Chapter 4: The Gathering Storm

There was something deeply troubling about how the people of Hyrule treated royalty. Before he had memories, Ganondorf's mothers presented him before the Gerudo Matrons and declared him king. But in the desert even as king he fought on the front lines, cooked his own food, cared for his own equipment, and stood watch at night. People treated him with more deference and respect, but it was nothing compared to how the Hylians treated him now.

As he walked through the palace strategically placed guards opened and closed doors in his wake, as if the doorhandles would defile him if he touched them. Servants infested every room, hanging on his every word. Nabooru had enjoyed making them fetch drinks at all hours, but Gan only found them unsettling. Now, on the day he planned to leave, knight and servant, cook and squire, all gathered around. Following him in some grand procession through the main arched doors and down the steps leading to the road through the castle gate.

At the bottom of the steps his horse, Storm, already stood prepared and waiting for him, with packs secured and a groomsman holding his reins. Neither Storm nor the groomsman looked happy about it.

"Sarqso," Gan said to the stablehand.

The poor man did not notice, instead focused on the destrier. The horse bared his teeth and lifted his front hoof as though trying to get an angle to kick him. Though Storm didn't lash out, his threat lingered. He did not like being touched by others.

Ganondorf took the reins from the man, who jumped to get away. "Calm yourself," Gan whispered to his horse, low and friendly. "It's only me, no one else is going to ride you." The great black destrier had a foul temper that served him well charging into the battlefield. Just like him in a way. The first gift from his mothers he had ever received, a horse worthy of a warrior-king they had told him. If Gan could tame him.

Gan waited for the horse to stop his stomping, offering gentle words when he thought Storm would listen. When the horse's ears lifted, Gan rubbed his nose. Once he was certain the horse was calmed, he mounted the warsteed. Around him, the rest of his sisters found their own horses. Hylian servants and warriors walked among them, laughing with each other. How quick they were to forget all the conflict between their people. Or at least, pretend to forget.

"You sure none of us can come along, eh?" One Hylian named Ralph approached Ganondorf with a smile. He wore the cuirass and helmet of a guard. To the Hylians he was a common man, not a knight of noble lineage. Yet every day in the training yard, Gan noticed him watching the bouts between the Hylian Knights and Gerudo singers. After some days, Gan asked if he wished to join them, more out of boredom. One could only face the same voe so many times before learning all they had to offer.

Somehow, Ralph mistook getting beaten bloody with blunted swords as a sign of friendship.

"We could all use a good hunt," Sir Bennison a barrel-chested knight with a crooked nose stood beside the guard. "Our own king has largely given up the pastime."

"Would that I could take you," Ganondorf forced a smile to the pair. "But this hunt is in honor of our ancestors. Only my fellow Gerudo can partake."

"Very well, I'll stop pestering you," Bennison said. "Try to have some fun, though, aye?"

Ganondorf reached down from Storm to clasp Bennison's extended arm. "When I return, I'll see about organizing a real hunt. For all the great warriors of Hyrule."

Some of the nearby knights cheered, and even a few of his sisters took up the rally. Over the weeks at the castle he had bled each of the knights in the training yard, shared meat and drink, and slept beneath the same roof. Among the Gerudo that would make them friends, or sisters in arms. And yet he offered them false smiles and untrue words as if they meant nothing. As easy as breathing.

My mothers would be proud of that.

"Gerudo King!" came a booming voice atop the stairs. King Liotidos of Hyrule stood in ceremonial robes, his hand raised. "I would ask you not to empty my entire castle of knights." He smiled wide, as though he truly was happy to speak to him.

"My king! I did not expect to see you before I left."

"A king should see his loyal vassal off with the respect he deserves. When can I expect your return?"

"It depends on the portents of the ancestors. Usually, it doesn't take more than a few weeks." More lies and these easier still. The bloated fool expected nothing. If he had ever been a worthy king, those days were long gone. Fat from feasts and simple of mind. Not once did he take part in the training yard, instead wasting his days on fools complaining about insignificant grievances as he held court daily. And when not presiding over court he listened to supposedly wise councilors who claimed deep knowledge they clearly did not possess.

The fat oaf smiled. "Then I wish your hunt fruitful, and your ancestors pleased!"

"Thank you, my king!"

Two of Gan's captains, Bethmasse and Desquesza, ordered the rest of his guard to stop wasting time and take to their saddles. All his sisters obeyed. Well, all except one. Nabooru had her hand on the saddle, yet made no effort to mount. Instead, he spoke to the Hylian beside her. Sir Jora, the one who tried to shield the king with his body when Gan made his entrance with the princess days before.

"I will count the days until we meet again, Lady Nabooru," the knight took Nabs' hand and kissed it.

Nabooru let out a giggle, her eyes not leaving the man. "Oh, no. And… I will too."

Behind her, Desquesza coughed, making Nabs turn and scowl before looking back to the knight. "When I return we shall have a rematch."

"I look forward to it, though I doubt I will get lucky a second time."

Nabooru finally put her foot in the stirrup. And despite having mounted and dismounted the horse a thousand times or more, the knight seemed to think she needed help. Still holding her hand, he lifted her until she sat tall on her horse. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. Fair well, my lady."

Ganondorf sighed as she finally let go of the voe's hand and rode to his side at the head of the procession.

"You ready?" He asked.

"Yes."

"You certain? We can wait longer. Have a lunch."

"Just get on with it."

Gan chuckled to himself before he looked back to the King of Hyrule. He nudged Storm to get the warhorse to rear up. While he did, Ganondorf raised his sword in a salute. "For the King and a United Hyrule!"

That got the crowd cheering, louder even than the horns that blared as he led his honor guard out of the castle gates and into the city.

"That went well," he said to Nabs once they were well away from the king and his court of fools.

"Mmm."

"Dessi says the two of you have our route planned."

"Mmm."

"Nabs! I'm talking- by the Goddesses are you still thinking about the knight?"

"What? No."

"You're blushing."

"Shut up. It's nothing." But the red of her cheeks grew even brighter. "Just a bit of fun."

"Of course. A bit of fun… with a knight."

"What? He's pretty. "

"When did you start caring about pretty?"

"Just because my best friend had the misfortune of being born with a coyote's snout for a nose doesn't mean I can't enjoy pretty."

"Well, that just felt unnecessary."

"Well, don't poke that thing into my love life then."

He laughed, but a few times as they rode through the streets Gan tried to go over some details of their plan. Each time Nabooru seemed distracted, giving barely any answer longer than her earlier grunts. Several times he caught her sighing, or smiling at nothing.

"Sands take you, you're still thinking about him."

"How can I not! He's not just pretty, he's brave too. Remember the third day at Sotari Pass?"

"Third day? When you took a lance and we all thought you were going to die? That day?"

"Yes. He was the one that got me!" And for some reason the thought made her smile all the wider. "Once you signed the treaty, he came to me and apologized. It was the sweetest thing I've ever seen."

Ganondorf could only shake his head. "One of us is going mad. And for once, I'm certain it's not me."

"Oh shut up."

"Have your fun, Nabs. But remember what we are doing. Don't get distracted and forget all they've done to us."

Nabooru sighed and looked back at the castle, before finally meeting Ganondorf's eyes. "I will never forget. I'm with you, until the end. And a pretty face won't change that."

It took over a week's hard ride before they reached the end of the grassland and the start of the cliffs. The deep clouds cast shadows over the ground, half covering the crude signpost the Moblins used to mark their territory. At its base lay a human skull, torn apart by birds and flies. From the splotch of dried brown blood at the top of the wooden plaque it was clear the skull once stood atop it. Fresh. The scratches on the plaque may once have been words but now the rotted wood and blood left it illegible.

Beasts, the lot of them. The most vile of creatures under the sun. Gan took a deep breath as he thought of his sisters sent as messengers to the Moblins. Boszura, who enjoyed dancing before every battle, and Tressa, who would rather write her poetry than hold a bow or sword but did her duty all the same. Would they have gone if they knew what awaited them?

Nabs walked over to the skull and frowned. "I'm getting a suspicion this is the place." She looked back over at Ganondorf, "You certain about this? Moblins are as likely to eat us as they are to listen."

Ganondorf sighed. "Get it out now. But don't speak that way in front of our hosts."

"I'm no fool. But I'm telling you, this is a bad idea."

"Noted." Gan dismounted Storm, and the rest of his warriors did the same. He ordered two of his guards to stay behind and tend to the horses as the rest entered the Moblin territory. He led his people with confident steps, always looking ahead. Hoping that his sisters did not notice the beating in his chest.

So much relied on this meeting. He hoped the creatures would listen to reason, though he knew how ridiculous that sounded. If they didn't things would need to go precisely right. One wrong move would mean his end, and more important, the end of his dream.

He whispered to Nabooru. "When the fight breaks out. Don't attack the chief."

"What?" She hissed back to him. "I thought we were forming an alliance? Why will there be a fight?"

"They're Moblins," Ganondorf shrugged. "Of course, there will be a fight. But there is a way this needs to happen. Just be respectful, until I give the signal. You hear that everyone?" He called over his shoulder to the rest of his warriors.

A dozen Gerudo raiders, in their light battle armor with bows over their shoulders and swords at their side all called their agreement.

"And try not to kill too many of them."

"I'll make no such promise," Nabooru muttered.

There was no beauty in the Moblin territory. Shuttered off into the caverns and low places between the lands carved out by their betters. If there was one creature that may have a rougher life than a Gerudo, it would be these Moblins.

Ganondorf's lip curled as he stepped over a half-eaten carcass. Of course, the difference is the Moblins deserve it. Their lands had fertile soil and enough space to clear for farmland. But the beasts cared only for killing. In silence, they walked to the hide and bone huts and the guard of the grotesque creatures that waited for them.

"Gerudo," one of the Moblin guards stepped forward. He stood tall, near of a height with Gan, with puffed-out cheeks and drooping ears. Saliva dribbled down its chin onto armor cobbled together from mismatched pieces. A Hylian knight's breastplate overtop a Gerudo's riding leathers all broken and ripped with crude stitched furs holding them together. "My master welcomes you."

"Has Moqut gathered all those he claimed?"

"I cannot say," the beast snorted. "I do not know who he claimed. But over the last few days, several tribes of Octorok, Lizalfos, and even a Dodongo have come."

No mention of Bokoblins, or Goriya? Not the ruin of his plan by any means, but the absence of the Lynel stung. "They will have to do. Take me to your warchief."

Nabooru stepped to Ganondorf's side as the Moblins paraded them through the cluster of hovels and huts. "I thought we were just meeting one Moblin tribe?" she hissed.

"I never said that."

"One tribe we can take. You expect violence will break out when we have all of them to deal with? We don't have enough warriors to handle them all."

"Nabs," Ganondorf gave her a confident smile. "Trust me."

SHE DOUBTS YOU. SHE SHOULD BE PUNISHED.

Ganondorf let that dark part of him roll over him. Always wanting to lash out at everyone and everything, since the day he'd been born. Ignore it. Focus. There would be a time to let those impulses loose, in battle they pushed him to greatness. He'd let them run wild soon, but not yet. He forced those feelings down deep where they could not get in the way. Don't let my base desires control me. I am king.

Ganondorf could hear the congregation of monsters far before the guards brought them to the massive fire where the leaders sat. All the creatures forced into the dark parts of the world sat together. All Gan's guide had mentioned and more, hundreds of them, perhaps thousands by the look of the distant flames.

The great brute that many called the King Dodongo lay on the ground. Even after all his research, Ganondorf was uncertain if the creature was intelligent. It stretched like a hound before it settled its head close to the fire. Various chiefs of the Lizalfos sat pruning their vivid scales. While Moblins of different shapes and sizes sat each trying to look stronger than those beside them.

And in front of them all, on the highest throne of a chair sat one grey-skinned Moblin, massive, with a full belly, but arms and legs that showed his waist hid muscle underneath. He covered his face with a great steel helm shaped like a Dodongo skull. Where the rest of the Moblins wore rags or scavenged equipment all chipped and misshapen, he wore armor along his arm and chest made by a smith of some skill.

"Chief Moqut the Thrice-Cursed," Ganondorf called to the Moblin and nodded his respect. "It is good to finally meet you."

"King of Gerudo - no, that is wrong now isn't it?" The Moblin's laugh echoed from his helmet. "A king who gave up his throne. What does that make you? Just a man like any other."

Ganondorf glanced over to Nabs. Her jaw clenched and nose flared. Good, she was at least holding in her anger. "I had hoped, mighty chief that we would speak to each other with more civility. You clearly received my message, but where are Boszura and Tressa? Where are the messengers?"

"I received them. And I read the words you gave them. What did the scrap of paper say? That I should pledge myself to you? You? You, the Gerudo that lost the war of your ancestors?"

"I ended a war, I did not lose it."

"Ended? Hah!" Moqut waved aside the word as though it were a fly. "Did you conquer the Hylians? No. You bowed to them. You cannot hide failures behind clever words," the Moblin leaned forward on his throne, his eyes wide and gleaming beneath his helm. "Clever words get you nothing. You are too weak to beat the Hylians. You are too weak to rule Moblins." The crowd about them hollered and cheered at their chief's words.

Ganondorf let out a long breath. He couldn't lose his temper yet. Slaying the creature now made him look an assassin. Say what you will about the Moblins, they were not the wretched Sheikah. They respected strength, not murder. Gan looked around the fire at the kings and chieftains of a dozen clans. "How many are you now? Thousands? As numerous as the Hylians? Perhaps all the Hylians and Gerudo? More? And yet where do you live? Under trees and mountains, underfed and dying quick. That is what you get with your tribal leaders who don't deserve to call themselves chief much less king."

"What are you doing?" Moqut said. "You're talking to me, not them. I'm the one that beat Grollump the Limper. I'm the one who brought them the heart of the Big Goron."

"He has brought you nothing but empty bellies and cold homes. Join me, and you will be lifted higher than any Hylian. Free to take what you want from those people that hunted you down for all your lives."

"More clever words," Moqut cried. "But remember the weakness of the Gerudo! Bring them out!"

From behind the Moblin Throne, four warriors ran forth carrying two heavy chests. They stopped before Ganondorf and dropped them with a loud thunk.

"This is all the Gerudo Man offers."

The warriors kicked over the chests, and bones rolled out. Bones with meat and blood still dripping off them. Just as he feared. I'm sorry my sisters. You gave your lives to a glorious cause. I will not let you die in vain.

"Your messengers were tough and sour," Moqut laughed and patted his belly. "There is my answer to your proposal, Man of the Gerudo."

Nabooru stepped forward, her sword already in her hand. Her hate-filled eyes focused on the Moblin.

Ganondorf held out his arm to block her path. "Not yet," he whispered.

"Then hurry up and get to it," Nabs hissed.

"Unlike you," Moqut shouted. "I will not give up my lands. I do not bow."

Gan looked once more over the crowd. "What lands? These barren rocks? How would you like to join a leader who won lands from the Hylians before and will again? How would you like to have Hylians bring you food? How would you like to sleep in their stone halls? All this and more could be yours if you remove the shackles that tie you to this coward."

"Coward?" the chief screeched. But the crowd listened to Gan, not him.

"You deserve a ruler who will take you to victory. Not over two unarmed messengers, but real knights of Hyrule."

"Guards. Silence them!"

Behind him, Ganondorf heard the Moblins who led them to the meeting rush forward. "Nabs," was all he needed to say before he heard the clash of steel and the war cries of his guards.

He stepped forward his arms held out. "You think me weak, Thrice-Cursed?" In his hand, the massive black greatsword of the Gerudo Kings appeared. "You claim yourself no craven. Prove it! Let us test our strength."

The Moblin chief screamed and jumped from his throne. Three knives flew through the air before he even hit the ground. One went wide, one Ganondorf cut through the air with his blade, but the last struck him under the arm and rattled against his breastplate.

Ganondorf reached for Moqut while the creature still righted itself from its leap. But the Moblin moved fast for his bulk. Another of his kind threw out a heavy maul, which the chief snatched from the air as though it were nothing.

"I am strong!" Moqut screamed and lashed at Ganondorf with the maul. "I am strongest! I am chief!"

But wherever the weapon went, Ganondorf's blade met it. The Moblin was strong, but after the second parry, Ganondorf knew he was stronger. The Moblin was fast, but Ganondorf had faced faster foes in his years of war, and none had bested him yet.

"You wish to know what to call me." Ganondorf smashed the Moblin's weapon down and struck him in the gut with his elbow. The maul spun away as the chief howled and fell back. Around them, the screams of slaughtered Moblins sounded as beautiful as the finest music. Their dying cries may as well be a chorus praising his name.

"A weapon!" Moqut shouted. "Give me a weapon!"

"I am the last son of the desert." He stomped on the Moblin's thick ankle and felt it snap beneath his boot. "I am the scourge of all who defy me."

Moqut managed to get his hands on another small blade and thrust. Though still on his back there was no force behind the blow. Ganondorf smacked it aside with the back of his gauntlet.

"I am the son of the Twinrova and their greatest student." He willed witch-fire into his hand, the black flame swirled around his fingers. His soul sang as power coursed through him. "I am the greatest of the Gerudo, the fiercest warriors to ever walk beneath the sun!"

THIS IS WHAT YOU WERE BORN TO DO.

He grabbed hold of the Moblin's helmet. The black-purple flame enveloped the creature's head.

"Mercy!" Moqut Thrice-Cursed screeched. "Mercy!" The helmet crumbled in Ganondorf's hand and the fire spread onto his face. Then the word mercy turned to ash, and all Moqut could do was writhe and screech. And soon even that ended.

"You want to know what you can call me?" Ganondorf pulled with all his might and raised the flaming skull of their chief high. He clenched his fingers into a fist and the skull burst into dust. "I am Ganondorf Dragmire! And you shall call me king!"