Note: I'm re-writing the first three chapters of FDG as a way of increasing the quality. They were written at the end of 2010; obviously, my writing style has transformed heavily since then. I'll also be taking the opportunity to do some cleanup in later chapters, removing a majority of the old author's notes and checking for proofreading errors. That being said, I might not catch all of them... but I'll try. To anyone who reads, thanks for your patience, and remember to leave a review! :)

-Colleentj

Flowers Don't Grow in the Desert
Colleentj

The question initially posed was whether roses were the better option, because roses were deep and rich and folded out in a way that reminded Zelda of the folds in the velvet drapery, but then there were also lilies, which were elegant with little petals that sprung forth with a warm, sunny smile. Her father did love roses; he loved them because they were stately and gothic, and yet her mother preferred the lilies for the way they lit up the world. Sunshine flowers, she had called them. Pale eyes flicking back and forth between the two opposing flowerbeds, the princess finally decided that there was simply no sense in having to choose. And then, making sure that nobody was looking (they did hate it when she tampered with the landscaping) she picked three of each and curled them between her soft pink fingers.

The air was saturated with the sweetness that accompanied early spring. Trees blossomed against the azure backdrop of the morning sky, and the wind was crisp, chilly, the ground damp beneath the pads of the child princess' shoes as early blades of grass burst forth in pale green curls. She crossed the gardens and entered the castle through the servants' entrance—something that was habit, but that she had been instructed not to do many times—and found herself finally at the edge of the throne room. Hiding the flowers skillfully behind her back, the young princess took a deep breath and entered the wide, airy hall, reveling in the beauty of it all. The large stone chamber was filled with cream-colored sunlight, the drapes fluttering in the breeze that passed through the large, open windows.

She cantered forward carefully, coming to a halt just as she neared the head of the room. The king and queen of Hyrule sat here, backs arched against their ornate golden thrones, chins pressed up, four eyes peering down. They were garbed in gold and violet, their hair dark and astonishing in contrast to the gold that adorned them from head to toe. A commoner in a long violet coat was kneeling before the monarchs, reveling in their polite smiles and half-devoted attention.

"A mask shop, you say?" the king mused in response to an idea that must have been proposed.

"Yes; oh, yes, your Majesty!" the young man cried, his voice dripping with ecstasy in the presence of his idols.

The king leaned back slowly in his throne, one gloved hand coming into contact with his silken black beard. "I must admit, it sounds rather…"

"…Different," the queen cut in.

"But I have worked so long on these masks! Please, your Majesties, I must make a living!"

Another moment passed, and then the king nodded curtly. "Very well!" he said gruffly, sitting up straight once more. "That will do. I will have land cleared for your shop presently."

"Thank you! Oh, thank you, your Majesties!" The man was squealing with delight, and he scrambled forward to kiss the robes of Hyrule's leaders fervently. "Thank you, thank you…" he repeated, and exited the room blissfully.

Another moment passed before the queen noticed her daughter's recent apparition.

"Zelda, darling! Why, we haven't seen you all morning! And don't you look precious, dressed so delicately in white…" the queen fawned.

"Thank you, madam," Zelda said, giving a light curtsy just as she'd been trained.

"And where have you been?" the king now asked. There was certainly some sternness to his voice, but his tone was not unkind.

"I've been outside, sir, looking for—"

She was interrupted as the doors to the throne room crashed open and the sound of metal clanged from behind her. Whirling around, she caught sight of four guards in full armor racing towards her. The princess ducked out of the way as the company rushed past, panting for breath as they presented their trophy to the monarchs.

"Your Majesties," one of the armored guards said hastily, "we've caught a criminal!"

And with that, they shoved a boy forward, and this boy was the most peculiar boy that Zelda had ever seen. She caught a glimpse of fiery hair, matted down with sand and sweat, but it was all a blur as the boy went tumbling to the floor by the force of the guards. He let out a whimper as earth shook from underneath him, and then squinted his eyes shut, drawing his knees to his chest in pain.

Her heart stuttered in her chest… She could almost swear that she had seen this boy before…

But, no… he was dark-skinned! A Gerudo, Zelda thought to herself, and she recalled the legends she'd been told about the desert thieves, famed for their legerdemain and sly ways. She took a step back automatically, just as she'd been instructed to do in the face of possible danger.

Her gaze returned to her parents, who were eyeing the boy with identical arched brows.

"Would you please explain, Captain?" the queen began.

"He was stealing from civilians in the marketplace," the guard captain began. "We were lucky to get him, fast as his kind are, but the girl—she escaped."

"Girl?" repeated the queen, assuming a stony expression. "I see."

"What was the extent of this crime?" the king now asked, and there was the hint of a scowl on his face.

"He was robbing an old woman in Castle Town. Look, your Majesties, there she is!"

An old woman hobbled into the throne room accompanied by two soldiers. She was shouting all of the way up the aisle, and didn't even bother to bow as she neared the dual thrones, which Zelda recognized as being quite improper. (She didn't say anything, of course. Everybody knew that it wasn't a lady's place to speak up in situations like these.)

"Little rat, little rat!" the woman was crying, her shrill voice cracking with anger. "He took my jewelry and tossed it straight into the sewer, down, down…!" she pointed a knobby finger downward as if her point hadn't been made.

Now the king and queen's faces were drawn.

"Very well, then," the king finally said. "The boy will be kept in the castle until he has served a decent penance for his treachery."

The boy glanced up through his dirty red bangs, straggling to his feet with a huff and furrowing his brow in anger. "My name is Ganon," he grunted. The king's face twisted with the hint of rage.

"Quiet, boy," he warned, and Zelda was thoroughly confused. Why was her father being so cruel?

"I said, my name is GANON!" the boy cried once more, and as his voice rang across the hall, the king jumped to his feet.

"HOLD YOUR TONGUE, YOU GYPSY!" he shouted in retaliation, and a hush fell over the entire company. Even Zelda could only stare, lips hanging agape in shock.

Gypsy! What a terrible word! Even she knew that it was a slur, and a bad one, too. It was a racist word for the Gerudo. Malon had tricked Zelda into saying it to Impa, and the poor princess had been punished with a swift slap to the rear and an early bedtime. But to hear the word exit her father's mouth was a shock that made her stomach turn; why would he do this? Ganon was in pain already… why worsen the burden with the weight of his words? Zelda's grasp on the flowers loosened; originally she had intended them to be a gift to her parents. But they were misbehaving, and Zelda knew better than to reward insolence.

"That necklace," the old hag cut in, "was a gift from my late husband. The nicest gift I ever got! And now it's gone!"

The king raised an eyebrow. "What have you got to say to that, boy?!"

Wordlessly, Ganon sucked in his cheeks. Zelda gaped in horror, already knowing (and dreading) what was going to happen next.

And then it happened as a giant wad of spit escaped Ganon's mouth and catapulted on the hem of the king's robes. The king leapt forth, face red-hot and boiling with rage. His hand shook free of the confines of his robes, and in a terrifying flash, the rough palm of his aged hand slapped hard against Ganon's cheek. The boy collapsed once more to the ground and gave one long, heavy sob, and then bit his lip to fight back the tears. He rolled weakly onto his side and didn't move after that, although he shook just the slightest bit.

"Escort him to the East Wing immediately," the king said harshly, ascending the platform and sitting back on his cushioned throne. When there was nothing, his eyes widened. "Now!" he ordered, and the soldiers scrambled for order, heaving the boy off of the ground and dragging him away as he thrashed and shouted in their arms.

Zelda's eyes widened as she watched him go, and just before he turned the corner, their eyes met briefly for a second, and in those eyes she saw a hopelessness that pervaded beyond anything she'd ever seen, and her heart flooded with sympathy.

Her parents' protests were but echoes in her ears as her feet moved from under her and she dashed after the boy. He continued to kick and scream as the soldiers carried him down a long, windowless corridor, turning a corner, lighting a torch, and then throwing the boy into a pitch-black chamber before bolting the heavy wooden door behind him. Zelda pressed up against the corner, trying to catch her breath and remain unseen as the soldiers shuffled past. Once they'd gone, she crept quietly into the abandoned hallway, her stomach clenching. She'd only been in the East Wing once or twice; it was as dark as midnight here, and as cold as it too, and she and Malon had often dared each other to enter the wing in the dead of night. Haunted, probably, they had joked. Except it hadn't been a joke, and Zelda's heart raced in her chest as she followed the faintness of the torchlight and found the room that Ganon had been locked inside.

There was a candelabra on a hook on the wall and she removed it gingerly, igniting it in the flames of the torch and then reaching for the dusty key that was always kept on the top edge of the doorframe. Her soft fingers scraped against the cold metal and she entered it into the keyhole tentatively, the lock clicking faintly as it gave way. The door swung slightly open.

She peered through the crack in the door. She could faintly make out Ganon's weeping silhouette in the candlelight. Stepping forward experimentally, she let the door click shut behind her, and that was when he noticed her.

Ganon glanced up and his sobs were caught in his throat. He took a long, shaky breath, eyes wide as he drank her in.

She was an angel, surely, an angel. He'd heard of them from the merchants that sometimes passed through the valley. Angels were beautiful and pure, and they glowed with an ethereal radiance that was soft yet brilliant. Like an angel, Zelda was garbed all in white, from the wreath of flowers in her hair to the pearls across her collar to the long, silken skirt that pooled around her feet. Surely she was an angel, warm and kind in spirit, here to take him away. Here to take him to the heavens.

And surely, Zelda thought, glancing now at the boy, surely he was a rebel. She'd heard of them from the storybooks in her father's library, the storybooks that had taken her out of castle walls where she otherwise would never have been allowed. This boy was an adventurer and a pirate and a rebel, somebody that fought the current and left a blazing trail behind him. Like a rebel, Ganon had fought against her father's injustices with his words and his scowls. Surely he was a rebel, bold and brash in spirit, here to take her away. Here to take her on an adventure.

"Hello," she said, and she was slightly breathless as she admired the dirty, ragged boy before her. "I'm Princess Zelda, and I'm seven years old." She paused. "…Are you okay?"

"I…" he lowered his eyes. "I am now," he answered, a blush crawling up his neck. She really was very pretty.

A pleasant smile crossed her rose-colored cheeks, and she placed the candelabra in front of her as she sat down. She smoothed out her skirt and placed that morning's flowers in her lap, reaching her palms across the threshold and grabbing hold of Ganon's. They were grimy, and she could feel the sweat and dirt rub off on her own fingers, but she didn't mind. She clutched his hot hands in her own and squeezed gently.

"I wish you would stop crying."

"I'm not crying," he countered, sniffing in spite of himself.

"You don't have to lie," Zelda continued. "Was it my father?"

"No."

"Yes it was."

"All right, yes, it was," Ganon answered, raising his face to meet hers. "Look at what he did to me."

In the candlelight, Zelda could just make out a web of cracked skin, beads of blood seeping onto the surface.

"Oh, Ganon…" she whispered, her face falling as she reached up and brushed a patch of the tender skin. He closed his eyes at her cool touch.

"It… hurt," he stated bluntly.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. She traced a final bit of skin and then pulled away, breaking contact with Ganon completely as she returned to her spot across from him. "You mustn't let my father upset you. He may be stern, but he's really kind deep down inside. Sometimes he banishes me to my room for days at a time when I'm naughty, and the door only opens when I'm being served food, but it's always good and delicious food, and he sends peppermints and chocolates with the tray, and if I ask for tea it's always sent to me with a little spoon that is perfectly my size and is always shined first. He pretends to be mean, but he really isn't."

A faint smile had appeared on Ganon's face, but it vanished after only a moment. "But… my sister…"

"You mean the girl that the guards were talking about?" Zelda asked.

"Yes," Ganon answered. "Her name's Nabooru… she's bitter and funny and she's my rival. We're both in line for the throne—"

"Of Gerudo Valley?!" asked Zelda suddenly, perking up.

Ganon's blush reappeared. "…Well, yes. We were trying to see who could steal the best item from the marketplace and then bring it back home on the next caravan."

"Caravan?"

"We travel in groups," he continued. "My people won't be happy when they notice I've disappeared. I'm the only boy. And I'm a prince, because only one boy is born every hundred years, which was nine years ago for me, and he's always in line to be king. Except if he has the same parents as another girl, then the girl can fight for the rights to the throne. It's… well, it's complicated."

Zelda plopped back on her palms. "Girls can't be in charge in Hyrule," she lamented, tilting her chin downward as she stared into the flame before her. "Mother is always saying that only a boy can take over Hyrule Castle. That's why Mother and Father tried so very hard to have a son, but they could only have me, and now all they ever do is train me to be proper so that they can marry me off someday. I find it very unfair, as I think I would like to play with other children for once."

Ganon's eyes narrowed. "Have you ever played? Anything?"

Zelda was quiet. "Once or twice."

A moment passed, and then Ganon said, staring furiously at the tiled floor, "I'll play with you, if you'd like."

The princess smiled to herself. "I would like that very much."

After another second of silence, Ganon reluctantly withdrew something from his pocket. Zelda's eyes widened.

"Is that the necklace you stole?!"

"…Yes…"

"I thought you threw it down the sewer!" she cried in astonishment, cradling the outstretched amethyst in her palms. It really was very pretty.

"It was only a magic trick," Ganon explained. "Every thief knows how to conceal things without anyone noticing. The only reason she noticed the necklace was gone was because I stole it right off of her collar. Would've gotten away with it, too, if the guards hadn't seen me."

Zelda giggled against her will. "Are you going to give it back?"

"What—no!" Ganon cried. "It's too pretty. Nabooru liked it, that's why I took it. But… I won't be seeing her again, so…" He bit his lip. "Well, Princess… would you like it?"

The girl's ice-blue eyes widened for a second, and then her face split into a grin as she leaned forward. "Okay, then," she said, and held still. Ganon just looked at her.

"What?"

"Go ahead and fasten it around my neck!" Zelda prodded. Now Ganon's eyes went wide, and he fought back a blush as he reached forward and clasped the gold chain around the princess, his wrists brushing the cool, soft skin of her neck and shoulders. He stayed like that for a second, and then he pulled away quickly, trying to ignore the curious look that Zelda was giving him.

She reached to the side suddenly and scooped up the six flowers that she'd picked that morning, holding them out in front of her.

"Here you are," she said. "I want you to have them. They were for my parents, but…"

Ganon took the flowers into his hands delicately, twirling them in the candlelight and admiring one white flower in particular.

"Lilies are my favorite thing about Hyrule," he mused, and then glanced at Zelda as earnestly as he ever would. "Flowers don't grow in the desert."

For a second, she just stared blankly. And then she smiled, smiled with a raw, sheer radiance that rivaled that of the desert sun, and clasped her arms around his neck. She was lightly perfumed, and Ganon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, wrapping his arms around her cool, soft torso, and grinning into her shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" she whispered as a bell tolled somewhere, signaling noon in Hyrule Castle.

"Okay," Ganon answered, and she pulled away, flicking her feathery blond hair from her shoulder and getting to her feet.

"And I promise I'll get you out of this room. I'll show you the courtyard—it's full of flowers! Roses and lilies and peonies and poppies and violets—oh, you'll love them all," the princess rambled, brushing off her silken skirt and crossing towards the door. She paused as her hand was on the doorknob.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Prince Ganon of Gerudo Valley."

"And it's wonderful to meet you, too, Princess Zelda of Hyrule."

"Please," she said with a smile, halfway out the door before peering around the edge, "call me just Zelda."

"All right," said Ganon, and he could only admire her as she stood there, young and pretty like a flower herself, blond hair draped over one shoulder, pale eyes scrutinizing him from under the slanted, elegant brow, one white limb extended out, draped against the wooden door, fingers fresh and pink and slightly curled, slightly curled like her smile, which was pink and curious and continued straight up into her eyes.

"Just Zelda," he concluded quietly as the door clicked shut behind the princess. He didn't know why he felt like he'd known her for a thousand years; maybe it was her personality, or maybe it was something much deeper.

Perhaps I knew her in another life, he mused to himself. Little did he know that, outside in the corridor, Zelda was thinking the exact same thing.

It's like I knew him before I ever laid eyes on him, she thought as she freed herself of the dark corridor and entered the bright, golden entrance hall. And yet, the girl continued in her mind, for all I know, maybe I did.

It was a joke; a small joke, one that she'd made to herself, and yet the thought was there, and it would linger there for awhile. Because what if they had met before? Nay, impossible, and with that, she shook the thought from her mind and found her way to one of the ornate arched windows that framed the entrance hall. She rested her hand on the windowsill and peered out at the wildflowers that grew in the front field, flowers that were stretching toward the rays of the sun in what was a whole-hearted attempt to flourish.

She smiled inwardly and bowed her head. If flowers don't grow in the desert, she thought to herself, then I shall water and nurture and raise the growing seed until it is in full bloom.

And, satisfied with this thought, she turned on her heel and ventured onward, completely unaware of what "full bloom" would come to be.