Like everything planned by Hieronymous, the ball is extravagantly vulgar. Too-brightly-colored banners and decorations hang from the walls, clashing horribly with the blindingly bright, formal clothes waltzing around the room. Hieronymous has insisted the people wear extremely bright colors, not only as a happy tribute to the royal anniversary (which is what this ball celebrated), but also because he knew I would be gritting my teeth the entire time. I do not get away scot-free for refusing him, you see. He finds other ways to torture me.
Fortunately, my dress is not so terrible. I was wearing a lavender and white, floor-length gown, with intricate stitching decorating the bodice. One of the ladies-in-waiting has managed to gather my hair in a fashionable way atop my head, securing her work with thousands of pins and decorating it with pearls. My scalp is pricked every few steps, and my feet are screaming from the ridiculous shoes I am wearing, but I am having a fairly decent time. The music, played by an expert string band, is absolutely beautiful. I close my eyes and hear the dark thrum of the cello, humming the deep chords under my breath.
I do not know who I am currently dancing with. He is Lord...something or other. The ball had started out with Hieronymous and me dancing, alone, to the first tune. Oh what a joy that had been. It was all I could do to refrain myself from stabbing him with my deadly heels. Well, after that song had ended, the rest of the court joined in, and I was soon being passed from partner to partner. Lord Something or Other passes me on to another gentleman. Gentleman and I danced around the room, eventually waltzing past the windows on the south wall, which have been opened a crack to reduce the heat. As we float by, I froze. Quickly making a decision, I pretend to get lightheaded from the heat, which is still unbearable. Gentleman looks down at me with concern. "Are you feeling ill, Your Majesty?" There is frightened concern on his face. Ha. I told you I am loved.
I blink my eyes, as if dispelling dizziness, and reply weakly, "I'll soon be fine, dear sir. Thank you for your concern, but I just need a moment outside to regain my breath. Excuse me." With a queenly exit, I slip out the ballroom doors, making sure to keep up the fainting facade along the way. As soon as the cool night air hits me and the doors shut behind me, I kick off my shoes and walk, barefoot, toward the south end of the courtyard. There it is, what had drawn me outside in the first place: ocarina music. I had heard this tune countless of times as a child, from my nursemaid Impa, but also from another source. "Hmm...hm hm..hmhm hmm...hm hm...hmm...hm hmm...hm hmm...hmhm hmm..." I hum the tune lightly to myself and smile. Impa had dubbed this "Zelda's Lullaby," as it was the only thing that was able to lull me to sleep when I was distressed. Now, however, I find myself becoming more awake with anticipation rather than drifting to sleep, because I know whose mouth is coaxing those notes out of the ocarina.
As I walk past a final hedge, I see him sitting on a bench under the willow tree. The small creek twinkles in the moonlight, casting reflected wave-patterns onto his green tunic. His eyes are closed, his quick fingers flitting over the ocarina's holes. Although I had been quite upset earlier today, I find I can only smile as I step into the little garden. I have never been able to stay angry at him.
His blue eyes lazily open, latching onto mine, asking silently, "Am I forgiven?" His lips and hands continue playing the soft melody, the notes harmonizing with the cello and violin music drifting through the windows.
I simply smile and hold out my hand. "Dance with me, Hero."
He ends the song for a final time, letting the last note linger in the night air. Then he sets the pale blue instrument on the bench and rises, making his way toward me. In the proper fashion, he bows, arm across his midsection, and then offers his hand. I take it without hesitation.
I place one lace-gloved hand at his waist and another within his own leather-gloved one. His other hand rests lightly at my waist, and I can feel the heat emanating from his fingers through my silk, lavender gown. The fingers from my left hand and his right intertwine, fitting together perfectly. Slowly, we begin swaying back and forth, moving our feet to the whisper of music flitting into the courtyard air. I find that dancing is much more enjoyable when one's feet aren't incased into a shoe-iron maiden, of sorts. Perhaps dancing is more enjoyable also because of whom my partner is. Perhaps I like the way I can look into his sapphire-blue eyes without raising or lowering my head. Perhaps I feel safe in his grip, gentle, yet firm and protective. Perhaps I can't help but drift back into dreams I had wished upon so many times before, dreams in which I had not married Hieronymous, or any prince, for that matter.
He breaks the silence hesitantly, asking quietly, "So, are you still angry with me?" His blue eyes are so probing, intense, that I find myself averting my gaze.
I answer, "Not really, not anymore." I sigh and glance back into his eyes. "I'm more angry with myself, actually," Surprisingly, I find that this is exactly what I feel. My emotions always seem so much clearer when I'm in his presence. He manages to coax the truth out of me without even realizing it.
"You have no reason to be angry with yourself, Zelda," he answers me firmly, although I notice his gaze flicks over to the ring on my finger, the hand that was intertwined with his.
"Yes I do," I retort, years of disappointment and frustration spilling out. "I should have figured out how to break the curse instead of just stall its effects, I should have been stronger for my people, I should have pleaded to the Goddesses more, I should have refused to marry Hieronymous or anybody else, I should have had faith that you would return and rescue us, I...I should have never let you ride away at all!" I feel hot tears prickling my eyes. Oh dear. Years of apathy dammed up all this emotion, and now it's spilling out.
"Zelda," he softly says, and I decide I like the way he says my name, "First of all, how could you have imagined what Ganondorf would do, and how could you possibly figure out how to dispel his evil (if, indeed, there actually is a way) when you had an entire kingdom to worry about? You have always been a strong leader, confident in your actions, and I know your people see that. Praying? Hah. Goddesses be damned," I gasp slightly as he says this and he continues, chuckling a little, "Sorry, I suppose I've grown a bit bitter toward them in my absence. And as for me, well, I don't know if you could have stopped me. I was trying to find myself, I suppose, and I guess I didn't realize until years later that I've always known where to find myself after all," he pauses, lifting his hand from my waist in order to gently wipe a tear off my face. "Don't cry," he pleads, smiling at me.
Of course, I begin crying all the harder, both with joy and bitterness. I can't help but laugh at his uncomfortable face. Give the Hero of Time a dozen monsters to slay and a King of Evil to defeat, and he's fine, but give him a crying woman and he has no idea how to handle himself.
We dance in silence for a while more, and I eventually regain control of myself. His eyes stay focused on me, despite the beauty of the garden, and I can't help but feel flattered. I begin to think of the present situation, and find myself asking, "What are you doing here?...No, I mean, I'm glad you're here, but what are you doing here in Rothester?"
He smiles at my stammering and answers, "Well, I'm just staying at an inn right now, keeping a low profile. Since there aren't many "Hero" positions open, I'm planning to enter the military...or maybe become a royal bodyguard for the queen," his eyes twinkle as he says this, and I find that his smile is infectious.
"I suppose I'll have to put in a good word for you," I say airily, blowing a stray strand of hair out of my face, "After all, who would hire a ruffian like you anyway?" Playfully, the corners of my mouth creep into a smile despite my efforts.
His face suddenly turns mock-arrogant, and he says, "Well, I doubt that will be necessary, my dear. After all," I laugh as he unexpectedly dips me, his strong hand supporting my back, "I am incredibly talented," his face is only inches from mine, and I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks. Damned fantasies, slipping into my head at the most inopportune times.
Unfortunately, we both are startled out of the moment as we hear a distant voice calling, "Your Majesty? Queen Zelda?" I sigh as he lifts me back into a vertical stance and slowly retracts his fingers from mine.
"You're being summoned, I suppose," he says, his face gloomy with disappointment.
My expression is no doubt a reflection of his. I guess I can't go five minutes alone somewhere without being bothered. I look at him, my eyes apologetic, and tentatively say, "So, when shall I see you again?"
He smiles, simply says, "Soon," and begins walking towards the bench. After he picks up the Ocarina of Time and securely places it in one of his pouches, he adds, "Oh, and I promise
you won't have to wait nearly as long as ten years." With a half-serious, half-joking smile, he hookshots into the top of a tree that reaches over the wall. His eyes lock with mine one last time, blue meeting blue, and then he slips over the garden wall.
I sigh and slowly walk over to the bench, sitting down on the cold, veined marble. Moments later, a couple of ladies and lords round the corner, their gait as hurried as possible (after all, the ladies are still wearing heels.)
"Oh, Your Majesty, thank heaven!" Blonde-haired lady (all right, so I'm not great with names) clasps her hand delicately to her heart.
"Your Majesty had disappeared for so long that I had feared Your Majesty had succumbed to some illness!" Gentleman adds. I expected him to add one more "Your Majesty" just for good measure. No? Hmm. Surprising.
"No, dear sirs and ladies. I am quite well, but thank you for your concern. The beauty of the garden simply distracted me," I reply politely, although inside I am screaming, "Damn you, why must you worry over every tiny, minuscule thing?! Might I just have wanted a walk in the courtyard?! I was having a perfectly fine time with a certain hero when you interrupted us!"
Gathering myself, I force myself to ask, "Is the ball coming to a close, or is there dancing to be done yet?"
Lady..uh..Canary (ugh, what an awful yellow dress) answers, "Your Majesty, I believe the evening is nearly done. People are dispersing to their rooms as we speak, I assume, Your Majesty."
"Very well," I nod, "then I shall simply return to my room as well." With this statement, I rise from the bench and head toward the ballroom doors. I need to pick up my shoes, after all.
