The Gerudo were not bad people, Zelda realized. Their cold exterior was for outsiders only, but Zelda had seen the inside – the warm smiles, the pats on the back, stories of adventure and romance told to each other and to children.

They were kind people, but they lacked Hylian modesty. Zelda was most sure of this as she dressed for the day behind a wicker folding blind. Each facet had the Gerudo symbol painted on it in red. It was painted everywhere except for on their clothes. Those awful, awkward clothes…

Even in the most modest clothes the desert people had offered her, Zelda's midriff hung out, calling for the light of day and the eyes of lustful men. But there were none here. Except for Ganondorf. But Zelda wasn't so sure he was lustful so much as attentive to his people.

This wasn't the Sheikah garb she'd grown used to in the past years. But she couldn't wear that. Too hot. The desert sun would eat her alive. Still, would it have killed the Gerudo to at least cover her stomach, if not theirs as well?

"Ganondorf, are you quite sure this is necessary?" Zelda asked as she stepped out from behind the standing blinds.

He raised a brow and looked at her from head to toe. "Is there something wrong with it?

"It's unladylike."

"Unladylike?" A large, booming laugh passed his lips. "You're actually acting like a prude by our standards, Sheik."

"But not by Hylian ones," she reminded him. "Why, if my father and mother could see me now-"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You can change when you leave, but I'm not having you burn alive." He gave a wide, sarcastic swing of the arm towards the window. "Welcome to the desert, princess. There's no need for your disguise here."

She grit her teeth behind a tight-lipped smile. She couldn't tell if he was mocking her or not, but she liked to think he was. It made it easier to be angry at him.

"If you say so," she said with a huff.

"And I do."

Zelda walked barefoot on the clay floor to the open window. The shades were drawn back to invite the warmth and sun in. Outside, tan buildings piled on top of each other. Women sat on the roofs and on boxes by the doors, watching others patrol the land with spear in hand. She doubted it was by choice but habit. They were smiling past their veils, Zelda knew. She'd seen it.

She watched the stunning women with crimson hair and tanned skin with a smile. She once thought the Gerudo were so unclean. She called them ugly names that she'd rather not repeat. Yet here and now, they looked so similar to the guards at her castle. She remembered both so fondly that she couldn't find fault in the desert people.

"They're hard-workers," she nodded.

Ganondorf nodded, a proud smile planted upon his face. "They do. If we don't work, we don't eat."

"Is that a rule of yours?" Zelda asked.

"It's more of a courtesy. We take care of our own here, as well as any guests we bring in." He stood over her, glancing over her shoulder, past her and the window. A thick arm stretched out, pointing at a silhouette far in the distance. It looked almost like a mountain, but the shape was off. More structured. More precise. "Do you see that, Sheik?"

Even when she squinted, she couldn't make out what it was. "Kind of."

"That is the Desert Colossus, a sort of spiritual ground for our people. It is also where my mothers live."

Zelda's mouth opened part way as her face scrunched up. She hesitated to speak. Maybe she was still tired or delirious from fever, but she thought for sure she must have misheard him. Mothers.

"Don't you mean parents?" she asked.

"No. I have two mothers. I'm the only Gerudo male here."

"But surely you were fathered by a Hylian or something-"

"They're not my real mothers," he said, not daring to meet his gaze. But she looked up at him and saw something in his golden eyes, a sadness that she dared not ask about. "My mother died in childbirth. Koume and Kotake took me in as their own."

"Ah." Koume and Kotake must have been sisters, twins maybe. That's why their names were so similar. Perhaps Zelda had been worried for no reason. Still she had to ask. She had to know. "They're sisters, then?"

He graced her question with a loud snort, then laughter. When the barbarous roars settled, he wiped a tear from one of his eyes. "Seriously, princess?"

"What?" she asked, forcing herself to sound civil. She was raised to act proper even when others around her were disrespectful. But, goddesses, did he have to make that so hard?

"You're honestly so hung up on the fact that two women are lovers?"

The dreadful truth came out and churned in Zelda's stomach. The corner of her mouth pulled up in an awkward smile as embarrassed heat warmed her cheeks. "I, um… W-well, it's just not… something we do in Hyrule proper."

He turned from her and headed for the door. Any traces of his smile were gone now, replaced only a neutral expression. At least, Zelda hoped it to be neutral. The angled brows made her worry it was something more negative.

He raised the door curtain above his head, before turning back to face her. His other hand gripped the door frame. "Your people are bigoted, Sheik. You'd be wise to be more accepting of the outside world."

She couldn't bring herself to speak. The outrage sickened her. It enraged her. And yet, it left her silent, mouth hanging open without words to pass it.

Finally, though the words tasted bitter on her tongue, she finally said something to appease him: "I'll do my best."

"I suppose that's a start," he said. "Are you coming?"

"Where to?"

"To meet my mothers, of course. They're easily set off by tardiness, so we'd best be on our way."

Ah, that's right. He had told her they'd be going to see his… mothers, didn't he? He must have sent word to them as well. She only hoped his mothers were capable enough to do something, though she wasn't sure just what Ganondorf expected them to do. She had no better plan in mind.

As she past the curtain, a silky scarf was wrapped around her head, covering much of her hair and curling around the base of her neck.

"Oh, now you think to cover me up," she said, half teasing.

"It's to protect you from the sand, not a matter of so-called modesty," he insisted as he lead her out in the hot desert sun. "Now let's go before we waste any more time here."

She mimicked his mocking arm wave from before, beckoning him onwards. "Well, go on. You know your lands better than I do."

He met her sarcasm with more grace than she'd been able to muster. He simply blinked at her, rolled his eyes once, and headed for the gates to sand-covered wasteland.