Thank you to the people who reviewed! I know the prologue was short, but I wanted to write one to give the readers an idea of what the story is going to be like. Future chapters will be longer. Nessa-Cuthalian, that's actually Zelda's normal attitude. She reckons nobody truly understands her and that nobody cares about what she really feels.

The Sound of Silence

Chapter one – Join me for breakfast

What a terrible weather! The rain is pouring down outside, running down the windows in wide streams and whipping against the steady walls of Hyrule castle. The sky is dark. I woke up later than usual today, and I still haven't figured out why nobody awoke me.

At least someone has chosen my clothes. I never get to do that myself. Appearance is an important matter. This dress looks a little too fancy to wear an early Sunday morning, but I'm not going to object. At least I like its color; it's dark green.

"Good morning, Zelda."

Impa is standing in the doorway, arms folded, a smile on her lips. I smile back.

"I'll help you get dressed." I just nod. She helps me put a corset on, then lace it up in the back. She tugs hard, too hard, but I'm used to it by now. Besides, how would you look without a corset? They are useful, at least my father says so, and I trust him. All noblewomen wear them, he says. But I know Impa laces mine too hard. I can hardly breathe.

I reach for my small pad. It's too hard.

Glancing over my shoulder, Impa replies: "It's supposed to be."

Nothing happened last night, I scribble down. I would have been just fine without your protection.

She snorts. I know she doesn't believe it. What should I do to convince her?

"Your father told me he wanted you to join him for breakfast", Impa says. "He wanted to discuss something with you."

She's finished lacing my corset now. It's too hard, but I don't want to upset her my mentioning it. Suddenly dizzy, I sit down on my bed. I can't breathe properly. I have to inhale and exhale quickly, as though I have been running. I can't get enough air into my lungs!

"Let me do your hair", Impa suggests, after I've slipped my dress on. She leads me to my lavish vanity table and lets me sit down. Glancing at the mirror, I notice my reflection is pale and tired, but I had enough sleep last night. I always sleep well… yet I look exhausted. "How would you like it today, my dear?"

I think for a moment, then smile at Impa in the mirror. Please braid it, I write for her.

She frowns. "But… your father doesn't like it that way, Zelda. To be honest, it doesn't suit you. It's so much prettier as it is…"

I observe my reflection. My hair is thick and wavy, and it reaches past my waist. People always tell me how lovely my hair color is. It has the same hue as ripe wheat.

"A bun would look lovely today", Impa suggests. I shake my head. No, I always have my hair like that. Braid it, please.

"If you wish, Princess", she sighs, grabs a comb from the table and starts combing the knots out of my hair. Then she braids it, just like I wanted to.

"It's actually cute on you", Impa admits. "Now, how would you like these?" She shows me a pair of golden earrings. They look very plain, but I agree to wear them.

Impa, is there anything special happening today?

Glancing at my writing pad, she shakes her head. "No, not that I can think of. Why do you ask?"

You are dressing me up as though I would attend to a ball or something, I write. Is this really necessary?

"Of course! You deserve the best, my dear", Impa says.

I sigh inwardly. I'm not sure if I want the best.

"There you are!" my father exclaims. "I have been waiting for you! Why, you look charming today, Zelda!"

My father leads me to the table. I respect my father in many ways. He is the King of Hyrule, and as King he is rightful, caring and a very good father. I know he loves me very much, but despite his care, I'm not content.

You see, I have never had a mother. Growing up without a mother is hard for a young girl. I had no one to cling to. And what made things even worse, was the fact that I could not speak. I was always silent. Nobody truly understood me. Nobody does, not even Impa. She is the closest thing to a mother I've ever had.

I don't know much about Impa. She is an enigmatic person, sometimes rigid and quiet, but she has a good heart and she cares about me as though I was her own daughter. I know she is of the Sheikah race. They used to inhabit Hyrule, but nowadays they are few and they have escaped to the darkest places of the country, and there is very little known about them. They have great magic abilities, and they have knowledge in music and art. Impa use to play a certain tune for me on her harp, which is one of the special instruments of the Sheikah. The music is sombre, but it can always soothe me.

"Now, my dear Zelda", my father begins, gesturing to one of the servants to bring our breakfast in, "I have something I would like to discuss with you."

What is it, father?

He smirks, as though he keeps a secret, something I do not yet know. Two of our servants, two girls about my age, curtsy and leave, having just brought our breakfast. I stare at my food, and I find my appetite has just disappeared.

"Wouldn't you try this, Zelda?" my father suggests, and passes me a plate of nicely sliced bread. "It's delicious!"

Father, what were you going to say?

Pretending not to notice my writing, my father glances at the window and the downpour. "What a horrible weather we have!" he remarks. "I cannot recall it's been raining like this since—"

I have poked him in the shoulder, and I show him my pad, which says: Don't avoid the subject.

He sighs, obviously because I spoiled the fun. "All right", he says, taking my hand, his face sincere. "As you know, my dear, you are 17 years old now, and…" He pauses dramatically. "I have decided it is time for you to get engaged."

Seeing my puzzled face, he chuckles. "I will try to find a suitable husband for you, Zelda."

Shock.

"What is the matter, dear? You are as pale as a ghost."

Nothing is the matter, father. I'm just not feeling very well.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have told you just yet." He is concerned about me now.

Suddenly upset, I scribble down: I'm not very hungry. I retire to my room. Thank you, father.

I can feel his piercing stare in my back as I leave. Hiking my skirts up, I run to my room. It's situated in the West wing, and I have to pass through uncountable staircases, corridors and halls to get there. I know the castle very well, yet I still go astray sometimes.

There it is, the door. Hand on the brass knob, I wrench it open. A maid is making my bed neatly. She jumps in fright as I open the door.

"Oh, Your Highness!" she exclaims and curtsies swiftly. "Excuse me, I'll just make the bed and leave."

I simply nod. I watch her do her chore quickly, fumbling with the delicate sheets and adjusting the pillows, and then she curtsies again and leaves. I'm all alone.

I walk to the window, and lean my elbows against the windowsill. The rain is still beating on the windows, and it sounds as though someone had been beating a giant drum. Closing my eyes, I listen to the sound. I open my eyes abruptly at the sound of thunder. My gaze wanders toward the town. I can see the entire Marketplace from up here, and I use to stand upon my balcony and watch it. On Saturdays, it's always crowded and noisy, buzzing with life, for Saturday is the Market day, when people bring their merchandise to sell it. I'm rarely in town. Father says it's a dangerous place.

Yes, the Market use to be a vivid place; yet today, it's empty. I can see the stone well in its center, as well as wooden constructions that have been booths, remains from yesterday. All people stay inside in this weather…

I feel lonely. I lean my forehead against the glass, and it feels cold against my skin. When I was younger, I would always try to speak when I was alone, because it would make me feel less lonely. Now, I try again. Taking a deep breath, I say: "I don't want to be alone."

My lips and tongue move, yet there's nothing. Not a single sound. I sigh in frustration. I try again, and again, and then a fourth time, as to force the words out of my mouth. But nothing happens.

I decide to try a last time and then quit this stupidity. I know all too well I cannot speak, so why do I keep trying? Do I wish I was able to talk so much, that I think my dream will come true if I continue?

"Now, that seems to be in vain."

A voice. But it definitely wasn't mine.