Three Years Later
I pull my gloves on with a sigh. Impa looks at me, concern clearly visible on her face. She looks as if she's on the edge of saying something that crosses the line of a normal maid's boundaries with the person they serve.
I don't know why she still hesitates. This woman has always been closer to me than my actual mother.
It's funny, a lot of the time I think of Impa as the only parental figure I have. I feel like an orphan. My mother's death marked the day I lost both of my parents. It's perfectly fine, though. I have Impa and Jaspar, and I have my studies and reading to pass the time. I need nothing else.
Nothing else.
Impa seems to finally decide to toe over the line. "I...I can tell him you're unwell."
I look at her, smiling weakly. I shake my head. I have a duty to my kingdom to do this. I was born into this life, so I am going to live it.
Impa closes her eyes and inhales deeply. "You'll be wonderful, love. Good luck," she says, opening her eyes again.
I take her hand and squeeze it. She smiles, then breaks away to open the door for me. I step through and wait for her to follow me. She doesn't. Oh. That's right. I really am on my own.
Once I leave my room, I pull my shoulders back and tilt my head up ever so slightly. I clasp my hands together in front of me to hide their shaking. No suitor will want to marry Hyrule's princess if she's riddled with anxiety, I think to myself bitterly.
This is my seventh meeting with a potential suitor. Each time I go, it's sooner after the last meeting than before. The sixth was only a week ago. It's so frustrating. I could use this time to study or take a trip somewhere in Hyrule. What good is a Queen to her country if she doesn't know anything?
I reach the entrance to the same grand inner garden where all of the other meetings were held. I don't like this garden. Everything in it is so uniform and fake looking. My mind drifts to the overgrown yellow garden, and immediately my mood lifts a bit. As soon as this is over, I'm going there to decompress.
An attendant opens the doors for me, and I step outside. I try to hold myself a little taller. Part of me wishes to intimidate the man sitting there with my regality.
I look at my current suitor. He has perfect brown hair, and eyes and a smile that would make any girl melt. I resist the urge to raise my eyebrows, unimpressed by his looks. He stands as I enter the garden. The bright sun and smell of the fragrant flowers everywhere make me feel dizzy. I give the man in front of me a sweet smile.
He clears his throat and holds his hand out. "Lord Quentalin, your highness. Honored to be in your presence," he says grandly. I place my hand in his, and he places a kiss on the back of my glove. I give what I hope is a bashful smile.
Meeting with suitors is supposed to be a less formal process. My books about Hyrule say that this is in the hopes that the heir to the throne finds a spouse more organically so they run the kingdom smoothly together. Hyrule has a bloody history, but it's things like this that make me love my kingdom regardless.
It's that same love that also demands I be picky about the husband I choose. Looks and charm cannot be allowed to cloud my judgment. However, as hypocritical as this might sound, I have to admire this Lord so-and-so. Enticing your potential spouse into slipping up is all a part of the game. I'll be trying to see through him the same way he's trying to see through me during our whole meeting today.
We make our way to a small, elegant table. The suitor pulls the chair out for me. I thank him, making eye contact. Averting your gaze is the first obvious sign of weakness. He sits down across from me. As I watch him, he seems to nearly cross his legs. He's bored. I feel a bit of panic rise within me. It's barely five minutes in and I've barely done a thing except say hello and thank you.
"Why are you here?" I ask smoothly. I'm trying to catch him off guard.
He gives me another dazzling smile and a dignified chuckle. He's clearly not fazed. "I'm not sure I understand the question, your highness."
I close my eyes and sigh, showing pity and amusement in all of my body language. "I'll put it in simpler terms for you. What makes you think that you have any chance of standing out among dozens of suitors?" I ask.
He remains quiet for a long time. Rubbing the stubble on his chin, he studies me. I can't read his expression. He must be at least five years older than me; he seems a few years younger than Jaspar. I thought his eyes were a cold blue, but I see now that they're closer to gray. I can't find an obvious flaw. Everything from his defined nose to his chiseled jaw to his squarely set shoulders seems utterly perfect. It frustrates me.
His gaze finds its way to mine, and we lock eyes. "I suppose I came here...for the challenge," he answers finally. "Any man capable of presenting himself to a princess would be out of his mind not to. Especially when the princess in question is one as lovely as Hyrule's own Princess Zelda."
He's moved to flattery. This could mean many, many things. I'm losing my control over the situation. "A man such as yourself has no need to glean his worth from a princess. Why go for the top when you could have any woman you truly wanted with barely any effort at all?" I counter. My voice still seems steady, to my relief.
He leans across the small table, only inches away from me now. I don't have to listen to know my heart is pounding.
He lowers his voice to a deep whisper. "What if the woman I truly want," he breathes. I can feel his exhale on my face now. He moves even closer, and my eyes flutter shut. "Is you?"
I'm petrified. I've stopped breathing. I hear him laugh quietly. Triumphantly. He knows he's won. He moves away again, and I open my eyes.
He's resting his head on his palm, all traces of formality gone. My mouth is hanging open a bit. I'm too shocked to close it. I stare at him, unable to hide my horror. He smirks. "Well, dear Zelda, I think this meeting went well. I look forward to the next one, and many more after that," he says, standing up.
He leaves without even glancing back at me. I sit for another five minutes alone in the silence before I leave as well.
"Oh, Impa, you should have seen him. It was awful. He broke every unspoken rule!" I cry, practically ripping my gloves off. I throw the one he kissed across my room in disgust. A shiver runs down my spine as I remember his hot breath on my face.
Impa looked concerned as usual, but she seems angry now as well. "That bastard!"
I feel like I'm about to cry, but for what feels like the first time ever, no tears come. The only other thing I feel is the shame burning in my cheeks.
I didn't go to the yellow garden after my meeting. I came straight to Impa and fell into her arms. After recounting the whole meeting to her, she suggested I change clothes to feel better.
I bury my face into my now bare hands. "I never want to see those gloves again," I say between my fingers.
"As you shouldn't," Impa says curtly. She grabs them and holds them away from her as if they're infected by some deadly disease and marches them out of the room.
While she's gone, I take off my dress and pull the small hairpiece out of my hair. I fling that across the room too. I feel humiliated. I crawl into my bed wearing only my underclothes.
For some reason, my mind drifts to Link. I hardly think of him anymore, but when I do it hurts like a person is sitting on my chest. In my head, I hear things like how Link wouldn't have done anything like that, wondering where he is now, wondering if he thinks of me, fantasizing about what he looks now. I know it's been three years, but in my head, he's still my scrawny, 15-year-old Link. Every time I try to picture what he must look like now, I just can't.
Impa finally returns. I pull my covers over my head. "Lord Quentalin, was it? I tried to tell someone to make sure he didn't come back, but no one ever takes maids seriously," Impa explained, dismayed. "They all told me I was being hysterical! Excuse my language, but I was this close to clobbering the whole damn lot of them!"
I can't help but laugh weakly. Impa comes over to my bed and strokes my head through the covers. "There, there, darling. Everything will be tea and roses now, I promise."
I reluctantly leave my bed to get dressed again. I put on one of my most casual dresses. Offhandedly, I imagine what it would be like to wear pants. I think I'd feel a lot freer.
Trying not to think about Lord Quentalin anymore, I head down to the library. Jaspar always seems to know how to make me feel better.
The night Link left, I went back to the library instead of my room. Jaspar was there, of course. I found myself telling him everything─all about the forest, Link, how trapped I felt, everything. He hadn't seemed surprised, and he gave me some of the best advice I'd ever received. I kept going back to the library regularly after that. Jaspar and Impa are the only two people in my life I feel truly safe around.
I creak open the library doors. "Princess?" a voice calls.
"It's me!" I shout back. "Where are you?"
"Never you mind. I'll come to you!" He rarely tells me where he is. I think he secretly enjoys being hidden in the maze of books.
A minute or so later, his head pops out from the shelf in front of me. "Zelda! A magnificent surprise guest," he coos. He only addresses me formally when there could be other people within earshot that could think he was being disrespectful.
"I've had such a day, Jaspar. I wish I could go back and have it never happen in the first place," I huff.
He smiles, and we walk toward his desk to the two chairs where we always sit. "Darling, we all have days like that. What made this one so abhorrent?"
"I met with another suitor, and he was awful," I begin. I explain everything again, and he listens with his head resting on his intertwined fingers.
"Revolting," is all Jaspar says when finish. His usual air of brio and charisma is gone.
"It's fine though, really. I'm fine," I say. I had expected him to brush it off and give insightful yet light-hearted advice. Not this.
We're both suddenly distracted when the library doors open. A young man walks in carrying a tray of food. From the looks of him, he works a low-level job in the kitchens. My food is always brought by an attendant, but I suppose Jaspar isn't seen as important enough for that.
I look over at Jaspar, but he's completely focused on the man who just entered the room. His eyes are sparkling. I look at him too, curious if Jaspar noticed something I didn't about him.
There doesn't seem to be anything remarkable about him. He has a roundish face and long, black hair tied into a low hanging ponytail. A piece of his hair has come out of the ribbon tying it back and hangs in his face. Thick, dark eyebrows hang above sad brown eyes. Looking more closely, I notice several freckles spread across his cheeks and nose.
But Jaspar is looking at him like he's the world.
The kitchen hand comes over to the desk and sets down the tray. I watch as his and Jaspar's eyes meet. He gives a small smile, and Jasper returns it awkwardly. The kitchen hand turns and leaves the library without a word.
Jaspar's face is flushed. We sit in silence before I grin. "So?"
He looks at me. "Yes?"
"Oh, stop!" I crow. "Who is that? You clearly like him."
"It's nothing."
"Liar."
I notice that he looks as if he's about to cry. Never once in three years has Jaspar looked like he was about to cry. He looks at me intensely. "You don't think it's wrong? Disgusting? Unnatural? Vile?"
"Of course not!" I surprised. I thought after all this time Jaspar would trust me not to flee at the first sign of anything unconventional.
He still looks doubtful. I grab his hand. "Look, all of those people who say that being that way goes against Nayru's 'law and order' or whatever, but they gloss over the fact that Farore created life to love and be loved."
He stays silent for a while. Finally, he says, "Well, Miss Zelda, I must say that you certainly seem certain. Thank you."
"Of course! Now, who is he?" I ask, leaning closer. Jaspar pushes me away playfully, and I laugh.
"He is Hemli. He comes up every day, breakfast, lunch, and dinner," he says, looking dreamy again.
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. "Is...that all?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever even spoken to him?"
"No," he answers, frowning. "Is that necessary?"
I rub my temples and sigh. "My marriage is basically arranged for me, and even I talk to him first."
Jaspar crosses his arms. "I've talked to maids about him," he pouts.
"That isn't the same," I say. "You need to talk directly to him."
He ignores me. "The wonderfully helpful maids have told me everything they know about him. You know what they told me? They said he's never really shown an interest in any of the maids like the other kitchen hands."
I've never heard him like this. Jaspar, my eloquent and reasonable Jaspar, has suddenly become as irrational as a lovesick book character. For once, I'm glad that I'll never be allowed to truly fall in love. The idea of being this, well, stupid makes me want to vomit.
I stand up. "I'm leaving because you clearly don't have a single sensible thought in your head right now. I'll be back before breakfast tomorrow. That way, I can make sure you talk to him.
"If you don't," I add mischievously, "I'll dog-ear the last book you gave me."
He grasps his chest in mock horror. "You wouldn't!"
"Try me." I waggle a finger at him before stalking out of the library.
I head back to my room feeling considerably lighter, but when I return Impa's face brings me crashing down again. Her brow is furrowed, and she's looking at me like she knows the worst.
"Tomorrow, love. It's already been scheduled," she says.
"What has?" What could have possibly happened in the short time I was gone?
"Lord Quentalin. He charmed and finagled his way into another meeting with you tomorrow at noon."
I close my eyes. The only thing that surprises me is that I'm not surprised. I only feel disgust and dread.
Impa continues. "From what I've been told, your father has met him too. I hear he's the favorite for your hand in marriage."
So my father has time to speculate about my potential spouses, but not enough to say a word to me for three years. I feel hopeless.
It's dark now, so I change and get ready for bed. I crawl under the covers and dissolve into the only foolproof, temporary solace I know: sleep.
(New readers can ignore this~) I'm going to be honest, I'm really disappointed in the earlier chapters of this story. The writing really isn't as strong, but more importantly, I made some pretty dumb mistakes because there was so much time between posting each chapter. A while ago I reread it, and I saw that I said that Zelda's mother was already dead twice before she had actually died, and just recently I noticed that I had mentioned the library and librarian before the last chapter. I just….argh. I'm really sorry guys. I fixed the discrepancies, and I may rewrite the early chapters at some point, but that isn't terribly high on my to-do list. For now, I just fixed the parts that contradicted each other, corrected some grammatical issues, and combined chapters 1 and 2 because they were both pretty short. The Queen is still dead, and Jaspar is still the librarian. Again, I'm really sorry. :)
Whenever I post an update, your support blows me away every time. It means the world to me every time I read a new review or see that I have a new follower. What I'm trying to say is...thank you so much, guys. :D
