A War on Two Fronts

I blinked. Or... I tried to, at least.

What's going on?

My eyes were open. I tried closing them, moving them, but my body would not respond. Something's wrong.

My heart beat. I could feel it, and I heard the blood pounding in my ears. But my body... I could not move an inch. A thick, hard something pressed down on every side of me, enveloping my body, preventing even the smallest twitch. Sucks, too. I really needed to scratch my nose...

I tried taking a breath. Stupid, really. Whatever it was that covered me did a fine job of plugging my nostrils. There was no air. I couldn't breathe!

So why am I not dead?

After some time, I don't know how long, my heart ceased its constant hammering, going back to a more sedate pace. The thought was more than a bit disconcerting. Last I checked, people needed air to live.

Right?

Maybe I could break out of here...

Where was here anyway? Though I couldn't move them, my eyes remained open and in front of me was a sea of aquamarine. Veins of red, green and pink could be seen throughout. A rock of some type? No, or else I'd be seeing nothing but dark. A crystal prison, perhaps?

The hell is going on?!

Think, damn it. Think. What happened before all this?

Last thing I remember was... the bus. Yes, the bus. It hit me, didn't it? It's starting to come back to me, yes.

I... I remember being in my apartment. Not a specially eventful day. It was my day off work and I'd been taking it easy, lounging and spending time as I saw fit and then... the convention! Yes, I bought a ticket. I was in the computer, amusing myself by photoshopping a picture of a shaolin monk headbutting a small child when I received a call from Alex.

Yes, it's getting clearer. She called to make sure I remembered to pick her up. Honestly, she can be such a mother hen sometimes. I left the computer and picked out my costume, an ostentatious(read; expensive) set I ordered online. A plastic(obviously) armor, plated and in mute, dark colors of blue, black and gold trimmings, a dark crimson cape that touched the ground. Hell, I'd even swung by the local military surplus store a few days earlier to pick up a little tub of black camo paint.

I picked out the costume, the essentials and placed them in my car, going the well-traveled route to pick up Alex. We made it early and we both went to the respective dressing rooms to put on our costumes.

Alex looked, for lack of a better word, divine. An elegant, flowing dress that complimented her slender figure. White skirt and gloves of an almost silken material that reached past her elbows. Her auburn hair flowed like a river, combed to perfection and a tiara of gold(at least something that resembled gold) completing the outfit. She looked like a queen.

Or rather, a princess. Princess Zelda. Yes, she chose that costume.

For months she pestered me to participate. I didn't particularly like the idea of going up on a stage for the masses to judge, but she wore me down to the point that I accepted.

Our number was called, and we got a fairly positive cheer from the masses. Alex grinned, supporting herself against my armored figure in the classic, uh... damsel in distress pose, I think. The crowd ate it up and me? Well, I just scowled, arms stiff against my sides. No one seemed to mind.

The convention ended, and we made for the car. I didn't want to pay twenty bucks to park so I chose a spot a couple blocks away, despite Alex's protests. She had removed her princess shoes(I don’t quite remember Zelda wearing heels. Oh, well.) going barefoot while I held her bags' worth of merchandise. Because I'm the guy and all.

She stalked a few paces ahead of me, enjoying the cool night breeze, reminiscing of a 'successful con'—we won second place, by the way—while I contented myself by agreeing to every point she brought up, not paying much attention.

Then the damn bus came. We crossed the street while the asshole driver stopped too late. Well, I think we might have jaywalked, so there's that. Alex was still gushing over how she commanded the guys' attention in her costume—couldn't blame her, really—that she didn't see the multi-ton death machine barreling toward her.

Well, I did. I lunged forward, tackling her out of the way. So much so that she kind of flew a bit, landing hard on her hands. I wasn't so lucky. The headlights drew nearer, the near deafening sound of the horn, yet the last thing I remember was her scream. Alex's voice wracked with panic and desperation as she called out my name.

'Alex.' Almost involuntarily, I said her name. Well, more like a guttural sound emerged from my throat. Was my voice always so deep, so guttural?

Questions, questions, questions. All these questions, yet no answer. Anger welled within me. Anger at being trapped in this prison, anger at not knowing where I was, anger at these questions without an answer, anger at not knowing if Alex was safe.

My heart pounded again, racing. The anger... it strengthened me. Like a good friend, long since lost, meeting again for the first time. My right hand pulsed with warmth, power. A power I'd never felt before, yet felt right, as familiar as the blood coursing through my veins.

My muscles tensed. I felt invincible. Powerful. I allowed this power to fill me like a drug and used this newfound strength to break out my prison. Cracks formed in front of me. Not good enough. I needed more strength, more power, and as if tuned to my thoughts, that small source of power from my right hand answered, gifting me with even more strength.

I jerked my limbs in any direction I could. The cracks grew larger. More power, near limitless, flowed from that small source at my hand and this time, the crystal prison shattered.

Shards exploded every which way, crashing against hard surfaces, mirrors and metal. And yet, I could have sworn I heard multiple voices cry out in surprise.

I gasped, drawing in mass amounts of precious air and it filled my starving lungs like the sweetest ambrosia. My eyes followed. They adjusted to their new state, similarly drinking in the refreshing feel of air. Nothing but the dull grey of concrete beneath me.

"W-what in Celestia's plot..."

A voice. Weak, trembling. My gaze lifted, only to land on a... horse? With armor...

I blinked stupidly and realized I was not alone. More of these small horses, garbed in armor. And they all came in baffling ranges of color.

Wut?

They all goggled at me with unnaturally massive eyes and for several seconds, I did the same.

I studied them and realized the horses... well, more like ponies, I think, wore two different sets of armor. One darker than the other, in black. They stood on opposite sides of me, their armor scuffed and damaged. Some of them had weapons strapped to their sides and almost all scraped, short of breath or bleeding from minor cuts.

Opposite parties. Recently fighting. A war of some type?

What the hell is going on?!

Steadily, I rose from my kneeled position. Was I always this tall? Last I checked, I stood a respectable six feet, but damn, I think I gained at least a foot and a half. That or the little ponies came in extra miniature. I didn't have anything to compare them to, so it could be either way.

Several sets of eyes followed my every movement, wide with either awe or fear. I took in my surroundings. A chamber made of stone. It certainly had seen better days. Furniture lay smashed, in rubble, windows broken, banners and tapestries ripped apart or scorched and two massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

Sweeping over the room, my attention was commanded by a mirror, just a bit taller than me. Pieces of it lay missing, as evident by the many shards of my crystal prison that shattered it. I stepped toward it. My body felt more robust, full of power and muscles more massive than I was accustomed to and I swear, the ground trembled lightly with my every step.

I did not recognize the visage before me. Or... I did. I just wasn't used to seeing it where my face should be. My skin a dull, grayish blue, red hair and a broad, massive face that radiated malice. I knew it well and the name escaped my lips, a whisper.

"Ganondorf."