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Even weeks after he was gone, Zelda's mind stayed with Link. At breakfast she was wondering where he was and what he was doing; during her lessons she was hoping for his success in finding the Spiritual Stones; through the long hours of court she was contemplating the strange sense of familiarity she'd felt with him. Even before she went to bed each night, she would look out the window across the rolling plains of Hyrule and pray for his safety.
Ganondorf grew ever closer to the king. He'd been at the castle for several weeks now, and Zelda—forbidden from their meetings after she'd attempted to deliver her warning—watched through the window as his flattery and false modesty won over her father's trust. She heard murmurings among the council of the king's corruption and weakness, and despite her love for her father, she had trouble disagreeing.
She was able to avoid Ganondorf himself until one night in the library, where she was reading up on Gerudo history by candlelight. The library was empty but for her and Impa, who was a few sections away, hidden from Zelda's view by the towering shelves. Warm summer air blew in from the window, caressing Zelda's face and delivering the scent of rain, and a deep voice before her asked, "Good book?"
Ganondorf was looming over the table, his voice friendly, his face impassive. Zelda inhaled sharply to call for Impa, but Ganondorf held up a hand and suddenly she couldn't breathe. She brought a hand to her throat, trying desperately to pull oxygen into her lungs, but it was almost like it was sealed tight.
"Now, Princess," Ganondorf chastised as he took a seat across from her, leaning back casually. "All I want is a friendly conversation. Will you promise to be quiet?"
She nodded frantically, and he lowered his hand. Zelda gasped for breath as his magic released her, glaring at him all the while.
"I see you're reading my people's history," Ganondorf mused, reaching across the table to examine the book. "Or, our history as Hylians tell it." His voice was ripe with disgust.
"What do you want?" Zelda demanded. She'd meant to sound fierce, but her voice came out as a frightened squeak instead.
"You are cleverer than your father, aren't you?" he wondered, but never gave her time to answer. "Don't think I haven't seen you watching me at our peace talks."
"They're not peace talks," Zelda argued. "You're trying—"
"Nowhere in this book," Ganondorf interrupted, "will it tell you of the disparities that exist between our people, Princess. This castle—this city—is overflowing with wealth. Not even your poorest citizens go truly hungry. In my homeland, we are choking on nothing but sand."
"Then ask my father for help," she said. It took all of her effort to keep herself from turning around to look for Impa. "You could come to an agreement that would benefit the Gerudo and Hyrule."
Ganondorf just snorted at that. "I am tired of agreements. Tired of half-measures." He slid the book across the table towards Zelda and gave her a smile so hungry that she leaned back in her chair, feeling the wood press against her back. "Like it or not, Princess, your fate is entwined with mine."
"Hello, Lord Ganondorf," came Impa's cool voice as she went to stand beside Zelda's chair. Zelda was so relieved she could have wept.
"Ah, Impa," Ganondorf said unflinchingly as he rose from the table. "It's late. I believe I'll retire to my chambers. Good night, Princess."
Impa glared daggers into the back of his skull as he walked away, then looked down at Zelda. "What was that? Are you all right?"
Zelda shoved the book away from her and locked her fingers together to hide their shaking. "He didn't hurt me," she said, to reassure herself more than Impa. But her heart was hammering in her chest. "But I need to speak to my father."
Where are you, Link?
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"Well," the king sighed in defeat, "if it will truly make you feel better, I supposed a few extra guards won't hurt."
Zelda let out a breath. "You won't regret this, Papa." What she really wanted was to see Ganondorf dragged away in chains, but that didn't seem to be an option anymore. At least her father would be safer now.
She passed the new guards on her way out of her father's study—women with hard eyes and skin darkened by the sun, most of their faces hidden in their helmets. The door swung open from the outside just as she reached it, and there stood Ganondorf in his red cape, with his evil eyes glinting.
"Evening, Princess."
"I thought you had retired," Impa said, her voice brittle.
"The king and I have business to discuss," Ganondorf said, striding past her into the room.
"Go to bed, Zelda," her father called. "I'll see you in the morning."
She stepped out into the dark hallway, one of the guards pulling the door closed. Despite the summer warmth, Zelda felt cold as thunder rumbled overhead. She brushed her hand over her waist, feeling the weight of the Ocarina of Time kept secure under her dress by her belt. She'd been carrying it with her since the day after her nightmare.
The guard had left the door open enough that she could see inside the room through a tiny crack. Ganondorf was walking towards the king, his steps heavy. He was saying something, but it was too quiet for Zelda to hear. When he passed by the torch hanging from the wall, the light made something on his clothes gleam—something metal. Fear shot through her as her eyes darted to the new guards, to the red hair spilling out from under their helmets.
Those guards aren't Hylian, Zelda realized just as Ganondorf pulled out a knife and sliced it across her father's throat.
The scream shot up from her belly, searing through her chest and up her throat until it tore its way out of her lips. The king toppled over, blood spilling down the front of his shirt and onto the carpet, as the Hylian guards shouted in outrage. The false guards, the Gerudo, were lunging for at the Hylians as Impa's hands seized Zelda by the shoulders and pulled her away from the door.
"Run!" her guardian barked, grabbing her arm. Zelda stumbled after her, her mind a jumble of shock.
Sobs ripped from her throat as Impa led down a staircase, several pairs of boots pounding on the stone behind them. There was shouting all over the castle, and the terrible screeching of steel on steel. Thunder crashed again outside. "Impa," she gasped. "We have to go back, they hurt Papa—"
"Faster, Princess!"
Impa slammed through a door and into the kitchens. Servants scattered in surprise as they blew past, dodging tables and barrels; Zelda got a glimpse of their pale, frightened faces. The door to the yard burst open before they reached it; two Gerudo blocked their exit, leveling their spears. "Run!" Impa shouted at the servants as she pushed Zelda behind her, drawing two matching daggers.
When the Gerudo on the right thrust her spear forward, Impa jerked to the side and grabbed the spear in the center, wrenching it out of the woman's grasp and swinging it around to slash it across the Gerudo's chest. Zelda cried out as the other Gerudo drove her spear towards Impa's head, but Impa just ducked to avoid the blade and lunged up, slicing her dagger across the enemy's throat like Ganondorf did to the king. Zelda felt spatters of blood land on her face and clothes, hot and sticky.
Impa sheathed her daggers and took Zelda's hand again. "I'm sorry, Princess," she murmured. Zelda choked down hysteria and stepped over the bodies, following Impa out into the yard and into the pouring rain.
No sooner had they reached the entrance to the stables than more pursuers caught up to them—four of them this time. Impa let go of Zelda's hand again as the Gerudo approached, reaching into her pocket to pull out what looked like a small brown nut. Zelda backed up, shaking, her breath coming fast. "Princess, go to the stables and get a horse," Impa ordered, yelling over the rain. "Any horse, as long as it's sound and strong enough to carry both of us. Then come back here immediately. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Zelda said. Just before she turned to go, Impa hurled the strange nut at her opponents, and it shattered it a loud bang, leaving the Gerudo stumbling and confused.
The stables were dark and quiet, almost a world set apart from the chaos in the castle. Zelda picked up the first saddle she could find, staggering under its weight, and cast a wistful glance to the stall across the aisle. It contained her pony, Daisy, a stocky piebald mare twelve hands high. Zelda wanted more than anything to take her, to feel her familiar gait and hear her gentle wicker, but she was too small to carry Impa.
More tears rolled down her cheeks when she turned away from Daisy to a big white gelding several stalls down. This was Champion, the horse her father loved dearly. Zelda thought back to when she'd been small and her father rode behind her on Champion's back, his arms around her, his laugh carried away by the wind. Zelda pushed open the stall door and offered him her hand to sniff, then stood on her toes to heave the saddle onto his back. Her hands were trembling when she fastened the girth and slipped the bridle over his ears, coaxing the bit into his mouth.
For a moment she just stood there, Champion lipping at her shoulder and breathing warm air down her front. Her father would never ride again. Her father was dead.
Like it or not, Princess, your fate is entwined with mine.
Rage and grief and disbelief collided in her mind. Zelda chose the rage and pushed the rest down. She lifted her chin and tugged on Champion's reins, leading him out of the stables.
Impa was yanking a dagger out of a dead body when Zelda stepped out into the downpour. She looked at Zelda, then at Champion, and nodded in approval. Lacing her fingers together to make a step, Impa hoisted Zelda up into the saddle, then swung up behind her.
The grand doors to the castle slammed open and Ganondorf himself stormed out, his eyes finding them in an instant. He roared orders at his Gerudo as Impa dug her heels into Champion's flanks. Champion took off in his massive, rolling gallop; Zelda clung tight to his mane to stay on, rain pelting her face. Arrows whizzed past them; Impa thrusted the reins into Zelda's hands so she could draw one of her daggers, knocking arrows out of the air.
As they shot over the drawbridge, light exploded against the castle walls, blinding her temporarily—Ganondorf's magic. Thankfully, Champion knew the way, and he kept tearing down the path. Castle Town's streets were empty, with everyone dry and safe inside their homes. That won't last, Zelda realized, her eyes stinging; even though Ganondorf's coup hadn't reached the civilians yet, she felt certain that it would. As they flew past in a blur towards Hyrule Field, she bade her home a final, silent farewell.
"Lower the drawbridge!" Impa called, shouting over a clap of thunder. By some miracle, it lowered—there must have been some loyal Hylian guards left.
Lightning flashed as they raced across the moat, and Zelda caught a glimpse of a small figure in green—Link. Their eyes met and held, and a wordless cry ripped from Zelda's throat. She reached under her dress and pulled out the Ocarina of Time, drawing her arm back and throwing it as hard as she could in his direction.
There was nothing else Zelda could do. She couldn't help him. She couldn't protect her kingdom or her father. She couldn't stop Ganondorf.
All she could do was watch Link disappear from sight as Champion's hooves carried her further and further away from home.
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