This chapter was constantly glitching on me at school. If I didn't save it to FF a certain way, it reduced itself to 100 words from two random POVs... In fact the site spazzed on me so badly at one point that I had to re-save this chapter Paragraph BY SINGLE SOLITARY PARAGRAPH to make sure I could take it all home and finish it. BE GRATEFUL.

Longest chapter! 7000+ Words! Hans Zimmer! Still a God!

Enjoy.

Matters of the State

Chapter 21

I don't believe I've ever been more utterly flabbergasted in all my life. My tongue won't move and my ears now burn with indignation as I can't very well find a single word to come to my aid. And by the god's faithful wraths she's just smiling at me!

"I'm glad to see that you agree with me, Lord Salvin, but I must be going now, I am to help her Majesty with the arrangements." I can only manage a dumb nod as the sultry blue eyes of the woman who's begun taking up far too much of my time and too many of my thoughts look away from me in a swirl of auburn ringlets. For the life of me, I can hardly utter a word before her hand is on the brass knob of my antechamber door, and I finally gurgle out the very first thing which comes to me.

"You have beautiful eyes." Oh, by Farore's Divine Gra—!!

"Why thank you, Lord Salvin… Shall I expect you in my salon tomorrow..? Shortly before the Mid-day meal?" I cannot and will not trust myself to speak again, attempting to banish the foolish look from my face and replace the expression with a look of calm amusement. I force my jaw to clamp itself shut; twitching my lips into as casual a smile as I dare manage, nodding at a calculatedly slow pace. My reward for appearing as a bumbling fool is a whimsical chuckle and a mystic flash of white teeth before she vanishes out the door in a swirl of deep ruby silks and a warm wealth of auburn hair. Even as the door clicks shut there's still the faint aroma of roses and wine from her perfume, but it's still sweeter than both aforementioned fragrances.

I'm mad. Completely and utterly mad.

"Malv—" Oh, right, he isn't here. After yesterday's afternoon and evening spent with my cousin in the Library I spoke with him only briefly when he delivered me my dinner and turned down my bed. I dismissed him again after I turned an unfortunate corner this morning, and even now that it is past the mid-day meal he hasn't returned. Of course, I shall forgive him for his tardiness in coming back to me; he has his duties, and judging by the Prince's pale complexion this morning at breakfast, those duties are being fulfilled.

Regardless, at this very moment I cannot stop to applaud my own genius, crossing towards the nearest window, I pause and take another deep breath of the lightly scented air. My fingers brush the clasp to open the window and allow the summer winds to blow in and carry away the distracting memory, but brush is all they do. I am utterly mad.

Admitting defeat from the window, I quickly cross my chamber towards the ornate yet very functional writing desk. I nearly grind my teeth now at the efficiency of my man, several sheets of my very best writing parchments are laid out, as is a bottle of my finest sand. A sleek, new quill with an exceptionally sharp nub, a well of thus far unopened and purely black ink, an unlit but ready candle, and the appropriate box of tinder with which to light the candle. The flame will be for the two readied seals; my own personal one for a letter home, and my family's mark for the more delicate of the two I am to write. Curse him for knowing me so blindingly well. Curse me for being an utter madman.

I am only just settling myself onto the cushioned bench before my desk when I hear it, the low, rumbling noise of stones grinding far, far below and away from me. I nearly groan at the disturbance, the noise distracting me utterly where my hand was already reaching to uncap the ink. As if the noise were a great blast of wind through my chambers the faint aroma escapes me, and I find myself drawn oddly down in mood at the loss.

All that is left to do now is save the letters now for later. I rise and make my way rather heavy-footed towards the fine basin and pitcher which rest in my actual bedchamber, ignoring the thin crimson drapes and dark posts of the seemingly wider-than-normal bed as I pour and splash the cold water onto my face. Madman that I am, I wash again as I find myself after the first time actually trying to measure the size of the bed, and noticing how empty it looks.

Hopefully now I am in some semblance of control over myself, tempted to dunk my head in entirely and hold myself there until I drown, but recalling that to not be the most appropriate of actions given the circumstances. Contented with my cleanliness, I cross towards the large wardrobe which rests on the other side of the room, normally Malvo would go about choosing my outfit for this afternoon's formalities, but I am not entirely helpless on my own.

And yes, formalities there shall be, at the very least once the runner comes to fetch me at the appropriate time. Given the amount of rumbling going on lower in the castle, and the growing volume, I can only assume that said summons shall be soon in coming. Afterall…

Darunia has arrived…

"I could not have come as far as I have without my wife."

The old man speaks so casually as I sit here with no voice with which to answer him. He seems unbothered by my imposed silence, aware of the pain even the softest of sounds causes me after so many evenings spent playing perfectly into his palm. It seems that over the course of our late evenings, he's taken to simply speaking without expect of reply, just looking to fill the silence.

"She lived here with me for many years, after she delivered unto me my son, I was pleased when she also gifted me with a daughter. Beatrice would be perhaps a few years younger than yourself, girl. They live in Hyrule now of course; my wife sits on the Queen's counsel as I did His Majesty's years ago."

Nearly fourteen days have I been kept here now, although it feels as though it should be far longer. Fourteen days of poisoned water and tantalizing meals offered to me only come nightfall and the presence of the slowly aging man before me. He loves to talk, just to hear the sound of his own voice really… I've learned so many things, but at the end of it all it feels as nothing.

"I do so look forward to the letters come next spring, although I'm sure Mathias will turn an ungodly shade of read to hear his sister courting a man on each arm…"

I have found in recent evenings that I cannot stand to look at him, the man who has ruined my home so completely and is passing the torch onto his son to continue the mayhem and chaos. Instead, my eyes from the time I am escorted in until I am taken back to my cell are fixed upon the glass casing behind him. A simple pedestal stands there, a glass box over top and covering a precious, precious artifact of untold power.

He keeps my harp in plain sight, never touching it, never moving it, ignoring its presence entirely. Watching it sit there however, night after night, I am always left with one echoing question, one which leaves me feeling hopelessly empty.

Why am I still here? My voice is lost to me after nights of drinking poisoned water- I am damned either way in that respect, either to lose my voice which is my treasure, or lose my life in the glare of the summer sun. But I am still Oracle, am I not? I do not need my voice to call the harp to me. And now of all times, when I am unbound, could I not simply freeze the moment, snatch it from that pedestal, and make away into the flow of ages?

Somehow, the answer to all of these questions… is no.

As the old man before me is passing the torch of his power onto his son, I have already committed myself to a similar act. From the moment I left Miriam's side in the past, I have resigned myself to the idea of giving up my rights as Oracle, believing I have found my niche in time.

To use the metaphor of a torchbearer, when one holds a flame, is master of it, they may do as they wish. The fires can be used to guide others, to attack or to aid, the are under the unquestioned dominance of their master so long as they are wary of the power they hold and do not become foolish with it.

But, when one passes that flame onto another, they lose that absolute control. It is that weakening of my powers which sent me into this time to begin with, the night the voice came to me across the ages. I'm surrendering my power, regardless of my current predicament and wish to use my abilities to escape. However much I want to be free to find the voice, finish passing on my duty, and return to the time I am meant to live, time is no longer my true domain any longer.

In truth, I have tried to pause time, to vanish into the ages. I tried in my cell a few nights past, when I could hear the sounds of footsteps drawing near. I did not want to look into those burning, emerald eyes again.

I don't quite know what happened to me at that point. I heard a scream that wasn't mine, and the world shook and spun around me before I was back in my cell with the light still flickering beyond my cell and the footsteps continuing, unbroken, towards me. I cannot move through nor control time on my own any longer, yet I don't have the physical strength in my tired limbs to make for the Harp before either the old man or his waiting guards outside can stop me.

So, I wait.

"You should do more than nibble at the bread, girl. You're filthy enough as things are; no need to continue to starve yourself with ignorance..."

I wait, and I don't even know why.

The largest Goron Cities often hold only a few hundred brothers, and can extend over many mountains. The smallest homes may shrink down as far as only three or four Goron sharing a single rocky summit.

Hylian cities, large and small, are much more crowded than any brother can truly imagine. Speed must be sacrificed for caution when traversing the streets of human cities, where the people are as Nayru's water. They flow about one another and weaving through each other some how avoiding collision in a way only Goron can connect with. It is dizzying to watch the crowded streets of Castle Town, so many brilliant shades of colours swirling around themselves in a great collage of noise and sound.

It seems the summer has brought many troubles to the home of Hyrule's king. So many dark eyes watched as I rolled into the expansive and overly decorated courtyard of their castle. It is a white mountain of delicate tiling and tiny corridors, like the small tunnels dug through boulders by mice and smaller creatures.

My little green brother was not there to greet me when I arrived, the ornately dressed crowd filling into the courtyard before the mighty oaken doors. My noble brother the king of the town and peoples held melancholy sadness in his eyes, his child with golden hair looked tired and as though trapped in woes of her own. And the Prince whom I have rolled across so many mountains to see was alabaster pale, his cheeks hollow and eyes sunken and dark with fatigue.

I grew bored of the formalities very quickly, but thankfully the human king knows to be brief in such matters. Brother-friendly rooms are being readied for me elsewhere in the castle now, chambers made for Gorons and are near the heart of the castle where the heat from the kitchen fires warms the stone to a pleasant homey temperature which can become to intense for humans in the summer months such as these.

"You do not appear well, young Brother." I grumble lowly, seated on the carpet-covered floor of the Prince's rooms. I made no secret of my intentions to speak with him first, avoiding such a simple and direct issue would do nothing more than delay important business, something humans seem apt to do in most cases.

"I haven't been feeling well recently…" He admits rubbing his mouth and nose with a winkled kerchief where he is seated across from me in a thick human chair with a blanket tucked around his legs. His two servants were fluttering at his sides until a few sharp words from him sent them scurrying off to some other business. I like how he behaves, not enjoying the crushing formality of his position.

"What's the chest for? You haven't let go of it…" Ah, yes, I like this Prince a good deal, feeling a rumbling laugh build in my chest, and not hesitating to let it out in force. I lift one hand from the black box in my lap and pound the floor in amusement, causing the young prince to jump in his chair slightly before settling down.

"I like you, young Brother." I say lightly, stilling my laughs but allowing a wide brotherly grin to remain on my face, watching the Prince as he tilts his flaming red head to the side. "This box is for you from Brother Mousen, the Road Builders found it in the ancient riverbed."

"Really? Why bring it all the way here then?" He asks, looking over the box momentarily where it still rests against me, but his reaction to it seems much the same as mine own. He is curious but does not see much significance behind it. "The Oracle of Ages resides in Lynna city, she would know more about ancient artifacts than I would…"

"It is addressed to you, Brother," I explain, watching his brows lift in surprise, "Or so I was told by Brother Mousen. Old Goron words were pounded into its outer case."

"Well then, could I have a look at it, please?" He holds out one hand to me as though we were old friends who may speak openly, and I am grateful for this as I would not enjoy being stuck speaking to a man who talks in circles and rhymes. I haul myself to my feet with little more than a grunt, keeping the black chest against me as I carry it towards the tiny human and place it in his grasp. In his hands, the box is nearly as long as his shoulders across, but narrow as his hands are long, and deep as they are wide. I sigh as he begins to examine it, and has the look of one who will spend many many hours doing so before doing anything at all…

"This seal…" He murmurs softly to himself, his fingers tracing softly along the front of the casing with a distant look in his eyes. Taking a deep breath however, he seems to shake himself out of whatever stupor he may have been about to tumble into.

"Thank you, Brother Darunia," He says, setting the box down in his covered lap with a nod to me, his fingers absently running along the various grooves and patterns on the box's outer surface, but his attention is on me. I nod gruffly before making to squat and drop my weight back down onto the floor, pausing, I think better of it, and straighten back out. Goron are not people of many words or social rules, but I doubt I shall remain in the Prince's presence much longer.

"I have word as well for you from your native land, young Brother." I grumble lowly, watching the Prince's tired eyes as he stifles a yawn and gives himself a few light slaps across the face as though to wake himself up. He truly does not look well, and for a moment I hesitate to deliver my message, but then I think better of that pause. The longer the words of Brother Mousen are left to stew in my mind, the more likely it is that when I share them they will have altered slightly. Already, I can no longer recall the exact phrasing used by my Brothers atop Big Brother's Plateau, and I can only hope that this will not hinder their message.

"Sorry, I just…" The young Prince closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head sharply, blinking a few times before looking back to me, "I'm awake, I assure you… You were saying something about Labrynna? I've been away for so long already, please, sit down again..?"

"I would prefer to remain standing, young Prince." I reply gruffly, earning a quick nod from the sickly human, noting the wary curiosity in his weary emerald eyes. I draw my thick shoulders back, aware of how my marks as Patriarch are smeared from days rolling through the mountains and across the plains of Hyrule. I have not slept in a good long while or eaten in longer still. I shall deliver my message and hopefully will be able to find my apartments readied.

"Young Prince, your Oracle is missing."

At first, I do not even know if he hears me or not, his expression unchanging as he simply looks at me blankly. Slowly though, he starts shaking his head, almost in the way a stupefied brother will look when told his crop has exploded during the night.

"Wait… what…?" He asks softly, his voice only just above a whisper, his lips tug up in a slight smile, as though he expects me to break into laughter once more and prove it all a jest. I merely press on with the information I was given at the summit.

"Moons ago, Brother. In the springtime, the Oracle vanished and has not returned to your people." Perhaps my hesitation was not to be dismissed, I watch as the young prince's complexion pales more dramatically than it did before, his one-handed grip on the box before him strengthening until his knuckles are white around it. I could swear I almost see him silently mouth the words, 'my people', but I cannot be sure.

"Young Brother…?"

"Please leave." I watch him closely for a moment as his almost fevered eyes dart off to the far corner of the room. I nod simply at the blunt request, watching only a moment longer as he balls up the kerchief that was resting on the small table by his chair. Somehow, I can only believe that the ill feeling in the courtyard has been a result of many stresses and tensions revolving or at least including him. I cannot help but feel sympathy for the Prince as I have added yet another worry to his roster.

Neither of us says a word more as I cross the chamber and try as gently as I may to turn the delicate human knobs. The result leaves the brassy metal bent awkwardly, but still functional as I step into the tiny halls of the castle, my head only just clearing the ceiling as I am often made to bend down through most doorways.

I nearly ram right into a small human servant as I step into the hall however, an old man with drooping eyes and cheeks, a gold-like tunic covering his torso as he glances up at me sleepily, but with a keen look about him that I dislike. I am not fond of humans who are not always what they appear. Be they hard looking and yet strangely kind, or pleasant in appearance and foul in actuality, I dislike the two-sided nature too many Hylians display. In his hands he holds a large silver platter with a dome of similar metal over top of it and I merely frown at the sight of him.

"The Prince does not want to be disturbed now." I say simply, more or less relying on my weight and size as a Goron Brother to make him leave, I receive a bobbing bow before the small man pipes up in disagreement.

"His Majesty is not well, it is best for him to eat promptly." I frown lowly at the tiny man, disliking his eyes as they are both tired as an old Brother's ought to be, yet keen as a young Goron with to much pride. In response to his argument, I do the only sensible thing.

I spread my feet and bend my knees, bracing my hands on my legs before I tip back. The stone floor is cold under me, but warms soon enough as I drop to the ground and fold my arms and legs in a solid manner, effectively barring the door.

"The Prince does not want to be disturbed." I repeat my message firmly, watching the old man as his eyes dart about to see if there is a way in which I had not effectively blocked the only portal. Clearly finding none, he taps his heels together and performs a modest human bow, another of their strange and unnecessary customs.

"If you're so intent to serve, Brother, bring me something to eat, I shall be sitting here for quite some time."

"Yes, Lord Darunia…"

All those thoughts, all these fears, all the things that I've been trying to push away. Things I've been telling myself for days now that they're nothing more than simple paranoia because of all the stress, they're all coming back now, and worst of all they're all coming true.

By the Wrath of the Gods, I can't believe how my own body's rebelling against me. I could hardly stand on my own to feet for as long as it took to welcome Darunia, my head was swimming in a cloud of nausea the entire time, and the heat only made things worse for me. I haven't felt this bad since I was dragged below the waves on my voyage here to begin with, and even then there was an exhilaration about trying something new, meeting with friendly peoples who spoke a language I understood. Now? Now everything's falling apart, and I can't even stand in the physical sense to try and put it all back together!

Link warned me what feels like ages ago that the younger, unmarried women in the castle might try something to hook me into marriage. Why oh why in any form of merciless hell did things have to boil down to it being Zelda's father coming to me with an offer!? How am I supposed to refuse without insulting the entire court- no, the country!- and finding myself strung up a tree somewhere with my boots sitting under the hangman's bed? By the Gods, I wanted a peace treaty, but I wanted it in writing!!

Nayru, I'm going to be sick- more sick than I already am that is. I don't even have the stuffed head of a normal illness either. I can breathe just fine, but I'm always freezing and find myself sweating in the nights. I keep finding it harder and harder to walk, and when I can manage the distance without becoming dizzy a dull pain works its way up my chest making my limbs feel like lead…

Oh, Nayru… Nayru, Nayru, Nayru… What's going on? I couldn't banish foul images of her and Lynna once the Bells began to ring and Link ran off to do Farore-Know's-What in some forsaken part of the world. And yet now I hear this? Missing? What? That isn't right… I know Nayru, when she dances off into time, she always tells those around her when she'll be back. Of course, normally she forgets and ends up going off for a few days longer than expected, but she's never long enough to cause anyone- aside from me- any real stress or anxiety.

More stress is the last thing I need right now, I fist my hands in my hair as I stand, pacing nervously across the thick rugs which cover most of the stone flooring. More and more the stately, wealthy air of the castle's been nagging at me, making me uncomfortable with its glamour and expense. I feel like I'm being smothered by the silks and gems in my chambers, but taking to the halls leaves me shaken not only from illness but from all those prying, measuing looks the courtiers give me. It's like I'm coming apart at the seams, and damn it all I can't do anything to stop it! I have to get out of here, I need to escape this place, but how do I manage that without ruining everything I've tried to accomplish?

There's nothing to be done about it though. I look to the thick doors of my chamber as there's a deep, crumbling slam outside, Darunia's voice thunders on the other side, and I almost feel a twinge of appreciation for the Goron's presence. Taking a deep breath, I run my hands back through my hair and drop down into my seat again, sinking into it a ways before just staring blankly at the wall across from me. Gods, what a mess this is...

Sitting up again, I look to the chest sitting on the table next to me. It isn't very big, and it's heavier than I thought it would be, strange in it's colouring and design. But the image of the twining loop of the Harp of Ages and the three images of Time tell me who it's from. Something from the past? My ancestors have left things for me before, but not very often as it's hard to make sure something will last five hundred years, or that whatever the message or item is will be of service when and if I find it.

I take the chest back into my hands, resting it on my lap as I look over the lock. I'm no thief, so I've never had to pick more locks than any normal boy, but thankfully I have the key for this one. I twist the soap-stone ring around my finger absently before slipping it off, tossing it in my palm for a moment as if to calm myself down. I've had to much on my mind recently, hopefully this will be something totally unrelated, and blessedly calming. At this point that's about all I can hope for

The keyhole isn't the same as in a door or most other chests, with no deep, narrow hole to push metal through. This lock responds to the shallow, yet wide fit of the ring's seal. I received the ring from my Grandmother after we agreed that anything she or those to follow her thought should reach me without Nayru's age would be placed in something unlockable with this same ring. It's a wonder I haven't lost it yet, and as I twist the artifact in its place, I'm rewarded with the raspy shriek of the ancient tumblers as they at long last slide into place. Slipping the ring back on, it's simply a matter now of forcing the old hinges to actually open.

For some unknown reason, my ancestors didn't think to put any sort of viable grip on the lid for me to actually use, I can assume that when it was made it opened smoothly, or perhaps they gave it a spring so that it would pop open automatically. Well, if what Lord Darunia told me is true, then I doubt any sort of spring could withstand being submerged in water for hundreds of years in a raging river, and then buried into the bedrock on which the road is being constructed. Wishful thinking, Grandmother.

Finally, with a grunt and a creek, the cursed thing finally gives way, but only by an inch or so. I huff slightly at the lack of progress, grimacing as the musky smell of old paper and possibly some intrusive water which wafts from the opening. Now with a proper grip I pry it the last of the way open, jumping slightly as -with an abrupt snap- the lid breaks off, and I stare at the carved slab of black stone for a moment like an idiot.

I'd toss it to the side, but with my luck it'd likely hit something worth more than half of Lynna and shatter it completely. Setting it down with a sharp clatter by my chair, I have to calm myself again and resist the powerful urge to sneeze as the musky smell grows stronger and less pleasant. I'm accustomed to musks after having grown up in a bloody forest, but five hundred year old mold and mildew is something I prefer to distance myself from.

In any light, a sneeze or violent movement now might very well crumble whatever parchment isn't just a lump of brown-grey powder. Another short coming of my ancestors; paper rots. Then again, the container was already transported via Goron, so I can't really see how of being gentle now could possibly make a difference.

I can't help but be careful though, looking over the contents of the casing without actually touching any of them. I'm surprised to find something more than just letters waiting for me, but at the same time I'm not. There's a bundle of parchment which is a questionable mixture of greens and browns, but I also notice the tarnished sheen of metal. Gingerly, I reach in and gently brush one of the tokens as lightly as I can, careful not to sigh with relief as it doesn't instantly crumble under my hand, not that metal ages the way paper does, but still.

It's a locket, I can see that as I note a strongly maid chain attached to the top of it and coiled into one corner of the box. Lifting it up, I can guess the thin blackened lump is probably silver, the chain all but solid in its little pile after so many years of damp confinement. The Harp of Ages is blazoned onto the front and back of the locket, and I'm a bit surprised to see how large it is. It's a keepsake, not a piece of decorative jewelry, the thin metal casing nearly as long as my hand and just as wide. I'd try to pry it open, but this time I don't want to run the risk of breaking the hinges.

For now I gently set it back down in the chest, and put the entire casing back on the table as I rise. I ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach and light buzz in my head as I cross the room towards the white basin and pitcher for washing. Fingering through the various towels, I pull out a clean white one from the folded pile before making my way back to my seat. Spreading the white across my lap, I feel more relaxed now than I have in days. For all that it matters now I could be sitting back home in my small house just outside Lynna, the only difference is the absence of Nayru fluttering about at my side, grinning widely and looking over whatever we find inside these rare but exciting time capsules. I almost ruin my rising mood with that thought though, and quickly try to force down the sudden anxiety that wells up in me. She vanished...

I pick the locket back up, fiddling with the chain for a moment and blackening my fingertips for my trouble as I give up trying to untangle it and simply set the token down on the towel. The next item is a ring which mirrors the one on my hand, save that it is made with tarnished gold and an old, age-abused stone that I can't name, but I can guess it to be a sapphire for Labrynna. The next item which seems more solid than the letters, though not by much, is a roll of leather, small, only just larger than the locket so I doubt it can be any sort of message. Nobles don't write on leather.

Undoing the musty strip which binds the crumbling hide in a roll, I have to be especially careful as the creased material not only cracks but tears itself almost half-way through as it finds my hands to still be to abrasive. Swearing slightly under my breath, I take care not to cause any more damage, trying to get a better look at it as the daylight seems to be fading through my windows. Whether the dimming is from clouds or from the time nearing evening, I can't tell. It doesn't even seem like I've been at this all that long as I look over the image before me.

It's a footprint, and needless to say I have to blink and look at it again. It doesn't change. It's a footprint- and a hand print is right over it- both are small however, like a newborn's. I haven't found anything so far to tell me which member of my family might've left this treasure box for me, the letters and contents of the locket will probably be the only ways to find out, but a baby's birth prints certainly don't make any sense. Again, this is something Nayru would take more interest in and gather more information from than I can, and again I have to force down the sick feelings which've been plaguing me for to long now.

Careful with the cracked length of leather, it's brown and black surface oddly glossy in the lowering light, I set it down on my lap with the locket and ring. I should probably make to light the candles around my room, seeing as when I twist about carefully in my seat towards the windows, the light coming through the pale drapes is tinted golden with oncoming twilight.

I'm spared the simple task however, the bruised and bent knob of my chambers rattling gently before the door slides open soundlessly upon it's hinges. A young hylian woman dressed in red skirts and a white apron and bonnet of a maid pokes her head in, giving a slight squeak as she spots me looking right at her.

"Ah, pardon me, Majesty. I came to light the torches," Her accent is a bit thick as she speaks, her words mumbling together as she stands in the doorway, a silver platter in her hands and a duster and small pouch hanging from her belt. Some of the city folk from the lower areas have a somewhat slurred accent, something that's hard to pick up on most of the time; I only really notice it in the castle servants.

"Of course, thank you." I say politely, watching as she bobs as graceful a curtsey as she can with the platter. I frown at that though, not the bow, which surprises me, but the platter. I don't… want to eat. For some reason, I feel worse than ever right after I eat, and I haven't the faintest clue why, you'd think a nice warm meal would make me feel better.

"I brought your dinner too, M'lord." She mumbles, catching my frown and pausing suddenly, her dark eyes widening at my expression, pursing her lips as her thin face almost looks to go pale. What's wrong with her?

"I see that… set it on the table, if you please?" I'm careful of the chest in my lap as she's wary of the platter in her arms as she bobs another curtsy and busies herself with setting the dish down on the writing desk across the room from me, where I gestured. I don't like being pert with the castle servants, it unnerves me to act like most of the nobility, but she's acting strange…

"Thank you," I say, watching as the quickly goes about with a bit of flint, lighting a small stub of candle from her apron pocket and swiftly bringing back the light to my chambers. She looks almost surprised at my voice, and I watch as she pauses a moment, leaving the candle lit and throwing odd shadows across her long face. She isn't exactly pretty, but she isn't ugly either, just very plain in appearance… I blink slightly as that plain face suddenly breaks into a hopeful open smile.

"Your Grace is very kind. The Princess is lucky to have you." I think I'd feel better if she'd just tried to jam that flame up my nose…

"That's… very nice to hear…" I say, trying to keep the shy smile I felt tug at my lips when she smiled from falling into a deep grimace. Servants… talk. I don't need anymore rumours than those I already have flying around. "That will be all, thank you…" She bobs another curtsey to me, puffing out her candle with a quick breath and quickly -but very quietly- makes her way across the room towards the door.

As the latch clicks shut, I'm left in almost absolute silence, complete but for the rhythmic drumming of my fingers against the stone box in my lap. I hadn't noticed how dark it was really getting in here, my chair facing away from the windows. The maid couldn't have been here for more than a minute or two, but although it was mid-day when Darunia arrived to speak with me, it's well and truly reaching the evening hours now. Somehow, I can't make up the lost time, I just don't know where it went. I can't believe I fell asleep at some point, but, did I?

Absently, I touch the various tokens which are spread out on my lap, I didn't ask the maid for anything with which to try cleaning the silver casing and bejeweled ring. That seems to be another symptom of this strange nausea I've been experiencing, portions of my day, entire afternoons or evenings, are suddenly unaccounted for. It's as though I blacked out for a time before simply snapping back to attention and going on without missing a beat. But, that's ludicrous…

My head is beginning to pound, and I frown as the confusion of my lost hours and the Maid's words start ill thoughts churning in my head again. By the gods, I don't want to review all the miserable problems going on in this castle right now. And as my eyes drift absently to the silver platter with it's dome overtop, I know for a fact that I do not want to eat.

Instead, I look to the letters. I should perhaps go and find a pair of tweezers or delicate brushes, but for the moment that seems like far too much effort to undergo. I can't risk damaging them by curling my fingers underneath trying to get the mildew-shrouded parchments out. Instead, I place one hand flat over the letters but without touching them, using my other hand to pick up the chest, and then tip it, allowing the remaining contents of the chest to fall into my waiting, and hopefully gentle grasp.

I wince as the papers crumble frighteningly as they fall in pieces from their container into my hand, half of them breaking into pieces which fall right through my fingers. Sighing, I set the chest down on the floor with it's broken lid. There were several sheets of paper, and I feel a twinge of regret as, looking over them now, I know for a well-near fact that unless Nayru suddenly waltzes into my chambers, the words will only be half-legible at best.

Sighing, I gently begin to sift through the larger and smaller bits of aged parchment, cursing the hidden flaws in the stone which allowed the water through to the contents. It can't be helped now however, and I have to make due. Eventually I'm forced to gently remove the towel from my lap, taking up an oil lamp from the writing desk and lighting it with one of the candles before I grab a small inkwell, pen, and a few sheets of paper. The added light directly at my elbow is a great relief on my eyes, and after a few minutes of work, I finally begin to feel a small, very tight smile tug at my lips.

"Well, Grandmother… let's see what you have to say…"

Hnn, this story's been giving me trouble again lately. There're so many ways to go that I'm having a hard time deciding which way's the best for the tale itself. I have a number of nice and not-so-nice endings that can happen, but it's hard to make any decisions when I can't run through a single scene even once without changing several key lines. It makes things a lot less predictable, and much harder…

One of these days I'm going to write a story that in SOME WAY, includes the other two oracles as well as Nayru, one day soon...

As in, 'parallel-to-Matters' soon…