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Ganondorf decided to spend the last day of his life fishing.
Guilt prickled in his chest. He ought to be with his mothers, to see them one last time before the world ended, but he could already imagine their tearful faces (“I don’t mind dying,” Koume would say, “but you are far too young, my child.”) and he did not think he could bear it. Perhaps he ought to go to Great Bay, to attempt to reconcile with his sister who he had not seen in years now, but he imagined her sneering face and knew there were few people he’d rather see less. Or perhaps he ought to be at the Clock Town milk bar to thank Mr. Barten for all the shows; the only reason Ganondorf ever enjoyed going into the city.
(There was one other person Ganondorf would have liked to see before he died, but he’d discarded the thought as soon as he’d had it. She would have more important people to say goodbye to, anyway.)
So he sat alone in a chair at the edge of his dock, fishing rod in hand, and watched the moon grow ever larger in the sky. Its face was twisted, with hatred or pain or fear Ganondorf could not tell. Had it always looked like that? He could not recall.
When he had first heard talk of the moon crashing into Termina, he had dismissed it as nonsense. The moon rising and falling each day was a fact of life; for that to stop would be as absurd as the sun blinking out, or the fish growing legs, or Koume and Kotake stopping their bickering. But the moon had continued to grow in the sky, and now he could deny it no longer. It would hit Termina tonight – perhaps tomorrow morning if they were lucky – and then that would be it.
He sighed as he cast out his fishing line again.
It was fitting that he would die here, he supposed. This was his refuge, his place to be alone and at peace with nature, to listen to nothing but the reeling of his fishing rod and quiet trickle of water feeding into his pond from the nearby swamp –
A bell rang out; the door to his fishing hole opening.
“Did you not read the sign?” Ganondorf snapped without turning around. “We’re closed.”
“Oh, my apologies,” said a familiar voice, light with amusement. “I can leave if you like.”
He quickly spun (nearly tangling himself in fishing line in the process; his ears felt hot with embarrassment). She was there, still wearing the uniform her boss had her wear at her own fishing hole in Great Bay, her blonde hair tied back in a single braid. Strands fell messily from it, framing her face in a way that Ganondorf found very appealing. She must have come here quickly, he thought.
“Sorry, I… I thought you were a customer,” he muttered. “You can stay… Zelda.”
Her amused grin softened as she entered the fishing hole. She grabbed a chair and dragged it out to the side of the pond to sit next to him. “Closed early today?” she asked.
Ganondorf nodded. “Some kid came by this morning,” he said. “Pulled a sword on me.”
“What?”
“Yeah,” Ganondorf grunted. “Then he said he’d mixed me up with someone else and asked to go fishing.” He rolled his eyes. “I kicked him out and closed up – decided I’d seen enough people for one day. There’s something wrong with kids these days…”
Zelda laughed. “You’re starting to sound like your mothers.”
“You’ve never met my mothers.”
“And whose fault is that, huh?”
Ganondorf did not reply. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Zelda to know his mothers – he was certain Kotake and Koume would adore her (if only because he did) – but if they were to meet, then inevitably Zelda would hear the story of how they had become his mothers. She would hear about his birthright, and how he had thrown it away. How he continued to throw it away.
Would she find him pathetic, then, he who had chosen to be nothing but a fisherman and a potion-maker’s son when he could have been a king? (No, he thought immediately. Of course she wouldn’t. But that didn’t stop the doubt in his mind. And now it doesn’t matter.)
“I’m surprised you aren’t with them now,” Zelda continued.
Ganondorf shrugged. “I wanted to be alone.” He paused. “I’m surprised you aren’t with Impa.”
“I was – she told me to take the rest of the day off. I think she also wanted to be alone.” She glanced at him, biting her lip. “I can leave, Ganondorf, if you –”
“No,” he said quickly. “Stay.”
She relaxed in the chair. “Good,” she said, mouth quirking up at the side. “I couldn’t let the world end without seeing my favourite rival one last time.”
Ganondorf chuckled, even as the words one last time sent a pain through his heart. Oh, he had been irritated when the fishing hole had opened in Great Bay only weeks after he had opened his own in the swamp, and had done his best to dislike the woman who had shown up at his doorstep to introduce herself as an employee of the new fishing hole (he would learn later that she was Impa’s only employee, a position she had gained due to Impa’s closeness with her late parents; the Great Bay fishing hole was nearly as small as his was).
He had failed miserably. Zelda had quickly become a friend (one of few), his closest friend, even. And he was often filled with thoughts of kissing her, no matter how much he tried to ignore them.
“Well then, my rival fisherwoman,” he said, gesturing at the row of fishing rods hung up behind the counter at the entrance. “Help yourself. We can have a contest.”
She grinned, and quickly stood to grab a fishing rod before settling back into the chair beside him. She cast out a line, and they fell into silence.
That was one of his favourite things about her – she did not feel the need to fill all time with banal chatter, and could spend time with him in comfortable quiet.
Today, however, as he gazed up towards the moon – it was larger, he thought, than it had been even an hour ago – he found himself wanting to hear her voice. A distraction from the thought that when she left, he would have seen her for the last time.
“How are things in Great Bay?” he asked.
“About the same,” she said. “Been pretty quiet at the fishing hole the past few days…” She sighed. “I suspect that’s why Impa told me to go. Well, and the pirates…”
Ganondorf’s stomach lurched. “What have the pirates done?” he demanded. “Are you in danger?”
He immediately thought that this may have been too strong of a reaction, but if Zelda thought anything strange about his outburst, she did not comment on it.
“I’m fine – Impa worries too much.” Her face fell. “There have been rumours, though… Apparently they’ve stolen eggs from Zora’s Cape.”
Ganondorf clenched his teeth. Sister, you go too far! He lowered his head – if he had stayed, then he would have been in charge, not Aveil. He would have been able to change things, to stop this.
(His sister used to visit him on occasion, to berate him for leaving the Gerudo Pirates and urge him to come back. Though he suspected that the visits were more to confirm that he did not want kingship. Aveil enjoyed being in charge.)
“Horrible,” he murmured.
Zelda nodded. “I wish I could do something,” she said quietly.
I could do something.
And yet Ganondorf had dreams sometimes of himself as a king. He saw a grand city, larger even than Clock Town, fallen to rubble. He roared in pain as his body changed against his will, limbs lengthening and nails sharpening until he was monster more than man. He would wake in a sweat, and though the nightmares could not be real, he knew that he did not want a crown anywhere near his head.
The moon gazed down on him, taunting.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said to Zelda. “They’ll all be dead by tomorrow anyway.”
“How callous of you,” she said, then exhaled as she cast back out her fishing line. “But I suppose you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” he joked, but he found it hard to find the humour in it with the end of the world hanging over his head, and from her lack of reaction, he imagined she felt the same.
He watched her as she stared out over the fishing hole, studying the curve of her pointed ear, the blonde hair falling over her face (he teased her about it sometimes, asking how she could see through the hair that often covered one of her eyes, though he could not deny that he liked it), the musculature in her arms, visible through her tight blue sleeve (another thing he could not deny that he enjoyed). He’d seen her on occasion in pretty dresses, hair loose and dangly earrings hanging from her ears, and she was heartachingly lovely, but this was how he liked her best. This was the woman who had shown up at his door and had wormed her way into the deepest recesses of his heart.
Tell her, he thought. What is there to lose now?
He began, hesitantly, “Zelda,” but was cut off by her intake of breath as her fishing line went taut. She quickly stood, beginning to reel in the fishing rod.
“I think it’s a big one,” she said with a grin. Her upper arms strained with exertion as she tugged on the fishing rod; Ganondorf could not keep his eyes from the shifting of her muscles, toned from many training sessions with Impa. After a moment, her smile became tight. “It’s – ah – a very big one,” she grunted, before yanking hard on the rod and pulling out one of the largest fish Ganondorf had seen in all of his time at this fishing hole.
Really, fish was the wrong word; this thing seemed more whale. He and Zelda both looked at it with wide eyes.
“Well,” he said finally. “I think you win.”
He approached the large fish, and knelt before it. He hesitated only a moment before pushing it back into the water, and watched it disappear into the depths of the pond.
“You aren’t keeping it?” Zelda asked.
He shook his head. Any other day he would have transferred such a fish to a tank to study – he had found many new and bizarre kinds of fish in his pond – but the moon was ever present in his sight and mind.
“It should be free on its last day of life,” he murmured, then abruptly stood; he suddenly felt as though he could not bear to be here any longer.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” he asked, looking at her.
He expected her to say no, she had been with him long enough and take the opportunity to excuse herself, but instead she nodded gratefully.
***
They left the swamp fishing hole (he did not allow himself to look back as they walked away), and wandered aimlessly, talking about anything and everything except the moon hanging above their heads and the increasing frequency of the rumbling in the ground, until they found themselves a tree to sit under upon a small hill in Termina Field. The sky was darkening, and stars were beginning to reveal themselves.
Ganondorf let out a short laugh. Zelda looked at him quizzically.
“I was just thinking,” he said, “that this would be a wonderful place to stargaze. If not for…”
He gestured towards the sky. Zelda’s eyes shuttered.
“Sorry,” Ganondorf said.
She shook her head. “It’s fine,” she said. “You’re right.” Then abruptly, her eyes filled with tears.
“Zelda…?”
“I’m fine,” she said, even as the tears began to fall harder.
Ganondorf hesitantly reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder. She let out a gasping sob, then threw herself into his arms.
“It’s alright,” he murmured, then immediately berated himself. Of course it was not alright.
“I’m scared, Ganondorf,” she whispered against the crook of his neck. “I don’t want to die.”
He held her closer, resting his chin against her head.
“I’m scared too,” he admitted.
She clung to him, her fingers digging into him so tightly it nearly hurt. He did not complain, beginning to rub circles into her back. He wished he was the monster from his dreams, that he could fight the moon. But he was a mere fisherman, and fishermen did not save worlds.
Her trembling began to subside, and she lifted her head from his neck, though she did not move away.
“If this was an ordinary day,” she said, “What would you be doing?”
He toyed with the end of her braid. “Fishing,” he said (she laughed). “Collecting mushrooms for Kotake’s potions.”
“Not going to the festival?”
He shrugged. “Would you?”
“Maybe.” She smiled slightly. “I’d have liked to see the fireworks, I think.” She paused. “Though they’d have been better if you were with me.”
His hand stilled on her braid.
“Is that right?” he said lightly.
She hummed in assent, a mischievous glint coming into her eyes. “That’s what I’d be doing,” she said. “Watching the fireworks all alone, wondering if you’ll ever actually ask me out.”
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
“Zelda,” he said. “You would want…?”
She nodded.
“Why haven’t you said…?”
She let out a soft laugh. “You’re kind of intimidating sometimes, you know. All quiet and brooding, with your mysterious past you never talk about.” She brought a hand to rest on his shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if you would have wanted it.”
He blinked. “I… I would,” he said lamely. “I would have wanted it.”
She smiled, and he leaned in to kiss her.
Whenever he imagined their first kiss, it was slow and sweet, a promise of something more to come. This was all desperation and making up for lost time. Her hand buried itself in his hair, pressing his mouth against hers, while he crushed her against his body. She opened her lips to him, and when they finally separated, they were both panting.
“Zelda…” he said quietly. “I think…I think that I have been in love with you for a long time.” (Would he have had the courage to say it, if this was not his last chance? He wasn’t sure.)
She stared at him in wonder, then took his face in her hands and pulled him back to her lips.
“Ganondorf.”
“Mmm?” he hummed, moving his lips to her neck now. She tilted her head back.
“I – ah –” (He nipped at her collarbone; a spot he had imagined tasting many times) “ – I love you, too.”
He lifted his head back to her face.
“Zelda…” he murmured.
She placed her hand over his, currently resting on her hip, and guided it to slip under the blue fabric that made up the top of her uniform. He let out a sharp intake of breath as his fingers caressed her skin.
“Zelda,” he repeated. “Are you sure?”
Tears filled her eyes once again, but she nodded resolutely. “I don’t want to die,” she said, “without knowing you at least once.”
He swallowed tears of his own as he drew her in close. They did not have the lifetimes that he would have wanted, but he resolved that he would spend his final hours showing her how much she was loved.
***
After, she lay her head back against his chest and let out a content sigh as she closed her eyes.
“You’re going to sleep?” Ganondorf murmured, running his hand through her (now loose and thoroughly messy) hair.
“I don’t want to be conscious when… it happens.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“You’ll stay with me, right?”
He tightened his hold on her. “Until the end,” he promised.
***
It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep – how, Ganondorf didn’t understand; even with the exhaustion creeping over him as the hours marched steadily towards morning, he knew he would not be sleeping this night. The trembles in the ground had become frequent now.
So he settled himself against the trunk of the tree, Zelda in his arms, and he watched the moon fall.
He wished that he had more time with her.
So much time spent worrying what she might think of his rejected birthright. So much time spent scared of letting her close. He shook his head in disgust.
He wished, too, for more time with his mothers. Had he ever thanked them, properly, for giving him a home away from the pirates?
He wished he could see Aveil again – whether in an attempt to mend their relationship or to tell her exactly what he thought of her leadership he did not know.
He let out a great sigh, leaning his head back against the tree trunk.
When the moon finally fell, the sky filled with fire. Ganondorf had imagined being crushed, but was this instead how he would end? Burning until he was reduced to bones, a carcass like the city in his dreams.
He pressed a final kiss to the top of Zelda’s head, then closed his eyes and hoped that it would be quick.
A mournful melody sang out in Ganondorf’s mind. His imagination, he thought, conjuring a score to the last minutes of his life. Yet it did not diminish with that thought. It grew, louder and fuller until he knew that it could not be only in his head.
He opened his eyes.
The moon was being held up by giants.
Ganondorf had never been particularly religious, but he knew, as all inhabitants of Termina did, of the legend of the Four Giants. He had never dreamed that they could be real.
“Zelda,” he muttered, nudging her gently.
Her eyes slowly blinked open. “What,” she mumbled.
He nudged her again. “Look,” he breathed, and the tiredness evaporated from her instantly as she sat up and saw the sky.
They watched in silence. The giants’ legs were trembling with the effort of stopping the moon.
But they held.
And then, as Ganondorf’s heart pounded with burgeoning hope, he watched as the moon disintegrated into nothingness.
He looked to Zelda; she looked to him with wide eyes.
“Does that mean…”
“I think so.”
“Then…”
“We’re safe.”
She laughed, and then they fell into each other’s arms. Ganondorf tilted her chin up to him and kissed her.
When he pulled away, her cheeks were delightfully pink in the early morning light. She smiled at him nervously.
“So,” she said softly, “What now?”
It was clear what she was truly asking: Was this a mistake?
Would he have touched her if the world was not ending? He would have wanted to; he had dreamed of it time and time again. But he had not acted on his feelings. He had been scared of letting her in, and even more, he had been passive. He waited for things to happen to him; he did not initiate them.
No longer, he decided. He had been given a new life, and he would take what he desired.
Just as he’d made up his mind, he let out a great yawn. Zelda giggled.
“I need to go home and take a nap,” he said, then brought a hand up to cup her cheek. “But later…” He swallowed. “This is the day of the week I always have dinner with my mothers. Would you like to join us?”
“Yeah,” she said softly, “I really would.”
“Good.”
He got to his feet, then extended a hand to help her to hers.
Then, fingers entwined, they walked into a new day.