When one lives in the desert, there are three immutable laws with which one must make peace.

Firstly, that the days will be hot and dry, a scorching expanse of wind and sand to whip at the skin and cause you to take shelter.

Secondly, that the nights will be cold, and though the gales blow softly and without their daily anger, the chill that seeps frigidly through any crack it can is a deathly one to carry you away without mercy.

Thirdly, neither warmth at night nor sheltered days may spare you from bodily necessity—people, pets and beasts can quickly turn to being simply meat for one's meal, and water is far more precious than any treasure to be stolen. When presented with the choice a wise Gerudo would choose a water gourd over wine, a bottle over gold, and though outsiders would never understand such humble spoils, those Gerudo would live another day.

It may seem barbaric to those in Hyrule Proper that a faithful boar, having perhaps run a little slower than the other mounts, might be killed and roasted and eaten for its slight inferiority. Some may think it cruel. Some may call for mercy upon the poor creature, having served its purpose without any true failing, and still fit saw an untimely death. But those of the Desert knew better. Those who were barbaric and beastly in the eyes of others knew of the clemency in it, when one who did not pull their own weight was culled—one less mouth to feed, and in doing so, several others fed in turn.

The weak perished in the West, and the strong prevailed.

Such thoughts brushed the mind of the Gerudo King as he sat in a lonely dining hall, derived of the barest essentials and bereft of many items that would see the bland chamber called such a thing. Wooden walls were bare save only for a few spears and one tattered tapestry of the Gerudo insignia, worn by ages and clearly the salvage of a ruin. A large table, enough to seat twelve, sat opposite a hearth, lit with a pot of boiling water ready. Two lonesome lanterns hung from beams across a high ceiling, providing poor illumination while the only window was closed to the nightly chill.

Settling his heavy weight in a somewhat crude armchair, large enough to pass for a bandit's throne and forged of wood and hides, he awaited the Bug Princess with impatience. One elbow perched upon the arm of it; Ganondorf let his jaw rest on a closed fist, wearing a scornful look as golden eyes fixated upon the large door across the way.

The child was, for whatever reason, taking her time to answer his summons. Blunt-nailed fingertips drummed with thinly veiled contempt for this, the occasional twitch running through his biceps and shoulders whenever the thought of striking her when she finally came crossed his mind.

Agitha, he had concluded, was not unlike the boar. A dull thing, with limited use, that at present did not appear to be worth supporting—the resources necessary keep the child alive was very nearly wasted on her, the ungrateful and clueless Hylian she no doubt was. But unlike the mount he had seen to earlier, carving its flesh without a second thought as to whether it deserved its fate, the child was simply that: a child. Both he and Agitha were likely unaware of the services she could provide him, if any, but he had given her the benefit of the doubt.

He had also given her the opportunity to prove her worth, and here he sat, waiting on her as the boar leg hung beside the hearth, already skinned. He had made her task even easier than it should've been, and still, the girl was running late.

A sneer cracked his lip as his hatred of Hylians instantaneously doubled in that moment, and with a flare of temper he tore himself upward from his perch, heavy stomps muffled by sand as he strode toward the hearth fire.

Were it a woman, in the place of a child, he thought viciously, eyeing one particularly heated rod of iron used for stoking coals, she'd know better than to keep a man waiting.

Though some small part of him tried to cast it aside, the Gerudo found himself lowering with the intent to pick it up, slow and almost cautious in movement as is common with malice aforethought. He plucked at the cotton fabric about his knees, hiking it up just a touch as he knelt, a large hand reaching forward to remove the poker. Even when his calloused fingers brushed the metal, it was a tantalising mixture of cold iron and inherited warmth—the other end of it, amongst the flame, was a sharp incline of heat, coloured a violent and vengeful red. Lifting it before his face, round ears perked to the subtle hiss of protest it made to the significantly colder air around him, and a tiny smirk betrayed his intent.

Then it came, the faintest rapping upon the chamber door, a quiet and unsure knock against wood to echo softly into the expanse as his feral gaze snapped to the door and the Gerudo stood sharply, crimson hair tumbling over his shoulders in unbound and languid curls.

"Enter." he barked with a rich rumble, the tone of it greedy for recompense as the iron poker was held at his side, angled so as to be slightly hidden behind his leg from the view of the doorway.

Ganondorf withheld a sinister chuckle as the sound of her scream from earlier ghosted through his mind—if that was the result of a tug to her pigtail, the sound to tear away from her throat at the touch of red hot iron was sure to be worth the wait. But as he stood there ready to receive the impudent whelp, the door didn't budge. Fiery brows were quick to knit together as his canines flashed once more, sadistic thrills set aside by impatience.

"You would keep me waiting even longer?" he hissed, grip tightening about the iron until his knuckles were white. "Hurry up, Child!"

His large frame tensed with the insult, glaring at the door with such an intensity as to set it ablaze, though when after a moment the door still did not open, a small voice came floating from the other side of it so softly that Ganondorf was scarcely sure he heard it.

"…Agitha cannot open the door… It's too heavy for her…"

It wasn't often that the Gerudo felt such a thing, but for the briefest of moments, confusion swept his harsh features as her statement came hurtling toward him like a brick to the face. Such a pathetic and feebly given excuse, but fortunately for the bug Princess on the other side, Ganondorf couldn't help but find himself somewhat diffused by it. Of course she couldn't open the door—it was designed to keep others out, and would take a Moblin or the Gerudo himself to shift. Almost immediately, it was washed away by frustrated sigh, seethed through clenched teeth. His free hand came to tuck itself into the silken sash holding his pants in place, a roll of golden eyes with it as the order was tailored to something on a Moblin level of specific.

"Gorahg! Open the damned door!" he ordered with a scowl, a glare sent to the flames and an itch down his spine telling him to put the poker to use on the foolish beast's flesh as well.

After a short pause, the little voice came once again. "…Greg ran away, Your Majesty."

The Gerudo King was not one to be made to look foolish, and the revelation of his own minion's cowardice only topped it all off nicely, as his gaze returned to the door. Rather than the rage so evident on his face moments before, an eerie silence swept him, a sort of calm as his hand was raised toward the entrance. Stoically, the poker was levelled toward the heavy carved wood of his door, and a gentle and negligent flick would see the air thicken with magic. A rough shunt at first, the barrier slowly moved upward to reveal the tiny Bug Princess.

She stood there dishevelled, wearing crudely fashioned rags as the ranks of Bokoblins did; red fabric wrapped about her frail form and held by some sort of leather patchwork corset. Her pigtails askew, blonde bangs stuck to her face by dried sweat, flecks of sand coating her pale skin. Bare feet shifted nervously, toes curling as her hands were held behind her back, head bowed low and lavender eyes downcast. Bent and battered, the blood coated wings were barely visible behind her, a jade necklace with a stag beetle motif appearing to be the only thing of worth to her form.

She dared not look at him, though he silently appraised her. For a moment, Agitha was almost thankful that he did not seem angry with her any longer, and he had opened the door for her, hadn't he? Taking a deep breath, she readied a tiny smile, in order to look up and thank him though when she did, it faded quickly. A small jerk of surprise ran through her, as Agitha realised the Gerudo didn't stand before her, but far across the room from her.

Curled in the hollow of her collarbone, the Pillbug shuddered, wishing to curl impossibly tighter, and Agitha, caught by the oddity of how he'd opened a door without touching it, sadly did not notice the small creature's warning.

Just as her mouth opened to ask, her eyes were drawn by yet another flick of the fire poker. Agitha was not one to look at such a thing and see danger—she had already noticed the hearth. A naïve mind did not register it as a weapon or a threat, or out of place in his hand. Before she could think on it further, she felt a strange tug at the air around her, and like a fish upon an angler's line, she felt her body thrown forward with great force.

A shriek left her as the girl was launched forward, so quickly that the dimly lit room became a blur of shadows cast by the flames until the sandy flooring came rising upwards to meet her. It was all Agitha could do to throw her arms up in vain; grains scraped the skin of her arms, leaving her elbows raw, as she landed roughly at the Gerudo's feet with a small cry, dull pain spreading through her as her cute face twisted with discomfort.

The Pillbug was far lighter than its Princess, and momentum was not on its side. When Agitha stopped, it had the misfortune to continue, thrown from the warmth of her skin to skitter across the sand and off towards the small throne.

Towering above her crumpled form, Ganondorf peered downward with a stony expression, watching with apathy as Agitha coughed weakly, holding in the fresh sound of a sob as tears prickled her vision. The light of the fire danced darkly against his skin, and slowly he lowered the iron poker to point at her, the reddened tip of it glowing wickedly.

"Look at me, Child." he began, his voice quietly cold though his golden eyes burned. "I want to make something perfectly clear to you."

Agitha flinched further when she heard the tone, reminded of the Piggies Domah and Forg as a pulse of fear ran through her bones—it was the same voice that had tricked them, the same tone he'd used before hurting them. Her eyes did not want to open for him, even as she weakly turned her head up to comply. Her fingers curled weakly into the sand, and slowly her lavender gaze was forced upward, a slight tremble to her neck as if it strained to hold her head up. Though her vision lingered on the cotton of his pants, it halted when it found the heated iron levelled at her, eyes wide.

Ganondorf, despite his order, was perfectly content to let her attention stick fast to it. Experimentally, he moved slightly, and upon seeing the child's eyes follow the glow with a catlike focus continued, drew a slow and controlled breath as his low tone returned.

"Your life is mine to do with what I wish. You, Child, are on my lands and thus, are subject to my laws…" Nonchalantly, he raised the poker upward, pretending to inspect it further. "If you run, the Desert will claim you. If you disobey me, I will punish you. I will not tolerate insolence, and I will not guarantee your safety if I am returned with foolishness."

From beneath long lashes, Agitha strained glassed eyes to keep focussed upon him, though she could hardly tear her gaze away from the length of metal he held. Her body ached with the abuse of being shoved about and thrown over the course of the day, and caught beneath his scrutiny again, she felt the courage she'd built up beforehand fading again quickly, left only able to nod lightly at his words in a stunned and fearful silence.

A tense moment of silence passed between them, and though the Gerudo thought that perhaps the gravity and reality of how she was to exist here might be sinking into the child's incomplete mind, Agitha was—beneath her caution—making mental notes of his behaviour. She had noted something very important, in fact, glancing at his face briefly before his own gaze sent hers firmly downward again.

Most people would never dream of being angry with Agitha, simply incapable of it, and so the Bug Princess had no real idea of what anger looked like when other people wore it. In fact, if called upon to give some description, she would have settled on a rather cliché and almost comically exaggerated stereotype, on the verge of believing steam may actually pour from somebody's ears like a boiling kettle. So when the Gerudo presented a near-emotionless and intense façade, calm like a lion watching prey, it simply didn't register to her that he was angered. How could he be?

What ran through Agitha's mind, seeing Ganondorf in such a state above her—looming with a rather nasty looking rod of iron—was exactly the appearance she saw; an emotionless state.

Like a spring wound too tightly by her stress, something simply snapped within her, and the frail girl found herself in the midst of an epiphany as her trembling lessened, and the fear began to leave her eyes. He was like this when he hurt the Piggies; as if he didn't feel bad about it at all. And if he didn't seem to feel anything, and didn't look like he was feeling anything, it must only mean that he really wasn't feeling anything. And that, in Agitha's mind, was sad.

If the Bully King can't feel anything, that would explain why he does bad things and is mean. The terror on her cute face was steadily fading, and weakly, she began to pull herself into a sitting position. When normal people do the wrong thing they feel terrible afterwards, but he can't… He can't feel happy or sad or excited, either, then…

Within her strange mind, with this notion, she looked up at the Gerudo with fresh eyes, and considered what he'd said. However, the Bug Princess's mind was very keen for things like feelings and how they should sound on people's voices, so with some liberties she added what she thought would be there to hear could the Bully King feel.

The result was much better with feeling.

"Agitha knows that she isn't in her Kingdom anymore, Your Majesty." It came so simply and easily, slipping through a tiny smile that was humble and understanding as she peered up at him from upon her knees. A glance was given to her counterpart, the Pillbug, as it unfurled a few meters away. "Your hospitality is… different, and there's a lot of miscommunication here… but Agitha wishes only to be a friend."

The Gerudo peered downward, bemused though his expression went unchanged. He cast his gaze over her once more, taking stock of her features, and found himself intrigued by the bipolar nature of this girl—one second, she cowered at his feet, and the next, she seemed fearless and instead, sought friendship.

He scoffed, the barest hint of amusement in it as his brow hitched. "Is that so." Clearly rhetorical, he clicked his tongue to continue before she could answer. "You've insulted me by being tardy, you insult me again with criticism and by assuming yourself worth my 'friendship', which implies either you see me as a fellow child, or think of yourself too highly…"

Agitha's delicate brows furrowed as her head began to shake, correction forming upon her tongue that she'd not meant to offend, though Ganondorf was already glaring her down, bending a knee to bring himself to her level. The Bug Princess shrank back just a touch as he drew close, the crimson shade of his hair blocking the light from half his face as it fell from his shoulder.

"…and above all, you've spoken without permission, only to fail at giving an acceptable apology for your behaviour." His golden eyes flashed with something that made Agitha's neck itch. "Now, what did I just say, Child, about insolence?"

The girl swallowed nervously, feeling a bit like a moth cornered by a hungry frog as her hand unconsciously rose to tug lightly at the tips of her left pigtail. "Agitha is sorry, she wasn't trying to win anything… she really doesn't fancy your prizes…" She confessed anxiously, recalling what the Piggy had 'won'.

Without another word, the hand she'd raised was snatched within his large hand, held tightly in a bruising grip. He stood quickly, yanking the girl upwards with him, and barely giving Agitha enough time to find her feet before jerking her arm straight. She very nearly dangled, on the tips of her toes as her eyes grew wide again, a small gasp of pain escaping her as her elbow threatened to pop out of place. She could feel a heat near her wrist, and then a pressure like something pressed to it. Pointed ears twitched to the light hiss that came with it, and as if it was too strange a sensation for her to register immediately, her eyes processed what had happened before the rest of her seemed to.

It was a strange sound, the hiss of her skin bubbling to blister and burning beneath the touch of red hot metal. Agitha could only stare at it, listening to the sound as it seemed to last forever, but as she did, she noticed that another sound was stopping her from hearing it. She could see her arm jerking, as if it were trying to jump out of his grasp and away from the poker. It took her a moment to realise exactly what was happening, but as the Bug Princess sat within her own mind, watching the world through the windows of her eyes, she recognised the other sound.

She was screaming. She was struggling to get away, in agony as her flesh was burnt and marked. She was screaming for him to let her go, to stop, and her whole body was throwing itself backward repeatedly in an effort to break loose.

Inside, Agitha watched this happen, though the pain never seemed to come. She caught a glimpse of the hearth fire as her body thrashed about, and suddenly felt her cheeks wet with tears. She couldn't see the flames anymore, and as her attention went to return to her arm, she found nothing but blackness. Had she closed her eyes, perhaps? But then, there, at the fringe of her vision were the flames again.

That wasn't the hearth fire.

Ganondorf watched the girl struggle with an apathetic air, unrelenting in his punishment and unphased by her attempts to break free. He held her effortlessly, even her strongest protests featherweight against his enhanced strength, and with the hint of satisfaction playing a smirk upon his lips, he silently drank deep of her pain, satisfied that there would be no further issue with the child.

With any luck, I'll have a boar leg cooked to perfection after this, he thought, a dark flash of humour running through him.

That was until his round ears picked up a change in her pleas. Glancing at the child's face, it was immediately noticeable—her eyes had glazed over, and though her body still acted for her, her mind was clearly elsewhere. The spots of colour upon her cheeks ran with her tears to stain her face, cute features twisted with terror. The Gerudo watched her carefully, his malice waning for curiosity; though he had expected this reaction, something was amiss. He had tortured many men, and a few women to be fair, in his time, but his experience with such a thing had his mind ticking on her expression.

It almost didn't match what she was experiencing, and at this point, neither did her cries—brows furrowed, Ganondorf decided he'd had his fill, and only a moment before he would release her, Agitha reached her loudest and most desperate cry yet.

"Please! Daddy, no!"

It pierced the air with force, a shrill sound that seemed to fill the entire room, very nearly causing the lanterns to flicker in its wake. Caught off guard, the Gerudo reared back, tossing the child away from himself as if it were little Agitha burning him instead. Golden eyes fixated upon the tiny Hylian as she fell, landing on her side in the sand a few feet from him, and a foreboding silence claimed the both of them.

The Pillbug, however, was in the midst of rushing to help poor Agitha when the strange scream had come. It had stopped in its tracks, antennae twitching, and for a moment considered the fact it may have failed its Princess. It turned the briefest glance to the towering Gerudo King, and though it held no grasp of human language, deduced that the silence was far more informative. Tentatively, it continued to scurry past, heading for Agitha once it was sure it would not be squashed.

Ganondorf, as the Pillbug had noted, no longer felt the want to be angry, or malicious. Instead, he stood intrigued, a morbid fascination beginning to bloom as his fingers twitched by his side. His scowl darkened with lines of confusion, a glance given to the iron before his eyes wandered back to the girl.

Idly, he wondered if she'd seen such treatment before, though as he studied her pale flesh, he found it bereft of any evidence to suggest so. What exactly was that just now, then, that she'd said? Surely, the child could not be so confused as to think he was her father, no matter how much she fancied herself a Princess… One need only look upon her, and him, to tell they were of no possible relation.

Ganondorf's eyes squinted some in thought, and finally, he turned away from her, assuming the girl unconscious as he stepped toward the hearth, a flick of his wrist embedding the rod of iron into the sand before it. Gritting his teeth, he realised now that perhaps Domah and Forg had picked this one for a better reason than he'd given credit for, beyond a simple description.

Of course, I can't ask them what that might've been, he sighed, rubbing his temple with the thought.

If there was more to this Hylian then first met the eye, with his luck, it could have been any number of things—Perhaps, in a twist, they had found an illegitimate daughter to the King. Certainly, not Zelda, but if such were the case, he may have some leverage to work with, to the dead Moblins' credit. It certainly seemed she had a father issue of some sort, and knowing the Royal family, traumatic experience did seem to fit the bill in the case of a cover up.

She was a resident of Castle Town…Crossing bulky arms, Ganondorf sent the girl another sidelong glance, ponderous as his fingers drummed upon a bicep. Perhaps I should take her up on this 'friendship' she wants to start… Find out a little more about her; see if there is a connection to Zelda there after all.

Even if it was something as simple as the child playing with the Princess—the Gerudo could certainly imagine the noble Zelda giving a childhood friend the honorary title of 'Princess', as well.

A tired sigh saw a large hand be swept through his crimson hair as Ganondorf reluctantly settled on a course of action, silently cursing himself for bringing about such a position in the first place. Such a frail child didn't really stand to last long in the Desert, and he knew he'd have to keep a sharp eye on her if she was to continue to survive, let alone serve him in any fashion. It was a nuisance, but the potential there was simply to curious to pass by without some investigation.

As the Pillbug crawled onto the Princess's abused form, it settled upon the flush warmth of her cheek, willing her to awaken as it set about cleaning the tears from her face. Its antennae constantly checked her vitals, as well as tracked any movement from the other, and faithfully watched him from beneath her lashes as the surly Gerudo seemed to go about his business, ignoring Agitha to simply cook the boar leg himself.

And so it was that the weak would hence survive in the desert, at the whim of the strong.

A/N:

Well, sad to say, but this chapter turned out way better in terms of quality than last night's attempt at tSoS.

I am utterly joyous for the fact I think I've got my writing groove back after some neglect, but I have to say, I'm a little disappointed I couldn't afford Link the same attention to detail. It was a little blasé, to be honest, but this may make up for it some.

I think it's just easier for me to write Ganondorf being unrepentantly… Ganondorf, than it is to write Link—though to be fair, that's likely because Link's personality is a direct result of player perception for what they want the hero to be, guided along by light framework. He's a little harder to make into an independent being, given he's designed to be… all of us at once. He really is a bit of a Joe Everyman, in that way.

Link fans may hate me for saying so, but I think characters like Agitha and Ganondorf are just a bit more defined than our beloved Hero.

Ah well.

Onwards to Glory.