[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/221005/7d7c778891f3387ab231a2bbd26f2d1e.png[/img]

[h3]The Imprisoned[/h3]
Level 1 Ganondorf (0/10)
[b]Location:[/b] The Ruins
[b]Word Count:[/b] 2,248
[b]Exp:[/b] 0 + 3 = 3/10[/center]

Deep below the earth, a lone custodian padded slowly through the solemn, silent corridors of purple stone. Though she went to great lengths to attend these forgotten Ruins, to sweep away their filth and dust so that the ivy might flourish and the vermillion leafbeds might rest like mosaic carpets upon the ground, no amount of effort would ever fill these hallowed halls with joy or laughter. Though monsters roamed here, she found little company among them. Her prolonged attempts to make friends with them eventually led her to realize that few could even speak. Sadly, fewer still chose to speak with her. So while she continued to leave them food when she could, she left them to the solitude they seemed to desire. While not one to judge, she found herself disturbed by them, by their fearful lack of decency and self-awareness. To her, they seemed less like the monsters she knew, and more like the monsters that humans believed them to be. In light of that deeper, more terrifying level of monstrosity, their indifference toward her seemed like a miracle, and for even that kindness she felt deeply grateful. It seemed to lend credence to her belief: that nobody, no matter how evil, was ever too far gone. Out of everything in this place, only the relic that hung at her waist would ever gather dust from her neglect.

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/OS5mKVz.png[/img][/center]

Eventually, the gentle caretaker’s route through the Ruins came to an end. Here, the darkness held sway, weighing heavily on the few who dared to tread here. The atmosphere felt thick and heavy, though not silent thanks to the frequent clink of chains. A number of them dangled from the cavern’s ceiling, suspending glass orbs of lambent lumaflies above the churning mists that rose and fell like the surface of the sea. Wordless, she padded up the foggy trail to the great, ovoid temple that loomed at the top of the incline. Though at first glance it appeared to be hidden in darkness, she knew that she could get within an inch of it and still not make out another solitary detail, for its surface was a glossy, perfectly smooth black, like a colossal, obsidian egg.

At the front of the temple, however, lay a large hole in that shell, and within a huge spiral of strange, almost chitinous material. Over the center of the spiral lay an oval seal, emblazoned with the likeness of three masks, and in front of that was a man..

The prisoner was chained by lengths of pure white embedded in the spiral itself, and shackles around his wrists and ankles. There was enough give to allow him to sit or stand if he chose, and use his hands a little, but nothing more than that. His jailor couldn’t help but be a little afraid of the incarnation of evil itself, but in a way she pitied him, too. She sighed, and continued up the final stretch. In her hands she carried a tray, laden with food and drink. “Good afternoon…Ganondorf.”

The days in this hell were usually quite slow. Not surprising, as there was little to do but sleep, and think. Sleep, and think. Sleep, and think. And when he would think, the only thing he would actually think about was finding the wretch responsible for putting him here. That and imagining all the ways he could get his revenge. Make them suffer, make them beg for mercy. Of course, he didn’t even have a face to put to those thoughts, having not even the faintest idea who actually placed him here. Instead only one face came up, a face from his past. Roahim, that pathetic excuse for a king, and Zelda, his insufferable daughter.

He was sitting when his so-called “caretaker” arrived. At least that was what she had been trying to cast herself as. But the Gerudo man was no fool. He saw the despicable [url=https://i.imgur.com/fYQOIKJ.png]white sword[/url] she wore at her hip every day during her visits. Caretaker… How laughable! She was his [i]Jailer[/i], pure and simple. But she also was not a cruel jailer of any sort. She’d been kind enough to bring the man food and water every day. She had also talked to him plenty during these sorts of visits, even though he only occasionally spoke back.

“...Toriel.” said Ganondorf, lifting his exhausted gaze up at his visitor, “Come to feed the evil prisoner again?” to this day he still couldn’t understand why she did this. Coming to check on him, and making sure he didn’t escape was one thing. But going out of her way to feed him and bring water? It was oddly kind for someone whose apparent duty was to keep him under watch.

The [url=https://i.imgur.com/tW6h1QJ.png]white-furred goat[/url] gave a thin smile, her eyes melancholic. “Evil prisoner or not, everyone needs to eat and drink. Here, I even have something special for you today.” Despite the very real danger of Ganondorf pulling taut his chains in a burst of speed to come at her, she approached to lay down the tray at his feet. Sourdough, jerky, and mushroom salad were nothing new. For a while now, she’d also been a rotating portion of extra protein, since a man like him needed it to maintain his muscles. Miteloaf, Gnatchos, Omelant, Spaghetflea…none of it nearly as bad as it looked or sounded, and sourced from a distant area Toriel referred to as the Lawn, to boot. Today, however, instead of water the prisoner’s porcelain mug contained a reddish liquid, lukewarm from the long walk over, but earthy and tangy. “Woodrose Tea, made with petals from Hollow Bough,” Toriel announced proudly, rubbing at a couple bandages on her hands. “Took me a while to get the mixture right, hmhm…”

“My my, what ever is the occasion?” he inquired, though his smile made him seem facetious, “A holiday I’m unaware of? Perhaps someone’s birthday?” he took to the tea first, having to admit that the chance to drink something other than the same old water was one he wasn’t about to pass up. He pressed the mug to his lips, keeping the sip deliberately short so as to savor, “Delicious.” he said, tipping the mug as if to offer a toast.

“Every day’s a good day to make someone’s day,” Toriel smiled. “I’m glad you like it!”

He let himself take a bite of the Sourdough, but also eyed the admittedly tasty looking Omelant. In the past he probably would have turned his nose up at this sort of food. How far the mighty can certainly fall, “How long do you suppose my would-be warden can successfully keep me here?” he asked all of a sudden. While this wasn’t the first time he had asked a question like this, this was the first time he followed it up with another one, “Surely they must know that no prison can hold me forever? Not so long as I have this.” he held up his right hand, revealing the pulsing glow of a golden triangle on the back of it just below the knuckles and above the wrist. He even clenched it into a fist, which appeared to almost make the glow brighten up further for a fleeting moment before it faded away, but he made no sudden moves, no attempts to attack or break his chains. Instead he just returned to his meal while awaiting her answer.

Toriel’s worried gaze rested on the sigil. It did look powerful, but after a little reflection that didn’t distress her nearly as much as Ganondorf’s question. “I’m…not sure.” She recalled the ‘warden’ who occasionally showed up to pay the King of Evil a visit. Though youthful in stature and temperament, he’d proven to be the exception when it came to Toriel’s love of children. His visits, infrequent and unpredictable to suggest that he came by on a whim, consisted more of taunting, gloating, and bothering Ganondorf with minions from a distance than any official business. Whether or not the Consul was responsible for imprisoning him in the first place, Toriel couldn’t even say. She sighed. “To be honest, well…I don’t really think he cares about you, one way or the other. I hesitate to speak ill of anyone, but he does seem to regard us all as no more than toys in his sandbox.”

“How interesting,” he said after enjoying another sip of the tea, “he does sound like quite the child, doesn’t he?” after this he had a bite of the mushroom salad, “Exquisite, by the way.” he said of the meal, “But even more interesting, is the thought of what this apparent child could possibly have that he could issue commands to a Queen.” that last line might have come as a surprise. Toriel hadn’t exactly told this prisoner much about herself personally. And yet here he was apparently aware that she was a Queen, or at least had been at one time, “Ah, my apologies, but I’ve been around enough royals to know one when I see one. And you, my dear, positively radiate with nobility and royalty.”

He fell back to silence again. Returning to his meal and allowing his present company a chance to react or respond however she saw fit to.

Toriel caught her breath, stepping back. After a moment, though, she swallowed, and lowered his brow with a look of resolution. “...Not anymore,” she told him. “My husband…he wanted what was best for everyone. But he was stubborn. Terribly, terribly stubborn. He kept on walking down the path he’d chosen, though we all knew it to be the wrong one. Even himself. So I couldn’t stand to be around him any longer.” She bent down to pick up Ganondorf’s tray, then met his eyes. “That’s just how it is. With kings, I suppose.”

“With weak kings, perhaps.” he said in surprising agreement, “For myself, I knew exactly what my goal was, and was every bit resolved to see it through to the bitter end.” this was the first time he’d said this much about his own personal history to her, “A pity that the one I thought I could trust did not agree with me.” he said, not exactly elaborating on who that was or the circumstances behind their apparent falling out, “But for what it was worth,” he held up his hand and the glow of the triangle revealed itself once again, “I at least got part of what I was after. And I did it without the aid of those traitors. So in the end I suppose I never needed them in the first place.”

This time, he didn’t see a whole lot of fear in Toriel’s eyes. Only sadness. “Everyone needs someone,” she murmured. “I thought I would be in a better place when I cut away all the others, and perhaps I am, but…loneliness, too, is a terrible thing. In the end, this is where we are.” Her gaze drifted around the Temple of the Black Egg.

“[i]They[/i] betrayed [i]me[/i].” he said in a surprisingly defensive tone, “My quest for this power was for [i]them[/i], for us all. Before this we were little more than bandits living in a barren desert. I wanted more than that, and believed it was only right to share that desire with the others. This power would have given us the means to leave that wretched desert and stake a claim of our own in the world. But they were the ones who decided I had gone mad.” he stopped himself, realizing he was beginning to rant more than he’d originally intended. Despite all that happening years ago, it apparently still stung deep down on some level.

Toriel stepped back as the prisoner began his tirade, inadvertently yanking at his chains as he did. She stood in silence, half turned away, until he got a load off his chest. She couldn’t blame him for, well, blaming others. Or having a lot of bottled-up rage deep within. A situation like this seemed hellish from any standpoint, and yet, here he was, the same as her. Two ex-royals, ferreted away in the earth. “I want to believe that people get what they deserve,” she murmured. “Which means I have to believe you’re as evil as they say, to warrant such a fate.” Her face fell. “But…to be honest, while I’ve enjoyed taking care of you, I’ve been hoping that someday I’ll come and find you gone. Bound for a better life. Better people. Because then, having failed another lost soul, I could do the same.”

“You needn’t worry about that, my dear Jailer.” Ganondorf said with a smile. One last time he held up his right hand, this time the triangle’s glow appeared to be a bit brighter than before, as if it were gaining strength even as they spoke, “As I told you, this prison cannot hold me forever. This mark is the very symbol of power itself, and it always grows. My strength will return to me soon enough, and when it does…” he clenched his hand into a fist, letting the triangular mark give as bright of a glow as he could currently muster before slamming it into the black wall behind him. The most damage he caused was a few cracks forming where his fist had made contact. But the intended message was clear as day.

Toriel gave a humorless laugh, clearly done with the dangerous man’s bravado. “Then hurry, King of Evil. While I’m not around to stop you.”