Chapter Text
Link wakes to the sun. The beams of light breaching over the peaks of the mountains stirs him, though the grogginess of sleep clings to his mind and weighs down his eyelids, urging him to turn his back on the east and sink back into sweet darkness for a few more hours.
Too bad for him, Epona hears him snuffling into wakefulness, trotting over and huffing over his face until he blinks his eyes open. His attention successfully granted, she ambles to his pack, nosing over the pocket where she knows he keeps her apples.
Spoiled.
He rolls to his feet, giving Epona her treat and packing up his sleeping roll, preparing to continue his travels. The dry season in the summer is the best time to lay under the stars of Hyrule. Rain rarely catches him off guard as long as he stays away from the wetlands, and the cool night breeze makes burrowing into his soft furs deeply pleasant. It is, by far, the best time of year for sleeping.
The heat of summer is reaching its peak. It's time to head north for the Tyber Forests for the Festival of the Beast. He so rarely runs into any of his people the whole year, traveling alone as he does, that if he misses it then once the Festival of the Wind rolls around he'll be in for scolding and badgering about the traditions of Okanee and how isolation is not among them.
He's not isolated. He has Epona.
She whinnies softly, as if in agreement with his thoughts. He's quick to fit his saddle and bags over her, the motions so ingrained he could do them in his sleep, and sets off. The Tyber Forests are farther to the north than even the Great Woods, so he'll need to make good time.
It heats quickly as the hours tick by, prompting him to strip off his tunic and pull his hair back high over his neck. Something restless has been pulling at his gut, made worse by the oppressive press of the summer air. At first he assumed it was his usual desire to move and his anxiousness to make it to the Tyber Woods before the Festival, but it pulls at him, prickling under his skin urgently.
It's not unfamiliar, but it is unwelcome. He's paid the price of ignoring it before.
Almost without his input, his hands pull on Epona's reins until she's turned almost completely around. With a moment of hesitation, he spurs her on southwest.
The desert is all he's known. Even the scattered oases he's visited don't compare to the endless expanse of green and blue of Hyrule Field.
The desert and its havens have their own beauty, but the novelty is what enraptures Ganondorf. His wardens back at the palace think him meditating along the Heroine's Journey, a path connecting shrines and oases throughout the deepest part of the Gerudo Desert. It's a pilgrimage he's taken before, and one traditionally done alone. The path takes a week to complete, longer if one is feeling particularly contemplative, so he has time before his mothers send Nabooru after him.
Though, Nabooru may tail after him after the first few days, despite. His people are deeply overprotective of him, not without cause, but it does grate. Hence, his little deception.
He can't very well be a decent King without any worldly knowledge, can he? It's harmless. He'll be back with no one the wiser.
Phantom appreciates the change of scenery, as well, a spring in her step and as she delightedly snuffles at every new flower and patch of grass. He chuckles, patting her neck affectionately.
The Great Plateau rises into his eye-line. For this time of freedom, he mostly intends to wander, explore, with no schedule and no escort, but there are some destinations that interest him to visit. The first is the Temple of Time.
A truly ancient place of worship, it's still a foreign numen for him, Time. Such a fickle thing to be held as sacrosanct. Still, it calls to him. His mothers have warned him against following such calls, but he's quite tired of minding them. Whatever happens, it will happen by his will alone.
He'll need to sneak his way onto the Plateau, which unfortunately means Phantom will have to stay behind. Not that she'll mind spending the day to herself frolicking in the trees and grass.
He scales up the sheer cliff, not quickly, but with grace and little strain. He's far from the main bridge onto the Plateau, so no guards are around to catch him swinging over the edge. The Temple itself will be heavily guarded, but by what he's heard of Hylian soldiers from his warriors, he doesn't have much to worry about.
Except from Nabooru and his mothers if he's seen by any of them. He'll be flayed, surely.
A pleasantly cool breeze, free of the itch of sand, ruffles through his hair and the loose bits of his clothes.
The paths and roads are patrolled, so he takes the scenic route through the trees and over the grassy cliffs, coming up at the Temple from behind. A single guard rests against the back wall, fast asleep.
His warriors were not exaggerating.
He peers through the thick foliage several meters away, watching for a patrol to make sure he didn't jump out right when a half-way competent Hylian turned the corner.
Caution served him well. No patrol came, but a series of shouts rang from inside the Temple, voices carrying out in a wave as soldiers repeated what they heard from their companions.
"The sword!" Ganondorf hears, and the sleeping guard startles awake at the chorus of voices. "The sword is gone!"
Time to go.
No one ever checks up high.
Link scrambles up the wall of the Temple, swinging through the high window and using the momentum to loop around onto the wooden planks of the roof, slithering across it on his belly.
Why. Why, why why why.
The sword hums contentedly on his back, conjuring an image of a smug, purring cat to Link's mind. It's a ridiculous flight of fancy. There's no way a sword could think his current predicament is funny. Magic goddess sword or not.
He peaks over the edge, letting out a low, frustrated growl at the swarm of soldiers down below. If he can get them all away from the back, he could paraglide into the forest and disappear in the trees.
"Search the forest!" someone commands, and Link slams his fist down onto the wood with a huff.
Okay.
Option one: turn himself in. Get immediately recognized as Okanee based on his clothes and the beads in his hair. Get accused of using his witch magic to steal the Ancient Sword and be immediately executed. Bad.
Option two: turn himself in. The conflict between Hylians and Okanee is cooled enough that the guards don't assume 'evil witch' upon seeing him, and he's escorted to the castle and presented, him, Link, an Okanee, a nobody, before the Hylian King Regent as the Ancient Sword's chosen wielder.
...Bad.
Option three: He shoots a bomb arrow into the lake below and hopes they take the explosion on the surface as someone diving in, and use the distraction to get the Hylia out of here.
He's notching the arrow before he's even finished the thought, taking a fraction of a second to align the arc before loosing it at the water.
Shouts follow the explosion as a pillar of water rises in the air, a stampede of metallic footfalls going off in the direction of the lake. Link dares to peek his head over the roof, able to see a crowd of soldiers leaning over the sheer face of the shore and none, thankfully, in the direction of his escape.
He stands, taking off the roof at a running leap, paraglider at the ready. Halfway down, he flicks it over his head, catching the air of his fall and carrying him just outside the treeline.
"Hide me," he begs the nearest tree, and sags with relief when it agrees, splitting open along the lines of its bark, spilling out soft green light and pulling him in.