Kinda early this week but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's a somewhat more sedate offering this time around, with a new POV and everything. I hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing this one.
Cheers, Freckles
It takes an hour and a half and both her lady's maids to dress her in her full state regalia. Helen and Domitila, who have been her lady's maids since the beginning of the Hylian restoration, call it her onion dress because as simple as it looks it has more layers than any outfit really ought to. Zelda's least favourite part of the whole ordeal is fighting her way into the quite severe underwear she has to wear under it. All three of them frequently ask the Goddesses to shower misfortune on whoever decided that women can only have visible lumps in places men find aesthetically pleasing. She stands as still as she can while Helen laces and straps her in.
The sounds of one of the kitchen staff pumping water up from the well in the courtyard outside drift through the open window. She ought, as she often gets told by the palace housekeeper, to move into the monarch's chambers that stretch almost the full length of the second floor of the palace. She won't though, as daft as it sounds, to Zelda those are still her parent's rooms so instead she stays here in the room she's had since she was a girl.
It's familiar. It's safe. It doesn't feel so yawningly empty when she's in it on her own. She likes that it's above the kitchen courtyard and gardens because she gotten pretty good at working out what's for breakfast just from the smells that waft up in the morning. She likes that her mother let her have two huge floor to ceiling bookcases fitted and fill them with whichever books she wanted. Most of them have perilously cracked spines now and fall open, unprompted, to favourite chapters and paragraphs. There are sketches and messy, quick watercolour paintings hung on the walls. Some of the gardens around the palace and places further away. Some of the guards and servants and gardeners. There's one of her, and her parents, one of Link and one of Sheik. Each and every picture has a hasty Sheikah eye with an S beneath scribbled in the corner.
Domitila helps her step into the underskirt of her dress, patting it until it lies smooth. The actual dress is made from pale pink duchess satin and has a run of tiny, fabric covered buttons down the back that take an age to fasten. Two sets of nimble fingers set to work doing the buttons up, Helen starting from the top and Domitila at the bottom. They race, seeing who can get to the middle quickest, Helen eventually huffing in triumph. Domitila sighs and carries on doggedly, taking her time a little bit more now she's already lost. At least the pink silk chemise that went over the top required less effort.
They lift her ornate gold pauldrons over her head and fasten the yolk across her chest. The whole thing looks heavier than it really is. It was designed for show after all and Zelda is ninety percent sure it would be absolutely useless in a fight. Still, what weight it does have took some getting used to but it's been a while since it left her shoulders aching and sore. She sits through having her hair brushed and pinned and set so that her circlet looks like it's staying put all of its own accord. Her belt, gloves, shoes and the pennant embroidered with the royal crest go on last. An hour and a half to go from bed clothes, toast and jam and a well-thumbed book to a queen standing in a child's old room.
She sighs and smiles at Helen and Domitila as they leave. She perches on a chair, wishing her outfits was more conducive to curling up on the bed, and reaches for a book. It's not even the same book she was reading before but it doesn't really matter. All of the ones in this room have been read so many times that she can pick any of them up, open it to any page and know exactly where in the story she is. She quite like to read them to someone the way her mother used to read to her, with different voices for every character and a quiver in her voice at the sad bits.
Willem, her chief of staff, taps on the door before letting himself in.
`My lady, the receiving room is ready if you'd like to make your way across.'
She sets down the book, not bothering to mark the page, `Thank you Willem, let's be away then.'
He holds out an arm for her. She takes it out of politeness more than anything else. When they were both a lot younger Willem used to give her piggy-back rides around the knot gardens or they'd race each other through the maze. He's got children of his own to run around after now.
It takes a while to get to the receiving room from her bedroom tucked away in a much quieter part of the castle. It's one of the largest rooms in the castle, ninety meters long and half that distance wide. The ceiling bows upwards and its convex arc is covered by a moulded fresco of hunting scenes. A massive circular Hylian crest sits in the dead centre, painted and gilded to make it stand out from the pale alabaster of the rest of the ceiling. Every inch of available wall space between the roof and the floor is covered by tapestries. Some are pastoral scenes, others are battles. Zelda's favourite one has always been the one of the Zora's domain, its cold blues and greens a welcome change from the earthy tones of the others.
Their shoes click over the chequered marble floors. They pass by a tasteful selection of suits of armour and plush upholstered chairs. There's a dais at the far end of the room decked out in red velvet with gold trim. Two thrones sit on it flanked by bronze lynel statues. Zelda sits in the right-hand throne, the monarch's throne. It's larger than the other and decorated with mother of pearl and gold leaf. Willem stands just behind her to her right. The left-hand throne remains doggedly empty, despite plenty of people's attempts to fill it.
Both halves of the huge oak doors open, with just one side being double the width of an ordinary door making full use of the entryway is something reserved only for visiting foreign monarchs. The entourage precedes the anticipated guests, a handful of men and women in livery filing in and lining up on either side of the doorway. His majesty King Decebal, the mountain to the north, is a surprisingly soft looking man given his moniker. His shoulders are wide but slope roundly downwards. His limbs are thick but carry a layer of fat that blurs any and all muscle definition. It's likely that as a younger man he had a strong, square jaw line but it's starting to get hidden beneath a second chin.
He walks into the room, hand in hand with his queen Sorina. She and Zelda smile at one another across the room. She has a cat like face, with wide cheek bones and big, pale eyes. She's a little taller than her husband but just as gently rounded. Falteringly someone steps into the room behind them. Zelda cranes her neck a little to catch a glimpse of them over Decebal and Sorina. It's a boy. A man, she mentally corrects herself because she looks to be about her age, perhaps a bit younger. He has shoulders as wide as Decebal but much less sloping and a face like Sorina's. Willem leans forward to whisper to her,
`I believe that's King Decebal and Queen Sorina's son Matei. . . I was. . . unaware he would be in attendance as well.'
`Ah, I see . . .' she tightens her jaw a little, eyes flicking briefly to the empty seat beside her, `well, then adjust the lunch preparations according please Willem.'
`Yes my lady.' He slips away, disappearing through a door hidden behind the drapes at the back of the dais.
She stands up as the three of them draw closes, hands held open in a gesture of welcome.
`King Decebal, Queen Sorina, such a pleasure to see you again.'
`Likewise Queen Zelda, likewise.' Decebal's smile is warm and genuine but close up it's not hard to see how tired his eyes look. `I don't believe we have ever introduced to our son,' he uses a big-palmed hand to steer Matei in front of Zelda, `this is Matei.'
He bows, possibly slightly too low for one royal meeting another, but doesn't say anything. There's a faint red tinge to the tips of his ears.
`I am very pleased to make your acquaintance Prince Matei,' She inclines her head to him before stepping down from the dais.
Sorina holds out her hands to take Zelda's, clasping them and leaning in to kiss her on each cheek. Her smiles look just as tired as her husband's. A gentle cough tells Zelda that Willem has come back and wants her attention. She turns to where he's standing, hands folded neatly behind his back.
`Lunch is ready your majesties, if you would like to follow me.'
Willem leads them out of the cavernous room, and down a short, airy hallway to the equally vast state dining room. Zelda always finds it slightly ridiculous that she has to meet visiting dignitaries in the receiving room and not directly in the dining room when they only ever spend all of about five minutes there. As pointless as it may be it is what it is and it's always been something that has languished at the bottom of her list of changes to affect.
The aggressively long table looks sad when it's only set for four people. Lit candles in delicate Goron crafted sliver-plated candelabras line the entire length of the table top regardless of the fact that only six feet of it will be in use. They all automatically find their places at the table. Zelda at the head, Decebal and Sorina to her right and Matei, facing them, to her left. Butlers pull out their chairs in eerie unison and they all sit. Sorina lays a hand on top of Zelda's leaning in a little to make conversation easier,
`Thank you, Zelda, for receiving us at such short notice.'
`It's a pleasure Sorina, no thanks is needed.'
The same robotically synchronous butlers fill everyone's wine glasses.
`I wish we were here under more. . . auspicious circumstances.' Sorina manages a tight-lipped smile before taking a sip of wine.
Decebal lays a hand on his wife's shoulder, `Things are what they are I suppose, it could be worse.'
Zelda nods, `I agree, I doubt any of us expected this to be easy.'
Food arrives, whisked in on platters and trays and in terrines. When she and Sheik were children they played at doing silver service once, begging the butlers to show them how and then dropping their precious morsels of pretend food everywhere and knocking the glasses over. She still enjoys watching them move so precisely, never getting a single stain on their white silk gloves.
`I assume you've had the most recent reports from the front?' Decebal lays down his knife and fork for a moment, looking over at Zelda.
She pauses for a moment, cutlery held awkwardly in mid-air, `yes, they are. . . less than desirable. Have they. . . has anything more been heard of the missing companies?' She clenches her jaw, teeth almost creaking. He's. . . he's fine, he's strong, he'll be alright. They both will be.
Sorina grimaces, `I'm afraid not, I'm. . . I'm sorry.'
`The only things we can do are pray and have faith that they are well. It will take more than opportunistic explosions to break Hyrule's army.'
`Here here,' Decebal raises a glass in Zelda's general direction, `the men and women of you army are tough souls, we owe them so much.'
Sorina nods as Zelda bows her head, gracefully accepting the compliment to her people. As lunch progresses they starting discussing the war in more and more detail. The initial, and worryingly rapid advance of the Empire into Decebal's lands seems to be abating now the Hylians have joined the front. Still, a swathe of land between the border and front lies stuck, beleaguered behind enemy lines. There's been a lot of talk of making a push to reclaim as much of it as they can but since the ambush on the marching line there have been worries that there isn't enough man power for it.
Dessert comes and goes as they talk about projected casualty numbers. The grim topic oddly juxtaposed against the sweet, light as air food. None of them are happy with the how the numbers are looking. The worst is how great the amount of civilian casualties appears set to become. Zelda knows how badly it hurts to watch good, hard-working, uninvolved people be ravaged by cruelties they don't deserve. It might have been eight years since Ganon was defeated but the marks he left can still be found if you know where to look.
As the postprandial brandies and teas are being carried in Matei says the first thing he's said all evening,
`I must apologise Queen Zelda, I fear I am not feeling as well as I might, I think it might be best if I retire early.' There's a blush settled across his high cheek bones that looks more like embarrassment than anything else.
`Ah, please do Prince Matei I don't wish you to be in any discomfort, if there's in anything you need please ask.'
He nods, again preferring to respond non-verbally, and stands to leave. Willem appears to show him the way to his rooms. Decebal sighs at his son's retreating figure.
`He struggles with things like this.' He picks up the tea Zelda just poured for him, `he does his best but he's just never got the hang of it.'
Zelda makes a sympathetic face, `it's not uncommon to be shy.'
`I know, it's just. . . I couldn't convince you to marry him could I?'
Sorina snorts, `I think Zelda is in need of a husband about as much as I'm in need of a sunburn.'
Zelda smiles down into her tea cup, her eyes crinkling at the corners. It feels nice, to not have to make excuses for remaining on her own.
`I know, I know,' Decebal rubs his eyes, `if ever, for whatever reason, there comes a time when you do decide to take a husband, please, at least think of him, he needs someone to look after him.'
`I will keep him in mind Decebal, I promise.' She means it, she knows it's likely at some point she'll have to produce an heir and if Matei is anything like his parents there are far worse options.
Once all the tea has been drunk Willem comes to shows Decebal and Sorina the way to their rooms. Zelda stays in the dining room a little longer, waving to the butlers to let them know it's alright to start clearing up around her. Eventually she gets up to leave as well, taking a slightly circuitous route through one of the courtyards back to her room. There's a small fountain in the centre with a small tree covered in long tendrils of yellow flowers next to it. Matei is perched on the rim of the fountain. He stands up awkwardly when he notices her, moving his hands around as if he doesn't know what to do with them.
`Good afternoon Prince Matei, I hope you are feeling better?'
`Oh, ah, yes, thank you. . . I umm. . . I lay down for a while and, ah. . . from my room. . .the tree it's. . . laburnums are lovely. . . '
She smiles at him as he turns a pronounced shade of pink, `is that what it is? A laburnum?'
`Oh, yes, sometimes they're called golden chain though. It's a member of the pea family.' He smiles at the tree and then at Zelda before he seems to realise what he's doing and starts blushing again.
`I shall have to remember that, thank you.'
There's a long pause, the trickling of the fountain counting the seconds it drags on for. She's about to break it when Matei squares his shoulders and does it instead,
`You have very nice gardens here, I was admiring them on the way in, perhaps. . . perhaps we could. . . take a walk . . . around them. . .' the momentum he'd gathered dies out the longer his sentence goes on.
It's a little painful watching him try but very heartening, `I would like that very much, although I'm afraid I don't know much about plants.'
`It's alright, I do, see,' he points at something to his left, `bear's breeches.'
`I beg your pardon?'
The colour rushes out of his face, `Oh, no! Not, not actual breeches or bears or, or. . . the plant, acanthus mollis, it gets. . . it gets called bear's breeches.'
She starts laughing, she can't help herself. Matei looks mortified, he collapses down onto the rim of the fountain again, his face in his hands, saying something to himself in his native language too quietly for Zelda to be able to catch. She sits down beside him,
`You know, I don't think a bear would be able to fit a toe in those flowers, let alone wear them as breeches.'
He looks up at her from between his fingers. She smiles, broad and kind and friendly, and finally, finally he smiles backs without turning into a beetroot. She carries on,
`I really would like to walk through the gardens with you, I enjoy learning new things.'
He lets his hands drop away from his face, `then I will endeavour not to disappoint. . . thank you, for being so kind.'
`Thank you for telling me about the laburnum,' Zelda stands up, brushing off her dress gently, `good day Matei, I've enjoyed talking with you.'
`Good day Zelda, I've enjoyed it too.'
My plant identification is only as accurate as what I googled, apologies if it's all complete rubbish.