The gates of New Castle Town were closed as the invasion approached. It had been one hundred years since Zelda had last seen the drawbridge clamped shut; she wasn't even aware that the mechanisms still worked. She watched through the slits in the curtains as the bridge slowly opened, granting the siege unquestioned passage onto the cobblestones paving the heart of Hyrule's restoration.
No one was outside.
It was afternoon, when children should be coming home from school. The pub would start entertaining small impromptu parties of old acquaintances and new friends. She remembered the flower carts and grilled meat stands out greeting those making their way through another day, the enticing smell of their wares mingling with the burning stove fires and stabled horses. Everything had felt new and fresh and hummed with boundless energy; years of stifling struggle now fueling a kingdom's center astounded by its own existence.
But these streets were cleared. Neatly. The clothiers had tucked their mannequins inside, and the shopkeepers dutifully turned their window signs to CLOSED. This was no sudden Calamity; the town had closed itself up. Tucked in.
As if they were waiting for them.
Her companion in the carriage said nothing, choosing to glower in silence while making sure the glint of her Gerudo Scimitar was never out of Zelda's view. The woman was robed in black silk, her blazing red hair whisked out of her face by a vivid desert-patterned scarf. Everything suggested she was a part of that familiar tribe except her pallor, which was the same chalky gray of Ganondorf. It was a jarring contrast to every other Gerudo she'd ever known, radiating the warmth and beauty of the sun itself.
The invading swarm slowed as it wound through the center of town, around the proud resurrected fountain and up, toward the castle. Zelda leaned forward in the seat, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the entrance, as if it could solve the riddle of how her world had, once again, descended into chaos.
"Sit DOWN," the woman commanded, yanking on the rough ropes binding the Princess's hands together, sending the sharp fibers digging into her skin.
She gasped less at the pain than the shattering of silence. The last words she'd heard were those of Ganondorf, before she'd lost consciousness: There will be no agony for his mind to compare with seeing what you'll become.
She didn't bother pressing with questions. This soldier, even if she had answers, would surely sooner gag her than fill in the blanks. Instead Zelda straightened her body up, pulling herself into the dignified posture of a monarch returning to her home. Even if she was still in last night's tattered nightgown, tied at the wrists, her face feeling puffy and coated in what she could only imagine was an alluring mix of plaster dust and tears. She could bear this, whatever this was, however long an occupation this usurper was able to hold. This victory would be as temporary as it was hollow.
It wasn't until they had cleared the gatehouse that she could hear the storm of confusion and dread descending–baffled shouts and a swelling murmur, a crescendo of horror as whatever sparse Royal Guardsman and soldiers still in the ranks caught their first glimpse of this manifested nightmare. A wildly anxious energy crackled in the air as thousands of hearts seized in the same moment. And then, her own voice booming above it all: "Captain Hoz! Let them through! We have so much to celebrate today."
Zelda's pure bewilderment made the edges of the Gerudo guard's lips tick up, the perk of witnessing the Princess's reactions sending her spirits skyward.
The carriage rolled to a stop, what had to be just short of the Entrance Hall. The Gerudo slid out, cracking the door just a few moments later to slide a bundle of fabric onto the floor. Wordlessly she grabbed Zelda's hands, cleaving them free with one quick swipe of the Scimitar. "Get dressed," she commanded, nodding to the presented heap.
Zelda held up the clothes at arm's length, which unfurled into an ancient Princess of Hyrule's dress. Hand-stitched by Cece herself as part of the From Tunics to Trousers fashion retrospective exhibit, it was almost laughably formal, with intricate Sheikah and Hylian crests embroidered up and down the skirt, and decorative gold armor plates weighing down the sleeves and breast. It must have been the easiest garment to grab from the display and smuggle down into the Trojan horse.
Sensing her hesitation, the warrior scoffed. "Or swear fealty in your nightgown for all I care," she warned, slamming the door for what she knew to be the last time.
In the microscopic privacy of the carriage Zelda peeled off the nightdress, sending the scent of fresh air and grass into the air. The first time they spent a week at the Hateno house, their longest stretch away from the castle, Link had come in from the garden caked with mud. "I didn't think the ground would still be so wet from the rain yesterday, especially with all the sundelions soaking it up," he explained, stripping off the soiled tunic and hood. "Do you have anything that needs to be washed? We should probably set a laundry day, if we're not going back to the castle tonight."
She stared down at the dirty clothes balled up on the kitchen counter, a blush spreading to the tips of her ears.
"Wait. Have you ever done laundry before?" Her embarrassed silence made him smile in spite of himself. It was so rare that he ever truly flustered her.
"I never…well, it always just happened," she admitted. "You must think I'm a useless…" what, exactly? Technical Princess, aspiring historian hermit, make-believe wife? Eons of life, and she still wasn't sure where to plant her feet.
"Hey. It's just me, and I'm here," he said, squeezing her shoulder as he dipped down to her eye level. "We can help each other with things. What I know, what you know, we can put it together and maybe get somewhere."
In the small kitchen he'd found a bar of honey soap, and walked with her downstream of the river. They hung their garments between the trees in the yard, and fell asleep in the grass, watching the fabric rustle in the breeze. Waking up in the caress of afternoon sun, seeing how soft Link's face looked in between dreams, the creases of frustration and responsibility undefined and maybe, here, erasable. That was when she knew, whoever she was, this was home.
She bunched the fabric up to her face, breathing in the fading memory. He can never take that, Link.
The stiff, uncomfortable fabric of the museum dress was barely yanked over her body before the door was flung open once more. The warrior seized Zelda by the forearm and dragged her out of the small carriage door, letting her stumble and fall onto the plush red carpet. A wave of gasps rolled across the crowd packed against the Entrance Hall's soaring columns, the horrified spectators spilling out into the courtyard and ringing the Sanctum–the few Royal Guardsman, the fewer Hylian Soldiers, and every citizen of New Castle Town promised an unforgettable afternoon at the Castle.
The crowd was a blurring horde of drained, slack faces; paralyzed spectators now captive to the slow unfolding spectacle. The soldiers and guards gripped their meager weapons in an uneasy hesitation in the absence of command. The townspeople clung to their partners and children in tightly-packed clusters, intertwining hands and arms as their only defense. Without waiting for her chaperone guard, Zelda stood, her stare fixed ahead through the Sanctum to the throne where the Demon King now sat.
Her gait down the aisle was slow and deliberate, giving each New Castle Town citizen their moment to witness the square of her shoulders, the set of her jaw, the blank expression she passed as fearlessness. Without a word she implored the mass to survive.
In the middle of the stone Triforce inlay marking the center of the Sanctum, a counterfeit version of herself smirked, paired with a false Link to match. "Welcome back, Princess!" announced this cruel, dead-eyed trick of the light. In a flash she was at Zelda's shoulder, gripping her elbows as she leaned that apparition of a head against her own. "Don't worry," she whispered. "We've kept everything nice and warm for you. Including that abandoned throne."
With a shriek of laughter the pair vanished, re-emerging with their Yiga Clan camarades near the throne steps. The rise was thick with Yiga and the not-quite-Gerudo. To their left stood the castle's Captain of the Guard Hoz, his eyes bouncing between the gathered foes, the villain on the throne, and his disheveled Princess in the middle of the towering chamber. He was joined by the four Sages, each covered closely by their own warrior captor.
King Sidon's teeth flashed a seething grimace, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He could scarcely look at Zelda as he funneled all of his rage and uncertainty for the absence of his best friend into Ganondorf, and she could almost see the myriad of calculations running through his head. The projectile angle of his jump, the pressure of the water, the pitch of the stairs, the seconds before the much less lithe King could react. Tulin shrunk back, his parents Teba and Saki hovering behind him. He'd proven himself as nimble and brave beyond his youth, but surrounded by this sprawling court of enemies he seemed small and lost. As usual Yunobo's mouth hung open in wide-eyed mystification, three steps behind the game unfolding before his eyes. All of them were transfixed on the throne and the apparition from their past.
All except Riju.
The Gerudo chief ignored the scourge of her land. Instead, her radiant green eyes stared straight into Zelda's own with a precise, undeniable coldness. She hooked that lock on the Princess as long as she could, making sure her strike of condemnation would not go unnoticed. The ice in Riju's glare surprised her more than anything else in this Sanctum horror show, but as the dagger of its intense blame gored further into her heart, the last seven years of peculiar conversations and creeping distance aligned in stunning clarity. The almost practiced overtures Riju had offered, unsolicited, on the responsibilities of a sovereign. Her miraculous ability to dodge any and all invitations to Hateno, their rare visits relegated to the festivals and occasions here, at the Castle. Link's peculiar agitation when he returned from meeting with his old friend on her desert turf, and the way he'd spend the rest of the day hacking around in the garden, coming back to bed only after Zelda was much too deep asleep to ask questions.
Ganondorf stood from the velvet-tufted throne, and the stone crimson loftwing crest behind him gave the magnificent illusion of his already imposing breadth gaining a wingspan. He regarded the crowd in silence, relishing the heady anticipation that drew the air tight as a drum. "Princess Zelda," he finally said, his voice rising up to the soaring rafters. "You and your people have done a magnificent job of bringing this castle back to its former glory. I especially love these fascinating trinkets you've dug up from across this ruinous land." His right fist unfurled, revealing a gold crown dripping in expertly-set gems. The Dragon's Helm, they'd called it. A gift she had received upon the christening of the new Hyrule Castle and the town, designed and crafted by Gerudo and Goron artisans to showcase the distinct beauty of the north and south. From there it had sat under thick glass in the Royal Library as visitors and schoolchildren passed in awe, awaiting a coronation that had yet to happen. "And yet, how curious to leave such treasures open for anyone to claim." One of his warriors swept in from the wings, plucking the crown from his grasp. He knelt just enough for her to place the jewels upon his thick red mane. "Such a flourishing land deserves a rightful King."
For a moment she felt as if she were plunging underwater. That muffling in her ears, the dizzying panic as the truth pummeled against her.
He's right.
The retreat out into the countryside, the shrinking of the Guard, the disbandment of the Sages and the distraction of their Hero. They had done everything to bury their tragedies, but nothing to prevent them from resurrecting. Victory had felt absolute, and in its wake, they were foolish enough to believe it so.
A revenant kneel rippled out from his closest warriors, down the stairs to the Yiga Clan. From the balcony he stared down at her with the same indulged smirk she had first witnessed so many millennia back. Her people stood behind, their fates hinged on a gesture.
Her right knee met against the stone, the thick linen of the dress offering little buffer. She spread her fingers wide as she pressed her palms into the floor, her hair falling forward from her shoulders to mercifully block out the periphery as the entirety of her kingdom shifted to the floor.
It was quiet enough to hear Ganondorf's remarkably soft footsteps pat down the throne's stairs, the soft clink of his sword in its sheath. The sheer heft of his figure before her blocked out the light as he reached down with a single index finger, tilting her head up by the chin up to face him. "I'm proud of you, dear Princess," he said, just loud enough for her to hear. "You've never been unwise."
"Princess Zelda of Hyrule," he boomed once more, "your Kingdom has denied me my true place within it for ages beyond memory. The monarchy and its subjects deserve no mercy for your continued defiance. But I did not rise again to squander all the potential you and this land hold. I've become less wasteful in time. And chaos is such a weary consultation for splendor." He lifted her to her feet by the elbows, as if rearranging a rag doll. He clasped both her hands in one single grip, his slight squeeze a reminder of the utter fallibility of her bones. "Will you accept your place as my Queen of Hyrule, continuing to inspire your people with your submission to my reign?"
She could practically feel the leaning of the crowd, their strain to hear her reply. The Sages looked on and around, as if still expecting Link to rappel from the arches. Even she, in the pulsating self she now pressed down beneath her heels, held a breath just long enough for the emergence of a miracle. The moment hung in the air, vacant.
"Yes, my King."
How many versions of herself had he known before this one, now caged by his wide, sharpening smile? How many Princesses and Goddesses and Priestesses and Sages had he managed to corner as time kept folding in on itself, the three of them–Power, Wisdom, Courage–cursed to triumph and fall over and over for what, all eternity? How many times had she surrendered? How many times had she sooner died? When would the gods ever have enough?
One simple tug of her wrists and her lips were against his, the softness shocking her with its almost familiarity. In the blur of his closeness he felt absolutely human. Warm, anxious breath and the faint scratch of his beard against her jaw, the faintest groan of satisfaction vibrating from his throat as his hand traced to the small of her back, cementing her against him like a sculpture commissioned in her museum. An image to sear into the memory of Hyrule itself. She froze herself like marble, a slab he could whittle into a vision of whatever it was he seemed so set on possessing.
Long live the king!
Goddess save the queen!
The chorus thrummed from the lofted throne, down the stairs, up and down the columns of the Entrance Hall, vibrating her skull. Over and again, one singular voice of hundreds, incanting her doom.
This, King Sidon decided, was his chance.
In a fluid flourish, the Zora Sage tore the Gerudo Spear from his guard's hands, leaping what felt in the moment the entire height of the arched Sanctum ceiling. The Demon King's monstrous form pulsated with vibrant red energy, and with a facile pivot, caught Sidon by the throat, like a hawk snatching dinner from the air. The apparition seared the vision of malice incarnate into the minds of all gathered, an image to flash with any delusions of resistance.
"Her heart…is not yours…to take!" Sidon managed to declare before his eyes bulged, the sight making Zelda scream in spite of herself. The stolen spear clattered to the floor from Sidon's desperate spasming hands, which Ganondorf tilted down to retrieve.
"Arrogant fool," he cursed with a smirk as he drove the blade straight into his heart.
She could feel her composure quaking as the fresh blood seeped over the stone, running rivers and tributaries along the Triforce's carved grooves. Her legs twitched to run, her hands to claw and tear as the light quickly faded from King Sidon's pupils. An instinct only quelled by the certainty with which she knew, any defiance would send her straight to the floor, her blood and flesh another mess for the King's minions to clean.
"Now that we're clear on our options," he said, turning back to the three standing Sages, "your fates are in your hands. Surrender your Stones and return to your lands in service to your King, or make a show of your misplaced, outdated loyalties. In which case, I'll scrape the spoils from your corpse."
"Tulin!" His mother's voice cracked from the crowd, desperate to claw him from any youthful ambitions of pride. Reluctantly Tulin removed the Secret Stone from around his ankle, sliding it across the floor toward the King. Yunobo silently followed.
Riju reached up to remove the earring containing her Stone, then held it at arm's length toward the Demon King. With a nod to her guard she strode forward in surrender, dropping it into his waiting paw. She lingered between them, narrowing her brow as she regarded the woman whose honor had just lost her dear friend his life. "You seem to have made quite the comfortable arrangement for yourself, haven't you, Queen Zelda?" Her tongue stumbled on the title, practically spitting it out.
Did Riju know that Sidon had put up more of a fight than she herself had? How far could she see into her weak, tired soul before she couldn't stomach it any longer?
Grimacing down at the Chief, Ganondorf curled the Stone up into his hand, churning it to dust in his palm. "One more thing," he said, taking a few deliberate steps toward the crowd. The last two stones crushed under his heels, virtually unnoticed in his gait. He snapped his fingers, and a tall Gerudo woman emerged hesitantly from behind one of the hall columns. With both hands she balanced a blue silk pillow, weighted by a kaleidoscope of sparkling gems. "A special gift of devotion for Hyrule's new Queen."
The woman bearing the treasure brushed against a retreating Riju as she made her way to the King, hanging her head in apology and sidestepping the rivulets of blood. She knelt to present the most ornate necklace Zelda had ever seen, designed with the Hylian royal crest's wings dripping in gold-set jewels fluttering outward from one strange, ominous dark center stone in an emerald cut. Flickering in shades of red and black, it seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it.
"Did you know that you can crystallize Gloom?" Ganondorf asked, brushing the hair from the back of her neck to fasten the glimmering collar. "Polish it, hold it in your hand, lock it around a reincarnated goddess's neck to keep her nuisance of a light power from flaring up." The cursed stone was much heavier than what its size should have allowed, and its closeness to her heart made her feel suddenly dulled and cloudy. A sort of throbbing, numbing grief. "Just in case," he said, combing her hair back into place with his fingers. "Let's walk, darling," he instructed, his hand between her shoulders ushering her forward, around King Sidon's lifeless body and toward the stairs. Next to the throne, a collective of four black-robed Gerudo guards linked behind them forming a small procession, trailed by the Link and Zelda Yigas. The collective continued through to the back passage, ascending the stairs serpentining up the massive central Bell Tower.
The vertical climb gave her the sway of vertigo, and she forced her eyes forward, tunneling in on each red velvet step as it came. Whittling down her world to stair and the hem of her unusually long dress, and the care of each foot forward to keep from tangling up and tumbling to her death as they ascended up toward the clouds.
It wasn't until they reached the top landing of the Observation Room, with its wide circling balcony, that Ganondorf spoke. "The entire kingdom can see us from here," he noted, pointing to the courtyard crowd appearing like tossed confetti along the cobblestones from this, the castle's grandest vista. "The land is vast, but news flies, doesn't it?" He raised his arm, waving to the end of the horizon. From above the castle bell began to ring, resonating brass that made her teeth chatter. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd heard its eternal, rippling chime. The morning her mother died. The Christening Celebration of Hyrule Castle and its town, after its long journey from Tarrey Town and back for its master craftsman rebuild. And now. Today.
My coronation.
The mockery was inescapable. The perfect amber glint of the sunset, bathing the red rocks of Death Mountain and sparkling packed snowdrifts of the Hebra highlands in their most profound possible glory. A slightly muted but rising cheer from the town below rising like steam to buoy the new King's triumphant spirits even higher. Even her strange dress, handmade and drenched with hours of intricate work and research, was intended at heart for such an occasion.
She was still staring down from the edge of the balcony when she heard Ganondorf conferring with the Guard. "The town gates are to remain closed until further notice," he said as they retreated back toward the windows. "There must be a heavily armed presence at any point of ingress; no wagons or carts enter or leave without a thorough search. Anyone attempting to enter must be searched and questioned. Anyone determined to be so much as vaguely suspicious is to be brought into the Gatehouses for more invasive questioning." The Yiga hung on the fringe, taking furious notes in their books as the elite Gerudo nodded in turn. "Escort each remaining Sage back to their village, but leave a robust post at their gates. We'll be surveilling each of them constantly until I'm satisfied with their obedience, and at that point, we'll surveil them even more intently to ensure that my trust is not misplaced. Is that clear?"
"Yes, your Majesty," they replied in unison.
"We'll need a team at every fortification and tower within our borders, and random patrols on the more remote roads and passes. Nothing moves in Hyrule that we don't see. I'll also need someone to head into the Tabantha Frontier tomorrow and extract that newspaper reporter for a visit. We'll need to make sure she understands her place within the realm now. And speaking of roles, this castle hasn't been properly staffed in what, twenty years? See if you can properly compel some of the townspeople to take up new positions in service of their beloved rulers, won't you?" He stretched his arm out like a cat in the late afternoon, shifting between naps. "We all deserve a celebration tonight, but I'm afraid we'll have to wait until we're slightly more settled. I'm headed to my chambers." He chuckled slightly in satisfaction at the notion, the ease at which he could claim every last bit of this fortress.
Zelda turned her back to the vista and inhaled a deep, steadying breath. This was the price she paid for a shot. To bide Link's time. To keep the King distracted and satisfied in a trove of spoils. He strode back through the tower toward the stairs, and she solemnly traced behind in his shadow.
Until he stopped.
"What are you doing?"
The question jolted her out of a resigned daze. "G-going with you?" she stammered, frantically searching his contemptuous scowl as anxiety twisted her stomach.
He turned and crossed his arms, barricading her exit. "Going with me to…the bedchamber? What, exactly, do you intend to do there?" She could feel her cheeks burning so intensely they practically itched with the shame. "What was your plan exactly, to seduce me with this stiff-upper-lip, for-the-good-of-the-kingdom act? You think I want to 'have my way with you' while you're staring up at the ceiling, convincing yourself it's really some lost little knight that's fumbling with you instead? You truly believe that after countless lifetimes, that is the satisfaction that I crave?" He snorted, faintly shaking his head. "You insult me, pet."
One snap of his fingers, and the guards surrounded them. "Take my precious Queen somewhere secure," he commanded. "The Lockup should do nicely."
"No… no!" She screamed as the black silk arms enveloped her, the useless cries muffled and drowned by the tolling castle bell.