About me: My goal is to post once a week on Fridays (though Thursday is common). However, my life is not always the most predictable, so it may be pushed back to once a month. I will warn you if this has to happen. I also have another fic on a different site and a blog I have to keep up with. Edit: also job hunting.

About the story: Go play the Subspace Emissary adventure mode on SSB Brawl if you haven't. I only say this because I love it, not because you need it to understand the story. The silent, visual storytelling is worth it (and is how I can kick ass with every character). I picked and plucked what I wanted from various popular Nintendo games in order to weave my mythos together while trying not to actively contradict anything. If you've played more Mario than I have (likely), Star Fox (not likely), or Kid Icarus (definitely) and you see issues, totes tell me. There's a continuity demon in my head that screams in my brain constantly, and he would be very upset that we missed details during our research.

About the characters: I unapologetically use the character design of Ganondorf from Hyrule Warriors and I am not the least bit sorry. And I'll explain in-story why Link and Zelda have bits of their every self.

Teleporting felt a lot like freefalling to death in a dream—that terrifying, weightless sensation of adrenaline-pumped freedom, ending in a few seconds of disorientation and relief as the brain realized it wasn't actually going to paint the ground in an amateur Jackson Pollock impression. From the moment Ganondorf appeared at Bowser's gate, that dizzying rush was followed by an even more pungent one of inhaled ash and sulfur, and the heat wave of noxious fumes that even Gerudo did not normally have to endure made him lift an arm to cover his cough. Eugh, it was like walking into a furnace.

Despite the air, the Demon King regained his poise and strode to the great double doors of the castle. The koopa-themed monstrosity was littered with Bowser's own vanity: the tops of the spires, the front gate, and the storm drains were all in likeness of his gaping mouth, and it all stood as one tacky monolith on an island above a lake of lava. Ganondorf had time to wonder disdainfully if such childish displays of power actually frightened anyone, but he remembered what small creatures toadstools and koopas were; it was probably enough to do the job and then some. He lifted one of the round, golden knockers and banged it twice against the door.

No response.

He walked in. He met no resistance at the entrance, no servant. There weren't even any lights but what dim, hellish glow shone into the great hall from the lava moat outside. Warning bells immediately started going off in Ganondorf's head. He glanced at the obnoxious Doric columns and had half a moment of disapproving incredulity at their koopa-claw bases as his mind screamed TRAP at an animalistic pitch he couldn't ignore, half a second before the front doors slammed shut behind him.

In another castle, hundreds of miles and a lifetime ago, he had pulled this same trick on an unsuspecting Hero of Time. What right did Bowser have to use the same tired trope against him?

"Rragh!" he screamed into the sudden darkness. That lizard had two seconds to respond or this place was getting leveled. What kind of stunt was this? Who did he think he was? His voice echoed through the empty hall until it faded into nothingness. His fists burst into red flame to the sound of disembodied laughter drifting through foul-smelling halls.

"Ganondorf," cracked Bowser's voice. The name was heard as a series of raspy animal grunts, but Ganondorf was fluent in both Dodongo and Koopa, which came from the same language root. "I'm glad you got my invitation."

Ganondorf surveyed the room impatiently. The walls were solid, windows were nonexistent (and wouldn't have been much help, considering they'd have dropped over the fire lake). Still, nothing seemed outright ready to eat him; he was alone. Dismissiveness crept into his tone as well as his expression. "You don't get to play these games with me, boy. I put you where you are," he replied in Koopa, "and I can destroy you. Stop this now and I may spare your life when I get up there."

"Oh-ho-ho, if you can get up here." Bowser chuckled, and that irked Ganondorf more than the rest of the events of the evening combined: King Koopa was about to get his horns ripped off. "I'm not taking orders from you anymore, you see. After that Subspace mess you put us through, no one wants to listen to you anymore."

"Is that right," Ganondorf asked evenly. He smirked and walked toward the center of the hall, arms spread theatrically to the darkness. "And by 'we,' you mean you. What makes you think I won't just blink up to your tower and replace you and Kamek with more competent lieutenants, King Koopa?"

"I have a secret weapon. You don't control me anymore. I've decided to bring in a new era."

"And what era is that, you dumb turtle?" Ganondorf snapped back, his accent getting tainted by his Gerudean in his rising impatience. "Is it the one where I let Demise make a crater out of Mushroom Kingdom? Tell me your game. What do you want?"

"Don't expect your divinity to help you."

"Tell me!" Ganondorf roared. Bowser's last words sank into Ganondorf's skin with an unsettling chill. Bowser was not some masterminded villain brave enough to take on someone he knew was bigger. Bowser preyed on the weak, nothing more than a sandbox bully kicking sand in plumbers' eyes. This odd plot against the Demon King was unexpected, not only because of his aforementioned lack of ambition, but because Ganondorf knew he lacked that sort of creativity, which means that someone else was putting him up to this. This wildcard was using Ganondorf's own forces against him, and they knew enough to have a plan for his magic.

Dealing with Bowser was nowhere near the top of his priority list, then. As soon as the koopa was out of the way, he would have whoever this challenger was made out as an example: no one used what was his. No one.

But who would know about his connection to Demise?

Ganondorf had to put that thought aside. Almost as soon as his shriek finished bouncing off the cloud-grey stone, the ground began to shake, and he braced himself for the deafening rumble of gears as the traps set usually for the plumbers clicked heavily into place throughout the lower floors. He was being treated as some luck-cheating, plot-armored dimwit. This was no doubt Bowser's own part of the plan. It had the markings of him all over it.

What Bowser and this new Wildcard failed to realize, Ganondorf thought to himself, was that Demise wasn't some sort of separate entity he could be separated from. Demise was Ganondorf: the Demon King was so named because his soul was that of a dark god, born into mortal form the way the princess of Hyrule was born as the incarnated goddess Hylia. Yes, their powers were dampened: physicality by nature had its limits, and Ganondorf was all-too aware of his own when it came to fighting Zelda and her chosen Pawn of Time; but when it came down to it, nothing short of holy light itself could stop him. Maybe the Wildcard was misinformed by Bowser, or was somehow cobbling together what information they had with some counter-magic they'd gotten hold of, hoping it would be enough to stay him.

Well, before he ended their life, Ganondorf would have to make sure the Wildcard knew exactly how misinformed they had been.

The Demon King exhaled and pooled his will to him. Energy rippled in through his limbs, ecstasy building in his chest from a rush of mystic power that always made him feel nigh invincible and dreamlike, pushing dark, wicked laughter from his lungs and up towards the ceiling. His magic was sloppy; his power spilled over in all directions rather than fired with arrow-like precision, but he'd long ago gotten strong enough that his aim hardly mattered. He focused enough on his destination to see Bowser's top-floor apartments clearly, and willed himself to teleport.

Nothing happened. There was no feeling of freefall, no sense of vertigo as reality rushed up to meet him while his human brain was trapped in the last few seconds it remembered. Ganondorf opened his eyes to the same empty, dim entrance hall he just tried to leave; there was something holy that had stopped him. Someone knew their lore after all.

This was troublesome. Ganondorf opened his fists and let most of his energy seep back out into the air where it hung around him, perceived like static to anyone unable to see the subtle currents of violet and red dark magic he'd called. He would actually have to run the course as Bowser's nemesis, an absurd task for a distinguished player like himself. If that's how it had to be, Bowser would pay for every inconvenience he caused him.

Two hours saw no improvement in Ganondorf's mood.

The Demon King kicked the door open rather than open it with his hands. Wood splintered, iron bent, and splinters flew into a room full of Boos that he did not have time for.

He'd just left a room with a giant, repetitive guillotine in his path. He'd thrown monsters into lava pits, floated over spikes, and rained down dark magic on fleeing minions he had no intention of letting escape. Everything in his wake was broken and dead, and if he could set it on fire, it was that, too.

This was what it meant to irritate the Demon King. There would be no cleanup crew with a strong enough stomach to handle the job. He'd had enough of this.

The Boos floated aimlessly throughout the room, their numbers the only reason he hesitated at all. If he bothered to fight all of them now, he would let himself get fatigued before he got up to Bowser's level (which was probably what he wanted). Well, he had a better idea.

The sword across his back glowed red, surrounded by wispy, black smoke. He felt its desire claw at a small corner of his mind. It desired blood. It desired to serve its master. Ganondorf pulled it from its sheath and planted it into the floor.

"Ghirahim, wake up for me."

The sword became a cloud of diamonds, which then became a man. Ghirahim stood in pristine, cut-out white tights and a cape that dazzled almost as much as his diva smile.

"Master, you called!"

"Clear me a path," Ganondorf ordered. The sweltering heat was finally making an impression on the Gerudo-born thief; sweat shone on dark arms and glistened over thick, red eyebrows. He wasn't tired yet, but tired was not a thing he could afford to become.

Ghirahim bowed and moved faster than Ganondorf's gaze could follow. The sword spirit was a blur as it cut a path through the ghosts so that Ganondorf could walk, unhindered, to the other side without having to lift a finger.

Ganondorf kicked the next door and reached out his hand; Ghirahim flew back to Ganondorf, who used the Zanbato-like black sword to smash his way through whatever remained of the poor door. He was done, finished with playing this game. He knew there had to be a service tunnel around there, somewhere.

And sure enough, there was. Hidden in the ceiling among the timed anvils and swinging logs, there were minions who had to make sure they were well oiled and working. Ganondorf released Ghirahim and used all his power to rip one of the metal stalks from the ceiling as it came down, levitated himself up to the service shaft, and let himself loose. What little escaped the Demon King did not escape Ghirahim. He was sheathed as Ganondorf prowled up the service tunnels and ventilation ducts, occasionally blasting rats and koopas to all walls at once with magic in his impatience until he was standing outside of Bowser's chambers.

He paused at the sound of conversation: "Of course I sent them away."

Wait, was that the Wildcard? He knew that voice—a sweet, feminine soprano he had never given much thought to. She was outside of his plans and meaningless to the scope of his goals, and so escaped his notice; but he had heard her name before, and knew she was acquainted with a princess that he was well familiar with. What was she doing here?

Bowser rumbled something too low for Ganondorf to pick up, but it didn't sound pleasant. Princess Peach sounded offended. "They're your lieutenants, yes. But they're our children. I won't let them get hurt when the castle can just whittle down that magic-slinging maniac before he ever gets up here." A pause from her. "No, I don't think they need to know. Zelda will just want them back in their places where they're vulnerable to any ill-wishing scoundrel. At least this way we can ensure everything goes well. I doubt anyone will know it was me."

Bowser finally spoke loud enough for Ganondorf to hear: "I hope this works, my princess." There was a rustle of cloth.

Ganondorf sighed inwardly—of course they were in this together. As briefly amusing as imagining Mario's face might've been, Ganondorf was coming to other conclusions. What exactly had Peach stolen? Given the context of the evening, the likeliest answer was the worst one. She was endangering their entire existence and couldn't possibly have known it. The Triforce did not belong here.

Ganondorf slammed his sword through the door and kicked the rest of it out of the way as he pointed his weapon at Bowser. "Give it back!" he roared.

The Sacred Relic hung like a child's plastic mobile over King Koopa's bed, not even a barrier around to protect it. It bathed the room in rich, golden light. The only part of Ganondorf's heart that still existed leapt at the sight of it: how dare they. Hyrule and Termina and all the lands around them must already be starting to crumble in its absence while these two idled under it. Also worth noting, no one had spent more of their lives trying to claim it than Ganondorf. Its rightful place was with him, and not in the Mushroom Kingdom.

Princess Peach was in her nightgown. Bowser looked stunned. The princess threw off her blanket and made a mad grab for it.

"Don't!" Ganondorf cried. The unusual note of panic in his voice made Peach pause right before she touched it. "Princess, you don't know what you're doing."

"Take one more step and I'll wish you from existence," Princess Peach declared in her little sing-song voice. It had an edge of malice to it. "Leave us. Now."

"Your own ignorance will wish everyone out with me," Ganondorf snapped. "You will be monarchs over a void of ash. Is that what you want?" He saw Peach's brows furrow in confusion and he saw his chance. "You don't understand how the Triforce works, do you."

"Enlighten me, Demon King."

Ganondorf exhaled slowly. Peach's hand continued to hover near the Triforce, and he could not turn his gaze from what could be the final end of them all. He could hear his own pulse in his ears. "Princess, you know the Sacred Relic was created by the three golden goddesses that gave shape to my part of the world. Din, Nayru, and Farore were only three of the gods that made our universe what it is today. They worked in collusion with other divine spirits, and as each set of spirits ascended back to the heavens, they left behind the Parting Relics." He nodded to the Triforce. "Without it over its native soil, the Hylian lands will begin to disintegrate."

"Why should that matter to you?" Princess Peach asked. "Suppose I believe you, why would you care?"

"Because I want to rule it, not destroy it."

"Makes sense," muttered Bowser from her side.

Princess Peach narrowed her eyes at Ganondorf. She didn't have to believe him entirely; the Demon King was never to be trusted wholeheartedly, but there could be a grain of truth in what he said. If so, she'd just put Zelda in danger. One of the closest friends Peach had would be reaping the consequences of her actions.

"You expect me to just give this to you?" Peach demanded.

Ganondorf lowered himself to his knees and slowly slid his sword across the floor obsequiously. "I expect it to be returned to Hyrule," he said carefully. "What happens to it as long as it's within Hylian borders means less than taking it at this very moment."

Peach looked worried. "I could return it later."

"It doesn't work that way!" Ganondorf insisted. He held his hands aloft to prove he wasn't armed. "Princess, you are destroying the fabric of existence. The Triforce does not belong to you. If you would just ask where the Parting Relic of the Mushroom Kingdom is, I would gladly send you on your way."

"Lies. You're a liar, Ganondorf," Peach declared. "I bet you've made this all up. You just want it for yourself."

There was a flash of light; in the heat of the moment, no one was watching the sword Ganondorf had slid across the floor. Ghirahim removed Peach's hand closest to the Triforce, and as she fell, sobbing, clutching her ruined arm, Bowser grabbed Ghirahim's face and threw him wholesale into the wall behind Ganondorf.

Ganondorf summoned his sword back to his hand as the dragon turtle lunged at his face.

Claws blocked sword. Bowser swiped at Ganondorf's face and forced him back a step. Ganondorf realized how badly he miscalculated his actions as Bowser stomped after him, breathing fire. The Demon King ducked right to avoid the flames and felt the brush of intense heat on the back of his calf.

"Bowser!"

Bowser roared in response. Ganondorf's eyes darted quickly to Peach and saw thankfully that she was alive, crying over the words of her own healing spell. Maybe there was some salvaging this, after all.

A tail swipe nearly cleared Ganondorf off his feet and forced him toward a window. Bowser looked murderous, ready to breathe fire once again. His princess was injured, and he was going to destroy the one who'd done it, regardless of the consequences.

Okay, maybe there was no salvaging this.

Ganondorf threw Ghirahim at Peach. "Hostage!" he cried, and stepped inside Bowser's reach. His training in swordplay and unarmed combat had been primarily against human-like creatures, but even Bowser had some weaknesses. And he was slower.

Ganondorf drove his fist into Bowser's nose before Bowser could bite it off. Instead of toppling him, though, it only made him angrier. Ganondorf leapt up and used his levitation to cling to the ceiling just as Bowser bathed the path before him in fire.

Peach yelped.

Bowser swung around to stare at Ghirahim, murder in his eyes. Ganondorf saw the end for his most loyal servant, but the Triforce was right there. If he could just touch it before Bowser destroyed Ghirahim, he could save their skins and get back to Hyrule before anyone blinked.

Besides, Ghirahim could handle this.

"Am I doing well, Master?" Ghirahim called trustingly, holding Peach's back against him with a blade to her neck.

"Sharp as ever," Ganondorf replied distractedly. His eyes were filled with golden light.

Bowser growled deeply, low and menacing enough to remind Ganondorf that King Koopa was, in fact, a dragon. He wasn't sure if Princess Peach or Ghirahim were going to survive the next few seconds, but in his bones he felt that something was wrong: wishing them back to Hyrule wouldn't fix whatever was broken. Part of him knew that the things going on now couldn't be reversed in the present time, and he would need assistance undoing what was about to happen to Hylian lands.

His present plans would have to wait. He wanted to conquer all of Hylia, not unmake it. "Ghirahim," he said, as he saw a tearful Peach begin to move and Bowser prepare to leap. He held out his hand. "Come to me."

For a moment, time seemed to slow in Ganondorf's mind. Peach rammed her head back into Ghirahim's nose as the demon sword sizzled into a streak of lightning toward Ganondorf's hand. Bowser pounced. Ganondorf fell toward the Triforce, his left hand outstretched. The princess looked up at them in horror as they touched it, blue eyes far too bright and innocent.

This was for the best.

Ganondorf was used to a feeling of freefalling like in a dream. He came to expect the rush it sent from his chest to a knot in his throat, and could normally blink away the dizziness in about a second. There was no feeling of adrenaline. There was no sudden drop.

There was just him, Ghirahim, and the continued force of momentum as they crashed to the floor in a palace full of Hyrulean guards staring at them both, with Princess Zelda recovering swiftly enough to aim a Light arrow straight at Ganondorf's chest.

Both Demon King and sword spirit looked up in exhausted surprise. "What did you wish for, Master?" Ghirahim whispered into the tense silence.

Ganondorf met Princess Zelda's cold, blue eyes with his feral golden ones. She was too far away to hear him, "To change fate."

The arrow pierced his armor and struck him in the heart as he rose. He gasped, searing pain tearing at the darkness within him. Everything spun. He could hear that sing-song voice again, a flash of pink next to Zelda, asking what she was going to do with him.

"The dungeon," was the answer. Guards were running nearby. Someone shouted a curse, but whatever was causing the disturbance around him evidently got away. Things weren't making sense anymore. He collapsed back to the floor.

And precious hours began ticking down on the last three days of Hyrule.