Ganondorf was a well-built man, tall, with a fiery red beard and dark tan skin. His red eyes were unnerving to some, but to most, they were more than offset by his charming personality and immense charisma. To some, Ambassador Zant included, the eyes actually gained him more favor. They held power, those eyes. The fire of ambition burned behind them. This, they said, is a man who can get things done.
Quite unlike Zant himself. Zant was a tall but thin man, completely bald, with extremely pale skin. The immense differences in their appearance were for good reason, he supposed. After all, they came from different worlds: Ganondorf from the hot Gerudo Desert on the edge of Hyrule, and he from the far-off Twilight Realm. The former a land of heat and sun, the latter one of cool and darkness. However, despite their difference in background, it didn’t mean that they couldn’t get along. After all, they had a lot in common as well.
Zant, dressed in the long ceremonial robes of the Twilight Realm took a deep breath before knocking on the Senator’s office door. He had been so impressed with the man, and now that he finally got to meet in person—and privately at that—he found himself rather nervous.
“Ah, Ambassador Zant,” came a voice from the other side. “Please, come in.”
Zant opened the door and stepped inside. Ganondorf sat behind a sturdy mahogany desk in a pinstripe suit, black gloves over his hands. “Please,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from him, “sit.” As soon as the ambassador was seated, he continued. “I’ve been wanting to meet with you for such a long time,” he said. “I’m so glad you could take some time out of your busy schedule while you were down in Hyrule to visit me.”
“To be frank, Senator,” the thin man replied, “I’m surprised that you’d want to meet with me at all. I’m not all that special. I control a small realm. Unlike you, up-and-coming senator in the greatest, most prosperous empire in the land. Even a land as insignificant as mine has heard of you.”
Ganondorf chuckled. “Well, Hyrule’s hardly as great or prosperous as it used to be. But that’s what I’d like to talk to you about.”
“About Hyrule? I’m sorry, senator, but you’re much more familiar than I with—”
“Please, Ambassador Zant. Let me finish. I’m asking you because we’re kindred spirits. You know where I’m coming from. The subject I speak of here is exile.
“Hyrule has had its ups and downs in the years, yes. Technology has evolved. Monarchy has fallen. But one thing has remained fairly constant: Hyrule is a land of racism. If you don’t have the pointed ears of a Hylian, you’re a nobody. My ancestors, the Gerudo, were driven out of Hyrule to the desert centuries ago. Your people, the Twilit, were driven further, and longer ago. Gorons, Dekus, Zoras, Rito…all essentially herded into reservations. There has been progress, yes. I’m a senator, and a well respected one. Most of the different races of Hyrule have some sort of representation. But the fact remains that Hylians are racist, and their segregation of ‘inferior’ races has lead to even further prejudice between all races.”
Zant nodded dumbly. The senator’s words held such power. He found himself completely enthralled.
“Well,” the man continued, “no longer, I say. Hyrule needs progression, and all these games of politics aren’t going to help. They move far too slow. What we need is a return to a monocracy. We need someone who can actually accomplish things. Someone working for the good of Hyrule.”
“You mean…restoring the Hyrule family to the throne?”
He scoffed. “Hardly. There’s a reason that Hyrule is no longer a kingdom. No, we need someone new. Someone, if I may boast for a moment, like myself.”
“I could think of no one better, senator,” Zant said. “You’ve more than proved yourself capable.”
“Well, I’m glad you think so. However, now we get into the matter of why I need you. You see, even if the Hylians were to agree to a monarchy, there’s no way they would put a Gerudo like myself on the throne. They would cling to tradition and refuse to be progressive. Senator Zelda Hyrule would be instated in my stead. And while I have support from several different non-Hylian senators, I’m sure that, if I were to take the throne, there would be war. That is why I need enough supporters for a pre-emptive strike. Of course, that means I would become a dictator—a benevolent dictator, of course, but a dictator nonetheless. Still, it would be preferable to putting a Hyrule in charge again.”
Zant nodded. “Of course it would, Senator Ganondorf. But…I have just one question. How can I be sure you’ll succeed?”
The man pulled off the black gloves he had been wearing, holding up his right hand to display the marking on it. Zant, though he was not from Hyrule, recognized it immediately. A piece of the Triforce. “Because, ambassador,” he said, his hand bursting into flame as he clenched his fist, “the goddesses are on my side.”
Zant hurriedly stood, staring at the man’s hand, before dropping to his knees and prostrating himself before the senator.
“The Twilit armies, oh my god,” he cried aloud, “are yours to command!”
***
Aryll looked at the house. “It really doesn’t look like anything special,” she told the giantess beside her. The woman was easily six feet tall, and more muscular than most men. Aryll, short and toothpick-armed, felt quite uneasy next to Impa.
“It’s not,” she replied in a thick accent [AN: though our languages are naturally not spoken in this universe, the accent is quite similar to Russian], opening the door. “It’s just a house. Come inside.”
Aryll and Colin followed her in, glancing around. It was, as Impa had said, nothing special. It was just a house. One quite a bit nicer than their own, granted, but still very moderate.
“Whose house is this?” she asked.
“Ours for now,” the big woman said flatly. She pointed down the hall. “The rooms are that way. Pick one. Put your bags there. Ilia will meet you now.” She slipped quietly out the door. She moved with quite a bit of agility and grace for a woman her size, Aryll noted.
“So,” she said, turning to Colin as they walked down the hall, “what do you think of Impa.”
The boy frowned. “She’s scary. She’s so big, and she talks funny.”
She smiled. “Yeah, she scares me too.”
“Where’s Link?” he asked. “I wanna see him. When’s he coming back?”
She hesitated. “He…he’s not coming back for a while, Colin.”
“You mean that he’s dead, don’t you.” She blinked in shock. Is that really how he had interpreted her statement? “Well, I don’t believe you. Link wouldn’t die. He’s too strong for that.”
She managed a chuckle. “You’re right, Colin. He’s way too strong. And I meant what I said: he’s not coming back for a while, and we’re going to have to get used to that.”
“Why not?”
“I…I don’t know, Colin. I honestly don’t know.”
“I do,” came a voice from behind them. A young woman, probably around Link’s age, walked down the hall towards them. “Hi, there. I’m Ilia. Aryll, that’s your room, Colin, that’s yours.”
Aryll slipped her bag into the room and turned to talk to the woman. “What do you mean? You know where Link is? You know what he’s doing?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Aryll. I know, but I can’t give you that information.” As Aryll’s face fell, she continued. “I can, though, tell you a few things. First of all, he’s doing a job of great importance. The person who hired him for the job is also my and Impa’s employer. I can’t tell you who exactly who she is, but she’s someone of great influence.”
“She? It’s a woman?”
Ilia paused. “I’ve said too much about her already. You’ll probably figure the rest out eventually, but it’s best you don’t know for now.”
Aryll grunted and nodded. “So, Ilia…who exactly is Impa?”
“My employer’s old nursemaid.”
“And why exactly is a nursemaid still working for a fully grown woman of such ‘great influence?’”
“Well, now she’s a…um, cook.”
Aryll stared at her. “Bit lean for a cook, wouldn’t you say?”
“Okay, okay, she’s a bodyguard. That’s why she’s here. To guard you an Colin.”
“Wait, what?” Aryll blinked in surprise. “What? Why do we need a bodyguard?”
Ilia hesitated. “Look, Aryll, I really don’t know how much I can tell you. I’m sorry, but—”
“Go ahead,” came a voice from behind them, causing them to jump. Impa had reappeared, just as quietly as she had left. “You can tell her.”
Ilia nodded. “How much can she know?”
“Everything. They are safe now.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”
***
“How’s my bike?” Link asked as he slipped back into the garage.
Malon beamed as he approached. “Oh, I think you’ll love it. Come on, right over here.”
“Wow,” Link whispered as he saw the motorcycle. “Thanks, Malon. It looks great.” The bike looked the same for the most part, but it was cleaner. He assumed it also ran better. Mounted on the front were two sturdy bars, sharpened into points, which he hoped would come in handy. “I think this’ll work great. Thanks.”
“So what do you need the bike in such good condition for, huh?” she asked.
He gave a wry chuckle. “I probably shouldn’t talk about it, but…well, I’ve got something pretty important to do. Really important. Might never see this place again, actually.”
“Sounds big.” He nodded. “Must be pretty stressful. I wish I could help.”
“You already have, tuning up my bike like that. Anything else I can’t involve you in.”
“Mmm,” she said. “Well, how about a kiss. For luck. I mean, it’s not like it’ll help, but you’ll at least know that people are counting on you to return.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I…I couldn’t possibly.”
“Hey, it’s nothing like that,” she said. “It’s just—”
“It’s not that at all,” he said. “It’s just…well, you remind me too much of Marin.”
“Marin?”
He sighed. “I really loved her, Malon. I mean, when you know nothing about your past, and your world is so turbulent, having something that remains constant means everything. Marin was that constant. She helped me get back on my feet, helped me try to find out who exactly I was.” He looked at Malon. “I was about to propose to her, you know.”
“What happened?”
“She drowned.” He shook his head. “I…I was going to go with her to the beach that day. She loved to sit and watch the seagulls. But something came up. I told her to go on, and that I’d catch up to her later. It happened when she was trying to save a boy who was drowning. I got there while they were both in the water.” He took a deep breath. “I swam out to save them. ‘Take the boy,’ she said. ‘I’ll be fine.’ So I saved the boy. I went back out to save her, but….” He trailed off.
“But it was too late,” Malon finished for him.
“Yeah. It was too late.”
They lapsed into silence. “Look,” Malon said after a few moments, attempting to change the subject. “Here, I’ve gotta show you what I’ve done with your bike.” She led him around the front. “You can see the spears I mounted on front, but check this out.” She started up the bike, then pressed a button. Two automatic guns popped out of a compartment on the rear. “They’re rigged to fire automatically when you’re in motion, so be careful. Either way, you’ve got the spears on the front, and these to cover your rear.”
He nodded. “Thanks, Malon.”
“It was my pleasure. This particular Epona is easily the best bike I’ve worked on. All engines have life in them, yeah, but this one actually felt as if she were alive. I dunno, call me crazy, but it felt like she liked my singing.”
He thanked her again, paid, and wheeled the bike out. He looked around to make sure he was alone, then pulled out the Ocarina Saria had given him. Malon had said that it felt like there was life in the bike, and that it had reacted to her singing. He fiddled around with the notes a bit, trying to recreate by ear the tune she would always sing. He felt crazy, even attempting this. The bike wasn’t alive.
He finally got the tune down, took a deep breath, and played it through. The engine instantly roared to life. In that second, he felt something. No, the bike wasn’t alive, but it definitely had a soul. Not just any soul, but a part of his own soul in it. Not just that, but a part of Malon’s. A part of the hearts of all the people in Hyrule that cared about him, and wanted him to be safe. The bike responded to those emotions.
He chuckled, surprised at what all the magic Saria had given him could do. He slipped on his sunglasses, jammed his headphones into his ears, and set it to a song by the Indigo-gos. “Nothing better than jazz for saving the world,” he muttered, smiling to himself. Then he revved the throttle, roaring off into the night, trenchcoat flapping behind him.
***
“Huh,” was all Aryll could manage when Ilia finished explaining the situation. Impa had disappeared halfway through. “So. Senator Zelda. And Senator Ganondorf.”
“You recognize the names?”
Aryll laughed. “Who doesn’t? They’re the most prominent and quickest upcoming senators, respectively. Come on, even Colin recognizes their names. But Link’s involved with them? That’s…wow. Didn’t see that coming.”
“And now you understand why we have to keep you here.”
“Kind of. Is Ganondorf really as bad as you say? Because he seems pretty pleasant to me.”
“That’s why he’s so dangerous,” Ilia said. “And why he’s so powerful.”
Aryll nodded. “I think we’d best keep this from Colin, if just because he wouldn’t understand it.”
“Well, it’s your call now. So, Aryll, tell me…what’s it like, living with Link?”
“It’s okay. He’s great to be around and all, but he drives me crazy, never telling me what’s going on. I mean, I know a bit now, but that’s thanks to you. He just seems so distant.”
“Well,” she said, “love is never easy.”
Aryll coughed. “Love? What the hell are you talking about?”
Ilia stared. “You love him, don’t you?”
She laughed. “Well, yeah. He’s like a brother. But that doesn’t mean I’m
in love with him!”
Ilia shrugged. “Whatever you say. I mean, I’ve only seen pictographs of him, and I don’t see how anyone not actually related to him could live in the same house and not develop some sort of feelings for him.”
“Ilia, even if I did feel anything for him, it would never work out. He’s in love with someone else. Someone dead and gone. And he’s never going to forget about her as long as Colin’s around.”
Ilia looked puzzled. “Why Colin?”
She glanced over at the boy’s room, from which the heavy breathing of sleep could be heard. “Because,” she said, “he’s the one she died protecting.”