Her first impression is that of a child. She sits on a bench beneath a tangle of wisteria, and watches him cross the garden threshold. Her father is talking of Hylian flowers and pointing with pride at the immaculate lawns, but she can only see the man who accompanies him, the one with hair and eyes like the sun. He looks like a demon from her storybooks, or perhaps the dark stranger who helps lost maidens for a price: a claim to their future, the promise of a first-born child, or something equally sinister. She is uneasy and looks to ensure that Impa is still sitting nearby.
"And here is my lovely daughter. Zelda, this is King Ganondorf of the Gerudos."
She smiles, because it is the polite thing to do, but can muster no words. He smirks. It isn't friendly, and she wants nothing more than to flee.
"Lost for words?" her father smiles. "That is a first, my dear."
"You are always telling me that I talk too much, papa."
She hates how small her voice sounds. It is but a whisper compared to the deep chuckle that rumbles from within the Gerudo.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Zelda."
She bobs her head in acknowledgement as her father directs the man's attention elsewhere, but Ganondorf couldn't care less about roses. She knows this, and senses his fiery eyes return to her. Mustering just enough courage to meet and hold his gaze, she lifts her chin proudly in order to...what? Defy him? Prove that she isn't as timid as she seems? She doesn't understand the impulse or how his eyes narrow almost critically in response.
When he leaves, she rushes to Impa and asks that they return inside.
Her second impression is that of a young woman. She has attended her first ball, but is not yet old enough to be approached for marriage. They say she is blossoming into a beauty, and that men will fight over her hand. Already, she has heard talk about possible matches, and avoids the subject as often as possible. She instead devotes her time to book learning and the little scheme she has going with the servants, who in some ways are freer than herself. They are unseen in the backdrop of meetings between kings and lords, and the ones who know her best also know just what interests her.
Knowledge is power. She understands this, and is sitting with a book when Ganondorf seemingly materializes from the darkness. She does not startle. She knew of his arrival and is merely surprised that he has not changed at all. Perhaps her younger eyes made him seem older than his years, for surely he is not much greater in age than her.
"Princess," he smirks. "I did not realize you were here."
"And what are you doing in this corridor, King Ganondorf?"
He should not be here, so close to the royal family's private quarters, and the wicked tilt of his mouth betrays as much. Untrustworthy, her mind warns. He still makes her uneasy, but she is determined to remain composed.
"I heard the view from this balcony is splendid, but maybe they weren't referring to the garden."
"I have heard better compliments."
The retort is uttered without bite, but its quickness still surprises her. She is not in the habit of such replies—wouldn't dare talk that way at court—but the man doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he chuckles and leans against the wall.
"Careful, princess. I am a king."
"And a guest," she reminds him. "I am not sure what you mean by your comment, but we believe in civility here."
Impa would be proud of such a graceful response.
"Hmm," he muses, gaze sharpening. "You're not as shy as I remember."
"We've only met once. That is hardly enough time to know someone."
"Once," he repeats, and she cannot for the life of her understand his tone.
They lapse into a silence that is quickly shattered by a servant's arrival, but in that moment, she notices golden flecks in his eyes and the strength of his broad shoulders. He is handsome, she realizes, in a wild way. There is knowledge in the way he studies her, and a command that makes her think the guards could do nothing if he decided to harm her. She is uneasy again, and doesn't hear herself dismiss the servant.
"How many books do you read, princess?" he asks, stepping closer until he towers over her. "So much knowledge, but you've never been outside the castle walls, have you? How much do you really know?"
"This is improper," she says at his close proximity.
"There's only so much a book can tell you," he scoffs. "But I guess wisdom would tell you that."
His eyes burn with contempt, and she snaps her book shut, standing. She is nearly a woman now. He will not make her feel small like those men at court!
"You have overstayed your welcome," she says. "Leave or I'll call the guards."
"Guards," he scoffs, but takes a step back.
His eyes really are unlike any she's seen, and they're laughing at her.
"Your people," she continues, "might benefit from some more reading, King Ganondorf. Maybe they would stop making the same mistake of picking fights they can't win."
His expression hardens, and his gaze burns. The wrath there shakes her, but not nearly as much as her own reaction to it. Her posture is perfect, her breath calm. She cannot falter now, and it is oddly familiar despite the fact that she has never been put in such a situation before.
"Not bad," he remarks. "For the weakest piece in the game."
He leaves with a final glance that makes her feel like a puzzle—as if he isn't sure what to make of her anymore. She thinks of this later, when he is showing off in a duel, and marvels that he paid her attention in the first place. No one else at court does, not like that. He is a rude and dangerous man, but that doesn't stop her from blushing when he catches her staring.
Her third impression is that of a survivor. The ball gowns are long gone, and her family is dead. She didn't see the castle fall, but has watched her world crumble brick by brick until she no longer remembers peace and security. She has seen the ugliness of existence, and contemplated the power of emotion and fate while crouching in caves. Emotions, she now knows, are more powerful than words on a page—more powerful than knowledge and reason when uncontrolled. And fate. Fate and emotion seem locked in an embraced in this cycle in which she's caught. She isn't sure which feeds which. Maybe fate determined that she should lose her family, making her sorrow seek justice, and maybe fate wrought destruction on the land so that compassion pushed her to fight.
Ganondorf was right. Living taught her in ways that books could not.
She is tired when he captures her, and braces herself to face the handsome demon of her memories, but this time, calmness comes with ease. She sees wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and healed scars on the back of his hands. He is human, and his people have been scattered to the wind, just like hers.
"You'll make a pretty decoration," he hums.
Her crystal prison hovers near the throne where he lounges. His smirk, at least, hasn't changed.
"You will lose, Ganondorf."
"Is that what you've been telling yourself for seven years?" He shakes his head, and exhales with what might be amusement or exasperation. "I should congratulate you for not simply laying down and surrendering this time. It only took you a few centuries. You're the laughing stock of this game, you know. The poor princess waiting for her hero," he chuckles.
"Is that how you amuse yourself while waiting for your defeat? By belittling others?"
"I have patience, Zelda. Sooner or later, your hero will lose."
How he can be so dismissive of the pain he has both caused and in turn suffered is beyond her, but she thinks of fate and emotions, and wonders when the gold in his eyes became dominant. She sits in her prison, and leans her head against the side with a sigh.
She is not the only survivor in the room.
"However weak I have been in the past, it will not happen again," she vows. "Whatever made you laugh at me when we first met, I will not be that person."
"Words and more words," he dismisses. "You have no reason to fight. The hero does that."
"Then what should I do? Nothing, and have you laugh at me for another few centuries? No."
He is silent a moment, and when she looks, finds him near her prison. She remembers how easily he unnerved her before, and likes the scrutiny on his face. It makes her certain that she could be more than whatever he has seen before in her past reincarnations.
"You're going to change the game," he states, and it almost comes out in awe.
He does not talk to her much after that, but he does not insult her either. In the silence of the throne room, they wait, and she finds him almost too solemn whenever that smugness of his disappears. He is handsome and vile, and sometimes, he almost stares at her with veiled wonder, her dark stranger. She is equally impatient for change.
There is a tombstone in a quiet corner of Hyrule castle's garden. Only the young Princess Zelda visits it, and only when no one is watching. She is surprised to find a man there one day, a man with a shock of red hair and sun-kissed skin. He is near her in age, and studies her openly, almost deterring her from approaching.
"I told the king that I would like to meet the princess," he tells her. "He said that I would find you in the garden."
"And so you have," she returns, pausing. "You must be Ganondorf of the Gerudos."
"Hmm. It would be most improper if anyone found us here, you know." He is mocking her people's sense of propriety with his inflected tone. Rude, she thinks, but steps closer anyway.
"No one comes here except me," she states. "No one will see us."
"Is that an invitation?"
"To sit and view the tombstone, yes." Her hardened words only make him smirk, and she continues as if she hasn't noticed. "This grave is for a Gerudo king, if you didn't know. I don't know his name though. No one remembers."
"I thought you Hylians consider us Gerudos to be demons," he teases, but there's a bitterness there as well.
"Some do. Not all of us."
"You're not scared of me?"
"You're a bit rude," she allows, "But I don't know you. I'll have to make up my mind once we get to know each other."
"Know each other," he exhales with a chuckle, like it's a joke, but then he's looking at her intently, and with another salute to mockery, kisses her hand. She doesn't know what to make of him, but her first impression is of an intelligent, unruly man, and for reasons she'll figure out later, she likes him more than she thought she would.
"So princess," he chuckles. "Let's get to know each other."
"Very well. What is it like living in the desert? Books here only describe the geography."
He doesn't immediately answer, and instead smiles—a real smile, not a smirk.
"Is something wrong?" she asks.
"Right now? Not a thing."
She returns his smile. Yes, she likes this Gerudo very much, first impressions aside.