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The earth feels warm beneath her feet. Zelda curls her bare toes in the dirt and grins, tilting her head back to let the sunshine wash over her face.
She is not supposed to be outside the castle walls by herself—not ever. But her eighth birthday is a week away and Papa has the seamstresses working hard on her dress. If Zelda lets them catch her, it'll mean hours of standing perfectly still—Princess, please don't touch your hair; no, Princess, lunch is not until noon—while they drape her with all kinds of different cloth and make her try on uncomfortable shoes.
So when the seamstresses stepped out of her bedroom to gather materials after taking her measurements, Zelda climbed out the window using the thick ivy that grew on the castle's wall, and now she is here, her shoes kicked off and her headscarf discarded, running through the fields with the sun on her face and her hair streaming out behind her. She knows the paths the guards walk while on patrol; Impa made her memorize them in case she ever needed to find a guard for help. It is the easiest thing in the world to skirt the moat and the guards entirely, then climb the hill to get around the main gate.
Castle Town opens up before her like the pop-up books Papa used to read to her, bright and colorful and new. Compared to the solid quiet that is Zelda's life at the castle, this place seems so loud and full of movement everywhere. And there are people everywhere, people with all different clothes and voices and skin colors. She has only ever seen this place through the window of a carriage, surrounded by guards; she thinks she likes it better like this.
Zelda freezes when a guard walks by her, thinking her adventure is over before it really started, but he just gives her a glance and keeps going. She giggles, then; of course he wouldn't recognize the Princess of Hyrule with her hair loose and her feet bare and dirty, wearing the plain tunic and trousers she borrowed (stole) from a servant boy's dresser.
She walks around the market place, her mouth watering at all the food the vendors have on display, but she has no coin with her. She pets the dogs and the Cuccoos wandering around, and tries to talk with the vendors minding their stalls. Most of them just shoo Zelda away, disregarding her as an irritating child—that surprises her. At the castle, everyone stops to listen to what she has to say.
When she stops to peer over the edge of the fountain, though, a redheaded girl about Zelda's age starts to chat with her. Her name is Malon, and she lives on a ranch and has the laziest father in the world. "What's your name?" she asks.
"Carmine," Zelda answers—the name of her history teacher. She tells Malon that her father sells books in a city to the north, and that she is waiting for him to return from picking up new supplies.
"My dad makes me wait too," Malon laughs, and hands her a bottle of milk. The glass bottle feels cool and smooth under her hands in the summer heat, and Zelda likes the sound of the cork popping open. The milk is warm and creamy and rich; it tastes of adventure. She thanks her new friend and promises to come back soon.
Somehow, she ends up away from the crowds and the vendors' stalls. Here, only one building looms before her, almost swallowed up by the trees surrounding it. Zelda knows her castle is much greater in size, but somehow this place seems bigger, with its huge dark windows and old stone walls. It scares her a little, and she holds her breath as she pushes open the doors, curious to know what dwells within.
Inside is all black and white and grey, with the only color coming from the golden Triforce symbol emblazoned high up on the far wall. Zelda walks forward, her hands twitching at her sides uncertainly, and stares at the empty pedestal, at the stained-glass windows, at the stairs leading up to a massive door, sealed shut.
She has a rush of feelings she doesn't understand; regret, longing, sadness. She doesn't know this place, but she feels like it knows her, and that puts enough fear in her heart to make her take a shaky step back.
"Princess!"
The voice rings out suddenly, startling her, but it's only Impa, striding towards her from the doorway with her hands fisted at her side. Zelda bites her lip; she knows she's in trouble, but she is a little glad to see her guardian in this unfamiliar place.
"What are you doing out here?!" Impa demands, but through the fury Zelda can hear her relief.
Suddenly she feels bad for running away. "I didn't want to get fitted for a dress," she admits.
"Great Sheikah Eye," Impa groans, rubbing her forehead. "You know you can't be out on your own. The world is a dangerous place, Princess."
"I know," Zelda says meekly, reaching for her guardian's hand. "I'm sorry." Impa softens and wraps Zelda's hand with hers, calloused and rough and warm.
"Don't do that again, you hear?" she says as they walk out of the building. "Dress fittings may be boring, but nothing so trivial is worth risking your life. You only do that for the things that truly matter. Are you listening?"
Zelda is listening, halfheartedly, but mostly she is looking back at the mark of the Triforce on the wall. "What is this place?" she asks.
"The Temple of Time," Impa replies as they step out into the sunlight and let the doors click shut behind them. "You know, your birthday ball will not be as bad as you expect it to be."
Zelda thinks of how the cook always makes her favorite foods, and how the cake is huge and frosted in pink, Zelda's favorite color. Nobles come from all over to shower her with gifts and compliments. Maybe Princess Ruto, who is funny and daring, and her quirky father will be there. Or Darunia, the big Goron chief with a laugh like an earthquake. Maybe Papa will let her invite Malon.
Zelda lets Impa lead her away while her mind drifts off to happier things. Still, before they turn the corner, she casts one more look at the temple where her destiny lies in wait, like a panther crouched before the kill.
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notes 1: Hi and welcome to my new fic, Wisdom! I am planning to do somewhere between 15 and 20 chapters, unless things get out hand. Which they often do. The rest of the story will be written in past tense, except for the epilogue.
notes 2: There will probably be some Zelink in here (because I can't help myself) but not any kind of fleshed-out romantic relationship. Also, if Zelda seems rather mature for her age, that's because she's a princess. She has been taught to act like an adult.
disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda is not mine.