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Ganondorf had never been beyond the mountains separating the desert from the plains. The road between the fortress and the waystation was, if not well-traveled, safe enough for a child in the company of an escort. He’d crossed the bridge leading to the canyon pass a few times, always pausing to peer down through the railings at the great river rushing along the gully below, but this was the first time he was allowed to accompany a caravan through the Gerudo Valley and into Hyrule.
He thought he knew what to expect. He’d heard all manner of stories from travelers, and he was given Hylian books to study as he learned the language. Yet as the red earth and dry gravel gave way to healthy swards of grass, he could not open his eyes wide enough to take it all in. There was so much green, so much luxury.
The climate changed as the caravan traveled east. The mornings were cool but not cold, and the days were warm but not hot. The sun was veiled by clouds that drifted like floating islands across the blue sea of the sky, dappling the light into gentle shadows.
Ganondorf was not prepared for the rain. Everyone took notice when the afternoon became dark and the air grew heavy, but no one seemed concerned. Ganondorf was familiar with the storms that pummeled the open desert, fierce and veined with jagged lightning, and he was afraid of what the blanket of clouds might portend. He was even more afraid of the disdain of the adults, however, so he held his tongue. If he cried when the first drops fell on his skin, each tiny splash as soft as silk, his tears went unremarked.
Vast fields greeted the travelers as they rode east. Brightly colored wildflowers pushed their way through the tall grass on leafy stems, and the wind was fragrant with the sweet smell of growing things. The caravan turned north at the first ranch they encountered, skirting along the low fence marking its perimeter. Ganondorf was amazed to find that the crooked and neglected fenceposts were made of wood. He realized that, to the local farmers, timber must be far more common than stone. As their party joined the main road, the trees grew larger and the flowers became more colorful. The early summer greenery seemed almost blasphemous in its profusion. Stalks of young wheat swayed in the breeze, and cows dotted the rolling plains.
At last, upon ascending the crest of a low hill, Ganondorf saw Hyrule Castle, its spires stretching bravely into the sky. This architectural feat would have been impossible in the desert, where the gale winds would quickly strip the tiles from the towers if lightning didn’t strike them first. The town spilling down from the castle walls was just as marvelous. Roads and houses spread along the wide valley of a river with no regard for how disaster might strike and send the water roiling from its banks at any given change of the weather. Hyrule was, he thought, a miracle.
Once the road approaching the castle town began to grow crowded, one of Ganondorf’s aunts pulled him aside as they watered their horses. “You must dress as we do,” she said. “The people of this kingdom are guided by superstition, and they will not look kindly on someone they cannot fit into the stories they tell themselves. You will be in danger if anyone learns that you are different from us,” she warned him as she twisted his hair into a high ponytail and secured it with a jeweled band.
Taking care not to be noticed, Ganondorf exchanged his robes for loose pants and a sleeveless tunic. He had learned to appreciate being seen as special, but there had always been a part of him that wanted to dress like the girls his age. The thought occurred to him that perhaps it was only in Hyrule that he could be normal. Ganondorf resolved to use this situation to his advantage. He would break off from the group as soon as it was expedient to do so.
The women shed their cloaks in Castle Town as they merged into the throng of people converging in the central market plaza. Zora and Gorons jostled for place among the Hylians in front of the stalls. Ganondorf spotted the leafy foliage of a few Deku Scrubs, and even the broad shoulders of a Moblin. No one paid any mind to the group of Gerudo that gradually split apart as they went their separate ways.
Ganondorf kept his own cloak drawn around his narrow shoulders. The bearded faces of Hylian men were strange to his eyes. He was disturbed by their large and clumsy hands, whose thick fingers sprouted coarse hair. He watched a team of laborers eating at the base of a tree emerging from the paving stones of the plaza. How curious, that they would casually toss their breadcrusts into a bed of flowers. In an alley leading away from the market, a woman emerged from her townhouse to throw water onto the cobblestones before whisking the puddle into a drain with a broom. And then, wonder of wonders, a fountain burbled its lazy jet of water toward the sky with no other purpose than to provide a pleasant breeze for the cat napping on its stone rim.
All of this was fascinating, yet Ganondorf was not satisfied. If the town below the castle was filled with such marvels, he could scarcely imagine what treasures might be contained within the castle itself.
It was not difficult to sneak past the guards posted along the outer wall. They were slow, and he was small. Just to be safe, Ganondorf used his modest measure of magic to quiet his footsteps while shifting the color of his cloak to reflect his surroundings. He had a fair amount of practice evading the watchful eyes of his mothers and aunts, and he liked to think he was skilled at avoiding detection. Or perhaps the soldiers standing at the castle gates simply did not expect anyone to enter. Perhaps they assumed that no one would dare.
The courtyard on the other side of the outer wall was surprisingly pedestrian. Wooden crates had been piled near the servant entrances, and a small moat ran between uneven patches of grass. Ganondorf challenged himself to make his way beyond the castle’s inner wall, but there wasn’t much to be seen here either. A few narrow walkways lined with mossy stones ran in straight lines across the spongy earth, ornamented with nothing but pale statues and overgrown shrubs.
Ganondorf was disappointed. The curving rows of proud cypress trees surrounding the Gerudo fortress and the tiled mosaics glittering under its shaded awnings were much more impressive. Ganondorf kicked the greasy surface of a puddle lingering in the shadow of the castle’s mold-spotted wall. He debated whether to continue on or turn back, wondering if perhaps Hyrule’s beauty lay more in its wilderness than its towns. He decided that he had seen what he’d come to see. There was no need to remain here.
As he turned, Ganondorf caught a breeze carrying a sweet fragrance. Intrigued, he followed the scent along the inner wall of the castle until he found himself at the gate of a secluded courtyard garden.
Tall bushes with glossy leaves separated the garden from the bare stone of the castle walls. Each of the plants bore a profusion of white flowers as large as his palm. The scent was stronger here – richer than jasmine and as fresh as the sky after the rain.
Before he was aware of what he intended to do, Ganondorf found himself slipping his knife from the sheath at his belt to cut the thick woody stem of one of the flowers. Its petals spread elegantly from the golden shimmer of the nectar at its center. He had never seen anything so beautiful, and he wanted to hold it. He sliced through its stem and watched as tiny beads of sap welled from the incision. As he withdrew his hand, clutching the flower alongside his knife, Ganondorf heard the soft murmur of a woman’s voice, quiet but resonant.
“He’s a good man, I think,” the voice said as it grew louder. “My honored mother wouldn’t have chosen him if he weren’t, Hylia rest her soul. He’s kind, and he has a strong will. And that’s the problem; that’s precisely the problem. He will make a good king. But then what need will there be for a queen?”
Ganondorf watched as a young woman stepped into the garden. The deep chestnut of her hair was accented by her dress, which was dyed in an indigo as deep as the sky at twilight. A white-haired woman of the same age trailed along behind her, as silent as a shadow.
“Tensions are mounting at our borders,” the woman continued, “and Hyrule does not need a king. Hyrule needs peace. I will do what I can, yet I worry about the signs in the stars…”
Ganondorf knew he should flee, but the princess was so beautiful in her garden that he couldn’t help but stare. It was like a scene from a fairy tale. He was transfixed.
A moment later the spell was broken, but it was a moment too long. Ganondorf pulled his foot back to retreat, but the princess’s Sheikah attendant was on him like a cat.
“What have we here?” she murmured, her voice as soft as velvet. “Such a pretty girl, with such a sharp blade.” The Sheikah bent his hand so that the bones of his fingers twisted. Ganondorf dropped his knife but managed to hold onto the flower.
“A girl after my own heart,” the princess remarked with laughter in her voice. “Bring her closer, Impa, if you will.”
The Sheikah released Ganondorf, but not before giving his hand another painful squeeze. The warning in her touch was clear. Ganondorf understood that he was trapped, utterly and completely. He waited for panic to rise in his throat, but it never materialized. He realized that he might be forced to remain here, with soft grass under his feet and the delicate scent of white flowers lingering in the air. Perhaps such a fate would not be so terrible.
“On a tour of the castle, were you?” the princess prompted.
“Who sent you?” the Sheikah hissed with narrowed eyes. “Tell us and you might survive.”
The princess raised her hand, and the Sheikah fell back.
“How do you find my castle?” the princess asked as she gestured to the flower in Ganondorf’s hand. “Do the gardenias please you?”
Ganondorf knew that neither force nor speed could extricate him from this situation. Words were the only tools that had any chance of saving him, but his tongue was like lead in his mouth. He was helpless to do anything but gaze at the princess, who seemed to glow in the pale sunlight. His fingers tightened on the flower.
The princess saw this and smiled. “It seems a shame for us to keep all of these gardenias to ourselves,” she remarked, switching to fluent Gerudo. “We can stand to part with one. I hope you will consider it a gift, but take care not to touch it. Its petals will blacken at the slightest contact with your skin. The flowers cannot survive after they’re removed from the plant.”
She began to reach out, perhaps intending to draw Ganondorf’s hood away from his face, but she allowed her hand to drop to her side. “We will release you,” she told him, “but you must not be caught on your way outside the castle. Nothing will protect you should one of the soldiers find you within these walls.”
The princess smiled again, but her eyes were like ice. “There is nothing here to be stolen that cannot be freely given,” she said, “but remember always, child – Hyrule does not take kindly to thieves.”
Ganondorf did not need to be told twice. He turned and ran, bending to snatch his fallen knife from the grass as he fled from the princess and her garden.
He was careful not to touch the gardenia as he made his surreptitious way back outside the castle, but the flower’s petals were already tinged an unhealthy shade of yellow by the time he was able to stop to catch his breath. They had begun to curl at the edges, and their sweet smell had grown sour.
Now there was no reason not to touch the flower. As he crouched against a dirty wall in a back alley of the market, Ganondorf stroked the smooth white petals and touched his nose to the golden center of the blossom. Even as its petals spoiled before his eyes, the gardenia was divine in its beauty.
Ganondorf used his knife to cut away the rest of the wooden stem and tucked the flower into an inner pocket of his tunic. He wanted the fading flower and the memory of the castle garden to be close to his skin. The furious beating of his heart had slowed now that the danger of being caught had passed, but Ganondorf was still haunted by the cold eyes of the princess.
He would have to be more careful next time.