Disclaimer: I don't own Zelda, Link, Hyrule…yada yada yada… but I do own Kyanel (laughs evilly)

Zelda's Choice

The Second Event: Mistletoe Kisses and Renewed Hope

The first ball was finally finished late into the night. Drunken pairs and groups hobbled up to their assigned rooms, giggling and snorting at bawdy jokes and songs. More prudent individuals had refrained from becoming intoxicated, or at least to a certain extent. Others partied late into the morning, doing only Goddess knows what.

Zelda, however, was not apart of the drunken groups of people. She felt as if she had become numb, dead to the world. After her tears had become nonexistent, for there seemed to have been none left, she went up to her rooms, still alone.

There was no maid to undress her. She practically ripped off the gown, but the little self-control that still remained kept her from doing so. After what seemed like hours, Zelda stirred up a warm fire in the hearth, and simply sat and watched the dancing flames.

She didn't want to cry anymore. She didn't want to pity herself. But Link's face and words played over and over in her mind, because for some cruel reason they would not depart. Her heart was bruised; her usual optimism was buried for the moment. Her hope was slowly suffocating, and she did nothing to stop its eventual death.

Her hope, while still suffocating, screamed that she go find Link and explain. That all wasn't lost, that there was still a chance to redeem the situation. But while watching the orange flames dance hypnotically, Zelda fell asleep, a sleep so deep that no dreams or thoughts penetrated her mind.

It was a blissful respite.

* * * *

Days passed. Salty tears dried and were eventually stopped. Winter winds whistled through the trees, making them shake and moan. A bitter cold had descended upon the land. Dark gray clouds hovered above as if taunting the inhabitants to come out and play, and then find themselves drenched in a cold rain.

Zelda had buried everything that had happened deep inside herself. Not until everything was over, until the solstice had come would she try to right the wrongs and heal the wounds that she had inflicted. Not until then.

She found herself once again being readied for another ball. Dressed in a wispy white gown, Zelda went down to the ballroom with her father. Everyone was dressed similarly: both men and women either wore deep crimson or silvery white in commemoration of the season. Mistletoe was hung abundantly in the surrounding area.

Zelda danced with many a partner. She laughed at their silly jokes; she smiled at their wittiness. Her façade was unknown to everyone around. Her mask covered what she truly felt.

Oh, she was worried about Link, of course. She worried about what he felt, what thoughts were going through his head, whether or not he'd ever speak to her again. She also wondered what he truly felt: didn't his reaction show his love for her? Maybe. Maybe not. Many a year has been spent trying to understand the mind of men. Zelda was just as confused as every other woman on the subject, and to her dismay, Link was not at the ball to provide clarification.

But she tried her hardest to not ruin the festivities. She truly wanted to have a good time. It's such a bother being sad. What a wretched emotion.

Zelda eventually found herself at a refreshment table, sipping red wine, again. But this time was different - Kyanel stood next to her, also drinking wine.

The man was quite dashing in his ensemble: he wore a deep red jacket and white pants; both were embroidered with gold thread. His ebony hair was pulled into a slick ponytail, showing off his emerald eyes. Many a heart pitter-patted when looking at him.

"Your Highness," Kyanel said, "I must tell you once again how lovely you look tonight. That gown is a perfect color for your beautiful complexion." He smiled and toasted his wine glass to her. Sipping the burgundy liquid, he watched her with his emerald eyes.

Zelda also took a sip of her own wine. "Thank you," she replied, not blushing at his comment, surprisingly. His flirtatiousness didn't bother her anymore. Her mind was on other subjects. "You look quite dapper yourself," she added. And she wasn't lying, either.

He nodded, and then looked up at the ceiling. "Do you know how the tradition of kissing under mistletoe began?" Kyanel asked nonchalantly. Zelda shook her head, wondering where the conversation would go. "Well," he replied, his smile brilliant, "it's an ancient tradition, as I'm sure you all ready knew." He sipped a little more wine. "Long before Hyrule had a monarchy, or even was a unified country, Priestesses of the Goddess Din considered the plant capable of healing any sickness or poison. They held it in such great esteem that enemy tribes were to lay down their weapons if they found themselves under it, for mistletoe only grows on trees and has no roots planted in the ground. It eventually became a symbol of friendship, where I would assume kissing was used. And its tradition has remained ever since." He sat his wine glass down, for it was empty. Zelda watched as he came closer to her.

The Princess of Hyrule continued to watch as he slipped a hand around her waist, took her own wine glass from her, and then pointed to ceiling, grinning. "You didn't notice?" Kyanel asked, as Zelda finally saw the mistletoe that had been right above her the entire time. She sighed inwardly.

Kyanel bent his face towards her, his warm breath smelling of red wine. He kissed her tenderly, softly. Zelda stiffened slightly, although it was unnoticed by the Duke. She didn't want to kiss him. There was a golden haired man whom she wanted to kiss. A man who haunted her dreams, a man whom she loved so deeply that it was painful. Zelda only responded to Kyanel's kiss with a feeble pressure of her own. When it was over, the Duke wasn't smiling.

The look on his face was most certainly not anger, but confusion mixed with hurt. "You love him," he said simply, no accusation in his tone. It was a straightforward statement.

Zelda was beginning to tire of love and all that it entailed. Would the emotion never depart? "What do you mean?" she asked, vaguely miffed.

Kyanel sighed. "Oh, Your Highness, please do not quibble."

"Quibble? I don't understand your implication," she replied roughly.

"Truly?" he asked, watching her again. "Why do you let me kiss you when you obviously love another? Do you not wish to reveal such feelings?" He traced her cheekbone. "Do you love him?" he asked simply.

Zelda knew that he knew. That she was desperately in love with Link. How, she couldn't even fathom. "Yes," she replied slowly, her answer barely above a whisper. Why she was telling this to him, she also didn't grasp. Her mind was in a flux.

The Duke of Farthington Hills smiled feebly. "I thought as much," he replied. "Do you intend to tell him?" He never once said who "him" was.

"I…I don't know," she answered softly. "I think he hates me."

"If I am thinking of the same man as you are thinking," Kyanel said, "then I would let him know. He loves you." He poked her chest lightly to emphasize his point. "Tell him."

Zelda's thoughts were in a blur. How in Din's name did Kyanel know of anything that was going on between her and Link? Was he correct in his assumption? And why in the hell would the man care anyway? She put her head in her hands. "We'll see," she answered, not wanting to commit to any particular answer.

Kyanel held out his hand. "Good. Come dance with me." Zelda looked up and eventually accepted his hand. While dancing once more with multiple partners, Zelda thought. She thought intensely about what the Duke had said. His words inspired hope once again.

And hope can lead to many great things.