Change The World
Prologue: Transformation

(Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, settings, characters, nor the song Change The World by Nellie McKay are mine.)

Oh what do I care?
What should I wear?
What do I care?
What does it matter
If I change the world at all?


There hadn't been a moment of comfort since she returned, since her body and mind had carefully been reclaimed from him. Some small part of her knew that no matter what had happened to the mass of her body, it was not her, it was not her soul that had used it.

Unfortunately, that bit of her conciousness seemed to be in the minority. Her body betrayed her, had a memory of its own. Her hands went for the breeches that she kept at the bottom of her wardrobe every time, and only the light brush of fingers against the multitude of dresses brought her back to her senses.

So many thoughts lingered in her guilty mind, so many rationalizations for her behavior. She was the Princess, not some...stealthy boy from a tribe long extinct. She was simply feeling the urge to rebel, like all young people. The urge to be different, and there was such a convient excuse right there! Of course she felt a little warmer and a little more giddy around the ladies of the Court; she longed to be friends with them, that was all. Perfectly reasonable.

She knew she could lie to those around her all day long. That these excuses would fly, would be accepted. Poor girl, locked away for seven years, only to emerge and have to carry the whole of Hyrule on her shoulders!

But to the Princess Zelda, of the Royal Line of Hyrule, one of the Seven Sages and holder of the Triforce of Wisdom...these excuses were the most false and hollow things she had ever heard; most especially when one took into account that tonight, she escaped from her Court early, retreating to her room and claiming a headache.

Her fingers trembled as she closed the heavy door behind her, locking it from the inside. Her heart pounded, as she slid the royal dress down from her shoulders, stepping gracefully out of a puddle of silk and saffron. The few steps from her place to the wardrobe felt like an eternity; binding her chest was another ordeal of itself.

Eternity and three minutes later, she glanced into the intricate mirror beside her wardrobe, a flawless glass that cost a small fortune itself, to say nothing of the carvings in the wooden frame. Light armor under her blue-and-white outfit did wonders to hide an obviously-feminine figure, and a little (mis)use of the magic Impa taught her once long ago to change her hair, her eyes. Anyone who cared to look close enough would be think this strange woman--no, young man--to be a lost descendant of the Royal Family.

And so, her body betrayed her again, and its own memory led her to the window, pushing it open just enough to slip through, and away into the night.

--end;prologue--