The Unusual New Ward

Zelda was five years old when she met him.

She was sitting in the sunlit garden, reading one of her favorite story books, Tales of the Heroes of Hyrule. As young as she was, she was already reading as well as most kids much older than her and even some adults, and not just because she was more privileged being the daughter of the king. She always had a knack for memorization and learning, so reading came to her naturally. She enjoyed reading outdoors in the spring. She could hear the sounds of the bustling city surrounding the castle, so while she was reading tales of faraway lands, she almost felt as if—for a moment—she was actually in the busy market square of a strange village.

Her vivid imagination could take her anywhere she dreamed, but the return to her own stifling world was inevitable, for her world was surrounded by high castle walls. Hyrule was a vast country stretching from mountains to ocean. Most of the time, the places she read about were actual locations in Hyrule, and she wondered if she would ever get to see the many different people she had read about. Instead, all she knew were Hylians like herself. Her father was king over all of Hyrule, which made her a princess, though no one called her Princess Zelda. She was formally Lady Zelda; Impa, her personal guardian and occasional caregiver, said the princess part would come later.

She was just finishing up the story of "The Hero and the Demon," when she heard her name called across the yard. Her pointed ears, visible only at the tips that peeked between long golden locks, perked at the sound. She was used to hearing her name, for her life was a series of duties and appointments, even at her young age. Usually, it was always Impa's firm voice, but not this time. This was a wholly different voice she recognized instantly. How she loved and longed for this voice. The fact that she heard it so rarely made it all the more precious. She turned excitedly to see her father standing at the garden gate.

Without hesitation, she rushed to her father with her book clutched tightly to her chest in both arms. "Daddy!" she exclaimed. Upon reaching him, she let the book fall to the ground and wrapped her arms tightly around his thigh, smashing her cheek against his fine clothes. She shut her eyes and cherished the embrace she knew wouldn't last. She felt her father's hands set upon her shoulders and gently push her back. She opened her eyes as he bent to pick up the discarded storybook. He handed it to her and spoke with a gentle sternness, "Is this how we treat our special things?"

Zelda's face fell as she accepted the book and replied, "No, Father."

"There, there, my little princess," consoled the king. "I have come to ask for your help."

"Really?" Zelda's mirth returned. Her father was usually too busy with grownup duties to spend much time with her. She didn't want much, only to sit on his lap quietly while he worked. It wasn't his undivided attention she craved as much as his presence. But her daddy had a way of keeping her at a distance. She wasn't sure why, but she thought it might have something to do with keeping her safe. That was the reason for everything else in her life. She had a lot of rules about where she could go, what she could do, and when she could do them.

"Come, Zelda." The king turned about and took long, slow strides towards the castle. Zelda, both arms around her book, had to walk quickly to keep up. She counted how many of her steps were needed for every one of his as she watched his brown leather boots meet their mark. She was sure she could fit even her largest doll inside one with room to spare. She noticed he was wearing his maroon velvet surcoat today over his usual white shirt and trousers. She loved the gold embroidery swirling around every hem and seam. She decided he looked far more handsome than any other man alive, but the reason she liked this outfit most was because it was what he wore when all his duties could be done in the castle. It meant he was home and she would get to see him in passing every day in a corridor or the kitchen.

By now they had entered the castle and Zelda's father turned suddenly into one of the several magnificent halls. Zelda nearly bumped into him for lack of attention, but managed to react swiftly enough to keep in step. She couldn't help looking at him, for he was something so dear to her and yet something very mysterious. She felt as though she knew him completely and not at all. She looked at his face, his eyes forward and focused. He breathed heavily through his nose with each step, causing his mustache to vibrate with each puff. She noticed for the first time some streaks of gray on each side of his beard, which were barely visible against his naturally blond color. Though Zelda had never seen pictures of her mother, she was sure her own hair came from him. She didn't get her daddy's ears, though. While his were pointed, like all Hylians, they were short and stubby, not even reaching the ornate circlet on his head.

They rounded another corner, and Zelda came to the realization that he was taking her to the forbidden east wing of the castle. At least, it was forbidden to her. Marching rigidly toward them was Impa, who—in addition to being Zelda's protector—was also captain of the king's guard. Were it not for her piercing eyes and commanding voice, Impa would seem like very little threat to anyone, but she had a way of making herself larger than life. Impa's long straight hair swayed in rhythm as she approached, its pure white color contrasting her dark blue uniform. The hall was lined with mirrors from end to end, and it seemed as if a whole army of Impas was approaching, which Zelda found amusing. She remembered being afraid of her at first, but despite her hard exterior, in private she was the mother Zelda would never have. Still, royal formality trumped maternal warmth, so when the two parties joined in the hall's middle, Impa merely acknowledged Zelda with a short glance of her gray eyes before addressing her king.

"Good day, your highness," said Impa. Choosing her words carefully she added, "The, uh, ward is in his quarters."

"Good. I would like us to pay him a visit."

Impa raised an eyebrow at this. "All of us, sire?"

"Yes, Captain, my daughter included."

Impa gestured toward the end of corridor with her head and said, "Sire, may I please have a private word with you?"

"Of course," said the king with a slight trace of exasperation. He turned to his daughter saying, "Zelda, please wait here," and the two of them turned their backs to her and walked down the hall talking in whispers. From behind, Zelda noticed Impa's ears were much longer and more tapered than her father's, and they jutted straight outward rather than being upward and closer to the head, a unique trait of the Sheikah. "The Shiekah," Impa had once told her, "are closely related to the Hylians. The Hylians are very wise and peaceful while the Sheikah are very knowledgeable about the secret things of Hyrule. They are great warriors, too, not because they fight with great weapons, but because they fight with great know-how." The Sheikah could always be found at the king's side, and Impa had been at Father's side for many years. He trusted her more than anyone, which is why she got away with questioning his decisions.

Zelda occupied herself with the hall of mirrors and smiled at the sight of herself repeating on and on. She set her book on a nearby seat and engaged in several amusing poses. She had once read about the intricate dances of the Zora, a water-dwelling people to the north, who would dazzle their audiences by dancing in perfect synchronization. She twirled in her aqua-colored play dress and the imaginary audience roared with applause. The show was interrupted by her father's voice echoing down the hall, "...I am perfectly aware of the risk!" It wasn't the first time Father lost patience with Impa, and it wouldn't be the last.

Zelda sat in the seat next to her book and watched them. They had lowered their voices again, but Zelda could tell they were still arguing. She was now very curious about what it was her father had in mind for her to do. She wanted to help, but was he really going to ask her to do something dangerous? Not that she really cared; being with her father made her happier than anything else. She would fight monsters with him if he asked her, just as the Hero did in her storybook.

"Zelda, come here," called her father. She picked up her book and skipped happily towards him. "Propriety, my dear," he reminded her, and she slowed to a walk and straightened her posture. Being proper was another rule. She was usually pretty good at it, but sometimes skipping seemed to be the proper thing. Some things were more difficult to understand than others and grownups' ideas of what was good and proper was one of them. Still, she was never one to disobey. The wisdom of respecting the rules of those in charge was something few ordinary five-year-olds grasped, but Zelda was far from ordinary.

When she caught up with her father, he and Impa immediately turned down the next hall, and she followed behind them. This hall had no mirrors. Instead, it was very dreary and seemed to grow darker the further they proceeded. Zelda peered ahead and saw that the hall came to a dead end at a single iron door. Two soldiers stood stiffly on either side of it. It had a small opening so the soldiers could see inside and a large iron beam locked it close. Zelda had never seen a prison door, but she was certain she was seeing one for the first time. She swallowed hard.

As they drew nearer, Impa nodded and the guards removed the bar, leaned it against the wall, opened the door, and resumed their post. Zelda listened hard for sounds of danger, but none came. She looked up to see her father's hand extended to her. Determined to be brave, she took his hand, and the three of them stepped inside.

The room was completely empty of furnishings or decoration, nothing but stone from end to end and top to bottom. On the wall to her left were two barred windows, allowing light and fresh air into the room, but without windows on any of the other walls, the room was dark and depressing. There didn't seem to be anyone else in the room, and Zelda began to think her father had played a joke on her until she heard the faintest sound coming from the far right corner. It was easily the darkest place in the room, perfect for hiding.

Zelda looked apprehensively up at her father. "Go ahead, you are safe," he assured her. Trusting him, she walked slowly toward the shadowy corner. As she did so, she realized she was hearing the sounds of breathing. She couldn't quite put her finger on why, but it sounded young, not like the heavy breathing of adults with too much worry on their minds. She stopped some distance from the shadow and said, "Hello?"

There was no answer.

"My name is Zelda," she said invitingly. Still, no response came.

She didn't trust the invisible tenant enough to enter into the shadow, but she realized he—or she—wouldn't be any more likely to trust her either. Instead, she sat down on the hard, cold floor and opened her book in her lap. "I'm going to read you a story," she said brightly, hoping the guest would see how friendly she really was. "It's about a brave hero who travels to a magical land to defeat a scary monster." She opened the book and began to read the story aloud. As always, she was drawn deeply into the imaginary tale and lost all awareness of the world around her. She read about the hero's journey to the magical land, his climb up the temple stairs, and the horrifying sight of the damsel laid sacrificially upon an altar. She was getting to the part about the hero's mighty duel with the beast when she was interrupted by a voice. "Ganondorf," it said.

"Excuse me?" she responded and looked up to see a boy, about her age, sitting before her. She was taken aback by his striking features. He was thick and strong for a boy so young. His skin was dark greenish gray which starkly contrasted his fiery orange hair. She wondered how long he had been sitting there during her story.

"My name… It's Ganondorf," the boy repeated.

Zelda stared at him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Zelda replied, "No. Nothing is wrong. I've just never seen anyone like you before."

"Do I frighten you?"

"No," she said sincerely. "I think you are very special." She reached out her hand, "Nice to meet you, Ganondorf. Would you like to be friends?"

After glancing warily at the others in the room, he shook her hand and said, "Okay, friends."

"Do you think she will have a positive influence on him?" asked Impa when she and the king were outside the prison door.

King Harkinian watched the two children sitting in the center of the prison chamber, talking and smiling. "She is Hylian royalty," he said. "Either she will tame him or make him forget who he is."

"And who exactly is he, besides a frightened boy?" asked Impa directly.

"Do not let his childlike countenance fool you. Every boy is born with a spark of destiny. This one, I'm afraid to say, was born to become a monster," said the king as he stared at Ganondorf intently.

"And you intend to divert destiny from its predetermined course?"

"I intend to do everything in my power to prevent any and all destruction that might befall Hyrule."

"What makes you so sure this child will do such a thing?"

The king looked at Impa and retorted, "You need not concern yourself with matters such as these. My duty is to prevent evil from encroaching upon our homes and our people, which I can only do with trained soldiers at my side. As Royal Captain of the Guard, that is your duty. So, I will handle Ganon, you handle my army. Agreed?"

"Ganondorf, sire," corrected Impa. "The boy's name is Ganondorf."

"Right," he said, though he didn't seem to care. "Now, I have pressing matters to which I must attend. Please escort my daughter back to her quarters before dinner." With that he took his leave.

Impa pleaded to his back, "Perhaps you should visit the temple and ask the Goddesses for their forgiveness. Beseech them for their aid."

The king stopped short and said over his shoulder, "The Goddesses, Captain? They will not help us. I learned long ago how little they care for our plight." He continued his stride and added loudly, "I don't need gods, Captain. I need heroes."