A Note from the Desk of Her. Vanilla .Majesty...
Re-edited intro...
Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda.
The Beginning
It was by fate that he was born unto the service of the Calatians—a nation torn between corruption and forgotten morals. It was by chance that he had come to the world under a silvery moon and starless sky, crying for the warmth of a dying mother who could only whisper her last words to the gods above for his safety. It was by luck that his looks were far more desirable than any could have ever dreamed—all blue eyes and welcoming smiles. It was by the whims of love that his allure would be the one to charm it's way into the Princess' frozen heart and bring about the downfall of Hyrule.
This was the story of Link Avignon.
.
He was penniless by nature. But his parents would decline that fact everyday. They claim that they had found him lying in the forever youngs' forest—the Kokiri, swaddled in exorbitant blue silk and wearing a silver chained medallion of an exquisite nobility insignia. They say that he held it tightly in his tiny fists when they first found him, cries muffled by heavy leaves and tall stems of grass.
It was a triangular shaped pendant, encased in fine glowing silver, yet it had shone like gold. He was ashamed of it in his own way; stating the noble sign in such a poor lovely town that had served to be his only home seemed somewhat cruel. Most of the townspeople were not fond of the lowlanders; it was the pride of the Royal Family that ceased their healthy trades and commerce. Within a few short months, money was scarce and people found last refuge in the streets, grimy hands cupped together, begging for enough silver to fill their aching stomachs for the night.
Their family was a lucky exception. In fact, his whole life was quite lucky. His mother was well and healthy, father prospering from trading horses with the affluent Romani Ranch of Termina. Their house was humble and inferior to those of the stately manors, but shelter was rare he learned to be thankful for the small things that had kept him warm in the frosty winter nights.
He never did take off that pendant, though. he couldn't bring himself to. It hung low in his chest every single day, either out and glittering, or stuffed inside his modest clothes, pressing against his skin as he worked away the day in the fields.
It was in his fourteenth birthday that his luck had finally ran out, sapped to its limits—but who knew the supply was so short? Mother had fallen victim to the Dark Plague and died shortly after being infected with the horrendous disease. Her last day was uneventful and dull, full of aches and pain that he could not heal as he watched the light from her eyes dissolve to nothing. His father, stricken with grief and desperation knowing that he could no longer support his son, sent him off to the Calatian Court in hopes that they would take in his son's hidden noble blood in consideration and provide an education and future.
And they had. Yet instead of handing him a quill and paper, he was presented in front of a stone-faced man who thrust a sword into his trembling, inexperienced hands. His fingers closed around the hilt, the vibration of steel and raw power thrumming to his wrist and filling him with something foreign and inexplicably new. Something that felt as if it had always been there with him, waiting for the call.
Courage.
The first years were about discipline and mastery of swordplay. He excelled in ways even he could not believe and made his way through the ranks with dizzying speed. He was the youngest to graduate and earn his armor.
Then he was put on sale after wearing out his use; a display for all interested buyers: to take in a poor, handsome young man and care for him. The orphanage was a horrible place, and his nights were filled with yearning to return to the barracks and feel the thrum of courage surge through his veins again. The beds were hard and blankets dirty. The water always ran low and it seemed every month a child would die from neglect.
Link learned to care for himself. His friend Saria would always play with him out in the forests nearby to escape the daily troubles of the orphanage. But, then of course, someone had taken an interest and adopted her, stealing away the only dash of color in his black-and-white world.
It was nearly another year until a special visitor came along, like an unexpected storm. He sported a dark greenish color with red hair and angry golden eyes. His face was brutal and marred with scars from battle, and once his eyes found Link a wicked grin came to his face, dark and cunning. The people were glad to give him away; Link had always been something of a troublemaker despite his pleasant features.
.
The man was known as the King of Gerudos, and Link was to be his prodigy. A Hylian to infiltrate Hyrule and conquer it for his master.
He spent endless hours training himself in their way of fighting; his hand grew rough and attached to the hilt of their exotic scimitars in no time. The Gerudos were a war-like tribe, the population composed solely of women—save for the King himself, but he found it easy to associate amongst them. Eventually, he grew accustomed to their excessive flirting and sly winks. Yet the desert was hot enough without their scorching skin and heated glances, golden eyes blazing with the utmost confidence as they strutted through hot torrents of sand with lithe, battle-scared bodies that spoke countless tales of victory.
He was the only prey in a pack of predators, and that was how he saw them.
Nabooru had proven herself different at their fist meeting by putting a well-intended scar across his right cheek. The others were horrified, but she seemed pleased at his apparent shock. The Gerudo King took a liking to her immediately and appointed them to his high council, knowing their skills would be near unmatchable in the battlefield.
..
He was nearing his seventeenth year when Altea invaded Gerudo Desert, seeing as how the Hylians discarded the land from their alliance. He fought with all the skill he could muster, but they were drastically outnumbered. Link did not die a horrible death in the burning sand though; the armed knight he had fought his last battle against was apparently the King himself.
Glancing at the young man that fell before his blade, bleeding and wounded, the King grinned viciously.
"A Hylian in foreign soil? How very interesting."
Needless to say, His Majesty was most impressed with the swordsman and took him captive as a spoil of war. He was taken under Altea's Castle to train Prince Marth on the art of the sword.
..
The two grew to be the best of friend after years of roaming the wild countryside of Altea and wooing girls to the palace dances held annually.
Marth often mock-bragged about his colorful history with duchesses and pompous city girls, much to Link's infinite amusement and the King's disappointment.
Link himself had never wanted to showcase his charm with women. He found it to be a talent best kept under wraps - and it had been. For a while.
He was flirting with a maid, and he was reckless about it at the time. Of course, she was pretty, nothing more. His horse had more brains and common sense. It was only by sheer coincidence that the King happened to run into their conversation, noting Link's never-ending supply of sly phrases and flattering compliments with what could only be described as awe.
.
Link was unprepared, safe to say.
The Captain, a grim-faced man with coals for eyes, had taken him so abruptly from the training grounds, and none too gently, muttering under his breath that the King had requested his immediate presence at the Throne Room.
Normally, protocol stated that knights - especially one of his stature - would have to be presentable in order to hold audience with the King. He guessed that whatever the King had called to him for would be urgent. So urgent that he would not have minded - even tolerated - the sight of a breathless young man, fresh from a good warm-up fight and reeking of adrenaline.
He was not wrong.
.
The Throne room was a grand display of wealth and power, from the tiled ivory floors to the stained mosaic walls that hung below the arched ceilings. Columns sculpted to the liking of the frivolous courtiers lined the carpeted path to the stage where the Royals sat. Link felt his stomach twist violently as he fell to a bow.
"My King." He nodded to a large, boisterous-looking man sitting comfortably on a large throne moulded from imperial gold. "You have summoned me?"
The Prince of Altea sat beside his father, a fine silver scabbard on his hip and a thin circlet around his head, handsome features scrunching in disataste as he watched his father let out a booming laugh.
"You have a gift, my boy," the King commented proudly, perched on his fat throne and looking as big as ever. His belly protruded underneath the rich clothes he wore, bursting over the leather belt closing around his hip. "A gift I know you've been hiding."
"Sir?" Link asked, raising a brow in confusion. He was aware of the sweat that lingered on his forehead, making his hair plaster to the sides of his face in damp strips of gold.
"Oh, you need not explain yourself," the King went on, waving away the puzzled question that hung between them, leaving it thoroughly unanswered. "I just find that your talents may be of great use to our kingdom. Much more than waving those swords of yours, anyway."
Prince Marth looked thoroughly bored at the impropmtu meeting and made a point of showing it. "Can you get to the point, Father?"
A look of mild annoyance crossed the King's features and he snapped with a glower, "Quiet, boy. You'd do yourself good to listen to this."
Marth snorted and fiddled with the hem of his velvet cloak, muttering under his breath - unfazed by the cross glare his father sent his way. His eyes briefly passed over Link, glazed with a thinly veiled look of distrust and suspicion - two main factors that led to the divide of their friendship.
The King turned to Link with a smile - a stark contrast to Marth's icy look. The smile itself was not warm or friendly. It was knowing.
The Knight straightened his posture, the joint of his armor letting out muffled clanks as steel hit steel.
"Link, have you heard of Hyrule?"
Marth sat up suddenly, eyes wide, as if he had been struck by lightning. Not a pleasant feeling, Link would know. "What in the world?" Alarm burst in his blue eyes and he clenched his teeth, nearly grinding out the word, "Father-"
The King raised up his hand to silence him and Link felt himself nod - feeling odd and slightly distanced, as if he had been dropped down to a new world. "Yes; it is s a neighboring kingdom near Termina."
"Yes." The King touched his bushy eyebrow with a gold-ringed finger, smiling to himself almost dreamily. "A very prosperous nation. And now do tell me, have you heard of the Princess?"
"Princess?" Link repeated, interest piqued, though he hid it by shuffling his feet. He had seen many princess in his time. Many often came to Altea, vying for the Prince's hand - though Marth often shooed them away at first glance. Link would have gladly taken his pick if it hadn't been for the fact that they were nearly unreachable, even for him. He settled for the ladies of the court that often came by, a fickle yet alluring bunch, he knew.
"Father!" Marth cried, something much like thinly disguised horror reaching his voice.
"Shut your mouth, boy!" the King glowered at his son once more. "You should not meddle with my affairs!"
"Father please…" Marth tried again, meek as a mouse in the face of the King's impending wrath. Link watched them bicker with a growing unease.
"Her name is Zelda. She is about to turn eighteen and will soon be eligible for marriage." The King clasped his hands together and grinned at him, turning away from his son. Marth wore an expression of utter distress, dropping his head into his hands, mortified.
Link frowned. "Okay…"
"Aren't you about to turn eighteen as well, Link?" The King hinted, weaving his hands together under his chin.
"I already did. Two months ago, your Highness." He was baffled at the sudden turn of the conversation, head reeling as he struggled to keep up. He failed to see why any Princess - whether from Hyrule or some other kingdom - would be any of his concern.
"Ah," the King leaned back in his throne looking thoughtful, "why have you never told us? We could have celebrated it."
"I did not want to concern you with such trivial matters, My King."
"Trivial?" the King scoffed and waved a hand in front of him. "You are like a son to me, Link."
"Father…" Marth fidgeted in his throne, looking highly anxious.
Link was not used to such compliments from the King and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Err…"
"Back to the matter at hand, Princess Zelda, yes? We met with her about six years ago. Marth here-" he made an elaborate gesture to his son who blushed on the spot- "was smitten, to say."
Link simply blinked.
A smirk came to the King's face then, mocking and callous. "Wouldn't stop talking about her for a week. You know well, I encourage Marth to pursue study and training instead of-" the King's face scrunched, "-love. But as you've said, Hyrule is a vast, rich country. And it would do well for Altea to form an alliance with them, don't you think?"
"Altea is big enough to stay independent," Link said in reply, hoping to please the King.
The King raised a brow then let out a short laugh. "You are right, boy! But the Hylians can pose a serous threat in terms of war. Their alliances have made them near invincible."
"So you wish for Marth to court the princess?"
"Not quite." The King pursed his lips, looking as if the mere thought amused him.
Marth sneered, interrupting. "Love is not something you assert control over, Father."
The King sat up straighter in his throne, mouth curled to a snarl. "You will listen to me as your king. You will never insult my power. Or so help me I will throw you to the dungeons personally." The blue-haired prince flinched at the angry words. His father continued, ruthless, "You have had your chance, Marth. She does not love you, we both know that."
Marth's eyes flared, and his jaw locked. "I..." he trailed off, pressinghis lips together as color rushed from his cheeks.
The King turned back to the knight with a strained smile. Marth's face was red and his eyes glittered furiously as his father wheedled on to Link, "You see, my dear knight, Princess Zelda is not only beautiful, but cold-hearted."
Link blinked and stammered. "But why…"
The King interrupted, holding up a jewel-adorned hand imperiously. "Let me finish. Every suitor of hers is tragically turned down. She plans on ruling Hyrule alone, you know." He barked out a harsh chuckle, glancing up at the ceiling as if sharing the humor with the gods above. "Can you imagine? A woman playing a king's job? It would lead to only disorder and chaos. Ruling is a man's job." Link snapped his mouth shut and only nodded. "So Link, I believe it's time for you to repay your debt to Altea."
The knight's jaw dropped open. Debt? Did he have to pay for all his expenses? "Pardon me, sir. I don't quite understand how this all makes sense."
"Link." The King looked him in the eye, voice grave - a tone he had not ever used since the beginning of their conversation. "I am adopting you as my son. As a Prince of Altea."
"You cannot be serious." Marth's eyes narrowed, his teeth clenched.
"Oh, but I am. I am trusting you with the biggest mission of your life, Link." The soldier looked down and felt the air run from his lungs in a mixed rush of dread and excitement at the next words the King spoke.
"I want you to win Princess Zelda's heart. And when the time comes…crush it."
"I will stop you. No matter what it takes, I will stop you."
Link sighed as he tugged on the collar of the expensive blue tunic he wore. Marth glowered behind him, arms crossed and face contorted into a permanent scowl. The banquet was beginning but neither brothers were in a festive enough mood to bask in the aroma of food and thrum of musoc. The tension between them grew when he replied curtly, "I am just following orders."
Marth glared at him with disbelief and disgust. "Following orders? I know you, Link. You will take great enjoyment in your little assignment."
"You know I am not that heartless, Marth." He rolled his wandering eyes. The chandeliers high on the ceiling swayed, diamonds sparkling their reflections down on them. The tables were being slowly filled with duchesses and nobles of every kind. Plently of pretty maidens sat on the front table, giggling and pointing at him. Link smirked, taking pride in the fact that the crown on his head gave him full permission to wave at them.
He sensed Marth's anger grow and shrugged carelessly, enjoying the new feel of his throne. The prince's heated glare drilled into the back of his head persistently. He sighed. "Don't you want revenge, anyway? This Zelda girl broke your heart. She broke plenty of hearts. Methinks she needs to learn a little lesson about compassion."
"No," Marth snapped, his harsh tone punctuating the air around them, rapidly defusing the joy of the room. "You do. You do not wish revenge on the one you love, Link. But what would you know about that?"
Link feigned hurt and turned to him with a highly insulted look, though Marth could easily tell it was as fake as the gentleman act his 'brother' had used to trick countless women into his arms. "I have my experiences with love as well, Marth."
"Love?" he snorted. "You never did love any of the girls you courted, Link. They were just distractions for you. Pets."
"Not true," he retorted coolly. "What about that ranch girl Siria?"
"Amanda," his brother corrected.
"Yes, yes, her." Link shook his head in exasperation. "I loved her, Marth. I gave her flowers and roses everyday."
"Yes, and she gave you her horse Stavillan…then you left."
"It was a long-distance relationship. It was reasonable." Link explained with practiced patience. "It was best for both of us to just head our separate ways."
"She's three miles away from us! You don't even ride Stavillan nowadays! He's been locked up in the stables for nearly a year now!"
Link threw up his hands and made a quick flick of the wrist as if to shoo away the topic. "It wouldn't have worked anyway!"
Marth felt his impatience swell in his chest and he growled under his breath, darkly. "I am warning you, Link. If you break her heart I will forget we were ever friends and stab a sword through yours."
Link heard the seriousness asserted in his voice and his nerves steeled instantly. "And I am warning you, Marth. If you stand in my way I will forget that we are now brothers and make sure you die a painful death fit for a traitor. I have sworn myself to the King's orders and I will not fail."
Marth leaned back and muttered bitterly. "You are better than this, Link."
"I was," Link replied offhandedly as he reverted his attention to the giggling maidens. They hid behind their fans, coquettishly batting their long lashes. He smiled, "I was, wasn't I?"
"You look lovely today, Princess."
She sighed wearily and watched the sunrise with visible boredom. Rays of light spilled over the hedges of the Royal Garden, though the scene seemed less beautiful after enduring several hours with her stubborn suitor. "Thank you, Lord Travall."
The boy beside her shifted nervously as he tried to conjure new compliments, his hands reaching up to pat the air around her head, as if her admiration were something tangible and he was desperately trying to get a hold of it. "Your…hair looks…" he searched for the word in his mind. Zelda sighed again, impatient to get their date - the word still had the uncanny ability to make her gag - over with.
"Bright," he decided with a light blush.
"Really?" she asked, not even bothering to feign interest. Her fingers absently twiddled with the stray golden locks that had escaped from her neat braid.
"Y-yes," Travall stuttered, when she shifted her gaze to him. "Like...the sun."
"Thank you." Zelda nodded, inwardly groaning. Travall had spent most of their time trying to 'woo' her with his outlandish compliments. And to fill in for the rest of the hours when his mind drew a blank, he reverted back to the 'riveting' political topics often brought up in her father's Court meetings.
"Did you know that my family helped establish the Righteous Code of Man in Ramalia?" Travall said, fidgeting with his fingers nervously, as if reading her mind. "It was the first-"
"System of proper governing, I know," the princess cut in rolling her sapphire eyes. "You've told me before."
"Er, right." Travall let out a feeble laugh, busying his fingers by threading them through the dark tangles of his hair.
"We really ought to be heading inside, Lord Travall," Zelda suggested, batting her eyes his way when his mouth opened to protest. "I'd hate for the sun to mark my skin."
"Oh, but..."
"Come along." She stood, brushing off the bits of grass that clung to her skirts hastily. Perhaps, once they were inside, Travall could entertain the giggling maids back in the castle instead. They had all crowded around Zelda on the first day of his visit, remarking on how handsome his features were and how enviously lucky she was to have him vying for her hand.
"Wait." A hand settled on her upper arm and she stiffened all over.
"Yes?" she asked, swallowing the bile rising to her throat at the contact.
Travall's eyes flitted from her arm, to her chest, and fixed on her lips. His mouth parted. "I..."
"Lord Travall, are you-"
She was cut off as he swooped down, his mouth missing hers by a mere inch. She yelped, forcing him back with a quick shove to the chest. He stumbled to regain footing, his eyes dark with desire as they hungrily glared at her. "Please, just a goodbye kiss-"
"No." Zelda surprised even herself with how cold-sounding her voice seemed. "Lord Travall, I suggest you leave today. Before I tell my father of how you nearly assaulted me with-"
"Assaulted?" Travall laughed, standing tall as his confidence returned. "Princess, be reasonable. Women all over Ramalia would die for me to want them as much as I want you. Don't be foolish."
"Leave." Zelda's eyes glittered, hard as flint and sparking with anger. "Leave now before I hurt you."
"I'd like to see you try," Travall muttered in a somewhat brazen manner as he stepped closer to her with a wicked grin.
There was a flash of white from Zelda's grin, then a blur followed as her fist made contact with his throat, making him gasp for air.
Another hour passed before Lord Travall finally left, bitter and resentful as he was hauled to his carriage in a full-body cast.
The King of Hyrule spent more time in his study than anywhere else in the castle.
Something about the mahogany wood below his feet, the smell of burning wood from the hearth, the scratch of pen on paper soothed him in a way that nothing - not even the exquisite food from the kitchens - could. Now, however, the refuge he once found in the place was slowly dissolving, replaced by frustration and endless nights where sleep proved to be far too elusive.
"You wished to speak to me Father?"
Daphnes looked up from the pile of paperwork he had been slaving over since the crack of dawn and sighed wearily, rubbing his forehead. His daughter seated herself before him, smiling patiently. Her golden hair was plaited with roses and ribbons, not a strand out of place. She looked so heartbreakingly innocent, yet he was not fooled.
"What did you do to Lord Travall?"
She scowled, expression darkening instantaneously as the smile fell from her lips. "I think you mean, what he did to me."
"Zelda…" he began warningly. The quill in his hands snapped in two and he tossed it away in a show of disappointment, reaching for another and dipping it carefully in ink.
His daughter stood suddenly, her scalloped sleeves flaring out as she waved her hands. "He was breaking protocol! He would have attacked me had I not defended myself!"
"Was it really necessary to break all his ribs?"
"He will heal. Most of the damage was taken by his ego," Zelda scoffed, mouth pursed.
"You do not understand Zelda."
"I understand perfectly well, Father. I understand that you are trying to marry me off to these shallow, conceited nobles with no regards to my feelings!" Her eyes blazed with a familiar fury. He sighed.
Dear Goddesses, not so early in the morn...
"Zelda hear me out now…" Her father began before trailing off, knowing it was futile since she'd interrupt him mid-sentence anyway.
"No! You hear me out," Zelda cut in with a glare, just as he had expected. "I can rule this land alone, Father! I can be a sovereign. I am a better candidate for the throne than any of them!"
"Boys were made to be kings, girls were made to be queens."
"Since when? Our religion is based on goddesses."
"That is different," Daphnes grumbled under his breath. "And you will learn to accept it soon Zelda, trust me."
"Trust?" She snorted, but Daphnes knew better than to scold her. Zelda was stubborn. She would not behave with etiquette unless in front of her own people. "How can I when you do not trust me with my decisions?"
"You are far too young to understand such complex matters," Daphnes said in his most delicate tone knowing that even the slightest hint of hesitance in his tone would tarnish the effect of calming her.
Zelda's impatience reached its peak and she collapsed back on her chair in a defeated manner. "I am seventeen, Father."
"Not eighteen. Therefore not yet an adult," he finished firmly with a set glare. He turned down at his quill, flecking strands of ink onto the polished surface of his desk.
She opened her mouth then closed it, huffing a little. "Unbelievable."
"The Alteans are coming for a visit tomorrow."
"I've already met Marth. My refusal was firm. It still is."
"You were twelve then, Zelda."
"So?"
The King smiled softly and shook his head at his daughter. "I invited them. To celebrate the new prince."
Zelda looked taken aback and horrified. "Another one? I thought the Queen had long died!"
"She did. The prince was adopted."
"Those Alteans…" Zelda muttered under her breath, crossing her arms and shifting her gaze out the windows thoughtfully. "Probably wanted a second suitor to up their chances."
"Zelda…"
She inclined her head forward - the only form of apology she would ever give.
"This new prince happened to be a knight under their service."
"Ah, another knight in shining armor? How original."
"Zelda…"
She inclined her head again. He sighed.
"And the Zoras will be coming over as well."
"Those fishes?" She asked, gripping her the armrests in indignation.
"Zoras, Zelda. You know, Prince Ralis and Ruto."
The princesses' nose scrunched at the name. "Ruto?" Her tone was heavy with distaste as she recounted her cousin's somewhat eccentric tendencies. "Lovely."
Her father picked up a quill and began tirelessly shuffling through the several laws and amendments before him.
A pause followed, the only sound being the scratch of ink on paper. Light seeped into the room, making the deep lines of his face more pronounced as he rubbed his brow in frustration, eyes reading diligently through the fancy script of letters.
"So?" Zelda leaned back on her heels, trying to seem interested for the sake of her obviously fatigue-stricken father. She knew the Councilmembers - an elite group of aspiring oligarchs - were not easy to deal with. They were testy old men with archaic minds and fickle tastes. "What is his name?"
Daphnes looked up at her, a twinkle in his old eyes. "His name is..."
"Link!"
The maiden giggled and her cheeks burned a shameful red, turning on her heels to give him a shy wave. The prince winked at her before continuing his stroll through the gardens, the late afternoon light taking residence in his hair, making it burn a sunset-yellow hue. Rauru beside him rolled his eyes.
Youngsters.
He had yet to meet any who was more cunning and devious than the new prince.
"Are you paying any attention at all, Link?" he grumbled.
Link looked back at him and smiled innocently. "Of course," he replied half-heartedly.
Rauru snorted, doubtful and not in the least taken by his charm. "Then repeat what I just said."
The smile stayed in place. "Hyrule was a vast kingdom that stretched from nearly twelve thousand years ago when the goddesses created it. It was found by the First Princess Zelda who formerly used to be a pirate, searching the seas for a new lands, one would soon flourish to the kingdom it is today," he finished with a triumphant grin, bowing modestly. "Continue, please."
Rauru scowled at his student and inwardly cursed his smoothness (for he himself had none). "Honestly, Link. It would do you some good if you'd let me humiliate you once in a while."
Link chuckled and surreptitiously winked at a female gardener who was so surprised she tripped over her shovel and sprawled on the dirt with a silent yelp. He started for her when Rauru held him back with his arm. "Stop distracting the castle staff and focus."
Link sighed and tuned back to Rauru with his hand up. "Sorry, it's just that…" he trailed off and looked down at his boot and mumbled something incoherent.
Rauru frowned and leaned forward a bit. "Sorry, what?"
Link mumbled something again.
"Pardon?"
Link spoke even softer.
"Speak up!" Rauru grinned goofily and Link's head jerked upwards, eyes flashing.
"I'm nervous, okay!"
Rauru's jaw dropped. "You…nervous?"
Link wasn't one to be nervous - the word was as alien to him as fun was to Rauru. He was bold, his manners all flair and charm, and he exuded enough self-possession to rival even the most powerful of lords. But now he seemed to have taken on an entirely new identity with his shifty eyes and pallid cheeks.
"Link?" Rauru, who was quite sure the end of the world was at hand, asked uncertainly.
The young man exploded, all composure draining away, and paced before the amused old man. "I'm nervous, okay?" he repeated in agitation. "I've never been to Hyrule! I don't know fine dining and all that! Heck, I've lived my whole life without the need to use a fork at all! How am I supposed to make a good impression?"
Rauru chuckled. "Link…"
"And the Princess! Oh gods, the princess Rauru! What if she throws me in the dungeons? I'm too attractive to rot in jail!"
"Link…."
"And the clothes! Don't even get me started on the fashion statements around here! It's ridiculous! I mean-"
"LINK!" the old man yelled.
"Eh?" Link stopped in the middle of his rant and faced him, eyes glazed and unfocused. "What?" he whipped his head to the side, then back again. "What?"
"Calm down, boy! Honestly, you young people today. Always making a big fuss over every little thing-"
"I am meeting the Hylian Royal Family, old man!"
"Don't start! And if you really want to impress, you need to listen to my teachings."
Link rolled his eyes and stopped, snatching up the scroll Rauru had just been reading out loud. "Hey!"
His student tucked it safely in his hands and smirked a little, his arrogant countenance returning. "It might be good if I study alone. Heaven knows there's nothing more boring than an old man droning on about history."
.
Marth peeked from the greenery and took a moment to step out of his hiding, scowling bitterly.
"Stupid Link…"
He trudged ahead with clenched fists and watched as his brother strode away, eyes glued to the parchment he held, a smirk quirking his lips as he rolled it together, causing Rauru to balk in protest.
The gardener had groaned slightly as she rubbed her forehead, the petal before her splayed messily. Marth stepped up behind her and she immediately froze when he spoke.
"Take my hand."
She whirled around, mud splattering on his riding boots at the movement, and her jaw dropped.
"Prince Marth! A thousand apologies, highness, I didn't mean for…" She bent over and tried to wipe away the stain.
The mud smeared with each swipe and she jerked back in alarm, fidgeting. "Sorry!"
He chuckled, bad mood disappearing.
He outstretched his hand and she looked at it hesitantly, then up at him through the rim of her straw hat. A tinge of pink came to her cheeks as she took it and he pulled her up with a small grunt. She dusted off and smiled shyly. "Thank you."
He realized with a start that she was quite pretty, with sheepish green eyes and a bright smile. Her hair was quite ratty at edges and long as it frizzed down her back in brown waves. "A pleasure. Please excuse my brother, he can be troublesome."
"Prince Link?" Her pink cheeks turned red instantly and she bit her lip. "Oh, it's fine. I never…"
He looked at her, a bit amused at the effect his brother had on girls. He smiled and she turned even redder, glancing down at her feet. "Please excuse my clumsiness. Your father will not be pleased to hear that I've destroyed an entire flowerbed."
Marth laughed and patted her shoulder, a flush coloring her cheeks at the unexpected contact. "I can't exactly say it'll matter much. My father cares little for plants."
"And your riding boots? I've ruined them and I'm afraid I cannot pay you back."
Their eyes met. "Well with the salary my father gives you, it's not entirely a shock."
She laughed suddenly and he smiled at the sound, taken aback by the flash of her teeth through pursed lips. It was simple, he knew; Zelda's was like music in comparison. But it was so carefree that he found himself liking it immensely.
"It's fine," he assured her again, eyes warm. "They were so shiny at first I could barely look at them. The mud is a nice touch."
They laughed together and his eyes twinkled. "What is your name?"
She looked at him surprised, and turned pink once more. "Diaselle."
Marth rose a brow. "Diaselle." He tasted the name, rolling it around in his head, then smirked. "Interesting name for such a pretty girl."
She smiled back. "You are much like your brother, Prince. I never knew 'till now."
"How so?"
"You talk in a way that can make any lady swoon."
He chuckled again, trying to ignore how his heart leapt at the compliment. Maybe...maybe he did have a chance. "I'm afraid that is my brother's department."
"I know one thing that you specialize at though."
"Which is…?"
She blushed and looked down again. "Chivalry."
Silence entered before he found himself saying. "I like you Diaselle."
She glanced at him in shock and stammered. "P-p-pardon?"
He smiled even wider. "It was nice meeting you, truly. I needed a laugh." She blushed and he winked, unable to help himself.
Looks like Link's rubbed off on me...
"I have a feeling we'll get along quite well."