4: Table for two
It was nearing the end of the Princess' seventh week in solitary confinement, and true to his word, Ganondorf had seen security tightened to a standard even the royal military would flounder to keep.
His residence within the castle had prompted those serving under him into paranoid alertness, wary of their master's watchful eye and penchant for death. From her window, Zelda had spied new beasts wandering the parapets below—archers and sentries placed at strategic points throughout the castle grounds, doubling the numbers she had seen before.
The guards stationed at her doors did not move from their posts until they were met and relieved by those taking the next shift, eliminating the already slim window she had used to slip by them twice before. No longer did she hear the idle chatter of monsters emerge to fill the hours standing, and through the crack in the lower egress, Zelda noticed they now stood with weapons drawn; ready at every moment. Extra patrol routes had been added to her floor as well, the foreign hiss of reptilian growls echoing up her stairwell at night to cause her great concern as to what unholy demons he had apparently ordered to stalk the halls.
His threat grew empty against such nightmarish mysteries—lost feet seemed a paltry punishment against the horrors she imagined could befall her, caught at the mercy of such creatures.
As if that thought alone wasn't discouragement enough, much to Zelda's chagrin, the Gerudo now appeared in her mirror daily.
Bitter and terse as such visitations were to begin with after the incident in the library, Zelda remained quiet with him the first few days. She wore a cautious calm before him, hiding the remnant anxiety; a part of her genuinely fearful that he could reach through the glass itself at any moment. The Princess knew not how to be meek, but her life had tempered a deep patience that she utilised well. Biting her tongue, his hateful sneers and darkened glares disappeared soundlessly into her depths, absorbed by a porcelain visage that commanded royal stoicism with ease.
Her polite disagreements with him offered little to fan the flames of his ire, and the thoughtful responses she schooled her tongue to give slowly began to smother her enemy's flashes of temper. For his insults, she chose simply to accept them, knowing no true gratification could be gleaned if the poison he spat did not afflict her visibly. His wit stung sharp to prickle, but the Princess expected it of him now, and slowly learned to hide her flinch.
She grew more skilled at deflecting him as the days rolled on, and by the eighth time his golden gaze affixed hers from behind glass, a simple conversation was all either held the energy to muster.
A composed sense of civility had reigned between them since.
Inspired by their first true encounter over a book—and not without jest on his part for her choice—their discussions soon turned to the written word, a neutral and common ground established over literature. His knowledge of Hyrulian history was also quite extensive, as was hers, though Zelda credited this in part to the man's personal involvement in the notable turns of recent eras. Each could spout and correct in each other a plethora of folklore, hypothesising over the origins and where the truth began to blur into fiction.
What impressed her most, however, was perhaps the Gerudo's unlikely knowledge of the arts—able to rattle off the names of artisans and painters, alongside deconstructions of their most influential works, with a speed and passion Zelda could only respect.
Set against the tiresome and lonely quiet of previous days, the Princess found herself enjoying the frequent discourse with her enemy, appreciative if only by contrast.
Where once the idea brought to her by the pilfered novella seemed a distant and vague thing, now it had sharpened into something focussed and potentially attainable, for she could sense that—in some small measure—Ganondorf had begun to enjoy her company as well.
It was a dire risk to travel so far out on a limb, but today, Zelda intended to test her weight upon it, praying that it wouldn't give way beneath her. Amidst the conversation, as the decline of Hyrule's field rabbits in the last century was discussed between them, she allowed her complaint to slip.
"Say what you like of Hylian tastes, Ganondorf. At this point, I confess, the addition of spices is the very last thing on my mind when thinking of roasted meat."
Weathered features would knit together to darken his frown, an incredulous glare flashed her way as he seemed to weigh some distant memory. For a moment, Zelda could've sworn he'd immediately dismissed such a statement from her, apparently clashing with a preconceived expectation as it did. The Gerudo leaned back behind the surface of the mirror, folding the bulk of his arms over his chest plate as golden eyes narrowed.
The lightest wag of his bearded jaw betrayed a question in his mind, added to by the slight arch of a brow. "I can recall many Lords who would've disagreed with you on their importance, Princess..." he offered slowly, cautious in his choice of words. "Or is an unseasoned meal suddenly fit enough for the royal palette, now that you've been stripped of such luxuries?"
An extremely personalised insult wavered hidden in his tone, but Zelda could only guess as to where its origin lay—by his own acknowledgement not minutes before, the Gerudo had never even tasted rabbit. But then, the sliver of pride in his voice while he made such a proclamation suddenly gained subtle meaning. There were many grudges carried over from the last era, most of them small and private things that she noticed seemed synonymous with his time in her forefather's court... this was likely just another bitter memory of his taken out upon her.
She offered a small and enduring smile, holding it for a moment so as to diffuse him. Gloved hands clasped tightly upon her lap all the while, thankfully hidden by the desk.
"I think you understand better than anyone how such things can be taken for granted," she returned calmly, "But I was only intending to make a point of necessity. Indeed, to receive even plainly boiled would seem a luxury now, taken against the gruel you force upon me."
"I suppose you would rather go without it, then?" he gave it sneeringly at first, but within a moment the threat wavered. The corner of his mouth perked up in hint of that cruel smirk he wore best. "I would warn you, Princess, a hunger strike for better food—while amusing in its irony—is an ill advised thought in your current position."
With a chuckle has he glanced her pale and, to his mind, far too slender form, he would snidely add, "You look sickly enough as is without the added strain of starvation."
Without missing a beat, crystalline eyes were levelled toward him in a pointed stare. "Which, of course, is likely due to the exclusion of meat in my current diet."
Fiery brows would twitch with irritation as her tone forced the smirk to recede. Though she had expected him to be defensive, the Gerudo simply inclined his head to offer an indifferent roll of his shoulders. His scowl had returned, though amusement still haunted his timbre.
"All jokes aside, I fail to see how your health should be any concern of mine. You already receive what necessity entitles you to."
Zelda's nose crinkled some for the way he always managed to throw her words back at her, growing tired of such a habit now. It was true that she could survive on the rations he allowed for some time, albeit weaker and prone to ailing conditions. She knew Ganondorf was aware of her own magical prowess, particularly gifted in spells to heal—both knew there was no true risk posed by a deathly illness unless she neglected such self care, allowing it to consume her fully and drain the energy needed to heal. Even were the day to come when suicidal tendencies struck her, the Gerudo was more than capable of intervening himself.
Satin gloved hands clasped tighter in frustration, for she knew she could not bluff him in regards to her surviving such poor conditions.
An appeal to his vanity, then.
"You've made it quite clear that I am a prisoner of war, though I have been cordial with you of my own will..." Zelda allowed a slow and seemingly thoughtful blink to pass, delicate brows furrowed ever so slightly. "I have always held the sentiment that much can be said for how a King treats his prisoners, especially as I've given you little reason to be particularly unkind."
"Indeed it can, insofar as he wishes to be respected or praised for such benevolence." the Gerudo scoffed humorously, a wry half smile betraying the sharp bite of his canines. "But I am a ruler who requires fear. My treatment of the traitors who would stand against me was never intended to send a positive message. The status you hold, Princess, and your surrender are the only things that have earned you such clemency as to be fed at all."
Unable to hide it, Zelda would release a small and controlled sigh, lowering her chin to stare at her hands—if her grip tightened any further now, she would leave her fingers tingling. It was hard to imagine how garnering his affections would sway him at this point, resolute in his decisions as he seemed to be. Ganondorf was not a man easily manipulated, to be sure, but stubbornly she pressed on.
Suppressing a grimace, a terse click of the tongue was given to sharpen her words. "I was under the impression my usefulness to you had not yet run its course?"
"Your usefulness to me, Princess, remains to be seen." A firm glare would cement his statement in place, the bitter flash of his eyes willing her to back down. "It is the use my enemies could make of you, free, that keeps you a 'prisoner of war'... and make no mistake, I am very well aware of the aid you would offer them."
A dangerous silence fell between them then, thickened by the weight of his expression—an innately evil thing to behold, the lines of his face etched in malice enough that Zelda feared the glass may shatter. Though she tried in earnest to hold her gaze, instinct drew it fluttering away and to the side. Fear trailed its way down her spine again, threatening to break her courageous facade with a tell tale shiver as her arms moved to cross in front of her stomach, forming a fragile barrier behind the desk.
Whetting her lips hesitantly, the Princess forced her gaze to rise enough to settle upon his chin—a great effort simply to go that far. A silent and steadying breath was drawn slowly, and humbling her tone, Zelda found it strangely easy to feign slight embarrassment.
"...Then I have only my company to offer." she conceded, fixing the furrow of her brow to suggest hidden hurt. "If you must humiliate me, then I am exposed. In truth, I simply wished to dine with you... I will not trouble you any further with it, now that you've made your stance quite clear." A saddened smile rested dull across her lips, cynical for good measure.
It was her last resort to try and guilt the Gerudo into anything; a man immune to his own conscience was not likely to empathise with a prisoner's loneliness. But then, he was one of very few who could truly appreciate the bitter ache of long haul solitude, divorced from the realm he once knew to be imprisoned within another. Perhaps it was his pity, rather, that she reached to pull upon.
That too, Zelda understood, was near impossible to achieve.
But when he faltered for response, crystalline eyes grew braver, daring to trace his visage once more only to find it stuck in slimly veiled surprise. One crimson brow drifted upwards in silent question, though golden eyes soon narrowed again into a hint of disbelief, scrutinising every inch of her for any signs of treachery. The Princess held only a trace of disappointment visible, willing it to seem genuine as she allowed her shoulders to relax. She watched as he shifted forward, creeping closer behind the glass to peer at her as a grimace spread thin upon his mouth.
Suspicion rolled off of him in waves, though the pensive rap of thick fingers across a bicep betrayed the intrigue she had hoped for.
"That is a uniquely weak willed proposition..." he finally growled, only just rising above a whisper as his gaze sought to trap hers in place. "...for one who so tenaciously clutches to her pride."
It was difficult to find her voice while he looked at her like that; the golden crucible of his eyes seeming to see right down into the bottom of her. Zelda swallowed lightly as her throat seemed to hitch, but with trembling palms firmly pressed to each elbow, she managed to form the illusion of composure.
Thinking her prideful was far better than fearful.
"It is not something easily set aside, no..." she mused honestly, quiet to avoid the cracking of her tone.
His expression remained unchanged, expectant of an explanation—demanding of one, rather—and the Princess decided that only well timed truth would pass. Surely, he would spot her in a lie if she faltered.
"...and I will admit, such a request is partly born of the desire for better quality meals. But also of interaction, and to break the tedium of routine. If you would indulge me, Ganondorf, you must know I am not a solitary creature at heart." Flicking a glance to her surrounds, she would wave limply to the rest of the chamber as she shook her head. "I understand a prisoner is not meant to be fond of their cell, but our conversations each day have become the reprieve that makes it bearable. In all honesty, I wake now in wait of them."
If the Gerudo was moved by her confession in any way, he did not show it in the slightest. The irritable expression he wore had dimmed as she spoke, settling into an unreadable and pensive stare.
She guessed that her wording had struck the cord she aimed for, as he now seemed to be considering them carefully—Zelda could only hope he was not deciding upon a weakness, and thinking on how to isolate her further while still under supervision.
Slowly then, Ganondorf settled back to lean in his seat, firm muscle relaxing into a casual posture once again. It held an air of haughtiness that the Princess disliked, but as the man in her mirror unfurled a hand to toy thoughtfully with his beard, her hopefulness returned. His attention wandered upwards in vague glances, his head lazily tilted, and in that moment he reminded her of a lounging cat who considered his choice between fish and lamb.
With one final stroke of his chin, thick fingers stilled and his gaze snapped back to her sharply.
"If you were in my presence, I suppose I could put my men to more fitting tasks..." he did not concede much, but the corner of his lips flirted heavenward and Zelda knew she had her way. One fiery brow remained arched as the Gerudo concealed his sudden urge to grin. "You wish to dine with me." he repeated then with a chuckle, shaking his head with amusement.
With baited breath, the Princess stared unblinkingly at the glass, silently urging him to give the answer she wanted to hear.
Broad shoulders rolled where he sat, a half hearted shrug tailored toward indifference, but finally, a dismissive flick of his hand would reveal it.
"Very well, Princess. I will... indulge you."
Zelda did not bother to hide the sigh of relief torn from her, her head dipping forward so as to diminish the smile it brought—cunning, happy little curve that it was.
"However..." the rumble broke to see her small victory falter as the Gerudo watched her smugly, taking to a bored lean against his fist. "If I were to set some of the guards to other tasks, certain halls would—of course—be temptingly free for you to sprint down, if you chose to be so bold. Would they not?"
"If I chose to be foolish, you mean?" Zelda straightened, forcibly ridding herself of any hint to conspiracy as she did her best not to look quietly offended—how little credit he gave. Icy lips pursed to aid the subtlety of her glare. "I do not repeat my mistakes, Ganondorf, of that I can assure you."
The devilish grin spread beyond his control then, condescending and full of secrets. "Perhaps, but accidents are often unforeseen. Say you should happen to accidentally wander away from my side; a painting has caught your eye, or even a cutlass mounted upon the wall, and distracted by it you forget yourself..." narrowing his gaze into an almost playful and fleeting squint, he allowed the pause to linger suggestively.
"A mounted cutlass would hardly be an apt choice of weapon, were I planning to be treacherous." she spat tersely, lips drawing thin.
"...Careless, then." he cut her short there—precise and punctual ploys under the guise of carelessness, at least.
As Zelda's visage gained a quizzical frown, Ganondorf's grew darkly coy, offering false concern to mock her. It was a silently knowing thing, like a parent abiding a child's white lie and playing fool to it, only to see what the youth may do to deceive further.
"Those displays are quite sharp. If one isn't careful, they might stand to lose a finger or two..." the feigned furrow of his brow could not be held for long, swiftly replaced by the debauched and sneering grin—one that thirsted as ever for blood spilt. "Better to keep you out of harm's way all together, I would think. You haven't faired so well in fortunes of late, after all."
The Princess did not care for thinly veiled threats, but she weathered the insinuation to replace rolling eyes by plucking a stray hair from her cloak. She dodged the subject of punishments curtly, flicking him a heavy lidded glance.
"Tonight, then?"
He was not disappointed by her response, quick and to the point as it was. Ever practical, he supposed, but he was satisfied on the terms thus far. Left only with the option of assuming she would hold to her best behaviour—if not privately eager to see if the woman would act with haste on some ill-gotten opportunity—Ganondorf's features settled back into the more usual smirk she knew.
His chin shifted to rest within his palm, a finger crossing the corner of his mouth, and he offered a satisfied nod in turn. "Very well. I will send for you when night falls... and provide appropriate attire."
Zelda's gut twisted at that thought, sudden paranoia taking hold as to what he may force her to wear, though outwardly she gave a pleasant grin.
"I look forward to it."
The Gerudo's smirk was bordering on feral as his image finally began to fade, the reflection shimmering across the glass until the Princess was faced with herself once more. The instant she was sure of his absence, her smile had disappeared as well. She had one real chance at this, and there was far more at stake than her health if she failed to appeal.
In the following hours, Zelda would prepare herself to dine not with an evil King, but as she would with a suitor—grooming for both mind and body to seem their best.
Bare feet were nearly numb from the cold of her floor as she paced for much of that time, simply thinking over the various scenarios that may befall her. Wisdom offered strategy to calm raw nerves, paranoia and distrust on high as she considered being alone with the man; to share the same table with him willingly was still somewhat difficult for her to imagine. Even so, it was two birds with one stone—Zelda would have her fill of a proper meal, perhaps even regain some semblance of dignity within herself, all whilst in a prime position to inspect and sway the Gerudo as planned.
Her imagination ran wild with visions of the worst that could come of this, and having finally forced herself to sit and settle at the edge of her bed, the Princess tried in earnest to be rid such thoughts. Still, the fact of the matter was she had little idea on how to flirt or solicit romantic attention, and she had yet to dine without the company of many and the supervision of courtiers to act as a buffer between herself and potential suitors.
She had already dismissed the idea that Ganondorf could be distracted away from the Twili and her heroic charge by conversation alone. If things did indeed go to plan, more and more would be required of her to keep him charmed, and that was only if she managed to capture the Gerudo's affections at all...
Affections, however, seemed a stretch for him. Possessiveness, more likely, or obsession—he regarded her a trophy, and so she would polish herself until her shine caught his eye and held it firmly.
Zelda was modest in nature, though she had been told countless times of the beauty inherited from her mother. The admiration of a female specimen without affection was, to her mind, a very risky business—jealousy, secrecy and lustfulness ruled such a realm, if she were to believe the various romance novels of her youth or the scandals of courtiers and their illegitimate sons.
One of those novels, having started all this, now rested upon her lap as she awaited the knock, open to her and perused for any hint as to how she may act. It was quickly becoming a sort of manual to her inexperience, secretly teaching her the art of a coy smile and the seductive powers held within a heavy lidded side glance. A fleeting brush of one's nails against the back of a man's hand to show fondness. The hidden kiss at the very corner of a woman's mouth as she laughed, flashed boldly before disappearing, and how a man could lose himself in the search to discover it again.
Zelda gleaned a small arsenal of gestures, all designed to trick a man's senses and lure them in close, but the chase could only last so long. Soon enough, the Gerudo would start reaching out to catch his tempting prize, and no amount of demure withdrawal could counter that forever.
Ganondorf did not seem the type to be patient when denied what he wanted.
The longer the Hero took, the more this rouse would require of her to pass... if it passed at all.
Heavy steps began to reach her ears as they echoed from the stairwell, and out of time and options, Zelda stood with a sigh to set the faithful novel aside. She had already started toward her doors when the jarring knock came; a beast's large fist carelessly bashed against the iron.
The sight of the beastly Iron Knuckle standing there gave her pause when she opened them, and the Princess wondered if she would ever become accustomed to the fact that every occupant in her castle now dwarfed her completely. Ganondorf himself stood taller than any man she had known—from what she had seen of him in the flesh—but his monstrous entourage, likewise, served to leave her small and frail beside them, akin to a dormouse skittering amongst cats. Another subtle tactic of intimidation, she supposed, but undeniably effective as trembling hands slipped from iron handles.
Standing stiffly before her, the beast offered only a hint of guttural speech before he thrust a dress forward, waiting for Zelda to take the garment from its place upon his arm. Crystalline eyes lowered toward it, her brows furrowed as she hesitantly took fingers to the fabric—excellent quality it was, too, and softer than she knew such material to be. Holding it up for her own inspection, both she and the beast seemed to silently appraise the dress provided, and Ganondorf's eye for detail did not go unmissed.
A rich maroon in colour, trimmed by gold hems and embroidered with finer stitching than any royal tailor's hand... it was not unlike her usual regalia in styling, long sleeved and simple in its elegance. The Iron Knuckle grunted thoughtfully with a tilt of his head, making his approval known, though more for its own sake than Zelda's—forcing a roll of her eyes before the creature, she swallowed her own appreciation to glare.
"Cliché." She spat quietly, a disapproving click of her tongue given as she turned quickly on her heel. "And such a dark colour does my complexion no favours."
The armoured beast seemed to consider her words for a moment, unaffected by the dismissive tones she took, and shrugged broad shoulders lazily as if there were nothing to be done—indeed, this was what the Master had chosen, and it was that or have her go naked. As Zelda laid out her attire on the bed, she saw no movement in the corner of her vision. With a sigh, she sent the creature another frown. It was a strange thought to wonder if his kind were capable of perverse thought, but she had little intention to disrobe in front of it, either way.
"Do you mind?"
Apparently it didn't; a tilt of its helmet betraying bemusement as it continued to stand there.
Unable to think of anything more, the Princess would wave her hand at the beast. "Shoo."
With a vacant glance toward its greaves, the Iron Knuckle adopted what could only be described as an awkward shuffle backward, retreating behind the threshold of her doors. Unfortunately, that was the extent of its movements, as it made no effort to close them or even have the decency to turn around.
Oh, Din sear it all, the Princess chided internally, I can see why these ones are posted to guard duty.
"When a lady is indecent, a gentleman averts their gaze!" she chastised quickly, razing the poor beast with the cut of her frown. With a small huff of indignity and a few resolute strides, her doors were slammed as forcefully as she could manage, leaving the odd creature to flinch.
Blinking away the last of its surprise—but not the slightest bit of its confusion—the Iron knuckle resigned itself to waiting for the Princess to emerge once again. Not often finding itself in this wing of the castle, the beast had been curious as to what their captive might be like, if not somewhat excited to see a live Hylian woman up close and personal. He had seen the men before, and even fought a few swordsmen of note in his time, but never had he gotten the chance to interact with a female of their kin.
Perhaps he had been fortunate in that. The Master seemed entertained by her, at least, so for the moment the creature assumed she would be far sweeter—like the stories he'd heard—toward a human.
He second guessed that the moment the doors reopened to reveal the scowling Princess, defiling the beautiful dress she now wore with her sour visage. Enduring the bitter leer Zelda offered, the creature—despite his bulk—did its best not to shrink back from her entirely, and unsure, offered a tentative arm in order to escort her. He hoped this would be more in keeping with a gentleman, quickly deciding not to stir her ire further.
Why else would the Master lock her away, if Zelda was not a danger?
At this, the Princess' expression soften as she let loose a sigh, though her indignation stayed visibly upon her features for the dress she'd been forced to wear. Much like the Iron Knuckle had suggested before, a dull resignation coloured her eyes for the fact that this could not be helped, and resentful of her situation, allowed herself to take to the beast's side. Never in her wildest dreams had Zelda expected to be lead around her own home on the arm of a monster, but the quieter part of her mind beckoned gratitude; better to be entwined with armoured elbow than in chains.
Even as they began to descend the stairs, she could hardly keep herself from picking at the dress, watching the graceful sway of the hem as it flowed about her ankles. She knew the Gerudo had assigned magic to its design, tailored only for her, and likely crafted it himself through such means. Indeed, it fit her perfectly, hugging every curve with a discreet sense of respectfulness. The neckline was bold yet tasteful, accentuating the curve of her breast whilst avoiding an overly suggestible cleavage, showing off her slender neck and shoulders. It was as comfortable as it was flattering, easy about the waist and allowing her to breathe; she hated it as much as she adored it, though Zelda was hard pressed to admit this to herself.
The dilemma very nearly threatened to set a twitch to her eye.
Taunting me with a lack of choice, only to present something I myself might have chosen... her mind hissed bitterly as she walked through the halls, venting her frustration internally, I won't allow him the satisfaction of sitting smug. These mind games of his will see little reward.
Even so, Zelda had a game of her own to play, and ultimately, her attire would only serve to help her for the flattering silhouette it gave. Men were malleable before the charm of a woman's beauty, and in the subtle art of seduction, this dress could only prove an asset to her. The Gerudo had played into her hand far too coolly for the Princess' liking however, almost daring her to make her move as if he had already caught onto her gambit, boastful for the fact he would not be swayed by mere looks alone.
Predictable though he may have been, she conceded, Ganondorf was certainly far more clever than the nobility she had previously known... Surely, in more peaceful times, the man had seen at least one or two attempts to be seduced for a share of his power.
But, perhaps her lack of experience in matters of courtship may yet leave her the element of surprise.
By the time the odd pair had neared their destination, the Iron Knuckle had come to a few conclusions of his own, watching the shifting expressions play out quietly upon the Princess' face and trying to figure her out in turn. The inner musings of Zelda's head were a mystery to this poor creature, each minute bringing a new flash of strangeness to her form as he studied her, and unbeknownst to the royal, deemed her more and more unstable. There was a mad glint in her eye like the kind a wolfos held when cornered and separated from its kin, and her mouth ticked to the twitching of fingers in the way they often did before an outburst.
Not knowing what to make of this woman, he was more than a little uncomfortable when they stopped before the dining hall, relieved for the chance to get as far away from her as possible. Not daring to take his gaze from her, the worried beast backed slowly away before gesturing with a slight bow toward the archway, indicating that she was to take her seat at the grand table to be seen from where they stood.
Zelda offered only a curt nod, plucking up her skirts and failing to notice the oddly swift retreat her escort made behind her. Her steps echoed lightly within the vastness of the chamber, but only a few steps in, she noticed the silence it betrayed. The table was set, that she could see—candelabras freshly lit to set the silver shimmering—but nobody sat there to await her.
Almost paranoid, the Princess frowned to scan her surrounds, uneased for her captor's absence. The dining hall itself was bespoke marble, adorned still by tapestries and tenderly painted landscapes, graced by the light of high windows by day and an ornate pair of chandeliers in the evening. A slight swell of relief took her for the familiarity, grateful that it had not been changed since last she set foot here, fearing that such rooms may have even been destroyed during the siege.
Wandering closer to one of the arching windows, Zelda let her hand sweep red curtain further aside, gazing over the eastern portion of her castle fondly—grey skies and yellow clouds still covered it. In truth, she had little idea what state her castle had been in until now, though from the looks of it, structural damage had been thankfully minimal. The violence of the storms she'd seen in earlier days had done little to disturb it either, aside from the odd roofing tile or window.
Turning back toward the long table with a light click of heels, she wondered briefly of Ganondorf's absence, crystalline eyes turning to the ornate chair at its head—reserved for Kings, she knew, as her father had sat there many times before. The Gerudo would not allow her such a place, but perhaps it sat unoccupied to trap her, inviting her rebellion while he waited in the wings to pounce upon such defiance.
How little credit does the man give me?
With another sigh, she allowed the rhythmic click of her shoes to carry her toward the seat adjacent—she wasn't so foolish as to fall for his trickery, but she would not be lowered so much as to be denied the rightful place she had always taken at her father's side.
She would stomach the close proximity it left them.
Smoothing out her dress, she sat patiently to spite him, folding her hands in her lap and hiding the nervous squeeze of her fingers. Ganondorf's tardiness was grating on her nerves, she realised as she began to chew the inside of her cheek. He didn't strike her as the sort to disregard punctuality, and the clockwork precision his army moved with was more than enough evidence to the contrary. Lonely though she may have been, it wasn't that she pined for his presence, but Zelda knew that he would only be late if something more pressing had arisen—he would not risk leaving her unattended without good cause.
After a few minutes, the Princess had stopped bothering to hide her concern, running through the motions of being stood up. Idly toying with a fork at first, she had cycled through leaning an elbow on the hard word and drumming her fingers impatiently, before simply fidgeting to eye the entrance with the intensity of a hawk. Not even the shadow of a monster had been seen since her escort left her; no messenger, no guards. She knew better than to look for them, knowing she was in to lose a finger—at the very least—were she to wander in search of the Gerudo, or even try to return to her tower.
More than that, Zelda worried for the Hero. She could only pray that whatever it was that kept her captor so long had nothing to do with Link's welfare, though this was doubtful. If Ganondorf's attention was not upon her, it was most surely centred on her allies, and that thought alone was enough to have her heart sinking.
Unable to stand it any longer, she stood abruptly to let her chair scrape against the stone.
"This is ridiculous!" she hissed to herself, glaring at her reflection in the silverware, "I will not sit here and have that bastard ignore me!"
"If only I could ignore you, Zelda, my life would be infinitely easier." the deep tone resounded effortlessly in the echoing hall, drawing her gaze to seek its source with a flinch. "Still, I'm surprised to find you so bitter... After all, it is common custom among Hylian nobility to be 'fashionably late', as it were."
It took her a moment to pinpoint him, but as the Gerudo spoke again, Zelda spotted him in the small archway of a vestibule. He leaned against the frame smugly, arms folded over his chest with a dark smirk plastered on his face—an expression she hardly ever saw him without, it seemed. Grimacing, the Princess placed her palms to the wood, narrowing her eyes at him slowly.
"It is never fashionable to be rude." she scolded bluntly, holding a cold look of disapproval even as she lowered back into her seat.
"Then perhaps you should refrain from calling your host a bastard, in future." he returned evenly, arching a fiery brow for good measure—her silence after that pleased him, for he knew she held her tongue between her teeth. Accurate though it may have been, and in more ways than one, he would not be letting such a nickname slip if Zelda was so bold as to use it again.
Uncrossing his arms, the Gerudo would begin to make his way into the hall with a slow gait, amusement playing lightly upon his features as he studied her.
"Even so, I suppose your patience should be commended." He offered absently, rounding to table to lay a large hand upon the back of his chair. "The women in your family always were rather practiced with waiting, whether it be to act, or simply have another act for you. Hereditary, no doubt..."
Her body tensed with the urge to simply rise and slap him, but fortunately, that was an urge she was rather practised with, insofar as suppressing it. Instead, Zelda channelled it neatly with a tight clasping of her hands beneath the table, forcing herself to offer a curt smile as the man drew his cape aside to sit.
"Indeed. Waiting for the opportune moment to arise... having the patience to endure unpleasant men..." she conceded casually, saccharine as she tilted her head toward him. "My name is just the first of many similarities, really... Though I would imagine they were afforded the right to choose their own dresses."
Easing back into his chair, Ganondorf flicked a negligent gaze over the garment in question, returning her false sweetness with a sardonic smile. "Oh, I hardly think so. The last woman to carry your name would have worn her father's clothes, given half the chance."he chuckled wryly then, waving such a notion away. "A pity, really, she would've looked quite fetching with short hair."
"In any case, I have inherited her wisdom, it seems." She held her smile shakily, ignoring the want to glare, "Thus far, I haven't lost a finger to an 'accident' of any kind. It seems your fears were unfounded."
"Perhaps not, but it's early yet. Most accidents do happen within one's home..." he mused then, his amusement fading to be replaced with renewed focus on her appearance.
Almost as if simply to spite her, for the first time that evening, Ganondorf sent what could only be described as an appraising gaze her way, boldly tracing the curves that her dress revealed. It was a slow and appreciative gaze, drawn out for the discomfort he knew she held for being examined in such a way—to leer so openly at a woman was the height of impropriety in Hylian terms. Zelda knew he likely did this simply to unnerve her, but the unknown was swimming in his eyes, and all things considered, she had little idea as to how lustful the man could actually be.
From what she had gleaned of his culture within the library, the Gerudo were not known for being discreet or chaste in the slightest, open in their solicitations and holding no qualms in the fulfillment of desire.
Focussing upon the silverware to distract herself, Zelda fought the blush that threatened to colour her cheeks, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. She tried to hide her unease with conversation, but found the words stumbling from her mouth instead.
"I'm sure I'll manage. I'd be hard pressed to... keep myself occupied without... fingers... what with my reading habits, and all..."
Golden eyes snapped fast to her face then, an odd mixture of surprise and bemusement evident upon his own. It settled quickly into an incredulous stare—though the corner of his mouth ticked to betray humour.
"…Indeed." Was all he could muster, leaning his elbows upon the table and lacing his fingers in front him, resting his chin upon his thumbs.
Noticing the change in his scrutiny, Zelda's brows barely furrowed in return before she realised what she'd implied.
The blush ran rampant to heat her pale skin, flushing even the tips of her ears, and hastily she offered clarification; mortified. "Well, I could hardly turn the pages without the use of my digits, could I? Don't be crude!"
The awkward moment drew a chuckle from him, and Zelda resolved to remain quiet as her gaze dropped to fixate on tightly clasped hands. Still taken aback by it despite any amusement to be had, Ganondorf didn't dare to draw his eye away from her—whether she meant to imply something sexual and then hide behind modesty, or simply fell victim to coincidence, he couldn't know. Given her taste in novels, however, such a ploy was likely not beneath her, and so his suspicion remained.
Either way, he had not expected it from her, and the surprise caught his mind ticking on the Princess' potential cunning. He was right to challenge her with the dress, glancing over her again to hide a smirk behind his hands. If he was right in his hunch that the Princess—with her foot already in the door over dinner—would attempt to charm better treatment out of him, her looks had already failed her and risking the risqué would serve her no better. Shock tactics to a Hylian, perhaps, but to a Gerudo, manipulation was an art form and Zelda was hopelessly outclassed.
With a slight commotion echoing across from the doors to the servant's hall, the royals settled into a reticent wait, listening to the scurrying click of claws against stone flooring as it drew closer. Within moments, the Princess blanched, watching with mild horror as a handful of leather-clad Lizalfos came hissing into the hall, carrying silver platters and trays of food with them in a remarkable feat of agility and balance. She couldn't hide her flinch as one of the foul reptiles slithered up beside her, placing chalices down and filling them with sweet wine.
A harsh, scratchy dialect screeched forth from its jagged teeth, and in response the Gerudo gave a negligent flick of his hand, prompting the creature to leave the bottle before scurrying away with the others. Zelda noted that one or two of them had skittered up the walls further down the hallway, not unlike the tiny lizards she'd often seen in the gardens as a child—this did not bring her comfort, however, suddenly finding such a sight unnerving as she willed her appetite to stay.
Though it defied logic in her mind, the reptilian servants were gone even quicker than they came.
"Could you not have kept some of the castle staff?" she breathed weakly. Peering at the Gerudo with an exasperated look, all the discomfort of what had just transpired written upon her visage, and wondering what might have become of her former servants, silently willed that the question remain rhetorical.
She wouldn't make comment on the wine pilfered from her father's cellar by such beasts.
"I require two things from those who serve me, Zelda: Loyalty, and efficiency." Ganondorf offered then, taking up his drink and holding it close to his nose, "And I highly doubt your former staff would offer me either of them."
His barb fell to the wayside, however, as the Princess' attention had quickly been stolen by the assortment of their spread. Fruit, roasted meats, pudding, wine; crystalline eyes had not seen such fine food in what felt like a small eternity, and Zelda's stomach twisted painfully to remind her of that fact. The mere scent of it all was enough to distract her from her enemy entirely, spices taunting her nose with delicate aromas and tempting her tongue with moist flavour. She very nearly trembled with the want to begin piling her plate full, but decorum and circumstance drew her back quickly, a paranoid glance given to her captor.
She knew better than to touch even the wine without his blessing, lest she risk returning to gruel with only the memory of it all to haunt her.
The Princess was wary of his tricks, but this would be the cruellest yet to fall prey to.
Ganondorf noted her hesitance, curious for it as he bubbled the wine on his tongue, and offered a small nod to invite her to dine—the speed at which Zelda acted upon his permission sent a tingle up his spine. In truth, he had not expected her to be particularly well behaved, given the gracious opportunity to shoot herself in the foot; he had been almost certain she would make a run for the library again, at the very least, when he had allowed her to think him absent.
She's been a fast learner, since our little encounter in the library; internally, he gloated for his small victory here, a dark shade of delight fluttering in his chest. Indeed, the power he seemed to hold over her was far more satisfying than any of the morsels before them.
Leisurely following suit, he straightened to pluck a fork from the table, taking his own plate in hand. Musingly, he probed for conversation, holding back his smirk.
"I see your daily apple is not going astray."
Zelda paused when he said this, having very nearly forgotten him in her rush to cherry-pick the roast. Peering down to notice she had gathered a few slices of apple upon her plate, among the other choices, an odd sense of displacement struck her as she realised what she'd done. She tilted her head, taking a breath as she considered what to say—anything to disarm a comment about her favouring what he'd already provided.
"Conditioning, I suppose." came her honest defence, "It was one of the few decent things I've had to eat since being locked away up there. An apple a day really does seem to keep death at bay, after all."
She sat her full plate in front of her with renewed control, schooling her movements to regain their former grace in order to hide her desperate hunger from his eye. With a flippant sort of smile, ignoring her food a moment more in a show of restraint, slender fingers would seek her chalice instead.
"And grown from the castle's own orchard, no less. It is quite impressive... I've yet to taste the cider tucked away in the cellars, but I suppose there's plenty of time for that."he returned casually, glancing at her only once as he gathered a few strips of meat for himself.
Biting the inside of her cheek as she swallowed her sip, Zelda could hardly keep her features from narrowing into a bitter frown. She lowered her chalice gently, intent on simply ignoring it, but as his mounting sleights began to burn under her skin, the Princess bristled to speak frankly.
"And how fortunate you had the foresight not to burn the orchard to the ground during this occupation... Unless your horrid cohorts decide to break into the cellars for themselves and grow a little too comfortable in their revelry, that is. A little carelessness might well rob you of the chance altogether, but I suppose that is the nature of beasts—"
That sickly sweet smile graced her lips again, haughty. "—to take what they can, destroy it, and then wonder why they are denied any more."
She held his gaze boldly, watching his weathered features darken as she spoke; part of her expected for him to rise from his chair and strike her, though she knew it would be her victory if he did. The Gerudo considered her closely for a moment, something wavering behind his irises, and Zelda braced herself for his ire.
Much to her chagrin, any trace of anger soon left him with a thoughtful wag of his jaw, and then that awful chuckle beckoned her own temper to flare.
"Much the same as you would take my mercy, spit upon it with insults, and then wonder why you've been returned to your tower?"
If a look could strip the skin from one's bones, that was the one he received.
Arching a brow, Ganondorf played her game freely, calm and content to watch her fight to remain unflustered. "More impressive than your orchard still, Zelda, is the fact that you allow your tongue to betray you so openly, even at the risk of being removed." He leveled her with a hard stare as he finished, popping a slice of apple into his mouth with finality enough to leave her silent again.
Plucking up her chalice quickly to recoil, Zelda concealed her sneer behind the rim of it, reticent though more venom seeped up into her throat. She drowned it with the wine, unable to gauge whether her bitterness had lost her any ground with him. She was growing used to his threats of bodily harm, cynical of them and finding they had lost much of their impact with time. Still, she supposed she should count her blessings he hadn't truly moved to make good on any of them, and even now, the Princess didn't intend on pushing the matter.
"Honesty and clear communication is the key to any developing relationship's success." She offered tersely, sour and trying to salvage what she could. She avoided his eyes after that, though the smirk he wore was noted—she'd gotten away with it, at least.
"Such traits have saved you before." Ganondorf conceded, careful to construe his meaning with a squint of golden eyes. Taking a knife to a piece of meat, he clarified it further. "Ridiculous as your efforts may have been, I can't help but wonder what debaucheries that novel contains... A most addictive little quarry, I take it?"
The Princess set her cutlery aside, swallowing her embarrassment to meet him with a decisive twitch of her brow. "An old favourite, if you must know. If you're truly curious, feel free to read it for yourself." She managed a falsely pleasant smile as that small dare lingered between them, narrowly avoiding his question. "In my case, it is more for the sense of nostalgia than its contents... reminds me of a simpler time in my life, before I had read any of the history books you so thoughtfully decided to spring from."
"My timing is impeccable, I know, but coronations always were a terrible bore." Swirling his wine idly, the Gerudo offered her a jaded glance before taking a long draught. "In any case, I would never have picked you as having a taste for such garbage." He said coolly, thick brows rising to await her retort, curious as to whether it would strike a nerve.
Zelda excelled in returning him with a patient smile, enduring as her hands folded upon her lap. "To each their own, Ganondorf. Some of us find interest in such things."the lie came flawlessly, and she took pride as the corner of his mouth ticked to disapprove.
"I see." His voice came stained with sarcasm and distaste, and still baiting her reaction, he rolled his shoulders to dismiss her. "Whatever comforts the weak, I suppose..." he watched her intently as her pleasant demeanor faltered briefly, and her façade threatened to crack once again—she hid it fabulously, he had to commend her, but he was far more familiar with this game than she was.
Waving a hand toward dessert as she seethed, Ganondorf mimicked her saccharine smile. "Pudding, Zelda?"
"Please." grinding the word between her teeth, it came out more aggressively than Zelda liked, but she struggled to cover it with a hummed titter. Though her gaze stuck fast to his hands as he cut and served her a slice, the wild notion crossed her mind to simply pick up her knife and stab the one bearing the holy mark. She knew she'd made very little progress, but when the thought of continuing her plan made every inch of her skin itch, the Princess wavered on whether that was such a drastic loss.
The overwhelming urge to bite something swept over her, but stifling her anger as she could, Zelda decided it was time to strike with the unexpected—clearly, Ganondorf had her cornered, and the evening would end on bitter terms at this rate. She couldn't allow old habits to set her back now that she had come this far.
Smoothing her expression to a faultless calm, she took a delicate hand to the cream, pouring some off before curtly passing it to him. As she did, the Princess leaned closer, stealing a surreptitious glance to be sure he would be caught off guard.
"But, while we're on the subject of romance, I suppose I should ask..." she chanced it carefully, peering at him with all the prying want of a gossip. Greedily drinking up the trace of confusion on his face, she pounced before he could cut her off. "Do you intend to take a wife, during your reign?"
The Gerudo could've choked on his spoon, and caught in the grim hold of suspicion and shock, he returned to her a withering look that spoke volumes on her right to ask. He swallowed his bite slowly, staring the woman down with intensity enough to set her ablaze as his spoon uselessly clattered onto his plate; discarded. Composing himself quickly, he drew dangerously close, golden eyes burning brightly to threaten.
"Of what concern is that to you?" he hissed coldly, daring to pause only inches from her nose.
Zelda held her ground boldly, her heart skipping a beat though her words betrayed none of the fear. "This is my country. I have every right to wonder of its future, and as things currently stand, Ganondorf, that includes your future as well."
The Gerudo's mind ran wild in the search for her angle, turning about everything she'd said to him recently for any clue—the element of surprise had indeed served her well, but Power beckoned paranoia. He had suspected she held ulterior motives, but this was all the confirmation he needed.
Surely, she isn't suggesting...?
Crystalline eyes bored into him harshly, searching for any hint or pattern to decipher of the turmoil sweeping his orderly mind; it was like she'd sent a bombchu crawling under his skin days ago, and had chosen to detonate it now. She was playing her cards close to her chest, and it appeared she was willing to raise him, confident in her hand.
Perhaps he had underestimated her cunning... but regardless, all his chips were on Hyrule already, and he could not afford to fold on a bluff.
He would have to match her.
Shifting his jaw pensively, he inclined his head, growling out a definitive answer.
"No."
The harshness of it seemed to rattle her bones, and suppressing a shiver for how coldly it came, Zelda did not let it discourage her. He may have been resolute, but so too could she be, when she had a goal in mind. Link could not be allowed to fail, and the thought of her Hero's progress allowed her to borrow some of his courage, hiding her nervousness behind a polite smile.
"How unfortunate."she soothed, taking up another spoonful of pudding.
Ganondorf allowed little reprieve, even as he drew slowly back into his seat. "To each their own, Princess." He sneered, the mood for banter well and truly lost. "Some of us hold little interest in such things."
Though their first meal finished in silence, Zelda returned to her quarters with high hopes. It mattered little what he said, for she had seen it shining there in his eyes...
A seed of curiosity had been planted, and with careful watering it would grow quickly, until it blocked out everything else.