Clearer in Time

XII. The Sands of Time(pt.I)

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It was like a stormy sea, the wasteland. The wind raged furiously, obscuring vision and dulling the other senses. It was late in the night, but the moon could not be seen in the sky. It was shrouded from view by the deceptive veil of the storm.

Unseen through the turbulent wall of sand were three small tents. Even through the spells of fortification that kept them on the ground, the makeshift quarters gusted violently in the dry desert breeze.

One of the tents came unfastened and a figure stepped out into the dark tempest. The figures eyes were closed tightly shut. This was not only to keep the sand from blinding him. It was easier to see this way. The only way.

Nabooru had given Link and Sheik strict instructions to stay within their tents once night had fallen. They would continue their journey in the morning and be at the Spirit Temple before the sunset the next day.

Once he was outside, Link immediately realized why Nabooru had given such a cryptic warning. He also understood why this desert was called the Haunted Wasteland. The desert was alive with illusion. The skin of reality was writhing with an infestation of deceit. Creatures appeared and dematerialized again before they fully took shape. The sand formed faces within itself and screamed out into the night. There even seemed to be voices in his head. The wind rubbed against Link’s body seductively, enticing him to wander away from the safety of the camp, to become lost within the desert.

Only with the Eye of Truth could Link see through the illusions. The ancient Sheikah technique was proving invaluable to this journey, he thought to himself with a smile. It was, in fact, because of something the Eye had seen that he was leaving the tent in the first place. Link, eyes still shut, trod through the deep, loose sand towards one of the other two tents. The entrance flap was already unfastened. He entered.

To his surprise, she was not asleep. She sat facing him, as if she had been waiting for him. Her face was solemn.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” Nabooru said with a weak smile. Link sat down across from her. Between them on the floor of the tent was a small mound of sand.

“So,” Nabooru continued. “I’m sure you’ve caught on by now. It doesn’t really take the Eye of Truth to see it.” Link nodded, but said nothing.

“No, I am not in allegiance with Ganondorf,” Nabooru said. “None of the Gerudo are truly loyal to him. He has ruthlessly conquered the land at the cost of many innocent lives, and has turned his back on his own people.” She turned her gaze away sadly. “He wasn’t always such a monster…”

Link frowned, puzzled. What was she talking about?

“The Gerudo, like all the other people of Hyrule, have no choice but to live under Ganondorf’s reign. Our people are now despised by the rest of the land, for our apparent allegiance to the Evil King.”

Link said nothing. The Gerudo woman had finished speaking, but the air still seemed tense. There was something she wasn’t saying, something she was dying to relieve herself of. She met Link’s eyes and seemed to read what he was thinking.

“You’re a sharp one, Link,” Nabooru said. “There is much yet to say, but… it is difficult for me. Still, I think it is something you should know. I can see you are determined to save Hyrule, but to do so will take immense courage and strength. Power. And power is something that can corrupt the purest of hearts…”

Nabooru said nothing more. She waved her hand over the mound of fine sand between them. It began to swirl magically like a whirlpool. The center of it began to twist and distort, showing a picture, a window into the past…

…

The sun shone brightly through the clear sky over the Gerudo Fortress, painting the heavens a perfect blue. Nabooru was alone, knocking another arrow to her bow.

She was twenty years younger. All the beauty she still held in her present time was now magnified tenfold, an absolute portrait of loveliness. She was dressed in her usual white desert clothes, and her long fiery hair was still pulled in a strict ponytail. It lay on her shoulder as she pulled back and fired her arrow, sparkling golden eyes open and locking onto her target. It speeded through the air and hit the mark with a dull thunk. Another bulls-eye.

The young Nabooru smiled at the cluster of arrows protruding from the center of the target. She was becoming quite skilled with a bow. At nineteen, she had already mastered both the halberd and scimitars, an adept warrior. If she kept training, perhaps she would one day become Head of the Gerudo Guard. The title was her dream, the highest ranking of the Gerudo tribe. Besides the king, of course…

Nabooru made to knock another arrow, but stopped when her ears caught something. Voices carried on the wind throughout the village. Many voices, young women’s voices.
Nabooru grinned and shouldered her bow, hurrying out of the archery field and towards the fortress.

As she had expected, there was a large crowd gathered around one of the entrances of the fortress. Head after head of wild red hair bobbed up and down in excitement, the source of their joy hidden within the crowd. Nabooru didn’t need to guess. This happened every day. The voices of the young Gerudo women cried out in excitement as Nabooru made her way through the crowd. Finally she squeezed up through to the front.

The crowd of Gerudo, all Nabooru’s friends and peers, were gathered around a single figure. A handsome young man. The heir to the Gerudo Throne, Ganondorf.

The desert man looked dramatically different in his younger years. He was smaller, for one. Still extremely muscular, but not unnaturally massive, as he would be later as the Evil King. His skin was not ominously blackened yet, but naturally darkened by the desert sun, the dark color accenting his young, handsome features, features that did not differ too incredibly from Link‘s own. His hair was still long and wild, red like fire. The Gerudo man was not wearing the dark armor and gauntlets that Link would’ve recognized, but desert clothes of a light material, as most of the Gerudo did. His, however, were a simple black in shade, rather than the prettily decorated white or lavender that the women donned. He smiled at the company of exited young women, causing them to squeal out in reply.

The young women of the Gerudo tribe fawned over Ganondorf to no end, even more so recently. The time was soon when the young man would ascend the throne, and then he would choose a wife. Everyday, when he emerged from the fortress from his studying and training with his instructors, the crowd of women were there, waiting for him.

Then, like clockwork, came the witches. Emerging from the fortress at surprising speed for such frail looking old women.

“Alright,” one of the two witches cried out. “That’s enough! Leave our boy alone now, you greedy young tramps!” There came a collective groan of disappointment as the crowd began to dissipate. The witches smiled in cruel satisfaction. There were two of them, Koume and Kotake. Both were identically powerful and identically ugly. They were shriveled, stumpy examples of Gerudo, so old that their once scarlet hair had long since turned gray. They looked to be at least a century old, but Nabooru suspected that they were much older. The two of them acted as surrogate mothers to Ganondorf, having raised him from childhood. Nowadays, they were his instructors and mentors, training the Gerudo Heir in everything from schooling to weapon’s play, to foreign relations to sorcery.

The crowd faded off and Nabooru watched as Ganondorf disappeared into the fortress. His quarters were hidden within the stronghold, so that none of the young women might disturb him. Nabooru waited until everybody was back to there own business, and then entered the fortress herself.

She made her way through the halls, taking endless lefts and rights. She knew the way so well that she could’ve found it with her eyes closed, but needed to keep them open, lest anyone spot her.

Finally she came to a door at the end of a hallway. She entered without knocking.

Inside, the room was dark. There were windows, but the curtains were drawn, so that only a faint impression of sunlight peered in. There was a large, neatly made bed against the wall, and not much else within the room in the way of furniture. There was nobody inside, it appeared. As Nabooru looked around, she felt a hand upon her side. She smiled and turned to face her lover.

“I was hoping you would hurry up here,” Ganondorf said. His voice was not gravely or vile, but young and full of tender affection. “I’ve been thinking of you all day.” He leaned down to Nabooru and kissed her. She melted into his embrace, feeling weak in the knees. The young Gerudo man brushed the fingers of one hand lightly across her skin as he kissed at her neck. His other hand carefully unfastened Nabooru’s ponytail, letting her long fiery hair fall over her shoulders.

The two of them stumbled towards the bed, still embracing each other. Nabooru fell backwards onto the mattress and watched as her lover removed his tunic. His body was less like something mortal and more like some divine sculpture, every last muscle perfectly toned and defined. He stared lovingly at her, his features handsome and so young, almost boyish.

Ganondorf joined Nabooru on the bed, propping himself over her as they resumed their kiss. They broke apart once more, so that Nabooru could remove her top, exposing her beautiful, tanned breasts. Ganondorf held himself up with one arm, while the other hand began to caress her newly exposed globes of flesh. He teased one of her nipples between his fingers, causing her to sigh into his mouth.

He broke the kiss and proceeded to trail his lips down her neck and to her chest. While his hand still played with one, he put his mouth to Nabooru’s other nipple, tracing his tongue around the sensitive circle. Nabooru moaned and arched her back, combing the fingers of one of her hands through his long red hair.

Ganondorf continued down the length of her body, expertly unfastening her pants and revealing the rest of her body. Running his hands up and down her shapely legs, he kissed down along the lines of her hips, down to the insides of her legs. She gasped sharply as he began to lick at her center, heat radiating from her. She used her own hands to fondle with her breasts, smiling and groaning in ecstasy as her lover pleasured her.

Nabooru felt herself tightening, close to the edge. Ganondorf pulled away and positioned himself back over her, muscular arms propped up on either side of her head. She used her hands to unfasten the tie of his pants, sliding them down to his ankles, revealing his large, anxious manhood.

He positioned himself between her legs, pressing against her gently. Her trimmed hair tickled at him as he slid inside. Nabooru cried out and grasped at his muscular back, clawing at him.

Her lover thrust slowly, letting them both enjoy each delicious sensation of friction. Ganondorf let his arms rest and lay upon her, Nabooru’s ample breasts pressed softly against his chest. They rocked together, gradually quickening. Nabooru’s heavy breathing slowly became loud groans. She arched her body and clawed at Ganondorf’s back, feeling herself on the brink.

Then she came, biting down hard on his shoulder to silence herself. Wave after wave ran through her, making her shudder against his body. He came soon afterward, gasping as she felt him release inside her. He collapsed onto his stomach and kissed his lover.

They stayed in the bed that way for a time afterwards, talking as the sunlight peeked through the drawn curtains.

…

They told each other of their days, and how they had spent them. Nabooru told of her improving accuracy with her bow, and he of his newly learned skills. He showed her what he spoke of.

“I’m getting better at it,” he said, both of them looking at his hand. It was glowing a dark, ominous purple color, seemingly engulfed in lavender flames. “Mother says I’ll have mastered it before I’m king.”

Nabooru watched him fiddle with the spell with a mix of amazement and unease. It was indeed impressive… but it was dark magic, she knew. Black magic. The witches’ own. Nabooru didn’t trust Koume or Kotake in the least. True, they were Ganondorf’s “mothers,” but they were wicked and cruel, a negative influence in her lover‘s life. It was a wonder that Ganondorf had turned out as good as he had. She smiled as she thought it. It faded, however, when she looked to her lover’s face.

He looked troubled, somehow. His eyes were sad.

“What’s the matter, love?” Nabooru inquired. Ganondorf did not look at her when he replied.

“I’m soon to be king…” he started.

“That’s a good thing, darling,” Nabooru consoled him. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll make a fine ruler. You’ll be strong and wise, and make a better home for our people.”

He smiled. She knew it was his dream to take the Gerudo away from the desert. The arid climate of the sand was so harsh, so unforgiving. The entire race was only as large as a clan, due to all of the deaths by exposure. Children and the elderly mostly.

“Someday,” he would always say, “I’ll take our people away from the sand, and make a better home for us in Hyrule.” Nabooru, not yet a thief, had never been there, but Ganondorf had told her of it’s beauty.

“It’s not that,” Ganondorf said. “In order to ascend the throne, there’s one more thing I must do…” Nabooru was nervous now. He sounded genuinely worried. What could it be?

“What do you have to do?” she asked.

“I have to leave,” Ganondorf replied. Nabooru’s heart seemed to sink into her stomach. What?

“Leave?” she almost yelled. “Where are you going?”

“It’s the last right of passage,” he continued. “Before a Gerudo man can become king. In a week’s time, I must travel through the Haunted Wasteland, and find the Spirit Temple, by myself. It‘s a year’s journey.”

Nabooru’s heart leapt from the pit of her stomach and into her throat, it seemed. The Haunted Wasteland? If one knew the way across, it was a few days to the Spirit Temple. Only a select few did, however. To try to pass through it without a guide almost certainly doomed one to be lost forever.

Nabooru wrapped her arms tightly around her lover’s middle. Tears were flowing from her eyes. “You can’t go!” she cried. “You’ll die! You can‘t leave me here for a year!”

Ganondorf embraced her and calmed her. “Few kings have died in the wasteland,” he said. “Gerudo Kings are born strong. Have faith in me.” He held her patiently until her tears subsided. Finally she took her face from his chest and looked at him.

“Promise me that you will return,” she said. “Promise that you will come back for me.”

Ganondorf looked into her eyes. “I promise,” he said. “I will return, and I will choose you as my bride.” He brushed at her fiery red locks, touching her lips, wiping away her tears. “I will become King of the Gerudo, and I will make a better life for us. A life where we can live without fear of the sand, where we needn’t be known as a clan of thieves.” He kissed Nabooru’s lips.

“This, I swear.”

Nabooru smiled. Ganondorf was leaving her for a year. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. He would return, as promised, and they would be married. And on the bright side, they still had a week together.

“I love you,” Nabooru said.

“I love you, too,” Ganondorf said to her. She looked into his golden eyes. She was nervous now. Ganondorf wasn’t the only one with surprising news to share. How could she say it? She had to tell him, before the week was out. Better just to say it, before she lost the nerve.

“I have something to tell you,” she said quietly, as if hoping he wouldn’t hear. He did.

“What is it?” he asked, looking puzzled. Nabooru was silent for a moment, her nerves almost getting the better of her. She took a deep breath and said it.

“I’m pregnant,” she said. “With your child.”

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To "NinjaSheik" and "mikey", thanks for the reviews, you two.
To "sutur," if you're still reading this. I'm still urging you to continue with your fic. I think people were liking it : )
And to all who actually read this, thanks for reading. Please Read/Rate/Review, tell me what you think. I'd love to hear it. Until "The Sands of Time(pt.II), I suppose : )