The brush made soft rushing sounds as it ran through Zelda's hair, the bristles fine and soothing on her scalp. She sat before her mirror, eyes closed, Impa behind her, her motions methodological and sure. She felt her hair part, the larger section pulled to the back as two long tresses were moved to frame her face. Deftly, Impa sectioned her hair and plaited her frames into two braids, before drawing them around the sides of her head and weaving the rest of her hair into them. A warm hand on her shoulder told her it was done.
Zelda opened her eyes, tilting her head this way and that. Her hair was an intricate crown, bunched into a smooth, elegant bun at the back, with exquisite weaving patterns framing her hairline, rising in graceful curves all around, like a stream in spring. Delicately, Impa plucked a small, pink daffodil from the vase and threaded it just behind her ear. The delicate colour complimented the light rouge on her cheeks.
Zelda nodded, and allowed Impa to spray her throat with a perfume made of spring blossoms. She rose and slipped on her heeled shoes, covering her feet with the hem of her regal gown. It was a simple thing, but in its simplicity was its obvious message. She was so much more than her appearance. The sash of royal purple at her waist matched the day cloak Impa fastened to her shoulders, and as a last touch, clipped an elegant golden chain about her throat. Zelda took one last look at herself in the mirror. She looked every image of a princess in that moment.
She arranged her face into an expression of regal impassivity, and led the way out of her chambers. She passed guards and nobles and servants as she descended through the castle, each bowing and curtseying in their turn. Murmurs of "Princess," and "your Highness" reached her ears, and she acknowledged each with a minute nod. The weather outside the castle walls was warm and bright, but low clouds gathered on the horizon. Zelda willed them to hurry forth.
Zelda opted to take the narrower corridors on the ground floor that would lead her to the gardens without being seen by the majority of her court. The hem of her dress whispered on the cold stone as she went, her hands resting gently atop one another in front of her stomach.
The gardens were bright and airy, the flowerbeds practically spilling onto the path in their abundance. Heady scents of hollyhock, candytuft and hyssop filled the air, and Zelda made her careful way to the stone rise that overlooked the sprawling garden. Leaning on the white marble railing was Lord Dool, his footmen and personal guard standing a respectful distance away.
As she approached, Lord Dool turned, and Zelda saw him full for the first time. He was taller than she had expected, and surprisingly handsome, with a neatly trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard and dark eyes. When he smiled at her, she saw a wink of gold between his lips, and took note of a pale scar on his jaw, that peered out above his beard and ended just below his cheekbone. His clothes were gaudy, fine silks and satins, and his shoulders were broad. He appeared younger than a man in the middle of his fourth decade.
"Your royal highness," Lord Dool said, his voice soft in the morning air. He produced a bouquet of yellow roses, the same yellow as the sash at his waist, and offered them to her. "I am humbled and honoured by your presence."
"Lord Dool," Zelda replied, accepting the roses and admiring them. "I thank you for agreeing to meet with me."
"The pleasure belongs to me," Lord Dool replied, his mouth curling into a lazy smile. His eyes slid away from her face to rove over her figure in a most brazen way. His gaze lingered for a moment behind the roses as she held them before her chest, and Zelda felt a flush creep up her neck.
"Let us walk together, my princess," Lord Dool said, offering his arm. Zelda took it with some reluctance, noting that his arm was not muscled as his clothing would have her believe, but rather wiry under all the padding. Briefly, she wondered how hot he must be under all that stuffing, and she set the pace at a brisk walk, passing the roses to Impa.
"You must have heard a great many of my exploits, in order to wish to meet with me," Lord Dool said as they descended the marble steps and began their walk around the gardens. "Many a woman has sought me out after hearing of my achievements. Ah, I have broken many a heart, my dear, but I vowed there was only one woman for me."
My dear? Zelda thought. She opened her mouth to respond, but Lord Dool was still talking.
"I wonder what it is that drew you to me? Was it my daring rescue of the Lady Hillia? When I stormed the Zora stronghold with only a few men at my back? Or was it when I singlehandedly slew the troublesome Mage of the Black Gate?" he slowed his pace, forcing Zelda to reduce her own stride to an uncomfortable crawl. "Perhaps it was when I fought off a band of invading Moblins?"
"How long ago was the latter?" Zelda asked, quickly as Lord Dool drew breath. "I had not heard of that particular exploit of yours." All the others, or so she had heard, were uncomfortably true.
"Ah, it was barely a fortnight ago, your Highness," Lord Dool said, patting her hand and smiling down at her. "I am not surprised you did not hear, I have tried to keep my involvement in the battle nice and quiet."
"Do tell," Zelda said, her curiosity piqued.
Lord Dool's smile broadened, and he stroked her hand as he walked. Zelda fought not to recoil from his grasp. The brisk walk had taken its toll, and his hands were moist, his skin dragging across her glove.
"Such a simple thing, I watched the Moblin horde approach, and sprung a simple, yet effective trap of my own design," he said. "A series of platforms, hidden in the grass, that flung a body into the air when stepped upon. When the Moblins were lying stunned on the ground, it was a trifling thing to slay them."
"I see," Zelda said. "Tell me, did you see the Hero of Twilight when you were commencing your spectacular plan?"
Lord Dool waved his hand carelessly. "I have never had the pleasure of meeting the man. Though I have heard tell that he is short, and has grown rather fat since his singular victory in battle against Lord Ganondorf."
Zelda stopped in her tracks, her hand slipping off Lord Dool's arm. He tripped a few steps forward, alone, and turned back to look at her, a frown knitting his brow.
"The Hero of Time is my Chosen Knight," Zelda said pleasantly. "You have been misinformed, my Lord. He is as strong and brave as ever he was. And his singular victory saved the entirety of my kingdom. Before all his other feats, of course."
Lord Dool continued to frown, an ugly shape on his mouth. He strode to her side and picked up her hand, clamping it between his arm and his side.
"It is unwise to belittle me so," he said, his voice carrying the barest hint of a threat.
"And it is unwise to lie to me," Zelda replied. "My sources tell me that the battle was won differently." She glanced behind her. Impa, Dool's footmen and his guard were trailing them a respectful distance. It was further away than she liked. Though Impa could spring a clear six metres through the air to be by her side, Zelda suddenly felt very small.
Lord Dool snorted and turned, pulling Zelda along a shaded path. The carefully planted monkshood grew at the feet of several young trees, whose boughs grew close enough together to shield them from the sun, dappled light breaking through the canopy to pattern the smooth stone with an ever-changing design. The long path led through the trees to a stone tunnel, which in turn led to the Glade of Hylia, a sacred, peaceful place.
"I do not lie, princess," Dool said. He was glaring straight ahead. "I would make you a wonderful husband." He looked down at her and smiled, his golden tooth winking. To Zelda, the smile was predatory, and his eyes strayed once again to caress her narrow hips and small breasts. She smiled coldly in return.
"Your exploits aside, I find myself wondering what you can offer the kingdom," she said. Dool's smile did not waver.
"I am the wealthiest man in Hyrule, aside from your father," he said. "I can offer you security in these… troubling times. I would imagine that the treasury has been… somewhat bare since the restoration of the kingdom began."
He turned to stare ahead, a smug smile on his face. Zelda did not miss his eyes nip to the side to catch her reaction. She kept her face impassive, though within, her stomach dropped. If Dool knew about the state of her coffers, who else knew? And how did he know?
"I am able to muster a force strong enough to rival Hyrule's own royal army," Dool continued. "I have proven myself again and again in tactics, and in battle. And I have been established to be an excellent husband." He slowed, and faced the princess, taking both her hands in his own.
"You must know I was widowed not one year ago," he said, staring deeply into her eyes. "I blessed my wife with seven strong sons, all of whom perished through various means over the years. Battle, foolishness, even a poor choice of wife has meant I no longer have a child to call my own."
"I am sorry for your loss, my Lord," Zelda said. Dool was very close, hovering half a foot above her. He smiled.
"Fortune has smiled upon me," he said. "For now, I find myself in the presence of Hyrule's most beautiful woman, the princess of all the kingdom, the descendant of the goddess, offering herself to me. I can make more sons with you when I sit the throne, strong sons to secure our legacy throughout the ages."
Zelda gazed up at Dool as he stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs.
"I do not offer myself," she said, calmly. Dool's eyes flashed, but Zelda stood firm. "I am sure you are aware that there are a great many men competing for my hand. It would be most unfair if I did not meet with all first, before I decide who would become my husband."
"You need not meet with the others," Dool said, his voice low and soothing, his tone one that a parent would use towards a difficult toddler on the verge of a tantrum. "I am the superior choice, my seed is strong. I have no more sons to contend with ours when he is born." Dool reached out a hand and patted Zelda's belly. She felt, rather than heard, Impa draw her knives, but she did not move.
"Lord Dool, I will make my choice once I have given fair judgement to all those who seek my hand," she said.
"I am sure I can convince you," he said, leaning forward. His lips came within an inch of her own before Zelda placed her hand on his chest, stepping back in one smart movement.
"You have convinced me well of your assets," she said, carefully. "It would be unbecoming of me to throw myself into your arms. I must consider the political implications of a union between us."
Dool pursed his lips, his throat glowing red. Zelda glanced away, her gaze travelling the trees, the stone path, and back up his body to his face. She felt her cheeks flush as she noticed his very obvious arousal. She took a careful step back.
"Of course," he said. "Such things are not to be rushed."
"My Lord, I have a great many things to attend to. Please be assured that you will hear from me presently."
"I would hope that it is with a proposal," Dool remarked, as Zelda made her way towards Impa. "It would be the wisest choice you could make, Princess. Considering your past decisions, perhaps you would be best suited to a man with a successful tactical history."
Zelda did not spare the lord a glance. As Impa fell into step beside her, she controlled her breathing. She maintained her composure all the way through the gardens and castle, until she reached her chambers. Inside, she ripped the purple sash from her waist and kicked the heels from her aching feet.
"What a disgusting man," she exploded, striding to her bedroom, fumbling with the fastenings of her cloak. Impa followed and dutifully helped her remove the garment.
"He was improper," Impa said. "He held no respect for you, only for himself."
"I could have his head," Zelda steamed. "Touching me like some tavern wench!"
"He is used to tavern wenches," Impa said, drily. "He claims a man has certain needs. But I would advise against beheading someone who is both a valuable ally and a man with vengeful friends."
Zelda threw herself onto her bed, burying her face in the soft blankets.
"I do not know what to do," she said, her voice muffled. "If I marry him, I will be nothing more than a figurehead, demoted to pushing out children and sitting on the throne while he makes all the decisions as king. He will not respect me, nor Hyrule." She kicked her feet. "If I refuse him, he will take great offence and may even begin a war! He said his army is as large as our own."
"It will not come to that," Impa said. Zelda felt the laces at the back of her dress being pulled, and Impa tucked her hand under Zelda's hip, and she allowed herself to be rolled onto her back.
"I do not know what to do," she said, again, as Impa tugged her sleeves, easing the dress over her hands. Bare-chested, she sat up as Impa pulled the rest of the dress away and began to fold it. "I do not want to marry that man, but politically he is the best choice. Morally, I cannot."
"Give it time, Zelda," Impa said. "You are yet to meet with the others. Perhaps one of them will prove more suitable."
Zelda ran her hands over her shoulders and across her chest. None of the nobles were who she wanted. Her mind turned to Link, his chiselled jaw, his lupine eyes. She covered her breasts, aware that her nipples were stiffening in the cooling air.
"A bath," she said. "I want to wash his stink off of me."
Impa nodded and glided silently from the room. Zelda flopped back on the bed and stared at the canopy. She would have to choose. One way or another, she must find a husband and bear a child. But no matter who she chose, she would be offending one great house or another. No matter who she chose, she would be sacrificing either her happiness, the good of the kingdom, or both.
She sighed. What would she do?