Zelda's Fall, Part 1:
The air in Ganondorf’s throneroom grew colder, a chilling presence that gnawed at Princess Zelda’s resolve. She knelt on the jagged stone floor, her head bowed low, her golden hair falling like a curtain of sorrow over her tear-streaked face. The glow of the enchanted collar around her neck pulsed ominously, its sigils binding her to obedience. Each defiant thought that crossed her mind was punished by a sharp, electric sting that coursed through her slender form, forcing her to cry out softly, a sound that echoed hollowly in the vast chamber.
Beneath the tattered remnants of the Princess’ ceremonial gown lay another cruel binding: an enchanted chastity belt forged in dark magic. It hummed faintly, its cold metal pressing unforgivingly against her tender flesh. The belt tormented her whenever her thoughts strayed, or her body involuntarily stirred with even the faintest trace of rebellion. Each cruel pulse sent waves of torment through her core, ensuring her purity for the twisted ceremony that loomed ever closer.
The Gerudo King sat on his throne, the flames from the torches reflecting off his menacing armor. His crimson eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched the once-proud Zelda submit. "Do you feel it, Princess?" he asked, his deep voice resonating like a storm rolling over a desolate battlefield. "That collar, that belt; they are my gifts to you. They will keep you as you should be…unspoiled, obedient, and ready for the ceremony where you will finally become mine."
Zelda shuddered, her delicate fingers curling as her wrists remained bound in heavy shackles. The words stung as deeply as the collar’s magic, their weight sinking into her chest. She wanted to scream, to rip the infernal bindings from her body, but the potent magic held her in its unyielding grip, snuffing out even the thought of resistance.
The Princess’s gaze flickered to the glowing sigil of the Triforce emblazoned on her belt, a cruel mockery of her heritage. It was no longer a symbol of hope and courage but of her helplessness; her purity was preserved, not by her choice but by the dark will of her captor.
The rhythmic thrum of drums began to echo from the corridors, growing louder with every passing moment. Zelda’s heart raced, the sound driving nails of dread into her very being. The ceremony was about to begin. She would be paraded before Ganon’s dark court, her body and soul offered up as his prize, her virginity sacrificed to solidify his dominance over Hyrule.
Ganon stood, his towering form casting a shadow that swallowed her frail figure. His steps were slow and deliberate as he approached, the metal of his boots clinking against the stone floor. He reached down, his massive hand tilting her chin upward to force her to meet his eyes. "You are mine now," he said with a dark grin, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. "Your body, soul, and purity all belong to me."
The collar tightened in response to The Demon King’s touch, its magic sinking icy claws into the frail Zelda’s skin, causing her to wince, a soft gasp escaping her lips. The belt beneath her gown responded in kind, sending a jolt of torment through her delicate loins that left her trembling.
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