Pink.
It was not often that Gerudo eyes saw such a colour. Flowers did not grow in the west to yield such a shade, and those rare fabrics or dyes—pilfered from merchant caravans—that did were not widely favored against robust reds and rich purples usually worn. Tanned skin did not hold habit of carrying the hue either, even amongst the younger ranks that would giggle and squirm at a mere sight of their King.
But worn on paler pigment, brightly flush about the narrow bridge of a Hylian nose and high cheekbones, it was very hard to miss.
The visiting royalty had been under close scrutiny to begin with for their oddities and impractical tastes, but Princess Zelda seemed to be the most rigid of all. Under the relentless desert heat, her entourage had been quick to adapt; guardsmen arriving in steel had quickly stripped down to basic leather armours, and the few delegates had given up any layers of attire they could within decency. Any snide remarks on the first day to be overheard about bared midriffs and shoulders had been rather quickly silenced by the third. Even the prudish translator had traded his tunic for cheesecloth.
Zelda, however, walked out into the scorching sands each morning with her head held high, not willing to remove so much as a glove.
If envy was green, the Gerudo cackled, pink surely shaded the pig-headed.
"You can see her glistening from ten paces," remarked a child to her mother, pointing and grinning wide at the strange sight of the Princess, "It's like she's made of glass!"
The Gerudo smirked down at her daughter, running slender fingers through the child's red hair. "She probably is, Nasiir… hard, but ready to shatter under a little bit of pressure."
Such were the sentiments the Gerudo King had often heard since the Hylians arrived, and inconspicuously leaning against the shaded brick of a doorway, Ganondorf watched his stubborn guest from afar. Zelda was famed for gracefulness in her own lands, but as golden eyes followed her—strolling with a parasol alongside his second in command—he felt 'stilted' was a better word… perhaps even sluggish, if he were honest.
A miracle that she can hold herself upright with that wisp of a frame, he thought dourly, let alone move under all of that.
Unable to hide from duty for long, his second spotted him, changing her course quickly to approach. One glance was enough to glean that the Princess held the same habit for boring small talk as her father, and there was only so much touring one could do of the fortress without affording potential spymasters an unwanted glimpse of anything untoward. With a sigh, he pushed away from the wall to meet them, a defeated kick given to the sand as he thought of how best he could occupy the bland girl without it being a complete loss.
Crystalline eyes looked his way, dulled by the slim shade of her parasol—had it not been for that, Ganondorf too would have noted that Zelda did indeed glisten under the sun. Forcing a diplomatic smile, he would greet her with a nod, curt; her pale lips pursed in turn, his second simply waving the burdensome girl onwards only to flee without a word.
"Princess," Great Mother above, you're even more pink than before, "I trust Taniiyu has filled your day well thus far?"
He spared a damning glance toward the retreating Gerudo warrior, but refreshed his tailored smile when Zelda spoke, gesturing slowly for her to walk with him.
"She has, yes..." The Princess conceded, tucking a sweat slicked lock of hair aside, "Your archery range is quite impressive. I'll admit, while I am familiar with the sport, I don't fancy my aim on horseback would see me fair well." A hollow, forced sounding chuckle left her, saccharine in its timing to suggest—to his ear—either a lie or a wish to be elsewhere.
Barely concealing his grimace, Ganondorf chose not to respond beyond an affirmative grunt. Unsure of how to time his lengthy stride beside her, his gaze wandered toward their feet. Even under her skirts, a misstep was obvious to catch, and though the girl carried herself stiffly, the reality was her walk was gaining a slight wobble. Zelda seemed to notice his scrutiny, pausing and self consciously fiddling with her parasol, and then pretending to people watch in order to draw his gaze elsewhere.
"You all do spend so much time outside…" she blurted hurriedly, seeming to stop short of what she wanted to say and covering it with a breathless, uneasy sort of laugh.
At her sudden airiness, the Gerudo frowned, coming to a halt alongside her. "Coming from shaded courtyards and cool stone walls, Princess, it probably does seem a novelty to you," he cornered her easily; squinting to note even the points of her ears had grown pink. "Most Hylians do tend to underestimate the climate, here."
"I suppose it is… very different…"At the very mention of the temperature, Zelda's hand unconsciously rose to fan her face lightly, her smile worn small upon dry lips to avoid cracking. Her denial did not crack either. "Quite refreshing, actually, I could use more sun on my skin. The latest studies have the physicians advising it's rather good for one's vitality."
"I think in your case that remains to be seen. You seem to be bit unsteady on your feet, if anything…" Ganondorf returned quickly, brushing her distractions aside. "Long dresses don't mix well with the sands, either, of course."
But, neither do most things of Hylian make, he hissed internally. If her pride was anything to gauge by, the coming years of diplomacy between them would be tenuous at best—Gods knew his people could not survive another reign like her father's… and the last war had cost far more than was gained. Their numbers had still not fully recovered.
Her grip on the parasol tightened. "Yes, well… The sand is quite difficult to walk in, what with my being so used to sturdier ground." That was all she would concede, however, as Zelda held firm to her rouse. "But, it's early days yet, and I think I'm managing rather well."
She watched from the corner of her eye nervously as he studied her, peering over her from head to toe as a fiery brow began to rise in question. Then the Gerudo sidled closer, a knowing glint in his eye as he whispered her way, wearing the expression of a peddler whom she'd haggled with too long.
"Really?" sarcasm draped the word as he stared her down, "It looks to me like you're about to faint."
"I feel fine." She said resolutely, flicking a small frown his way in warning. Unbeknownst to her, she had also begun to sway—the previous walk had left her a little lightheaded, she supposed, but a moment to compose herself was all she likely needed.
"You're a ridiculous shade of pink, your lips are chapped and you are sweating arrowheads." he scoffed, derisive as his glare sharpened, "You are not 'fine'. You're dehydrated," A negligent flick of his hand towards her attire followed a shake of his head, "And only an idiot with a death wish would continue to wear such clothes here."
A rather defensive twitch caught under her left eye and the Princess hissed back too quickly for either of their liking. "I don't think I care to be taunted, Lord Ganondorf. I am not some delicate flower that will wither without shade. I can assure you have had more than enough to drink today, and I'll thank you to grant me the right to dress myself, at least!"
"Zelda—"
"You shall refer to me as Princess Zelda, or your Highness," Turning her petite nose up for good measure, Zelda would lower her parasol in defiance and allow the sun to scorch her freely. "And again, Lord Ganondorf, I am fine. Now, I was informed you wished to show me your thoroughbreds. Shall we?"
In truth, the sensation was already overbearing, and without the slim veil of shadow the small umbrella offered, the dry desert heat beat down without mercy. She could take it. She simply had to—if word got back to her father that she had shed propriety for comfort while in an ambassadorial role, she would never live it down. She represented the very nature of her Kingdom. The Gerudo were not the only ones able to survive such conditions, and that was a fact in the eyes of the King, determined to prove that the Westerners were no better or tougher than a Hylian for it.
Zelda could not yield weakness here, and would bear the heat with dignity and decorum as her father expected, without resorting to the ways of the Gerudo. With war not yet even a decade behind them, strength was a victory Hyrule could not afford to give.
Crystalline eyes were locked with gold as the two leaders sized each other up, a silent challenge issued forth and taken up. After a minute or two, the raw sun was visibly taking its toll, and watching beads of sweat slide down the sides of her face, Ganondorf's frustration piqued.
Flexing fists at his sides and grinding his teeth, he decided better of pushing the stubborn Princess further, and with a deep breath he steadied his temper. He couldn't afford to prove her wrong, where such idiocy would see her dead within the week. Concealing a sneer, the Gerudo would step aside and glance back toward the archery course; the shade of the stables would do her some good, despite the girls efforts to the contrary.
"I swear you haven't the sense you were born with…" He snapped harshly, a rare slip of his usually charmed tones with her as he gestured roughly for her to follow. "Come with me."
Affronted—and careful to conceal her flinch—Zelda glared daggers at the now scowling man. She made no move to walk after him at first, but the dangerous leer he tossed over his broad shoulder stirred her quickly onwards.
Following up the slope that hugged the side of sandy walls, the Princess tried to keep pace with him, silently relieved for the chance to cool down in the stables. By Gods above, she could barely stomach the thought or riding out in such heat—dry mouthed and tired, there was little chance she could mount a horse herself in such attire.
Her feet were heavy beneath her, and though she would not admit it, the Princess had indeed hit her limits. Ganondorf's strides were far larger than her own, and dawdling after him, the strength was quickly leaving her legs altogether. She fumbled over the sand to trip upon tussled fabric, and weary, didn't catch herself in time. Her parasol rolled across the sand as her hands suddenly found themselves half buried by the grains, and the world seemed to spin for the fall. The lazy gusts of wind seemed suddenly more distant than before, her tabard like an oven for the strain of walking uphill and vision blurred by sweat.
She could hardly breathe this thick western air, like fire into the lungs to fill the blood with smoke. The gold of the sand grew white and the ringing within pointed ears came loudly. It was all too overwhelming, as even her father's disapproval waned severely in lieu of burning skin. Politics be damned, she was suffocating within this dress.
The Princess had collapsed quicker than the sensation of being scooped up into muscled arms could register to a hazed mind, effortlessly carried into the cool sanctuary of limestone walls.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
When Zelda woke, streaks of orange had begun to paint the windswept horizon outside her window, evening beckoning a cool change in the air. Laid out on the soft spread of exotic sheets, a groggy blink was enough to tell her she was not in the guest rooms. The bed she rested on utterly dwarfed her form, and to the sensation of generous fabric about her legs, the Princess shifted quickly to sit upright and take in the state of herself.
No bodice, no gloves, no shoes; strange white pants that felt thinner than cotton barely covered her knees, as light as air. Her breasts sat pert and unbound beneath what could only be described as some sort of sash, boldly sporting Gerudo designs and bearing her pale stomach for the world to see. Wide eyed, the shock faded enough for a frantic glance about the room, looking for any sign of the jewelry she was now bereft of and wondering if the thieves would dare to be so bold.
To the left of the large bed were laid out her things, draped haphazardly over a small table, but she didn't notice them there. Her attention fixed fast—like a rabbit caught in the crosshairs—to the Gerudo King sitting beside them, thick brows raised expectantly with a leg crossed over his knee.
And he wore his smirk like a demon catching a glimpse of fresh blood.
"I had almost forgotten how pale you were." He chuckled low, his eyes never leaving hers—they did not wander like other men, she noticed. His fingers drummed rhythmically against the arms of his chair. "You're so skinny, it was hard to find clothes to fit you… luckily, one of my younger daughters was willing to share."
Unable to believe the audacity of him, Zelda stuttered and tried to swallow her horror. Her fury, however, was just beginning to bubble up to the surface as her face flushed again.
"You-! How dare you undress me!?" confusion swirled and cracked in her voice, and squirming quickly to grab a pillow, she would hug it to her chest modestly. "This is unacceptable! Where are my guards? They would never allow this indecency to befall me, what have you done with them!? I-"
A hearty cackle filled the room as he threw his head back, slapping the arm of his chair in mirth. Zelda could only stare, mortified and fearing the worst of him, as Ganondorf struggled to regain his composure and hold some semblance of sincerity before her.
Leaning forward with elbows on his knees, his head hung with the last of his amusement rumbling in his chest, and as Zelda weighed the option of simply screaming out for help, he raised a haughty grin at her.
"They think you and I are out riding in the valley. Another hour, and they'll be joining us in the dining hall none the wiser." he offered quietly, as if it truly was their secret. "Your reputation yet remains intact, as does your health."
Paranoid little thing—what did she expect of him, in the position that he was?
Calming some, but not willing to relinquish the protection of the pillow just yet, the Princess had settled into a bitter frown. Ganondorf had never struck her as a trustworthy sort, but she supposed he was in no position to risk the security of their treaty. Even so, liberties had been taken were they were not appropriate, and by her own fault or not, the knowledge that Ganondorf had seen her naked was unnerving. Regardless of whether he lived surrounded by women, she was not one of his sisters, and so she leveled a finger toward him.
"If you were aiming to spare my dignity, Lord Ganondorf, you've dismally failed!" She huffed, blowing a lock of hair from her face; flustered. "You do me no favours keeping such secrets from my own guard, when they are tasked with my wellbeing! You would save one humiliation to replace it with another… the least you could do is have your kin tend to me! Far better that than the impropriety of undressing me yourself!"
Whether he was aware of the cultural divide in taboos, the Gerudo gave no hint—he made no apologies for disrespecting them if he did know.
"Then you should not have been so stubborn. Your men changed their attire themselves and saved the trouble…" the Gerudo mused with a shrug, eyeing her oddly—it was simply common sense.
"Your foolishness is of no concern to my sisters. They understand what the desert can do, and respect it. You do not… and were it not for status, your own inflexibility would have you dead within the week and nobody would bat an eye. I've done you a greater kindness than most strangers receive here."
Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from seething, the pillow in Zelda's grasp was now suffering a rather crushing hold. Through clenching jaw she spoke more bluntly, razing him with a furious flash of her eyes.
"If my party sees me dressed like this, they will see me as indecent. Their respect for me shall diminish. That is more unacceptable than even the disrobing of my person without consent."
She allowed that to simmer in the cooled air between them, following his gaze as it flicked toward her discarded regalia. "I am a representative of Hyrule. I am not the spoilt and ignorant woman your sisters snicker about under their breath. These things stand as a symbol to them, and to strip me of my clothes is to take my authority with them…"
"Granted, I will always prefer a headstrong woman to the demure wisps of your court…" His grin faded back into the smug curve from before, allowing her to decipher it for herself. "But, baking yourself in the sun until you pass out only proves that you are still a child. So, I've put you into a child's clothes until you grow to fit these ones better."
"You undermine me, then. My father will not reflect upon our treaty well, before these insults."
"Don't be so stiff, Zelda. You're far more comfortable in this outfit, aren't you? Not burdened by all of… this ridiculous fanfare."
A wayward toss of his hand toward her former attire—thickly bunched in the many layers it held—came to bat at the tussled skirts, and the man chuckled again, mischief swimming across the lines of his face.
"If I were to step out of this room entirely nude and go about my business as usual, it would not hinder me in the slightest. My authority would only diminish so far as I allowed it to, and my sisters would see very quickly that what I choose to adorn my body with does nothing to affect the worthiness of the blood within it. I would still be their King, Zelda."
But then, his weathered features softened to take on a more regal calm, considerate as he thumbed the hemming of her gaudy dress. Golden eyes wandered over the embroidery and satin, and without a hint of envy or greed, also perused her jewels.
Zelda watched this silently. She barely registered that he had stopped addressing her by her title, as their conversation had worn on, though the sound of her name coming from a man who had seen her naked suddenly brought the heat back to her face.
"Even so, you lasted much longer than your father did. Though, in all fairness, he wore a ceremonial breastplate when he came..." he clicked his tongue at the memory, brows furrowed. "He never was one to support change, though he often pretends otherwise for the sake of appearances. A pity nobody told him the right to rule is not stitched into your clothes."
Her hold on the pillow lessened, and slowly, the Princess began to listen. She knew she had been foolish. She knew that she deserved her own embarrassment. She knew the Gerudo thought her a grand joke, as pink as the day she came wailing into the world and seemingly just as clueless as she had been then. Their laughter had not bothered her, for the women did nothing to hide such cackling jests at her expense. It was the whispers, breathed amongst her own, belittling the women who lived here for their 'backwards' culture, that Zelda feared.
The desert was harsh, and to survive here required strength and endurance, a constant struggle to be overcome. The toned flesh their clothing revealed could attest to that, though they were not scantily clad for conceit or lesser morals. It was a necessity of their survival, and one they understood very well—she held great respect for that, but it had taken three days of heat to strip her entourage of their prejudice enough for them to share her feelings.
Perhaps if she had set the example, instead of being the last to crack under the heat, there would've been no snickers or whispers or indecencies at all.
Broken from her thoughts as the Gerudo rose from his seat, Zelda found herself at a loss for what to say or do. Humbled by an unlikely source—a man famed for his arrogance advises she, who was supposedly the wiser of the two—it took a good few moments before she gathered her words together, calling out after him as Ganondorf made to leave.
"So… We've been riding in the valley, you said?" Crystalline eyes glanced toward her strewn garments, tugging pensively at the pillow on her lap.
"My stallion put your spoilt mare to shame, and you were so impressed by our horses, you intend to buy one for your own stables. We talked about the silk trade and the possibility of an aqueduct. I find your company bland, and you think I am rude…" Dismissively rolling broad shoulders, Ganondorf barely offered her a second look as he swiped at the fabric serving as his door. "…and Zelda?"
A small smile began to bloom on her chapped lips in humour for the ease of his lie—she knew he couldn't be trusted. "Hm?"
"You're still a ridiculous shade of pink."