Enjoyer Of Tri Force Heroes and Twilight Princess

Her door suddenly opened, and Zelda flinched, turning and looking at the guard that came in. She was beginning to remember their faces, though she hadn’t figured out this one’s name yet.

“Your presence is required by his Majesty,” she said, and Zelda looked away.

“Tell him I’m busy,” she replied, still pacing, and her guard tapped her spear on the floor.

“It was not a request.”

Zelda’s steps slowed, and she looked longingly out her window as two other guards came into her room. There was no point in fighting it.

Will this be it? she wondered as the guards escorted her out and down the hallways, Zelda forced to speed her steps in order to keep up with their long strides. Is he finally going to make good on all his threats?

She swallowed. Link had been worried of torture when she’d talked to him in his dream, and though she’d reassured him, the thought had lingered heavily on her.

Goddesses give me strength.

It wasn’t long before they reached a room that had once been her father’s, one Zelda rarely entered. The lack of as many specific memories made the inside’s changed decor somewhat less jarring, but the change was still a surprise.

The room was draped in silk, large braziers lighting it in flickering light. A breeze came in through the windows, ripping the silks, and blew the smell of what Zelda thought was incense into her nose. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, but she still stiffened as she was pulled forward and saw Ganondorf, reclining on a couch as he dined.

She’d known he was angry earlier. She could hear him raging at something, felt a flash of his power through her own piece of the Triforce. He seemed calm now, but as Zelda stood in front of him, there seemed to be something still churning beneath his calm expression, a rage barely held back.

Something has happened.

Ganondorf didn’t speak, busy with finishing the melon in front of him, and the silence stretched, Zelda beginning to sweat. Even with the open window it was much too warm in here.

“I’ve heard you’re quite the musician,” Ganondorf said suddenly, setting the melon rind aside. Zelda blinked, not expecting the comment.

Ganondorf snapped his fingers, and a servant stepped forward, holding a small harp.

“Play for me. It’s been a long day,” he said as the servant handed Zelda the harp, and she looked at the instrument. It seemed well cared for, the surface smooth, and when she ran a tentative hand along the strings, they sounded in tune. “Something slow.”

Zelda debated refusing, but a part of her calmed with an instrument in hand, a familiar weight in her arms. Music had always been a refuge, a comfort through hardship. She breathed out as her guards moved to stand by the door, and after briefly familiarizing herself with this particular instrument, began to play.

Notes drifted through the air, slow and leisurely. It was an old song she’d chosen to play, one that brought to mind smooth water and gently flowing streams. Ganondorf seemed pleased enough with it, and he leaned back as she played, her fingers rippling across the strings.

Ganondorf resumed his meal without a word, and Zelda didn’t look at him as she played, the tune soon falling to a close. He told her to play another, and Zelda complied, choosing another tune that was slow in its tempo.

She tried to get lost in the music, but her thoughts swirled, her fingers tense. It was impossible to be calm while in the same room as the man who’d taken so much from her. Impossible not to remember waking up in Kakariko after the castle had fallen, in pain so intense she could barely ask what had happened, Impa’s expression saying it all.

Zelda started another song when she finished that one without Ganondorf asking, and he nodded approvingly, something in Zelda bristling at his demeanor. How could he sit there and demand entertainment from her while he ground Hyrule under his foot? While he hunted her son? While he pretended this was just a casual dinner, and not yet another obvious show of his strength?

“That’s quite an unpleasant face, Zelda,” Ganondorf observed, and with a great deal of effort, she smoothed it. “Do you not enjoy your craft?”

“I have always enjoyed music,” she replied as she again shifted songs, this time to one that told the tale of a great hero of old, and his victory against a demon. Ganondorf must have recognized it, for his eyes narrowed.

“You’re quite the talented player,” he said, setting aside an empty dish, and picking up a goblet instead. “I suppose your child inherited that?”

Zelda did not reply.

Ganondorf waited a moment, then took a long sip of his drink, lowering it and setting it at the low table by his side.

“I thought you might like to know Kakariko has been burnt to the ground,” he said, and Zelda’s fingers missed a note. “The warrior we captured told us precisely where his home was. They stood no chance against our forces.”

Zelda kept her appearance calm, but inwardly she felt nothing but horror. Kakariko, the one refuge she knew of that was left fully hidden from Ganondorf... had been destroyed? Was Impa alive? Were any of them alive?

And worst of all, she’d sent Link to Kakariko.

Was he..?

“Were there survivors?” she couldn’t help but ask, and Ganondorf took another sip of wine.

“They scattered like rats. I’m sure some managed to crawl back into their holes, but we killed many. Amazing how much of a fight they put up, for so little gain.”

A hint of relief hit her past the grief. Surely they would’ve gotten Link away as soon as possible. And if Ganondorf had found Link, or Impa for that matter, he’d be gloating about it.

He’s safe. At least there’s that.

“We’ll track down whatever is left of them soon enough though,” Ganondorf said, and wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “They’ll all pay the price for helping a traitor to the crown. Courage is mine, and they’ve helped keep it from me.”

Zelda flicked her eyes up from the harp. “What are you going to do to them?”

Ganondorf smirked. “Their fate will be the same as the last holder of Courage. And then that miserable tribe will finally be out of my hair.”

“You’d wipe them all out?” she whispered, her notes sharp as she plucked the harp.

Ganondorf took another sip. “They’re my enemies, Zelda. I can’t have them all brought here as prisoners, they might get notions of freeing you. Better to cut the weeds out by the root.”

“Even the children?” she said sharply, and Ganondorf lowered his cup.

“Children grow up. And take revenge for their fallen parents. I’d be a fool to keep future threats alive.”

He met her eyes, and Zelda knew he wasn’t speaking only of Sheikah.

“Well I have no doubt they’ll slip through your fingers,” Zelda said with a burst of anger, changing to a more upbeat tune, one with a difficult rhythm to keep up with. “The Sheikah have had no trouble outsmarting you. After all, it took you this long to find them, and only after torturing one of their own.”

“I’d been on the verge of locating them for years,” Ganondorf said in a sharper voice. “I’ve quelled any rebellion they’ve sparked, purged any dissent in my kingdom.”

“Yet you were unable to get rid of them all in your little raid,” Zelda replied, her music speeding. “And still struggle to control your kingdom. Yet another failure of yours, Ganondorf.”

His nostrils flared. “Do not speak to me that way. It is only by my generosity that you still live at all.”

“You mean inability?” Zelda said idly, unable to stop herself from poking the beast in front of her with her words. She was tired of listening to his cruelty without being able to strike back, his promises of death against people she cared for. She was done listening to it. “I still hold Wisdom. You still don’t know the location of Courage, nor the whereabouts of my heir. It seems to me that you’re unable to get anything that you—”

“Silence,” Ganondorf snapped, that rage she’d seen earlier now bubbling up.

Against her better judgment, Zelda kept talking. “I have a strange feeling that Kakariko was not as great a victory as you’re making it out to be either. Courage has once again slipped your grasp. Hyrule’s magic is breaking free of your hold. It seems to me only a matter of time before the Hero—”

In one quick movement Ganondorf stood, grabbed a spear from one of his guards, and threw it at Zelda.

She lunged to the side, but it still caught part of her sleeve, making her gasp as her clothing was pinned to the wall. The guards and servants in the room stilled, and things seemed far too quiet without Zelda’s music.

“Get out,” Ganondorf said in a low voice, eyes burning gold, his hand the same color.

Zelda couldn’t make herself move. She knew she should tear herself free, but she was fixated on Ganondorf’s eyes, eyes she’d seen in countless dreams and visions of her people murdered and destroyed, eyes that burned with a hatred that felt directly focused in on her.

“I said GET OUT!” he roared, spilling his wine as he grabbed a sword from his belt.

Zelda finally managed to rip herself free as Ganondorf threw the sword, luckily missing her by a wider margin. The guards who’d brought her here quickly took her arms and pulled her out before Ganondorf could throw anything else, and the door boomed shut behind her, the sound of Ganondorf raging still legible through the door.

She noted suddenly that she was trembling.

Her guards practically had to carry her down the hallways until her legs behaved enough that she could walk, Zelda still shaking. Her old scars ached for some reason, and a thin trickle of blood traced down her arm where the spear had grazed her.

He could have killed her.

He would have killed her.

Both of her guards seemed unusually quiet as they marched, and Zelda risked a glance at them as she did her best to calm down.

“Does... does he often act like that?” she asked softly, not really expecting an answer. But one shifted a little at the question, and then breathed out.

“More than he used to,” she murmured, Zelda noticing a few streaks of silver in her red hair. “...He was a sweet boy, once.”

The other guard said something sharp in Gerudo, and the first shook her head, muttering something back. Zelda listened to them argue a moment, only able to pick out a word here and there, and distantly wished she’d learned more Gerudo over the years.

“He’s a great king,” the younger said finally, and despite the proud tilt of her head, Zelda thought she saw something fearful in the depths of her eyes. “The stresses of running such a large kingdom would get to anyone. And you’re a prisoner, you deserve his temper.”

Zelda merely nodded, noting the discussion to think through later when she felt more calm, and her guards escorted her into her rooms, then locked the door behind them as they left.

Then Zelda sank down onto the closest chair, trembling as she felt at her ripped sleeve.

She’d pushed too far. She’d seen his anger, and yet when he’d mentioned Link and what he’d done to Kakariko, she’d let her emotions get the better of her, and pressed every button of Ganondorf’s she could think of. And it hadn’t done any good.

She couldn’t fight him like that.

It’s time to enact the plan, she thought with a heavy swoop of dread in her stomach, managing to stand in order to look for something to wrap her arm. Before he kills Link... or me.

She swallowed, and ran a trembling hand along her faintly bleeding arm.

Her door suddenly opened, and Zelda flinched, turning and looking at the guard that came in. She was beginning to remember their faces, though she hadn’t figured out this one’s name yet.

“Your presence is required by his Majesty,” she said, and Zelda looked away.

“Tell him I’m busy,” she replied, still pacing, and her guard tapped her spear on the floor.

“It was not a request.”

Zelda’s steps slowed, and she looked longingly out her window as two other guards came into her room. There was no point in fighting it.

Will this be it? she wondered as the guards escorted her out and down the hallways, Zelda forced to speed her steps in order to keep up with their long strides. Is he finally going to make good on all his threats?

She swallowed. Link had been worried of torture when she’d talked to him in his dream, and though she’d reassured him, the thought had lingered heavily on her.

Goddesses give me strength.

It wasn’t long before they reached a room that had once been her father’s, one Zelda rarely entered. The lack of as many specific memories made the inside’s changed decor somewhat less jarring, but the change was still a surprise.

The room was draped in silk, large braziers lighting it in flickering light. A breeze came in through the windows, ripping the silks, and blew the smell of what Zelda thought was incense into her nose. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, but she still stiffened as she was pulled forward and saw Ganondorf, reclining on a couch as he dined.

She’d known he was angry earlier. She could hear him raging at something, felt a flash of his power through her own piece of the Triforce. He seemed calm now, but as Zelda stood in front of him, there seemed to be something still churning beneath his calm expression, a rage barely held back.

Something has happened.

Ganondorf didn’t speak, busy with finishing the melon in front of him, and the silence stretched, Zelda beginning to sweat. Even with the open window it was much too warm in here.

“I’ve heard you’re quite the musician,” Ganondorf said suddenly, setting the melon rind aside. Zelda blinked, not expecting the comment.

Ganondorf snapped his fingers, and a servant stepped forward, holding a small harp.

“Play for me. It’s been a long day,” he said as the servant handed Zelda the harp, and she looked at the instrument. It seemed well cared for, the surface smooth, and when she ran a tentative hand along the strings, they sounded in tune. “Something slow.”

Zelda debated refusing, but a part of her calmed with an instrument in hand, a familiar weight in her arms. Music had always been a refuge, a comfort through hardship. She breathed out as her guards moved to stand by the door, and after briefly familiarizing herself with this particular instrument, began to play.

Notes drifted through the air, slow and leisurely. It was an old song she’d chosen to play, one that brought to mind smooth water and gently flowing streams. Ganondorf seemed pleased enough with it, and he leaned back as she played, her fingers rippling across the strings.

Ganondorf resumed his meal without a word, and Zelda didn’t look at him as she played, the tune soon falling to a close. He told her to play another, and Zelda complied, choosing another tune that was slow in its tempo.

She tried to get lost in the music, but her thoughts swirled, her fingers tense. It was impossible to be calm while in the same room as the man who’d taken so much from her. Impossible not to remember waking up in Kakariko after the castle had fallen, in pain so intense she could barely ask what had happened, Impa’s expression saying it all.

Zelda started another song when she finished that one without Ganondorf asking, and he nodded approvingly, something in Zelda bristling at his demeanor. How could he sit there and demand entertainment from her while he ground Hyrule under his foot? While he hunted her son? While he pretended this was just a casual dinner, and not yet another obvious show of his strength?

“That’s quite an unpleasant face, Zelda,” Ganondorf observed, and with a great deal of effort, she smoothed it. “Do you not enjoy your craft?”

“I have always enjoyed music,” she replied as she again shifted songs, this time to one that told the tale of a great hero of old, and his victory against a demon. Ganondorf must have recognized it, for his eyes narrowed.

“You’re quite the talented player,” he said, setting aside an empty dish, and picking up a goblet instead. “I suppose your child inherited that?”

Zelda did not reply.

Ganondorf waited a moment, then took a long sip of his drink, lowering it and setting it at the low table by his side.

“I thought you might like to know Kakariko has been burnt to the ground,” he said, and Zelda’s fingers missed a note. “The warrior we captured told us precisely where his home was. They stood no chance against our forces.”

Zelda kept her appearance calm, but inwardly she felt nothing but horror. Kakariko, the one refuge she knew of that was left fully hidden from Ganondorf... had been destroyed? Was Impa alive? Were any of them alive?

And worst of all, she’d sent Link to Kakariko.

Was he..?

“Were there survivors?” she couldn’t help but ask, and Ganondorf took another sip of wine.

“They scattered like rats. I’m sure some managed to crawl back into their holes, but we killed many. Amazing how much of a fight they put up, for so little gain.”

A hint of relief hit her past the grief. Surely they would’ve gotten Link away as soon as possible. And if Ganondorf had found Link, or Impa for that matter, he’d be gloating about it.

He’s safe. At least there’s that.

“We’ll track down whatever is left of them soon enough though,” Ganondorf said, and wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “They’ll all pay the price for helping a traitor to the crown. Courage is mine, and they’ve helped keep it from me.”

Zelda flicked her eyes up from the harp. “What are you going to do to them?”

Ganondorf smirked. “Their fate will be the same as the last holder of Courage. And then that miserable tribe will finally be out of my hair.”

“You’d wipe them all out?” she whispered, her notes sharp as she plucked the harp.

Ganondorf took another sip. “They’re my enemies, Zelda. I can’t have them all brought here as prisoners, they might get notions of freeing you. Better to cut the weeds out by the root.”

“Even the children?” she said sharply, and Ganondorf lowered his cup.

“Children grow up. And take revenge for their fallen parents. I’d be a fool to keep future threats alive.”

He met her eyes, and Zelda knew he wasn’t speaking only of Sheikah.

“Well I have no doubt they’ll slip through your fingers,” Zelda said with a burst of anger, changing to a more upbeat tune, one with a difficult rhythm to keep up with. “The Sheikah have had no trouble outsmarting you. After all, it took you this long to find them, and only after torturing one of their own.”

“I’d been on the verge of locating them for years,” Ganondorf said in a sharper voice. “I’ve quelled any rebellion they’ve sparked, purged any dissent in my kingdom.”

“Yet you were unable to get rid of them all in your little raid,” Zelda replied, her music speeding. “And still struggle to control your kingdom. Yet another failure of yours, Ganondorf.”

His nostrils flared. “Do not speak to me that way. It is only by my generosity that you still live at all.”

“You mean inability?” Zelda said idly, unable to stop herself from poking the beast in front of her with her words. She was tired of listening to his cruelty without being able to strike back, his promises of death against people she cared for. She was done listening to it. “I still hold Wisdom. You still don’t know the location of Courage, nor the whereabouts of my heir. It seems to me that you’re unable to get anything that you—”

“Silence,” Ganondorf snapped, that rage she’d seen earlier now bubbling up.

Against her better judgment, Zelda kept talking. “I have a strange feeling that Kakariko was not as great a victory as you’re making it out to be either. Courage has once again slipped your grasp. Hyrule’s magic is breaking free of your hold. It seems to me only a matter of time before the Hero—”

In one quick movement Ganondorf stood, grabbed a spear from one of his guards, and threw it at Zelda.

She lunged to the side, but it still caught part of her sleeve, making her gasp as her clothing was pinned to the wall. The guards and servants in the room stilled, and things seemed far too quiet without Zelda’s music.

“Get out,” Ganondorf said in a low voice, eyes burning gold, his hand the same color.

Zelda couldn’t make herself move. She knew she should tear herself free, but she was fixated on Ganondorf’s eyes, eyes she’d seen in countless dreams and visions of her people murdered and destroyed, eyes that burned with a hatred that felt directly focused in on her.

“I said GET OUT!” he roared, spilling his wine as he grabbed a sword from his belt.

Zelda finally managed to rip herself free as Ganondorf threw the sword, luckily missing her by a wider margin. The guards who’d brought her here quickly took her arms and pulled her out before Ganondorf could throw anything else, and the door boomed shut behind her, the sound of Ganondorf raging still legible through the door.

She noted suddenly that she was trembling.

Her guards practically had to carry her down the hallways until her legs behaved enough that she could walk, Zelda still shaking. Her old scars ached for some reason, and a thin trickle of blood traced down her arm where the spear had grazed her.

He could have killed her.

He would have killed her.

Both of her guards seemed unusually quiet as they marched, and Zelda risked a glance at them as she did her best to calm down.

“Does... does he often act like that?” she asked softly, not really expecting an answer. But one shifted a little at the question, and then breathed out.

“More than he used to,” she murmured, Zelda noticing a few streaks of silver in her red hair. “...He was a sweet boy, once.”

The other guard said something sharp in Gerudo, and the first shook her head, muttering something back. Zelda listened to them argue a moment, only able to pick out a word here and there, and distantly wished she’d learned more Gerudo over the years.

“He’s a great king,” the younger said finally, and despite the proud tilt of her head, Zelda thought she saw something fearful in the depths of her eyes. “The stresses of running such a large kingdom would get to anyone. And you’re a prisoner, you deserve his temper.”

Zelda merely nodded, noting the discussion to think through later when she felt more calm, and her guards escorted her into her rooms, then locked the door behind them as they left.

Then Zelda sank down onto the closest chair, trembling as she felt at her ripped sleeve.

She’d pushed too far. She’d seen his anger, and yet when he’d mentioned Link and what he’d done to Kakariko, she’d let her emotions get the better of her, and pressed every button of Ganondorf’s she could think of. And it hadn’t done any good.

She couldn’t fight him like that.

It’s time to enact the plan, she thought with a heavy swoop of dread in her stomach, managing to stand in order to look for something to wrap her arm. Before he kills Link... or me.

She swallowed, and ran a trembling hand along her faintly bleeding arm.