know their metaphors and ways of speaking and… Goddess, please, give me the strength to abide by royal duties.”

The girls are brought over with just a simple look from Ganondorf, all three lining up in a neat row in front of them. Chuckling, Ganondorf sets Link down, to then situate the ritual materials. “We can add that to our prayers, if you wish. The Four will surely give you what it is you seek most… I know they’ve done that for me.”

Each stone is laid out in a circular pattern, complete with four candles; two at the top and two at the bottom. Alongside those come the vials of magic, handed down for generations in the Dragmire bloodline… Or so, Ganondorf says. They all contain what’s necessary to worship The Four properly: a burst of air; water that steams; a flame that burns a fiery red; and a black cloud that has the most delectable of scents.

“Annora, Elaria, Zeka; take your places, girls. Mama will kneel next to you.” And each child stays in their neat row, only moving to rest on their knees and place their hands together. Ganondorf, still smiling warmly, crouches down, bows his head, and kisses Link on the cheek. “Our prayers today are special… For your parents, our strength, and not just our wellbeing but our people’s… The Four will be quite pleased to know we continue our worship in a foreign land.”

The Hylian toys with his hair, lashes fluttering as the two exchange heated stares. Link can hardly stand to be enticed with no reward behind it, but he steps away and kneels with his daughters, palms touching. Zeka’s eye peeks open, and Link snickers, placing a finger over his lips. She grins, closing it and returning to her regal position.

Assuming his spot directly facing the stones, Ganondorf spins and angles his hands in such a way that the candles light, their flames blue and brightening the well. In Gerudo, he starts the praying ritual with the typical, “To the blessed Four, who gift this world with their knowledge and strength; we come to you today to honor your benefaction that you have bestowed upon us. For without you, there would be no world for us to embrace.”

So strong is the glow of the candles that Link can see it without having to open his eyes, waiting with bated breath for Ganondorf to perform the next step.

A vial with the potion for air is opened, the liquid pouring into the inside of the stone circle. Bursting through the well, everyone’s hair is blown back by the rush of wind as it takes over the small space. Ganondorf straightens, arms spreading and palms twisting upward.

“To Farore, who gave us the ability to grow our families and nurture our crops. We humbly ask of you to honor the Queen’s family and give them everlasting peace. May we continue to fulfill your wish of continuing the bloodline and upholding our dedication to your grace.”

Quietly, Annora giggles with the wind tickling her neck, squirming but never opening her eyes or hands. In the meantime, Ganondorf uses the following potion, summoning the steaming water for the next goddess.

“To Nayru, who guides us in our next steps toward bettering our kingdom. We hand over our gratitude to ask that you lead us down the path of prosperity for our people and ourselves. May we continue to heed your call as we bring honor and justice to the Gerudo.”

Then, a burst of red colors their vision, the monstrous—yet harmless—flame of the last goddess having been conjured.

“To Din, who grants unto us our power and our dedication. We offer our reaping to ask of you to grant the Queen, our children, and I the strength to endure our journeys. May we continue to rule with dignity and conviction in your name.”

Finally, the well grows eerily serene, everything darkening as the black cloud twirls up and covers the entire space. After the three Golden Goddesses comes the final of the quartet, a God that only ancient Gerudo worshiped. Ganondorf and his teachings have swayed Link to the side of honoring said God, despite not recognizing what his name means.

All of them bow deeply, their faces blank and relaxed while Ganondorf utters the God’s name in his archaic language.

“To Nalusa Chito,” and at the announcement of his name, the others repeat it, reverent of the sheer power their final God brings. Link shivers; he’s never learned the translation of the name, but he senses a connection between them. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a god or goddess before, and as unnerving as it is, Link feels tranquility in his prayers to him.

“You have gifted us the power of connection; of pure passion. Without you, our family would not exist, for you have ensured that we come together as one. Our children, forever a symbol of your gift. The Queen; my Eromenos, sent to us by your hand. For years, you have continued to secure our destinies and fates, and so, we ask of you one thing.”

Link and the girls ready themselves for the prayer they have repeated over the course of five years, smiling. The blond’s skin prickles at the ghostly sensation of fingertips running along his face, going down into his arm until they reach his hand. He imagines it as Ganondorf’s, heating up when the fingertips turn into a fierce hold on him, so reminiscent of his husband.

Din gives them the pride and certitude that they seek when it comes to praying to the Nalusa Chito, the five of them speaking in unison, “Keep our family together; seal away those who wish to destroy what you have so lovingly built for us. May we eternally yield to your generosity and gifts.”

Some of the words are misspoken or cut off by the girls, but nevertheless, the cloud sends a strike of lightning directly in the center of the stones. Accompanying it is a deep laugh, akin to thunder as it echoes in the well. It doesn’t matter how many times Link has heard it or felt the phantom graze over his flesh, for he always receives goosebumps in exchange and a racing heart.

Hushed and obeisant, the family ends their prayers with, “Ome!” Completing the ritual brings an end to the cloud, sending it back into the circle and lighting the candles just as they were before. Link shakes his head, veil swaying along with his hair while he drops his hands.

“A wonderful prayer as always, erastes,” Link gives his compliments first, standing and skipping to Ganondorf, where he wraps his arms around him as best he can. “Thank you for including my requests… I think The Four will cast their light upon us in the coming days. Why, I would, too, if such glorious words came to me from you!”

The triplets rush to their parents, wrapping their arms around them and laughing. “Mama! Did Nalusa Chito hear us?! Did he like our praying?!” Elaria jumps, ecstatic that they made it through their weekly ritual. Having neglected it during their tedious trip, it’s nice to finally have the chance to properly worship their deities.

Link pats her head, lips still lifted, his pleasant attitude showing on his face. “Yes, he did. You three did so well today! And now, we can have some fun before lunch!” He would cheer, but for the sake of giving his family the affection they deserve, Link’s arms remain where they are.

Ganondorf, bless him, is subjected to the other two climbing him, hanging onto his sirwal and swinging. “Pop Pop! Look! We’re bokos!” Annora announces proudly, not afraid to call her Papa by his (incorrect) nickname. Zeka follows suit, uttering his nickname quietly and snickering alongside her sister.

To entertain them further, Ganondorf furrows his brows and pouts, pulling a face. “Hm… Did I hear little bokos address me improperly? I can smell them near…” Which gets the girls shouting, dropping from his legs and darting to Link.

“Mama! Save us!” Zeka cries out as she hugs him, still crowing mischievously with Annora taking after her. Despite their playful teasing being just that, Elaria shoots them a dirty look and harrumphs.

“Don’t be mean to Papa! Be nice and loving! Mama said so!” Her defensive streak… It never fails to amuse Link. Never did he think his children would be similar yet different to himself, all three sharing traits that only he and Ganondorf would notice.

In the midst of their argument, Ganondorf gathers the ritual materials and stuffs them inside the bag, closing it. “We should get going; the Somyr festivities await us. Unless these little bokos would rather stay inside a damp, musty well…”

They collectively shout “No!” and sprint to the ladder, Annora already climbing it. Link snaps his fingers, walking to her. “Not without Mama and Papa first, my dear,” he reminds her, helping her down and sighing. “Would you prefer riding on Papa’s shoulders while we climb?”

From the way her face contorts, Link takes it as a yes and turns, twinkling at Ganondorf. “I think these bokos would like to be carried by their favorite Papa, hm?” He tilts his head, his cheeks still painted with the rosy color that Ganondorf adores.

Zeka, still beside Link, cranes her neck to see him. “Mama, can I climb behind you?”

He doesn’t mind, nodding, and waits for Ganondorf to situate the girls on his neck and shoulders. The Gerudo’s massive body has enough room for each girl to hang from, but Link would rather not push his limits. Ganondorf is in his sixties, and his age is growing more evident as the years pass.

For starters, his muscular body has grown chubbier, still toned but definitely representative of his role as a father. Link can’t get enough of it, obsessed with the change and always reminding Ganondorf of his fervent attraction. Riju calls it his “Dad Bod” and teases him with the description, but nevertheless, Link loves it.

And his hair! On each side of his head is a thick patch of grays, meshing into the back. It’s also sprinkled throughout his beard, another trait of Ganondorf’s that makes Link drool. When Ganondorf braids it—like he has today—it becomes more pronounced, threatening to send Link into a spiral of lust if he isn’t careful.

Snapping out of his daze, Link follows Ganondorf while he climbs the ladder, taking Zeka with him. He didn’t notice before, but Ganondorf holds the bag in his mouth, too. Great minds think alike… It’s because we work as a team, just like erastes said.

When they touch ground, Orienta is the first to greet them, along with a band of their personal guards. Annora and Elaria both get ready to drop from Ganondorf, but one guard is quick to grab them, grunting.

“Princesses, I urge you to b-be more careful!” Her hideous voice shouts, settling the two on the ground and sending them over to Link.

He knows who this guard is… unfortunately. Poisonous sapphire irises shoot a nasty glare her way, arms folding across his chest while his daughters gather around him. The woman’s head lifts, and she scratches her scalp, chuckling. “Sorry, Your Majesty! They were about to fall! I was only trying to…” She’s already circling to Ganondorf’s right, showing an immature form and cowardly grip on her spear.

Ganondorf stops her by lifting his hand, a few coughs getting him ready for his answer. “No need to worry, Bryn. It doesn’t matter who is closest at the time when we need them catching the princesses. Their safety is more important to us than the matter of whomever grabs them.” Over his shoulder, the Gerudo asks, “Isn’t that right, eromenos?”

Bryn… Stupid, childish… I would rather she fall into the well than touch my children!

“Perhaps.” Link maintains distance from the guard in training, switching his attention to Orienta. Anything to distract him from his horrid thoughts is wanted; needed, and he chooses to escape his mind by going to not only the Gerudo who is his handmaiden, but a close companion.

Orienta raises a brow while Link strides toward her, his light approach turning vicious in a matter of seconds. Controlling his reaction to those he dislikes is easy, but with Bryn, Link can’t resist the urge to sneer and scowl. And because of that, the triplets notice and silence their giggling.

“Your Highness, should you need an escape with the princesses for a moment—.”

“Speaking to you and being with my daughters is what I need.” Once with Annora and the rest, Link drops to one knee and holds his arms out. “Mama’s not mad at you all; I’m just hungry and ready to eat!” And it’s convincing enough that all three grin, chattering with each other about what they want for breakfast.

Taking her place and guarding Link, the handmaiden exhales deeply, planting both hands on her knees. On the ground lay her spear, within reach should the need arise. “Your Highness, remember what we discussed. Children like Bryn can be dealt with like it’s nothing… You know this.”

He grimaces; Bryn deserves to be abandoned and forgotten. If she wants to spend all her time with Ganondorf, contending for his attention while tossing Link aside, then she can take being left in the dunes. Link imagines her being mauled by the moldugas, her existence forever a memory that his husband wouldn’t recall.

A fist is made, torso tight with tension. “Indeed, but I favor the route of reminding her of her place. She’s immature… Juvenile!”

“Yes, yes, she is. I’ve heard her discussions with the other trainees… The vehvi seems to be hard on herself more often than not.”

Link scoffs, on the verge of cackling. “As if it is any of my concern! Appears as though that is more of an excuse to get out of hard work and productivity! She is consumed by the concept of maintaining attention… Wishing to consistently be front and center while taking my place at my husband’s side!”

Orienta rests her hand on Link’s shoulder, another click of her tongue resonating in the air. “I would say she has many hard years ahead if she does not straighten up her act. One’s role as a guard requires sheer perseverance, and if what I hear is correct, then she must move past this… moodiness of hers.” She leans down, still keeping a respectable distance between her face and Link’s. “She wants a reason to be hard on herself… Should she continue wishing for said reason… I think it is your right to give her one. I’m certain that she would quickly ditch her pitiful act once someone as highly esteemed as yourself educates her on true rationales for presumed worthlessness.”

Presumed? Orienta, you are a mad woman! Is it not so apparent as to warrant being the truth?!

“Well! In that case, I will give all thought to what I shall tell her if the need arises. A lowlife like her trying to steal what is mine… She is privileged to not be tried with treason!” Link closes his eyes and digs the nails of his deformed hand into his palm, taking measured breaths. What good will it do him if he gets so beside himself before they begin their activities? A sour stomach would bring a pause to his hunger and Link refuses to avoid the joys of eating.

Repeating endlessly are Orienta’s words, his disagreement with her use of “presumed” grating on his nerves. Bryn is worthless; she’s a farce of a woman who hides her disgust for Hylians from all except Link.

Oh, he’s seen the way she looks at him, reminding him that she doesn’t like his kind. If she could say it to the others, she would, and Link doesn’t need it to happen to know it’s true. Juvenile wastes like Bryn are too open; too obvious!

His hatred feeds on hers, concurrent with the disdain they hold for one another. Pictures of flowers and beetles drum up in his daydreams, fighting the other for their assured survival. His favorite flower—snapdragons—snap their petals, mimicking the motions of a feisty molduga; the beetles—representative of Bryn’s shit-eating self—click their limbs, hoping to snip off the snapdragons’ petals and take what makes them unique. Compared to an insect that touches shit, snapdragons are a heavenly creation; a blessing to Hyrule from Farore.

“Mama, what’s for breakfast?”

“I want frybread!”

“Um… Mama, can we have shak… shak… eggs?”

Link releases his fist and lets the presence of his family give him peace, resting his head on his palm. “We’re going to try something new today, my little cacti. Can you guess what it is?”

All three scrunch their faces in deep thought, twirling their hair. Elaria’s is straighter and smoother than her sisters’, wearing double braids with a silk fabric weaved in the strands. The fabric strips are crimson, matching the hints of color in Ganondorf’s outfit.

Annora’s hair, similar to Zeka’s, is thicker and curlier, pulled into twin buns. The ties used to maintain their shape are red with decorations patterned with the Dragmire family crest. Link has tried and failed to properly wash and style her hair, but the women back home have continued to teach him routines and tricks. He is getting better, but he still has room to improve.

Zeka’s is a good mix between curly and straight, still thick like Annora’s but easier to style. The princess doesn’t mess with her hair as much as Annora and Elaria, allowing Link to untangle it with his fingers and use conditioner to accentuate the curls. Near her forehead, he’s put two clips, also shaped after their family crest.

Each girl has the bold red locks that Ganondorf has, the strongest of his traits that’s apparent in them. Their skin, russet-brown, glimmers in the sunshine from the lotion Link put on them to keep them moisturized. And their eyes vary between them: bright blue for Zeka, golden for Elaria, and greenish-blue for Annora.

They’re perfect; sweet gifts that serve as proof of Link’s love for Ganondorf. He made them for his erastes, and no one else could take his accomplishment and make it their own. No one.

“Eggs?” Zeka guesses, her mind still training on the protein they often ate back home. Link chuckles and exaggerates a wondering expression.

“You’re close… There will be eggs, but what else? I’ll give you a hint: it comes from a pig.” He’s curious to know if the girls remember the animals they taught them about; how they read bedtime stories to them with farm animals and insects alike.

Still concentrating deeply on their answer, Elaria tosses her hands in the air and grumbles. “I don’t know, Mama! Tell us!” And the laugh that he has to hide is thick and joyous, threatening to burst through the seam of his sealed smile. Expectantly, the rest of his daughters look at him, not outwardly showing their irritation like their sister.

Link holds up one finger, teeth beginning to appear alongside his smile. “It’s called bacon. Bacon is a piece of meat from a pig, and we cut it into strips before cooking it in the frying pan!” His explanation is met with loud gasps, the new knowledge being embedded in their heads. This may be their next favorite food, or it may be the next piece of food that makes them throw up. He mourns the day that he will have to clean up vomit again; a child never makes a cleanable mess in that regard.

He and Ganondorf have tried to educate them on most of the native animals to both the desert and Hyrule, but a pit in his heart begs him to teach them about the sows and the boars further than they have. Never before has it been so important to help them learn about the dynamic between two loving beasts; a dynamic that creates a connection stronger than Din herself.

Racing and bubbling, the blond’s fragile heart goes into a tizzy whenever wandering to thoughts of his and Ganondorf’s love. Back when he was younger, he resented their coupling, wishing death upon his husband. Using the word “boar” as an insult was the only attack he knew how to use when physicality failed. Oh, the days when he was an ungrateful brat…

Ganondorf is a boar, yes, but he is a good boar. Undying love and protection is offered to Link in droves that none would dare to give him. The present of his husband’s devotion is their children, reflections of their dedication to nurturing their relationship. Stronger; better. They can always be better than before, a lesson Ganondorf has taught him over the past few years.

Most feral hogs in this damned world wouldn’t give their sows the attention and obsession they deserve. They roll in their own shit, consuming garbage to fuel their fatty bodies. Their existence is a blemish on Hyrule, a plague waiting to be removed by those who live life properly and with class. His erastes, the prime example of what any man or boar should strive to be for those surrounding them.

Blessed to have a man as in love with him as Ganondorf, Link steps back into the moment and watches their daughters discuss the new food with one another. A few feet away, Ganondorf has finished discussing inconsequential routines with the guards and makes his approach, form going from tense to lax, stance matching one that he typically takes when around them.

Elaria squeals when she sees him, running over. “Pop—Papa! Papa, we’re eating bacon! Mama told us about bacon! Will you eat, too?” She jumps when she finally gets in front of him, arms outstretched so that he can pick her up. And like any good father, Ganondorf obliges, scooping her up and holding her in one arm.

“Indeed, Ela. New tastes are good for shaping your growing mind; why do you think I have all of these gray hairs?” He points at the obvious aging in his hair, waiting for anything she may give in response.

Intrigued by the observation, the girl touches his grays, pulling at some and threatening to undo the thick braid he’s done. Ganondorf, unbothered, side-eyes her and hums. “What do you think? As you get smarter, your hair goes gray.”

She whips her head around, attention now centered on Link and where he stands. Narrowing her gaze, Elaria snaps back to Ganondorf and points at the blond. “Then why does Mama not have grays?”

So shocking is the statement that Link cackles, shrugging in return and covering his mouth. Elaria doesn’t need to be discouraged from learning, leaving laughter to be an inappropriate reaction. Link is already messing up by having let one out, but he hides it better this time. Both girls, luckily, give him enough of a distraction to dull his laughter.

“Mama is the smartest there is. You see how pale his hair is? That’s because he is so smart that his hair turns as pale as the dunes.” Ganondorf sends him a hungry stare, hiding it once Elaria looks in Link’s direction.

Link nods, then rises and takes Annora and Zeka over to Ganondorf. “Papa’s right. But, back on topic… We’re going to eat bacon and eggs, but we will eat other foods, too. Hateno has a lot of yummy meals for us to eat! Isn’t that exciting?” When he feels the tug on his haori—not having to look to know who it is—Link picks Zeka up, cuddling her. Annora stays in the middle, not choosing either parent.

The guards, overhearing their conversation, motion toward the home, led by Orienta, who clears her throat. “Your Majesty, Your Highness; I believe now may be the most opportune time to get into your home. The crowd by the bridge has dispersed.”

Thank goddess. Link feels some semblance of peace return through his breathing, tender flesh becoming desensitized and adjusted to the routine he’s used to. Encountering crowds of people that he hasn’t seen in five years is… harder than he believed it would be. Add on to that their constant questions and lack of awareness regarding Ganondorf’s rules, and you have an overstimulated, agitated queen.

He feels no better than a lynel in the wilderness, disturbed in his comfortable habitat by a group of hunters. A select few of occupants in the wilderness are accepted, but as the new, unfamiliar Hylians begin their journey throughout, he’s placed on the edge of a canyon cliff.

Ganondorf acknowledges Orienta’s suggestion, leading his family through the well-trodden path to the front door. As they stand there, Link hides his face in Zeka, embarrassed that his outdated decorations are being presented to his husband.

Potted plants that still maintain life—strange, truly—and a wreath in the center of the door that, as noted previously, has been bleached by the sun. Link tries to get a good look at Ganondorf to gauge his reaction, but instead, the Gerudo gives a half-chuckle and opens it.

“You have a way with decor,” he’s nonchalant, escorting Annora into the house and making sure Link is in before cutting off contact with the rest of their entourage. “I am interested in knowing how this has been maintained in your absence.”

Link, lifting his head from Zeka’s shoulders as she pats his head reassuringly, blushes and stutters weakly. “I… I think Cece has… She must have taken care of it in the hopes that I would return.”

“And you have,” Ganondorf murmurs, slight disdain tainting his tone while he sets Elaria on the floor and goes to the chest. “We’re here, in the flesh.”

The blond lets Zeka down, taking three steps to Ganondorf before clinging to his legs. “Please, forgive me for suggesting we come here. If you deem it appropriate that we take our leave, then I shall pack everything and get the carriage ready. So help me, Farore, I will—.”

But he isn’t given a chance to finish his plea to reasoning, met with the loud thud of a knee dropping to the ground, shadows crawling over him. Link almost breaks his neck to match Ganondorf’s stare, holding it despite the growing chasm in his gut. Thorns, sharp enough to prick flesh and bring blood, lace the lining of his stomach and stretch into his esophagus.

Speaking right now is unwise, a choice he would have made years before. Link was taught better than to not give Ganondorf a chance to speak. Even if he has to wait for hours and hours, Link would rather do as he was taught than to go against what Ganondorf has carefully set up.

“Eromenos… We won’t be leaving. You asked to come here…” His hands creep down until they’re grabbing at Link’s, raising them to his mouth. “I’d choose here over the snowy highlands, scalding mountains, or… Ugh… Those damned Zora.” Ganondorf places chaste kisses along each knuckle, never looking away from the Hylian.

Ganondorf’s dislike of the Zora would make Link laugh, but the trepidation of stepping on a landmine still lingers, keeping Link on his toes. The kisses quell a margin of fear, but not enough; never enough. At any moment, the trust and respect they have built up could come crumbling down if Link doesn’t watch himself. He has to be aware of everything and anything, even his own heartbeat.

“You made the right decision requesting we come to this… Hateno town or… Well, no matter. We are here now; we will enjoy our vacation and return home with a renewed sense of work ethic. Our children will appreciate this and cherish it for years to come.” Which, Link cannot deny. The girls would remember coming to a new kingdom, the thought of which helped ease Link further.

The heat of Ganondorf’s lips tingles, skin calling for more when he pulls back and smiles. “There is nothing—absolutely nothing—that I want more than to be with my family. And you said it yourself: we’re going fishing and to the nearby field. You said that those… plants of yours grow there, right?”

“Yes,” Link won’t fault Ganondorf for not remembering the snapdragons, seeing as they’re more than rare in the desert. “I want to make flower crowns from them for the girls and… and…” Link shuts his mouth, bashful in how he uses his bangs to hide his face.

Neither has to say anything; Ganondorf’s been aware of what Link’s intentions were with the flowers. That has been a benefit to him reading his diary, the devious man still playing it up like he’s never touched it before. If that were the truth, then he wouldn’t have known about Link’s wishes to go fishing with the triplets.

He loves it; how Ganondorf never needs an explanation, always finding it on his own and moving forward from there. Link would attack anyone who goes near such a personal journal, but with Ganondorf, he recognizes the affection hidden within. It’s a form of love, desire; a way for Ganondorf to adjust to what his eromenos wants.

Couples typically don’t share this type of intimacy, hiding things from their partners for no reason. Why have privacy when the other can learn what you like and dislike most? Link has nothing to keep away from Ganondorf aside from his lustful desires, far too humiliated to properly showcase his thirst for the older man.

Bringing him closer by tugging on his hand, Ganondorf wraps his palm around Link’s waist, rumbling. “Everyone will see our immaculate family that we have worked so hard to build. For years, we have been subject to rumors, relegated to the desert, where we hide our accomplishments. But coming here… being with you… Eromenos, think of how jealous they will be; they are.”

Tugging and straining—the molten lava snake that secures itself between their hearts is leading Link to Ganondorf’s chest, settling his fingertips over his pectoral and standing on his toes. Their faces turn, adjusting to the proper angle, ready for what has been the standard since they began loving each other.

“We are the portrait of impeccability, you and I. Loving parents, worthy rulers, and generous folks… None can be like us. And coming here gives us the chance to flaunt it… You want them to know our superiority, don’t you?” Ganondorf drops Link’s hand, grabbing at his chin, possessive and tight in his hold.

His body aches for Ganondorf, pushing forward to maintain some contact as their breath wafts over the other’s face. Rippling across his flesh like growing crops, goosebumps trail over his arms and into his shoulders, chilled by the arousal that simmers in Link. Eyes flutter shut, lips plump and ready for the taking as he digs his nails into Ganondorf’s chest.

This is his answer: his submission evident by everything save for words. What Ganondorf experiences is Link’s truth, mirroring his erastes and presenting it to the world. They’re examples of what it means to be truly in love, feral hunger driving him to part his lips, not a word escaping.

“I want them to… No… I want Hyrule to see what we’ve made of ourselves. My beautiful jewel, shining so brightly. My soft flower, glimmering with pollen. My eromenos… virginal and devoted. Always…” Their mouths touch, sealing the snake and creating an ouroboros, everlasting. Link’s eyes grow moist at the corners, reciprocating anything Ganondorf feels but tenfold.

This is the life I want. This is the life they can’t have. This is mine. He’s mine!

Lost in their exchange, they’re torn from the tender moment by a high-pitched screech, followed by, “Pop Pop! Mama! Ann jumped on the bed!”

“Did not! Mama, Ela’s lying!”

Nowhere in their tattle-telling is Zeka’s voice, only her tiny shadow growing as she steps out of their bedroom—under Link’s upstairs—and pokes her fingers together. Nervous, the little Gerudo whispers, “Um… Mama? Po-Papa? They’re fighting ‘cause of the beds…”

Reluctant, Link moves from Ganondorf, who rises with a crack of his joints and a deep groan. “Alright, we’ll go look.” Ganondorf pops his knuckles, hissing at the painful relief as Link marches forward, ready to remind them that they each get a bed of their own and to be nice.

Annora and Elaria… They have been fighting like this since they were three. The terrible twos were a nightmare with them, seeming like they haven’t grown out of the fighting and arguing ever since. Link never fought with Aryll as much as them, but he has to take into consideration that he was nine when she was born.

Times like these are when he needs to remind himself that he is a first time parent, starting with no experience and finding out along the way. Link isn’t like Bryn; he pushes through everything no matter how uncomfortable it makes him. Ganondorf asks that he do so for him, his motivation being to please his erastes and give him the pride he deserves.

“Push through this for me, please. You support me, I support you.”

Motivation is easy to find whenever he recalls Ganondorf’s pleas, steps becoming stronger as he steps into the girls’ bedroom. Come to find out, Annora and Elaria are standing on one of the beds, jabbing fingers in each other’s faces and squabbling. All Link does is clear his throat—loudly—and they freeze, both swiftly facing Link.

“What did I tell you two about arguing during vacation?” Link keeps his tone firm but never furious, level with the way he approaches discipline. Ganondorf stands in the doorway, arms crossed while he acts as a barrier between Zeka and the scolding unfolding ahead.

Immediately, the excuses come flying out.

“Mama! Mama, she was trying to push me off!”

“No! Mama, she was trying to make me fall and get a boo-boo!”

“I was not! Mama, Pop Pop! Ela is the bully!”

“That’s enough,” Ganondorf takes over the conversation, the firmness in his voice having more of an effect than Link’s. Equally, they sound domineering, but with Ganondorf’s voice naturally being deeper, the girls are going to respond better to that. When scowls turn into worried glances between one another, Ganondorf shakes his head. “We said no fighting while we’re having fun. This is a vacation, and we both told you that vacations are for making happy memories.”

Both girls are pouting; Annora climbs down and holds her hands in her lap, head lowered. Elaria drops onto the bed, mimicking her father in folding her arms over her chest and looking away. Neither speaks and Link rubs his face; these petty fights are only going to get worse, and they haven’t even been in Hateno for more than an hour.

“Zeka is being a good girl—she’s been quiet, respectful, and the proper princess she knows she is.” Stepping aside, the king reveals their reclusive daughter, who covers her face and runs to her mother for shelter. To Link, the reminder that he is seen as a safe space for his daughters raises his spirits, another continuous motivator for him to stay on the grind.

Life has a funny method of getting him to do what it needs him to. The duty of protecting and raising his children is innate, drawn forth by his paternal instinct that had blossomed after they were born. Believing himself to forever be destined to serve as a knight, Link sees the truth now; realizes that his true purpose in this blessed life is to be a mother and ruler.

I’ve always been fated to be Ganondorf’s eromenos. So green… So ripe for the taking.

Keeping to themselves, Elaria whispers under her breath, “Sorry, Ann…”

Annora returns the apology with, “I’m sorry, too, Ela… You can have the nice bed.” Slowly, the little girls smile, pigtail braids flopping when Elaria hops down and gives Annora a hug.

This civility won’t last forever—Link can already guess when the next tizzy of theirs will happen, likely when they eat breakfast. And, speaking of breakfast, the blond wriggles his nose when the familiar scent hits him.

“Gan, did they… make breakfast?” It’s not that the Gerudo making them breakfast is unusual, but when it comes to them cooking Hylian cuisine… Unexpected, honestly. A suspicion, gratifying and twisting into a deluded hope, swells in his feeble mind. Did Ganondorf order this? That is, if what he smells is really food and not just a conjuring made by his mind.

Nearly instantaneously are the triplets captivated by the mention of food, crowding around Link and Ganondorf, grinning. Ganondorf stares at his family before nodding once, gesturing outward. “They’ve placed it in the oven to keep it warm for us. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I didn’t… Did they leave before we stepped foot in…” But with Ganondorf sneaking his hand to his shoulder, his curiosity is stomped out. All that is left is to indulge in a meal he’s been dreaming about for months! No matter who has made it, Link will be quite fulfilled having had the delectable foods that the desert, unfortunately, does not produce.

The gratitude Link wants to show to his husband is overshadowed by the growling of his stomach, of which makes their daughters laugh in unison. That damned stomach of his sure has a funny way of embarrassing him in the company of his family! Even to this day, whenever he smells the faintest of hints of tuna-fish rice balls, he drools until he gets to them. The addition of fire fruit hasn’t stopped tasting delicious, either; a mixture that he’s been hooked on for as long as the girls have been alive.

Upon entering the—slightly renovated—living space, Link presses his hand to Ganondorf’s hip, leaning into him. “I will get breakfast situated; you simply sit with the girls and wait for me. I promise, I shall not take long.”

It’s a promise. Link devotes himself entirely to performing his proper duties as a wife when necessary. Technically, being dutiful is needed during every hour and second of the day, for Ganondorf should wait around for nothing. Goofy it sounds to most, but to Link, it is an oath that he continues to uphold through any challenge.

Unlike certain women, Link’s strength shoves him along. Mind, heart, and body, all experienced and adept at doing whatever it takes to secure his family’s good standing and excellent health. Ganondorf could demand that he get down on his knees and kiss the ground with each step he takes and Link would obey.

In the layers draped over himself, the queen skips to the oven, not forgetting the mitts so that he doesn’t burn himself. They’re decorated with horses, embroidered by Cece when he returned from… somewhere. Link can’t remember where he was that warranted a return, but he can always ask her about it later.

Big trays rest on the racks, filled with plates and platters that bring about the saliva that Link was worrying over. Presented to him—his family, too—and sat out for him to dig into… That food is going to throw him into a deranged frenzy, shoving all that he can into his mouth. Snickering with a hint of mischief, the Hylian grabs them both, walking to the table.

“I hope you all are hungry… These were my favorites to eat during family gatherings! Nothing is better than gathering around the table and feasting with one’s closest and most cherished relatives.” He takes care in how he slides the platters onto the tabletop, pulling off the mitts and setting them to one side. “Resist temptation for one moment, please! Mama’s going to grab your plates and utensils.”

As the girls shout their acknowledgements, Link grabs enough plates for them all, carrying them in one hand while he grabs the forks and knives. Ganondorf must have thought ahead, finding the children’s knives in the drawer with their own. No fear of accidents for him!

He sings a small tune when he sets each down in front of them. Ganondorf comes first, accompanied by a kiss when his plate and everything is placed. One by one, the girls get their own, their greedy hands reaching for the various foods until Ganondorf reminds them to exhibit patience, like good princesses.

Can they blame them? If they were going to take on more of Ganondorf’s traits, then it was only fair they have a ravenous love for food like Link. Somehow, he thinks it's due in part to his feasts during his pregnancy. Can such interests and likes fall onto one’s children? When he stares at them, he clearly notices it; he sees visions of himself at their age, doing just as they do.

Link sits by Ganondorf and adjusts his own cutlery and plate. Having everything in place and prepared for their feast, the Hylian dishes out various foods on the girls’ plates, explaining what each one is.

Scrambled eggs, bacon, muffins and pancakes… All of it sparks their interest, timid at first but soon shoveling the food into their mouths and making a mess on their shirts. Link can’t help but laugh at the scene, turning to Ganondorf at one point and holding his fork up.

“They have our appetite.” He makes the comment casually, though he’s said it a million times before back home. Pointing out the cute quirks of their children is a favorite pastime of Link’s, and whenever Ganondorf gives that half-smile, he knows that he’s appreciative of it as well. Link places a hand on Ganondorf’s arm, leaning over to look at his plate. “Do you have enough to eat? I will share some of mine if you need.”

His husband stabs his fork into a chunk of pancakes with wildberry syrup drizzled on top, lifting it. “I have plenty… ‘Tis my eromenos that requires more sustenance than I.” Golden, the sweltering gaze aiming at Link gives him pause, watching the fork as it comes down to meet his lips. Link parts them—no resistance—and gently takes the bite.

Hiding right about now is what he wants, but Ganondorf is showering him with affection. Link won’t give that up for the sake of hiding his flustered state, choosing to hold his mouth and look away. Having swallowed, a meek voice breathes out, “Th-Thank you, erastes…”

Catching in his vision are the triplets, who share bites of what they like and don’t like. Annora hands over her boiled egg, and Zeka gladly pops the entire thing in her mouth. Elaria, meanwhile, shares her hash browns. Knowing her, Link suspects that she would prefer them if they were more compact and round, but that method of shaping them isn’t common.

The guards and attendants did their research—obviously; he doesn’t have to point that out—and because of it, they would have seen that the Hylian way of cooking hash browns is to either form a patty or strips.

Appreciative of the attention to detail he is, but he laments that Elaria hasn’t given it a chance. Both he and Ganondorf are willing to try new things, and so are Annora and Zeka, but Elaria? She’s growing to be a picky eater… if she wasn’t already.

Zeka, in the meantime, isn’t sharing her food. She eats most of it, leaving small ends occasionally but eventually coming back to finish them. Of the three, her appetite is inline with Link’s, an exciting prospect for sure!

“How are you faring, my hungry seals?” Ganondorf asks, gathering another chunk of food and wordlessly feeding it to Link. He has no complaints; who wouldn’t want to eat more food, especially when offered so freely?

“It’s tasty!” Zeka, surprisingly, is the first to respond, picking up the remnants of her boiled egg and grinning. “It tastes like eggs at home! Mama, Pop Pop! Can we have this forever?” Sneaking, Elaria drops another pile of hash browns onto Annora’s plate, swiping her wildberry muffin.

Not a single piece of pancake is left behind, the bottles of syrup near empty from how much they put on their flapjacks. It’s hard to tell which one was used the most, but if Link had to guess, it would have been the fire fruit one.

Amazing… They’re able to get jam out of fire fruits! Sweet with a hint of spice… Like mother, like daughter… Just as it should be. He sighs happily as he indulges in his extras, watching on while Ganondorf continues the conversation.

“We may certainly try to make more of these foods back home, but remember: the vegetables and meats and fruits here are different from the ones at home. It’s harder for us to get them, since they have to be brought from here to there.” He points in the direction of the desert to emphasize the distance, but Annora looks at him oddly.

The other two do the same, and as the leader of the group, Annora asks, “Then we can get them and take them home with us? Lots of them!” Which is the cutest thing Link has heard since the trip to Hateno—filled with childlike wonder and genuine curiosity, a question so reminiscent of his early days with his parents.

Ganondorf, humored, shrugs and sets his utensils down. Link’s plate is spotless, and Ganondorf’s has turned that way, too, thanks to the blond’s assistance. “They would need to be stored properly and kept fresh. Coming here took a long time, didn’t it?”

They nod.

“Exactly. So, the food would have to go through that long journey. And we didn’t bring the right storage for the food… What does that mean?” The question is rhetorical, but it gets the girls to bow their heads and pout, collectively answering that it means the food can’t go.

Link decides to chime in. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t send some of the kind workers here to get some for us! If you ask Orienta nicely, she might talk to her friends and help us out!” While the suggestion is mainly for the girls and to help them feel better, Link will take the chance to ask her himself. The prospect of eating Hylian cuisine back home is too tempting to pass up!

Each of them cheer, bouncing in their chairs. With joyous babbling over the food trades taking over the silence, the king and queen turned to one another and smiled. Ganondorf’s face grows lax, bending himself to get close to Link. The pop of his shoulder joints causes concern, Link touches him, concerned.

“Is everything alright, Gan?” He’s careful, walking on fields full of guardians to ensure his husband is content and comfortable.

“Yes, yes; forgive me, eromenos. I merely… am not used to being surrounded by Hylians.” Venomous, hateful; the disdain for Link’s kind stings him, but he masks it with a knowing smile, resting on his arm.

“All will be well, erastes. They won’t disturb us so long as Orienta and…” Saying her name will disgust him and ruin the moment, so Link chews and swallows that pill and moves on. “With everyone around us, we won’t have to worry about… cretins coming our way. I… I won’t let them near you.”

Possessive and nasty, Link holds back his avarice; holds back the insanity that he seals away in his soul. He’s done so well for Ganondorf and their children, and he refuses to let loose all because of an inferior whore who wants to steal his man.

A shaky breath sucked in through gritted teeth slams him back to their family time, scowl lessening and muscles loose. “You needn’t any troubles in your glorious head. I am your shield and sword…” He turns to the girls. “And their shield and sword. You are my… Oh, this is ridiculous to say, but… You are my pack.” Link smacks his hands onto his face.

Saying they are his pack is outrageous. Too many mannish goons in all of Hyrule try to claim they are similar to wolves, and Link has forever loathed the description. As if any of them could sincerely believe they are as dominant and powerful as a wolf… Only Ganondorf is!

Yet, it was the best description he could find, albeit while in the middle of a discussion with his brain not exactly all there. Link wants Ganondorf to remember that he isn’t anywhere near those goons of the world; that he’s truly dedicated to being the protector when needed.

Rumbling pleasantly, the chuckle that Ganondorf lets out is accompanied by him grabbing Link’s hands, tearing them from his face.

Underneath are beet-red cheeks, spreading into his ears and neck. His freckles are nearly masked by the deep rouge, and his tanned skin takes on a sunburnt appearance where the blush is showing more. Link whimpers, his ears turning downward ever so slightly as Ganondorf licks his lips.

“Eromenos… Please, I beg of thee, resist making yourself so delicious at the most infelicitous of times. There is only so much reticence that I can exhibit, especially when…” He trails off, readying himself to say something but holding it back while Link looks at him with big, puppy-dog eyes.

What was he going to say? Ganondorf is keeping Link on that tightrope, jostling it around whenever he feels, just to get a reaction or lead him on. This game they play of mystery and chase thrills him, reigniting the luscious memories of a game they played long ago. Link struggles to recall the specifics, but what he does remember is that it was their first time playing a game of chase.

Thrilling, verging on exhilarating when he did indulge in the playground activities with his husband—Link wants more of these moments if only to relive his youth. He is getting up there, on the cusp of turning thirty in the coming year. His mid-20s have been a mixed bag of experiences, but he’s cherished the latter half for what it has brought him.

“What?” Link asks, breathless, and grips Ganondorf so tight that he’s afraid he will pop him. “What is it, erastes? Is it something I’ve done wrong?”

Ganondorf, tilting his head, makes a face. “Something you’ve… ? No! No, never. You behave so beautifully, my desert flower. It is… I would loathe to spoil the surprise. Just know that tonight…” The girls are still occupied with their breakfast talk as Ganondorf smirks, gaze sharpening like a spider finding its prey on its web. “Tonight is for us, eromenos. The day shall be filled with familial fun and memories for the girls, but for you and me? Tonight will be a… grandiose feast that not even this morning’s meal could compare to.”

Implications. Taunting obscurity. Such a way with words… Link tingles, both horror and arousal meshing into one singular physical reaction. Ganondorf terrifies him and always has, but that perturbation gives him the high that rushes straight to his groin.

Shifting in his seat and covering his squeak with a cough, the man smooths his hand down the length of Ganondorf’s arm and smiles, teeth showing. “Ah! Erastes… You make me feel young again!”

“Again?” Ganondorf scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Link… pure sapphire of my crown… You are forever young. The naif faerie that I met back in the hot spring remains before my very eyes… How could I ever, ever see anything but? Your mind is filled with fallacies that I cannot comprehend…” His hand, having come up, traces a finger down Link’s heated face until it reaches his chin, where he angles it upward.

It’s godly; sitting there, graced with the sight of his husband in pure, arrant love. His ardor, fierce and beyond compare, tempting him from beyond the mortal realm. Link is star-struck, words failing him when Ganondorf pulls away and runs his thumb over Link’s lips. “We must go to the festival if we are to have time for everything on today’s schedule. I’ll get dressed; you fix up the girls. Bryn and—.”

Link brings his hand up and his face switches in an instant. “I know.”

“My petal… I just bled my heart and poured it into your chalice, and yet you dare to assume I have eyes for that harlot?”

That was… true. Link huffs and grabs Ganondorf’s hand, settling it over his heart. “You have seen my rage toward those who become close.”

“And I oh, so adore it. However, it is unwarranted. Give it some time; Bryn will move in the ranks and leave us behind. Orienta would slaughter her if she were to dare interfere with us; don’t tell me you doubt that, as well!” He’s not bothered by the assumption, jeering at Link, who does take this as seriously as Ganondorf sees. Embarrassed, the Hylian makes a litany of noises and scoots back.

By now, the girls have returned to wanting Mama and Papa, throwing questions at them that Link can’t make sense of with the ringing in his ears. Luckily, by now in his adventures in parenting, he’s learned how to give them answers that satisfy while he is preoccupied. It staves off their curiosity and genuine interest for just enough, allowing Link to go to their coffee table.

Ah… That’s what Ganondorf was talking about. She must have left these wet wipes for us to clean their mouths. Link looks over his shoulder, startling when he’s met with the chubby cheeks and bright eyes of his daughters. He squints, trying to find the debris on their faces that might interfere with their decorum.

At the corners of their mouths are chunks of hash brown and smears of berry, matched with the stickiness from the syrup. All of their hands are covered in the same mess, and when Annora reaches for her shirt to wipe them off, Link rushes to grab one wrist, stopping her.

“My little cacti! You must get cleaned first. Sticky hands ruin our clothing, remember? Here, Mama has some wipes to clean you up.” With him gathering a couple, the girls keep still, doing as they were told and waiting for Link to wipe off the gunk one by one.

Of the three, Zeka is the messiest, which comes as no surprise. She had been the one to eat most of the food given to them, turning into something Link is going to tease Ganondorf about later. And to think Ganondorf assumed Zeka would share his appetite! Link chuckles to himself when he finishes cleaning up the messy food left behind; each looks just as they had before, this time sparkling and smelling of aloe.

The shuffling of clothing from behind the bathroom door has him whipping his head around to see what Ganondorf is doing. Seeing as the door is closed, that leaves only one option, so he shouts, “I’m going with the girls to meet with Orienta! Is that okay, Ganondorf?”

“Wait for me!” Ganondorf hollers back, jiggling the doorknob and coming out. Link’s jaw nearly drops, those sapphire eyes of his on the verge of popping out and leaving behind a trail of awe-inspiring lust. The Gerudo rubs his arms and torso, grumbling under his breath. “Damn these blasted Hylian clothes! The material is nowhere near enough to adequately fit. Do they not account for voe of all sizes?”

What can Link say? Ganondorf wearing a yummy outfit that accentuates the lines and hardness of his abs is only limiting the words that he wants to speak. None of them are appropriate to be said in the girls’ presence, far too obscene to meet even the filthiest of ears.

He jerks his head from side to side, ridding himself of the daydreams that will haunt him throughout the eve. “Um… I, uh… I would believe they do, but I suspect not. I can direct your grievances to Cece and work out a deal where she sews some new clothes for you.”

For a moment, Ganondorf seems clueless and oblivious to Link’s ruffled state, murmuring something incoherent and pulling at the light turtleneck. “It is no bother to me… Somewhat. For now, I will adhere to these standards and wear…” Then, he trails off once he notices Link and his flustered appearance.

Grinning and switching to a sly demeanor, the king makes a low noise. “And wear this get-up. If my wife likes it so much, then who am I to deny her what she finds attractive on me? Eromenos, the confidence you give me when I am growing geriatric is unrivaled!”

Their old age has become a point of insecurity for the both of them, but Link is eternally grateful for Ganondorf’s reassurance that he hasn’t lost his youth. And in return, Link gives his husband the same compliments. Not that what he says isn’t absolute honesty; Link does find Ganondorf attractive. He’s already clarified this.

Aging sumptuously, still as massive and chiseled as ever, and becoming hateful toward those who were younger… Link loved each aspect of Ganondorf’s supposed “geriatric” state.

He picks up Annora as Zeka holds onto him once more, turning toward the door. “And I, as well. Our jolly spirits will only make our memories brighter, isn’t that right, my little cacti?” Link is cooing, his voice pitching higher than it usually is. Only when Ganondorf sets off his adoration does he get like this, the feminine side coming out in full-force.

With Ganondorf and Elaria close behind, they leave, not having cleaned up the mess. Guilty does Link feel, but they’ve been doing this for so long now. He used to offer to help, but Ganondorf quickly remedied that misbehavior, reminding him that it was their job to clean their messes.

Link loathes allowing someone else to do his work for him. Had it been Bryn who was subjected to scullery duties, then he wouldn’t mind. But with it being the good, honest guards, the pity for the lower class takes him over and doesn’t ease until he’s distracted.

Expectedly, some of the Gerudo go into his house, spears absent and cleaning supplies in their place. The Hylian resists the urge to spare them a glance, his distraction coming in the form of Orienta.

Short, straight red hair that reaches her chin sways when she leans down, snickering. “Your face is pink, Your Highness. I take it Lord Ganondorf’s outfit is most pleasing to the lone eye?” Her teasing never helps with his prior embarrassment, making Link squeak and bring Annora closer, the latter laughing and comforting her Mama.

“Or-Orienta! Do not surprise me like that… You know I am sensitive to sudden appearances.” Another round of images clouds his vision—a darkened room; a desk with a bouquet of flowers placed at the proper angle; a sword resting against the wall. Link swears he hears Ganondorf’s voice at his neck, whispering into his flesh about smelling something intoxicating.

It’s as though his scales are flipped back, the butcher preparing his knife to complete the filleting. Link has already laid his eggs at the shore of the pond, but the butcher wants to turn them into caviar; wants to take the salmon for himself. He squirms, readjusts Annora, and composes himself.

His handmaiden chuckles warmly, ready to say something until Zeka draws her attention with a, “Miss Orienta? Do you know how we can get food home?”

She raises a brow. “What do you mean, Lady Zeka?”

“Mama said we don’t have Hy… Hi-lee-an food at home and that we have to bring it!” Annora helps Zeka in her answer, taking over for the stuttering child. “But we don’t have good storage and Mama said to ask you.”

Orienta rubs her chin, nodding to their words. “Yes, your Mama is right. Transporting Hylian food to the desert is hard, and we didn’t bring the right storage for it.” And when the princesses' faces fall, Orienta is quick to add, “However, you are in luck. We have nice vai coming here to get things we need once we leave—your Papa made sure of that.”

They light up, gasping and fighting to get closer so they can hear more of what Orienta has to say. She smiles, just as any family member would, and points at the nearby guards. “That’s right, and those vai over there are the ones who will tell their friends to come here. You have Papa and them to thank for the food going home with us.”

Zeka shouts, jovial, and pulls on Link’s clothes. “Mama! Mama, did you hear?! Miss Orienta’s friends are bringing the food home! Can we have the hash browns?”

It is unlike the young girl to be loud and eager to speak, but it’s likely because food has become a fun topic for her. Link can’t help the loving smile that appears when he thinks of his daughter acting just as he does, reaching down to pet her head.

“Yes and yes, we can. See? Miss Orienta knows a lot! What do we say, girls?”

Thanks and happy exclamations are given, and the Gerudo laughs, giving thanks back and deferring to them. Zeka, as a result, returns to her coy state and Annora throws her fist in the air, looking at Elaria from behind and putting on a wide grin. “Ela! We’re gonna get Hi-lee-an food at home!”

“Yay! Thank you, Mama!” The other princess declares, then, finishes whatever she was talking to Ganondorf about.

His happy family holds Link back, thankfully, and makes it so that he isn’t paying attention to Bryn. Her voice is a nasty flea in his ear, off to the side, but it doesn’t sound close to Ganondorf. If she maintains her distance, then there won’t be any trouble. That was the only promise he would make to her.

Orienta moves to the front of the group, stabbing her spear down and performing her basic, dutiful movements. “Women! Stand guard! We are going to a nearby Somyr festival. There will be various Hylians and children; remember the rules.”

Every guard recites them at once: “No voe goes near our queen! Protect the princesses at all times! Serve our royal family with pride and honor!” They bow simultaneously, waiting on Ganondorf to give his approval.

Once he does, Orienta relaxes and calls the second-in-command over, putting her in her place. “Take us there, just as I showed you this morn.”

She takes over for the handmaiden, beginning the escort while Orienta returns to Link. He appreciates her seriousness, the subservience nothing like Bryn’s. Orienta is proud and audacious to a degree that comes close to Ganondorf’s. One might believe they were siblings—they certainly treated one another as such—but the fact was that they shared a few traits here and there.

Her being Link’s personal guard comes as a surprise to none when her behavior is taken into account. Link needs someone who can be violent where he is non-confrontational at most times. His violence only comes about when there is a threat to his children or Ganondorf, as is his knightly nature. Orienta, however, will grow violent toward whoever threatens him or his relationship with Ganondorf. It’s a fitting trade between the two of them, taking over for what the other cannot perform.

There is a threat, he reasserts, She’s over there, sitting in wait for everything to crumble by her hand. I ought to wring her neck; the bitch is lucky I have no idea where she lives, or else I would sneak in there and—.

But is there any time to be consumed by thoughts of savagery and acrimony? Link has to take many pauses to regather his being, ignoring Bryn and the memories that she stirs up. One youthful woman had already attempted to take his dear husband; Link isn’t going to let that happen again. She’s not special, just like that… other woman wasn’t.

Look at that! The other woman’s name is faded and ruined. Link grows giddy when the passing thought of Bryn becoming that takes him over for just a second. He’ll allow himself this one imagining, then, he will resume performing for the audience.

Soon, Bryn won’t be a single molecule in either of our heads. Oh, what joy! She’ll become irrelevant and all of that pitiful attention she chased all these years will vanish! Ganondorf will throw her away soon… He doesn’t like girls like her. She is just another beetle to toss in shit!

His discontent is nearing the act of blossoming. Once the weather chills and the desert becomes celebratory, all those who dare to touch Ganondorf are going to…

No. Link can’t think in archaic ways, resorting to his past violence that he’s buried since. Orienta could handle anyone he claimed crossed him, weeding out the fakes and copycats, leaving Link as the lone, original desert rose.

If one looks at it from a particular angle, they might see Link’s hypocrisy. Orienta is a gorgeous woman: her eyes, sharpened with lowered lids; her lips, plump but always in a flat line; and her jawline, strong yet indicative of her feminine might. Many times has she been approached by a voe on a diplomatic trip, trying to romance her and get into her pants.

Unfortunately for them, Orienta is just like Ganondorf. She speaks of having a Hylian man to claim as her own, not finding the right one as she believes most of them are disgusting. Her idea of narrowing down her options is nearly the same as Ganondorf’s, hoping to take one back to the desert to be with her.

And if her concept of love is anything similar to Ganondorf’s, then that Hylian man must be prepared for ferocity, possessiveness, and undying affection. Link hopes that she does find a man, just to give her the experience of being loved. She has them, yes, but Orienta deserves true love and a true companion.

When he looks at her, it is with saddened hope, turning back before she can notice the pity he gives her in silence. Should she see that he feels something akin to that in regard to her, she might be offended (although, the likelihood of that is rather sparse).

Either way, Link refrains from making another expression and goes forth, eventually arriving at the entrance to the festival, along with Ganondorf. The girls all take sharp breaths when they catch sight of the wagon and decorative lights.

Picnic tables are spread out in the center of the field, covered in tablecloths embroidered with the sun and clouds. Surrounding the edges of the designated field are pop-up shops handing out free food and samples. Cheese, jam and jelly, among cucco cuts and meals make up most of the stalls, already making Link’s stomach rumble.

Strewn above on the light posts are triangular pieces of fabric on a string. There’s no pattern on them, only colored blue and yellow to match the theme of the season. Link jostles when Annora pushes at him, ready to get down and run around with the other children.

“Patience, girls. We will go in soon, just spare us a moment.” Ganondorf is the one to calm them down, though not by much as their excess energy is still evident in their inability to sit still. Link admires Ganondorf’s strength as a father, bordering on jealousy as he, too, wants to get the girls under control with just one sentence.

The guard that took them there slams her spear into the ground twice, announcing in a loud voice, “His Majesty, King of the Gerudo, Ganondorf Dragmire, and His Highness, Queen of the Gerudo, Link Dragmire, have arrived! Please, make way for the royal family!”

After her loud voice rattles the crowd of Hylians, they disperse, allowing room for them to make their way in. Annora and Elaria are restless, swinging their feet. Elaria’s heels make contact with Ganondorf’s shoulders, and while an attack from something as small as her is light on him, he still winces at the kicks. Meanwhile, Annora knocks hers into the bulk of Link’s haori, which stops them from making direct contact with his body.

A small hand smacks Link’s shoulder, then, a tiny finger points out the festival. “Mama, look! That looks like a carriage! What is it?”

Link points with her, humming. “That is a wagon. It’s like a carriage but for Hylians. Remember, I’m a Hylian, too, so I rode in them a lot.”

She squirms, wagging her finger. “Can I ride it?! Please?! And Zeka can go! Ela is gonna stay with Pop Pop!”

“Now, now, Ann; Ela gets to ride in the wagon, too. Papa will take you three, and I will get us the tasty jams and jellies. We had those this morn, and… Oh! I forgot to tell you! We can bring the jams, jellies, and syrups back home!” Link boops her on the nose, laughing as she starts shouting her joy for all the world to hear.

Zeka, who has heard it from the side, stares at Link in awe and whispers when he looks at her, “We can bring the food home when we go?”

Bringing the food back home is the plan, but Link wants it to be a surprise, so he pretends to think really hard before shrugging. “I don’t know… We will have to see what Papa says.” He winks, which has the girls squabbling like cuccos and rushing to get their father’s attention.

It even gets Zeka to run over to Ganondorf, jumping onto his leg and begging him for the Hylian food. He startles when she does, and Link finds himself laughing uncontrollably at Ganondorf’s jumpscare. With a big man like him getting frightened by a small child, it’s hard not to find the humor in it.

With Ganondorf enthusiastically discussing the possibility of bringing back treats, Link places Annora down on the ground and crouches beside her. He points out the wagon again and rolls his shoulders. Annora, now looking, listens as he says, “You’ll ride with the other kids, and the driver is going to take you around the farm and point out the animals and crops to you. So, you’re going to learn about all kinds of animals and foods!”

Already excited about the trip, Annora sways from side to side, hands on her hips. “I’m gonna learn lots! And Pop Pop, too! Does he know about the animals?” Her eyes give him a glance, then, bustling with enthusiasm, she returns to Link.

He holds his arms out, met with a tight hug as Annora squeezes him. “Papa knows everything, little cactus. Ask him anything, and he can answer it, just like a wizard. And… he’s a warlock, too.”

Ah, yes… Ganondorf being a warlock. Many have accused him of being a druid, not realizing that those didn’t exist in any living realm other than the one of imagination. What Ganondorf is is far superior to any fairytales written by simpletons, his power in the dark arts insurmountable.

“What’s a warlock? Is Pop Pop bad?”

Is Papa… bad?

Link holds her, but doesn’t make a single move, the world discombobulating before him. Dizzying images of haunting faces pop up around the festival grounds, those nasty voices whispering into his ears such incoherent words. They speak of horrible, dishonest beliefs, as if trying to coax him into their side. Everything buzzes inside him, his organs not cooperating unless the butcher comes to fillet him for another time.

Ganondorf isn’t bad. He’s changed since then; we’re in a better place. If it weren’t for my good behavior, we’d still be on warring sides. Things aren’t like they used to be. He’s changed. He’s changed. Ganondorf isn’t bad. Ganondorf is a boar, and I’m his sow; that’s how it’s been for the past five years, right?

He doesn’t answer Annora’s question, throat closing up with a sickening sensation of needing to vomit. What is there to say? She should know that Ganondorf is the most loving, caring father in the world, and him being a warlock doesn’t change that a single bit. The evidence is right there for everyone to see!

Sure, Ganondorf gets frustrated easily and anxious whenever we’re somewhere unfamiliar, but he’s still the same boar I’ve loved all these years. He has my back, as I do his. I give him treats aplenty for his accomplishments, even one as simple as breathing. We support one another; it’s what a boar and a sow do.

Why is he continuing to justify his endless devotion to Ganondorf? There is certainty in their love, evident in their children and everything they do as one. He knows this—has known this—and still, he continues to doubt the substantiation like a flower does its death.

“Mama? Are you okay?”

Finally, Annora’s presence rids him of the blight of uncertainty, and he gives a gentle smile. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Worry not your silly head, little cactus! Papa is a good warlock, rest assured. If he were bad, do you think I would stay with him?”

She purses her lips, then shakes her head. “No… If he was bad, then you’d be bad, too?”

Him? Bad? Link, baffled, tosses his hands in the air and gives a short chuckle. “Sure, why not? But, no, I’m not bad, and neither is Papa. We’re the good guys because we take care of the desert and help our people. You,” he presses his index finger into the center of her chest, honest too hard to hide as he continues. “You are a good guy, too. You, Ela, and Zeka are good princesses. Remember that, my dear.” At the end of his declaration, he hugs Annora again, smothering her face in kisses as she explodes in a fit of giggles.

Interested in what’s going on, Elaria insists that Ganondorf put her down to go to Link, running once she touches the ground. “Mama! Mama! Are you having fun now?”

“Me? Fun?” Link stops his kissing attack, holding Annora with one arm and opening the other. “We’re talking about what good princesses you three are. Courageous, fierce, warriors who dedicate their lives to protecting their kingdom! Just as your Papa and I, you three shall follow in our steps once you are old enough.” He snuggles Elaria when she pounces on him, the little girl laughing along with her sister.

Zeka, dropping from Ganondorf’s leg, makes her way to the commotion and quietly takes part in the group hug. She uses the bigger half of Link’s haori to hide herself from the crowd, whispering, “I love you, Mama.”

Along with Zeka, Annora and Elaria say the same, nuzzling him and using the haori to mask themselves from anyone that may see. Link lets them, just so Bryn doesn’t bear witness to the joys of motherhood. And, to add, he frankly doesn’t want anyone else to see the amity of his children’s love for him.

Sacred, it is, to have an unconditional love bestowed onto you. It should be something only the beholder witnesses, forever blessed with what Hylia intends for them to have and to hold. And that, in his mind, isn’t a blessing the others deserve.

“I love you, too, my little clovers.” Link adores calling them sweet names, reserving it for them only. Ganondorf has his own nicknames, yes, but the girls get names that represent their piety. The difference between their nicknames and Ganondorf’s is so massive that it cannot be surpassed even by the largest of lynels.

Ganondorf meets them at their spot, towering above while he gives a sideways glance to the festivities. “Everything seems to be welcoming enough. Let us go to the wagon; have you decided on who is taking them?”

Link lifts his head, freeing the girls from their group hug and rising. “I expected you to take them, if only to keep me safe with Orienta in the meantime. Is that not what we should do?”

The Gerudo mulls over the suggestion, one hand on the hilt of his sword—in the sheath attached to his hip; Ganondorf never goes without it—and the other laying limp at his side. There’s a stretch of silence before he answers, “While your idea is preferable, I fancy you going in my place. I can watch from afar, and judging from the way that wagon looks, there will be plenty of room for Orienta to accompany you.”

Does he not know that there will be others riding with them? Link gestures to the wagon, reminding Ganondorf, “Children will be joining us. The wagon is for all of them to ride, since it's an educational activity.”

“So long as none of their fathers attend, then I have no issue with you going on that ride.” Which isn’t fair; all children are worthy of making lifelong memories with their fathers. Taking that away from them is cruel and unnatural, but Link gives no fight. What fight is there to have when it will only end in agony and the removal of love? Link tries not to remember those times, opting for the correct path instead.

Can he do much more than that? Not really, so he nods, switching his focus to the girls. “My little cacti, it seems there is a change in plans. Mama is going to take you on the wagon ride while Papa gets the jams and jellies.”

Each girl hollers, remaining by Link as Ganondorf snaps and holds his hand out toward one of the guards. “Which jams and jellies would you like?”

“Berries!” They cry in unison, which gives Link a spark of joy. He tries to calm them down by reminding them to be mindful of other children while Orienta and Bryn approach.

Mood on the brink of souring, the blond whips his head around, which doesn’t go unnoticed. The young guard molds her look into one of confusion as Ganondorf speaks. “I need my satchel of rupees. We will be purchasing goods to return with us.”

Obeying with a loud salute and running back to the others, Bryn vanishes and leaves Orienta behind. Ganondorf addresses her next with, “And you will be going on the wagon ride with Link and the princesses. I am certain you know the orders by now, no?”

Orienta laughs and plants both hands on her hips. “Have the past five years not drilled them into my head enough? If you think I need a refresher, then by all means, Your Majesty.”

Ganondorf’s smile is filled with familial affection as he rolls his eyes. “Wonderful as always, Orienta. It is vai like you that remind me of the good in our people. Each day I continue to be aware of why I assigned you to Link’s side.”

“You made the right decision, Your Majesty. I swear on my life to continue being the epitome of loyalty.” She salutes him, bowing, and swivels to face Link. “Shall we go, Your Highness?”

If it wasn’t obvious by the way that their daughters are jumping and holding back the urge to run to the wagon, Link nods. “Alright, girls, come with us. Be patient and be kind to everyone. Remember, we are visitors to new people, and we don’t want to give bad first impressions.”

They give their acknowledgements, though Link knows how trustworthy a young child can be when placed into a new, exciting situation. Their minds will be consumed with the enjoyment of the day, but if Link is there by their side and keeps them in line, then things should go relatively smoothly. At least, that’s what he’s hoping for.

Saying farewell, they follow Orienta to the wagon, where Cece awaits them, along with Sophie and her son next to her. He waves, reining his girls in as they approach. “Cece! Finally, we meet at an opportune time.”

“Right?! Seeing you healthy and… well, alive, is most reassuring! And… Oh, my! These must be the princesses!” She wriggles her fingers at them, giggling, and Link proudly presents them.

His pride may be getting the best of him, but he overindulges in it, standing straighter and tilting his chin. “Yes, ma’am! This is Princess Annora, Princess Elaria, and Princess Zeka!”

Cece and Sophie both coo, enamored with the sight, and Link grins. “My beautiful little clovers… I believed I was only having one, then two, but we soon discovered it was three!”

Sophie quirks a brow, her son hiding behind her while the triplets look on in interest. “I am still quite curious as to how you became pregnant… I thought only women could? Am I mistaken?”

“We used a potion,” Link asserts, keeping details sparse as he continues. “Ganondorf found it; it’s very rare.”

“A rare potion? How does that work?” Cece starts asking a litany of questions, which has Link shifting his weight and scratching the back of his neck through the veil.

Answering them will take too long, not to mention, Link wasn’t told much about the potion when he was given it. Ganondorf says that they met at the castle during one of their dates and that he gave it to him there; a mutually agreed upon decision to have a child together. And one child turned into three!

Orienta, thankfully, comes to the rescue. “Princesses, please, get into the wagon. Mama will be next to you. And, Lady Cece, now is when we would like to take a ride. His Highness wants to spend as much time as possible with his daughters today.” She’s steering the conversation elsewhere, rescuing him from a potential spell of heady visions and ghostly sensations. Those same sensations that bring nothing but despair to Link during the worst of times.

The girls get in with help from Orienta, who then assists Link. His small stature is nothing but a nuisance when it comes to boarding things like wagons and carriages. In addition to struggling with transportation, Link can never reach anything.

They’ve had things remodeled to assist Link in the palace, but not everything can be redone. While Hylians are significantly shorter than the Gerudo, Link has forever remained the anomaly amongst his own, tiny compared to them as well.

A fear of his is that the triplets will be cursed with his small size, but with them nearly being his height at their age, he sees a spark of light that says they’ll be tall like the rest of the Gerudo.

Arranging themselves to fit all five, Elaria ends up next to Sophie’s son, who trembles when she introduces herself. Seeing him behave like that and then seeing Zeka’s behavior brings a chuckle to Link’s lips, as the young Gerudo is squeezed between him and Orienta. She refuses to let go of him, staring at the outdoors while the driver spurs on the horses.

Wobbling, the carriage bows with their weight before equalizing, and Link, content, sings a quiet lullaby. Annora starts to ask about the crops they pass, getting explanations from Cece and Link alike. Corn, wheat, various vegetables are spoken of like they’re a brand-new invention in the world, astounding the girls. Even Sophie’s son is interested in the conversation, coming out of his hiding and softly talking with Elaria.

Rounding the bend, the farm comes into view, along with the school on the hill to their left. Details about the differences between Gerudo and Hylian schools come about, teaching not just the children but the other adults with them. Link grins—he’s behaving like a true parent, passing over lessons to ensure that the children of tomorrow know what he does.

Still prideful, he snickers in the midst of his descriptions and hugs Annora and Zeka tightly. “I guess living in the desert for so long really does teach you a lot… Makes you appreciate the little things in life.” He gazes wistfully at the countryside, reminiscing on his faded childhood and life spent in Hateno and the castle.

The wind blows his hair and veil, a strand being tucked behind his ear before he regains hold of Annora. With it comes the faint scent of a life long gone; of people who no longer keep his company. It’s a bittersweet recollection of his time in Hyrule, encountering small things that remind him of her.

Silent Princesses grow in a field around fifty yards from the trail they’re on. Along with them are swift violets and blue nightshade, the most glorious combination. Link swears he can see a handful of sundelions, serving as more justification for him to take the girls there when done with the ride.

To make things better, Ganondorf is going to be there with them, taking part in the activity. He’ll learn how to make a flower crown, where he will then place it atop Link’s head. They’ll kiss, spend time with the triplets, and then eat lunch before returning home. And if Ganondorf’s claim that he’s going to be with Link for the evening is correct… That means they’ll be alone.

Describing his giddiness as just that isn’t enough. But no other word exists in the world that can accurately pinpoint his anticipation. He hasn’t had a chance to be alone with Ganondorf for a while now; they’ve been too busy with royal duties and the girls.

Alone together. Link sighs happily, completely disconnected from the conversation that happens around him. Ganondorf has such a tight hold on his heart that Link feels his presence even in his absence.

His words echo in Link’s head, drowning out the voices of the damned that Link struggles to distract himself from. Ganondorf’s love calms the raging tsunami inside that threatens to splash his salmon self onto the shore. Link is forever dragged back from a tizzy that life pushes him toward. Any moment where he thinks he’s going overboard, Ganondorf manages to hoist him up, both physically and mentally.

They’re destined for one another.

“Ah! Mama! Cows!” Zeka’s shouting startles him, pulling him to the image of cows munching on grass. Cuccos and a dog run around the farm, feathers flying while the dog playfully chases them. Link chuckles, his daughters yelling over which animal is cuter. Distantly, he considers getting a dog for the family, having had dreams about himself in a green tunic playing with a small, black one.

If the dog in his dreams is real, then Link would love to find one and give it to his family as a token of his affection. That would complete their little dynamic that they have, making them a fully-realized family.

Orienta clears her throat, leaning down. “Your Highness, is the tour almost done? I see Lord Ganondorf over yonder, and it appears he has finished with his shopping.” Her next words come out in a hush, brows burrowing into her eyes. “And that little wench is by his side.”

Little wench… ? Wait! She means—!

He’s never whipped his head around so fast before, forcing himself to look at the scene unfolding at the stalls. All of his strength goes to willing himself not to jump out of the wagon and hunt Bryn down—the damned girl can’t stay away, can she?

Link struggles against thoughts of murderous rage, tearing her limb for limb and feeding her to the molduga. She’s younger—twenty-one, if he has heard correctly—and she’s prettier, which makes her public enemy number one.

She consumes him, a parasite that infects delicate flowers such as himself. Her mere existence is a plague on his very being that he wants to kill off. And it’s maddening—Bryn is spreading, creating a pandemic that he and his people can’t escape from.

A fist is made, his body quivering with unbridled, fervent hatred that wants to come out. Orienta notices, but when does she not? In tune with his feelings, a second mind for Link to turn to when he most needs it. Her hand holds him by the shoulder, the only way she knows how to calm him down. “Relax; we’re coming back to where we started. He’ll leave her in a moment.”

Gritting his teeth, Link breathes through his mouth, zeroed-in on Bryn and every little thing she’s doing. He’s obsessed, but he knew this already; it’s in his nature to hone in on pathetic, disgusting whores that want to take his man away from him.

But he leaves it be for now, setting aside his contempt and settling with his girls. “There are all sorts of creatures in Hyrule compared to back home. Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Elaria, too caught up in conversation with the little boy, says nothing, but the other two clap their hands. Zeka is the first to speak, chattering happily, “Yes, Mama! They’re pretty and cute! I like the cows!”

“I like the cuccos! I want to pet one!” Annora swings her feet on the edge of the wagon, humming the lullabies Link sings to them in the wrong note and pitch. Without their contagious joy, Link wouldn’t be maintaining dignity in the face of adversity. When Ganondorf isn’t there, his daughters are the only things that keep that mask on for him.

Setting a good example for his children and leading with a good head on his shoulders is what any worthy mother and queen would do. Link’s mask can fall in private, but never for long. He has to be the best, never to be replicated or taken over.

The ride back to the main space is uneventful aside from Elaria insisting that she stay around Sophie’s son. It takes some convincing, but eventually, he and Sophie come to the agreement that they can play more once they’re done in the field.

Only when they meet back with Ganondorf does Link find himself in the center of a mess. The conversation between husband and guard is clearly heard above all else, as though he’s a guardian focused on its target.

“I didn’t even know you used a spear or else I would have asked you!” Bryn grins like a sick puppy, her spear now in both hands as she cuddles it to her chest. She’s a stupid school-girl is what she is, behaving inappropriately for a lowlife in her position.

“Oh, yes, I use one. I have resisted using one for years. You see, there once was a woman in my entourage that tried to take me down, and I was overpowered due to my novice handling of the spear, making me disregard it as my main weapon. Not to mention, my elderly body refuses to coordinate with my mind.” Ganondorf is honest; open. Everything he should be with Link, but he’s giving it to Bryn instead.

Bryn makes a noncommittal chuckle, shaking her head sideways. “Using a spear is easier to imagine than to put into practice. Trust me, I was that way at the beginning, but I have taken on the mindset of “just do it because it's fun.” It helps me not be so… timid when it comes to improvement. Less harsh on myself, as well.”

“You can always strive to be confident, you know,” Link cuts the conversation in half, the mask having gone from happy mother to overprotective ruler. “Any good fighter would continue to push through these insecurities to finesse their skill. I would have presumed you knew that already, Bryn.”

She grows cold at his sudden reappearance, instantly straightening herself and coughing. “Your-Your Highness! You frightened me! Forgive me, we were only talking about…” Once she makes eye contact with him, she gulps and stutters. “But… Yes, I… I value your knowledge, Your Highness! A swordsman as skilled as you is what I aspire to be.”

Try harder.

Link would answer, but if it's nothing nice to say, then he shouldn’t say anything at all. And his silence has an obvious effect, getting Bryn to nervously back away, letting Orienta take her place.

“Eromenos! Girls! How was the trip? I take it no voe made contact with any of you?” Ganondorf… Always with his insistence on following the rules and keeping his family safe from men. Link, salty over the discussion he walked in on, folds both arms and raises a brow.

“No. Elaria made friends with a little boy, but nothing else.” When Ganondorf stays quiet, Link quickly looks between Bryn and his husband. “What was that conversation, may I ask?”

Ganondorf, in all of his grace, keeps track of where Link’s looking, clicking his tongue. “Just a pupil asking her teacher for advice. All of them do so when they get a moment alone with me.” Stepping up to Link, Ganondorf gets on one knee, holding his cheek in his hand. “Eromenos… Forgive me for daring to hold the attention of another and neglecting to notice your approach. Tonight, we will be our only worlds. She means nothing to me.”

He can’t say no to that, slumping and holding his hand. “Tonight will be romantic, right? Please, say it is so…” Link plays up his pitiful romancing, still honest but increased solely to keep Ganondorf all to himself. “And I was looking forward to it, too…”

As Ganondorf pawns the jams and jellies off to some attendants, he holds back a rumble of approval, his golden irises glimmering with a swirl of red. “And you may continue to look forward to our date. It will be unforgettable; never doubt me.” He drops his hand, occupying himself with the girls. “It’s time to go to the flower fields now, little clovers. Make haste, for the sun will grow tired if we hesitate much longer.”

They all follow him, the walk to the fields long and tedious but well worth it, in the end. When they come upon the vast expanse of a variety of flora, Link lets out a gasp so loud that Ganondorf stops in his tracks, his hold on Elaria and Annora faltering for a split second.

The sight is more glorious than he thought back in the wagon. Wild and free, all the plants blossoming in the field are divinely made, without fault. Their colors nearly blind him, light catching on them just right to cast them in their blue and golden hues. Link fears that taking a step into them might ruin their holiness, but there’s a well-trodden path splitting the field in half, so he goes down that.

Hylia meant for them to come here, as did The Four. His prayers to them come in waves as he finds a secluded spot suitable for the five of them. Orienta stays at the edge, giving them enough space to make true family memories.

Free from guards and tethers to their lives as royalty, they’re able to truly be themselves. Setting each girl down one by one, Ganondorf puts them in a neat circle before taking his place on one side, directly in front of them. Still in awe of the glory of Farore and Hylia’s teamwork, Link stands idle, taking it all in.

The desert has never struck him to his core such as the fields do, though, it is likely because he hasn’t been in Hateno—or Hyrule—for years. The world that he once knew has become foreign, trapped in historical accounts or artists’ portfolios that they purchase from diplomats. If Link wants to revisit the land he was born and raised in, he has to bury himself nose deep in pages upon pages.

Breathing in the air of the world from the pages is vastly different, a taste of the life he’s put behind himself. Link would move back to Hateno if he wasn’t a royal, but duty calls, and thus, he must answer.

Hateno is his birthplace; the land he called home; the town he made memories in with his own family. How could one not want to return to such a place? He places his hand over his heart, capturing all that he can before Ganondorf uses two fingers to call him over. Blinking rapidly, the Hylian rushes over and plops down beside the Gerudo.

“So… flower crowns. There are sundelions here…” Ganondorf mutters something, then, “And those are violets… Am I right? Mama has shown me the books he reads to you three, but I cannot remember if that’s what they are. Can you help me out, darlings?”

Ready to be the big adults in the situation, the girls confidently state which flower is which. With Link having read the books to them and shown the pictures an endless amount of times, it comes as no shock that they are able to identify them. Ganondorf must have known what they were; his wink toward Link implies so, and he giggles, plucking a few violets and sundelions.

As the princesses give their important first lesson to Ganondorf, the blond weaves together the first crown. Each one will look the same, varying in size to better fit everyone’s head. Imagining their faces when he shows them the finished product instills in him a euphoria never experienced before.

One by one, Link finishes the crowns, putting them by his leg until each of them has been completed. By then, the girls have finished informing Ganondorf of different types of flowers, now bothering him for stories about the land he’s not known for centuries.

“Look here!” Link blurts, picking up one of the crowns and holding it out. “I made crowns for all of you. The flowers are strung together by the stem and the petals take on the outer shell. Thus, they form a crown! Here, Zeka, you get yours first.”

He places it on her head, pulling away to admire the vision of Zeka blushing and snickering. Softly, the princess thanks her mother, and going down the line, Link gives Annora and Elaria theirs.

Varying in time, all three take off their crowns and flip them every which way to inspect the woven stems. Elaria tugs at them, but stops when Annora tells her it will “break” the crown. Zeka puts hers on after checking it, drawing her knees up to her chin. Annora holds hers in her hands, not saying a word, letting her face do all the talking.

Putting Ganondorf’s on is nearly impossible with their size difference. Standing on his toes will never get him to the height he needs, but Ganondorf—having noticed Link by now—folds over and lets out a rolling laugh. “A crown for me? You flatter this poor, old soul.”

Link squawks like a Rito, which makes their daughters cackle and mock him in exchange. “Old? Erastes, please, you are much too critical of yourself. A few grays and wrinkles do not constitute “old” to me. You have seen some of the elders in court… You underestimate your graceful aging.”

“Pop Pop is a grandpa, though!” Annora adds her two rupees and laughs louder when Ganondorf pulls the funny face that she loves. She’s not alone in her laughter, although Zeka hides hers with her hand like the shy chuchu she is.

Trying to put on his motherly assertiveness can’t happen when he’s entertained by their pure, fun-loving, innocence. Coughing to hide his snickering, the blond tries to teach them once more that, “Papa is your father, not your grandpa. Riju only addresses him as such because it’s funny to her. So please, call him Papa.”

Puffed up cheeks and rascally looks from side to side appear, the girls waiting until Ganondorf’s face returns to normal before shouting, “Pop Pop! Grandpa! Pop Pop!” Even Zeka has joined in on the shenanigans, using Annora to cover herself from Ganondorf’s play-pretend scowl.

In such a fit of thrill they are, it’s easy for Ganondorf to lean in, kissing Link on the cheek. Showing affection is difficult nowadays, since the girls will often make gagging noises or covering their faces while giving their disapproval. Typical of children, but it does make for an absence of soft kisses and tender moments.

Craning his neck to meet Ganondorf’s cheek, Link returns the kiss, his mood light compared to what it had been before. “I guess you are grandpa from now on, hm?”

“Wasn’t it just earlier that you claimed I am not old? Tell me, eromenos, what are these falsehoods you speak of?” The gaiety in his voice eases any building unease that might have taken Link over, keeping the moment lax and enjoyable just as it was. Face flushed, the queen holds his face and sighs.

“Oh, honestly, you fret over nothing. Worrying over your age as a goose does its egg… The girls don’t mean anything by it.” Link, feeling playful, boops Ganondorf on the tip of his nose, then leans in and presses his lips to it. “Think of how you were at their age.”

When Link was their age, he was already efficient with the blade, mastering the art of it once he entered puberty. All of that training from his father had come in handy when he finally made it into Hyrule’s army, moving up to knight, then personal protector.

His father had been the one to teach him, but Link didn’t learn he had been a knight previously until he asked him one day. Discovering a vital part of his father’s life that connected with his own was indescribable; a true joy that Link cherished still after more than a hundred years.

A farmer that had been a knight when younger… Link was following in his footsteps, abandoning the role of knight when he found that he was having children. Ganondorf says he left the Master Sword back at the castle for safekeeping, that way he wouldn’t be tempted to duel while pregnant.

That man has a wide variety of knowledge, filling in the gaps of Link’s memory from their first year together. Link, however, does have a journal with entries from back then, but Ganondorf told him that they’re heartbreaking. After all, they were written when he was still delusional and in denial of his amour for Ganondorf.

Questions over his altered state of mind remain, but Link stores them in the vault of his thoughts. Ganondorf needn't have a single concern over Link’s loyalty and acceptance of the events that happened. Link sees the proof is in his voice, how it calls to him like a siren in Lake Hylia.

Rumbling like thunder across the fields on a rainy day; accented to display Ganondorf’s unicity from the rest; and commanding like a lynel leading a stampede through the woods, his voice leaves no room for misgiving. That alone is why he makes a fantastic leader; that alone is why the Gerudo revere him and bow to him.

Riju, too, is taking after Ganondorf in her own leadership. She’s getting ahead, a full-grown adult coming into the role she’s had since she was a child. Link can see the progression, congratulating it any chance he gets. From the young girl so unsure of her place to the woman who knows who she is and what is expected of her; the change is staggering and impressive.

“I was a king in the making,” Ganondorf croons, grabbing Link’s bicep and tightening his hold to that possessive strength. “Learning what would become of me once I hit the ripe age of thirteen and practicing with the spears and scimitars… They’re on the same path as I was. Princesses soon to become queens.”

Link adds, “In succession. We have yet to decide which order they will obtain their titles. Of course, it is too soon to tell who will be fitting for the crown first once they’re old enough.”

Yes, it is too early to decide on which of their daughters will be queen first, but Link fears that Elaria will be last. She’s spoiled now, a typical situation for a child so young, but Link prays that she grows out of the Daddy’s girl persona and learns to share.

He wants only the best for his daughters, and if he had his way, they would be queens together, ruling as three. Their strengths will aid one another, picking up the weight where the other cannot, assisting them and continuing the path of redemption and strength for the Gerudo.

“All in due course, my desert rose. They will develop and fit into the mold The Four have built for them. No remaking them on our watch; I’d never want to destroy what they are, shaping them into what I’d foolishly choose.” The king’s lips meet Link’s this time, a tenderness unlike him that pulls Link into that ring of fire they exist within.

Unable to stay like that for the sake of keeping their desire hidden, Ganondorf leaves his lips and stares into a mirage of sapphire, gaze never changing. “Have faith, eromenos. The Four will protect us and bless us with everlasting luck. Look at what they have done for us now.” His head swivels to their children, then back to Link. “They have given us three cherished gifts; they have kept our relationship as it should be; and they have graced us with an opportunity for creating more memories than we have in the desert.”

Tears spring up in his eyes, droplets made up entirely of Link’s resolute ardor for his family. “Erastes,” he’s struggling to keep his voice loud enough for the Gerudo to hear, but he tries anyway. “Why is it that you are the only being in Hylia’s land to bring me to tears?”

“Happy ones, eromenos. And they are birthed because your heart is sewn into mine. Anything I feel courses through your veins like lightning in the clouds. We are one, as it was destined to be. You will come to appreciate the beauty in the rain, this I—.”

“Your Majesty!”

Hearing the bellow of Orienta has all of them spinning to face her, confused by the light jog and tight fists. “Your Majesty, pardon my interruption, but there is a voe who seeks to discuss trade with you. He says it will only take a minute.”

Ganondorf’s stare grows hard, the expression not unreadable. “And where is this voe who wishes to intrude on time with my family.”

“Over there,” she points behind, where he stands a fair distance away. “I advised him to wait until you gave the signal to return, but he was persistent. According to him, he is one of the mayors of this town.”

The girls, noticing Ganondorf slowly rising, try to grab at his legs, but Link stops them. Less than enthused, the king mutters, “I will be back, my queen; clovers. This shan’t take me more than a moment.” He messes with the collar of his turtleneck, shaking his head. “The audacity of these Hylians to dare to cause a disturbance… Orienta, come; Link will be fine.”

“Unattended?”

“I see no other voe aside from that rude gentleman there. But…” Ganondorf looks around, then nods. “Alright, stay here; keep an eye on him.” And with Link left alone with the girls, the Gerudo resumes his kingly duties.

None talk for what seems like forever, but when Elaria plucks another flower from the ground, she walks to Link and smiles. “For Papa?”

The crown! He still has it on… She must want to…

Link takes the flowers gently, holding them flat against his palm. “Why don’t we make him a bouquet? He’s going to love it.”

Forming their own circle of four, the girls start pulling flowers, giving them to Link, who then ties the stems together at the ends. A bouquet takes more effort than this, but Ganondorf will appreciate the gesture, nonetheless. It comes from his family; why wouldn’t he love it?

His hands, swift and excelling in working small threads, add them one by one. The sundelions give off a soothing scent when the wind wafts over them just right; the violets drop a petal each time they’re woven, creating a pile around them. Lastly, the blue nightshade glows despite the peak of the sun bathing them while they sit there, quiet and engrossed in their bouquet making.

Being on his own with the girls isn’t uncommon… back in the desert. Ganondorf leaves for court and Link stays with their daughters, taking them to practice and school. If he has a chance during either their practice or lessons, Link attends court, otherwise, he keeps to their personal chambers.

A new town is frightening to a snapdragon hidden in its pot, the seeds surrounding it not knowing what to do with themselves as their leader is caught off-guard. Link is providential in that his daughters stick close and obey their parents. If they were to be as rowdy as some of the children in the desert, Link would have his hands full.

Guards and attendants alike would chip in to ease the load, but Link wants to be the sole mother in his children’s lives. One would find him a hypocrite, since he has Orienta by his side at all times, but she takes on the role of an aunt, as does Riju. Their guidance is different from that of a mother’s; there is no denying that what Link does is superior to anything they could do.

Nearing the end of their bouquet, Zeka reaches to place the flower in Link’s hand when a deafening screech rings in their ears. Flowers fall in the field, tiny feet rushing toward Link, where the triplets cower behind his back.

Link swears he has heard that scream from somewhere before, but the silhouette storming over to them has no semblance of familiarity until the hair begins to take shape. Through the shadow cast by the sun at the person’s back, features and traits become recognizable.

Mistaking that grimace for anything else would present Link as a fool, for he knows exactly who is grumpily stomping her way toward him and the girls. His chest constricts, the entire length of his torso closing in on itself while the feeble heart he once possessed comes back to life.

Confidence and pride are all gone in a matter of seconds, a person so perfectly crafted crumbling to remain with the petals. A jaw tightens, teeth grinding down, and his ears turn downward. Where noise used to be is now a buzz of electricity, slicing into his eardrums.

The coward he was when he first met this woman has returned, grabbing the controls over Link’s basic function and taking him where it needs him to go. He can’t look at her, humiliated that he’s in her presence.

“You. I knew it was you! You’re the boy who ruined my gardens before!” Magda, shaking her fist, bulldozes through the flowers and stomps one foot after the other. “Once I saw such cretins in my garden, I knew it had to be you! What are you doing back here?!” She bends over, snapping her head to one side as she waits for an answer.

Like he was the first time they met, Link—meek and ashamed—lowers his voice and says, “I… I came here with my family. I was unaware this was…”

Magda quirks a brow, the other still furrowed with her lips lifted to one side. “Oh, really? What family? You and those nasty toddlers? Running about and destroying my flowers! Have you no respect? I suppose our last encounter taught you naught?!” She lifts, crossing her arms and pointing her nose up. “You are still the disrespectful, wretched boy I had the displeasure of meeting long ago!”

If the second meeting couldn’t get any worse, it does when Zeka finally speaks, clutching Link like she does her blankets. “Mama, I’m scared… Who is this lady?”

It’s an opening for an attack; Zeka’s face peeking out to find comfort in her mother’s presence. But when there’s nothing but fear and guilt, what solace is there to find? Link shifts, his piss-poor attempt at shielding her from the crazed woman whose face falls.

Then, it morphs into a rotted look, the same one that Link gives Bryn.

“What in the name of Hylia…” Magda jumps when she sees Orienta making a swift approach, then continues staring at Link and Zeka. “Do not tell me… You are… You had…” Her sentence dissipates; hearing what she has to say next is unnecessary, but she spits it out right when Orienta arrives. “You’re a voe-man.”

Orienta halts. Link’s eyes, bloodshot and panicked, shift their focus to the flowers below as Magda lets out a breathless chuckle. “Oh… Oh, I see. You went and had children with a Gerudo. I guess the Hero of Hyrule is too weak to defend himself, so he needs a vai to act as his guard dog?” Her head snaps over to Orienta, who keeps her rage held back by a tremendous quiver. “And you must be the unlucky vai to be stuck with him!”

Slicing through the wind, Orienta aims her spear at Magda, snarling. “Back away, Hylian, or I shall strike you down and jail you.”

Magda harrumphs and smirks. “Go ahead! But just know that your little voe-man is a disrespectful boy who will do more harm to you than you think!”

“I am warning you, woman, to make your way back to where you came or bear the consequences. The threat you face is not one to be played with. You are blessed to have not met with your fate already.” Orienta stabs it in her direction. Link seeks to move back, but the girls are frozen in place, whimpering and sniffling.

It’s not enough to deter the flower fanatic. She opens her mouth, spit flying as she screams, “Get this voe-man off of my flowers or so help me, Hylia, I will escort you both out myself! Go! Get! You!” Magda jabs her finger in Link’s view. “And your hideous children!” The finger goes to the triplets, who are crying louder than before. “And you! You all are not welcome here!”

Orienta charges, the glint of her spear making Link shout and cover his eyes. “No! Don’t!” He’s begging for the life of someone who wishes him nothing but the worst, the heroic side of himself unable to stand by and let one of his own suffer.

With him and the girls screaming and sobbing, the scene gathers enough attention from those around them, creating an unavoidable drama. The tremors taking him over aren’t enough, his breakfast churning and threatening to come back up in chunks.

Link doesn’t want to look. The sounds of a scuffle terrify him enough, and the prospect of damaging the image they have just now built for Hyrule makes it worse. It isn’t the first time he’s shut down when around Magda, and it probably won’t be the last while they stay here for their vacation.

“Get back!”

No! Oh, goddess! No, please, Hylia, don’t let…

Heavy breathing is the sole noise in the fields. Any yelling and crying has died down in favor of having all ears listening to the man that has made himself known. Link still hides his gaze, sucking in shuddering breaths as his hands cramp up.

Magda sputters, and Link doesn’t have to look to figure out why. The goosebumps on his arms and neck, plus the hairs on his body sticking upright, are all indicators of the presence that has befallen the group.

A shadow cascades over all, the clink of metal louder than anything as Ganondorf grips the hilt of his blade. With a sneer, he murmurs, “Who are you and what are you doing to my family?”

“I… I am the… keeper of this field and I… I saw that there were people stepping on them and… Who are you?” Magda, so brazen and unashamed of herself, has the audacity to ask a king who he is.

“You stand before Ganondorf. King of the Gerudo. Answer my question, wench, before I gut you right here and now.” His blade slides against its sheath, ready to strike, but Magda yelps.

Both hands up, she draws back, in pure disbelief. “Magda! Your Majesty, I mean no harm! This man and his wife were—!”

Ganondorf snarls. “His wife? You are mistaken, you pitiful fool. He is my queen. And the vai that protected him is his guard. I heard your insults toward him and our children… You bring a terrible impression to your people.”

“Your Majesty, this woman even called him a…” Orienta whispers in his ear the insult from earlier, and he balks at the revelation.

Link holds his shaking hands together, praying to Hylia and anyone who will listen. Drama has no place during their vacation, and they have avoided it so far. Why, oh, why did Magda have to be the keeper of this damn field? Couldn’t she be at the festival or busy with something else?

“Such a sick individual… You would take a chance and use that filthy word towards a queen? For centuries, we have gone without hearing it uttered, but our ears today were cursed with your ungodly voice screeching it for all to hear.” Ganondorf pinches the bridge of his nose, the color of his skin taking on a hint of charcoal while he measures his breathing.

Something on Ganondorf’s forehead glows intensely enough for it to be visible behind Link’s eyelids.

What the hell happened to me? I couldn’t even stand up for my children, let alone, myself. I am useless without Ganondorf; he’s the one thing that keeps me from being a disgrace to this world.

The king grunts, sword clicking back into place as he puffs his chest out. “Leave. I may be a guest to your land, but I bear no guilt if I am to end your pathetic existence in this very spot. As a token of your gratitude for my sparing you, you can send us your rupees. A payment of a thousand should suffice for the time being.” Not a single, lingering glance occurs when Ganondorf returns to Link, dropping to his knees and gathering his family in his arms.

Orienta shoves Magda aside, snatching her bicep as she escorts the woman back to wherever she came from. Compared to earlier, there is no protest piercing the air, her compliance saving her from her demise.

Any demeaning thoughts he could have in regard to himself are silenced by the strength of Ganondorf’s embrace, his head lowered in what Link thinks is his way of connecting with them. The triplets climb on Ganondorf, crying still and begging for their Pop Pop to hide them from the “bad people.”

But Link finds his voice lost. The processes that make up his daily functions have failed him, and all that is left behind is the worthless shell of a Hylian he was long ago. Where is the regal ruler he has carefully established with those who know him? What happened to the man who would defend even a fly?

Cowardice is his strength after Hylia abandoned him and threw away his pleas; it’s a miracle he even prays to her anymore. Her existence is meaningless in his life—he has The Four to thank for his gifts—but Link holds onto that last remaining shard of his past.

Without it, he fears he won’t have the pieces that form his core being. Things will fall apart, and he will be tossed into an ocean of hurt that ruins everything he has ever known about himself.

I couldn’t protect my children. I couldn’t do what was right by them.

Link’s tremors are moving Ganondorf, fingertips bruising from how hard he holds his husband’s arms.

What kind of man am I if I fail to perform what any parent should? I’m no man. I’m no hero. I’m…

Getting the girls to sleep takes more effort than they expect.

The rest of their day was filled with practicing how to fish and eating unique meals for lunch and dinner, but none of it was enough to ease their anxieties. Link had to sing them double the lullabies and tell more tales of his time with Ganondorf—not an issue in the slightest, mind you.

And Ganondorf had to check under their beds for monsters, which they hadn’t asked for in months. Their scared faces watched the both of them all the while, eyes welling up with tears from the memory of what they had faced.

Link thought that prejudice against the Gerudo had faded, but it seems Magda—as well as Hyrule—had to instill the harsh reminder in his head. Not only his, but his children’s, too. The disgusting reality of what their people had to go through wasn’t meant to be forgotten or dismissed, and while Link didn’t think he had done either, it was turning out to be a mistake on his part.

He’s rotating the scene in his head, imagining what he could and should have done differently. The trajectory of it all might have played out dissimilarly, his prowess being what saved his family from the sickness that was Magda’s detestation for them.

Voe-man… Is that all I am to Hyrule? A Hylian who ran off with a Gerudo? No… I didn’t choose this. I didn’t… Well, yes. I did choose this. I wanted to be with Ganondorf. He said so.

Tonight is supposed to be a celebration of their five-year anniversary, having been postponed due to their conflicting schedules. Ganondorf and Link don’t get many opportunities to be alone when not in diplomatic meetings or listening to their people; they want to take this chance.

Magda’s tantrum isn’t going to dampen what they have planned, but Link knows he’s obviously affected by it. A slouched body and pale complexion is going to make what’s inside show on the outside; he’s not stupid enough to think that he can hide it. No matter what fancy fabrics he drapes over himself, that haunted, shocked demeanor is going to shine through.

Snapdragons can’t hide when they’re wilting, come rain or shine. They can form new petals and continue coloring themselves white and peach, but their graying tone will remain. The wrinkles in their petals will grow and grow until they fall off, leaving the downturned stem in their wake. Beauty never lasts forever when neglect and abuse come their way; they’re cursed to decay whenever they’re put through such acts.

Purple prose isn’t enough to ease his worries and self-deprecation. Link stares at himself in the full-length mirror that was recently installed in his house; the reflection is reinforcing what he’s suspected about his outward appearance.

Tanned skin isn’t as vibrant as before; his eyes lack that sparkle of… in them; and his face is absent of a proper expression. Link has fixed his hair and put on the outfit chosen for him for the night, but it doesn’t mask what he wishes would vanish. The day has taken its toll on him, threatening to throw off everything that Ganondorf planned for their date.

The top of his dress is separated from the skirt, multiple layers of fabric covering his chest. On top of the red fabric is a gray piece, then a muted white to cover them all. Tied around their center is a flowing piece embroidered with their sigil; with what designates them as Dragmires.

Golden beads wrap around his abdomen, leading into the skirt. It’s the same off-white color as the top layer, ruched as it covers the other fabrics underneath. Link swears he has seen this design of dress before, but Ganondorf had it custom-made. That much he remembers, since he had to be fitted and measured by their personal seamstress.

Across his shoulders and into his biceps are golden chains, some circular with their own gems and others hollowed out. He dresses similarly to Ganondorf, though, seeing as they’re husband and wife, it makes sense that they would share aspects of their clothing.

His ring finger bears his wedding ring, and his index finger has a ring and chain connecting to the bracelet he wears. On the opposite hand are the same ring and chain combo, minus another wedding ring. The bracelets match, too, and are both engraved with patterns typical of the Gerudo’s fashion designs.

Of course, no outfit of his is complete without his sandals, this time colored in that same white to go with the rest of his ensemble. Link lifts the skirt of his dress to peek at them, grateful that the rings typically clasped over his middle toes are missing.

However, what isn’t missing is the headdress that Ganondorf brought for him. Opting out of wearing them during the vacation itself, his husband neglected to tell him that one was brought for this date. Link, in the past, would have been furious and refused to wear it, but not this late into their marriage.

It sits on the crown of his head with a space in the center for the topaz stone inside, which rests on his forehead. Stretching across, the headdress has curved metal that spirals just a little above him. On the edges are teardrop-shaped topaz stones, not as shiny as the one in the center.

The entire outfit is gaudy and extravagant, the same as his casual wear, but it feels excessive compared to those. Link’s grateful that Ganondorf allowed him to simply bundle his hair into a twist-up, holding it together with one of their clips. There is too much hair for him to be styling it ornately, too.

Ganondorf wears the same thing from the day; probably because Link was and is turned on by it. Explaining it like that puts the outfit he’s been made to wear into perspective: Ganondorf is wearing what Link likes, therefore, Link is wearing what Ganondorf likes.

Strangely enough, this is the first time he’s wearing the dress. Feels like forever ago that they had it made for special occasions without their children; he was at the point where he accepted that he wouldn’t have a chance to wear it. It’s a surreal experience to finally look at the finished product on his body, paired with his jewelry and bracelets.

“Orienta is in there with them,” Ganondorf disturbs the quiet that Link has stayed in. In his hands, the cloak that will keep him covered from prying eyes. “I’ve asked Bryn to stay behind and keep watch for the night. The rest will be accompanying us.”

Link rolls his eyes, arms kept to his side as he stands up straight. “Having her stay on night duty alone? Your trust in her is… interesting.”

“Having her come with us and stand guard while we enjoy our night would be a simpleton’s play. Our most experienced are better suited for the job. And she isn’t alone, per se; Nyrah and Liona are with her.” He wraps the cloak around Link, buttoning it up in the front.

All that bypasses the cloak’s cover is the bottom of his skirt. The split from his knees down isn’t seen, which is a surprise, to say. Ganondorf, meanwhile, rests his hands on Link’s abdomen, over the tattoo.

The Hylian shivers; this is always the first sign that Ganondorf is ready to get down and dirty. Link opens his mouth, gaze flitting to the side as does his head. Any touch like this has Link torn, body craving Ganondorf’s form against his own, but his heart fearing what will come next.

He’s stuck where he stands, choosing whether to place his hands on Ganondorf’s or not. Will it matter what move he makes? No; Ganondorf will take charge and handle it without Link’s help or consent.

Ganondorf doesn’t need his consent; Link’s job is to accept his husband with open arms and legs, allowing him to do whatever he wants with him. Proper wives listen, obey, and respect their husbands. They don’t fight or deny what the man wants, and Link has grown from those childish fights he used to have.

Petty, one-sided arguments serve them no favors, bringing more angst than they need. Hyrule and trade negotiations are pain enough, and they can hardly handle that!

So, Link caresses Ganondorf’s skin, unsure if the press against the back of his head is an erection or his headdress. He breathes in, sharp, hesitant to give his affection in return. This coy attitude he displays is Ganondorf’s favorite, and better yet, it isn’t faked. Genuine, his shyness makes Ganondorf rumble, pleased.

“Do you remember me holding you like this? Back when you were carrying the girls; swollen and tired. Always aching… I miss those days.” Getting lost in their memories, Ganondorf tugs Link close and keeps their bodies touching. “But we are too old and busy for more children.”

Thank goddess… Link won’t be able to handle another pregnancy. After having the triplets, the womb was discharged in the nastiest of ways, making it impossible for him to have another set. And they haven’t the time to go searching for another potion, bargaining with one of the witches out in the dunes.

Sheepish, the blond snickers. “Ah… Yes, we are. Though…” Link looks over his shoulder, head angled upward. “If you want another one, I…” He starts to give his admission, but he snaps his jaw shut and turns to the mirror.

Unpleasant. The lovely creature he was whenever he ruled was no longer in the picture.

Ganondorf pulls at his wrist, having situated himself to where Link is facing him. The length he has to go in order to properly look at Link is staggering, body bent over and joints cracking. “Not another word, eromenos. I’ve made our decision for the betterment of our lives. Think of how fortunate we are to no longer worry about protection…” He grows nastier, that wicked mind of his going to places that even Link won’t step foot in.

His poison is Link’s elixir, reviving the repressed, hidden side of himself that comes out when they have a moment alone. Link holds Ganondorf’s face, the graze of his hands reverential as they go up to his wrinkled cheeks. Gazing into eyes that ignite the molten lava in his core, Link whispers, “We can indulge in the flesh as The Four intended. Just the two of us…”

In the blink of an eye, he is swept off the floor, carried in one arm. Ganondorf makes haste to leave the house, telling Orienta that they’re on their way and that they’ll return soon. With her nod, they step out and are greeted by their entourage.

“We’re off. Follow my lead.” It takes nothing more for the guards to salute and trail behind, scimitars and spears ready for defense should someone come after them. Their stances strong and heads held high, they paint the image of perfection when it comes to being an adequate fighter.

Before, Link thought that those at the knight’s round table were in peak condition. His father was a prime example, even when he had never made it past the rank of typical knight. But being with the Gerudo and seeing their prowess first hand has changed his perception entirely.

Quiet—save for the buzz of fireflies and the rustle of the wind—the night is calm and greets them with a solitary embrace. Link watches as the hills on the horizon shimmer under the glow of the moon, covered in patches of blue nightshade. He cuddles Ganondorf, nose buried in the thick of his neck as the heavy footsteps lull him into a blissful ignorance.

The day vanishes, replaced with the tranquility of a familiar scene. Surrounded by their guards and snuggled deep in Ganondorf’s hold, Link feels right at home.

Hateno isn’t home anymore, nor does it have that nostalgia to it. Be it his encounter with Magda or the unfamiliarity with the new slang, his hometown lacks any appeal. Link wishes to go back home, or rather, anywhere but Hyrule. He had forgotten why he stayed in the desert, and with the blunt reminder of his reasoning, he begged for the sand under his feet.

His ankle throbs at the thought. That damn thing has been a pain in his ass for as long as he can remember, but Link hasn’t a clue as to why it hurts now and then. Stupid body…

They’re coming up on a hill that’s infested with fireflies, dazzling them with their glow and bringing attention to the small bodies of water that are scattered around. Link furrows his brow, lifting from Ganondorf’s neck.

“Where are we?”

“Our place. Some scouts found it when I sent them here, and I decided it was perfect. Don’t tell me you hate it…” Ganondorf’s voice is a warning, which Link responds to with a shout.

“No! I… I love it, erastes, I do! All the…” Taking a moment to look at where they are, he can see a grove of blue nightshade, giving a faint glow to the entire spot. Compared to Magda’s field and some that he saw during his mission to defeat the Calamity, this hill is Farore’s blessing incarnate. “The flowers, the water, and the fireflies… They’re divine!”

Honestly, he hasn’t seen something this gorgeous since that place with the cherry blossom tree. The name of it is lost on him for now, but Link will find out where and what it was. At this moment, he’s enthralled with the mastery of nature, eager to get down.

Like he can read his heart and its wants, Ganondorf settles Link on the ground with a groan. While he mumbles about his back, the guards walk a few yards away, allowing the two of them to be together… Without anyone following or bothering them.

His soul is tingling, their connection strong as it brings an increase to his heart rate. Link clings to Ganondorf as the cloak waves in the wind, managing to keep his dress under wraps.

He’s going to undo me like a present on Yuletide. I am always his gift from The Four; how foolish have I been to believe he would choose anything but me?

It’s the thought of Ganondorf lusting after him that causes the mixture of emotions. Link relishes the tantalizing edge it dangles him over, frightened of the raw ardor that will shortly come his way. Deep within, the monster that Link suppresses is breaking free from its egg, hungering for that disgusting affection.

Link takes two steps forward, his fingers clasping the center of the cloak while his thumb toys with the button. Getting lost in the scenery helps him not lose control, the fragility of his mind clutching at the binds and using the view as stability.

As a chill runs from the top of his head to his spine, Link gasps and turns his head slightly when Ganondorf’s hand creeps down. His wrist is snatched and torn from the cloak, buttons being undone by deft hands.

Blond locks curtain his face, draping over where Ganondorf’s fingers linger. One hand twirls them between his index finger and middle as the cloak falls down. Leaning down, the rotted breath of Ganondorf’s brushes the shell of Link’s ear as he purrs, “I do so adore the scent of my eromenos.”

The queen can’t breathe. They’ve played this game before; Link recalls their second meeting in his room at the castle. Sword on the wall, flowers on the table, and the elixir right in front of him. At his back was Ganondorf, manipulating his body into responding pleasantly to his arrival.

“You… always have a way with wooing…” Link’s trembling grows worse by the second, but not induced by terror as they were with Magda. They’re brought about by the moments that he and Ganondorf share, tender and filled with complete love.

Ganondorf’s palms slide from the center of his chest around the width of his back, traveling lower until he’s grabbing his ass in both hands. “Courting, eromenos. ‘Tis what I do best; if I didn’t, then we would still be centuries apart.”

Wait… We are centuries apart. And he didn’t court me, he… I don’t know.

With their fates tangled up and knotted beyond repair, Link arches his back with his nipples hardening. “Please, don’t tease me when we have waited all day for this…”

Those dastardly hands squeeze Link, copping a feel as Ganondorf starts his “Ganon-splaining.” The heat of his palms seeps through the dress, traveling up into Link’s neck, where it turns his ears and cheeks pink to match the temperature.

“Tease you? Do tell, eromenos, how it is teasing when we’ve done the same routine for ages! I’d like to hear what a…” Link’s hips are grabbed, hoisting him up just enough that Ganondorf’s growing bulge is grinding into him. “Virginal sow like you thinks teasing is. Is it the way I…”

Rubbing slowly, the thickness of Ganondorf’s erection pushes between his bottom, his hardened tip weeping with pre that sticks to Link’s dress. He whimpers; he hates the way precome and the like feel on his skin, but he pushes through.

For Ganondorf. I push through for him.

“The way I spread you open with just my cock? Or is it…” The grip on his hip switches, one hand holding him up by his abdomen while the other goes to his crotch. Sneaking under the split of the dress, Ganondorf grabs Link’s entire dick in his hand, thumb rubbing against the head through the sheer panties he chose for him.

Link squirms in his hold—there is no finding his way out of Ganondorf’s tight grasp on him. He’s still having to adjust to the smooth skin where his sac used to be, finding it extra sensitive to the littlest of grazes.

The Gerudo chuckles, fondling his crotch while he teases his backside. With both ends toyed with, Link’s abdomen tightens, the fear setting in as it brings tears to his eyes. Ganondorf might be able to smell them, but if he does, he doesn’t mention it, choosing instead to play with him. “Is it the way I can bring pleasure with my hand? You still don’t have an answer… What a shame, Link! And here I thought you obeyed so wonderfully.”

Obedience is what he does best. Link was a trusted knight for that exact reason, and it continues to be why Ganondorf stays with him. Stuttering, Link speaks. “It… It is the way you do both, erastes! And… and your words! Striking to… to a coward’s core!”

“A coward you are not, for you brave my touch and courtship. Had it not been for that sickening deity that chose you as the possessor of her Triforce piece, you would be mere bones in the dirt.” Rolling from a serpent’s tongue, Ganondorf’s declaration spikes the anxiety in Link’s stomach, the queen nearly vomiting on himself.

When they get frisky with one another, that wretched fear never goes away. Both adored and abhorred, it eats Link alive, regurgitates him, and swallows him whole again. Even flies don’t vomit that much!

Gone in a snap, any foreplay Ganondorf is conducting vanishes, and Link is settled on the ground with a wobbling stance. Arms shoot out to his sides, jewelry clinking when he stumbles forward. The world is spinning, but Link blinks it back into a still image, panting.

Sickening deity… She had forsaken me when I called her most.

He would rub at his face to ease the troubles, but the makeup he wears is easy to remove with the oil from his skin, leaving him no other option but to fidget with his dress.

Fervent touching is the first step in their game, his ankle aching as Ganondorf stands next to him. His hand on his shoulder, he forces Link to walk, their final destination unknown. Link uses the sparkle on the water to guess where they’re going, and when the glint of the moon touches his toes, he knows.

Spun around, the small of his back is held, and he’s dipped, neck struggling to keep his head upright. Jewels twinkle while they rest in the bed of grass surrounding them; the moon is brightening and illuminating them as though they’re in a spotlight.

Ethereal is the setting, but Ganondorf has other plans.

Crimson bleeds into the sky, the white glow morphing into a bloody stain. Link struggles to look around at the changed scenery, but Ganondorf grabs his neck, sharpened fangs sticking out like a sore thumb as his mouth stretches open.

“I promised that tonight would be a feast,” he hisses, stunning the air with a sharp laugh before he brings Link to his face. “Just the two of us, copulating as The Four command. Who are we to renounce our faith?”

Link has already renounced his faith, albeit, with Hylia. The Hylian gave up his belief in her to turn to another set of goddesses, desperate for more guidance and compassion. And everything he’s been gifted after his switch in faith has come from them.

Hylia could never be so good to him. If she were the loving, gracious goddess that Hylians claimed her to be, then why did she abandon Link? She left him at Death’s doorstep, not even a whisper in the wind when he turned to look at her. The pieces of himself that were scattered in the fields of Hyrule were gathered by Ganondorf, where he was presented to The Four.

They rescued him from damnation, giving him the purpose he sought when groveling at Hylia’s feet. Link owes them everything; whatever they ask of him, he will do.

His arms come up, palms resting on Ganondorf’s chest as his fingers dance across the stretched fabric that threatens to tear. Should Ganondorf move the wrong way, it’ll split open, and Link won’t be able to resist temptation.

Ganondorf stares at him under the Blood Moon; his hungry gaze speaks volumes. Link’s lips part and his skin becomes hyperaware of any point of contact between him and Ganondorf—they’re sharing a moment more intimate than those in the desert. Late night serenades and the chilly desert air do not compare to the vibrancy of the Blood Moon; the elegance of the flowers and water.

Frantic trumpets blow in his ear, their sound potent and wailing like an alarm. Link explores the expanse of Ganondorf’s pectorals while the Gerudo shakes from his rumbling chuckle. He expects a word; another rambling sentence of what Ganondorf wants to do, but he’s surprised by the forceful press of the man’s mouth against his own.

Soft skin molds into place with chapped flesh, the gluttony of Ganondorf’s lust feeding Link’s troublesome hesitance as he consumes what is rightfully his. Link scrambles for stability in the ever-tightening clutch on his neck, dangling in the air, chest to sternum.

Their bodies burn, engulfing one another in a roaring flame that could rival the Blood Moon if it so wanted. The heat is almost too much for Link, quick puffs of warm air bringing a fever to the rest of his face. From the start, their fervent passion has been like this: hot breath against both of their faces, sweat collecting on their brows, and bodies trembling to maintain control.

Legs kicking out, Link swings his right and hooks it around what he can of Ganondorf’s width, finally having proper support. Consumed by the fervor of his own yearning, the Hylian grabs Ganondorf on either side of his face, deepening the kiss.

Like a lizalfos sneaking around, Link pushes his tongue into Ganondorf’s mouth, swirling it around the corners. He slides it over his front teeth and tastes the plague; tastes the disease that courted him long before.

Pointed fangs press into the muscle when Ganondorf adjusts his position, eventually nipping at Link’s bottom lip. A sharpened tip scratches thin skin, drawing blood that Ganondorf begins sucking on.

Iron floods Link’s mouth, staining their mouths and pearly whites as they devour each other. They’ve gone through this before, using blood as a means to display love. He tastes it on his weakened tongue, slurping it down while scarlet-tinted saliva spreads across the corners of their mouths.

They moan in tandem, devourment being the only emotion transferring between them. Link ruts against Ganondorf’s torso, his manhood weeping from the shortened attention Ganondorf gave it. He wants more; they don’t get these chances a lot, and he wants to take advantage of the time they do have.

He wants Ganondorf’s body on his own; he wants his weight crushing him while he abuses his greedy hole to an ungodly degree. Link dreams of Ganondorf keeping him as a cock sleeve while they sit in for court; the fantasies drive him to pull away from the kiss.

A string of spit connects them until it falls, draping across Ganondorf’s turtleneck. Arousal scalds Link’s guts and erodes at the layers meant to protect from that type of acid, poison turning into pure rot.

For years, he’s faced the rot of his love for Ganondorf; how it unravels his petals and crushes them when they dry up; and how it creeps into his stem as his nervousness over their intimacy gets the best of him. Though, all becomes well after they get it done, for the rot fades with the anxiety.

The Gerudo jumps straight to leaving hickeys on his neck, nipping and taunting Link with the threat of being bitten. Many times he’s had scars and bruises left behind, neck discolored from the attention it received in heated moments. Tonight is no different when Ganondorf runs his tongue along his jugular, guffawing into the skin to create an echo in Link’s ears.

Link’s head falls to the side to give better access, stiff as a board in Ganondorf’s deathly vise. The dull pressure of fangs has him grimacing, more tears surfacing without control. A voyeur in his own body, he cannot do more than watch and feel what Ganondorf does to him, succumbing to the devilish touches and sinful tongue.

Ganondorf leaves a trail of purple marks around his neck, forming a painted choker that pulses with his heart. Indents of teeth that never broke through are swollen, the harsh pink blending with the deep violet. The portrait Ganondorf sees in Link is created by his mouth and hands, every stroke of the brush mixing the colors into a visible shape.

Once incessant, Ganondorf slows in his kissing, going from ravenously eating up his flesh to caressing it with cracked lips. Some of the old skin flakes off and rests on Link’s neck, a sensation that he loathes. It’s not moving, irritating his skin and bringing an uncomfortable stab in his veins.

Kisses that stayed on his neck continue downward, into his collarbone. Ganondorf can’t reach most of it thanks to the decorative chains and metal, but damn, does he try. His lust knows no bounds, freed from its cage at the slightest hint of Link’s reciprocation.

He doesn’t have to show it, since Ganondorf can sniff it out. All it takes is a trickle of sweat across Link’s forehead, and he’s pouncing on the poor Hylian. Used to this behavior, Link allows it; gives in and submits the pieces of himself that belonged to Hylia in a past so far behind them.

When Ganondorf stops toying with Link’s collarbones, he pivots in the direction of the pool of water. Maroon, verging on black, reflects in Link’s eyes when he turns to look, the strain in his neck tight.

The Blood Moon, perched high in the sky, brings puddles of gloom—Ganondorf calls it that—and small hands stretching across the fields. The sentient fingers with claws slide from one side to the other, and Link swears they’re collecting flowers. If they aren’t, then he is certifiably delusional, and he will admit to it himself.

Ganondorf’s harsh hold on him switches, hands smoothing over his back as he’s lowered into the water. While the freezing pool shocks Link into a shivering state, he thinks about his hair. The special clip is going to be ruined, not to mention, he’ll have to take a shower when they get back to his house. It brings a scowl to his face; Ganondorf needed to value thinking with his brain over his cock.

Blond strands spread out, but the updo remains, secured in the clip. If Ganondorf wasn’t standing in front of him, the red from the moon would have dyed him in its splatter. Link instinctively grabs at the mud in the puddle, scrambling back just as he does during these games. Mouth swollen but open, he stares at Ganondorf, eyes widened like that of a doe being hunted by the buck.

“You remain as gorgeous as you were the day I met you. Small… Soft… The women in our tribe cannot compare to your golden aura.”

And Link thinks for a moment, I’m not golden right now? Where is he getting that from?

Choosing not to pry for an explanation, Link gulps, but his legs are spreading without any input from him. He runs on autopilot, the rules of servitude rotating in his thoughts in Orienta’s voice. Her teachings, vital to his stability with Ganondorf, have done him well throughout the years. Without them, they wouldn’t be happy, content, and more.

Pink and blue whizzes around his head, annoying him to the point of swatting at them. From above, Ganondorf frowns and crouches, grabbing at Link’s ankle. “Whatever is it that you are smacking?”

Link groans, irritated at their presence, and shakes his head. “Those blasted fairies! Forever buggering me whenever we grow heated… I wish I could catch them in my jars!”

Ganondorf remains motionless, his golden eyes scanning the air and the grass before sighing. “You’re seeing things again; there are no fairies. Try blinking repeatedly.”

No fairies? Link does as told, lashes batting his cheeks while the world flickers around him. Just for some sort of bonus, he shakes his head, and when he finally opens his eyes, the fairies aren’t there.

Another hallucination? These fairies are getting on my last nerve!

He slumps, falling back into the water with a minuscule splash. “… Right. No fairies. Goddess, Ganondorf, I apologize; they just… they appear the same as any others. And… And sometimes they whisper things to me.”

“They whisper?” Ganondorf is already hiking his dress up, caressing his thighs and scraping his blunt nails across unblemished porcelain. “Please, enlighten me, eromenos.”

Confessing to such imaginations is daunting, but Link doesn’t want to see what happens if he disobeys Ganondorf. His plea is not one, but rather, a demand; a command for his eromenos, and Link will heed his words.

“They speak of terrible things,” while the confession steadily falls from his lips, Ganondorf takes his time in tracing the rugged scars across his thighs. “Telling me to leave, shouting, “hey! Listen!” And warning me of… Goddess, I cannot remember.” He’s fed up with the amnesia, wanting to cherish his memories and keep what’s most important.

Interest is palpable as Ganondorf’s brows lift, the man’s hands continuing to slide his dress in such a way that his panties peek through. Ganondorf, the pervert, lights up at the tantalizing temptation and hovers his hand over the bulge. “Yes, yes, warnings and terrible things. But, eromenos, there is no need to focus on that. I’m here now, my rose; we’re together and that is all that matters. Remember that.”

As always, his erastes is correct and rational, bringing him down to The Four’s graced land and erasing any troublesome worry that will strip him of his joy. Link doesn’t know why he always goes into these mindsets, lost and lonely in the path his brain creates to self-destruction.

And even though he gives his trust to Ganondorf, it hasn’t stopped him from shaking, looking up to the stars in the sky for comfort. It’s usually a ceiling he looks at, mapping the patterns and creating images from cracks and squiggles. Distractions come in handy for when he overthinks, but he’s seeing a pattern.

Hardly there, you wouldn’t notice it from far away. But if you were to get in his face like the pink and blue fairies, you would see that he does this each and every time they make love. Link ignores it; shoves it down and chooses to accept Ganondorf with unrestrained willingness.

That’s what good eromenoi do.

Link gasps softly as Ganondorf starts to palm him through the fabric, his callouses digging into his pathetically small cock. He writhes like a chuchu rolling down a hill, body nothing more than goop while he stretches his arms out above his head.

Falling away from the tightrope of hesitance, Link gyrates, moving to rub himself against the rugged hand that toys with him. Underneath Ganondorf, the Hylian looks no better than an ant, crawling in the dirt to escape the hawk that has set its sights on him. His colony calls for him, but he won’t return; his life lies in the hands of the bird swooping down to get him.

For once, Ganondorf says nothing, changing his position so that his head is resting on Link’s inner thigh. His beard scratches skin that is oh, so used to damage and irritation from over the years. With new scars and old, he’s decorated with the medals of what he’s accomplished in life. It brings some ease to his mind knowing that he has earned these marks fair and square.

The fabric covering the front of the dress is flipped up, exposing him further to where closing his legs together won’t help. Link slams his eyes shut; Ganondorf presses those dastardly lips along the innermost part of his thigh where the panty line goes.

Goosebumps bring a hardened texture to Link’s skin, the dimpling of his arms going unnoticed by the beast between his legs. He’s covered in Ganondorf’s lips, the trail of saliva unmistakable when the Gerudo lifts his head slightly to dangle it inches away from his covered groin.

“Do not hide such beauty from me, eromenos,” he grins, kneeling on the ground with both hands slamming Link’s knees to the ground, leaving him spread apart. “We shan’t play these games for another five years. You belong to me; you do as I command. And what I want from you…” The closer he gets, the wider his smile, and Link can feel as such.

What good is looking when the breath of the predator blows across his sensitive parts, keying him into what’s going on? Link breathes through his teeth, the whistle of his anxiety keeping Ganondorf on his toes.

“What I want from you is flesh.”

Attention is given to Link’s manhood, the caressing of lips through his panties leaving him a whimpering, trembling wreck. Whenever Ganondorf gives him pleasure, it’s rare and a treasure to behold, but Link has to spend some time adjusting to the change. It should be him giving pleasure to Ganondorf, not the other way around.

An eromenos receiving a mouth on their cock is against the rules, but… Ganondorf has never really cared for rules before, has he? Link supposes he should have known that from the get-go, but with everything that has happened during their first day in Hateno…

Ganondorf licks a stripe up his length, sliding his tongue underneath the head to collect the precome that’s collected on there. Link shouts and kicks his legs out, the width of his husband keeping him from doing anything except wriggle and scream. He’s trapped; does he want anything other than that?

His noises, louder than the roar of a lynel in the distance, serve as Ganondorf’s breaking point, snapping the tether that holds him back from becoming a carnal monster. Lynels and bokoblins cannot compare to the ravaging that Ganondorf will put Link through.

Threads come apart as Link’s panties are ripped off, discarded without any regrets, and leaving only small strings on Link’s hairless groin. It startles him; gets him to make a soft noise and exhale through his nose while shifting his hips. He isn’t sure of which way to move, but whatever Ganondorf wants, Link is certain he will take.

Diving straight for the appetizer of the night, Ganondorf takes the tip into his mouth, sucking and lavishing it with his tongue. Everything is so foreign for him, unknown to a creature so used to playing the role of servant. He refuses to consider rimming a form of submission by Ganondorf, since he does it even when Link…

Link gushes on Ganondorf’s tongue and cringes when he processes it, tilting his head up like he’s going to crawl away. As if he would with a giant, lumbering creature holding him hostage with his body. It’s silly what he sometimes thinks, but Link tries to not focus on it, struggling to find satisfaction with his ravishment.

His husband makes sure no edge is left untouched, swiping up pre each time it dribbles out and sucking on the head to get the rest. Anymore and Link is bound to burst, an embarrassing act that will leave him with the most god-awful shame of the century.

As luck would have it, Ganondorf leaves the glans in favor of attacking the shaft, which takes no effort as it is. After all, Link’s manhood is nearly smaller than Ganondorf’s entire tongue. He tries not to think about the difference in size; how he barely casts a shadow onto Ganondorf when they stand next to each other, or how he can be held with one hand instead of two…

Too late for resisting his baser instincts, Link thrusts into Ganondorf’s mouth, his arm going down so that he can entangle his fingers in Ganondorf’s hair. He tries to hold him still so that he can move inside him, but there isn’t enough strength in all of his body to keep Ganondorf from doing what he wants.

Feigning for more yields no accommodation from Ganondorf, who sucks softly and pulls up to leave his tongue resting on the tip. Link detests the teasing, finding it hypocritical of Ganondorf to tease him when Link never fails to give him what he wants straight away.

Maybe it’s because Link has learned his lesson, knowing better than to play with Ganondorf’s arousal and strike his fury rather than his pleasure. So many lessons to keep track of… Link discards them, opting for the sweet embrace of satisfaction in its place. With Ganondorf sucking him and touching his thighs, he’s nearly driven mad from it, hips directed by his heart to shove upward for more, more, more.

“Goddess, be d-damned!” Link spits out through gritted teeth as he bucks into Ganondorf like a wild animal. The Blood Moon has strange effects on those who gaze upon it at the darkest of hours; people become beasts unlike themselves, free from the binds of morality and responsibility. He’s no exception to this rule, pathetic in how he tries to get all he can from Ganondorf.

That tongue is overwhelming, Ganondorf’s mouth filling him with an arousal that leaves him throbbing. “P-Please, goddess, I—ngh—can’t… Ganon!” Self-control isn’t exhibited like it should be, the brute unleashing and grasping for Ganondorf’s in return.

But the mercy he seeks is snatched from him when Ganondorf pops his mouth off, leaving it wet, aching, and red from the edge he is left on. The sight? Link’s face, mussed and covered in dried spit from their earlier kiss; his body, flushing with a sheen of sweat barely visible in the moonlight; and his limbs, numb from how hard he is shaking. Ganondorf lifts his head, getting a good look at the mess he’s made and chuckling.

It doesn’t sound nice. It never sounds nice.

“You told me you can’t. Do not give me such a sorrowful gaze when I’ve given you what you asked for. My, my, eromenos, and I thought you knew the joys that come next! Why end our appetizers so soon?” Ganondorf… Forever a master with his words; a master of everything. Link wants to beg for more, but Ganondorf can read his mind, and he snatches the blond by the hips, his grip deadly.

Goddess… Goddess, my Four, please, prepare me for what comes next, for I know not how to behave.

No words, no noises, and no signs are given before Link is flipped onto his stomach, legs forcibly positioned to where nothing is hidden from view. His knees dig into the mud, small pebbles jabbing the bone and leaving marks. Link grapples for purchase, using his elbows to prop himself up—each breath is raspy; ragged.

Shit… He’s really going to—!

A heavy wheeze leaves him as Ganondorf pins him down, hand slamming into his back and holding him there. More memories come back, but only in spurts—the colors of a past he’s squandered away in the corner of his mind. Words are missing, but the emotions and sensations are there, a constant haunting in his flesh.

Sand. A throb in his ankle. Vaguely, Link swears something drips down the back of his leg, but he can’t be entirely confident in that. The feelings, the images that bubble here and there… Unmistakably something that happened, but nothing tangible that Link can piece together.

“Now… Be a good wife and lay there all nice and pretty. We don’t want you committing treason against your king, do we?” Rhetorical in nature, it is also incredibly dumb of Ganondorf to assume Link would do something as wretched as that. Even with the certainty of his loyalty never questioned, Ganondorf crushes Link with his hand and growls, “Answer me.”

Link, with stinging lungs and a burning nose, finally squeaks out, “N-No! No, I would… wouldn’t dream of… doing such a thing.”

The weight on his back is relieved by a smidgen, pressure still holding him to the water and ruining the pristine dress they commissioned. Or was it Ganondorf who requested it? Ah, well, it doesn’t matter. Link closes his eyes, silently repeating his prayers while Ganondorf grabs a cheek, pulling him open.

There is only one way that this all ends. Link braces himself, but even that doesn’t stop him from jolting with a gasp when Ganondorf’s hot breath breezes over his tight hole. Making fists, he buries them into what he can of the mud as Ganondorf draws near, salivating at the opportunity.

He waits, impatient, and tries to adjust his position despite the hand holding him down. Like watching paint dry, Link feels his boredom grow and grow until he’s assaulted by that tongue, shouting in surprise.

Ganondorf holds nothing back, licking around the rim and mapping every fold and crevice in the muscle. His tongue is slick with saliva, leaving a ring of it behind that trickles into the puddle. It’s sticky, for when Ganondorf moves a certain way, a string of it connects to his lips.

They’ve done this many times, Ganondorf’s face buried between the sun-kissed globes that have small freckles in sporadic places. Link, a squirming fish trapped between the rocks of the shore and the ferociousness of his captor. The metaphorical net has been cast over him, tightening its hold the longer Ganondorf kisses and laps at his heat.

Do salmon often dream of the fishermen using them in such a manner? Are their minds consumed with thoughts of being restrained in the net, their eggs left behind while they lose themselves in the pleasure of being caught? Link doubts it, but his mind wonders, just like a scholar ponders the reality they live in.

Spit mixes with the heat of Ganondorf’s breathing, the sensations doubling due to Link’s captive state. Ropes wound around his abdomen and Ganondorf’s wrist, his noises bleed into the puddle, bubbles appearing with the puffs of air escaping him. The headdress is soaked by now, as is his chin and lips, having been sullied by him placing them in the water. He can only lay there and take what is given, like a good wife would.

Link imagines this is what snapdragons do; sit pretty and allow the gardener to do what he pleases. Watering him, replacing his soil, and setting him in the sun… Ganondorf does those things for Link, who gladly lets him. It's why he’s been so pristine all these years, the impeccable image of what it means to be a proper wife—Ganondorf nurtures him, lets him grow his delicate curves and jaws to be presented in the competition that Link steam rolls to victory.

Together, they create a gnarly duo that no one can compete with. And he will repeat it over and over, the lesson Ganondorf taught so well: They support each other. Link’s support of Ganondorf is returned, and that is how they remain as untouchable as they are.

Bryn could never be that way with Ganondorf. They don’t mesh well together, this he knows. Can Bryn handle Ganondorf’s outbursts? His tangents and aggressive possessiveness? She’s a silly little beetle floundering in the water; an insect trying too hard to be something it isn’t. None of them could ever compare, and he finds security in that thought.

From behind, he can hear Ganondorf groaning and moaning into his flesh, scratching him up with his blunt nails while he teases his hole with the tip of his tongue. The flesh is resistant, barely stretching around the large muscle even when Ganondorf manages to get some of it in. Link wishes he could figure out why he’s still so tight after five years of having sex, but Ganondorf says it's because his body shapes itself just how he likes.

If that’s the case, then Link will believe it and basks in the knowledge that is his body behaving as it should. He smiles, the thin line of his lips broken by a lewd noise that escapes as Ganondorf shoves more of his tongue inside.

Hips pushing back, the blond opens his fists and grips the clumping mud with his fingers, shaping it underneath polished hands. It will be in the shape he wants; Ganondorf may not mold things in his image, but Link is more than happy to…

The thought trails off once Ganondorf holds him steady and forces his tongue in, red beard thick and tickling his taint while he writhes in the beauty of nature. Link coughs in between his whimpers, followed by a grunt as he’s forced open. Tight, furled skin sinks in with Ganondorf’s tongue, pushing in until his teeth and beard are firm against his lower half. Where his balls used to be is now skin that ripples at the smallest of touches.

Ganondorf’s beard is too much, covered in spit in some places—the man nibbles around his rim, chuckling into him and letting the sound reverberate through Link’s hollow organs. He’s flopping endlessly in the net, gasping for what gives him life as he remains trapped, forever under the command of his captor.

Never opening the ropes and releasing his catch, the Gerudo slowly moves his tongue in and out, tugging on the thin entrance on the motion out. When he pushes forward, his skin sinks in with him, and Ganondorf wriggles his tongue around aimlessly. He’s not looking to pleasure Link anywhere in particular, but feeling the weight of his tongue in his ass is nearly enough to send Link over the edge.

He wants to come, but Ganondorf dangles him over the cliff some more, letting go of his ass to force two fingers in along with his tongue. They scissor Link apart, sideways, to stretch him more and ready him for what the grand finale will be. The main course as Ganondorf will call it, a description that leaves Link willing and waiting impatiently.

Expertise is never lost on Link as Ganondorf’s fingers curl and angle precisely to strike at his prostate, rubbing fingertips into where the sensitive gland is. Link calls his name; prays to the unofficial God at his behind that uses his disciple so lovingly. If it wasn’t raw and rough, then it wasn’t real, and Link tells himself this to get over the anxiety of having sex.

“Gan… Gan, please, I want—! Oh, goddess! Please?” Link goes on loop, repeating his desperate pleas to ears that wish not to hear what he has to say. Ganondorf knows what to do and knows what Link wants; he doesn’t have to be told twice. Not even once! A fisherman always knows how to properly maintain his catch; a boar always knows how to properly mate with his sow.

Soil that is irreplaceable and unusual squishes against Link’s front, mud covering him over his collarbones and neck. His jewels are dirtied, everything needing a thorough wash when they return home. Link tries not to focus on the hard work that awaits them, losing himself in the fresh air that his fisherman has brought him into.

Over and over, Ganondorf rubs his prostate and uses his tongue to add to that teasing, filling him with a third finger in the process. Link tries to spread his legs further, but he can’t do much when he slips in the mud. If it weren’t for the hand on his back, he would have surely fallen face-first into the puddle and gotten his face dirty.

Prayers continue to rotate in a mind so utterly consumed with his husband, his begging for more coming to his lips without any forewarning. Ganondorf has him hook, line, and sinker; under his spell and mesmerized by all that he does. Link is losing track of how many times he’s asked for Ganondorf to shove his cock in and take the rest out, but he knows it’s surpassing a hundred by now.

And like all things with Ganondorf of this nature, the Gerudo stops and tugs everything out, smearing his fingers over Link’s globes and licking his lips. Link thinks he’s gaping, but it’ll be more of a stretch when Ganondorf actually takes the plunge.

Whenever he thinks something is at its limit, Ganondorf manages to surpass his expectations and go beyond. They shoot beyond the limits of time, into Andromeda, where they meet with the constellations and become one with the stars. Link pictures themselves holding hands and becoming patterns for Hylians to recognize in the night sky, nearly missing how Ganondorf moves his hand and flips him onto his back again.

They look at one another, Link’s eyes glazed with unshed tears and lust while Ganondorf’s are clouded with brutal hunger. The difference is there, but those who have never been around them would miss such a thing. Link can’t expect everyone to know the ins and outs of the king and queen; it’s too high of a behest for the simpletons of Hyrule. They alone are who is aware of the changes in demeanor and gaze, and Link, honestly, wants it to remain that way.

Ganondorf grins, hands roving up his sides and coming down to grab at each thigh. “You’ve done well, little eromenos… Taking what your king gives with no complaints. And to think I once believed we’d still be fighting by now…” He lifts Link’s legs, slamming his knees into his shoulders while he squats over him. “The main course is always so filling and worthwhile, is it not?”

Not saying anything, Link begs with his eyes, and they act as an answer for his erastes. Ganondorf positions himself, taking out that monstrous dick and stroking it a few times before slapping it over Link’s hole.

“Be good for me; I won’t last long tonight.” Ganondorf grits his teeth and gives a slow push, hips rocking with each inch that he forces. Even if he were to last all night, Link won’t, so it’s a mercy unknowingly given to him that Ganondorf has less energy.

His heels dig into Ganondorf’s shoulders, legs having been draped across him while he stuffs Link full. When Ganondorf gives in to his baser instincts, slamming the rest of the way in and bottoming out, Link shouts and covers his face. Being seen like this is too humiliating of a reality, and if he can use his hands as a mask, then he will.

Hips plant firm against Link’s bottom, those heavy balls smacking Link in the process. He wants to fan himself, but that would defeat the purpose of hiding his face, so Link opts for the heat of his breath as a comfort.

“Didn’t even need to use the clove oil,” Ganondorf hisses before moving, his thrusts slow and shallow to allow for adjustment. Link won’t be able to move even if he tries, as he’s completely pinned on either side by Ganondorf’s legs. And Ganondorf isn’t blind to that, for he uses it to his advantage.

The more he moves, the quicker he gets, spit and typical wetness increasing the slide of his cock. Ganondorf grunts, a sweat collecting on his brow while his wrinkles become more evident due to his twisting face. Link relishes the appearance; his erastes is gorgeous and handsome no matter how his face looks.

Beauty is subjective, but Link won’t mind if he’s the only one to find Ganondorf appealing. If it means getting unworthy suitors to back off, then he’ll take it. His possessiveness is the strongest aspect of himself bar none. Being obsessed and possessive is what brings youth to his flesh; a sparkle to his eyes that Ganondorf sees in no one but him.

Ganondorf’s piercing pounds into his prostate when the Gerudo shifts his hips too fast, losing his grip on his sanity quicker than either of them could have anticipated. Link squeezes around him, moaning, whimpering; he’s a complete wreck as his cock bobs between his legs. If the reach was easier, Link would stroke himself to completion, but he will have to settle for the wicked piercing.

Through the heat of the moment, Link forgets the most important attributes of Ganondorf’s best parts: his pierced nipples and cock. He licks his lips at the memory of his erastes’ pectorals digging into his back when they fuck nasty. So lost in the nostalgia of their past encounters is he that he screams when Ganondorf fucks him sloppily, hips stuttering and thrusts becoming inconsistent while he pounds away at his tight ass.

Squelching, their bodies smack into one another and create a harmony that haunts Link in his slumber, so loud and rancid. Underneath him, the puddle splashes onto them, spreading mud and grass on Link’s backside and Ganondorf’s clothed thighs. The way they make love is always rank, close to spreading a plague when they let their noises out into the air.

It might be better if Hyrule discovers the passion they have for one another and become diseased as a result. Link shakes his head minutely, jaw clenched as he grits out, “F-Fuck! Ganondorf, goddess, goddess! I’m—! I’m—! Ngh~!”

Clamping down on Ganondorf’s beastly length, Link comes hard and stains his dress, his breathing forcing through his nostrils, which burn just as brightly as his stomach. Ganondorf increases his motions, body accelerating to the tune of Link’s restrained noises. He’s coming down from the high, but Ganondorf continues milking him, rutting like a drooling, feral hog and taking all he can from Link.

His lithe form is moved, back rubbing into the muddy pool of water; Ganondorf whispers sweet nothings, as usual, his thrusts no longer shallow. They’re elongated, the tip barely inside until Ganondorf takes the plunge and reaches the limits of Link’s inner walls. They squeeze him, reluctant to let him go and end their pleasure so soon.

But Ganondorf was right: he isn’t going to last long tonight. Knees knocking into his neck and cheeks, Link gasps as Ganondorf gives hard, fast thrusts once, twice, and then pins him down by the throat. His load spills into him, thick and hot, ropes upon ropes that fill Link to the brim. He’s twitching deep inside, heavy and throbbing with the piercing directly nestled against Link’s small gland.

Small twitches and the dull pressure keep Link spasming, his orgasm spilling more onto himself while Ganondorf slumps. He doesn’t put all of his weight on Link, holding himself up by the forearms and looking forward.

With a deep sigh, he utters, “A fitting end for today. After all that we went through… Decompressing is essential to living a healthy life.” Ganondorf suppresses a voracious groan as he pulls out, cock slapping against his thighs and dribbling jizz into the water below. Link’s hole, in comparison, is puffy, red, and swollen, dripping with semen and gaping from the thick beast that was just inside. He swallows his disgust for a sight like that and tosses his head back, not looking even as Ganondorf rolls onto his side, next to the Hylian struggling to breathe.

Neither speak, basking in the moonlight while it fades from scarlet to white; Ganondorf doesn’t like to use his powers for too long, nowadays, and Link can’t blame him.

Laying there, the blond reaches for Ganondorf’s hand, and when he finds it, he squeezes.

“I failed today.” Link stares, lifeless, into the sky and doesn’t breathe as he follows his words up with, “I failed to properly defend my family as a good eromenos should.”

Ganondorf quirks a brow, but he doesn’t roll to look at Link, simply squeezing his hand in return. “What do you mean? The issue was dealt with swiftly; you did all that you could.”

Even though his bones are screaming at him, Link sits upright and situates himself so that he’s over Ganondorf, brown-tinted hair and skin shadowed by the stars. His hands go to the man’s chest, where he grasps at him. “No! No, erastes, I… I should have fought back. I should have made her go away. Instead, I opted to foolishly sit on my arse and wait for everyone else to do the hard work for me.”

He bows his head; tears are starting to come out, but he hides them with his hair. Ganondorf doesn’t need to worry over Link’s insecurities, his life requiring attention in other areas. Desperate to maintain decorum but get his point across, Link whispers, “I’ve lost my power… I need to get it back.”

Who once was laying flat on his back is now shooting up, taking Link along with him. Ganondorf tugs Link to where he’s pressed to his chest, head forced to look right at him. Another ghastly smile is what welcomes Link, gnarled teeth sparkling as Ganondorf rumbles pleasantly, “There is something we can do; something that will give you power unknown to even The Four.”

Link tilts his head—power that is unknown? He doesn’t have to ask; Ganondorf answers anyway, like he knows what is going on in his tiny head.

“It’s called a Secret Stone. I have it on my forehead.” He points to what Link believed was a jewel all this time, and really, he still sees it as such. “And what it does… is otherworldly. I heard rumors of some being left behind in Hyrule, but they are just that: rumors. But… Link. We could try and see if there is one and if there is validity to these rumors. What do you say?”

A Secret Stone… How interesting! I feel as though I have heard about them in times passed…

If they were to investigate, that would mean hours of meetings and searching. Link has always loved adventure, but with three kids to take care of…

And I didn’t. Those three kids are scared and hurt today because of me. I…

The blond sits on the thought for an uncomfortable minute, staring at nothing in particular. His beautiful girls were abused by that monster and had to wait for Papa to save them. Papa wasn’t always going to be there, and Mama has no strength left. The girls are too young to rescue themselves, and if Link wants to be the protector he once was…

Whimpering, Link wraps his arms around Ganondorf, his voice trembling as he whispers, “Yes… Yes, let us go and… and find this stone.”

Ganondorf laughs, but quickly quiets it while he rubs his hand up and down Link’s back.

“Oh, trust me, eromenos… This is the best decision you will have ever made for me.”