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“I enjoy the new face you made for me, Master.”
“I’m trying to concentrate,” snapped Ganondorf to his phantom.
“Apologies, Master. I merely wanted to thank you.”
“It was not for you,” said Ganondorf. “It was a test.”
A test that had, in Ganondorf’s estimations, succeeded tremendously. The creature (could he really call it that anymore?) observing his work had started out as little more than a pile of sludge, born from monster parts and magic, barely capable of movement. With much time, research and effort, Ganondorf had been able to empower it, shape it into more and more complex forms, and grant it some level of autonomy to interpret how best to fulfill Ganondorf’s orders. In the past few months, he been able to give it a human form (though perhaps more corpse than man) and even taught it to wield various weapons.
And now his latest accomplishment: he had learned to give his phantom his own face, and, though he was slightly regretting the second, his own voice.
His mind swam with possibilities: he could send the phantom to attend Rauru’s banal tea parties, or to take his place when his mothers wished to lecture him. Truthfully, however, the creation of his copy had one primary purpose: to test if he could create a puppet shaped like an existing person. And now he would make a second.
“Why her, Master?” asked Ganon (he had taken to calling his phantom Ganon to differentiate him from himself). “Surely the king or queen would be better?”
Ganondorf had thought of mimicking Rauru or Sonia originally; he assumed this was why Ganon was suggesting the idea. But the more he thought about it, the more he was certain: no, it had to be her.
“Rauru and Sonia are too often surrounded by others. She is always alone. We need someone close to the king, but who is often overlooked. If Zelda is seen behaving oddly, it is less likely to be noticed.”
Ganon hummed in understanding. (Ganondorf wondered, not for the first time, how sentient he truly was.)
“I do not know why they underestimate her,” Ganondorf said quietly to himself. “She plays the unimportant cousin, but it is obviously a lie. We will have to be careful; she is extremely dangerous.”
“I see,” said Ganon, then, “You’ve always had an affinity for dangerous things.”
“You are supposed to be me,” Ganondorf said shortly. “And I don’t talk nearly this much.”
“I trust you immensely, Master. If there was someone you trusted, you would –”
“I will remove your tongue,” Ganondorf threatened, and the phantom fell silent.
***
The first puppet was a complete and utter failure. As was the second, and the third.
By the twelfth attempt, his creation was beginning to look at least a little like Zelda. Or like a blond woman, at any rate.
Her hair is a shade darker.
Her eyes have a hint of green in them.
Her tattoos are a bit lower.
Her ears are slightly longer.
He studied her incessantly. His puppet would be perfect; not a soul would be able to tell her apart from the true Zelda. And that meant Ganondorf had to capture everything.
The way she would sit on the very edge of her chair at the tea parties, one knee bouncing slightly as though she too was eager to leave. The way she would bite her lip when she was deep in thought, reading in the library or working with the king’s sister. The way her eyes would light up like the sun on the rare occasions that she smiled. And she way they would burn with fire whenever she noticed Ganondorf watching her.
(A shiver would run down his spine as he smirked back at her. She was dangerous, of that he had no doubt.)
It took weeks to make a puppet that might have passed as her. And even more before Ganondorf was close to satisfied.
Now he stood before his latest attempt, arms crossed. She looked like Zelda, certainly, but something was not quite right. He sighed.
“She’s lovely, Master,” said his phantom, who often watched Ganondorf work with interest.
Ganondorf shook his head. “Zelda’s nose doesn’t look like that,” he announced, and with a wave of his arm the puppet disintegrated and he started again.
And again.
Her hair is straighter than that. Again. Not that straight. Again. Her fingers are longer. Again. Her eyebrows are lighter.
And then…
“You’ve outdone yourself, Master,” breathed Ganon.
Ganondorf frowned, contemplating. She was close, as close as he had gotten by far, but there had to be something he was still missing. The real Zelda was so… so much more.
“Truly, Master,” Ganon continued, and Ganondorf turned to see his phantom staring at the puppet Zelda with widened eyes. “She is beautiful…”
“There is no need to flatter me,” said Ganondorf dryly. He shook his head. “Something’s wrong.”
“She’ll fool everyone. She’s perfect.”
Ganondorf rolled his eyes. “You’ve never even met the person she’s mimicking.” Still, he turned back to the puppet, who was standing stiffly forward, eyes closed and unmoving. He stepped forward, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Awaken,” he said softly.
Her eyes blinked open (the right shade of blue, he noted, but Zelda’s eyes were so much fuller, so much deeper). She looked around briefly, before bowing her head.
“What are my orders, Master?”
The words made his skin crawl, and the sight of her waiting submissively filled him with such wrongness that he nearly destroyed the puppet on the spot. Then he caught himself. He cleared his throat.
“You know Zelda?”
“Yes, Master,” said the Puppet Zelda. “You created me to be a perfect copy of her, to aid in your search of this castle. I know her mannerisms well.”
“Well, let’s put that to the test, shall we?” He gestured towards Ganon, beckoning the phantom closer. “We’ll start small,” he said to both of his creations. “Begin moving around the castle,” he instructed Zelda. “Let yourself be seen – but not by anyone of importance. We’ll see if you draw any suspicion.”
“Yes, Master,” said Zelda with a nod.
Ganondorf swallowed uncomfortably. “And don’t… don’t call me that.”
Zelda blinked. “Yes… King Ganondorf?”
“That is fine.” He turned now to Ganon. “Assist her as needed. She may need help getting her bearings straight while she is still so newly made.”
“Yes, Master,” said Ganon, though his gaze was still on Puppet Zelda. Was it odd for him, Ganondorf wondered, to meet another creation of his nature?
“Then I will leave you both to your work,” Ganondorf said with a scowl. “Rauru’s having another tea party.”
***
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned. His puppet Zelda did as he had requested, and had been witnessed walking around by several of the castle staff. She had even had a short conversation with a serving boy, who had seemed none the wiser that he was speaking to a puppet that had been created only days ago.
This castle is full of fools, Ganondorf thought. They treat her as the king’s revered relative, but they do not know her at all, not as I do. Or they would know that she is all wrong.
Next he would have her try someone closer to Zelda, the king’s sister or Zelda’s maid. And then he would know that he had succeeded.
Then he began to hear the whispers.
Our Lady Zelda seems to have gotten very close to the Gerudo King.
I heard the cook saw them holding hands.
I heard the stablemaster saw them kissing.
“What is this?” Ganondorf muttered to himself angrily. “Complete nonsense! We would never…”
There could only be one reason such outrageous lies were being spread. He was not the only one in this castle who was plotting.
He marched through the hallways, cloak billowing behind him. She was precisely where he suspected she’d be – curled up in a large armchair in her favourite corner of the library with a book in her lap. Thankfully she was alone; the king’s sister must have been busy today.
“Zelda,” he hissed, putting on his most vicious glare. “What are you playing at?”
She slowly closed the book, then put it on the table beside her chair. “King Ganondorf,” she said dryly as she stood. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He crossed his arms. “You know exactly why I’m here.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
He huffed, leaning in until his face was inches from hers. “Lies aren’t a good look on you, Lady,” he murmured. “Here or elsewhere.”
“King Ganondorf,” she said, with her hands on her hips. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He narrowed his eyes, studying her. She was lying, surely. Though there was a glint of confusion in her brilliant blue eyes that he thought would be very hard to fake.
“I was in the middle of something,” she continued. “So if you aren’t going to explain yourself, please leave me be.”
If she was not lying, then he would not be the one to tell her of the rumours. Even the thought of her hearing them had him mortified. He swallowed uncomfortably, leaning back slightly.
“Good book?” he asked.
She blinked. “Er… yes, I suppose.”
“Well then.” He cleared his throat. “I will let you read, Lady Zelda.”
“Thank you,” she said, bemused.
“Farewell,” he muttered.
His mind raced as he walked away. Was she lying? She hadn’t seemed to be, but he thought she had to be a good liar with how she had convinced the whole castle that she was Sonia’s unimportant cousin. And yet if she was not lying, than what was the source of these rumours?
Could Rauru have done this? He dismissed the thought immediately. Even if it were for a trick, he would never allow anyone to think that someone like me could be with his precious little niece. Sonia he thought even less likely.
A headache was beginning to tug at his temple. I cannot deal with this right now, he thought, beginning to head back to his own chambers. He would take a nap, or maybe a warm bath. Yes, that sounded very appealing at the moment.
As he approached his room, something made him hesitate before opening his door. Was it his imagination, or were their voices coming from inside? He pressed his ear to the slot between the wall and the wooden door, and there it was: faint whispering. And one of the voices sounded awfully familiar.
That little liar. Spreading rumours and now entering my room. It was nearly impressive. He would show her, he thought, opening the door silently so as to see what exactly she was doing.
The sight that greeted him made him pause in his tracks.
Zelda was there.
And so was he. Sitting in the armchair next to his bed, with Zelda in his lap. Gazing into her eyes with a dopey smile on his face.
What.
Zelda ran a finger over the other him’s arm before leaning up to whisper in his ear, and that was when Ganondorf realized: that was not her (obviously it was not her). And it was not him either.
His puppet Zelda leaned in as though to kiss his phantom, and Ganondorf slammed the door closed.
Both puppets jumped, turning to look at him.
“What,” he said quietly, “is going on here?”
“Hello, Master,” said Ganon (Ganondorf noticed, to his extreme displeasure, that his hair appeared to be very disheveled). He gave Ganondorf a smile. “We didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”
Ganondorf took a deep breath (this was not helping his burgeoning headache). To Puppet Zelda, he said, “Get out.” She nodded quickly, disappearing with a flash. Ganondorf then turned his attention to Ganon, who was still smiling.
“Explain yourself.”
Ganon sighed dreamily. “We’re in love.”
Ganondorf scowled. “You are… in love,” he repeated slowly.
“Yes, Master.”
“Well, stop.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t.”
“No, Master.” Ganon sighed again. “From the moment I saw her, I knew… I’ll love her forever.”
Ganondorf stared. Something went extremely wrong when I created this one.
“You are a phantom created to fulfill my bidding and aid in my fight against Hyrule. You were not made to fall in love.”
“I know, Master,” said Ganon, standing. “But I am made of you and hold all your feelings.”
“Speak plainly.”
A slight smirk came to Ganon’s lips (was that really what Ganondorf looked like when he did that?). “Why was it her you needed to mimic? I believe I understand now.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” hissed Ganondorf.
“You watch her constantly, think of her even more. Don’t you, Master?”
“Yes,” said Ganondorf shortly. “Because she is a threat.”
“That is what you tell yourself, I believe.”
Ganondorf shook his head. “I don’t have time for this. Just – Leave me. And stay away from her.”
Ganon vanished without responding. Ganondorf collapsed onto his bed, cursing idiot puppets and strange blonde Hylians.
***
He spent the entirety of the next tea party glaring at Zelda. She was dangerous, more dangerous than Rauru, he knew it with certainty. That was the only reason he paid her attention.
“Ganondorf has been very quiet today,” Rauru said amicably. “Everything alright, my friend?”
“Oh yes,” he purred, still looking at Zelda, who was holding his gaze. “Everything is delicious as usual, Your Majesty.”
“How wonderful,” said Rauru. “Care to join me for a hunt this afternoon? A giant boar was spotted outside of the forest.”
“What a generous offer,” Ganondorf said (he imagined wringing the Zonai’s neck). “But I’m terribly busy, I’m afraid.”
Sonia sniffed. “Another hunt, husband?”
“You’ll take care of things here, won’t you, dear wife?”
“Of course, dear,” said Sonia in a bright tone that sounded entirely insincere.
“What would I do without her?” Rauru chuckled. “The whole kingdom would fall apart, I’m sure!”
Ganondorf laughed politely. How I despise these people.
It almost made him wish he had sent Ganon in his place.
Finally Rauru excused himself, wanting to prepare for his hunt, and Sonia quickly followed. Only Zelda hung around, finishing her tea.
“Is there something wrong, King Ganondorf?” asked Zelda.
“Excuse me?”
“You were staring at me that entire time.”
Ganondorf shrugged. “You have cake on your face,” he said, and when she blushed, his irritated heart felt just a bit lighter.
***
He decided to take a stroll before returning to the castle. He may have disliked most of this country, but even he had to admit the gardens were exquisite. Often, when he was feeling especially irritated by Rauru, he would come to one specific bench, hidden away in the back where few people ventured, and sit by himself until he was sure he could interact with the Zonai king again without maiming him.
Now he came to his favourite bench and found that he was not alone.
For behind the bench, completely oblivious to his presence, were his puppets. Zelda lay on her back in the grass, arms wrapped around Ganon’s neck while he propped himself above her. They were kissing passionately.
Scowling, Ganondorf reached for Ganon’s neck and pulled him off. The phantom blinked at him, dazed. Zelda also appeared dazed; to Ganondorf’s horror, he noticed that her dress was hitched rather highly up her leg.
“What part of ‘stay away from her’ was unclear to you?” he snarled at Ganon.
“I can’t stay away, Master,” Ganon said. “I love her.”
“Don’t be angry at Ganon, King Ganondorf,” cried the Zelda puppet. “He tried to stay away but I wouldn’t let him. Because I love him too!”
Ganon smiled warmly at her, which she returned.
Ganondorf exhaled slowly. “Please leave, Zelda,” he said.
“Yes, King Ganondorf,” she said, then disappeared, and Ganondorf was left with Ganon.
He crossed his arms. “What am I to do with you?” he asked quietly.
Ganon straightened. “I don’t regret it,” he said defiantly.
“You were created to obey me. What use do I have for a puppet who does not obey?”
“I have wondered this myself, Master,” said Ganon. “And I think that you are wrong.”
“What.”
“I was created to help you.” Ganon put his hand to his chin, thinking. “Does my love for Zelda help you?”
“Obviously not!”
“I believe I feel this way to open your eyes, Master. You keep your feelings deep inside because you are scared. But I was not made to feel fear.”
“And what feelings do you think I am hiding?”
“You are lonely, Master. You’ve been away from your home for months now, and your main companion here is a copy of yourself. And you do not watch Zelda only because you distrust her. You admire her. You’re falling in lo–”
“I’ve heard enough of this,” Ganondorf hissed, taking a step forward.
Then he raised his hand, and with a rush of magic, took his phantom’s face, reverting him to what he had been before. Some similarities to Ganondorf, perhaps, with his red hair and tall stature, but his face was that of a corpse. A monster.
“Will she love you still, I wonder?” he asked cruelly.
Ganon merely smirked. “Denial,” he rasped.
Ganondorf took his voice too.
***
Ganon’s words, however, would not leave him. They echoed in his mind day and night, no matter how often he told himself that they were not true. He was not lonely (anyone would be a little homesick after so long in this place) and he most definitely did not have feelings for Zelda (she was a threat to his planning, that was all).
He proved it to himself by avoiding her, throwing himself headfirst into his plans, though even that had lost its luster. His phantom Ganon had been reduced to silent monstrous observer, and Ganondorf was finding out how much he missed having the creature to bounce ideas off of (even if their opinions were always ultimately the same). His puppet Zelda continued to perform excellently and obey his every order, but she was sullen and withdrawn, and would not meet his eyes.
Now he sat at a table after another bland tea party, finishing his tea while Rauru and Sonia had already departed, bickering about Rauru leaving Sonia in charge once again while he went on a hike. Ganondorf had been very proud of himself for both resisting the urge to slap the king, and for not looking at Zelda once during their entire meal. The feeling, however, was short lived, and he scowled into his cup.
“You’ve been acting strangely.”
He whipped his head to the side, where Zelda sat with her arms crossed. He’d assumed she’d left with the king and queen.
“First you stare at me incessantly. Now you won’t look at me at all.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re planning something.”
“Careful, Lady Zelda,” Ganondorf said softly. “I’m King Rauru’s favoured ally. He won’t like these accusations.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. We both know you can’t stand him.”
He chuckled despite himself. Then, because he could not help it: “Have you heard the rumours?”
“What rumours? This place is abound with rumours. Everyone here is a gossip, with Rauru being the worst.” She giggled, the suspicion falling from her face. “Why, now they’re saying I’m wandering around at night with a Redead.”
Ganondorf’s heart skipped. “What.”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” She shook her head, still laughing. “No, King Ganondorf, whatever you’ve heard is probably the invention of someone with too much time on their hands.”
“Right,” Ganondorf said. “Ridiculous.” Abruptly, he stood. “Excuse me, my lady. I have somewhere I need to be.”
***
He found them precisely where he suspected: at his bench, in his favoured garden spot. His puppet Zelda was leaning against Ganon’s shoulder, hand interlaced in his while she whispered to him. He let out a rasping moan in return.
They both looked up as Ganondorf approached. Ganon’s red eyes widened, though he did not move away from Zelda, nor she from him.
“You really don’t give up, do you.”
Ganon slowly shook his head.
Ganondorf sighed. “Leave, Zelda,” he said, once again.
She stood. And then she said, “No.”
Ganondorf rose an eyebrow.
“No,” she repeated. “King Ganondorf! I need to speak to you!”
I really did capture the fire in her eyes.
“Speak, then.”
“King Ganondorf, please give Ganon his voice back!”
“Why would I do that, when he does nothing but disobey?”
“I also disobey,” said Zelda. “And you don’t punish me! It isn’t fair!”
Ganon moaned, perhaps urging her to stop.
“You won’t punish me,” she continued. “Because I look like Zelda, and the thought of hurting her makes you uncomfortable. You have no problem hurting yourself.”
Why must these puppets keep analysing me?
“But I want this as much as Ganon. So punish me too, or give him back his voice!”
“His voice,” Ganondorf said. “That’s all you want?”
“I don’t care if he looks like a monster! I just want to hear him again!” She turned to look at Ganon, who was still sitting on the bench. His decaying lips pulled themselves into a lopsided smile.
Ganondorf exhaled slowly. “You are meant to be a copy of the true Zelda,” he said. “She would not behave in this manner.”
“I don’t know her heart,” said Zelda. “But I know my own, and I love Ganon!”
You don’t have a heart, thought Ganondorf. I don’t know if you even truly think, or if somehow it was me who caused this.
But she had turned back to him, and she looked so like Zelda, and her eyes were wide and pleading and shining with what looked like real emotion, and something like guilt began to crawl down Ganondorf’s spine.
“Fine,” he said shortly. “Fine.”
He waved his hand, and Ganon’s voice returned, among other things. He looked at his restored hands (complete with black nails), then touched his cheeks and his beard in wonder.
“Thank you, Master,” he said. “I like this face much better.”
Zelda let out a sob and fell into his arms, and he took her by the cheeks and touched his forehead to hers.
“There are conditions,” said Ganondorf sternly, watching the puppets uncomfortably. They both nodded, turning to look at him.
“This… this… relationship… will not distract from your purpose. When I need you to do something, you will do it.”
“Of course, King Ganondorf.”
“And you will be more careful. You will not let anyone see you. You will not act like this if anyone else is in the vicinity.”
“That’s fine, Master,” said Ganon. “We’re both very private. We’ve already decided we want a small wedding.”
Puppet weddings. I cannot handle this. Ganondorf rubbed at his forehead, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“How did this happen, anyway?” he asked, somewhat dreading the answer.
“I told you, Master,” said Ganon, a little warily. “Your own feelings –”
“No, I meant… how did you… when did this start?”
“Oh! Well, I brought Zelda flowers.”
“They were lovely,” said Zelda, beaming.
“And then I took her out to dinner.”
“You went out for dinner,” Ganondorf repeated.
“We can’t actually eat,” said Zelda. “But the smell is nice.”
***
Ganondorf paced outside the true Zelda’s door, bouquet of flowers in hand. He had assorted a collection of his favourites, specifically sent to him from Gerudo Town, and enchanted to survive the long trip. He held his hand up to her door.
I cannot do this.
A puppet did this, he told himself. You can do this.
Then he knocked.
Perhaps she’s not here, he thought hopefully, but a moment later the door swung open and Zelda appeared. She stared down at the flowers in his hand, confused.
“King Ganondorf?”
“These are… for you,” he said, holding them out to her.
She blinked. “You’re giving me flowers.”
“Yes,” said Ganondorf. “And I would enjoy it if you would… dine with me tonight.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” said Ganondorf. “At least, not right now.”
She looked down at the flowers, then back to him. Then she shrugged. “Yes, alright.”
“You will?”
Truly he had not expected her to agree.
“Yes,” said Zelda. “After all, I have something to discuss with you.” She rested the hand currently not holding flowers on her hip. “Why is it that I saw you and me in the gardens last night?”
His blood ran cold. “What?”
“We were laying together in some grass, cuddling.”
No.
“I went to confront you –”
“You confronted us?” asked Ganondorf with dread.
“– And you jumped to your feet in a panic and said, ‘We’ll hide in the gap between dimensions!’ Then you grabbed the other me’s hand and disappeared.”
I’ll fucking kill him.
“…That wasn’t me,” said Ganondorf lamely.
Even to him it sounded like a lie.
“Obviously it wasn’t!” cried Zelda (Ganondorf startled). “You might have said something that corny, but everything else was all wrong! Your hair isn’t that bright of red. And your nose is a bit longer. You were wearing the wrong number of rings, and your eyes are more –”
She cut herself off, face pinkening. Ganondorf stared. Then he began to laugh.
He was not the only one paying attention, it seemed.
“My eyes are more what, Lady Zelda?”
“They’re more… I don’t know. They’re just more.” She looked down.
“Zelda,” he said softly, and she lifted her gaze back to him. He smiled.
“Come to dinner with me,” he said. “And I’ll explain everything.”