#lozbotwtotk

A rhythm establishes itself quickly at Hyrule Castle. In the morning Ganondorf and Rauru meet, surrounded by their advisers, to negotiate the terms of Gerudo’s subsumption into Hyrule; in the afternoon, Ganondorf is left free to arrange his own schedule. Well, moderately free. Based on the polite stonewalling of Hyrule’s soldiers, he can guess that any attempt to stray too far from the castle would be blithely discouraged.

So he is surprised when, the day’s discussions done, Rauru invites him to join a hunt in the lowlands of Central Hyrule that afternoon.

“I would be honored to hunt with you,” the Zonai says, delicate fingertips touched to the animal totem he wears at his chest. His secret stone dangles from a cuff on his wrist, but Ganondorf holds his gaze with a polite impassivity on his face.

“Your Majesty’s invitation is very generous,” he says, and there is no particular reason to refuse. “What time shall we depart?”

They ride out together after a light lunch, trailed by a party of servants and chattering courtiers whose names Ganondorf has no inclination to learn. They pick up on his disinterest quickly enough and fall back. Only Rauru rides at Ganondorf’s side, his horse dwarfed by Ganondorf’s black stallion. The Zonai sits straight up in his saddle, his long white hair for once gathered into a thick braid, and sends sidelong glances Ganondorf’s way as they ride along the paved path that curves away from the castle and towards the gate that separates the Great Plateau from the rest of the land.

“Do you hunt often?” he asks, his voice mild and reasonable. “I must confess ignorance as to what sort of hunting there must be in your desert home.”

An ignorance that will not keep him from attempting to claim Gerudo lands for his own, of course. He has been surprisingly rapacious at the negotiating table, demanding far more than the Gerudo have to offer, and all the while watching Ganondorf for his response. Ganondorf is not so stupid as to reveal the temper he is looking for. Now, Ganondorf only answers, “The desert itself offers little in terms of animal prey. There are elk in the highlands, but as for more accessible game, I have usually hunted monsters. Or at least, I did, until Your Majesties were so kind as to seal away the vast majority of monsters in the region.”

He does not sneer; he only smiles. Rauru inclines his head as though he thinks Ganondorf’s gratitude is genuine. “Gerudo is more peaceful now, then?” he asks.

“You might say that.” Ganondorf shrugs in his saddle. “It was previously the role of the Gerudo military to keep the monsters at bay. Now, of course, we welcome Hyrule’s gracious protection.”

Rauru hums in acknowledgment.

Speaking such cloying flattery makes Ganondorf’s skin crawl. So, too, does the obvious pleasure with which Rauru receives it. Hyrule’s king cannot possibly believe Ganondorf’s act, this performance of the craven ruler begging for shelter; he is too wily for that. And yet he plays along, readily accepting the premise that Gerudo should be submissive to Hyrule. That Ganondorf should be submissive to him. His eagerness to have the Gerudo under his thumb is sickening in its audacity.

Now, Rauru says, “Perhaps that is the issue, then, with those insurgents of yours. They have been left without monsters to hunt and instead occupy their time harassing my borders.”

“Do you think so?” Ganondorf asks, his voice bland and too edgeless to mean Do you really think we have no reason to take up arms against you?

“Is there another explanation?” Rauru asks. His voice is bland, too. “This is a problem I have now that I did not have under your predecessor. If the cause is not boredom, then what am I to think? A simple failure of leadership?”

Ganondorf’s stallion tosses his head suddenly. With conscious effort, Ganondorf loosens his grip on the reins, although what he wants to do is cast them around Rauru’s throat and strangle him with them. “The Gerudo police our own, Your Majesty,” he says. “The insurgents will not trouble you for much longer.”

“That is good to…”

Rauru trails off. His gaze has gone suddenly distant, towards the edge of a wooded area. Ganondorf follows his line of sight and sees a wild boar scratching in the grass of the open field. It snuffles and, as they watch, ambles a little further from the trees.

With a tug on the reins, Rauru halts his horse. When he holds up a hand, the sound of hooves quiets from ten meters back as the rest of the hunting party stills as well. Then he readies his bow and takes aim at the boar.

“This has been a problem recently,” Rauru murmurs in explanation to Ganondorf’s nonplussed silence. “There is a sounder of wild boars in the Forest of Spirits, there. All well and good, but these days they have begun venturing out of their territory and endangering the Hylians living in the area.” The tip of his arrow tracks the boar’s oblivious movement. “It’s unfortunate, but the only recourse is to cull them.”

He shoots, and the boar goes down.

An obsequious cheer rises from behind them.

“My men will retrieve the carcass,” Rauru says, and with a click of his tongue he encourages his steed back into motion. Ganondorf does the same, although his gaze remains on the fallen beast until it is out of sight. There is a strange heat on the back of his neck.

“As for your insurgents,” Rauru says, easily resuming their earlier topic as they near the Great Plateau Gate, “you will have Hyrule’s support in subduing them.”

“That will be much appreciated,” Ganondorf lies.

*

They reach the Forest of Time in another half-hour’s ride, and then dismount to leave their horses with the grooms. “Do not injure him,” Ganondorf says as he hands over the reins to a wary-looking Hylian. “You cannot afford what he is worth.” Although it is far more likely that the stallion will attack the groom; he has a temper. If the Hylian is not careful, he may lose a finger.

And then it is into the forest in quiet pursuit. Again the hangers-on stay back, allowing the two kings their companionship—if that is what it should be called. They do not converse just now as they weave through the trees. Rauru only keeps glancing at Ganondorf, his eyes narrowed as though something troubles him. Whenever Ganondorf catches him staring, he shakes himself and looks forward again.

It is cool in the forest, the air verdant and the trees close. The ground is littered with pebbles and fallen twigs, and it takes Ganondorf a few minutes to learn how to ease his weight forward so as to not announce his presence with each footfall. Rauru seems to do the same without conscious thought. The Zonai is alert, but calmly so, his bright eyes roaming their surroundings whenever they do not catch on Ganondorf. There is a sort of irritating ease to his bearing. It does not seem to cross his mind that Ganondorf might be a threat to him. It would be so easy for Ganondorf to draw a hidden knife—he has one in the folds of his belt, of course he does—and drive it into Rauru’s bare midriff and drench this idyllic, peaceful scene in blood, but this never occurs to Rauru. Which is ironic, considering the inherent violence of a hunt. Hyrule’s king is a fool. Ganondorf never would have allowed a hunting party of his own to be so lax in their attitude.

But, if hunting is a genteel thing in Hyrule, then so be it. Ganondorf still intends to demonstrate his own prowess. The first quarry, a trim young buck, falls to an arrow from Ganondorf’s bow, as does a doe soon after. Rauru seems to realize then that this may be a competition and takes down a doe of his own. Each time, they leave their spoils to be claimed and processed by the servants in their wake. When they miss their next target—Rauru’s shot goes wide, too hastily aimed, and the buck startles out of Ganondorf’s sights—Ganondorf lowers his bow and turns towards the Zonai.

“Is it only deer in these woods, Your Majesty?”

“Yes.” Rauru lowers his own weapon and strides forward to retrieve his fallen arrow. Ganondorf watches his movement, the swinging of his thick braid of hair. “They are the best hunting in Central Hyrule. There are boar elsewhere on the plains, but as with those in the Forest of Spirits, we don’t typically kill them.” He pulls the arrow from the ground and returns it to his quiver, then turns back to look at Ganondorf, his face lofty and placid. “Unless they exceed their territory and cause problems, of course.”

“Of course,” Ganondorf agrees, calmly. As though the insinuated threat bores him. That heat prickles on the back of his neck again, but its warning is superfluous. He walks towards Rauru and then past him, his gaze once more scanning the woods around them. Behind him, Rauru too resumes his procession. They walk in silence for a moment, surrounded by the rustling of leaves and the occasional flitter of a bird or insect, and Ganondorf turns thoughts slowly over in his mind, looking for the right angle of approach.

At last he gives a grunt, halfway to a contemplative laugh.

Rauru’s ears twitch as he tries to resist the bait. He fails, and with diplomatic curiosity in his eyes, he prompts, “Hm?”

Ganondorf shrugs. He gives another smile that is not a sneer. “It strikes me as very Zonai of you to leave the boars be only until they inconvenience you.”

Something in Rauru’s face pulls shut very abruptly. “What do you mean by that?”

A fitting question, given that there are a great many things Ganondorf could mean by that. Ganondorf has done his own research into Zonai culture, Zonai history; there was a time in his youth when his interest in the people of the sky bordered on obsession. He learned how they lived on the surface once but fled to the sky to separate themselves the surface-dwellers; he learned how they reengaged with the surface only when they needed resources they could not gather on their own. There is something extractive, if not outright exploitative, in the Zonai attitude towards other tribes. Rauru’s founding of the kingdom of Hyrule is an unsubtle continuation of the same.

But what Ganondorf says is, “Boars were sacred to your people, were they not? A symbol of sacred power and force, and one of your ruling houses.”

A pause. “You are very knowledgeable,” Rauru says. It does not sound like a compliment. “However, I believe you may misunderstand what you have learned. The House of Boars was one of our ruling powers, yes, but the animal itself was never sacred. And that house’s prominence faded many centuries ago. Their vision for leading our people proved… misguided.”

“Misguided?” Ganondorf presses, affecting idle curiosity. Rauru does not respond. The tips of his ears are trembling; it would be unnoticeable if not for the way his many dangling earrings shake. Ganondorf continues, “Perhaps I do misunderstand. Your Majesty must forgive me if I do. But what I have heard is that the House of Boars was home to the most powerful and most imposing of your people. It was their place to draw the dividing lines between the Zonai and all others. The Hylians called them barbarous for that, and feared them. Is that why you call them misguided?”

Rauru straightens. “Yes, as a matter of fact,” he says, and the idleness is gone from his bearing. Now there is coldness and scorn, and neither one hides the defensiveness in the angle of his chin. “They did not only draw dividing lines, as you say; they sowed division.”

“And for that, the rest of your people decided to stamp them out of existence.”

“They were too selfish,” Rauru continues, speaking over Ganondorf. “Too hungry for power at the expense of those they ruled over. When the last ruler of boars took up arms against the other houses, there was no choice but to put an end to them.”

“Just as you cull the wild boars now,” Ganondorf observes.

Rauru searches his face, his eyes intense. Ganondorf leaves him nothing there to find. The Zonai asks, “What are you trying to say, Ganondorf?”

For a moment, Ganondorf does not have an answer to that question. Rauru is uncomfortable on the subject of his ancestors and he wants to make Rauru uncomfortable. Rauru is a hypocrite like his ancestors and refuses to see it. But there is something else here, something that has been gnawing up Ganondorf’s spine since Rauru took aim at the stray boar on the Great Plateau. Or since Ganondorf first learned how the Zonai suppressed the worship of power in favor of other virtues, long, long ago.

Ganondorf holds Rauru’s stare for a moment longer; then he breaks it deliberately to look around. There, in the distance, he sees a flash of brown between the trees. He draws his bow unconcernedly and, several deliberate seconds later, lets the arrow fly. The buck lets loose a shrill animal scream as the arrow pierces its ribcage.

“I find your ancestors very interesting, Your Majesty,” Ganondorf says, as the echoes of its agony die away. “They condemned the House of Boars for their worship of power. But I do not think that you have disavowed the Boar as thoroughly as you think you have. You have only made it into something you are unwilling to name.” He lets his lips twist in a facetiously gracious smile. “Be careful, King Rauru, that Hyrule’s enemies do not claim it in your stead, lest you leave your kingdom undefended… and destined to fade away as your own people have.”

Rauru’s face grows hard and contemptuous. His lips curl, just slightly, revealing the tips of very, very sharp teeth. For just a moment, Ganondorf lets his own smile reveal a hint of cruel triumph.

Then Rauru composes himself, his face going blankly mild once again. He inclines his head and touches his fingertips to the totem on his chest. “I will certainly take that under advisement, Ganondorf,” he says, “in the spirit in which it was meant.”