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“I believe that man’s heart holds many dark ambitions,” the woman said. Her voice was quiet, but Ganondorf could hear every word. “Just his name,” she murmured. “Even that… It gives me pause.”
Ganondorf continued his exit from the throne room, unwilling to acknowledge this foolishness, yet he couldn’t help but glance at the reflection mirrored on the polished shield of one of the generals who flanked him. The woman stood beside the seated king, small and slight, but she did not bow her head.
He hadn’t thought much of her at first. A distant relative, the queen had said. It seemed the king didn’t think much of her either. Ganondorf couldn’t imagine the king thought much of anyone. He allowed himself to be seen as a god, and he may have even come to believe it himself.
The man’s arrogance was astounding. Ganondorf had tested its limits, taunting him even as he bent his knee, but the king replied with nothing more than a mild rebuke. Ganondorf did not challenge him further, and thus he earned his run of the castle where he had been welcomed as a guest.
He intended to take full advantage of the king’s hospitality. No matter what the man might say about keeping his enemies close, Ganondorf sensed it would be no great effort to remain beneath notice. This was just as he planned. The queen’s “distant relative,” however, was an entirely different matter. As she stood by the king’s side like a pale shadow, the woman’s eyes slipped away from him like water on oil. Nevertheless, she had spoken her thoughts to the king, knowing full well that her voice would carry.
It was foolish of the king not to take notice of this woman. He would not make the same mistake.
. . .
Everything about Zelda was curious, from her mannerisms to her way of speaking to her endless curiosity. Much of this so-called “Kingdom of Hyrule” was a mystery to Ganondorf, and many of Zelda’s questions echoed his own. He inserted himself into her presence as often as he could, and he observed her closely.
Zelda always maintained her composure, yet sometimes her mask slipped. He followed her gaze as it lingered on the broad shoulders of the castle guards and traced the slim wrists of the serving women. She seemed especially fond of the king’s sister, and especially shy in her presence. Often their hands touched, yet Zelda would always pull away.
“Mineru would not be averse to your attentions,” Ganondorf remarked one evening during a lull in an endless banquet. He deliberately surprised her, hoping to startle her into an unpolished response.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zelda replied, not meeting his eyes.
“I find that difficult to believe. You’ve been watching her across the table all evening.”
Zelda frowned. “It would be inappropriate.”
“There is nothing inappropriate about admiring power. It runs in your family, perhaps.”
“I couldn’t say. If you’ll excuse me.” Zelda rose to her feet and stepped away from the table with the grace of someone long practiced in escaping unwanted conversations. Before she left, however, Ganondorf was rewarded by the ghost of a smile flitting across her features.
. . .
As soon as she laid eyes on him, Zelda knew that this man was the Calamity. He had to be.
Still, what she had experienced under Hyrule Castle happened so quickly, and it seemed such a world away. Here in the past, there was no need to hurry. It was best not to act before she was certain.
Ganondorf was not the only person who had cause to resent Rauru, who had suddenly descended from the sky and declared himself the king of the territories he subsumed under the banner of his kingdom. Many noble families opposed this disruption of their fiefdoms, and one of Queen Sonia’s former suitors seemed particularly outspoken in his anger. The simmering frustration of Sonia’s own brother, who had been stripped of his authority in all but name, was particularly concerning. Despite its gleaming white walls and beautiful green gardens, Hyrule Castle was rife with danger. The men who would oppose the king were not few in number, and every one of them was capable of raising an army.
The chieftain from the desert seemed hostile at first, but he adapted to life in the castle with alacrity. Surely his pride had been wounded as he pledged his fealty to Rauru. His defeat at the king’s hands must have been humiliating, especially as he stood at the head of his people, on his own turf. Zelda could understand Ganondorf’s resentment, just as she could understand how he might feel ill at ease in Hyrule. Nevertheless, his generals mixed freely with the Hylians, apparently eager to find partners among the brave young warriors.
As for Ganondorf himself, he did not go out of his way to be kind, but he distinguished himself in Zelda’s eyes by not treating her as a child. He never laughed at her questions. When she spoke, he listened. He did not treat magic as taboo, as so many in Hyrule did, and he seemed to share her fascination with Zonai technology.
Zelda had thought – no, she had been sure – that this man must be the Calamity. Her memories of the hundred years she passed in Hyrule Castle were dim, like a dream that had long since faded. Still, what she remembered – the boar, the beast, the demon, the malice – this was not Ganondorf. He wore his subordination to the king poorly, but he was not inhuman.
Somewhere, far in the distant future, Link needed her. She had been drawn to this time by a mystical power she scarcely understood, and she did not know how to repair the Sword the Sealed the Darkness. The answers must be here, submerged within the vibrant lifeblood of this era, but it was all so new and strange. Even the writing was foreign, and it would take years simply to learn to read.
In the meantime, she was fascinated by everything she saw. This wasn’t merely the history of Hyrule; it was the very mythology of her kingdom. Everything she had read and studied had come to life around her. The source of all the mysteries she’d fantasized about as a child was here, and she could reach out and touch them with her own fingers.
Zelda crossed paths with Ganondorf on the way to the library more than once. His attempts to study the Zonai language echoed her own. He did not laugh at her questions, nor did he ridicule her mistakes. There was an odd quality to the intensity of Ganondorf’s will that Zelda found disquieting, but she gradually became accustomed to his presence. He was at her side when Sonia and Mineru were not. Both she and he were strangers to this place, minor players in a game of court politics whose rules were constantly changing. Zelda could not bring herself to trust Ganondorf, but he was the closest thing to a compatriot she had.
. . .
It had taken Ganondorf no time at all to find Rauru’s weakness. The king was ever vigilant and highly secretive. The queen, however, radiated kindness. In many ways, she represented the best of her people, an open friendliness and a willingness to share her time with anyone who asked. Ganondorf could not attack the king directly, but the tear-shaped relic of the queen lay within his grasp. All he needed was to catch her off guard. A single moment of distraction would suffice.
Ganondorf had long studied the deep magic of this land, and he was especially skilled in drawing on the darkness of its depths to create phantoms. Zelda would be his masterpiece. He could project her outward appearance easily enough, but a mere shadow would not be enough to achieve his aims. It was necessary to grasp Zelda’s essence. Ganondorf observed her closely - the way she moved, the way she walked, the way she resisted the temptation to lower her eyes when speaking to those of high station.
He watched when she occasionally allowed herself to flirt, dropping the pretense of purity and permitting herself to act her age. She would laugh charmingly and smile from the corner of her mouth, swaying her hips and tilting her shoulders ever so slightly. He saw the woman hidden behind her facade of polite deference, and he resented whomever had forced this porcelain mask onto her face.
Zelda was forged of steel, sharp and straight; and when she bent, she was beautiful. Sonia was a queen, a mate to a king. Should Zelda become queen, she would command armies.
One evening, the ostentatiously handsome son of one of Sonia’s many cousins was roused by wine into an over-ardent demonstration of affection. As his hand lingered on Zelda’s, she wilted under his touch. Ganondorf met her eyes from across the room, smiled, and clenched his fist on the table. She gave a slight smile in return, clenched her own fist, and shook the man away.
Ganondorf nodded in satisfaction. Zelda had power, and it is the duty of those with power to learn to use it. He almost felt guilty for the way he intended to use her, but he refused to demean her with his pity. This woman was dangerous, and it would not be to his advantage to underestimate her.
. . .
Ganondorf was the Calamity.
There was no longer any doubt in Zelda’s mind that this was so. There was something about Ganondorf that was familiar to her, intimately familiar. High in the towers of Hyrule Castle, he held her in his nightmare as she encased him in her dream. They were closer than any two souls could ever fear to be.
The more time Zelda spent in Ganondorf’s presence, the more certain she became. She knew him, and she knew what he intended to do.
The castle gardens were vibrantly green and filled with curious herbs and flowers that Zelda had never seen in Hyrule. Ganondorf seemed perfectly at home in the gentle breeze and soft chatter of birdsong. He had, in fact, been far too well-mannered. Zelda had watched him for long enough to note the subtleties of his features – the merest twitch of his eye, the smallest crease of his brow. She no longer trusted anything he said to or about her ancestors. He would unsheathe his sword, and soon.
She had still not found a way to return to her own time, but perhaps this was for the best. Indeed, perhaps it might be worth lingering a bit longer in this era, Zelda mused as she walked by Ganondorf’s side. He matched his steps to her gait, and she matched her breath to the cadence of his words. They were two strangers to this land, but now he spoke as she spoke, and she moved as he moved. Their thoughts and gestures blended, just as they would again a thousand years in the future.
The prospect of such a future chilled Zelda to her core. She remembered Link, and she remembered how she had loved him – how she would always love him. What Link suffered during the Calamity was unspeakable, and what transpired in its wake was unconscionable. Not only had Link lost his childhood and his family, he lost even his very memories of them. His entire life had been subsumed into her service. Zelda loved him, and she knew she must let him go.
“Do you think,” she said after a pause in the conversation, “that you could ever forgive Hyrule?”
“Forgive Hyrule? For what?”
“For your defeat.”
Ganondorf laughed, but his voice was cold. “The skirmish in the valley is a negligible concern. Such trifling contests of will are an occasional necessity, and their outcome matters little. Let me ask you instead: Could you forgive Hyrule?”
“Could I… For what?”
“Have you never asked yourself… This noble castle, erected so suddenly. With whose labor was it built? The great labyrinths raised at the edges of this land, fashioned to train warriors. For what battles do they polish their skills? And these ‘secret stones,’ secret to no one, flagrant symbols of authority. For whose benefit does the king hoard them, bestowing them only according to his favor?
“With such power, there need be no hardship in this world, nor suffering. There need be no illness or hunger. With such power, what need is there for a Kingdom of Hyrule at all? What need for its soldiers and fortresses and monuments to spread across the land?
“And why should I ask your king for protection, when my people have never before needed defending? Such power the king wields, and he does not wish to share it. Indeed, for the king to share his power would be for him to no longer sit on his throne in his hall filled with swords. Could you forgive Hyrule, Zelda, for engendering inequity under the guise of maintaining peace?”
Zelda did not reply. She had entertained similar thoughts herself, as she had from the first moment that the first piece of Sheikah tech was unearthed from the ground below Hyrule. It was eerie how closely Ganondorf’s mind mirrored her own, even in this lack of faith. Even in treason.
And yet the tragedies of the future need not come to pass. Zelda was frightened, but she would have to try. This was something only she could do.
. . .
“Is it not a king’s duty to ensure the happiness of his people? Perhaps even to ensure his own happiness in so doing?”
Zelda spoke in a soft voice, but she gazed at him with an expression he had learned to recognize as adamantine determination.
Ganondorf understood what she was offering him. It was a gift given in good faith. In her unspoken promise he could indeed see a future of placid happiness. It would be a welcome meeting of minds, and an honorable compromise.
But one compromise would lead to another. More knees would bend, and the king’s arrogance would grow. Ganondorf alone had the power to resist him. He had made his decision to do so long ago, and his window of opportunity would not remain open for long. It would be a denial of his very nature to refuse to fight.
A new complication had arisen, but so be it. He would hate to see Zelda become like Sonia. She would be a fine companion, yet she would make an even finer adversary.
Ganondorf reached for Zelda. She remained still as he traced the curves of her face with his hand, all the while etching her features into his mind. She was a perfect, thin but sharp, an exquisite work of art not unlike the sword he carried at his waist.
“A king’s duty is not to make his people happy,” Ganondorf said, meeting Zelda’s gaze as he swallowed every color of her eyes. “A king’s duty is to become a legend that will live in memory and shape the world to come. A king’s duty is to claim his power; and by this power, a king’s duty is to rule.”
“I see. So you are determined to embrace the fate that awaits you.” Zelda lowered her eyes and brushed away his hand, the warmth of her touch lingering on his skin. “In nurturing your ambitions, take care that you do not lose yourself.” Without further comment, she turned from him and walked away.
. . .
Later that night, the phantom Ganondorf created in Zelda’s image was perfect. He walked as she walked. He moved as she moved. He spoke as she spoke. And yet he could never hope to mirror her heart, or the kindness she offered even as she stood against him. As the torchlight sparkled in the eyes of the thing that was not and could never be Zelda, Ganondorf was pierced by a vicious needle of doubt. He dismissed the mirage with a wave of his hand. If he was to maintain his resolve, he must act quickly.
By this time tomorrow, he would be the enemy of all Hyrule, and he would wield enough power to strike down anyone who opposed him. His success in this battle was not assured, but Ganondorf was prepared to fight it by any means necessary. Whether in victory or defeat, he might indeed lose his grasp on his mind, but of one thing he was certain – he would never lose the ties that bound him to Zelda.