-Prelude IX-

There was no doubt about it. Misko was just plain out of luck.

Ever since he began his little 'venture' with his fellow merchants, the world seemed dead set on turning every opportunity just within his grasp to ash. From Kakariko to Rito Village, there wasn't a day that the sun didn't beat down on their backs till their skin burned bright red, or the storms rolling in to wash them out till their carts sank in the mud and soaked their wares till they were unfit for selling or rendered useless beyond repair. There was the heat, the cold, the wind, the rain and even snow―in the tundra up north, that is―and it was all bent on one purpose:

Make poor old Misko fail.

At least, that's how he saw it. I should have stayed in Termina, he thought bitterly. At least there I could sell my masks. But alas, no one in Hyrule seemed very keen on buying such colorful adornments. Not even his Keaton mask could catch the attention of any well-off children. They were too busy swing around pretend swords like that supposed 'Hero' everyone kept talking about. Ungrateful little buggers, he thought.

And well, if he couldn't sell his cute little Keaton mask, then there was no way on the good green earth he was going to sell his other masks. His Gibdo, Stone, and Giant's mask were all too scary to sell to anyone, and the Sheikah didn't take to kindly to him trying to sell a replica of the fabled Mask of Truth.

Apparently, it wasn't very polite.

Bah! Yes, the world was certainly just down on him today. It was like he had to carry the moon on his shoulders every step of the way.

But, on that particularly wet late summer day, a flicker of hope seemed to shine down upon him. It just so happened that while he was on the road between the old Hyrule Ranch and Mabe Village, that he met a wonderfully―fortuitously―familiar face.

"My, my, my," Misk laughed, throwing his hands up in the air, greeting his familiar acquaintance with gusto. "If it isn't the heroic bowman of Hateno! Fortune seems to smile upon me today, I've not seen a familiar face in many months. Spare an old friend an ear?"

The young man, whose hair was as golden as the day he saved him from that nasty horde of Bokoblins near Kakariko village those short few years ago, was tied back neatly like a sharp soldier on inspection day. His tunic, which was as vibrant as the blue sky above, marked him as a man of worth now―not to mention the ornamental sword resting on his back. And atop his horse striding alongside a fair young lady, it was obvious the world had done the young lad many favors.

And where there was favor, there was money, no doubt.

Though Misko was admittedly a little hurt when the young lad did not seem to remember him. "Misko, my name is, good sir," he said, bowing showily, his signature grin reaching ear to ear. "I am saddened to see you do not recall my name. You once saved me and my caravan from a horde of Bokoblins, perhaps four years ago? Yes?"

The young man's eyes flickered with remembrance, and he nodded. Still a quiet one, this guy.

"Yes, very good. You do remember! And my, my, and please forgive my manners. Who is this fine lady riding at your side, young lad?" It was true the young beauty of silky golden hair could have matched any royal for grace and loveliness. He was sure she had money too… Perhaps she was some noble; a knight's daughter. "I see Hylia has seen you rise up in the world with your fine clothes and pretty ladies."

"Careful with your tongue towards the Lady," the bowman―well, swordsman now―said in a tone that was not rude, but cusping firmness. Misko was wise enough to take the hint. So, she was certainly a high-born lady. That was good.

"Ah, please forgive me," Misko said, his grin never faltering. "I meant no offense, but I do speak from the truth of my heart, kind Lady." He cleared his throat. "Say, kind Lady, you seem like an adventurous and curious spirit. Might I interest you in my wares? I fare from the far away land of Termina, where the Dekus still run wild and the Keatons still roam freely."

The young ladies' ears perked up at the mention of Keatons, and in a blink of an eye Misko knew this was his chance to seal a profitable deal.

"Ah yes, the rare yellow tailed Keaton, a rare but beautiful breed," he continued. "They fetch a fair price even in Termina. Would you like to see this wonderful mask I have to trade? It was made by the finest craftsmen in all of Termina!" That was a lie. Really he bought the silly thing off some street peddler with a twisted mustache who probably couldn't tell his left hand from his right.

To his joy, the pretty Lady smiled and nodded excitedly.

With a splitting grin, Misko pulled of the heavy pack weighing down his back, and from it he produced a wooden mask painted in vibrate arrays of yellow, black, and white. The pretty young Lady accepted it graciously, a small smile creeping its way across those lovely lips of hers.

"Its quite an endearing little thing," she said, running a finger over the mask's ears. Her smile was as sweet as honey. "How much would you sell it for, Master Misko?"

"For you, fine Lady, one-hundred rupees! Normally I would charge two-hundred, but I owe your escort a great debt." Bowing deeply, Misko smirked with pleasure. The money was as good as his.

"One-hundred rupees…" the young lady sighed. "I am sorry. I normally carry very little money on me… I've never had any need to bring much, you see, I've always been provided for. Perhaps you would be heading to Hyrule Castle? Castletown is a lively trading center. You would do well there, and I might happen upon you someday… I really would―"

The fair Lady's words fell off as she cocked a puzzled eye to her companion as he dug something up from his saddle bag. And wonders beyond wonders, the young swordsman threw a rupee purse to Misko. He snatched it out of the air effortlessly, and carefully analyzed each rupee.

Ten, twenty, ninety, one-hundred… It was all there. Yes… this young lad had certainly done well for himself! Surprisingly, however, it seemed Misko was the only one happy about it.

"I don't need you to pay for me," the young Lady said peevishly to her escort, sparing a sharp eye his direction. "I am more than capable of handling things myself."

"As you say, my Lady," the young lad replied, his face set harder than stone. This answer only seemed to make the fair Lady angrier―and perhaps a touch embarrassed, if her red face was anything to go by―but, swallowing her pride, the pretty Lady turned away from her escort and offered a sincere thanks for such an adorable gift, going on about how she was going to pay her Knight back no questions asked.

The pretty Lady sure did have a temperament on her… That or her escort was an ass.

Maybe both, Misko thought with a chuckle.

And so, with their transaction complete, Misko waved his benevolent patrons a warm goodbye and carried on with his trek to Mabe Village. He counted his newly acquired rupees in his hand greedily more than once. One-hundred… That was only going to last him about a week if he was frugal. If he wanted to get rich, he was going to have to start stealing again.

The idea fancied him. Perhaps I will pay Hyrule Castle a visit, he thought. I'm sure their coffers are packed to the brim there. Maybe there will be some items of notable value…

Chapter Eighteen

Better to Burn Down One Tree

Amilia never fancied herself as a particularly coordinated washing-maid, but today it seemed that her ability control herself had sprouted wings and flown out the window. There was no greater fool on Hylia's good green earth than herself, that she was certain about.

With every passing second Amilia spent elbow deep in the warm soapy water scrubbing away like her life depended on it, the ever surmounting fear that what she had done was irreversible began to grow closer to a grim reality. It made her stomach churn till she feared she would vomit.

Amilia hated to admit it, but she just couldn't stop crying like a child who accidentally broke their mother's favorite vase. Even as she thought of every possible way to mend the problem―every little trick, every meticulous and roundabout plan―hope was slipping surely through her fingers.

And the shame was insurmountable.

At least there was no one around to hear her weep. All the other servants were busy tending to their chores like amiable retainers should, not a fault or misstep in their comings and goings. And while they worked without a care in the world, she slaved away in the wash room, praying to Hylia for a miracle among miracles.

If she didn't get that awful ink stain out of Princess Zelda's dress, then she was done for.

She was already at the end of her rope with Misses Laure, the head washing-maid, after she tore a hole in one of the table linens from the banquet hall. 'Those table linens are worth more than your entire yearly salary,' Misses Laure said with a finger pointed at her nose. 'I ought'a box your ears till your deaf!'

Amilia learned a hard lesson that day: Don't make Misses Laure angry. But, it seemed she couldn't keep to that lesson. She had gone and made a fool of herself once again!

Cupping her face in her soapy hands, Amilia wept even harder, trying her best to contain her loud sobs. The skirt was utterly ruined, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I can't go back," Amilia moaned. She needed this job. To lose it would to resign her fate as a street corner beggar once more, too young tempt men for rupees, and too old for an orphanage. She would go hungry once more. Homeless, destitute. This job was her last hope, her last refuge, and now… It was sure as the rising sun in the morning to be lost.

That is at least until the strangest thing happened…

It was during her longest fit of bereft tears that an unfamiliar voice asked, "are you alright?"

Amilia nearly jumped out of her skin from the sudden intrusion. She was quick to blot away the warm tears running down her cheeks, but it did little in the way of redeeming her dignity. Whoever it was, she wasn't ready to look them in the eyes just yet.

"I fine," she insisted, "thank you." Amilia tried not to sniffle, but it was better than letting her nose run. She just needed a moment to collect herself… Yes, that was all she needed, just a moment.

"I'm sorry, but―" But the words died out in her throat when she realized who had entered.

Amilia had only every seen Sir Link but once before, on the day that he was knighted in Castle Town… she was so ecstatic then. To think that they had found the living incarnation of a Hero in her lifetime! It made her squirm with excitement and hope; everyone did. It was like living in some sort of fairytale, and yet…

Well, fairytales were nothing but children's fancies.

Shortly after his knighting, Amilia had come to be employed in Hyrule Castle, where she began her honest work as a wash-maid, and learned the finer details of this supposed Hero. From all the gossip she had heard from the other maids, it seemed that this Link of Hateno was rather content with treating the Princess poorly.

He spited the Princess, they said, always finding new ways to press in on sensitive subjects; testing her patience through an arrogantly selective muteness. It was like he thought she was below him, unworthy to even speak too, as if that Sword on his back made him better than her. He was as silent as the grave, the servants whispered, stony and unfeeling. Cold.

At least, that's what she had heard.

All the same, Amilia wondered what made him so special? Why did the Master Sword choose him?

It didn't make much sense to her to give a man that behaved like that such immense power and responsibility. If it was true, then why couldn't he see that the Princess was doing her best? Why should he be so hard on her just like her father? Weren't Heroes supposed to be merciful and understanding?

Amilia was very on edge about this whole Hero business now, and rightfully so, she thought.

"Are you harmed?" The young Hero asked, his cool blue eyes scanning over her like one of those Sheikah machines… it made her chest knot up with anxiousness.

"No," Amilia replied cautiously, blinking and sniffling away the last of her tears. "I am just fine, thank you."

"Then why are you crying?" It was strange… his tone was almost… gentle. Perhaps she had heard wrong.

"It is nothing to worry yourself with, Sir Link," Amilia explained, hiding the Princess's dress under the water… He wouldn't tattle on her, would he? "But may I ask, why are you down here?"

"I came to gather my saddle bags from the grooms," he replied, stepping further into the room. "They seem to always forget to bring them up to my room." Amilia was sure that was no accident. Even the grooms had heard about how this Hero was mistreating the Princess, no doubt they thought to serve some small justice.

"I'm sure your bags are down the hall, second door on the right," Amilia said, "that's where they usually unload. Now, is there anything else I can help you―" Amilia gave a small cry when Sir Link suddenly knelt down beside the washing tub and pulled up the Princess's ink stained dress from the murky water.

"Please, Sir," she pleaded, snatching it away. "Its nothing for you to worry about."

"What happened?" He asked. Again, there was a surprising hint of gentleness to his mellow tone. "This is this Princess's dress, yes?"

"It is… but it's nothing that should concern you. Please, I need to get back to work."

"Have you tried alcohol?" The question gave Amilia a long wondering pause. "It can help remove ink stains…"

Now how did he know that?

"Yes, I've tried alcohol," Amilia blurted out before she could think. "I've tried everything." She knew she should have shut her mouth, but with each word the next just seemed to pour out, and for a moment she was certain she would begin to sob again.

"I've tried warm and cold water," she continued. "I've tried soap, I've tried vinegar, I've tried everything! I've been scrubbing for hours now but there's just too much and the fabric…" The fabric was a delicate lacy material to begin with. It was a miracle she hadn't torn it already, scrubbing the way she had. At this point, she would cause more damage than good.

"And it's still there?" The young Knight examined the dress in his hands, his eyebrows knotting with deep thought.

"I… I have to get it out," Amilia groaned, tears welling up in her eyes again. "This is the Princess's favorite dress… It belonged to her mother before she died… It means so much to her. I would be thrown out of the castle if anyone found out."

"How did it happen?" Link asked. "The ink?"

Amilia's face grew hot with embarrassment and shame. "I've been trying to learn to read and write," she whimpered. "But I have so little time to practice my letters that I usually take my supplies with me in here and practice when I have a break in my work…" She bit back a sob. "But like an idiot I knocked my ink well over and it got all over the Princess's dress…"

She didn't know why she told him… But she just couldn't bottle up the shame anymore.

"I see." With a long, almost methodical breath, the young Knight continued to examine the Princess's ruined dress, until he suddenly stood and wrung till it was only damp.

"What are you doing?"

"Come with me," he said simply. There was no question in his tone. It was a command. And she had not the courage to disobey. Even though her heart raced with fear, her mind begging her to run, her feet began to move. And with her head held low, she slunk away behind his back as he led her up through the servant's quarters and out into the access corridors.

Sir Link walked with a focused purpose; each foot fell confidently and assuredly like a soldier in formation. In a strange sort of way, it almost felt as if he was marching her off to trial, where she would assuredly be found guilty.

But then again, she was guilty of being a fool.

Even though it was an accident, she did ruin the Princess's dress, and that was that. There was no arguing it.

And so, Amilia took a deep breath, and resigned to her fate. She was just going to have to find another job, somewhere. Maybe if she dressed a certain way she could appear old enough to serve as a tavern maid. She was only twelve after all, that was old enough to do even something as simple as serve drunkards and travelers their meals.

Or maybe she could find an apprenticeship as a seamstress… Surely there was always a need for a good seamstress.

Amilia could only hope for the best now. It seemed that Sir Link intended to march her right up too Misses Laure and tell her what happened… or worse…

Oh Hylia above…

Without a word, Sir Link led her higher and higher up into the castle, slipping through corridor to corridor, until they both stood at the threshold of a doorway she knew all to well. The doorway to Princess Zelda's bedroom.

He wasn't about to…

"Sir, please," she begged, pushing against all common sense and grabbed onto his arm before he could knock. "It was an accident, I swear! Please, I'll just go now! I won't make a fuss, just don't make me face the Princess―"

But he knocked anyways. Amilia's heart froze in her chest as his knuckles rapped against the door. I should have run away right from the start, she bewailed in her mind. She should have just left without a word. And yet it felt as if her feet were weighed down by iron shackles.

She was going to have to face the Princess. She was going to have to tell her that she ruined her mother's dress; she had ruined the Princess's most treasured heirloom like some country bumpkin!

Amilia was certain she would faint as the door swung open. In fact, she nearly did.

"What are you doing here?" Lini never struck Amilia as a pleasant sort of lady's maid―she had never heard her speak softly to anyone but the Princess herself―but witnessing the way that old hag's round eyes grew sharp and indignant at the very sight of Sir Link, Amilia was certain any one of her underhanded comments would pale in comparison to what she was about to say to the Hero.

"There is a matter I need to speak to the Princess about," Sir Link replied, seemingly unaffected by Lini's dangerous glare.

"What is this about, boy? I think you've stirred enough trouble for the Princess the last few days, you will just have to wait another time. And what is this washing-maid doing here? And what―" Lini's mouth crept open when she saw the Princess's ruined dress bundled up in Sir Link's hand.

"What did you do?" Lini demanded.

"I will discuss it with the Princess," he replied, unwaveringly. Amilia thought she would melt into the floor. And she nearly did when the Princess herself stormed through, her face affixed with an already souring expression.

And it only grew worse when Sir Link presented the ruined dress to her. Amilia couldn't help but sob. This was the end of her career at Hyrule Castle, and now both the Princess and the Hero Chosen by the Sword was going to be there to witness it!

"What on earth did you do!?" The Princess's voice had an almost airless, raspy quality to it, no doubt from shock, but Amilia couldn't bear looking her in the eyes to confirm her worst fears.

"I spilled ink on your dress."

Now Amilia's heart really did stop… Did he just…?

"It was an accident," Sir Link continued as calmly as if he were merely speaking of the weather. "I was walking back to my room after gathering my saddlebag from the grooms, which was holding a poorly corked inkwell, and when I turned the corner," he paused and motioned to Amilia, "I stumbled over this young wash-maid. She was carrying your dress to be cleaned. She is not in the wrong, it was my fault for being so careless, I was not watching where I walked. I brought her here so you would not find fault in her."

The Princess blinked several times before she could even seem capable of responding.

"This is my mother's dress," she whispered emotionally, gripping the folds of it's skirt in her fingers. "This was my most treasured possession. And you… You've gone and ruined it." The Princess looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"I understand this has caused you great distress," Sir Link said stoically. "I must offer my sincerest apologies―"

"You don't get to apologize, you beast," the Princess snapped, her eyes glistening with wetness. She ripped the dress away from his hands vehemently. "Ever since you came here you've cause me nothing but trouble. On purpose or not, I don't care anymore, but now this? Goddesses above why must you curse me like this! Get out of my sight, I cant stand to even look at you right now!"

Before Sir Link even had a chance to say anymore, the door was slammed in his face. On the other side Amilia could hear the muffled cries of the Princess, and the reassuring words of her eldest maid, and yet for what seemed like an eternity, she could do nothing but stand there agape.

Was she dreaming? Surely this was all just a nightmare, and all it would take was a pinch to wake up.

And yet, a pinch on her arm did nothing but turn red. She worked tirelessly to put everything together in her head, but she did not get the chance to stand there all day to. For as silently as he had come, Sir Link turned away from the Princess's door, and struck off down the hallway, his boots echoing on the hard-marbled floor, once again faintly reminiscent of a soldier in a long march.

"Wait!" Stumbling into a run, Amilia managed to catch up to Link before he turned the corner, but he hardly slowed down on her account. He seemed lost in thought to pay her much mind. She was almost too scared to interrupt him.

"Why did you do that for me?" she finally found the courage―and the sense―to ask. "Why would―"

"How old are you, kid?" he suddenly asked.

"Twelve," Amilia answered nervously. "Just barely twelve." The young Knight nodded solemnly, sparing her a glance that could almost be described as… gentle.

"You're very young to be working in the castle," he sighed. "But I suppose that's how it is for most of us… What's your name?"

"Amilia."

"Well, Amilia," he said, slowing down at the intersection of four winding corridors. The Knight regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. His face was so hard to read. In one way, Amilia thought it looked sad almost, in a somber sort of way, and yet in another it was plain and unchanging as stone. It was if he wore a mask that somehow just didn't fit quite right. Like it was peeling away at the edges.

"Try to be careful next time. Keep a good level head on those shoulders and you'll be just fine." Amilia had to grab his arm again to stop him from leaving so soon, even though it frightened her. He was a Knight, after all, and the Hero no less, it was very inappropriate for her to touch him so…

But she just had to know…

"Why did you do it? Why did you take the blame for me?" For a dreadfully long time, those deep blue eyes of his considered her thoughtfully till her cheeks began to feel warm. "I… You didn't even know me, and I… well, all of the maids thought…" They all thought that he was some mean-spirited brute. They had all conspired the same rumors.

"Better to burn down one tree than the whole forest," Sir Link said almost in a whisper, his eyes finally turning away, only this time they were downcast.

"I don't… I don't understand."

"The Princess," he sighed. "Well. She can be quite a force to reckon with. There's no sense in having you suffer the brunt of it. Besides…" the young Knight looked back to the way they had come, down the hallway leading to the Princess's doorway. After a long pause it seemed as if he had changed what he intended to say next. "Well, it doesn't matter now. Take care, Amilia."

"But isn't it unfair?" Amilia blurted out. "Why should you have to take blame alone? Not… not that I'm ungrateful, Sir―truly, I'm in your debt, I can't thank you enough―but it's not fair. It was my fault. The way the Princess yelled at you… Does it not hurt your feelings?"

"Hurt?" The young Knight gave the word a considerable pause, and then before he left, he said in all serious, "Not at all."

And well… Link always was a good liar.

Its good to be back, my friends. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it was one I had in mind from the very beginning, though I don't know why. Anyways, again sorry it was such a long wait, work keeps changing my schedule. But hey, here we are, Book 2 Chapter 18! Looking forward to the next few spicy chapters, I can only promise things will get worse before they get better.

But don't lose hope, when it gets better, it'll be FeelsGoodMan time... At least until Ganon shows up and kills everyone... But don't worry, that too will have a happy ending!

Anyways, please let me know what y'all thought of this chapter! See you on the flip side!

-Bold