Thought I'd be done by 35. Bah…

Matters of the State

Chapter Thirty-Five

"It's not enough."

"He can't very well imprison a man who hasn't done anything yet."

"Yet,"

"Nayru," By Farore's Wrath, she's mad at me. I hate it when she's mad at me, it happens so rarely I can never tell what it is exactly that's finally stirring her temper. Stopping in the hall, I can practically hear the low murmur of rumors being born and prospering in the castle air. I stop her with me, being more gentle than before as I turn her towards me, hands on her shoulders carefully as she's still shaking as she was short minutes ago within the throne room. I don't think it's from nerves any longer though, there's too much insult and anger in her now for that.

"Stop, tell me what's going on." Damn it, woman; you only just got here, slow down for a moment!

"Only if you'll explain it to me first." Mad at me, mad doesn't begin to describe it. I can't name the emotions fighting back and forth behind her eyes as she stares up at me defiantly. There's a red tinge to her eyes which tells me tears might be on the horizon, and I feel my stomach twist at the thought of that.

"Nayru, I don't even know where to start, tell me what's going on!" The sound of my own voice gives me a start for a moment; I hadn't meant to yell like that! Out of habit, I look up and down the lengths of the corridor, finally coming to my rooms. I swing the door open and have her walk with me inside.

"Majesty, Orac—" I sweep right past Percy as the small man leaps to his feet, my hand on Nayru's arm as I feel as though I'm dragging her across the chamber. Despite that feeling however, as I open the way towards the actual bedchamber- I don't intend to have this conversation with an audience!- it's Nayru's hand which slams the door shut behind us, not mine.

"Do you love her?"

"What!?" There's only one shut doorway, but I let myself shout anyways, to hell with these stupid courtly manners! "What in Din's Hells are you talking about!?"

"Zelda, now answer me!" She undoes the clasp of her cloak with enough force to tear the fabric, tossing it onto a nearby chair before placing her hands on her hips. I'm so used to seeing her in skirts that it's almost a shock to have her dressed like Farore; brown britches and a white top, scuffed with dirt and grime from head to toe from summer travel. The long black of her hair-almost blue even in this light- is braided tightly behind her head, but strands still escape the knots to curl across her face in a mess... By the gods I've missed her...

"No… No I don't." I can't believe myself, I've been trying for weeks now to say that to anyone else, and this is the only time the words actually come. I don't feel angry or insulted at all as I watch Nayru's face twist painfully, feeling so pitiful instead as her hand comes up and my world is sent spinning.

"Then why are you doing this!?"

"I don't know!" Gods, I feel panicked, jumpy, her raised voice causing mine to spike up as well. My head feels light from pain as my words slur together, blood spilling over my top lip and into my mouth from my injured nose. "They're like dogs, all of them! Vicious, rabid dogs!" Damn it, I must be a sight with my face all bloody like this. Turning away from her for a moment, I can hardly lift my sleeve up to try and wipe away the crimson without causing myself more pain.

"I should never have let you come here alone…" I have to look around at this.

"What are you, my nanny?" I suddenly very badly wish the words back into my mouth, but to no avail as she reaches into the fall of her vest. Oh, Din that was not smart of me. She's just going to stab me now and be done with it- I've never heard of a man being stabbed by a kerchief, but I'm sure that if anyone could Nayru would find a way to do it.

Yes, I'm aware that I'm being an idiot now. But I just keep silent from this point on as she takes my hand and tugs me towards the side of the chamber, gesturing for me to be seated as she makes her way to the wash basin nearby. She seems calmer now for some reason, but I'm still pretty sure she's mad at me…

"Ralph…" Lifting my gaze up from where I was staring at my boots, she isn't looking at me, just pouring a bit of water into the basin before swishing the kerchief around in it for a moment. "Do you remember the skunk?" What?

"What are you…?" I just let the words trail off as she picks up the basin and turns to me. Watching as she sets the bowl down on the floor next to my chair, I don't argue as she lifts the moist cloth and takes my chin in one hand, wiping away the blood in a much gentler manner than I would have expected.

"It was spring, don't you remember?" She asks, her voice calm as though she wasn't furious with me a moment before. "A skunk, it wandered into the house through the front door…" Wait, now I remember! Damn it, I am not going through this conversation again, no I am not!

"Nayru, I did not need a stick. Everything was under control." She just sort of sniffs at me, and I narrow my eyes as I take the kerchief from her, reaching over the arm of the chair to rinse it off in the bowl before taking care of my own mess myself.

"Considering the stench that followed you around for several days, you did and it wasn't." I can't believe we're going over this again, Nayru simply settling herself down onto the ottoman in front of my chair, arms folded and head held up high.

"If the door had been closed in the first place-"

"If the door had been fixed so that it could close-"

"It was fixed!" We're going over this again, Din, why are we once again fighting about this stupid, stupid thing!? I just grit my teeth despite the pain as I watch as Nayru once again stands, this time fisting her hands on her hips in a thoroughly annoyed manner and staring me down in a way I certainly don't like.

"How so, when the hinges weren't even screwed onto the frame?"

"That pillar was rotten! The whole wall needed to be taken down!" She's like a cat sometimes, a cat who hates water and was just doused with a bucketful. Turning her back on me as I speak, I finally push myself to my feet as well. Damn it! I want her to look at me when I'm speaking to her!

"Then why fix the roof!?" I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. No, I don't want her to look at me right now. The glare she sends over her shoulder at me, I can feel my resolve just sort of shrivel up and die. Oh, Farore help me. It's all I can manage not to blurt out the apology all in one go. Oh-no! I don't like how this is going, but she was most defiantly the one to start it! 'Do you remember the skunk,' my foot!

"Because--!! Because--!!"

"Hmm? Because why?" Tongue, not, moving. All she did was turn around and look at me, and now I'm tongue-tied with the words all backing into one another up my throat. Blanks, I'm just drawing blanks. Damn it, I am not this incompetent!

"Because that damn hovel's been falling apart since we were kids!" Of course, that has to be the first manageable sentence past my lips. And obviously once the first words come out, the rest are swift to reorganize and follow. "It's beyond fixing. The roof leaks, the cupboards creak; the shelves are falling off the walls. In the winter it's drafty, the spring rains soak through everything, fall the floor all turns to mud inside, and in summer Farore Alone knows how many creatures try moving in with us!" Shut up, shut up! Enough already! This isn't how this argument is supposed to end, it doesn't finish like this! We've been through it enough times; it's like a well rehearsed play for us. I can see it in her eyes; that muted confusion and surprise as I just throw away the script even though I know I really shouldn't.

I can't stop, I just can't. It's happened only so many times before, my mind keeps telling me to stop, but my mouth just keeps going. It's like I'm detached from myself, floating around overhead watching me make a fool of myself. But this time, it's not the same, nothing's fading in and out of sight, my voice doesn't sound like someone else's, like some strange person is taking over to control me and write my words out for me.

"By Din's Blazing Infernos! What sort of Prince am I supposed to be if I can't even provide for the one person who could ever be my-" Ack! No! That's more than enough! I can't even tell if it's nerves or my mind finally starting to break through that weird wall between my thoughts and words. "Be my…" It's only starting though…

"I'm not your nanny…" Of course not, you stupid woman, so don't cry now. The saving grace is how she doesn't break down into sobs and make me think I've done something wrong. I don't even know how long it takes for us to meet one another, but she feels so thin; so frail as I wrap my arms around her.

"My..."

I don't try to kiss her; don't run my hands along her back or through her hair. I don't rock her back and forth as though she were a child or sweep her off her feet like a bride in a fairy tale. I just hold her, that's all it takes.

"…My Princess…" I've felt so cold for weeks now, weak and tired, as though everything's been shutting down from the inside moving out. There's no blazing heat between us to try burning all of that away though, no sudden hunger tearing through me. There's still a warmth though, but it's something soft and soothing, like calm water or the lull of a harp.

Like warm summer days along the rivers threading through Lynna woods. Hours spent doing nothing more than checking traps for dinner, and listening to the Oracle sing…

"Let's go home…"

"Halt."

Do I look like a fool now? Have I disgraced myself yet? Here I am, promised to a man and yet running down the halls of the castle chasing after another. But I can't just stop now, how can anyone ask that of me? I've waited for so long for him to come home, and now that he's here I won't just let him be treated like a prisoner!

At least I've caught up with them, Impa's footsteps shadowing mine as I lift my skirts just enough so that I don't trip over them. I don't know how many members of the nobility I've passed who've tried to flag me down, now just isn't the time to be social!

Already we've come to the corridor lined with all the crests of my father's knights. The only one among them which is so plain to the eye draws mine inexplicably as I near it. The guards my father had escort Link from the throne room are milled about his chamber door, on edge and perhaps almost intimidated by their task. After all, this is the Hero of the Gods, how must they feel to treat him as an enemy?

"I said ha-"

"Sir Link!" Formal class is thrown to the wind with the startled cry from one soldier. I find myself suddenly at a run down the remaining length of the hall as the cry is echoed repeatedly by the other men.

"Make way for your princess!" Impa's voice is at my heels and finally is what brings the attention of the guards to me. Three of the seven are kneeling on the ground just within and next to the doorway, Link's boots visible to me where he's sprawled face down across the floor.

"He's exhausted, Majesty." The men all rise and move away a respective distance as I reach them and quickly drop down next to the fallen hero. I listen to them with only half a mind as I place my hand down on his back, silently relieved to feel the dull throb of his heart and the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Beaten, dirt smeared and scuffed from head to toe, his golden hair is so caked in grime it's nearly brown. His eyes are closed, but there's a look of discomfort- if not pain- lining his face. He doesn't even look like Link, his green tunic absent of course as a dark brown one of leather and wool covers his torso in its place. Under all the dirt and sweat, he looks so pale lying there, I'm almost afraid to look at him like this.

"Get him to bed." I feel numb and cold on the inside, but my voice doesn't falter as I give the order. "You two, carry him." How do I manage the control or the grace? I simply rise from the floor without a single falter, allowing my skirts to whisper softly as I move out of the way. The two red-clothed soldiers I motioned towards hand off their weapons to other members of the group before swiftly but carefully lifting Link's prone form and carrying him inside.

"The rest of you are dismissed. Return to your regular duties." I don't need to address the remainder of the entourage either, Impa's cold voice cutting through the silence I can feel swirling around me.

My thoughts are all a mess as I just blindly watch as Link is carried away. I feel as though I'm being tugged in two opposite directions. All those subtle nags which have been bothering me these past weeks are suddenly strengthened and emphasized seeing him here again now. Exhaustion goes hand and hand with injury; shouldn't I help him, or at the very least make sure my help is not needed? Or do I obey all the whispers and codes which state a promised woman is not to be seen in the company of an unmarried man, let alone in his chambers…

"You've not once spoken against your father since you were a child." I can hardly hear the rattling stomp of the guards as the two return and march off with the other five. Impa's voice to me is very soft, the words low where she stands just off to my right.

"I don't know anymore, Impa." I answer quietly, the doors to Link's chambers still open to his antechamber, the bedroom beyond that also open by a shy amount. Why does it look like such a long walk? "I know what I don't want, there are so many things I want to never have happen, but I don't know what should be there to take their places."

"Wisdom is weak without the courage to uphold the truth." She moves slowly although I can scarcely hear her do so, her hands resting on my arms gently where she stands behind me as a true shadow. "And courage is brash and destructive without wisdom to guide it." What do I do? The words are nearly on my lips before she speaks again…

"I have some business to attend to, Zelda." But that wasn't… what I was expecting her to say. I turn without meaning too as both her hands and presence are gone from me… For a moment I feel almost as a child whose mother has shaken them from her skirts. I don't know what the look must be which is scrawled across my face, but Impa's dark eyes give me a peculiar look behind the fall of her white bangs.

"What?" I don't even know the words to describe how I feel. It's not empty or hollow, I don't feel afraid or truly anxious, I'm not saddened, not even stunned. I feel… more like I'm floating, as though something's been severed between myself and the rest of the world. I'm floating, just drifting through my own thoughts, my body feeling so heavy and yet my mind just wandering off where it wills. Impa's words are all but a fading echo to me.

"Don't look to me for your answers, child. You should be old enough now to take control of yourself, isn't that what you've been asking for all along?" Isn't it just? I can't even find the words to answer her, Impa merely shaking her head, nodding respectfully before murmuring something about a gardener and turning away from me.

Wisdom needs courage to have itself heard…

"Majesty! Mistress Impa!" And Courage needs wisdom to stay true to itself. What a dream-like quality everything's taken, I hardly even notice Link's squire come bounding down the halls towards us. Goodness, he looks almost as bad as his lord, all splotched with mud and layered in grime. Why is he wearing a grown man's tunic? In this heat?

"By the gods, boy! You don't need to roll around with the pigs, just watch over them from the gate!" Clearly, he hasn't only captured my attentions, but Impa's as well. I watch as he finally reaches us, looking nervously towards his Lord's chambers before remembering himself and bowing lowly to me. He even has a grown soldier's helmet swinging around on his head, what a fool he looks dressed like that.

"Majesty, Mistress Impa, what's going on?" I can't help myself, even in this nub state I nearly laugh as he looks back and forth between us in a stunned manner. His face and voice are serious and concerned, but as he whips his head around the visor of his helmet comes snapping down across his face unexpectedly. "Everyone's talking and saying different things; My Lord is to be put to death? He married the Oracle of Seasons? My Ladies, some are even saying the goddesses themselves have descended unto the world again!" The comedy of the situation is quickly spent it seems…

"Impa, if you could put off your duties…?" I suggest hopefully, watching as my shadowing mentor simply nods to me before looking back down to my smaller cousin again.

"Calm yourself, boy. No one is being put to death, come with me and get cleaned up, I'll have you running the true story around as soon as you stop reeking of filth… Princess." I nod to her as she gives a bow to me this time, my cousin props his visor up before offering a bow himself, nearly unbalancing his dwarfed form and sending the entire helmet toppling to the floor. Nayru, don't tell me anyone's recognized him in that get up…!

They both turn and leave without a word more, Timothy shyly glancing once over his shoulder towards me, the oversized helmet held in one hand as he follows on Impa's heels. I can read it in his eyes, he's concerned above all else for Link's safety, as am I.

His chamber doors have never seemed more forbidding to me, how strange considering they're wide open for me now. Even when I entered them while he was absent, it was little more than just a little dreary to be inside, draining on me. But now, standing here all alone and knowing the entire palace is already rife with talk of scandal and dishonour, it's more difficult than ever to make myself move.

I just want to see him, the fool. I just want to make sure he's really here and that he's alright. I've missed him so much; it isn't fair that he should be aloud to vanish like that for an undetermined amount of time. It leaves me with too many worries…

I don't know how, but today I just seem to be finding strength without previously having it. I won't say his rooms feel any lighter already, everything coming to have been covered in a thin sheen of dust after the better part of the summer has seen these chambers vacant. The windows are still all covered, and although I could part the drapes, it doesn't feel right to disturb anything just yet. All I can manage is to close the door behind me, and for a moment I can hardly breathe as everything is just so silent in here…

How I have the gall to name him a fool and then find myself thus is almost disgusting. Others may live here, true, but this palace is my home, I should not feel shame or fear upon entering any of its chambers. The man who resides in these rooms, I trust him above all others, I fear for him as well, what could make this at all wrong then? Foolish codes and whispers, that's all; I have my honour, don't I? I wouldn't sully it, no matter what any gossips might find themselves twittering over.

My slippered feet whisper across the rugs and dark wood of the floors, crossing to the bedchamber and I find myself frozen again as I rest my hands along the frame. It's all so silent, so dark and almost like the den of a beast, but honestly, why am I so afraid? Is it even fear? I can feel my throat going sore for all that I've hardly spoken today, my head aches as my eyes try to pry through the shadows which swallow the contents of the next room almost completely.

Those guards must indeed have been shaken, some of my resolve coming back to me as I step within the bedchamber proper and feel a sharp sting of disapproval. The savior of our lands and many more, a man chosen by the gods to carry out their designs; one of my fathers' most esteemed knights and a friend to most of the others as well all up and down the ranks… And yet I stand here now able to see that those other men simply tossed their Hero fully clothed onto the bed and then scampered away with their tails between their legs.

Turning back to the chamber before this one, I quickly take up one of the candel-sticks resting atop one of the tables. Link's chambers are not the most decorated, but that does not mean he does not keep items which make them functional. I do not busy about trying to find flint or tinder for the wick either, instead, I fist my left hand loosely, feeling a tingle run across my hand and arm, a soft warmth bursting within my chest before flowing down along the lines of that earlier charge. Touching the tips of my fingers to the wick I can feel the energy flow through me and into the wax-coated cord. Heat, light, a small sparkle of magic, and I look back to the bedroom without anymore doubts.

There's so little light in these rooms when the windows are covered, but if Link is to awaken I don't want it to be by having harsh daylight sent flashing across his face. Holding the candle high enough for the light to spread in a golden pool before my feet, I'm not nearly as familiar with this room as the antechamber where we've often spent evenings speaking and enjoying one another's company. Setting the light down on a small table next to the bed however, I can finally get a proper look at him, and see what needs to be done.

Sheets can be washed at any time, but even in the red light of the candle I can tell he really is pale. It's not worth it to wake him up for the sake of bedding which's likely grown stale over all these weeks unused. Instead, I can at least try to make him more comfortable. I can see chain mail edging the hem of his tunic, a few of the dirtied links twinkling in the low light.

I try not to wake him up as I roll him onto his side, finding it to awkward and useless to try fighting at all with the covers. What he needs now is sleep for what it is, once he's regained some of his energy I'm sure he'll be more than willing to wash up before going back to bed properly. I'll have to get him onto his back eventually, but the first order is removing the gold clasped length of the Master Sword still strapped to his back.

It's heavier than I'd have thought it to be, I don't know why though. I've held swords of this style before, long swords which can be wielded with one or two hands dependant on the swordsman. Perhaps I had thought that Farore's Blade would be lighter than a weapon of normal steel. I'm also surprised by the grip of it, holding it by the wings and hilt as I drag it from the bed to place next to it against the walls. Normally swords have lengths of leather wrapped around the hilts for grip and comfort, but all my hand meets is the oddly warm and unnamable material of the sword hilt, the hard edges digging into my fingers before I let it rest with a dull clatter against the wall.

That done, I pause for a moment to notice his lack of shield, but there's nothing I can do about that. Instead I simply go back to what I was doing; namely letting him roll the rest of the way onto his back. It takes a few minutes for me to fight his boots off, and I keep my eyes open for any signs of injury as I undo the laces and straps of his gloves to pull them off as well. Like most of my father's knights, he has the rough, scarred hands of a warrior, but I'm careful with them anyways. I can't help but frown as I note the raw scrapes of reins held to tightly, the skin is hot to the touch although I can see the marks are old, so that can only mean he didn't take the time to tend to his own needs while traveling…

"Hero perhaps, but still a fool…" I whisper softly, brushing a few strands of his matted hair out of his eyes. The tunic and mail next, and then I'll leave him to sleep. This outfit is different from his normal attire; although I call it a tunic really it's more akin to body armor, wool and leather pads making up the bulk of it, showing me it's clearly not his.

The leather laces along his sides are too hard to undo with my hands gloved as they are, and I set the green pair down on the table next to the candle for a few minutes. Of course, there's still the task of getting the bulky article up over his head and off.

At this, I have to hesitate though, just stand here a moment with the light of the single candle wavering softly in an unfelt draft. He looks so exhausted, fallen into a deep slumber, but oddly I don't feel a sense of peace coming from him. For a moment I consider pouring some water from the basin on the table nearby, wanting to wipe away at least a few layers of grime from his face. But, I then remember that since these rooms haven't been used over the course of the summer, there probably isn't anything there to pour.

If anyone were to walk in now, what would I tell them? Lifting my skirts with a slight rustle, I sit on the bed up behind him, working my hands under his shoulders and head trying to push him up into a seated position. I feel a pang of sympathy for him as he gives a soft groan, and suddenly regret having moved him as he starts to tip over, one of his hands coming down however to stop him from doing so.

"I'm sorry, but you'll sleep better without all of that on…" I whisper softly, watching the light play off the dirtied blond of his hair as he shakes his head in a sluggish manner, as though trying to clear his thoughts. Edging forwards, I don't even know if he heard me or not, not sure how awake moving him could have caused him to be. I should perhaps just move, stand and walk around so that we can see one another. But for some reason I can't bring myself to get up, the idea of it-although logical- just doesn't seem right.

"I've missed you so much…" Somehow it feels so much better to move closer to him instead, to place my hands on his slumped shoulders and rest my head against the curve of his neck. I can't pretend he doesn't smell strongly of travel dirt and horses, of many days –perhaps weeks- of uncleanliness, but it doesn't bother me just now. I can look past it all just knowing he's come home again.

I'm almost… hurt by the lack of reaction from him. Link's shoulders rolling back once tensely before his hands reach for the collar of the tunic, forcing me to move as he pulls the thick, cumbersome tunic up over his head with a tired and frustrated grunt. I know from experience that he isn't talkative when woken up unexpectedly, or after having been sleeping at all, but I almost take the lack of response as rude.

"Link," Why do I need him to acknowledge me? Standing, I don't bother smoothing out my skirts as I just end up bunching them together again as I place myself in front of him now. I didn't need to speak with him a moment ago, when he was asleep, why is it so important to me all of the sudden that he look at me and respond to my words?

To look at him now from this angle, the candle nearly behind him but for a few degrees, I can hardly see his face at all, only the pale stony blue of his eyes where they're half-lidded and only partly focused. But no, I know he's awake, only just drifting in that half-realm of sleep and not. I know he's exhausted, and that he needs nothing more than a chance to just sleep uninterrupted. I'll admit I still know nothing as to what he's been through all these long weeks, but I can't keep myself silent now, I feel as though I've been biting my tongue all summer.

"Link," Placing my hand against the side of his face, it's as though I've suddenly gathered his attention, all of it. At my touch, I watch as his glazed eyes blink before opening properly. Sleep still drags them down again though, his head not lifting with true wakefulness, but what attention he can spare from himself I know is given to me.

I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to him, this reality making me suddenly feel both foolish and cruel as he's trying to listen and yet I have nothing to say. My thoughts simply scatter, and the soft, gentle feel of him leaning into my hand does little to help bring the words.

"What happened to you..?" I don't know how I can make it out in the dim light, that black void in the midst of the glittering metal covering his chest. Allowing my one hand to slip from where it was resting against his cheek, the fingers of the other swiftly move towards that portion of black. I nearly jump as the sharp feeling of torn metal grazes the tips of my fingers, the sharp sting of the metal drawing a faint trail of crimson.

Something, something punched right through the metal links… tore right through the spelled armor. What? And how? My thoughts are so wound up that I hardly feel his hand close around mine, I simply look to him again knowing the worry running through me is clearly etched across my face.

"Later…" His voice is so hushed; the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips as I finally notice how he's holding my hand. It's not a firm grip per-say, but I can feel the tips of his fingers moving across the back of my hand in a tender way. He gives a soft, husky laugh that's little more than a rough exhale, and any more words from me die as he gently lifts and touches his lips to the backs of my fingers.

"All of it… later… I promise." His breath is so warm; I can feel heat surging up across my face as my heart begins to thunder in my ears. I find myself nodding to him woodenly, quickly standing but allowing him to keep his hold on me as I turn my hand around in his until he lets go. Reaching for his collar again as he did with the tunic now sitting half inside out on the bed by his legs, the mail takes him a moment longer to tug and heave over his head. But it's only a moment, and as he finishes he lets the glittering mass of links slide to the floor with a metallic sigh.

This time he doesn't topple onto his side, or pass out dramatically as he did in the doorway. Instead I watch for a moment before helping him settle onto his side on the bedding. Absently I watch him tug at the summer quilts for a moment before he clearly reaches the same conclusion I did earlier; it's not worth the effort.

I should bring a chair over to the bedside, there are two set up near the bed which don't look to heavy to lift- they must be for himself and his squire. Instead, I ignore the already wrinkled lengths of green silk swirling about my ankles, simply lowering myself to my knees and then resting down on the floor next to him. His bed isn't so high that I can't see him anymore when I sit like this, although it is a bit of a stretch for my arm as I reach up to him again.

Sleep is so swift to take him, his eyes drifting shut even as his head just touches down on the pillows. It takes only a few moments more for his breathing to even out in to a slow, steady pattern. Now there's peace.

I should leave now, but I really don't want too. It's still only just past mid-day, but here with the daylight shut out I could convince myself it's past time for the moon to be setting. Beyond these chambers I know nothing more than matters of the state and noble wild-fire rumors are waiting for me to address them one after the other. But here there's peace. I've been waiting so long for this moment, for this silence. Just been waiting to find the strength to just stop running in these useless circles and let everything sort itself out- at least in my mind.

If someone were to walk in right now, what would I say to them? What could I say? Watching my own hand gently combing through the grimy, matted lengths of Link's hair, it's a question which doesn't send a tremble down my spine. What if Ralph opened the door? The Prince I'm promised to, if he saw me here, alone in the dark with another man all alone…

I think… I would finally tell him no. If it were my father, just no. Let them both come in, arm and arm with bards and minstrels playing and half the court in attendance.

I would tell them no. And I will.

School's out! School's out! Chya!

There, romance, happy now?