Chapter Text
The Gerudo king smiled. How vindicating it was to have a face that could do that again.
He could feel the princess’s eyes on him as he pried her castle from the ground with thunderous force, the grounds quaking underfoot as they began their ascent. Farther out, beyond the ruins of Castle Town and the old temple, the rest of the kingdom crumbled and roared as wedges of land were torn up by their very roots. The craters they left in their wake were deeper than lakes, wider than cities.
Leagues out, even the desert wasteland of Ganondorf’s childhood was being ripped to pieces, chunks of land surging toward the heavens, sand spilling over the edges and caking the world below in dust. All the while, a blood moon blazed overhead.
It felt good to know Zelda was watching.
He stepped away from the edge of his new island—for what else could it be called?—and crossed the castle grounds, stepping over a brutalized goddess statue and some tattered banners as he approached the princess.
“Let her go,” he said to the Yiga warriors who had been holding her in place. “She has nowhere to run anymore.”
Master Kohga and Sooga gave dutiful nods and released the princess, whom they’d had restrained by the elbows. She collapsed to her knees in an exhausted heap, then peered up at Ganondorf with disdain.
“You don’t deserve the power you wield,” she spat. “The gods didn’t choose you. You stole their power like a thief.”
He smirked. “Your ancestors called me the king of thieves for a reason,” he said coolly. “Perhaps you should have paid more attention in your history lessons.”
“My champion is out there,” Zelda pressed. “He will come for you, and you will pay for the destruction you’ve caused.”
“ Hoooooo boy,” said Master Kohga with a belly laugh. He jerked a thumb in the princess’s direction. “She has no idea how many times you’ve done this before, does she, boss?”
“Silence,” Ganondorf grumbled, his hands clamping into fists. Then he turned to Zelda. “What the Yiga says is true,” he admitted. “The sum of all your heartbeats doesn’t begin to approach the number of times I’ve conquered this worthless land.”
Zelda’s eyes flickered with rage. “If it’s so worthless,” she said, “then why not let us be? Why not let us live in peace?”
“The princess has a point,” said Sooga, his voice sonorous and slow with contemplation. Ganondorf glowered at him.
“Also,” continued Master Kohga, following this new train of thought, “it kind of seems like if you need to keep conquering this land over and over, maybe you’re not very good at it…?”
“Yes,” said Sooga. “Ideally, a single conquest should suffice.”
“Enough of this,” said Ganondorf. “It isn’t my fault that your mortal brains can’t comprehend eternity.” Master Kohga and Sooga nodded, acknowledging the fairness of this statement, but Zelda continued to glare. “Now,” Ganondorf continued, turning to the Yiga, “take the princess to her chambers. See that she is guarded at all times.”
“Yes, your Grace,” they said in unison, and they dragged Zelda into the shadow of the castle.
The island was still rising, but its pace was beginning to slow. A thick, murky fog was settling over the grounds as the castle began to mingle with the clouds. Could Zelda really be serious, thinking her petulant swordsman would be able to reach them here?
Well, she would have to be disappointed. There was no time to dwell on her, anyway, Ganondorf decided. There were more important matters at hand—namely, finding a looking glass and seeing how his freshly resurrected face had turned out. He began walking toward the castle.
“That was an impressive display, your Grace,” said a soft voice to his left. A hooded figure slinked out of the shadow of an arcade and gave a calculated bow. Astor.
“Hm,” said Ganondorf, peering at the cultist and not bothering to point out that this was an understatement. What had the boy expected from the most powerful warlock of all time—parlor tricks? It occurred to him suddenly that he might have just stranded himself on a floating island of idiots. With a scowl, he swatted the thought away and began pacing faster through the courtyard. Astor trotted close behind.
“Can I help you with anything, your Grace?” he said. “A prophecy, perhaps?” He unearthed a dark orb from beneath his cloak.
“If I have need of your psychic powers, I will be certain to summon you,” said Ganondorf as they stepped into the castle. It was very dark inside, the clouds pressing up against the windows and blotting out all the light. Ganondorf waved his hand, and the torches lining the walls sputtered with sudden flame.
“Perhaps I could cast a protective spell over you, or hex your enemies, or—”
“Do you really want to be of use to me?” said the king, stopping short and turning around. He towered over the cultist.
“ Yes, your Grace,” said Astor ardently.
“Go and fetch me a mirror.”
“A—a mirror, your Grace,” Astor stuttered. “For what purpose?”
“That is none of your concern,” said Ganondorf. Astor didn’t need to know the messy details of resurrection, or that the Gerudo king needed to make sure all of his body parts were in the right places, starting with his nose. He recalled being quite proud of its prominence, though admittedly the eons spent decomposing in an ancient cavern had rendered his memory somewhat foggy.
“Very well, your Grace,” said Astor, putting away the orb with apparent embarrassment. He gave another fluid bow and vanished down a blackened corridor. Ganondorf watched him go with a nagging feeling that he should have sent him on more of a goose chase; a mirror was likely to be rapidly acquired, and then Astor would be back, looking for more attention like a bored puppy.
The corridor alighted suddenly with blinding crimson light—the castle had broken through the cloud barrier. With nothing to hinder it, the light of the blood moon came streaming in so suddenly, so ferociously, that Ganondorf squinted and covered his eyes with a forearm. Slowly, his eyes adjusted, and he watched the patches of red light dance across the corridor as the castle continued to spin and glide through the air, until eventually they slowed and then finally stopped, and everything was still. The castle had reached its final altitude.
He released a triumphant sigh and walked over to the closest window. Outside, there was nothing but an ocean of murky clouds. No birds, no insects—nothing at all. Just red, bloody sky.
Nothing could reach him here.
He admired the view for a long time, lost in thought, until eventually the bloody hue of the moon ebbed into a soft, blushing pink, and then ultimately to its more natural pearly state. The clouds, an infinite silver lake, reflected the color back up toward the skies. In the distance, the first hint of twilight was visible, a thin beam of pale turquoise. Even Ganondorf was not impervious to its beauty.
He took a deep breath of the cold, crisp air—lungs! What a joy just to have working lungs!—and turned back toward the inside of the castle corridor. Then, he heard an odd sound. He paused to listen. It happened again, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement.
On a shelf just down the hall was a vase. And it was wobbling.
He approached the vase cautiously, scrutinizing it. It was still for a long moment, and then it wobbled again, as though something was trapped inside and trying to break out. A rodent, he thought with some irritation. He took the vase from the shelf, and just as he peered into the opening to see what was inside, a humanoid head popped out and beheld him with unblinking, incandescent eyes.
He gave a howl and dropped the vase. It shattered, and a little cucco-like creature balked with surprise, took stock of its sudden freedom, and—with a nod of apparent gratitude in Ganondorf’s direction—shook out its feathers and started to waddle away.
What. Was. That?!
“Here!” said Master Kohga, showing Zelda the door to a small bedroom. “This is your room.”
“This isn’t my room,” said Zelda irritably. “My chambers are in the west wing.”
“Those are your old chambers,” said Sooga. “His Grace has instructed us to hold you here.”
The room was small, with a single window looking out over the clouds and nothing but a small cot for comfort. Comfort being used liberally in this case.
Zelda rounded on Kohga and Sooga. “Tell your master that unless he wants me to jump out this window and into the clouds, he will let me have free roam of the castle. That includes access to my former chambers, as well as the grounds and the library.”
She could not see their faces behind the Yiga masks, but could only assume from their silence that they were blinking stupidly.
“Ah—well—little problem with that,” said Kohga. “Y’see, we can’t just tell him stuff like that…”
“We would meet a swift death,” said Sooga.
“Oh, swift at best,” said Kohga. “More likely it would be a slow, painful, crude, torturous death.”
“I see,” said Zelda. “You certainly have made a shrewd choice of leader.”
“Thank you,” said Kohga.
“I think,” said Sooga in a less-than-certain tone, “that the princess is being sarcastic.”
Kohga paused. “Oh.” He crossed his arms with a humph . “Well! I’m sorry your kingdom is being torn to bits, but what can I say? Don’t kill the messenger just because you’re having a bad day!” He raised his hands and spread his stubby fingers wide in mock surrender. “If I were you, I’d think twice before complaining about this room! Sooga and I don’t even get our own rooms! We’re being forced to share a bed!”
“We’re taking turns,” Sooga clarified. “Just for the record.”
“My message,” said Zelda, closing her hand into a fist. A sinister golden glow filled the small room, and she imagined a pair of slack-jawed expressions behind the masks. “You will deliver it to the king. Unless you would rather I cripple you here and now, and deliver the message myself?”
Kohga and Sooga faced each other.
“Did you know she had magic powers?” said Kohga.
Sooga was silent. Then, he turned to Zelda. “We will deliver your message,” he said.
“Good,” said Zelda. She lowered her hand, and the golden light faded until the room was dark again. She pointed toward the window. “Do you see that sky?” she said. “If I am not freed from this room by the next sunset, I will jump. And I think you will face a much worse fate if I vanish, seeing as you were charged with guarding me.”
The two Yiga gulped.
“Yes, your Highness,” they stuttered, and they vanished suddenly with a poof of smoke.
They had forgotten to shut the door.
Astor slammed the desk drawer shut with rage. That was twenty-one rooms he’d already checked, and still no sign of a mirror. He’d searched high and low, tearing through dresser drawers and chests and checking inside wardrobes. He’d even looked under the beds. Nothing.
This was stupid. Why was he wasting time like this? He reached into his robes and withdrew the orb. It glowed menacingly in the moonlight. With a sigh, he sat cross-legged on the carpet and placed it in his lap.
“Show me,” he murmured softly. “Show me where to find a mirror in this wretched fortress.”
A vision came to him, murky at first, but slowly clearing up the way sediment drifts to the bottom of a lake after a storm. He could see the outline of the mirror, its gilded edges, the royal family’s crest adorning the top. In the glass, his own face was reflected back at him. Yes— yes— the vision was so close, nearly perfect—but where was he? What room was this? In the background of his reflection, he could see stone walls and a tapestry—yes, that tapestry could be the key—but what was the image on the tapestry—?
“ASTOR!” someone bellowed, and the vision dissipated. He turned around to see Kohga and Sooga lumbering into the room.
“You buffoons,” he snapped. “What is it?”
Kohga was bowed over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath, so Sooga filled Astor in on Zelda’s message.
“She threatened to jump?” said Astor. “And you believed her?”
“Not necessarily,” said Sooga. “But she was prepared to use her powers to break free. The princess is stronger than we thought.”
“And what do you expect me to do about it?” said Astor.
“Can’t you find out if she’s lying?” said Kohga, waving a hand in the direction of the orb.
“I am a seer,” said Astor, “not a mind-reader.”
“So why don’t you see if she’s going to jump out a window?” Kohga pressed. He was still out of breath.
“I would like to see you leave me alone,” said Astor. “As things stand, I am already on a very important mission for his Grace.”
“To do what?” said Sooga.
Astor stopped short. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he said, and turned away, hunching over the orb again. “I’m sorry you’re having such difficulty with the princess, but to be frank, I don’t know why you’re so surprised. She was powerful enough to defeat the Calamity. Did you really think she was going to surrender to the two of you?”
Sooga turned to Kohga. “The seer has a point.”
“Would you stop agreeing with everybody all the time?!” Kohga wailed. He pointed a finger at Astor. “When we lose the princess and the king goes berserk, you’ll be sorry you didn’t help us stop her!”
“I’ll take my chances,” said Astor stiffly. “Now, off with you.”
Kohga harrumphed, then turned to Sooga. “Come on,” he said, as though either of them had a choice. They cantered out with their shoulders bowed.
Finally, Astor thought, turning back to the orb. He could feel a great sense of purpose welling up within him again—yes, anything for his king. He would find the mirror—surely it would serve some great purpose, yes? For a moment, he allowed himself to manifest a future where he was seated at the king’s right hand, his most loyal servant, the one he called on when he was most in need…
He summoned the vision again, and there was the tapestry, clear as anything. It had a crimson bird embroidered on it in beautiful, vivid color. Yes. He released the vision, put away his orb, and stood. Now, to find the tapestry. He stepped out into the hall.
Right away, he saw them: twenty such tapestries lining the hall in both directions. All identical.
“Oh, curse it all!” he shouted, and kicked a wall. Unbearable pain seared through his foot as he grabbed his toe with a grimace. Then he hobbled down the hall, turned a corner, and there, sitting on a tabletop plain as day, was the mirror from his vision.
Zelda stepped into the library. It was empty, to her relief. She crept along the bookshelves until she found a certain brick, then put the weight of her palm against it. There was a muffled click behind a nearby bookcase. She lugged it toward her to reveal a passageway, then stepped inside and pulled the case back into place.
It was dark in the passage. She whispered an incantation— Raurulos— then stepped forward, a sphere of golden light bobbing alongside her. As a little girl, she’d traversed these passageways when she was trying to avoid her tutors or, at times, her father. On those days when his cold, stoic demeanor had left her in tears, she’d often come here to calm down. Now, with the advantages of maturity and hindsight, she couldn’t deny that she missed even his worst tempers.
She reached the other end of the passageway, where there was a trap door, and opened it onto a moonwashed roof. It was abandoned. She climbed out into the cold night air and shut the door silently behind her, then crawled over toward the parapet. It overlooked a garden.
For a little while, she looked at the shrubs and the flowers and the little fountain down below, and fought the urge to cry. For the first time since Calamity Ganon had struck one hundred years ago, she felt defeated. After all Link had done to defeat that evil—for it to come back, and to come to this—it felt impossible, and so dismal. How had she failed her kingdom again?
Her thoughts were interrupted as she saw a little cucco come waddling out into the garden. How had it survived Ganondorf’s attack? she wondered. It must be very, very confused. She almost pitied the poor creature, doomed to live the rest of its pointless life up here above the clouds. Perhaps somebody would at least cook it, to get some use out of it.
What happened next surprised her even further. Into the garden came Ganondorf himself, stalking the cucco with an air of undeniable curiosity. Didn’t he have some evil plotting to do? Why was he so fascinated by common fowl? Surely, having been around for all of eternity, this wasn’t his first interaction with such a creature.
Zelda ducked lower, and watched.
“Your Grace!” she heard a distant voice say, and a thin man in a hood came limping into the garden. “Your Grace—”
“Shh,” said the king. The man stopped beside him, gasping for breath. “Look.” Ganondorf pointed in the direction of the cucco.
“A cucco, your Grace?” said the man.
“No, Astor,” said Ganondorf. “Look closer. It’s something else entirely.”
Zelda focused on the cucco. It was tough to tell in the dark, and yet she couldn’t help but agree—this was something else. It didn’t have the exact shape of a cucco, and its head was terribly human.
“Ah,” said Astor. “An abomination, your Grace, wouldn’t you say?”
“Perhaps,” said Ganondorf. “But perhaps not. Anyway—” he turned to Astor—“did you find it?”
“The mirror?” said Astor loudly.
“Shhhh,” said the king again. “Yes,” he murmured. “ That.”
“It’s here, your Grace.” Astor procured a glittering mirror from his cloak, and Zelda felt a pang of anger. That had been her mother’s looking glass. What unspeakable evil could Ganondorf possibly need it for? She watched him tuck it into his belt by the handle.
“Excellent,” said Ganondorf.
“Perhaps you could use something further, your Grace?” said Astor. “A prophecy—a hex—?”
“Yes, we’ve been over this,” said Ganondorf irritably. “Why don’t you monitor this— thing— ” he said, gesturing toward the cucco-like creature, “and make sure it doesn’t do anything to foil my plans.”
“Oh—erm—for how long, your Grace?” asked Astor. He sounded disappointed.
“Until it flies away, I suppose,” said Ganondorf. Zelda felt some vague pity for this Astor. Clearly, the Gerudo king wished to dispose of him.
“Very well, your Grace,” said Astor softly. “I will do that for you.”
“Splendid,” Ganondorf grunted. The creature crossed the garden toward Zelda, and at first, she watched it with mild curiosity as it got closer. Then, when it reached the edge of the wall, it hopped up and began scaling the vertical surface as casually as though it were walking across the floor.
Drat, Zelda thought, and she crawled back toward the trap door. She gave it a tug, and then realized with a jolt that it was locked shut. Oh, no. She crawled toward the other side of the roof to find that there was no garden on the other side—only endless clouds.
Oh, no. Oh, no. Where would she go now?
“Well?” she could hear Ganondorf say to Astor. “Aren’t you going to pursue it?”
“Yes, your Grace,” said Astor, and she heard him pace in her direction. At the same time, she could hear more hurried footsteps coming toward the garden from inside the castle.
“Your Grace!” someone shouted. It was Master Kohga. Zelda’s heartbeat quickened. Astor was at the base of the wall now.
“What? What is it now?” said Ganondorf. “I have something— important —to attend to.”
“Um—well—” Kohga was stuttering. “Oh, you tell him,” he said, presumably to Sooga.
“We have a message from the princess,” said Sooga.
“A message,” Ganondorf echoed. “What could she possibly have to say?”
“Your turn,” Zelda heard Sooga say, presumably to Kohga.
What Kohga said next, she didn’t hear, because at that moment, the little creature came waddling over the parapet, and her chest tightened with fear. It was terrible—a little human-cucco hybrid creature, a frightening sight to behold, with glowing eyes, an oblong cranium, and a human face devoid of expression. It fixed her with its soulless gaze.
“WHAT?!” she heard Ganondorf thunder down below. “She will regret her insolence. Take me to her chambers at once.”
She heard a rustling sound closeby, and realized with horror that there was a vine growing up the castle wall from the garden to the roof where she was hiding. She could see the vines tightening as somebody pulled on them—no—as somebody climbed them. Astor. The rustling got louder as Astor got closer, and her heart beat faster and faster until she felt she was choking—his gloved hand snaked over the parapet, and then his face rose into view like the sun—they locked eyes, and his mouth fell open with recognition—
What happened next, she would never come to truly understand. There was a distorted chattering sound, and then the little creature began to orbit her, faster and faster until it seemed to be in a hundred places at once, and then there was a blinding flash—she screwed her eyes shut and gasped—
When she opened her eyes again, she was somewhere else entirely.