The Pauper Princess

By,

Victoire Faye

Child's Tears

"Come now, child. Your Father awaits you." The old nurse maid bent down to meet the young Princess, who stood timidly in her bedroom. She was no more that five winters old, and trembled where she stood. Her large blue eyes looked at her maid, filled with fear and inquiry. Her angelic features shone by candlelight. The old woman took the young girls hand, and knelt down upon the

floor, reaching a weathered hand to the girl's rosy cheek.

"Zelda, he needs you now." The young girl choked back tears and nodded, and the maid led her into the castle halls. "She is such a poor dear," the maid thought to herself, "poor dear." Her fair mother passed shortly after her birth, and she was left with only her Father, the constantly busy yet loving King of Hyrule. He'd remarried to a noble woman, who seemed nice enough but never took a liking to her small step daughter, yet every single staff member in the palace looked upon the girl as his or her own child. She was fed midnight snacks in the kitchens by cooks, and hoisted up to stroke the royal horse's noses by the stable workers. She was told stories by her nannies, and proclaimed a delight by all. How unfortunate that pity should befall her again.

Her father now lay in his bed, inches from the grave. He had been ill for quite a while, and all the while his wife stood above his bed, ignoring his request to look upon his daughter but one last time. Finally, the Queen allowed her to be summoned.

The maid pushed the young, hesitant girl through the door to her father's death bed, the young Zelda tripping on her thick skirts. She met the King's bed side, and knelt before him, her tiny hands folded. The King's gaze met her own, and his eyelids hung like heavy curtains upon his gaunt face. He was pale and his hair seemed ragged. No one had slipped a word of warning to the Princess, but she knew her Father was dying.

"Papa," she spoke in a broken voice.

"Zelda, my beautiful Zelda." He smiled fondly upon her, as if he was lost in memory. "You've made me proud, and I know you'll grow into a wonderful young woman, a monarch. Be honorable Zelda, follow your heart. It will show you what's just, what is right."

"Papa, don't leave me." She threw her arms over him, and pressed her head against his blankets.

He kissed her head, and lifted her chin up to meet her tear streaked face. "I have to go, Zelda. I have to go." She whimpered, and the tears flowed down her face in thick rivulets.

"Be strong for me, my child, be strong." She nodded. Her father contemplated her face once again.

"You remind me so much of your mother." He smiled. "So beautiful."

"That's enough." A cold voice barked from a darkened corner of the room, and her stepmother, Narcissa, stepped into the light. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun, and her dark eyes were perched above an arched nose. She was adorned in too many jewels, and she wore a lavish gown, far to luxurious for one who would soon be in mourning. With pursed lips, she commanded. "Nurse, take that girl away from here. Can't you see she's upsetting the King?"

The nurse pried the princess away, holding the crying girl who still reached for her father, she spoke out. "'That girl' is the Princess, and the only heir to the throne."

The queen turned, "What did you say? How dare you speak back to me!"

"Begging your pardon, Ma'am, begging your pardon." She carried the distraught child to her chambers, suddenly feeling tears in her own aged eyes.

Zelda sat up in her bed, meeting with the dark night. She hadn't been able to sleep. Not after the events of the night. A noise at her door reached her, and she stood to meet whoever entered. Never had she felt so lonely.

Her stepmother entered with a slate-like face, and stared down upon her.

"Can I see my father?" She cried out before the woman could say anything.

She hesitated. "Of course, Zelda. Follow me."

Zelda followed her stepmother with trust, and contemplated whether or not the woman had ever called her by her given name. It wasn't before they were deep withing the castle that she realized that they were not on the path to her father's room.

"Forgive me, Stepmother," Zelda bowed, her long hair nearly touching the ground. "I do not think this is the way to my Father's chambers."

"And why would we be going there?" She asked coldly.

"Milady, you said-"

"Curse what I told you. Your Father is dead." She turned around form her path. "We are going to The West Tower, where I can lock you up and be rid of you. Poor fool! You cannot rule Hyrule, you are but a mere child, and ignorant child! You will not take my throne."

Zelda cried "Stepmother..." The lady seized toward her and she tried to run, but her Stepmother pulled the hem by her nightgown and she fell into a heap on the ground. Narcissa pulled the small girl onto her shoulders and tried to carry her up a flight of stairs. Zelda kicked and screamed out, and near the top of the stone steps Narcissa let go of the failing girl, and the Princess was sent tumbling down the stone steps and onto the landing many feet below.

Footsteps where heard down a corridor, and Narcissa gasped in fear of being discovered. A guard met her with panic.

"What happened?"

"Oh thank God it's only you, Mark. It seems the Princess has fallen down the steps in a tantrum." Narcissa spoke in sadistic color and calmness. She cocked her head to the left to examine the sprawled body of Zelda. The comrades walked down to meet her, and Narcissa bent down and turned her body over.

"Is she dead?" Mark asked.

"No, she's bleeding though," she pressed her hand to the red fluid spilling from a gash upon her forehead and onto her night dress. "It's likely her arm is broken as well."

"Don't worry Milady, she won't remember a thing when she comes to. I've seen it before." He tried to assure her, but in actuality he inspired her.

"Yes, perhaps that's better." She sneered. "I need a favor of you."

The poor Zelda was taken from the castle, and deposited to the claws of the world.

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A/N: Whoa, I've been publishing like crazy lately. I've been rater sick, and my Mom's on buisness so I'm in France by my lonesome. Mostly I've been with my friends around town (It's a crazy city when you're under the influence of Nyquil) but I've also found time to pull out some of these ideas floating in my head. More to come promptly. Hope you like it!