To Be Real

Well, this certainly was a long time in the making. Took me about a month, I’d say. It’s a huge chapter, too; 10 pages in all. I hope it is to my audience’s liking!

I must give credit where credit is due. I read the wonderful "Twisted Futurity" and the image of that crazy-assed Cucco Lady just stuck with me. The first section of this story is a sort of "how it happened." If you don't know what I'm talking about, please, check it out at [adultfan.nexcess.net/aff/story.php?no=29693&chapter=6]. But read that after you read this! 'Cause her story is engrossing.

Read, review, and give me some ideas/insight. This chapter is pretty dirty. If you know me IRL, please don’t read this, you’ll think I’m weiiird! Lol

Rated WF for “wound f_cking.”

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The night air was warm on Anju’s skin. It was always warm and arid now that Death Mountain’s volcano was once again active. The dry wind that blew across Kakariko village was killing the grass and the trees, withering them slowly; there had been no rain in the village for months. Even the great well beneath the windmill had dried up in the heat.

Against her better judgment, Anju had snuck out so late at night because she had forgotten to water her garden. Already, her tiny tomatoes and cucumbers were withering, much to her dismay. As she watered them, the soil seemed to reject the stream and the water beaded on the clay like it would on a newly waxed car. Anju sighed with exasperation, putting down her watering can and sitting there in the dry grass, letting her head hang. Ever since Castle Town had been overtaken, all of Hyrule was left in shambles. She felt insecure and frightened whenever she left her house, but being inside all the time was depressing her deeply. This was a very emotionally taxing time for all those who were unfortunate enough to have been left alive after Ganon’s great siege.

The moon crept out from behind a silver cloud, and all of Kakariko was bathed in somber blue light. The House of Skulltula was silhouetted against the side of Anju’s house, and atop it was perched an unfamiliar shadow. Anju observed this anomaly with wide eyes and slowly she rose, grabbing her watering can. She quickly began walking for the stairs to take her to her door, murmuring a soft prayer for the goddesses’ protection as she did, but the shadow was much quicker than she. It pounced upon her, crushing her against the wall of her home and causing her to drop her watering can with a clatter. She opened her mouth to scream but was muffled by a gloved hand. Two wide ruby eyes stared into hers and the intruder used his free hand to wag a finger at her.

“Don’t…”

His gripped her left arm tightly and clasped her head to his chest as he dragged her off with him, struggling as she was, southward toward the great well. He alighted on the rim of the empty well, bringing her up with him, and the pair leapt into its depths, descending into the darkness without a sound. The minion landed in a crouch, gripping the terrified maiden tightly in his arms.

At the bottom of the well stood a great stone slab, a seal on the evil that was therein contained. It looked to be a solid wall, but Ganon’s dear creature knew better than to trust mere appearances. Closing his eyes, he fearlessly walked toward the wall, and Anju was sure he’d smack right into the boulder. But, much to her surprise, he walked right through the wall, and he brought her with him! Once they were past the magical barrier, he released his hand from her mouth. Immediately, Anju began her protest anew, violently writhing in his grip and screaming her lungs out. The minion had to struggle to keep her in check. After several minutes of incessant thrashing and yelling, the puppet of evil finally snapped, “Oh would you shut the hell up!? Nobody but the ReDeads are going to hear you down here, and do you really want them coming to your rescue?”

The puppet’s shouting shut her right up, but she continued to struggle weakly, starting to cry. “Where are you taking me?” she whimpered, only half-aware that they were walking through small, musty corridors and past foul, monstrous creatures. “Why are we down here, fairy-boy!?” The puppet hated that title, but he didn’t contest the ‘accusation’ of sorts. Ganon had told him to go about Hyrule making mischief, and this was exactly why: because he resembled the Hero so closely that it was easy for him to tarnish the golden reputation. He did not reply to the woman, but instead kept dragging her deeper and deeper into the rank chamber.

They entered into the center room, lined on each side by steel cages where hissing Skulltulas glared at them from the ceiling. In the center of the chamber was a great wooden X with chains on it, and to this the anti-hero bound his captive, struggling as she was. Wrists and ankles were fastened to the archaic torture device, and he stepped back from it when finished, drawing his black sword. The terrified woman screamed, tightly closing her eyes as he lifted the weapon, and she felt its tip graze her skin as he brought it down over her. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that she had not been struck dead, but her dress had fallen open and lazily floated to the floor.

“Now, let’s see…” The evil puppet had procured a book from his tunic and began leafing through, examining the archaic print for the incantation he sought. “Why are we here, fairy-boy? What are you doing!?” wailed the terrified Anju, blushing and panicking and crying all at once. The puppet silenced her with a wave of his hand, at the same time drawing a circle in the dust on the floor with the toe of his boot.

He snapped the volume shut and stood with his eyes closed, the book close to his parted lips. His fervent prayer was whispered in an ancient Gerudo tongue, one Anju did not recognize. She watched in horror, mesmerized, as the circle on the floor began to glow and a magical portal burst open. From beneath them came the moans of tormented souls, wailing in unspeakable agony, and a dozen rotting limbs burst forth. They desperately clawed at the floor, seeking a way out of their torment. “No no, guys, back in the hole,” calmly chastised the dark puppet. He stomped on the hands with his boot, shooing them back into their imprisonment. Out from the hole in the floor seeped shadow, flowing out between the quivering arms, filling up the chamber like a shallow river. It flowed past the puppet’s feet and over Anju’s ankles. The temperature was arctic and she yelped at the shock.

Between the pair began forming the great shadow creature, a shapeless mass that towered over them both. Great purple eyes glared down at Anju hungrily and a mouth opened in the creature, a long tongue lolling from the gaping orifice. “Brother Shadow, so nice of you to join us,” cooed Ganon’s minion, bowing cordially. “You have been summoned by the great Ganondorf to sodomize this village’s graveyard and breathe life into the Shadow Temple. We-” The puppet was interrupted – how rude! – by Anju’s terrified wail, as the creature was tasting her soft flesh with his lengthy forked tongue. “We realize that you have no form yet, Brother,” he went on as the evil creature circled the maiden, glaring upon her with hungry eyes. “Master Ganon is making for you now a worthy body to inhabit. We hope it will be to your liking. And, of course, to ensure your cooperation,” he motioned to Anju with a flourish, “we offer you a virgin for your troubles.”

The shadow creature consented to the wishes of Ganondorf by diving right in to the virgin sacrifice. Her screams were horrified and desperate as this brutal creature ravaged her like no man ever could. Leaving the two to their play, the dark minion exited the chamber, toting Ganon’s book with him. The echoes of Anju’s screams followed him all the way out of the village.

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The black smog that suffocated Hyrule’s Castle Town had thickened with the dark king’s vile mood. The atmosphere was so heavy that even a ReDead would have trouble breathing. Storm clouds gathered about the town and thunder rumbled in the skies; rain was eminent. The lightening that flashed in the clouds silhouetted Ganon’s great tower against the whiteness of the sky. For weeks, the king had been irritable and angry, shunning his minions, his servants, and even the sisters Twinrova. He would let no one tend to him. He did not eat, he would not sleep, and he had recently begun neglecting his dear pet. Nay, he just paced about and roared in helpless anger. It had been seven long years of ‘peace’ in his kingdom, but now, finally, his fears had come true.

The Hero had returned.

Ganon was brooding in his great throne room at the pinnacle of his tower. His large legs, thick as tree trunks, were spread wide as he sat hunched down in his chair. One massive paw half-hid his face as he glared into the pier glass before him. The glass was a magic mirror through which he could spy on any part of his kingdom at any time. Through it, he now observed the young Hylian hero valiantly battling against Ganon’s phantom, slicing him to pieces with the baneful Master Sword. The massacre of the magnificent mannequin was almost too painful to watch.

Ganon had known all along that Link would return someday; it had been fated him, foretold by legend. The mighty Gerudo had been helpless to destroy the Kokiri while he was sealed away within the Sacred Realm, so he was given no choice but to fortify his new kingdom against the Hero’s efforts. He had imprisoned the six holy sages, created hundreds upon thousands of dreadful minions to fend off Link, and fashioned six deadly dungeons to hopefully entrap and kill him, each with their own fearsome beasts within. But building all of these defenses was hard work and Ganon had borne the responsibility himself, perfectionist as he was. The Forest Temple had been completed with the installment of his Phantom, of whom Link was now making quick work. The Fire Temple, too, was finished, but that had been rushed; Volvagia was not a creature of Ganon’s own design but a resurrected fire-spirit that he merely “borrowed” from ancient lore. The Water Temple was complete save for one element, and that was the imp that had been scampering about his tower for the past several weeks. The puppet had not been appointed to his guard yet because Ganon was becoming much too fond of his company. Now he had was currently working on the Shadow Temple, sewing together two great hands for Kakariko’s evil shadow to manipulate, and he had just finished with the second when word came to him from an injured Moblin that Link had returned. His time was running short…

The great Gerudo sat on his throne for a long while, pondering his next move in this intricate game of chess. “Where is my creation!?” he bellowed, sending away the mirror with a wave of his great paw. The tall doors to his throne room opened a crack and something like a black puddle slithered in through the door. It snaked up along the broad red carpet and stopped at a respectable distance from its master. Out of the small shadow sprang the form of Ganondorf’s perfect minion. He had come directly upon hearing his Master’s voice echo in the town. He was down on one knee, his right arm crossed over his chest and his fist poised over his heart. His head was bowed and eyes were closed. On his back rested an onerous shield emblazoned with the inverted Triforce and beneath that was sheathed a dark replica of the Master Sword. He was the purest example of loyalty and honor that Ganon had ever laid eyes on.

“Master,” he spoke in a low voice, now opening those crimson eyes, “I await your instruction.”

Ganondorf rose from his chair and tossed his cape behind him. “I know that you’ve witnessed my anger during these past few sleepless nights,” he spoke in a low, exhausted tone. “When I took control of this kingdom near seven years ago today, my greatest dream came to fruition. But now comes the ‘hero,’ the one who will destroy my precious kingdom and all who rest in its peace.” This unsettling news prompted the minion to lift his head irreverently, looking unto his Master with confusion in his eyes. “Although I’ve placed immense obstacles in his path,” snorted the Gerudo, “he is struggling through the labyrinth with surprising speed, and with no evidence of losing hope.

“My puppet,” he said, turning to his guest now with a flourish, “the time has come for you to serve your purpose. Look here!” The precious pier glass now hovered across the room and halted before the minion. He beheld Death Mountain in all its fiery glory and noticed a lone, stupid creature attempting to scale the treacherous heights. Ganon snuck around behind his creature and leaned in closely, near whispering into the pointed ear, which twitched upon feeling his warm breath. “This, my pet, is your brother, the one for whom you were so carefully molded after. You are his very mirror image, nay, his shadow - his dark side. He is the one threatening my royal reign of this blessed, shadowy land. His purpose is to kill us, my pet!” He saw the twin rubies dilate with anger and fear, and he grinned with satisfaction. “You possess all of his strengths and abilities. You have the power and the cunning to outwit this simple forest creature. It is he who you were destined to defeat!” The cold scarlet eyes followed the small green warrior as he struggled scale the crag’s heights. He looked tired and weak. “Surely, this can’t be my brother,” said the darker twin, his lip curling as he sneered. “He seems far too feminine to be the Hero…”

“Ah! Don’t underestimate your foes, my dear spawn,” said Ganon, whisking the mirror away. He motioned for his puppet to rise but still he towered over him, smiling maliciously. “ I am sending you forth to the Water Temple, and you will wait for him there. I have constructed for you a stadium where you can easily overpower him, an endless fog broken by a single tree.” Ganon’s volume began building in a frenzied crescendo. “There you will meet him when he comes, and there will you quash his journey! Kill him, my puppet, kill him and protect your country! Send him to his grave and ensure the future of this kingdom! Kill him and claim for yourself his name: Link!”

The name echoed though the halls of the tower like a resounding clap of thunder. The puppet’s eyes were wide with desire and his mouth watered at the thought of bloodshed. He had trained for weeks at the hands of his Master, withstanding abuse and beatings that brought him within inches of his life. All these preparations had lead up to this moment, this chance to defeat his twin for the pleasure of his Master. Once this simple objective was complete, then would the puppet finally have a name, the name he would steal from a dead hero.

The Gephetto stood looking down at his puppet with great affection and pride. He was tremulous with emotion. “I expect great things of you, my creature,” he rumbled, procuring a black pointed hat – resembling the caps of the Kokiri – from behind his back. In an almost loving gesture, he straightened out the hat with his great fingers and fitted it to the puppet’s head, much to his dismay. After his master straightened his bangs to resemble the Hero’s exactly, the shadow-creature lowered his head out of respect before he spoke.

“I swear, Master, I will not fail you.”

The gates of Ganon’s Tower were flung open to let in the driving rain, and out galloped the shadow, riding a fabulous ebony steed. They stopped just before leaving the courtyard and turned back to face the tower. Ganon stood at the very top, grinning at his pet from his balcony. “Ride, my creature, ride! The fate of our Hyrule rests upon your shoulders!!”

The dark minion gave a triumphant howl before riding off toward the distant Lake Hylia. Ganon’s eyes followed him into the castle town and out onto Hyrule plain, where he became nothing more than a mere dot on the horizon. Concern and worry marred his face as he turned and reentered his throne room, going back to his labor over Bongo-Bongo’s body. He was sure that his creature would at least stall the hero, but Link was resilient. Although the outcome of the battle was uncertain, he hoped for the best.

The black horse’s hooves sent spatters of rain flying as they pounded the ground, and water was soaking into the minion’s tunic. He did not care; his foremost concern was to reach the Water Temple, and there to head off the Hero before he could get any deeper into Ganon’s defenses.

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Of course, we all know how this ends.

As the Hero entered through the northern door of the chamber and the gates came down behind him, the sinister shadow opened his eyes. He had immersed himself in meditation for days and had remained so until the Hero appeared. “I must defeat him,” he repeated to himself as a mantra, “for the good of the kingdom…and for my father.” The small prayer was murmured one last time as he watched the hero move from one end of the arena to the other, seeking an exit. While the hero’s back was turned, the anti-hero materialized himself.

“This room is like an endless puddle!” squeaked an unfamiliar voice. Out from the hero’s hat flitted a tiny, glowing fairy who fluttered about, investigating the area. While she explored, Link wrapped his hands around the bars on the exit and yanked at them, but to no avail. “This door is stuck, Navi,” sighed the hero. The sound of his voice made the evil creature’s skin crawl, but at the same time he noticed the fatigue in Link’s tone. “Let’s see if we can find another.” He turned then and began running off into the ‘fog,’ but he only ran a few feet before he slammed right into an invisible wall. With a startled yelp, he slid to the floor and held a bleeding nose, his eyes wide with pain.

The scene made the dark twin chortle, and the small noise caught the fairy’s attention. “Link!” she exclaimed, and her surprised tone brought the hero to his feet. Staring out across the abyss at Link was another, just like him in size and in shape, leaning against that lone tree with his arms folded over his broad chest. “Welcome, Hero, to your tomb,” he snarled, casually drawing his sword and readying his shield. Link did not hesitate to do the same, and the two promptly charged each other, their war cries echoing off unseen walls. The dual Master Swords met between them.

The shadow’s main advantage over his adversary was that he’d been resting and preparing for this battle for days, while the hero had been running around the temple and was therefore almost exhausted. Their fighting styles were identical and their blades met each time between them, but the Hero was giving slightly to the shadow’s force and he was backing himself into a wall. When Link pulled back for a jab, his elbow slammed into the dungeon wall and pain shot up his arm. Before he could move, the shadow had lodged the blade of his sword between the hilt and the blade of the Master Sword. With a deft twist, he wrenched the weapon from his adversary’s grasp and threw it across the room. The Master Sword struck the tree and became lodged in its trunk. Before Link could react, the dark sword was beneath his chin, nipping at his neck and holding him pinned to the wall behind him.

“Well well, mighty hero,” mused the puppet as he closed in on his prey. Both were amazed at just how identical they were; Ganondorf’s handiwork was immaculate. The only difference was that the dark twin hated the tacky Kokiri cap. That had been tossed away long ago in favor of his ponytail. “It seems you have lost hardly before we have begun to fight. Poor thing, you look tired…” He twisted the blade and its deadly tip drew blood from Link’s neck. “…perhaps an eternal sleep will ease your soul.”

The dark puppet took after his Master; he was enjoying his treachery far too much to let it end quickly. He watched a thin trickle of blood run down the hero’s neck, and the faint smell of it enticed him so. “Mmm,” he murmured as a demented smile twisted his face. He leaned in and touched his nose to Link’s chin, easing him gently to tilt his head back, and he traced the tip of his tongue along the trail of blood. The taste was sweet and warm, and he vainly sought more. He shifted his sword out of the way and pressed his lips against the small wound he’d made, violating the tiny orifice with his tongue. The crimson eyes were half-closed and as he suckled on the wound, tearing it open with his tongue, and he watched goosebumps prickle Link’s skin. The sound of shifting fabric alerted him to the hero’s movements. The dark shield hit the ground with a clatter and the puppet caught Link’s left wrist in a strong grip, bringing it up to eye-level. Within the gloved hand was a strange brown seed that glowed gold within. “No tricks, Hero,” sneered the puppet. Link snarled, exerting mighty force to flex his sore arm, and he threw the tiny weapon in his adversary’s face.

The blinding flash was a shock to him and pain spread like fire over his face. He held his face and cursed in a foreign tongue as Link slipped away from him. The puppet heard heavy footsteps running off toward the dead tree, and he gripped his sword strongly in one hand. With a mighty lunge, he blindly threw his sword like a javelin in the direction of those footsteps. The Hero’s anguished cry let him know that he hit his target and he plodded off in that direction, rubbing madly at his eyes to eradicate the spots.

When he reached the Hero, he coldly glared down at his handiwork. The sword had pierced Link through the middle from behind. The puppet grasped the hilt and wrenched the weapon out of Link’s body, and the Hylian screamed in agony. The pungent scent of blood was getting the minion aroused and as he sat himself on Link’s back, Link could feel an unfamiliar bulge poking him. He didn’t have time to dwell on that discomfort, though, as the puppet had taken his bangs and wrenched his head back, bending his spine at a painful angle.

“Why must you resist, you stupid dog?” growled the puppet as he pressed his cheek against Link’s. The hero’s warm tears moistened his skin. “I’m trying to do you a favor here, to grant you eternal rest. Aren’t you tired of being Hyrule’s bitch?” Link clenched his jaw, closing his eyes tightly as his brow twitched in pain. “L-Look who’s talking…You’re nothing bu-ut Ganondorf’s bi-itch…” While Link struggled to speak, the puppet felt his trousers becoming moist. Looking down, he saw that Link’s blood was seeping into his clothes. With a snarl, he pressed his rock-hard bulge into the gushing wound, eliciting a pained cry from the fallen hero. “Nonsense, Hero,” he spoke calmly, “none of us are Ganon’s slaves. We serve him will-…-ingly….” His voice trailed off as he felt an unfamiliar twinge in his body. He looked down at himself quizzically, wondering why his hips were involuntarily shifting. Ganon really had made him pretty damn well; he had urges he didn’t even know existed.

He didn’t know why he was doing it, but the movement was clearly paining the hero, who clenched his teeth and growled in pain. Therefore, he continued with gusto. “We serve Ganon willingly, Hero, all of us! You stand no chance against our might.” He planted his hands on the ground on either side of himself, letting Link’s face fall to the floor, and continued thrusting harder, covering his entire lower half in the Hero’s blood. The warmth soothed his strange urge while at the same time augmenting it, and he closed his eyes as his breathing quickened, the occasional grunt escaping his lips. With each thrust, he was disrupting Link’s bruised innards, and the hero’s eyes rolled in pain as he cried out, partially muffled by the shallow pool of blood and water that he was drowning in. Navi squeaked in horror and flew to Link’s side, concealing herself at his belt. The shadow noticed her despite her efforts and grabbed her in one great paw. “Get lost, firefly,” he snarled, trying to yank her away from her partner. She held something tightly in her hands, though, and was not letting go. As he pulled her away – which she was counting on him doing – he was also pulling the cork that she had such a tight grip on. When the cork gave with a pop, he held the fairy at eye-level, snarling. But then he noticed the bottle-stopper. What was that for?

Up from the floor rose a lovely pink fairy. She emitted a soft, healing light that made the minion hiss and shrink back in anger. He dismounted the fallen hero and stumbled back, shielding his eyes from the light, getting as far from it as possible. His ears caught the sound of the Master Sword being freed from its imprisonment and opening his eyes, he beheld a shiny new hero. Link stood with a snarl scrawled across his handsome face, his sword and shield ready in his hands again. The feat so stunned the puppet that he couldn’t seem to move for several minutes. Link was trembling with anger and hatred and the emotion evident in his eyes captivated the confused young minion. Again he felt that strange, pleasing twinge, and an awkward smile subconsciously passed his lips.

Link eyes were lit with rage as he lunged at his doppelganger and slashed for his chest, drawing blood with the Master Sword. There was something odd about this sword that made the wound sting terribly. The evil puppet sprang back with a yelp and faded into nothingness, reappearing behind Link, at his tree. He clutched his wound tightly and although it was small compared to what he was accustomed to, it burned like fire. Looking down, he noticed that the wound was getting larger. The holy Master Sword was searing his skin. The minion’s sword and shield returned to his hands, and he was again ready to fight, although now much more defensive than before.

The Hylian twins went at it again for several more minutes. It was now Link who had the upper hand. His renewed body and seething anger had quickened his movements and sharpened his skills. He quickly realized that he would not win this battle with the sword. The dark twin took a slash for his head and Link blocked with the Master Sword. His grip weakened and he let the sword be torn from his grip. “Ha!” weakly chuckled the injured puppet, “what will you do without your only weapon?”

“My only weapon?” The dark puppet looked with astonishment upon his rival, who had three deadly arrows strung upon his bow. He let them fly and each pierced the evil minion: one in the chest, the stomach, and the leg. These, too, melted his flesh away as though tipped with acid. He cried out in shock and dropped his sword and shield, reaching down to try and pull them out, panicking.

Something thick, heavy, and sharp now buried itself in the minion’s gut, twisting around his innards and locking itself in before wrenching him toward the Hero. The hookshot was a deadly weapon when used on an enemy. Link was now the dominant of the pair, towering over the struggling minion who dangled helplessly from the hookshot, blood pouring into the water below him and staining it crimson. He struggled in vain, his pupils dilating in fear, his long tongue lolling out as he began to unintelligibly hiss and babble. The more he struggled, the more pain he felt; the sadist weapon was tearing him apart inside. Link grabbed him by the throat and pulled him up to eye-level, sneering into the panicking eyes. “Nobody likes a doppelganger,” he murmured, a pure coldness in those blue eyes. He took up the Master Sword was turned around in his fist and with a great heave, he buried the blade into his evil twin’s face.

The body fell lifeless as the fog in the room began dissipating. The south door was un-barred and Link went through without struggle. The dark puppet quietly sobbed on the floor into the miserable puddle of his blood, and slowly he sank into the water. He vanished, cast out of the temple by Ganon’s power.

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Ganondorf was toiling again at the top of his tower. In his two great arms, he held a massive ocular orb, muscles straining to uphold that which would be Bongo-Bongo’s eye. He had created the head thus far and carefully inserted the gigantic eye into its socket. A soft incantation magically held the orb in place so that he could go around the figure and attach the eye inside the beast. As he went around and began working on the delicate eye-socket, he heard that voice again. His dear puppet, the damned failure, lay crumpled on the ground far below Ganon’s balcony, wailing hysterically as he clung to the edge of the lava pit. The bridge had been taken down, so there was no way for him to reach his home.

“Father!” he cried hoarsely, “Father, let me in! Please!! I’m hurt!” He sobbed pathetically, digging his bloody fingers into the hole in his stomach. Although it was a wound he would survive, it still hurt more than the others. Damned Master Sword. “Father, please! Don’t abandon me!!”

Ganon found that he couldn’t work with the puppet carrying on like that outside. His hands were shaking with emotion and as he abandoned his work, he challenged his emotion into rage. He stormed out onto his balcony and glared down upon his creation, his eyes full of disappointment and rage. “Don’t you dare call me that again!” he bellowed, and the creature’s exasperated caterwauling followed. His chest heaved with shallow breath and he struggled to lift himself up. “Please, let me in!” he implored again, raising one hand to his surrogate now. “I’m begging you, Father!”

Ganon’s bowels moved within him and he felt as though he was going to be ill. He gripped the banister tightly but his rage faltered for a moment as he beheld the miserable creature. Blood-soaked and battered by rain, the puppet lay in a small lake of his own lifeblood. A great open wound marred his face; the Hero had stabbed him through his mouth, from one cheek through to the other, thus considerably widening the orifice. With each heartfelt cry, one could see his diaphragm contract with the effort of extracting air from his lungs. The puppeteer recalled vividly just how he had installed the great muscle, stretching it tight across the ribcage to get it taut. The minion’s fingers and hair were caked with blood and his face was mutilated with blood and tears and dirt, for he had a great ordeal in dragging himself back to the castle. “Father! Father!!” he screamed over and over again, his vocal chords just about snapping in his throat. He tried to lift himself up, to bring himself closer to his dear parent, but the effort exhausted him. He slumped down to the ground, his face twisted in agony, and his head hung over the edge of the fire pit. He lay wheezing, paling as his veins slowly began drying up.

No matter how much he cared for his creature, Ganon could demand nothing less than perfection from any of his minions. Rather than teleporting himself outside, he opted for the long way out, descending his massive tower by way of the stairs. What seemed like hours later, the bridge reformed outside of the tower door and the great Gerudo’s footsteps shook the earth as he traversed it. He stopped a mere few feet from his puppet. His voice was low and the deafening rain made their conversation quite personal.

“You failed me,” he quietly rumbled. His tone was calm and he did not seem angry. The puppet turned to face his master, his cheeks streaked with tears, his eyes red from crying. “M-Master… h-his sword bit like f-f-fire…” Slowly, carefully, he extended his arms and began dragging himself across the ground, toward his Master. “A-And he had more than just that. He h-had this terrible, awful weapon… with a chain…” “I know, my pet,” crooned the Gerudo, closing his eyes. “Master!” wailed the injured minion, now clinging to his creator’s ankles. He hugged his father’s legs just below his knees, burying his face into the muscles and sobbing again. “Master, I failed you!” he cried, retracting into a fetal position.

Ganon opened his eyes again, gazing down upon his creature, who instead of begging for his life agonized over his failure. “I have invested too much time into you to destroy you as I have my other creations,” he spoke, reaching down to lift his creature up by the nape of his neck. The minion hung lazily, just as he had when he had been born, but now much gorier than before. “Just because I’m letting you live,” he murmured, “doesn’t mean that you will go unpunished.”

Ganon’s eyes burned into his little minion’s soul, even as he healed up the garish wounds. “Take your weapons and go. I do not want to see a trace of you in this castle town unless you have exterminated the Hero yourself. Follow him, find him, and do your best to get rid of him. You are dead to me,” snarled the evil king, “unless you succeed in this task.

“So go!” he yelled, tossing his puppet away once he was healed. He landed again in his pool of blood and it spattered onto his skin, replacing the dried tears. The minion looked helplessly upon his master, searching for some sympathy, for some trace of compassion in his eyes. Ganon turned away, reassuring his pet of his disappointment.

“And should anyone ask who you are, tell them that you are ‘Dark Link.’ Worthless creature: borrow the hero’s name until you have fulfilled your purpose.”