"Fire and Ice, a song as old as the civilised world", the mystical voice spoke from within the endless abyss in which he found himself, a voice of contradiction, both sweet and sour, male and female, high and low, it was hard to describe accurately. In fact, english lacked the vocabulary to properly describe it, "That song is bound to cause many a harm and leave the realm of mortals vulnerable. We have tried warning the men and women, we have fractured ourselves to become the gods to guide the world into a better path but we have lost our delicate control of these beings, now they vie for power amongst each other. They still remember their purpose, to ward off the night, but they aren't working together. Now, we seek a different approach, a mortal champion, with powers large enough to take on the threat up north. We have seen into your soul, your mind, your being and have taken a form you desire. It's powers will be yours. We don't have much time left. If you stand amongst us for too much longer, your soul will disintegrate. Good luck and remember… winter is coming"
He didn't have time to process what was being said before he was gone from this void and landed on his feet, "What was that?"
His voice came out wrong, too deep and gravely, "My voice?! I- that voice, was that god?", he had been an atheist but that seemed to shatter his belief that there were no gods, that had to have been a god, to rip him from his cozy life and throw him here… where was here?
Around him was endless stretches of desert, "They said something about fire and ice and that winter is coming… is this the world of game of thrones?"
If so, then this must've been Dorne. Of course god would drop him off in a desert, just his luck, "They said something about the form I desire, didn't they?"
For the first time, he looked at his body, dark skin, with an armor of black and jewelry of gold, arm rings, a neckless, adorned with glistening sapphires which shone under the intense heat. By his side was a sword and on his back, he found a trident. His long, red hair cascaded down his muscular frame. Muscular and big too. He had nothing to compare himself to but he would say he was larger than any normal man had any right to be, more than two meters at the very least. They said they looked in his mind, so who matched that description?
"Dark skin, fiery hair and a trident… no way, am I Ganondorf?"
He felt a sharp pain in his right hand. Looking at the back of it, a golden triangle was tattooed onto it, the tri force of power… he searched his mind and found memories of the Garudo king in his head, fighting stances, political schemes and yes, even magic. He lifted his palm up and concentrated, a pitch black flame sprouted from his palm, it was hot, yet it didn't bother him, in fact, it was mid day, he was wearing armor in the middle of a desert and he didn't feel too hot at all, that must've been the Garudo genes.
Where to go now? Up north, he would surely find the mountains separating Dorne from the other kingdoms, with sky reach, unless he was too far east, in which case he would find the sea, whilst south he would eventually reach the sea. To the west, were mountains again, over which lay starfall or sky reach, depending on where in the desert region he was, whilst east lay most cities. The decision was easy, east it was. Looking at the sun nearing sunset, he knew that he would have to walk the opposite way, for the sun set in the west.
So, he, Ganondorf, began walking due east. As the sun set, he just kept walking, lighting his way with magical flames at his hand. This light attracted sand dogs, wild beasts which devoured those foolish enough to cross the desert, a whole pack of them, six in total, "Good, I was getting hungry anyway", Ganondorf grinned, unsheathing his sword, the steel blade shining under the magical fire's light. He couldn't wield it with both hands, for he needed the fire to see but even one handed, his skill was deadly, as the beasts soon found out. It was sharper than any normal blade. Ganondorf had created this sword himself, forged with magic and steel alike, it could cut through even iron. With one fluid stroke, he decapitated the two sand dogs in front of him. He dodged a lunge from the dog to his right and kicked it with enough force to pulverise its bones. The remaining three dogs were smart and ran but he wouldn't allow that. From the fire in his hand sprang forth lashes of flame which held the dogs, sizzling their flesh as they struggled against it, trying to break free. He gave them a swift death. This was even better than he had imagined. He had worried that he wouldn't inherit Ganondorf's skill but he was pleasantly surprised. He had all Ganondorf's strength, his skill and even his magic. The triforce of power alone made him near invulnerable outside of magic weapons like to master sword and -maybe- valyrian steel blades. As he cooked the dogs, he worked out his game plan. First, find a city, then find out who the reigning king was. If it was Robert, he could easily win a lordship by winning enough tourneys. If it was a targaryen, he could entice them with the promise of magic. The targaryen kings, though hailing from the magical empire of Valyria, had little in regards to magic and -if this was late enough- they would've lost their dragons too. He was sure the promise of magic would entice even the most stoic of Targaryen kings.
Dog tasted gamey, with a lot of fat, which melted on his tongue. It wasn't well prepared, just roasted under his own flames but it filled the stomach. Once he was done eating, he kept following east, in search of a city.