#that space between leaving home and her first heroic deeds was prime time and they squandered it

[anoras]

these demi gods of secret knowledge keep being a little too late to get their claws into tegan and she's already been pressed into the service of a god of the dawn

[discnchant]

He pulled the brim of his hat down, casting a dark shadow down over his face. The walk between the Andersens’ townhome and the Dallbens’ was short and yet it felt so long. Ariel and Lark had done all they could to divert attention from them as they hurried to the other home, mother and son huddled close together on the narrow paveways. It was still early, not many were out. Of course not, he thought bitterly, not when Lady Chattermore had so many damning things to say. The pamphlet which always mysteriously showed up after society events in the past couple years had been lengthier than recent publications, full of gossip and rumors about everyone who attended the prior evening’s May Day celebrations — specifically the party held by the faerie prince. It seemed everyone had acted a little out of character, and somehow fallen prey to inappropriate behavior. While Lark kept his composure, he was not spared the poison quill. It was that reason alone he scurried to the other home with the Countess of Tirulia nearly pulling him along.

“They’ll be expecting us, we do not want to keep Lady Dallben or her daughter waiting,” Ariel hummed in a low voice as they approached the door. She was already dropping his arm to reach out and delicately knock. Lark had taken the moment to gaze down the empty lane, searching for curious eyes peering out of curtains to watch the pair sneaking in disgrace. He met no one’s eyes, just an empty street and closed windows. Of course they weren’t the only ones dealing with the aftermath of a gossip rag — he figured behind other closed doors there were things being talked about, similar clean up schemes being hatched.

I hope not any quite like this.

“Lark,” Ariel’s voice pulled him from self deprecating thoughts. She quietly nodded towards the now opening door of the Dallben residence, a footman waiting patiently to lead the visitors inside. It looked dark, quiet beyond the threshold — as though no one were home. The perfect environment for scheming. It made his stomach churn uncomfortably but he nodded and crossed the space between them in a couple long strides, meeting his mother and stepping into the home. It was less quiet than he’d expected within. The home was in a flurry, the help moving to and fro, buzzing quietly to one another as they did so. When Ariel and Lark sauntered by, their whispering ceased, and the servants stared pointedly at the pair. Lark could feel a heat rising beneath his collar, blush blossoming on his cheeks and ears turned scarlet. He was never a fan of attention, and it was clear that the servants were aware of what was going on.

Were some of them assessing him as future lord of their household? Wondering who would be hired onto the Viscount’s staff once their young miss was gone to his home? Cooks and maids and butlers that knew the young lady so well that they would have to tend to her even in married life, secretly despising him for putting their darling Miss Dallben in a compromising position and forced union…. He hated the thought. He hated the thought of where this misunderstanding with Chattermore was leading him. Back on the street he was a free and single man, able to make his own decisions. Now? ……he wasn’t quite sure what he was since entering that home. “You mustn’t dally, darling,” his mother whispered behind her shoulder as Lark stayed still and stared back at a couple gossiping maids. He hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped walking. Cursing under his breath, he caught up to her just in time to be lead into a drawing room.

Just a handful of hours before, Lark had intended to come to this very drawing room himself — under slightly different circumstances. Alone, of his own free will, with nothing more than a curiosity. Following that moment in the fountain — Gwendolyn’s carefree laughter, her slender frame in his strong arms, the near kiss that happened between them — he’d been left with many questions. Questions about her. Questions about himself. Questions about them. He wasn’t sure where he’d stood when it came to her anymore. For a moment he’d thought that maybe he was in the throws of passion, falling rapidly in love with the girl he’d sworn to spurn off his whole life. Now with the faerie glamour worn away and the night’s events coming to bite him in the ass… Lark was beginning to lose that spark of intrigue he’d felt the night before. Was it all a trap? Some kind of way to tempt the Viscount into the marriage match his family so desperately wanted for him? He walked into that room today not with the buzz of potential first love… But with a rash of embarrassment and slight animosity.

He had to keep his expression stoic the second his eyes landed upon Eilonwy and Gwendolyn Dallben, ready to receive the pair. Ariel didn’t stay close to the door and unpleasantly distant as her son. As soon as they were in the drawing room and the presence of the ladies of the house, she pulled off her bonnet and crossed the space to warmly greet them. Sometime after the war she’d grown a rapport with the Viscountess of Prydain, a friendship that lead to the scheme to pair their eldest children. Gwendolyn as their only heir was a prime bachelorette in the ton, maybe even well liked and desired by other bachelors for all he knew, but Lark avoided the idea. He didn’t want a wife, he wanted to go back to the navy.

As the women greeted each other, he avoided eye contact with the young lady across the room, embarrassed by the circumstance of the meeting. Instead he was running through any last effort idea he could think of, alternate measures to the one Ariel was about to suggest. Maybe they could convince everyone that it was a heroic deed and not a salacious one — that Gwendolyn had fallen into the fountain by faerie trick and would have drown had he not gotten in and helped her, that the “near kiss” was actually resuscitation. Maybe they could turn this around and not force anyone’s hand. It’s worth a shot. The Lord cleared his throat and opened his mouth, ready to speak his idea.

“Well I believe we all know the reason we are here,” Ariel started, “Best not to dilly dally, there’s little time before Lady Chattermore’s words make their intended effect. As all parties know, something occurred last night between Lark and Gwendolyn which was witnessed and publicized by the society papers. What went on is neither here nor there, our job now is to make sure this does not lead to scandal. I believe there is a very clear solution to this, one that would save the reputation of both houses and come with a truly happy ending.” Ariel turned, smiling brightly to her son and urging him closer. Lark obeyed wordlessly, pulling off his hat and approaching the women, though his shoulders shook from panic.

She had seized the opportunity, left him with no choice but to comply with her swiftly concocted plan. She had chastised him that morning for his actions, told him that while he could get away with it there was little hope for Gwendolyn if he didn’t do right by her. She was doomed and he was safe, a tragic commentary on the way society judged women and men so differently. He could walk away an unscathed bachelor, still beloved by his peers, but she could be doomed to spinsterhood, abandoned and mocked by society. You can save her from ruin. That was her trump card, the words ringing in his head as he turned and bowed humbly to the women. His mother continued her train of thought. “Has it not been our hope that our families be joined? I believe the best option that we have on our hands… Is to commence with a betrothal, one we can convince the public has been intended all along. The love match borne from childhood, as we had tried to design it, kept a sentimental guarded secret as one party made career at sea and the other awaited their return.”

Dread consumed him as his mother spoke, driving home the plan she’d stumbled into the second she read about her son’s activities at the party. Marriage. Should this go as Ariel planned then Lark Andersen, Second Viscount of Atlantica and future Second Earl of Tirulia, would soon be announcing an engagement to the Honourable Gwendolyn Dallben of Prydain…. Just as their mothers had always intended. He swallowed thickly at the thought, blue eyes trained on the floor beneath them. “I think it suits all of us to begin discussing how to proceed in a way that will portray the innocence of the pair, should this be the best course of action in all our eyes,” Ariel concluded, a warm smile on her face despite the decidedly serious topic at hand. “What say you, Lady Dallben?” She addressed the mother, leaving the children to quietly stew in this bargain. @gwendolyndallben

[pocketseizure]

The History of Light and Shadow

At the end of Twilight Princess, Ganondorf delivers one of his most memorable lines, “The history of light and shadow will be written in blood.” He is not wrong. As the player has witnessed over the course of Link’s adventure, Hyrule is haunted by ruins and ghost towns, a mere shadow of what it once was. The landscape is filled with numerous sites of past violence and empty spaces visibly marked by decay and wasted potential.

When Zelda tells Link and Midna that “these dark times are the result of our deeds,” she is referring to specific historical acts of imperialistic aggression. Hyrule established hegemony over its outlying territories by crushing the rebellions against its advances, but the kingdom has suffered from cultural stagnation as a result. Without the dynamic diversity symbolized by Ganondorf, Hyrule finds itself in economic and political decline, isolated from any contact with the world beyond its shrinking borders.

As a representative of a marginalized group of people who have been attacked and driven from their homes, Ganondorf is a tangible manifestation of the horrors of imperialism. He must be defeated, but doing so does not address the underlying problems that have resulted in Hyrule’s decline. I therefore want to argue that Twilight Princess uses Ganondorf to deliver a subtle yet poignant protest against the discourses of empire reflected by the dualistic “light and shadow” rhetoric of heroism that has resulted in tragedy and regret.

In the era immediately preceding Ocarina of Time, the kingdom of Hyrule united multiple geographically proximate groups of people at the end of a devastating civil war. Ganondorf was the leader of the Gerudo, an ethnic minority that resisted Hyrule. After several years of fighting, Ganondorf was eventually captured and imprisoned. The Sages of Hyrule were unable to execute him, so they sealed him away by casting him into the Twilight Realm, a world of shadows that exists alongside Hyrule. The events of Twilight Princess are triggered an indefinite period of time later when Ganondorf manages to persuade Zant, a prince of the Twilight Realm, to stage an uprising against Midna, its legitimate ruler.

Guided by Midna, the player takes on role of the teenage hero Link in order to defeat Zant and Ganondorf and thereby save Hyrule with the aid of its crown princess, Zelda. Many (if not the majority) of players will be influenced by the broad archetypes reproduced in this heroic narrative to understand Link as “good” and Ganondorf as “evil.”

Throughout most of Twilight Princess, Ganondorf is characterized as a ruthless tribal warlord who attacked Hyrule because of his lust for power. As indicated by his monologues and gradual humanization over the course of the final battle, however, Ganondorf represents much more than simply an evil to be defeated. He is introduced to the player as a foolish man who became evil incarnate, and he does little more than scream in rage and pain when the player first sees him in a flashback. When he is allowed to speak for himself, however, he reveals himself to be highly intelligent with motivations that are not unsympathetic.

When Link finally confronts Ganondorf in the throne room of Hyrule Castle, he is sitting alone. The world he once knew is long gone, and all that remains to him is the intense emotion he has directed toward Hyrule, whose wealth and security he simultaneously covets and resents. Ganondorf has succeeded in conquering the kingdom, but his victory no longer has meaning, as his people have been killed, driven away, or assimilated.

As established in Ocarina of Time, the Gerudo historically maintained uneasy relations with the majority ethnicity of Hyrule. The views once espoused by the people in Hyrule concerning the Gerudo are reminiscent of Orientalist stylizations, in which the peoples of certain “non-Western” and therefore “uncivilized” nations are characterized as being either unintelligent animals incapable of governing themselves or decadent and weak and thus a prime target for colonization.

The villainization of Ganondorf and the Gerudo as deceitful and lawless thieves within Hyrule echoes contemporary postcolonial discourse, in which former colonial powers exhibit a longing for “the good old days” of expansive imperial hegemony. The British sociologist Paul Gilroy has termed this fabricated nostalgia “postcolonial melancholy,” a tonal atmosphere characterizing stories that are often haunted by the gothic figure of the postcolonial ghost. Ganondorf is a textbook example of a postcolonial ghost – a menacing supernatural figure who represents the frightening native traditions of the past that the supposedly enlightened colonizers attempted to “correct” but were prevented from eradicating completely.

In order for culturally odorless global capitalism to move forward, the ghosts of the colonial past must be laid to rest, regardless of whether they are symbolic narratives or actual human beings. Such narratives are not uncommon in the political discourse and popular narratives of Japan, which is still struggling to come to terms with its history of imperial violence on the Asian mainland. In essence, the demonization of Ganondorf reflects the historical and contemporary villainization of both specific and broadly defined groups in the real world, including entire nations of people who have been discursively positioned as “enemies.” 

As a medium, video games require challenges for the player to overcome. Story-based games such as those in the Legend of Zelda series tend to be relentless in their construction of enemies whose unequivocally evil deeds propel the hero to action. In Twilight Princess, there are two primary categories of characters with whom the player can interact: NPCs who offer material assistance and advice on how the hero can proceed through the quest, and monsters who must be attacked and generally yield tangible rewards when defeated.

In other words, the fundamental elements of gameplay reflect a worldview built on the foundation of a battle of “us” versus “them,” which is given literal expression in the dichotomy between who cannot be attacked and who must be attacked in order to advance. Many players take it for granted that a game will present a class or race or species that deserves to be destroyed, and the lack of alternative options for interaction suggests that it is still somewhat radical to suggest that perhaps the player-character is not entirely justified in the demonization of people who don’t look or think like them.

Video games are adept at engendering a sense of subjectivity, meaning that one of their functions is to give the player a feeling of controlling their movement through the game while enacting their will via the actions of their character. At the end of Twilight Princess, however, Link must fight and defeat Ganondorf, no matter how much sympathy the player may feel for him.

The gameplay elements of Twilight Princess therefore perform abjection, the process by which we demarcate the boundaries of the whole and wholesome “self” by setting up a contrast against a fragmented and unclean “other.” As individuals, we employ this process to construct monsters that violate the sanctity of our bodies; and, as cultures, we employ this process to construct enemies that violate our sense of belonging to a shared identity.

The dualism of “the pure” and “the abject” functions to further erase the nuances and possibilities denied by the artificial designation of the characters in Twilight Princess as either “good” or “evil.” Ganondorf’s cultural barrier-crossing, his shifting physical form, his open physical and emotional wounds, and his occupation of the liminal spaces between one world and another place him squarely in the realm of the impure and abject. Both the story of Twilight Princess and the narrative functions of its gameplay demand that the abject ghosts of the empire be purified and expelled by cleansing Hyrule of the pollution of Ganondorf’s lingering malice.

By humanizing Ganondorf but then forcing the player to fight him anyway, Twilight Princess employs various tropes relating to the figure of the postcolonial ghost not to invoke unironic postcolonial melancholy, but rather to force the player to experience the violence of these tropes in a subjective and visceral way. Twilight Princess is therefore not so much a heroic legend of triumph over “darkness” as it is an elegiac legend of regret concerning past atrocities.

Link’s victory is bittersweet, and it is not presented as a triumph for him or for Hyrule. At the end of Twilight Princess, Princess Zelda barely looks at the young man who supposedly rescued her. Midna, whose people were once banished to the Twilight Realm for opposing Zelda’s ancestors, takes her leave of Link, shattering the gate between their worlds after she departs. Midna explains her decision by saying, “Light and shadow can’t mix, as we all know.”

As Link and Midna’s friendship throughout the game has demonstrated, light and shadow can indeed coexist. Midna does not explain why she would choose to destroy the Mirror of Twilight that connects the Twilight Realm to Hyrule, but it is significant that this occurs immediately after she has witnessed the fight between Link and Ganondorf. Perhaps the prolonged spectacle of Ganondorf’s death has convinced Midna that there is no room for “monsters” in Hyrule, and it may be that she fears that she and her people will always be seen as abject outsiders, just as Ganondorf and his people once were.

It’s not clear to whom the title of Twilight Princess refers, and it could easily designate Midna, who emerges from and returns to the shadowy Twilight Realm. The title could also apply to Princess Zelda, however, as the victory over the forces of evil at the end of the game does not necessarily reverse or alleviate her kingdom’s slow decline. Before the end credits roll, Zelda sends the hero back to his village and returns alone to her empty castle.

Despite the narrative arc of Link’s progressive competence as an adventurer, this element of sorrow has been present from the outset of the game. Unlike the other games in the Legend of Zelda series, Twilight Princess begins not with Link waking up in the morning, but with him returning home in the evening. The opening scene is suffused with the golden light of the setting sun, and the game’s first spoken line is delivered by Link’s mentor Rusl, who asks, “Tell me… Do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?” The player’s first few minutes with Twilight Princess thereby establish melancholy and lament as two of the major themes of the game. The people of Hyrule are entering the twilight of their civilization under the rule of an ineffectual monarchy that has not allowed its people to be revitalized by change and diversity.

The slow apocalypse suggested by the environment of Twilight Princess, such as eroded ruins and decaying ghost towns, is not presented with an opportunity for renewal along with Ganondorf’s defeat. The potential for energetic dynamism represented by Ganondorf has been violently denied in favor of cultural purity, and the severity of this loss is reflected in the somber tone of the game’s closing scenes. If Ganondorf cannot exist in Hyrule, neither can Midna – and perhaps neither can Link himself.

When Ganondorf speaks of a history written in blood, he is referring to the history that has been lost to Hyrule along with the bodies and voices of the people who have fallen in its imperialistic conflicts. Twilight Princess thereby uses the menacing yet tragic figure of Ganondorf to suggest that, if the lifeblood of the kingdom is to remain vital, its history must be able to accommodate more than a reductive dualism between “light” and “shadow.”