The woman was brought down to the dungeon, as I recall, on a bright morning of summer of the second year of the war. She had been stripped of the fine, silken cloak the Gerudo spies use for their tasks and her scimitar had been lost during the fray; but her earrings she still held and the fine make-up about her malicious green eyes had not been touched by tears yet. The guards brought her with her hands firmly bound at her back-waist and I was called out of my chamber to begin with the usual manner in which we treat our prisoners. I remember I was writing a letter to my beloved daughter at the time.
At first, I must confess, the beauty of the woman dazed me, even though I never forgot that I was dealing with just another spawn of my enemy. She was not the first Desert Woman I saw in the Hylian dungeon, but even amongst her people she must have been beautiful, I reckoned. I beckoned her and offered her a chair before me. She, as I had expected, spat on my face, kicked the chair away from her and tried to loose herself from the guard's grasp. We, the guard and I, were prepared for these things to happen and simply dismissed her. We let her yell all harsh words she knew at us, curse with every word she could muster and everything else the common Gerudo woman does when captured and brought before her captives. I daresay she could have freed herself and run away with ease had we not been so used to the Gerudo way of things. We only pretended we needed to force her to talk about out enemies' plan and then threw her into a cell. Her curses still filling the air, I sat down and had a sip of ale from the guard's bottle. I thought it would be a kind gesture to offer her some, but my heart was pierced at the mere thought of seen the best Kakariko brew I had tasted in weeks spilled all over the floor, so I let it pass for now. Perhaps I could still share some of my own the next day.
But the news reached me ere long, and by that same night I had already heard of the murder of Queen, may the goddesses grant her peace. Of course, it was beyond anybody's mind to think it might not have been the Gerudo woman caught lurking about in the castle grounds just before dawn. Soon, many royal guards had come down to the dungeon escorting none other than the king himself. As every Hylian knows, for somebody of alien race to see the Lord of Hyrule is quite strange. I hailed my lord and begged forgiveness for having nothing to offer him but good ale and my wooden chair. I could see that his heart and mind were filled with pain and that where his kind eyes once had shone only emptiness remained. He was clad in his chain mail, and he stood like the mighty warrior he was, even as I could see that his thought was quite devoid of wish to fight.
The meeting between the king and the Gerudo woman was short. I could hear time and again the king's grave voice (and I still shudder slightly each time I remember it) shortly followed by the woman's flat answers. It turned out that the thief would not confess her crime; she said that she had nothing to do with the Queen's death and that her role in the castle grounds was that of a spy, that she was no murderer, and that she would never slay a woman unarmed, much less slay her in her sleep.
Of course nobody believed her. She was a thief and a murderer.
I saw the king leave the cell closely followed by his bodyguard, the last soldier shutting the door. I bade farewell to my lord, but he hardly hearkened me. Still, one of his men turned to me and told me to prepare the axe, for this woman's life was forfeit. I remember having thought that such beauty would make for a cruel scene the day of her death, but it did not startle me at all, for this was the custom for traitors and murderers. What did startle me was that, after all the noise she had been doing before and after the king's departure, a deadly silence had fallen on the woman's cell. She no longer yelled and cursed us Hylians but rather had gone quiet, as if none were in the cell. It seemed strange to me that within the Desert Thief the spark of fear had been kindled. This was not the first Gerudo to be put to death by us, yet she was the first one to gone as quiet as she did. But I deemed that her quietness could have been because of a great many other things; perhaps she had grown tired, or perhaps she had grown bored; perhaps she had not even listened to the king's doom.
When I had bidden goodnight to the guard the moon was already peeking over the only window that allowed moonlight. It was, perhaps, a little while ere midnight. I thought that a visit to the woman, even if it meant to be spat on again, would do no harm. I was even a bit bored at the time, and the company of a beautiful lady would suit me just fine. I still laugh at my foolishness, of course, and shamefully confess that I had too many sips of good-old Kakariko brew in my belly. The dungeon was as dark as usual, and I heard nothing behind each of the doors. I walked up to the one behind which the woman was locked up. I slid the key into its hole, (the noise rang all about me, and I remember I thought that it might have just reached the king's chamber) and turned it. I swung the door forth and came in, without any words. There I saw the Desert Thief lying on the bed (if that rotten and smelly piece of wood could be called so), but my footsteps had waken her up at once. She stared at me, with a look of hate in her eyes (though not quite as the most hateful look I have ever beheld) and at once she stood up. She had only her bare hands and I had only a long knife, yet I knew that should our meeting fall into struggle there would not be any great advantage at my side.
"What d'you want?"
I laughed quietly. "Checking on the prisoners, my lady. A warden has duties as well.
"Get out of my sight, you cursed ass!"
"Now see here! I haven't come here to be cursed by a murderer."
"I haven't murdered anybody! I haven't killed anybody in my whole life! You asses believe that every single Gerudo woman is a cold-blooded killer who will slay everyone at her sight! I did not kill the Queen!
"And yet, you were caught fooling about the grounds the night our Lady died. Perhaps you tossed the dagger from far-off? Perhaps you used a bow? I hear that you thieves are great bow-women.
"Dagger? Bow? You fool! You don't even know how the Queen died! How can you call me a murderer when you haven't got even the slightly clue of how she died! Curse you!"
"It really doesn't matter. As pretty as you are, the king does not hold with murderers…
"I am not a murderer."
"…you are to be put to death at noon tomorrow."
"I know! I know that's how you beasts treat your quarter! You are the ones who ought to be called murderers!
To my great surprise, she had begun trembling.
"It was not us who began this war, I remind you. You came, on a fine spring day, and killed off the peoples besides Lake Hylia! Beasts, are we? Beasts don't kill unarmed villagers for the sake of it!
"The Desert has no entrance to the Lake! How could we? Ass! Get out of my sight!
I have not very clear why I remained there, as I was too getting mad at her.
"Well, it really doesn't matter now, does it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you know how we get rid of murderers?"
"I am not a murderer!"
"Their heads roll, and there's no escape of it."
And to my utmost surprise, she began sobbing. Heart-tearing sobs. Amidst her angry words, I could see for the first time in my life the tears of a Gerudo woman. She wailed, again and again, that she had not murdered the Queen, that she was not a murderer, that she was young, young even for the reckoning her people, and that this was the first time she had left the Desert, that she had never slain anybody, ever, and that now she was being called a murderer, and that that was not fair, for she had never done anything like that.
I thought it was, I beg your pardon, rather quick the way she had begun to weep. A Gerudo woman is the toughest warrior in the realm. Why would she break down? That is the only time I have seen a Desert Thief weep, or perhaps not. I could not say anything then; I was too shocked; I turned round and left. I could still hear her sobbing behind the heave door that breached our meeting and it still surprised me. Perhaps I even began to take pity for her, though that would have been a first amongst the ones I have put to death.
The next day came without many other things. The king's men had given the thief one last day and had given her leave to ask for want she desired (except her freeing, of course), but she refused everything and stubbornly decided to remain within the walls of her cell. A Gerudo thing to do, really. During that long day (I had to clean the dungeon for the first time in three months; the hallways, of course) I often passed by the woman's door. Many times I thought I could hear her voice in whispers, as in silent prayer; and many times I felt desire to speak with her and ease her fears, though I had no idea of how could one do such things. I had already realized that I felt pity for her, and I thought it was rather amusing how little time I took to realize that. But my duty was to end her life, not to become her friend. It helped very much the easing of my boredom that I learned well the manner of the Queen's death: she had been poisoned during night, when she used to drink a small cup of wine to the realm's faring. I remember having thought how cowardly the one who killed her might have been, not able to fulfil his purpose without the need of hiding his blade.
The Gerudo usually don't kill with anything other than a blade, but it was not my duty to ponder things about.
When night was come again, I really had nothing better to do but to go and sit beside the woman's door, eavesdropping on everything she said. The guard had already left for supper and would not come back until a few hours ere midnight. I was, in fact, willing to join the thief within the walls of her cell and speak with her, if only I would get curses from her. Since I had no Kakariko harvest on me, I could hold onto quite a few thoughts of mine without straying in the path as I had done the night before. The pity I felt for her had grown as the day had lessened, I must confess. But there was no chance for her to win over my heart for much longer. Soon, I would retire to my chamber, where the axe was already sharpened and my hood was already clean. The last stroke of mercy that I was willing to surrender came upon me when I heard clearly her words of prayer, addressing the goddesses and some other spirits I knew not. I heard her weeping and her fear, blended into a single sentence that I still remember to-day: Hear the cries of your child! She said this, over and over, until I got tired and felt the hand of the guard, who had come back sooner than I had expected, over my shoulder. I bade him bring a last meal, a good meal, for a change, to the prisoner, so that she could spend her last hours in some sort of small joy. It angered me how the guard nearly laughed at my bidding.
The day came, and so did the guards. They took the woman, perforce, and dragged her out of the dungeon. I followed them closely. I could not see the king anywhere, and I learned from one of the soldiers that he would not be a witness to the death of a murderer for it would bring him nothing but evil joy to his already darkened heart. I could do nothing but feel amazed at my lord's wisdom. Up the staircase, across the main hall, down to the gate and into the market they dragged the Gerudo woman; and there the people of Hyrule were gathered at the news from the castle, and they cursed the Desert Thief and tossed at her food, horse-droppings and even stones. I saw how a dirty little boy grabbed a very big one and aimed at the woman's forehead. But she caught a glimpse of the boy and turned her head at the last moment, and for a little while she faced me, and I could see the tears running down from her eyes, washing away the blood that ran from her cheeks. I hated the sight; I saw not a warrior, nor a murderer, nor a thief: I saw a frightened woman who stood her ground under the pain and shame burdened by her enemies. But she was not a woman, she was a child. We came at length to the town-square.
The axe seemed heavier than usual. I saw that it was quite a beautiful blade when it was not stained. I saw a small spot of red (but not blood-red) on the floor; it was a bit of the thief's make-up which had at last fallen from her eye-lids. I heard her sobs again, I saw her tears. But only I could do so. As the guard read the doom appointed to her because of her crimes, I could hear yet again her voice, crying one last time that she was no murderer, that she was the one murdered, that the Hylians were beasts, oh, why have the goddesses forsaken a child. More tears. I remember having wished for a pint of Kakariko's. It was not right, I tell you, not right; I beg forgiveness from my Queen, but I still think that the woman was not lying, that she was not the murderer. Caught at the wrong time at the wrong place. Maybe so it was. It did not feel right, the king's absence, nor the stone tossed by the young lad. What if she was not lying? What if we really killed a child? Of course, she was our enemy, yet to wrongfully judge someone is punishable even if she is our enemy. It did not feel right to hear the doom given to her by the king, and it did not feel right one of the stones aimed at her but that struck me. Such a beautiful face now marred because of somebody's hate. As I let the axe fall, something inside of me kept telling me that the Queen would not have agreed to what was happening.