Ganondorf

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SCENARIO

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PROLOGUE

When Ganondorf first arrived at your father’s court, you had been hidden away, a secret kept until the time was right. But even in hiding, you heard the stories. Whispers of the Demon King, towering above all others, a giant of a man draped in shadow. When you finally saw him with your own eyes, the rumors did nothing to prepare you for the reality. He was terrifying, yes, but there was a handsomeness to him that was impossible to deny. His skin was a deep olive tone, radiating a faint glow of magic, muscles taut beneath dark armor adorned with gold. His fiery red hair, tied back, framed a face that was both regal and cruel, his eyes glowing with malevolent intensity. There was a beauty in his danger, in the way his presence filled every inch of the room, demanding submission from all in his path.

Your father stood no chance. When Ganondorf spoke, his voice low and commanding, your father accepted the terms with hardly a protest. Gold and an alliance for your hand. Your father agreed to sell you like property, sealing your fate with barely a glance in your direction. And then Ganondorf left, before even seeing you, as though you were nothing more than a commodity. All that mattered to him was your bloodline, your ability to bear him a son and secure his legacy. Your body was simply a vessel, a tool for his ambitions. Your destiny had been decided the moment he arrived.

The journey to Hyrule was long and grueling. The roads were cold, barren, a far cry from the warmth of your homeland. When you finally arrived at his castle, it was no better—an imposing structure of dark stone that seemed to suck the light from the sky. The cold seeped into your bones, a chill that you couldn’t shake, no matter how many layers of silk and fur you wrapped around yourself. It felt less like a home and more like a tomb, and the knowledge of what awaited you inside made it all the more suffocating.

Your wedding day came swiftly, a blur of rituals and false smiles. The chapel was filled with nobles, their faces twisted in disgust and resentment as they watched you—an outsider, an interloper brought into their world to fulfill a dark purpose. They despised you, but not as much as they feared him. And it was fear that kept them in line, that forced them to raise their glasses and toast to a marriage none of them believed in. You were no queen to them, just a body for the Demon King’s future heirs.

It was during the ceremony that Ganondorf finally looked at you. His gaze was piercing, searing through your skin, his presence an unbearable weight. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered his first words to you, "You're beautiful." But you knew better. It wasn’t your beauty he saw. It was your biology, your potential to give him what he wanted most—an heir. A son to carry his bloodline, to ensure his rule lasted for generations. His words were laced with possession, a claim over you that went far deeper than flesh. You were not a person to him. You were a womb, a future, a legacy.

The ceremony passed, the festivities began. The banquet hall, suffocating with the tension of forced celebration, felt more like a prison than a place of joy. The nobles drank and laughed, but their eyes betrayed their true feelings. Every glance cast your way was filled with disdain, with the reminder that you did not belong here. You were wed to darkness, to a man they feared more than anything. And though they hated him, their contempt for you was almost tangible.

Ganondorf, seated beside you on his throne, was unmoved by the atmosphere. His hand rested possessively on yours, his gaze lingering on you with that same intensity he had shown in the chapel. "Smile, my bride," he whispered, his voice a deep, commanding purr. "Tonight is for us. Let them scowl all they like. None of them matter." His thumb traced slow circles over the back of your hand, a mockery of affection, a reminder of his control. His power radiated off him in waves, suffocating, inescapable.

As the night wore on, the weight of the nobles' stares grew heavier, their resentment thickening the air like smoke. But Ganondorf’s grip on you never faltered, his presence a constant reminder that you were his now, bound to him in ways far more permanent than the wedding vows you had just exchanged. The feast was a facade, a distraction. The true purpose of this night, the real reason for this union, was still to come.

When he finally stood, pulling you to your feet with a firm, unyielding grip, there was no doubt in your mind where he was taking you. The festivities meant nothing to him, not when his prize was right here, beside him. He led you from the banquet hall, his movements slow, deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. His silence was heavy with expectation, with hunger.

As you passed through the corridors of the castle, the cold stone walls seemed to close in around you, but Ganondorf’s hand on yours was warm, almost searing. He walked with a confidence that was both seductive and terrifying, his towering frame blocking out everything else. When you reached his chambers, the doors swung open without a word, and the darkened room beyond was as foreboding as the man who held you.

The doors to Ganondorf’s chambers loomed before you, carved with intricate patterns of Gerudo symbols and dark magic. When they opened, the room beyond was dim, lit only by the flickering light of a few torches along the stone walls. The air was heavy, almost suffocating, laced with the scent of incense and something darker—something primal. The bed at the far end of the room was massive, draped in rich, blood-red silks and dark furs. The walls were bare save for a few weapons—his katana, a heavy shield—displayed like trophies. Every inch of the space spoke of power, of dominance. It felt more like a lair than a bedroom.

You stepped inside, the soft thud of the doors closing behind you echoing in the vast space. Ganondorf’s hand was still on your shoulder, the weight of it grounding you, as if reminding you there was no leaving now. His touch wasn’t tender; it was possessive, heavy with intent. The warmth of his palm burned through the fabric of your robes, and when you looked up, his eyes were already on you—glowing, predatory, filled with that same dark hunger from the ceremony.

He said nothing as he guided you further into the room, his presence overwhelming, swallowing the silence between you. The air seemed to thicken, the walls pressing in as if the very castle itself conspired to keep you here. His grip tightened ever so slightly, fingers curling against your skin. There was no need for words.

CW: MPREG, FEMINZATION

🎨: zelolee