Chapter 7

Zelda's costume was incomplete. For all that she was dressed as an ancient Queen of Hyrule, her gown a mix of golden armour and delicately embroidered satin, her collarline, which had been left deliberately ungarnished, was missing a brooch.

It was a shame. The rubies and the gold had been the perfect matching shade for the red, pink and white of her clothes. Even her shoes and her mask, which were adorned in smaller rubies, had been created to match.

But worse still was the thought that she had lost a precious gift from her father. The thought ached like a bullet hole in her mind.

Misko hardly noticed. In his costume ― a highway bandit, it looked like, or perhaps an ancient trouvère ― he looked as elegant and aloof as always. Paya had found a costume for him that would allow him to dance to his heart's content. Looking at him now, Zelda had to admit he wore tights very comfortably. Good for him.

She looked away from her companion, trying not to resent him for not feeling sick anymore, and looked at Midna.

Midna had decided to dress as an imp― how appropriate. But, much like all of Midna's costumes, her version of an imp involved showing a lot of leg and cleavage. It it hadn't been for the telltale script embroidery on her dark robes and the beautifully carved mask currently sitting atop her fire bright hair, Zelda might have accused her of simply dressing for allure.

Not for the first time, Zelda found herself wishing she were in the garden instead.

The door creaked open, and Paya entered. Midna let out a low whistle. Paya had selected a beautiful, possibly genuine Ancient Sheikah maiden costume. It certainly had all the traditional trappings of a proper cultural artpiece ―the historic hairpin, the ample thickly-quilted sleeves, the embroidered sashes― so that the final effect was absolutely stunning.

"Oh, Paya, you're beautiful," Zelda said, wishing her costume were as complete.

Paya took this compliment as she took all compliments: shyly. In fact, she was flushed to her ears and seemed unable to look Zelda in the eye, though she thanked both Midna and Misko when they complimented her as well.

"Most of the guests are already downstairs," Paya said. "If you're ready to come down."

It didn't matter, Zelda mourned. Link wouldn't be there. "Alright," she said instead. "Lead the way."

She took Misko's arm reluctantly, and saw Midna greet her companion for the night with detached politeness.

Zelda's mind was elsewhere, though. It was curled up in front of a fire, kissing Link. It was gliding across a dance floor. It was stumbling into Link's hard knee. It was gawking at a handsome gardener, wondering just what it was Paya was feeding her men, and could she have one…

Orphan Link. Commoner Link. Heroic, selfless, patient, wonderful Link. Ridiculously attractive Link. Not her Link. Tragically.

Paya led the way downstairs, and soon Zelda heard the music and the hum of conversation. They all slipped on their masks, and Zelda felt a silly fluttering of childish happiness in her chest.

"Paya, darling," Midna said, when they entered, "you've outdone yourself."

She wasn't kidding. For the first time in all of Paya's soirées, the ballroom was only darkly illuminated, the lighting warm but low, casting the dancing shadows of revellers high against the walls. Masked men and women mingled as one, and the low light created additional mystery, making features harder to discern.

The wreaths and decorations were festive, highly traditional of Midwinter, and the food tables were covered in delicacies and sweets of all sorts. It was feast for the senses, a delight to behold.

And Zelda only barely cared.

"It's beautiful," she said, nonetheless.

"I do have my staff to thank," Paya said, humbly. She cast a significant glance at Zelda, but Zelda pretended not to notice. "They all worked so hard. I'm glad they get a chance to celebrate tomorrow."

It was absurd to be more interested in that particular event than in this one. Paya's Midwinter Masque was the social event of the season. It was little wonder Misko had worked so hard to feel better.

"Would milady like to dance?" Misko asked, all courtesy. He was puffed up with pride.

Well. She'd have to pass the time some way or other. "Alright." She placed her hand on his and let him guide her to the floor, leaving Paya and Midna behind. She did see Paya lean in to speak hurriedly into Midna's ear, but could hardly find it in herself to care.

Maybe, Zelda considered, she was depressed. Over a gardener. How foolish.

Well. He was a handsome gardener. She allowed Misko to lead and followed absently, lost in thought. A handsome gardener with a smile that could melt the hardest of hearts. And those lips… She very nearly sighed.

A handsome gardener who had jumped in to rescue her from almost certain death. Those, she knew, were not in common supply. When the newspapers caught wind of this, possibly tomorrow if rumours continued to function as they always did, he'd be hailed as a hero.

Her hero. It was blasted unfair that it would go no further. He had certainly not argued or fought to keep his role as her companion. And who would? She attracted no end of ambitious social climbers who continually caused trouble for him.

The memory of Lord Ghirahim very nearly made her scowl. Paya had promised that the investigators would look into him, beginning with his personal room. If any signs of premeditation were found, Zelda would see to it that he would be prosecuted to the fullest extent.

After all, Link might not have cared for her as she did for him, but that did not give anyone the right to murder him.

As Misko guided Zelda expertly through a spin, she caught a glimpse over his shoulder of the windows that looked out into the east garden. It was snowing, and the fat flakes that Paya had so fretted about were drifting lazily down beyond the glass, visible only because of the darkness in the ballroom and the lights strung about out of doors. It looked like a fairyland, like something out of a storybook, and Zelda desperately wished she were out there, on the arm of a simple gardener, instead of in here.

"Is all well, milady?" Misko asked.

Zelda looked at her companion and forced a smile, feeling guilty for wishing he was someone else. Yes, Misko was a bit puffed with his own importance, but his manners and training were impeccable. And he was handsome, his pale, silvery looks carefully selected by the escort service to offset her own golden hair and bright eyes. He'd been her companion so long they'd even developed their own code, a series of taps on the arm or subtle gestures of the fingers to indicate what she wanted: come closer, give me a moment of privacy, fetch me a drink, get this person to leave…

And yet, after only a few hours, Link hadn't needed that kind of coaching. He'd been able to look at her and simply know.

"Highness?"

Misko looked concerned now, and Zelda realized she'd been staring at him.

"I apologize," she said. "I fear I've not quite recovered from my trip into the water today. It's left me a little… discomposed." She summoned a wan smile and tried for levity. "I am afraid I will have much need of your human shielding services this evening."

Misko looked concerned, but nodded. He didn't offer to help her sneak out, and she tried not to feel a pang in her stomach. She was almost certain that Link would've…

No. No more comparing. This had to stop now. Link was out of her life, and she needed to make her peace with that.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," she said, figuring that maybe speaking the lie could make it more truthful. Misko smiled.

"As am I," he said. "I felt so terrible for abandoning you at the last minute like that. I wouldn't have if I hadn't been practically at death's door…"

Zelda was sure. Though he'd received offers of movies, modeling jobs, and even a TV show, Misko had remained unwaveringly loyal to Zelda. She was never sure if that loyalty was emotional or pragmatic: as her escort, Misko had his own fan following, and though he wasn't allowed to endorse any brands or speak publicly on his opinions, the fame he gained from being at her side made for a very comfortable life for him.

"... heard they replaced me with a gardener," Misko continued. "So of course I knew I couldn't leave you alone, and put all my willpower into ushering the healing process along."

Wait. Was he talking about Link?

"I'm so sorry for abandoning you, highness. Tell me… was it truly awful?"

He was talking about Link.

"Not at all," said Zelda. "Given the situation, everyone performed admirably."

Misko seemed to want to push for details, but his training prevented him from doing so. That was the nice thing about Misko: he never, ever pushed her, or said or did anything to make her forget that she was the princess, and he was her employed attendant.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? Nobody ― nobody except occasionally Midna or Paya ― ever let Zelda forget what she was: a princess. Only a few people saw her as a woman.

She hated that.

Fortunately, Misko had apparently determined on his own that Zelda wasn't up to another dance just now, and he'd begun leading her on her usual slow circle of the room… beginning at the refreshments table. Zelda's eyes skated over the delectable food. Ordinarily, she'd have put Misko to work loading up a towering plate for her immediately ― there was no formal dinner tonight, only dancing and an incredible assortment of finger foods ― but her appetite was curiously absent.

As she dispassionately eyed a platter of foie gras bouchées and wondered if it was worth it to make Misko fetch her one, his stomach gave a loud grumble beside her. He pinkened, and Zelda found herself laughing for the first time that evening.

"Oh, do fetch yourself something, Misko," she told him. "I'm not hungry yet, but I won't be offended if you eat."

"Oh, but highness…" Misko started, red all the way to his the tips of his ears.

"Eat," Zelda said again, glad to be smiling. She felt a little prickle between her shoulder blades. "Or do you plan to make me listen to your stomach sing all evening?"

He was still blushing, but he nodded once and quickly filled up a little plate for himself. While his attention was on the buffet table, Zelda surveyed the room, wondering what it was she'd just felt. She was used to the sensation of eyes on her, but that… She surveyed the room. Nobody stuck out to her her. Funny. It has almost felt like…

No. It couldn't be.

She shook off the wish ― stupid, hopeful, deluded wish ― and turned back to Misko, determined to put any lingering thoughts of the gardener out of her mind. But as she did, she caught a flash of brilliant blue out of the corner of her eye, and turned back.

A man in the costume of an ancient Champion was slowly weaving through the crowd. Zelda couldn't help but admit that he wore the sky-blue tunic, braided bracers, and sturdy trousers well. He wore a traditional black Hylian Hood over the ensemble, and moved as though he'd been born to wear the outfit. A mask obscured his face beneath the hood. He moved unnoticed through the room, but something about him caught and held Zelda's attention. What was it? Why? Was he approaching her?

By the time she realized he was getting closer, he came to a stop before her and bowed.

"Highness," said a familiar voice. "May you be heir to a throne of nothing but joy."

Zelda gaped for a long moment. Her heart apparently forgot to beat for a breath or two, because once she realized who she was talking to ― and what he was saying ― it kicked into overdrive, soaring like a bird and beating at her ribcage like a horse's hooves.

"Link," she hissed. "What― You're here ― You found…?!"

"Highness," said Misko suddenly, "who―"

"I'm fine, Misko," she said without turning to him. "Please go eat your dinner."

She could feel him hesitating behind her. Then he shuffled off, his movements slow and reluctant. Zelda didn't bother to watch him go. She kept her eyes fixed on Link.

"Miss Purah found your brooch," Link told her. "It'll be returned to you before the night is over."

Zelda closed her jaw.

"Where was it?" She forced herself to ask with detached calm, as though her mind wasn't spinning in frantic, overexcited circles. He was here! What did it mean, though, that he was here? Had he just come to tell her about the brooch? Was that it?

"An unsavory person tried to use it to cause mischief," Link said, smoothly sidestepping an answer. "So we decided to put it back to work. Don't worry ― you'll be reunited with it soon. I promise."

She nodded dumbly.

"Thank you," she said, calling on every ounce of her finishing school training to remain composed. "I appreciate you getting dressed up and coming down here to tell me that it's been located."

"Actually," he said, his eyes sparkling behind the mask, and Zelda wondered how she hadn't known immediately that it was him, "the brooch was only part of the reason I came."

"Oh?" Zelda was trying very hard for nonchalance. "What's the rest of it?"

"I wanted to see you."

How could five little words mean so much, and so little? Zelda's mind stuttered, grasping. He wanted to see her? But… but why? Maybe he was here to apologize? Sweet fool.

"If this is about earlier, please let me assure you, I don't..."

"Zelda." Her jaw popped right open again at the sound of her name on his lips… here… in public. He held out a hand. She automatically put hers into it, and his lips quirked up. "Dance with me?"

His fingers were warm. The leather of his replica gauntlets concealed the calluses that Zelda knew were on his palms. She felt strangely bereft without the scrape of them against her gloves.

"You want to dance with me?" She repeated.

"I do."

"But you're not my escort anymore."

"I know." His eyes were steady on hers.

"You snuck back in here to ask me to dance?"

Now he was starting to look exasperated.

"Miss Paya warned me you have a habit of overthinking things," he said instead. "Are you going to dance with me or not?"

She squinted at him suspiciously.

"Is this a trick?" She thought about Midna and all of her impish schemes. This was precisely the kind of thing the shameless troublemaker might find entertaining. "Did the Countess of Twilight put you up to this?"

"No and no. I'm here because I want to be." His thumb smoothed over the back of her hand in a ressurring caress. As he looked at her, his eyes narrowed, as though he'd realized something. "Nobody put me up to anything. I'm here because I wanted to see you and dance with you."

"But―"

"I'd also like to state," he continued, cutting her off, "that you look beautiful in your costume, but I'm disappointed you didn't come dressed as something mundane."

"Mund― what are you talking about?" Was he drunk? He was making no sense.

"You're a lovely princess," Link told her. "But you're lovelier when you're yourself."

Most women, Zelda reflected, wanted the man they loved to say they looked like princesses. It said something about her that it made her deliriously happy to hear that Link liked her when better she was normal.

"Yes," she said, feeling as though her feet had lifted her clear off the ground. "I will dance with you."

Link smiled now― a real smile― and Zelda realized that even though he'd projected confidence, he'd been nervous.

"I'd hoped you would," he said as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "I was going to feel really stupid if I'd had to go crawling back to Purah's workshop with my tail between my legs because you turned me down."

"Purah?" They found a spot on the dance floor and stepped into hold. "Isn't that the name of Miss Paya's seamstress?"

"Yes." Link's smile was a little more like a grimace. "She's apparently decided that I'm her new favorite dress-up toy."

Zelda couldn't fault the seamstress for that. Feeling bold ― feeling like she'd had an entire bottle of champagne, even though she hadn't had a drop yet tonight ― Zelda ran a hand appreciatively down Link's arm. When she'd seen him before, he'd been in layers of heavy costuming, starched suit, or thick coat. But the tunic and shirt of his Champion's outfit were far thinner than those, and for the first time, she could feel the distinct ridge of muscles earned from a career of hard work in the outdoors. It was so different from the carefully-sculpted gym muscles of the men she knew ― he was so different from the other men she knew ― that a thrill shot through her.

"She does a good job," Zelda said admiringly.

"You'll have to tell her so," Link said. "She'd probably explode with happiness on the spot."

Zelda nodded. This dance was a slow, simple one, and she was enjoying the heat of Link's body pressed against her own. He was so warm ― even in the water, when she'd felt like she was dying of cold, his touch had seared her.

Which reminded her.

"About earlier," Zelda said. "What Lord Ghirahim tried to do… I just want you to know… Again, I'm sorry."

He cocked his head to the side, quizzical, and Zelda suddenly felt just as nervous as she had the first time she'd met him, when he'd turned around in the garden and the beauty of him had knocked all sense and decorum out of her head. True to form, she began to babble.

"I mean― that is to say, I'm sorry he tried to kill you, but I'm not sorry I pushed you, though I am sorry you had to come into the water after me― it was very cold, and that was very brave of you, but it wasn't a surprise that you're brave, because you'd have to be brave to come out here with me night after night, but ― oh, I'm not saying that I expected you to come into the water after me, because I certainly didn't. In fact, that was the furthest thing from my mind when I pushed you. I just didn't want you to be hurt, but then of course you got hurt anyway, although when I saw you'd jumped in after me I thought 'of course Link jumped in after me' but ― I'm not saying I'm glad you nearly died, because I'm not, it's just that if anyone was going to save me―"

"Zelda," Link said, his voice patient and deeply amused, "it's fine."

"But you nearly died," she spluttered.

"I was more worried about you," he said. The hand on her back slipped a little lower― an unconscious gesture, Zelda was sure, but still a thrilling one. "And besides, if I hadn't jumped in after you, we wouldn't have been in the cabin together." Heat came into those blue eyes. "And I'm not sorry about that. I… I hope you aren't, either."

She gaped at him.

He'd meant that kiss.

Happiness soared within her.

"Of course not," she managed after a moment. "Goddesses, Link, I'd been hoping you would do that since you showed up at my door that first night and said my dress looked like flowers."

"Oh, good," he said, looking cheerful. "We're on the same page, then."

They danced for a moment longer. Zelda's heart was thundering. It was the start of the evening. Nobody was drunk yet ― well, a few die-hards were, but everyone else was sober…

Screw it. She moved closer to Link so their bodies were flush, and she laid her head on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you came back," she breathed, feeling vulnerable and alive. "I was afraid I would never see you again."

"I don't think I could have stayed away," he responded, his voice a rumble in her ear. "You should have seen it. I was completely miserable, determined to let you go because I thought that was what you wanted, and then Miss Paya set me straight."

"Paya?" Zelda looked up, aghast. "She's never interfered in my life before."

"She cares about you. Deeply. And…" he paused, as though steeling himself. "So do I."

Zelda exhaled slowly.

"I like you," he told her. "I want to spend more time with you― with the real you. With Zelda, not with the princess."

"What," Zelda said as humorously as she could, though her heart was beating like mad. "You haven't enjoyed all these fancy events?"

"They've been alright," Link agreed. "But only because I've been able to spend them with you."

The matter-of-fact statement made her head and her heart soar. Giddy, Zelda laid her head down against his shoulder again, wanting to touch him as much as she could.

"I feel the same," she breathed. "You've been the best part of this week, Link."

His hold on her tightened, squeezing her gently for a moment, but he didn't respond. They danced in silence for a few moments. Zelda's mind was whirling. After a moment, she gave voice to her thoughts.

"What do we do now?" Her voice was low, pitched to carry to his ear only. "Your life is here, and mine is… a mess."

"We'll figure it out," he said with assurance. "You're smart and I can be irritatingly persistent. We'll put our heads together and come up with something."

"Irritatingly persistent?" Zelda asked, amused.

"Er―" Now, Link sounded embarrassed, but Zelda was too comfortable to lift her head and check his expression for herself. "It was something Hilda used to say about me."

Zelda sighed.

"Hilda," she said with relish, "was an idiot."

"Yeah." Zelda had been worried she'd hear hurt in Link's voice, but now all she heard was a kind of wry amazement. "She was. But that's a good thing for us."

Zelda smiled.

"Us," she repeated. "I like the sound of that."

"Me too," Link agreed.

"Well, isn't this charming?" A mellow, arch voice cut between them, piercing their little bubble of contentment like a sharp blade. "The princess and the thief."

Zelda looked up. Ghirahim was standing there, fuming, Lady Cia beside him. Rather than wearing a mask, the Duke's face was painted, his eyes ringed with purple, his lips frosted white. He wore an odd harlequin outfit with a cape ― Zelda figured it must have been some tribute to Faron's mythology, which she didn't know much about ― and Lady Cia seemed to have taken the opportunity to wear the tiniest shreds of fabric she could find, which had clearly been adhered to her body with costume glue. Judging by her hooked mask, she was meant to be a sorceress of some sort, but Zelda didn't think any sorceress in history had ever worn such ridiculous clothes. She would've had to use all of her magic just to keep her nipples covered.

The diplomatic thing would be to diffuse the situation. But right about then, Zelda didn't feel particularly diplomatic. "Please go away, my lord," Zelda said. "Don't you think you've done enough damage for one day?"

Lord Ghirahim's pale face went bloodless, then red.

"He," he said, jabbing a finger at Link, "is nothing but a commoner, and worse ― a thief. He stole your jewelry." Lord Ghirahim's dark eyes narrowed, and an ugly kind of triumph came into his face. He paused, clearly for dramatic effect. Zelda wondered if he was resisting the urge to strike a pose. Then, with relish, he said: "He's just like his parents in that."

Link stiffened in sudden surprise. Around them, people were breaking out of hold, turning to watch the spectacle.

"What do you mean," Link asked slowly, "just like my parents?"

"Well, well," said Ghirahim, tossing his pale hair. "The green boy speaks. I had my investigators look into your history. That orphanage you grew up must not have even tried to find anything, because it was laughably easy to discover who your parents were and learn their sordid history."

Link looked carefully blank. "You're lying," he said simply.

"I had the best investigators in the country on this. Princess, perhaps you've heard of a little firm called the Sages?" Of course she had: they were the private firm that the royal family used when the Royal Guard was unavailable. At Zelda's wooden nod Ghirahim continued, clearly relishing the drama: "They found that this one's father was nothing but a common thief. He was in a gang, can you imagine? And then his mother…" Ghirahim shook his head with mock sadness. "Her story's a sad one. Junkie. Started selling her body to fund her drug habit. That was how she met Arn ― that was his father's name, you know. Apparently they fell in love. Once you were born, they were going to start a new life together, but Arn wanted to pull off one last heist. He tried to rob a liquor store, only it went wrong, and he was shot. Medilia ― the boy's mother ― dropped him off at the orphanage that night, crawled into the nearest gutter, and overdosed. It's tragic, really."

The room had gone quiet. Zelda saw that Link had curled his fingers into fists.

"That's not true" Link said, carefully articulating each word with a voice that was icy calm.

"Oh, but it is. I've got the report to prove it." Ghirahim looked at Link once, a long, arch glance that took in everything about him and clearly found it lacking. "You're nothing. Less than nothing. You're scum. What would ever make you worthy of a future queen? But I…. I am a Duke. A leader in my own right." Ghirahim turned to Zelda, and now he went down on one knee. "You deserve an equal. I am that. You deserve wealth and prestige. I can give you that. Marry me, highness."

Zelda gaped. Could it be? Could Ghirahim, in his narcissistic delusions, actually have become convinced that he was rescuing her from Link? Was this his moment of triumph, his grand victory?

The utter, absolute nerve. She opened her mouth to tell him off, but a commotion at the doors of the ballroom interrupted her.

"Ah," said Ghirahim, dark eyes glittering with satisfaction as security guards streamed in. "And that will be the police. Bye bye, orphan boy. Enjoy prison."

Link looked unnervingly calm. His only sign of unrest was the rage simmering in his eyes. The guards streamed towards them, and Zelda's mind went blank.

"I can't believe you," she said to Ghirahim. "You orchestrated all this? For what? To prove a point?"

"To prove that you're better than him," said Ghirahim. He grabbed her hand and pulled it towards him, nearly toppling her. "You don't need him. You need me. What'll it be, princess? Say yes."

There could only be one answer. But before she could give it, guards encircled them ― her and Ghirahim, putting a human barrier between Zelda and Link.

"Release the princess," the big red-headed guard from earlier that day said to Ghirahim. For a moment, it looked like the duke would refuse… but he was surrounded by guards. With a bloodless smile, he released the princess' fingers.

"She's in no danger from me," Ghirahim said. "It's good you're here. The thief is there." He nodded at Link, barely visible beyond the guards encircling him and Zelda.

The big guard didn't respond. Instead, he stepped forward, his whole body tense.

"Highness, please step back," he said. He gestured at the Duke. "This man is under arrest."

Zelda slowly complied, mind whirling. What was happening? Ghirahim had just spun a wild tale - surely it couldn't be true ― and then he'd accused Link of….

… of….

… oh.

Link's words from earlier that evening floated back to her, lost in all the chaos of the last few minutes.

'Miss Purah found your brooch. An unsavory person tried to use it to cause mischief. So we decided to put it back to work.'

Link had done this. Ghirahim had framed Link, and Link had framed him right back.

Zelda didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry.

"What is this?" Ghirahim's careful elegance began to crack as guards surrounded him. "I've done no such thing. I've been framed."

"We have testimony here from a servant who observed Lady Cia retrieving the brooch from your pocket when she greeted you several days ago," said the guard to Zelda. "She and Duke Ghirahim have been repeatedly observed in close quarters, and we believe they conspired to sell your brooch." Outside the circle, Zelda could see that two more guards had already taken Lady Cia into custody. She was thrashing and snarling, and an errant thought flickered through Zelda's head that if Lady Cia thrashed much harder, her ridiculous costume would fall off.

It was all too much. All of the revelations of the past quarter-hour crashed onto Zelda's shoulders like heavy weight. She bit back a hysterical giggle. Now was not the time for laughter.

"Duke Ghirahim of Faron," said the guard, "You need to come with me now. You're being placed under arrest for accessory to felony theft."

"This is wrong," said the duke, nevertheless rising to his feet with cool dignity. He spoke to Zelda, not to the guards. "Clearly a mistake has been made, and all will be resolved by dawn. I'll await my answer, highness."

"You can have it now," Zelda said. "It's no, and nothing you can do will change that. I will never marry you, Lord Ghirahim."

Rage came into his eyes, dark and flashing. He snarled, and for a moment he looked like he would lunge at her― then collected himself. He turned on a heel with a 'hmph' and marched out in Lady Cia's struggling wake, trailed by guards.

The big guard turned to Zelda, an apology in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry about the unpleasant interruption, highness," he said. "But as soon as we found the brooch, we knew we needed to return it to you immediately. Here." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a parcel wrapped in dark fabric. With trembling fingers, Zelda unwrapped it.

There, cradled in the big man's palms, was her precious brooch.

She lifted it and turned it over. An inscription glinted on the back, just as she'd remembered it:

'Beloved Zelda, I wish you a throne of nothing but joy, HRH R.B.H.'

She took the brooch and fastened it to the empty spot in her dress, willing away the tears that were gathering in her eyes.

"Thank you, sir," she said, looking up at the guard. "You've done me a great service this evening."

"Aw." The big man turned red and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just doing my job, ma'am."

Zelda sniffed and smiled. The guard, seeing her struggle, turned to the assembled spectators.

"Go back to your party now, folks," he said, waving his two massive hands. "Show's over."

People began to murmur, then mull around. Zelda turned, looking for an anchor in the chaos.

"Highness, are you well?"

It was Misko, standing just behind her, looking worried.

"I'm…" Zelda looked around. No blue Champion's tunic. No Hylian hood. Link was gone, vanished like an apparition. "I'm… no, I am not. Misko, can you get me out of here? I don't wish to speak to anyone. I need a moment to collect myself."

Misko nodded once and held out his arm to Zelda. Blessed Misko, always taking orders and never complaining ― he was going to be so disappointed that Link was putting him out of a job.

If Link still wanted to be with her, that was. How many more blows would he be willing to take in her company?

Misko guided Zelda out of the ballroom, effortlessly deflecting each person who came up to try to speak to Zelda, to gossip about what had just happened. In the hallway, Zelda detached herself from Misko's arm.

"Thank you," she told him. "I'll be right back. I just need a moment."

Concern showed on Misko's handsome face.

"Can I escort you?" He asked. "After everything that just happened…"

"No," Zelda said with more force than she'd intended. She gentled her tone. "No. Stay here and keep people from following me. I'll be right back."

Misko clearly didn't understand, but nevertheless nodded once. Zelda picked up her skirts and turned, fleeing down the hallway. She took a door into the servants' halls and ran.

"Link," she said to the first wide-eyed worker she passed. "Where is he?"

"I… saw him pass this way just a few minutes ago," said the servant. "L-looked like he was heading to Purah's workshop."

"Where is that?" Zelda asked.

"In the b-b-basement, majesty," stuttered the poor man.

"Thank you," Zelda said, and ran.

She should have asked for directions: she got lost no small number of times, and by the time she found the doors to the workshop, she was near tears with frustration. She threw the doors open and tumbled in.

"Link," she called. "Are you here?"

"You just missed him."

The tiniest woman Zelda had ever seen stood before her, grave-eyed behind her large red spectacles. This must be the infamous seamstress Purah.

"Where did he go?" Zelda knew she sounded desperate but she didn't care.

"He left," said the little Sheikah. "Didn't even bother to change. Just grabbed his car keys and left. He's probably in the car right now, even though I told him it's not safe…"

"Not safe?" Zelda's heart, already cracking, gave an anxious twist.

"We're under a blizzard watch," said the little woman. "It's not a good idea to drive. I told him not to go, but he wouldn't listen…"

"I need to catch him," Zelda said. "I need to get him."

The woman shook her head.

"It's not safe," she repeated. "Especially not for you. I'm sorry, Highness. You need to stay here."

"B-but… But Link…"

The woman sighed. Though she was tiny and her face was unlined, she suddenly looked very old and very tired.

"Highness," she said, though the title didn't sound formal on her lips, "Can you tell me what happened?"

"It was Lord Ghirahim ― he burst in and told this horrible story about Link's parents, and… oh, it can't be true, it just can't be, and even if it is I don't care, but now Link is gone…"

The door slammed open again, and Midna and Paya tumbled through.

"Zelda, there you are," said Paya with relief. "I was worried."

"Paya," Zelda said, turning to her dear friend, "it's Link ― there's a blizzard, and he's gotten in his car― he's upset, it's not safe―"

"Link has driven these mountains in the snow many, many times," Paya said gently. Her hands came up to Zelda's, and Zelda realized she'd tangled her fingers in the front of Paya's traditional wrap. "He's going to be alright. I'm more worried about you right now."

"But Link―"

"We'll send someone to Kakariko to check on him in the morning," said Paya. "He's going to be fine. He's strong, Zelda. And so are you."

Zelda nodded. She felt hollow. Empty.

A tear slid down her face. Then another.

"Drat that wretched duke," Midna muttered. "Come on, Zelda. Let's get you cleaned up and in bed. Would you like cocoa? Fruit cake?"

Zelda sniffled. Both sounded marvelous.

Then she remembered the weight of her father's brooch at her breast, and remembered her costume-that-wasn't-a-costume. She straightened. The little seamstress offered Zelda a handkerchief, and she used it to dab at her eyes, careful not to smear her makeup.

"No," Zelda said. "I'm going back to the ball."

"Zel…" Midna started. Zelda shook her head.

"I'm going to be a queen," she said. "I have to start acting like it. And… and anyway, what Ghirahim said… I can't let it bother me. I can't react." As far as she was concerned, it was irrelevant. "So I have to go back."

"Alright," Midna said after a moment. She and Paya wore twin expressions of worry. "If you're sure."

"I am," Zelda said. She straightened, then paused and turned back to the little seamstress.

"Thank you for the handkerchief," she said, returning the fabric to the tiny woman. "And for dressing Link. He has looked wonderful these past three nights."

"Oh, believe me," said the little woman, "it was no chore at all."

Zelda found herself smiling a little. "I'm sure it wasn't," she agreed. "Thank you anyway."

Then, with a fortifying breath, she turned her face back to the door.

"Let's go back," she said, trying for more calm and courage than she felt. "We've been away from the party for long enough."

"Alright," Paya said. She took one of Zelda's arms and Midna took the other. Together, they walked back through the servant's halls. As they walked in silence, Zelda promised herself that no matter how heavy her heart felt, she'd keep her chin high and her steps light, and she'd wear her father's brooch with pride.

And then, once this horrible ball was over, once the dawn came, she would find Link and they would sort things out.

Wait for me, Link, she thought. Stay safe. I'm coming for you.

CM: Just realized this entire chapter was mostly your doing, you spectacular tropester, you.

Lyx: I aim to please.

CM: I think it's time for Link to mope.

Lyx: You love it when Link mopes.

CM: Gosh, but I do.

Lyx: Have at 'im.