Something You Stole

by ChronicallyEclectic

Link's adventures through the Twilight realm had taught him to expect the unexpected. Unfortunately even that didn't prepare him for the shock of being accused of apparently stealing one of the Princess's most precious possessions! What did he steal? He doesn't know and she wont say. Romance/Drama/Humour. Cover image by Janus3003 on Deviantart

30. A Glass In The Face

A.N: Greetings and salutations my wonderful audience! I hope you are all doing well.

I am finally back with another chapter. As mentioned in my last author's note my health hasn't been great as of late, though it is generally better than it was. This is partially responsible for the delay in this chapter. The rest of the blame, however, rests on the fact that, not only is this the second longest chapter I've written, but it's also undergone several partial rewrites. As usual I'm still not entirely happy with the result but I'm sure many of you; being writers, artists or creatives yourselves, will know the feeling.

Anyway, please feel free to let me know what you think of this chapter. I always appreciate your feedback and support.

P.S. Thank you to all of you who wished me well in your reviews.

P.P.S. While I have read through it, it is possible, particularly given the length of the chapter and my health, I may have missed some errors. If there's an egregious number of mistakes (With the exception of Tywin's speech) which disrupt your ability to read and enjoy the chapter, please let me know in a review and I'll try and repost a corrected version.

And now without further ado, let's get on with the story.

Chapter 29 – A Glass In The Face

The Royal Box – 280 days A.G

"Absolutely not!" Lord Samuel Fairclough had his disapproving father voice on as he loomed over the pouting princess

"Oh, surely it's not that baaaad?" Zelda drawled, in a most unprincessly and childish manner.

"No!" Snapped her surrogate father sternly, before turning to her appointed guardian. "Link, perhaps you can get through to her. Please, dissuade her from this foolishness."

Zelda rolled her eyes "Link, it will all be fine."

Samuel shook his head. "Link, this is for both Zelda's safety and my family's reputation."

"I'll be perfectly safe and, with just one simple provisor, so will your reputation. Link this is our best option."

"Link?"

"Link!"

Bickering father and "daughter" rounded expectantly on the hero, both anticipating his inevitable support to tip the scales in their favour. There was just one tiny problem!

"Well, um, to be honest… I haven't a clue what you're arguing about?!..." Well, he knew the basics. Zelda had clued him in on the bare essentials of her plan but she had remained decidedly enigmatic when it came to details. All he knew for sure was that she intended to arrange a race against her suitors This race would involve "The Great Woodland Web", the mention of which was the catalyst for their current predicament. "What's wrong with The Great Woodland Web?"

"Ah, so she didn't tell you. Well, I will. The problem - as her royal stubbornness will no doubt recall me informing her yesterday - is that much of The Great Woodland Web has unfortunately been reduced to a treacherous quagmire. You see, Leguna Estate has long been famous for two things; its natural hot springs and horse racing. The original track – unlike the simple up and down we have today – used to extend across the river and then through The Great Woodland Web on the far side, back down the side of the valley, to the house. The river, however, is a tributary of the Zora Springs…" Link's heart sank. He could see where this was going. Yet another legacy of the twilight. People may not have lost their lives or livelihoods but what about the animals? Damage had still been done. Another small notch on the tally.

"… Just like in The Hinterlands, the sudden freeze and equally rapid thaw led to much of the land across the river being flooded. While most of the surface water may have drained, much of the ground, particularly along the trails closest to the river, is still waterlogged and will likely remain so, as the flood carved out fresh streams which continue to flow through many of the paths. All this has not only rendered the trails near the river a muddy bog but it has also undermined the foundations of many of the trees themselves, leading them to tilt. Between the mud, the streams and fallen or low hanging trees, most of the trails have become notorious obstacle courses, impassable for all but the most skilled of riders…" Blindsided by this fresh consequence of the twilight, gnawing at his confidence, he found himself questioning what he knew of Zelda's plan. Her playfully presented scheme had acquired a new dimension. While there was a shameful sliver of his spirit that positively revelled in the idea of Zelda's suitors receiving a mud laden dose of humility - which he strongly suspected to be the princess's main goal – his protective side was louder and far more insistent. There was also the objections of his principles of fair-play and nobility but they came a distant second to his concerns for his princess's safety. Needless to say, Fairclough's warnings appeared far from unfounded.

Zelda clearly noticed she was in danger of losing Link's support, judging by her hasty and dismissive rebuke. "Not to diminish your family's riding ability…" She scoffed airily "but given you and the girls have all braved the trail without a scratch, it can scarcely be considered that perilous."

"We weren't competing in a race and could afford caution…" Fairclough countered.

"Then I'll be cautious. Indeed, I could even take the cliffside paths, which you seem to have forgotten…"

Fairclough sighed, betraying a growing fatigue and resignation at their debate. "I haven't forgotten them, Zelda! I simply recall your reckless competitive streak, after all it wasn't just your riding prowess that won you the title at the last Great Trails Run. Given that the Cliffside paths are twice as long as those of the riverside…"

"They may be twice as long but I think I can sooth my competitive urges with the prediction that it will still be the faster route…" Zelda paused and for a moment Link had to question whether he'd glimpsed a hint of melancholy in her blue orbs. "Besides, my responsibilities demanded I mature. That day… and that me… have long passed…" The melancholia spread as, at her words, her surrogate father returned a smile tinged in its bittersweet shades. For a moment no words were shared and they simply turned their gazes to the idyllic sun kissed valley that stretched out before them. The roaring hollers of the crowd may have called to the excitement of the latest race, but their eyes instead took in the landscape. The moment was brief, yet somehow emanated a sense of longing. Was it for that long-lost past?

Then the princess cleared her throat and, in a flash, the taint vanished, covered by an abrupt jovial quip. "Ahem, annnd if nothing else reassures you; remember that I am a lady of fashion. Do you seriously think I, as such, would risk spoiling such exquisite raiment; among my favourite dresses, for the fleeting satisfaction of victory?"

Whatever the sentiment they'd silently exchanged before, just as in the carriage, Fairclough didn't see fit to acknowledge it in words. He accepted her switch with a wry chuckle and a shake of his head. "No, my dear, especially if you've learnt anything from my daughters…" His geniality was quickly replaced with sternness once more. "However, you are not the only person participating or the only one at risk…"

"Oh, do not worry about Link. He is more than capable…"

"You know perfectly well who I am referring to Zelda: your suitors who, I suspect, you would prefer to be kept in the dark."

"Absolutely not! I would not expect you to deny your duty as noble host to warn them of the danger, especially not at the potential risk of your reputation. I would simply wish for you to refrain from disclosing the specifics of what and where those dangers are. That will suffice."

"So basically, you wish for me to obfuscate."

"Precisely. After all, you do it so eloquently."

"Hmm, eloquent obfuscation? Quite the oxymoron, your highness." The blonde nobleman quipped drolly; thin lipped disapproval somewhat undermined by the seemingly irrepressible upward twitch of the corners. Just like Link, it seemed he was easily disarmed by the princess, just like most any father of any daughter. "I can't tell whether that was a compliment, my dear, or an insult."

"For you, always a compliment."

"Well, thank you for the flattery, your highness… and, believe me, I understand your resentment of your suitors, but… I cannot, in good conscience, agree to this." He put on a brave face but Link could tell the man was tragically close to breaking point.

"Very well Samuel, if that is how it must be… I had hoped it would not come to this…" with those ominous words she turned to his three daughters, all waiting expectantly, seemingly knowing what was coming, judging by the devious glints in their eyes. "Ladies… you know what to do."

The trio nodded solemnly, turned to their father and produced what surely must be the most terrifying display any father of a trio of beautiful daughters could face; a unified puppy dog pout.

Against this onslaught, the already beleaguered blonde nobleman remained admirably resolute in his convictions, raising his chin and folding his arms.

"Please Daddy." The trio whined in sickeningly sweet faux-distress.

"No" Fairclough remained adamant.

The trio closed in around him, their simpering pleas only growing in intensity. The cracks in his resolve began to show but he continued to fight. Link silently willed the man on. He still had his own misgivings about the plan but, as cowardly as it sounded, he'd much prefer Fairclough to be the one voicing them and facing Zelda's "wrath". He was certain, had he faced such an attack, his composure and will to fight would have crumbled far quicker – blamed on his heart's particularly egregious weakness for the whims of a certain beautiful princess. As he watched Fairclough's torture, it became apparent that such hopes of him averting Zelda's scheme were for naught. The nobleman's surrender was inevitable and within a minute of his daughters' "vicious" betrayal, the white flag was waved. "Alright, alright. Mercy! I submit!" He turned to Zelda. "Using my little angels against me…"

"Daaaddd, we're not little." Tasmin whined in feigned embarrassment.

"It is truly a ruthless tactic… but a guaranteed success. I will set up the race as you wish, however, if I may be so bold… "

"Why, of course you may." The princess's poised smile subtly widened.

"I believe your highness has failed to take into account one key factor in her plan."

Zelda raised a curious eyebrow "Really? Enlighten me."

Fairclough's answer was blunt. "You underestimate the caution of some of your suitors."

This did little to phase her "Maybe, but I believe their competing egos will redress the balance." She countered placidly.

With this final shot the battle was well and truly over and the noble let out a defeated sigh. "Ok my dear. I still have to say I personally have my doubts…" He gave her a look that warned loud and clear of the dreaded phrase "I told you so" being uttered. "… but I will see it is done." He bowed and turned to leave.

"Oh Daddy, before you go…" Terra accosted him with saccharine sweetness. "who would you say will be the greatest challenge, race wise? I mean, we all know first and second place but who will be third?"

Fairclough smirked "How much is in it?"

"Daddy, what are you suggesting?!" Tasmin gasped "indignantly".

It wasn't convincing anyone. Her father tutted in amusement. "My Darlings, you may be my Little Angels but that doesn't make me oblivious. We've played this game too many times. Now, how much?"

"Two hundred rupees." Terra replied plainly.

"Very well, you're on." he agreed and then without a second's consideration he immediately jumped in with absolute confidence. "I call Atherton!"

Atherton?! Really?! After his display in the stables, completely failing to read a horse in distress he would have put him last! After all, to ride a horse well you must be able to understand them.

And yet Terra was prepared to fight over him. "No way, I've already picked Atherton."

"So?! You never established that we couldn't bet on the same suitor. Besides, Atherton is the obvious choice."

Obvious choice? Was he missing something? "Sorry. We are talking about Atherton Herkle, right?" he asked, letting his incredulity speak for itself

Lord Fairclough nodded.

"Really? Seemed like an arrogant idiot to me."

"Ah, well he certainly is arrogant but he's no fool. At times, he may appear oblivious but scratching the surface will reveal it as a veil for duplicitousness or cruelty. A callous and calculating man but also indisputably one of the most capable equestrians in the court."

Tamara, usually so buoyant and positive, gave an uncharacteristic snort of passionate disgust "Hmph! That man is a blight to the title equestrian. He's a brute! A barbarian!"

"Darling, I'm sorry. I agree absolutely. No equestrian with an ounce of decency would consider him among their ranks. Unfortunately, decency is not a concern of most of the court and, for all his brutal methods, the results… are undeniable."

As Father and daughter entered a length debate over animal cruelty, Link's attentions turned inwards in contemplation of this unexpected revelation. If what they'd said was true, it put a new and troubling complexion on Atherton's actions at the stables. If his obliviousness was as phoney as his friendliness then that led to one inescapable conclusion; his supposedly "accidental" startling of Guy was just the opposite; a deliberate attack! The question was why? What could the bastard gain from tormenting a horse?

The cruelty mentioned by Tamara pointed to a sadistic streak. Could Atherton's abuse simply have been a sly attempt to sate it? Possibly, but if the man was as calculating as Samuel claimed, would he risk alienating a potential asset for such a momentary satisfaction? Unlikely. No, had to be more to it.

Perhaps… perhaps if Atherton had expected to race against him… then unnerving his horse would certainly be a way to tip the scales in the bastard's favour. After all he'd learnt about the man, cheating wouldn't be surprising.

There was however, a third and far more concerning possibility. Atherton had triggered Guy's bucking sprees twice and both events had one other thing in common: a rival – or rivals – in the line of fire, while Atherton was safely out of the way.

A horse kick wasn't a trifle; guaranteed broken bones at the very least. Tywin could have ended up unconscious or worse… dead and, in the privacy of the stables, there would only be two witnesses to the "accident". Link felt a slight chill run up his spine at the disturbing realisation. Atherton may have been close to "killing" two birds with one stone. If the dastardly noble had pinned it on him – the death or crippling of a prominent foreign dignitary – he doubted even Zelda would be able to defend him from the consequences. At best, it would have cost him his position… at worst, his freedom… possibly his life…

"But what is life worth without her?" came a whisper from the depths. it need not announce it's identity. The melodramatic drivel gave it away.

Oh, shut up heart! Of course he had more reasons to live than her!

Besides, everything he'd just theorised could be just that… pure conjecture. nothing to get worked up about. Still… what would he do without her?... No, no… his duty to her? He wasn't some lost pup, pining after her, lost and helpless for anything else! Pull yourself together man!

A hand rested gently on his shoulder. "Link?" came a soft sympathetic whisper.

He jolted back, Zelda's familiar lightning coursing through him. He startled his eyes awake with a whipping motion so fierce he half expected them to get dizzy as they swivelled round to the princess, who was gazing back at him with pensive concern. Just how many times had he zoned out on her recently? She must think he was losing his mind. Aware that the Fairclough family were all still otherwise engaged, he answered with a quiet murmur. "Sorry Zelda, I'm fine. Just got lost in thought… did you ask me something?"

"No… I was merely concerned for a friend." came her hesitant hushed reply. He guessed she wished to dig deeper but held her tongue only for the understanding that now wasn't the time for mental excavations. Then she seemingly had an epiphany. "Ah, is this about the plan? Still having second thoughts?"

Well yes, he was, but that wasn't responsible for his catatonic state. It did provide the perfect alibi though and the concerns were still there. Even if he could guarantee her safety, that still left her suitors at risk and regardless of how unpleasant they may be, did they really deserve this? The potential dangers and resulting injuries from horse riding, whatever the terrain, were not to be taken lightly. His principles told him it wasn't worth it.

There was however another voice… "Oh, come on! Not an hour ago, you were comparing them to leeches. One's a vile control freak, who tried to make you promise to get his permission to so much as help Zelda down from her carriage. Another is a scheming malicious bastard and confirmed horse abuser, who, not a moment ago you were theorising as actively plotting to stitch you up with the maiming or murder of his rival!" It had a point… and it certainly wasn't jealousy! No, absolutely not!

Was it the beast? Such thoughts certainly inspired a guttural growl from his core… and yet it felt… different to any of the beast's confirmed manifestations, not enough to completely disregard its involvement but enough to ensure scepticism. It hadn't teamed up with jealousy though! Definitely not!

On the topic of scepticism, this voice – his heart, jealousy or the beast, he didn't know – had, for all its convincing argument, failed to fully allay his concerns. He couldn't quite bring himself to tar ever suitor with the same brush as Atherton or Tywin. And, if nothing else, there were the horses to consider. They were innocent in all this. What if one of them got injured?

"Hmm?" Zelda's inquiring hum reminded him he still owed her an answer, as did her expectant gaze. The fact remained though; he was still conflicted. Surely, he should voice his… concerns…

"I had my doubts princess but not anymore." The words spilled from his lips before he'd even agreed to them. They earned him a smile that his heart naturally went crazy for, while his head silently berated it. Had the princess been employing a subtler, slyer rendition of puppy dog eyes or was he really just that weak to her influence? Either way, it would seem he'd unwittingly committed himself to the plan.

"Well, that is most gratifying to hear, however…" Zelda quirked a brow "I must say Link, if you get any more lost in your own head, I fear I will have to send out a search party to retrieve you." The words were clearly in jest yet there seemed to be a tinge of genuine concern behind them. They were also meant for him alone yet the cough from a certain father figure let them both know their privacy had expired.

"You may consider it gratifying my dear, but I'd been holding out hope that Sir Link might be able to save you from your madness."

"Madness?!" the princess tittered softly. "I can assure you, I am anything but mad, and, if I am wrong, then it can only be my suitors who are drove me to it. It seems only fair that I return the favour."

"I thought you wanted to be the benevolent princess?" Fairclough quipped wryly.

"With my subjects, yes. With my suitors, they have to earn it and, as yet, they have failed spectacularly."

"Very well, my dear. I will arrange your righteous revenge forthwith." Fairclough bowed once more, bid them all a theatrical farewell and finally slipped from the Royal Box.

Zelda smirked and rolled her eyes, turning back to Link with a palpable sense of excitement. "Well, my loyal hero. Are you prepared?"

"Um, as much as I can be when I don't know half the plan."

"Oh, it is quite simple really. You will accompany me to the refreshment tent, where we will no doubt be mobbed by my suitors. I will then persuade all of them to take part in our special race. You need not feel obligated to assist me in that endeavour, as I imagine it should be remarkably easy to play their rivalries against each other. Your job will come later and is incredibly simple; ensure that none of them are the victor."

"I thought you'd say to win the race?"

"Are you doubting my riding prowess, Hero?!"

"Er, no, I just thought you were taking the long route."

The princess's eyes gleamed and for a moment he swore he caught shades of Midna in them. "Oh, I am but that does not mean I do not intend to compete."

"Zelda?!" he snapped in exasperation

"Please Link, I can handle myself and I promise I will be careful."

Ugh, fine! He knew better than to debate her. He released a defeated groan and nodded.

"Very good. Now, shall we go?"

"Yes."

She turned to her ladies-in-waiting. "Ladies, will you be joining us?"

Tamara shook her head. "Apologies your highness, but I can't stand to be in Atherton's presence. I fear my attendance would only prove a hinderance."

"No apology needed. I understand perfectly."

"May I be excused?"

"Of course. Where will you go?"

"Oh, probably the library."

"Oh, the Library" Link noted absentmindedly. It was hardly surprising. Well, that would be one less to tease… him at least. Then came the horrifying realisation.

Shad was in the library, desperately trying to escape so much as the mere thought of her and her ruby red lips – which today matched the colour of her dress! The colour reminded him of another pair of lips and… steam; a lot of steam… Ok, now was the worst of times to bring that up again. He barely suppressed another burning blush that, in a conversation like this, could have proved fatally misleading.

He had to stop Tamara! But how?

"The library!" He blurted without thought or preparation, his attempt to conceal his desperation coming across instead as incredulity.

Tamara was momentarily perplexed, hardly surprising given his oddly derisive tone. "You object to a well-read Lady, Link? I never took you for the sort."

"No, it's not that. It's just… um, it's just… this great weather. Surely you'd rather enjoy the sunshine than be holed up in the library." Wow, a surprisingly solid argument he'd managed to pluck from the air… or so he thought.

The peppy saw a fatal flaw she was only too eager to point out. "Whoever said I need stay "holed up" in the library. That's the joy of books; once picked you can take them anywhere. Once the peak light has softened, I'll probably take my choice to the terrace."

Bugger! Quick, think of something else. Shad's Sanity depends on it! "Well, um, er surely you want to see who wins the race… for your bet."

"I'll be able to see that from the library window. Besides I didn't bet anyway and I never will on any race that Atherton's a part of."

"Oh… well… um…" Come on! There's got to be more…

"hmm…" Tamara's eyes narrowed suspiciously "What possible reason could you have for dissuading me from the library… unless…" Then came the light of discovery and her eyes were suddenly flung wide with almost breathless exhilaration. Oh no! "He's there, isn't he?"

Link's mouth remained closed but his mortified expression was all the answer required to seal his scholarly friend's ignominious fate.

The blonde beauty who would inevitably supply that fate clutched her cheeks and released a girlish squeak of giddy excitement, followed be a bout of almost feverish hand waving. Even though the hero's heart was besotted with another, it couldn't deny that such a display was devastatingly adorable.

Then came something he didn't expect.

Tamara, still feverish, whipped round to her sisters, all the while frantically brushing her golden locks. "How's my makeup? Is my hair straight? My lipstick?" Hang on. Was she nervous?!

"You're fine. You look gorgeous." Tamsin reassured her.

"Yeah Sis. He wont know what hit him. Now go get him." Terra encouraged.

"Thanks girls. Wish me luck!" With that, she turned and bolted for the exit, seemingly having completely forgotten his and the princess's presence. Then just as she reached the curtain she careened to an ungainly stop and whirled to face them. "Sir Link… Your Highness…" She curtseyed awkwardly, her cheeks a rare shade of rouge.

"Good Luck Tamara." Damn it. Even Zelda was encouraging her!

The blonde beauty beamed and promptly shot through the curtain and practically flew down the steps, her vivid crimson skirts and golden tresses billowing and shimmering in the sun. Link watched her unfettered flight with a mix of awe and something approaching... oh no, it couldn't be?!

"Shad sure is a lucky guy." Oh, shut it heart! He didn't envy Shad in the slightest. The man would soon be experiencing unfathomable torment, melting his brain and robbing him of self-respect and what's worse… he'd probably enjoy it! That lucky, No! No! poor man.

"Your tune wouldn't be so dour if it were Zelda rushing to you with such passion!" his heart promptly countered.

Bah, as if Zelda would ever be so unreserved in her passions, let alone he ever be the object of said passion.

A sudden commotion averted another rumination session. With abrupt alarm, Terra called out to the receding red and gold butterfly that was her youngest sister "Wait Tami, what about…" she started but it was immediately obvious her calls were in vain. She grabbed Tamsin by the arm. "Come on Sis, looks like we'll have to cover her escape." Tamsin nodded in understanding, an understanding not shared by Link, who could only watch in puzzlement as the two ladies seemingly prepared for a racing start. Cover her escape?! What'd they mean by that?

The duo whirled to Zelda. "Your Highness. May we…"

Clearly her highness shared their little understanding because she didn't need them to finish the question. "Of course. Go on. Save your sister."

They exchanged hasty curtseys and then the duo shot off, like vibrant multicoloured fireworks, after their oblivious sibling. But oblivious to what? What were they trying to save her from?

"Link, you seem… puzzled?" Of course she'd notice his bemusement – particularly when her gleaming blue orbs peered so intently at him like that.

He suppressed the nth blush of the hour and fumbled "Er, yeah, ummmm… what just happened?"

In reply Zelda merely directed a gloved finger for his gaze to follow. First her white clad digit descended to Tamara, who had reached the ground and was now practically dancing along the front of the stands, capturing the attention – and likely the hearts too – of many among the audience, as she swirled on by in a world of her own. Then the royal digit swung upwards to the noble boxes and he was momentarily stumped on what he was supposed to be watching for. It became clear though when, with varying degrees of urgency, five noblemen, ranging in age from young enough to be ineligible to carry a sword to too old to wield one, rose from their seats and descended the steps, converging on their daydreaming target, marked by their fixed gazes. Some seemed mercifully benign considering their clear objective, while others oozed such predatory intent Link couldn't restrain a shudder of disgust.

"Suitors?" He muttered.

He sensed Zelda's nod.

He continued to watch this disturbing display with a growing sense of foreboding and concern for the carefree lady's safety. The suitors closing in on her reminded him, far more than it should, of a wolf pack stalking their prey. Fortunately for their prey however, she had two sisters who were clearly well trained in protecting her; timing their intervention perfectly to "accidentally" intercept her pursuers just as they reached the foot of the stairs.

Perhaps that was the reason they tended to stay as a trio most of the time: safety in numbers. Well, he was glad she had her sisters to protect her from her suitors… but who would protect Shad from them?!

Before he could dwell on that troubling thought, he was accosted his princess's voice, beckoning him, with prim propriety, back to the moment at hand. "hmm, looks like they have the situation under control. So, Link, do you feel prepared for my suitors?"

"As ready as I'll ever be…" he muttered drolly. "though…" he added with a wry smile "… to be honest Zelda, I'd be more comfortable if I had my sword on me."

"Oh relax, my overzealous hero. Many may be cantankerous, arrogant, insensitive boors but they are not that bad."

"If you say so princess."

"Oh, I do say so! Do not worry. I know how to handle them. Now, you know the plan. I will deal with the incitement. You just need to "dispose" of the opponents, in a discrete and civilised manner, of course. We would not want them accusing such an unimpeachable gentleman as yourself of *gasp* foul play, would we Link?" Her prim princess veil was untarnished and yet it didn't take wolf senses to tell a devilish smirk lay beneath.

"Of course not, princess." He replied in a low rumble, having to restrain a smirk of his own. Damn it! He didn't even fully agree with this plan and yet that unseen yet perceived smirk was enough to get him giddy with excitement.

"Very good. Now, ready to set the wheels in motion?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. Now royal shield. Will you please escort me to the comestibles marquee forthwith?"

Comestibles marquee?! Only nobility could be so pretentious in naming a food tent. Nevertheless, with her comically concise cut-glass accent, it was hard to resist a goofy grin and he acquiesced to the princess's request. Ha! He could use long words too. Just one of the cornucopia of new words he'd picked up from his exposure to the court. True, he never actually used them – he'd probably get tongue tied if he tried – but in his head…

His brief smug pride immediately deserted him when Zelda gracefully presented her arm to him, as though he were a suitor. Don't blush! Don't blush! It seemed his tongue didn't require long words to perform perfect sailor's knots. "Err, I would be , delighted your highness but um, are you sure that, um, you know, taking your arm would be appropriate."

"Ah yes, you are quite right. Apologies, force of habit." Her reply was nonchalant, however… was there a hint of… no, just his heart and imagination playing tricks on him.

Desperate to distract himself and recover some level of composure and self-respect, he, did the most gentlemanly thing he could think of; generously holding the curtain of the royal box and smooth gesturing "ladies first" with a sweeping arm.

This earned him a quirked eyebrow from the prim princess, before she graciously accepted his chivalrous display, exiting her royal fortress with her usual effortless floating gait.

It was only as he let the curtain fall and turned to join her that the full reality of the situation hit him and he hesitated. He was about to walk out in front of a passionate crowd of people; from peasants to foreign princes, side-by-side with the princess. Side-by-side meant equality! How would people – especially foreign princes – react to him, a lowly goatherder standing equal with the sovereign of the kingdom? Ok, he was the Royal Shield… and chosen hero of the goddesses… but still, half the nobility didn't accept those titles! And then there was all those whimsically-minded folk who seemed to believe there was "something" going on between them. This was bound to get them all worked up. Great, more rumours! Just what he needed. Perhaps he could walk slightly behind her? One glance to her visage answered that question.

Well then, time to summon the courage he was famous for – and what little composure Zelda's lessons had managed to instil in him – and face what the princess referred to as "the fickle eye of the public".

He assumed his position at her side and in response, clearly sensing his unease, she gave him a small reassuring smile. It was simultaneously what he needed and yet cause for extra embarrassment. He was the hero after all. Surely, he shouldn't need such things simply to perform such a "mundane" duty?

Nevertheless, he wrestled such thoughts to the back of his mind as they began their steady, dignified descent in silence. His eyes darting to-and-fro among the crowd, both to search for any potential danger and to distract himself from Zelda's presence, he soon found his gaze being returned by a growing number of excited eyes and as they neared the bottom, many of the eyes' owners brought their hands together in applause. It was not the wild celebration that had marked his initial arrival but instead a reverent rustle through the ranks of the spectators. He was momentarily taken aback by the uncharacteristically reserved display, wondering whether it reflected a distaste for princess Zelda. Seeing the crowd genuine beaming however, brought a different revelation. Their restraint wasn't a reflection of animosity or dislike on their part but rather a reflection on how they saw her; composed, respectful and almost painfully reserved.

Having been gifted with many fleeting but meaningful glimpses behind this public persona, such of view of her almost amused him. It was true that she rarely dropped her princess veil fully enough to refute such an impression, at least to the unobservant. To those versed in the subtleties of her features however – of which he could shamefully consider himself a connoisseur – she let slip sufficient clues to debunk any assertions of emotional frigidity.

The decision to wave to the crowd – in Link's case, bashfully; in Zelda's, with serene stateliness – was arrived at in perfect synchronicity as they approached the last step and the threshold of the lush green lawn. On reaching ground the princess promptly turned left and, following her lead, he spied the marquee; a large tent, glinting a pristine white in the sunshine, just beyond the stands end, on the race track's opposite bank. It was good they chose a break in the race schedule, he noted. With their destination now marked he resumed their wordlessly agreed upon tactic of smile-and-wave.

Soon movement tugged his gaze from the reverent ovation of packed crowd to the nobles above. Just as Tamara's escape had triggered before, Zelda's appearance prompted a sudden exodus of the high-born gentry from their gilded perches. This one, unlike the scramble incited by the sight of the scarlet butterfly's flight, was a far more sedate affair but provided arguably greater apprehension due to the sheer throng of participants.

"Gee, Zelda, How many suitors do you have?!" He blurted in consternation, unwittingly quickening his steps in alarm at the veritable swarm now bearing down upon them.

Zelda simply tittered with amusement. "My, Hero, such "panic" at the mere sight of my entourage? I must have been overzealous with my warnings. Do not worry. Only half are my suitors. The rest are servants of said suitors or the standard selection of sycophants cloying for my favour."

"Half! Well, that still makes, what, sixteen…"

"Fourteen" She corrected nonchalantly, as though fourteen was a perfectly sensible number. "And we need only concern ourselves with eleven of them."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"Because Lords Bagshaw and Hoffenheim are too old to follow me anywhere and Sir Colbert's heart lies elsewhere."

"What?! But then why become your suitor?"

"Because his parents wished it. The prestige gained by their son's betrothal to a princess is worth far more their son's happiness. It is a similar story with most of my suitors however the essential difference is that most are just as ambitious as their parents."

Ambition?! But what of love?!

Link found himself struck by perplexing ambivalence. On the one hand he knew he'd hate the idea of those disgusting suitors loving his fair princess, and yet, the thought of any sane man not loving her was a notion as inconceivable to him as it was repugnant. How could these fools take such a sacred opportunity as her delicate hand in marriage and trivialise it to some petty political power play? Had they no soul?

With his brain occupied with such outrage, his ever-present – and always meddling – heart decided to borrow his mouth to blurt stupidly. "But surely, what about love?"

Zelda gave a derisive scoff. "Love?! Love is a rare luxury in royal engagements. I'm sure several of my suitors are honest when they profess their feelings of love, in their own ways. I simply believe they are deluded in precisely what they are in love with: their idealised vision of me or simply the thought of owning me…" Owning her! He couldn't help but bristle at the thought. His bristling was given no time to develop however as he immediately distracted by the princess's eyes: peering at him with intense curiosity, and, in the back of his mind, the faint peeling of an alarm bell.

"Colour me curious Link, but was there any particular reason love was on your mind?"

Errrrrrr! Link's mouth lolled open but no sound escaped. He simply stared gormlessly at her. How could he possibly answer such a question, at least in any way that didn't expose his heart or at the very least raise suspicions in the perceptive princess?

He fought valiantly to string together a sensible reply but his brain refused to give the problem its full attention, instead fixating on this vague alarm bell. If the alarm bell hadn't been intuition pre-emptively warning him of the impending question he was now facing; what was it for and why did it feel the need to distract him at such a crucial moment?! His reputation was at stake… perhaps even his friendship with Zelda!

What could be so…

Hang on! His sensitive nose had picked up…

What in Hyrule could set his nostrils so aquiver…

"Link?"

Sorry Zelda. My alibi's still cooking and I'm currently smelling…

…

SHIT!

Horse shit to be precise, right in the princess's path!

With no time to think and acting purely on instinct, he snatched her hand and tugged hard. Zelda, unaccustomed to being abruptly yanked – as though she were a stiff bell rope or stubborn door – promptly staggered sideways. With their entwined hands as the hinge and the hero's body as the frame – bricked up solid by incompetent builders – the princess, still off balance, aptly completed the door metaphor by gracelessly swinging round to meet him. The only thing that saved Zelda's prominent front panels from collision with Link's robust brickwork was the delicate hand she shot forth to steady herself against it.

The touch was soft yet its mere existence was enough to rob the hero's lungs of air. It had the opposite effect on their audience however; as several hundred peasants, servants, lords and ladies shared a brief moment of unity, inhaling loudly in almost miraculous synchronicity.

Then came frozen silence.

Link stared at Zelda; Zelda gazed, moon-eyed, back at him and what seemed like a million eyes gawked in anxious expectation from above. Link's face burned from his chin to the tips of his ears. Zelda's cheeks undeniably glowed and her lips were parted in breathless shock. Wolf senses keenly caught the frantic beating of their hearts and the stench of the obstacle responsible for their current closeness was quickly forgotten in the wake of his princess's perfume.

For a fleeting instant, time seemed to forget it's job in the world. Link's head wished it would hurry up remembering it. His heart wished it never would. How his heart could see anything remotely romantic in this painfully public catastrophe he couldn't fathom… though her lips…

The spell, and time's momentary amnesia, were broken by the most mortifyingly inappropriate of noises to hear in such a situation. From within the ranks of the stunned crowd there emanated a solitary sound from a solitary pair of pursed lips; shrill, piercing and delivered with terrifying enthusiasm.

Fweet-fwooo!

A wolf-whistle!

Hero and princess leapt apart, their separation the freshly popped champagne cork which finally unleashed the fizzing crowd's fountain of sensational and lurid babble spewing into the hot early-afternoon air.

Over the cacophony Link hastily attempted an apology, though he started off with an impression of creaking floorboards "A… . .a.a.a.a…apologies your highness. It's just, you were about to step in, um, well, horse cra… I mean horse manure and, well, there wasn't time to warn you. It's…"

Zelda cut him off, yet in a rare and shocking turn she proved just as flustered and tongue tied as he was – if not more so. "Oh, um, please don't, um, oh *ahem* apologise. I perfectly understand and, um… er, I thank you for your diligence, dear hero." She couldn't even look at him as she mumbled, and he almost had to strain his ears to hear her over the crowd's raucous babble. "Now let us… let us go!" She barked suddenly in apparent protest.

Link's eyes immediately darted to their hands. He was sure he'd already let go of her…

Zelda gulped and took a moment to recover her decorum before clarifying "Ahem, Link, I'd… I'd much prefer the privacy of the marquee to this public spectacle, so please…" her voice started out dignified and worryingly curt but by the time she trailed off, she was practically imploring.

It still took a moment for him to catch her drift, while he continued to blush like a gormless moron. Ooooh, she meant "let's go." What a slow idiot he'd become! "Ah, um, of course, your highness!" He blurted stupidly.

They set off once more towards the glistening white tent and while it was clear Zelda was attempting to maintain a "proper and regal" pace, it was hard to miss her waves of sudden acceleration followed in short order by her equally abrupt slow-downs. She refused to look at him and his glances her way revealed an enigmatic visage. If he was feeling particularly confident in his ability to read her, he would say she betrayed slight annoyance in her brows, but frankly, that was just speculation.

Nevertheless, as their journey continued without a single sentence or mutual glance being exchanged, he couldn't help but think his speculation was right. Was she upset? Embarrassed? Mad? While his mind tried to answer that important question, his heart – grossly overdramatic as always – was already busy planning the eulogy for their fateful friendship.

The eulogy scarcely got more than a paragraph however before they entered the shade of the tent and were immediately accosted by two maids, who brandished bowls of water at them and then waiting expectantly for them to do… something? - certainly something more than staring blankly at them.

Errrrrr…

"For hand washing." Zelda explained, her words again possessing worrying curtness.

"Oh, um… handy…" He replied awkwardly.

Whether she picked up on his discomfort or was simply recovering her compose, the princess mustered a prim smile and held up her gloved hands. "In my case, however, such a service could prove counterproductive." The quip was obvious, though the delivery could have used work. She then turned to the maid – who looked ready to break out into profuse apologies – and pre-emptively laid them to rest with a wave and a nod. "Please, do not apologise. Your fervour is admirable and your consideration appreciated. I am simply not in a position to accept your services at present."

"Oh, of course, your highness." The maid replied meekly, shot a sideways glance to the hero, bit her lip, curtseyed rather haphazardly and promptly fled to a far corner of the tent, spilling drops of water all the way.

The other maid seemed to have no trouble looking at the hero. Indeed, she'd been utterly fixated on him since his arrival. Even without sparing a direct look, he could practically see the stars in her eyes and the tempestuous waves swishing within her reverently offered bowl gave away trembles of excitement.

With the brief exchange between the princess and the other maid concluded, the only possible excuse for ignoring this young woman's "fascination" was tragically relinquished. He dipped his hands in the bowl, hoping a few swishes and a bashful "Thank you" would appease her and send her scurrying away like her shy friend.

Unfortunately, meekness was clearly not in her nature. She beamed… and promptly started gushing like a bubbling spring. "Oh please, you're the one who deserves thanks, great 'ero. To meet you, in person, I mean wow! It's such an 'onour. Truly. I've 'eard all the bard's tales 'bout you. You were so so brave…"

Faced with such excessive and unwarranted praise, Link fought to stem the tide, stammering "Oh, I'm flattered, um, but there's no need for that, ahem, I was… I was just doing my duty."

"My, such modesty from a man not only brave, but 'andsome too…" The maid purred in a manner that would have made even the Three T's blush. Link, however was rather more taken aback when her bubbly flirtation was abruptly replaced by solemn admiration. "Truly though Sir Link – er, may I call you Sir Link? – truly there are no words I could say to adequately express my thanks for everything you did – Your Highness as well! Through savin' the kin'dom you saved us all. far more directly though – and given the magnitude of your adventures, to you, this must have been a triflin' event compared to many but… – you saved my sister from one of those… thin's… those shadow beasts… I and my family owe you everythin'…" Such sincere gratitude and admiration, lavished so generously upon him without inhibition, proved utterly disconcerting. A rare and precious swell of pride was swiftly assaulted by self-doubt. This battle was quickly called to a ceasefire, however, by a hefty dose of shock, courtesy of the maid's brazen finale and farewell.

"if not for this bowl, Sir Link, I'd give you a 'ug… 'owever, there's another reward I can still give you." She was purring again and he was unprepared – particularly for what came next.

In a flash, she danced round his forward defences and planted a kiss on his cheek punctuated with a resounding MWAH! "My name's Leeta, by the way. Pop by the kitchens sometime." Invitation delivered, she curtseyed and in a flurry of skirts and light giggles she flew away to join her coy colleague in the corner, leaving a similar trail of water in her wake.

Well… um, that was unexpected. His response of burning cheeks and internal ambivalence, however, was hardly surprising. He rubbed his neck awkwardly and glanced to Zelda in the hopes her appearance alone may offer some form of reassurance or clarity.

Any such hopes were immediately dashed by enigmatic propriety, tainted – his intuition claimed – by the trace of a scowl. Was she still upset?

"Come, Sir Link, we must prepare for battle." Her order, curt and crisp, would seem to indicate so. The use of his title also wasn't a good sign either.

They silently crossed the tent, stopping at the corner of one of three bountifully laden buffet tables, the delicious contents of which would have earned his perusing peepers, if not for his concern over the state of the princess.

He was busy formulating a means of bringing it up when he received another curt order. "Now, I need a moment to arrange myself so please, bring me a drink. Nothing fancy. Just a… just a… water or juice of apple or, um…"

With her uncharacteristic stumbles spurring him on, he decided to be blunt in his interruption. "Ahem, forgive me for interrupting, your highness but I must know… have I upset you?"

"What?!" Zelda exclaimed in shock, seemingly flabbergasted by either the question or, at the very least, it's directness. After the most improper outburst which drew the eyes of every servant in the tent, she hastily attempted to recover her composure. "Oh no, no, no, I'm not upset Link. It's just our little incident earlier left me a little, ahem, a little flustered. Not that it is in any way your fault, Link. No, please do not think that. I simply need a moment to… to…"

"Arrange yourself?" he offered.

"Yes, precisely." Zelda nodded, her composure seeping back into her, just as her visage returned to it's usual alabaster with delicate rouge highlights. She let out a sigh and a cough to clear the air of awkwardness. "While I am accustomed to being rescued, I generally expect a fanfare to announce it…" Her jest may have lacked her usual flawless delivery but Link still gave a mild chuckle anyway to ease the tension that still dogged her. It worked and her taut brows softened. She even recovered her subtle yet genuine princess smile. "… Anyway, with the inevitable prospect approaching, arguably worse than the horse manure you saved me from, I'd like a drink please. I would prefer wine for such company but, what with certain plans in place, I think it wise to maintain sobriety. Don't you agree?"

"Certainly safer, Your Highness. Horse riding tipsy ain't something I'd recommend." He'd seen the results of such foolishness when cooped up in the infirmary. It wasn't pretty.

"Indeed. So, Dear Hero, please fetch me a glass of liquid refreshment. Excluding alcohol, I leave the choice in your capable hands."

Link nodded "as you wish, princess" and set off on his quest for refreshments: rather mundane as quests go but thankfully so as he had much to think about. Zelda hadn't been entirely honest with him as to the causes of her "distress" and while his respect for her and their friendship precluded prying, curiosity compelled speculation regardless. There were also his recurring concerns about her plan, revived afresh, entirely unwittingly, by her jibe about sobriety. Whether drunk or sober, horse riding carried inherent risks for both horse and rider, and with what they were planning, the risks of injury would be significantly increased. As insufferable as her suitors were, did they really deserve the potential consequences? And their horses were entirely innocent! What about them?

He found the drinks table and, mind still elsewhere, engaged in a virtually monosyllabic conversation with its current custodian – the shy maid who'd presented Zelda's wash bowl – quizzing her on the wide array of bottles and jugs containing liquids of numerous hues and consistencies. Some appeared far more appealing than others – though he was assured, most insistently, all tasted equally exquisite. He'd have to take her word for it.

Plumping for something simple; a cloudy amber apple juice for both of them, the glasses were filled just as the first suitors swaggered into the spacious marquee and immediately beelined for the princess. Refreshment clearly wasn't why they came.

No time to waste! He dashed back towards her, hoping to beat the flood but was intercepted by the most unwelcome of company. "Sir Link, ahem, a weird, if I may?" Oh great, the walking paintbox explosion wanted a word and seemed rather less jovial than usual.

"Another time, Sir Tywin, I have duties to perform." Link replied, attempting to bury annoyance beneath polite briskness as he swerved round him without breaking stride.

His progress was halted by a hand seizing his arm. "Not so fast, Sir Link. Do you forget proprety? Are you a gentleman or not?"

"Excuse me?!"

"It is rude to dismess a fellow gentleman's presence… and a gentleman keeps his promises."

Link Bristled, knowing all too well what the duke was saying. Nevertheless, he deigned to play dumb; partly to spite the man, partly to maintain some semblance of politeness. "Yes? Are you suggesting I broke one?"

"You touched the princess without my permission." Tywin stated, so coolly, so matter-of-factly, Link had to resist clenching his teeth in the face of such casual possessiveness. He wouldn't have bothered fighting it, if it weren't for the throng of nobles milling around them in multiple swirling shoals, one of which had swallowed up Zelda. Fortunately, the babble they emitted provided a valuable cover for their very public conflict.

"Correction, I saved her from the embarrassment of stepping in sh… manure" Link replied tersely.

"Hardly avoiding embarrassment, when your "rescue" leads to such a public spectacle."

"Oh, and what should I have done instead?!"

"Simple, you should have warned her."

It was no good resisting any more. Teeth clenched ominously but he still kept his voice low. "By the time I saw it, it was too late for that." he hissed.

"Really, well then perhaps my beloved was misgoaded in assigning you as her protector if he is so neglectful as to miss such a blitant danger."

Link's stomach growled and it wasn't out of hunger. "I'm looking out for assassins, not horse crap!..." He bit back an acerbic slight along the lines of 'it takes one shit to spot another'. "Besides, I was being attentive to her highness's conversation."

"hmm, perhaps then, you should act more as of your station and not engage her in such things."

"She engaged me!" The hero snarled through gritted teeth, his hands starting to shake.

"Well then, she clearly requires further guidance on appropriate assausagations…" The duke stated, as though he were discussing a misbehaving pet. Link's temples throbbed. Further guidance!? Appropriate associations! A red mist was creeping in; a red mist that had in the past filled him with fear. With Tywin's insufferable mug in his sights, he frankly didn't give a damn! Especially when the man continued spouting such disrespectful crap about his princess! "Regardless, I think she could benefit from a break from your presents. I take it one of those glasses is for her? Apple juice? A rather classless choice. No matter. Sir Link, hand me her glass and I will deliver it."

As if he'd follow orders from such a pig! Link's grip tightened on both glasses as he glared at the duke; a low guttural growl being the only sound which passed through his gritted teeth.

Tywin glared back. "Sir Link!... Give. Me. Her. Glass!" he snapped, coolness replaced by a petulant anger that clearly believed itself to be intimidating. It was almost funny.

Link wasn't laughing though. He did gift the man with fang baring grin that bordered on feral. "No" he rumbled sonorously. His attempt at intimidation proved far more impactful, prompting a gulp and a shudder from the duke.

Tywin's hand shot out to grab the glass, clasped with vice-like intensity, in Link's trembling left paw and attempted to pry it free. Link, however, wasn't about to relinquish his prize to anyone but its destined master, his princess.

A tug of war ensued, played slyly yet violently as they stared each other down.

"Come now. Sir Link. This is most childish. Give me the glass!"

"No."

"You know, I expected better from you, Sir. I thought you to be a most decent and risonable man, yet from this current display… It would seem… I was… mistaken…"

Tywin began wheezing and puffing from the exertion but Link wasn't able to fully bask in the pathetic whimpers due to the growing ringing in his ears. The red mist was thickening too. There was no doubt as to the source. The beast was awake… and hungry for "blood".

"You WILL… pant give me… pant THE GLASS!"

"No." Link's growl became more guttural and animalistic with each utterance.

Things were escalating rapidly and in the back of his mind he recognised the danger, yet the beast was insistent and its urgings increasingly persuasive. Faced with such a conceited cad, the thought of giving in to its suggestions became – far from terrifying – positively tantalizing! But what, precisely, was it suggesting?

Well, he may be wrestling with his left arm but his right was only supporting his own glass of apple juice and he wasn't feeling particularly thirsty at the moment. What did the duke call it again? A classless drink?! Perhaps he should have a little taste of it.

His feral grin widened and Tywin's face may have paled in response but the red mist was too thick now to tell.

Link raised his right hand…

ready to strike…

The next time the cad spoke…

He'd get it…

Link's attack was stopped when another hand suddenly grabbed his wrist… and it didn't belong to Tywin. Who dared disrupt his vengeance? The answer he saw, as his furious gaze whipped round to scold them, was… unexpected. Huh? Why would he, of all people, get involved?

"Sir Link. Sir Tywin. What a fine event this is. Are you enjoying yourselves?" Lord Halshaw greeted with uncharacteristically odious geniality, as though he was oblivious to the duo's hostility – hostility that, in Link's red mist, now spilt over onto the Lord. Yet even in his beast fuelled rage, he knew something didn't add up. Then the Lord gasped dramatically. "Gentlemen, surely you haven't fallen out in such fine weather?" He exclaimed in "shock". The act was genuine enough to likely fool Tywin but not the hero or the beast within, particularly when Halshaw shot him a warning look that roughly translated to "What in the blazes of the Gerudo desert are you playing at?!" The look prompted the beast into considering acquiring a new target, however it also galvanized Link's reasoning mind to fight back.

Unaware of the hero's inner turmoil or Halshaw's insincerity, Tywin earnestly stated his case to his fellow noble. "I can assure you, Lord Halshaw, this falling out is entirely the result of Sir Link's unrisonness and selfishness, qualities I thought were beneath him. I simply requited the honour of personally delivering her highness's drink and he refused me in a most disrespectful manner."

Halshaw listened to Tywin's charges but his gaze remained fixed on Link, probing him with an almost unnerving intensity, which only served to further rile the beast. But that wasn't all though. He was struck by a feeling of… nakedness; as if Halshaw could see his soul… and the beast hated it… no, feared it!

Halshaw released his grip on Link's wrist; an unwise choice, as the beast's red mist compelled him to "defend it" by striking the lord, not merely with the glass's contents but the glass itself. Over the ringing in his ears, he could just make out the noble's words to Tywin. "Ah I see. Sir Tywin, I understand and I think I can help resolve this "unfortunate misunderstanding". If I may be permitted to have a word with Sir Link… in private?"

"I would hardly call it a misunderstanding… but be my guest." Tywin grumbled irritably, finally ending his tug-of-war and letting go of the glass.

"Sir Link?" Halshaw gestured for him to follow.

Link remained rooted to the spot, his entire body trembling as he fought the urge to smash his drink over the interfering lord's skull. He had no right!... No right to judge!

"Come on, Sir Link. let's talk this out…" Halshaw draped a "chummy" arm over the hero's shaking shoulder and then, in a surprising display of strength, put his entire weight and muscle into unrooting him. All through the struggle, his outward façade of amicable composure was largely maintained, only betrayed by a subtle grimace.

Halshaw's struggles, every ounce of control left in Link's conscious mind and a hefty dose of self-consciousness, combined to finally dislodge his feet from their self-imposed incarceration and he allowed himself to be dragged away. Despite this, the red mist was still thickening. The bustle of servants weaving about was disorientating and the indistinct cacophony emanating from shifting shoals of Lords and ladies seemed to be mocking him from all sides.

His pulse quickened.

His breath hitched.

The inane babble was steadily being smothered beneath the high-pitched whine pervading his hearing

Once out of earshot of Tywin, the lord rounded on Link angrily "What in bloody bokoblin's bowels was that in aid of?!..." How dare you! Link's hand trembled. He was on the brink of an abyss. All Halshaw needed to do was push.

Instead, the lord provided salvation.

"Do you want to serve Zelda or will you throw it all away on a petty slight?!"

This single sentence was like a drunk being dunked in cold water. In an instant, the red mist cleared and the abyss receded, dragging the beast into its depths to growl in sullen impotent discontent. His every muscle slacked; from his locked jaw, through his fight-ready shoulders to his flight-ready feet. He could even feel his eyes softening in his face, from a gaze that must have verged on deranged, to merely piqued and perplexed.

Halshaw clearly noticed this dramatic shift and, for a moment bore an air of sly smugness. He glanced away and it was only Link's heightened hearing, no longer cluttered by ringing, that caught the man snort and mutter under his breath "Hmm, just as I thought."

What exactly did he mean by that?

Halshaw gave him no time to contemplate however, as he moved the conversation on with a jarring business-like briskness, as though nothing out of the ordinary had even occurred. "I'm glad you've returned to your senses, Sir Link. Believe me, I know the "Grand Dook" is an utterly insufferable, self-righteous prick and you are far from the only person who dreamed of rearranging his smug mug, but to keep one's standing in the court… all must make sacrifices…" Sacrifices! Hadn't he sacrificed enough already? "Yours will be to give that prick the two things you least desire to give and he least deserves to receive; Her highness's glass and… an apology."

"An apology?!" The hero blurted incredulous.

The Lord huffed, as a teacher to an unruly child. "Link, do you value your position?"

"Yes" The hero nodded.

"Do you value your oath to her highness?"

"Yes" Again he nodded, more passionately.

"Do you wish to continue protecting her?"

"Yes" A third time, with extra feeling.

"Then you'll apologise and make it a good one…" Halshaw snapped with blunt immovability. Link grimaced but didn't argue. "Even so…" The lord hesitated, manner suddenly pensive; dark eyes squinted at the hero, while worn digits stroked aged gravelly stubble, in contemplation of something. He seemed… reticent. "… you know what, I think it's best you let me lead."

"What?!" Link's well-earned suspicions flared. "You said I should apologise…"

"And you will apologise, however Tywin is unlikely to buy such a swift and complete change of heart without reason. I know the reason and how best to handle it…" Oh, and what "reason" would that be? The hero's icy blue gaze narrowed dubiously. "Anyway, I will explain the matter to Tywin; you will apologise and then you will give him Her highness's glass as he desires." Oh, he'd explain the matter to Tywin but not to him first!?

And then there was the outrage of surrendering Zelda's drink to that cad. She'd assigned the task to her trusted royal shield! The task was his! HIS! He wasn't about to relinquish it to that pompous prissy peacock! That ass wasn't worthy of her or her apple juice!... Not that Halshaw would accept his refusal. He needed a reason… a real reason to refuse. The perfect answer sprung to mind so fast it almost scared him as much as it's implications. He was Zelda's protector and this only occurred to him now?!

"Fine. I'll apologise but I'm not handing over Ze… er, Her Highness's drink! He could poison her!"

Halshaw seemed to almost choke, wheezing like a leaking steam valve "Psssssffff! Tywin poison Her Highness?! Link, I know the man comes across as a cretinous cox-comb but even were he malicious enough, he isn't so stupid as to poison his sole gateway to power. Without her, he is just the duke of a small insignificant province, fourth in line to the throne of a politically impotent kingdom – with impressive business connections, yes but no actual prospects of elevation. He'd have nothing to gain in poisoning her, especially when, being the one to hand her the offending poisoned glass he'd be the prime suspect."

Damn it! Why did Halshaw's rebuke have to be so water tight? "but… but then… what if he slipped her a love potion?"

The exasperated lord emitted another wheeze, this one breaking the steam valve completely. "A love potion?! Pah! Please don't tell me you believe such utter rot! The only "love potion" that exists is Gerudo Spiced Wine, and even that's effects are practically peasant's folklore…"

"But…"

"Link! Tywin is not a patient man and now is not the time for argument. Now, what will it be? Will you follow my lead… or should I just leave you to almost certain calamity?"

Hmmm, could he trust him? The Ordon incident still jumped to mind at the question, but time was dulling its impact and, try as he might, he couldn't recall a time since when the nobleman had proven himself untrustworthy – at least without blaming him for the actions of his son. Halshaw clearly wasn't telling him everything, however he made no pretence at hiding that fact; nor his feelings behind some façade. Exasperation and determination were carved in deep lines on his scowling face. Link's scepticism faltered. Well, he'd trusted the man enough to agree to a secret meeting, so… "Fine." he growled.

"Good. Best not to keep the "Grand Dook" waiting."

The duo weaved back through the bustling throng; their target briefly lost among the crowds. There was only so long a walking talking firework display could remain hidden however, and soon the unmistakable flash of garish colour gave away the duke's position: now stuffing his face at one of the buffet tables and attracting disapproving looks from passing ladies. What a tit! And to think he'd actually have to apologise to…

"Link, lose the death glare or this will be pointless."

Great! Time to put on a "smile".

"Ahem. You're supposed to be apologising, not selling him snake venom!"

Link rolled his eyes but nevertheless adjusted his face again.

"Hmm… It'll have to do… but you really should work on your acting."

Halshaw, are you trying to bring out the beast again or what? Not that he could possibly know the truth about the beast.

The nobleman pasted on an ingratiating smile once again and together they approached the duke. "Ah, Grand Duke, sincerest apologies for keeping you waiting. I had to assist Sir Link with subduing his war phantoms…"

War Phantoms?! What in Hyrule could… did he mean the beast?! Surely, he couldn't know about it! Link shifted uncomfortably, once again struck by a disconcerting sensation of nakedness. His belly rolled and lurched restlessly. Then again, Halshaw could simply be making this all up.

"War faintoms?" Tywin blurted, bemused and unsurprisingly dubious.

"Yes." Halshaw replied matter-of-factly. "Even for such a learned and cultivated man, there is no shame in ignorance of such things. Indeed, the details of such matters are the reserve of great warriors and war veterans and divulgence or indiscretion on the part of any man honoured with such knowledge is the gravest of offences…" Ah, so he was just making it up. Link's stomach began to unknot itself.

Tywin's impatience, meanwhile, unleashed itself with a sneer. "That's all very fancinating, Lord Halshaw, but what has any of this "war faintom" busness got to do with resolving my dispute?"

Halshaw blinked, as if stunned the duke couldn't see the blatant connection between war phantoms and a dispute over apple juice. "Why, everything, Sir Tywin! Without Link's war phantoms, all would have remained amicable. War phantoms can drive even the most sensible of man to unreasonableness."

"But what are these war faintoms?!" Tywin snapped in exasperation.

This should be interesting. What would Halshaw come up with? The lord proceeded to weave a meandering tapestry of seemingly thread bare ideas, trivial and vague at face value. Link shivered, once again struck by a disconcerting sensation of nakedness as, beneath this woolly superficiality, there lurked a sombre and disturbingly plausible notion; that memories of trauma or loss could manifest as spectres of the mind. Plausible… and accurate?

War phantoms? Could there be something to them? Could the beast be one? Did Halshaw know? But then how could he? Besides, the title of phantom seemed far more apt for the recurring apparition of Midna which haunted him. There was no possible way Halshaw could know about her… or it… or whatever! Hang on! His eyes darted through the teeming shadows but he found no spectral imp; nor could he sense her. It was the first time the beast had made an appearance without her fleeting presence following swiftly after – at least, since the night of the masked man. In fact, the spectre's presence had been conspicuously absent since they left the castle.

While Link had been moved by Halshaw's explanation, Tywin seemed less impressed. "Well, I can accept that war is not as glamourous as bard's tales make it out to be but that's hardly reason to forget one's social obligations, particarly in the presence of their bitters. I can imagine nothing that would make me lose my proprety." He pompously proclaimed before scoffing a mouthful of meat pie.

After such a supreme display of arrogant stolidity, it seemed even Halshaw was lost for words. Then Link spied his clenched fists. The lord wasn't speechless. Behind his pasted smile, he was furious. It didn't show in his voice though as he finally replied, inquiring with benign curiosity. "Sir Tywin, have you ever seen someone disembowelled?"

Was that a threat? Tywin appeared to be having the same thought. After a poorly disguised flinch, he gave a cautious "… no?"

"Really? Then, picture if you can…" Halshaw proceeded to "kindly" enlighten the duke, in vivid colour, exceptional detail and with the amicable nonchalance of discussing the weather. The duke didn't seem to be appreciating this education. Indeed, he didn't seem to be enjoying his meat pie as much either. Perhaps hearing about how guts looked when spilled had put his off functioning properly.

Link had to admit relishing the duke's discomfort and he suspected, despite maintaining a front of innocent affability, Halshaw shared that feeling.

Eventually, with the "education" continuing unabated, Tywin, who'd spent the last minute performing a remarkable impression of a blowfish – cheeks laden with now unappetising meat pie – finally swallowed, both meat pie and pride, and admitted defeat – at least as much as a man of his ego could. "Ahem, yes, well, ahem I see I may have been a bit… inconsidered. I take your point…" there was a pause, as he considered. Then come the inevitable ego soothing. "… and I can see that some with less consistent of stomach might be distressed by such things. I appreciate there are those more sensitive than I. I should learn not to expect such high standards from others. Thank you, Lord Halshaw for your vailuable perceptive. I merely did not take, Sir Link, The Hero of Twilight, to be one of these sensitives. Clearly your Hyrulian Heroes are cut from a different coat than those of my homeland…" Grrr! The presumption! The ego! The beast was barking to be let at the reigns once more. "Nevertheless, As considerate as I am, I will still require an apology from Sir Link for his great insultance and offence to my honour, along with returning that which it is my birth right to serve to my beloved."

Oh, fat chance of that, you prick! The red was seeping into his vision again

"Of course." Lord Halshaw agreed with cloying obsequiousness. "Sir Link values your esteemed association just much as his privileged position as Zelda's… oh pardon my gross impropriety, Sir Tywin… Her Highness's chosen protector. He'd hate to do anything to jeopardise either. Isn't that right, Sir Link?" He shot another warning look to the hero of "don't screw this up!".

Link didn't need the look. The mere mention of her name had cleared the mist. It was the second time today the venerable Lord had seemingly "forgotten" protocol and referred to her by name rather than title and, as much as he hated to admit it, the timing of such lapses was "awfully" convenient. It raised burning questions but now definitely wasn't the time to get lost in ruminations. As excruciatingly painful as it was, now was the time to swallow his pride; he'd take that pain… for Zelda!

Even so, while his mind had accepted "the sacrifice" – as Halshaw had so diplomatically put it – his jaw struggled to reconcile it with the desire to grind his teeth to a fine powder. It proved a monumental and bitter task simply to spit the words out but even more so to scrub them of the sarcastic venom that slicked his tongue. "Oh yes, I value our friendship immensely, Sir Tywin. I'd hate… I'd hate for my…" Oh Goddesses, what to say? "unfortunate…" Yeah, because you provoked me! "… and disgraceful" more like justified! "… behaviour to jeopardise it. My most…" Come on, you're committed now. Might as well spit it out. "… humble apologies for such a…" How would a noble phrase it? "… gross lapse in propriety." This had better be enough! It was certainly painful enough!

There was a nervy silence, exacerbated by a suddenly lull in the chatter surrounding them. Tywin interrogated the "contrite" hero with an intense unblinkingly gaze while his finely manicured moustache twitched erratically. The hero in turn attempted to pry more subtly while maintaining his "contrition". After a moment's vacillation, the duke finally reached a conclusion. "Well, your lapse in proprety is most serious… however I am nothing if risonable, Sir Link. Hand over the glass and reassert yourself to promise as gentleman and we will let gones be bye." He reached for the glass.

Link was still gripping it tightly.

"Sir Link?"

Link released the glass with an excruciating smile. "Of course. You are most generous in your mercy, Sir Tywin."

"I am firm but fear. Now If you gentlemen while excuse me, my beloved is awaiting my refreshments." Tywin turned to leave but Halshaw accosted him.

"Oh, before you go, Sir Tywin. You recall what I told you about divulging someone's war phantoms."

"Oh yes, A great offense!" Tywin drawled flippantly.

"Indeed. I just thought I should warn you, just in case you were accidently to let some mention of it slip – not that such a fine upstanding gentleman as yourself would ever make such mistake – there is a clause in the sacred code of warriors that any man who doth divulge another's war phantoms without consent be duelled to the death for the satisfaction of the offended warriors honour."

"Haha, yes good one, a duel to the death. Ah humour is, as you Hyrulians say, the best medcin. Hahaha, haha… ha…" his laughter petered out and his mirth crinkled eyes slackened. "Er, It was a joke… wasn't it?"

Halshaw merely offered his most ingratiating grin. "Good day, Sir Tywin. Wouldn't want to keep Her Highness waiting now."

The dukes face paled and his widening brown orbs darted to the hero in desperate hope of clarification that it was, indeed, a joke.

Link just followed the good lord's example. "Good day, Sir Tywin."

Tywin forced an unconvincing smile, adjusted his multicoloured monstrosity of a doublet and sidled away. Watching his retreat with eminent satisfaction, Link spied the reason for the recent lull in the tent's incessant hum and bustle. Zelda's crushing ball of suitors was in the process – spurred on by her curt instruction – of reconstituting itself as a large orderly circle, the expansion of which was swallowing up space and driving those not interested in refreshment or Zelda out into the sunshine. Satisfaction waned however when he saw the slimy duke surreptitiously slide in right next to the unsuspecting princess and tap her on the shoulder, startling her.

"Pompous prick!" Halshaw muttered scornfully at the man's back, before turning to Link. "Nice apology" He drawled with sarcasm, unexpectantly mild and amiable, considering the source – though perhaps such expectations deserved a reset, given the man's recent actions.

"Thanks." Link replied with matching sarcasm, not taking his eyes off the duke and the princess. His mind however was on Halshaw; specifically his notion of War Phantoms and the fact it hit far too close to mark for comfort. "So… War Phantoms huh? Nice excuse."

There came a sardonic scoff but when Link finally rent his gaze from his princess, he found a pensive, almost rueful lord gazing plaintively back. "Hm. Please Link, you are no fool. Do not take me for one. You can accuse me of embellishment… sanitisation… but fabrication? No. They may not be as quaint as I described but we've both seen too much to deny their existence. They are the price of what we do."

How could he possibly answer that?! The lord's words were far too close to the bone, sending a shiver up his spine, and any reply to them would be as good as a confession. He wasn't ready for that. Instead, he turned his attention back to his princess in the hopes of distraction.

Halshaw sighed and shook his head. "I wont labour the issue – Hylia knows, it's not the reason I came to speak with you – but… a word of advice: learn to control it before it controls you! Trust me, you'll regret it otherwise and someone like me wont always be there to bail you out."

Link remained focused on Zelda but he recognised – and was grateful for – the metaphoric escape hatch Halshaw had either deliberately or unwittingly provided. "Well, if you didn't come here to bail me out then why?" He muttered.

"Oh, the intervention was to bail you out, however even if you hadn't needed saving, I'd still need to talk to you… about a certain meeting."

Ah, he suspected he knew the one. "Tomorrow, midnight, east wing drawing room, right?"

"Good. you remember. Know where it is?"

Link was suddenly distracted by the subtle but growing aura of discomfort emanating from his princess who, despite her placid profile, appeared increasingly tense. It was his duty to figure out why. "The east wing." he mumbled absently.

"Know how to get there?" Halshaw asked.

"Sure." He lied.

"Really?... What floor is it on?"

…

"What corridor?"

…

"What door?"

Did he have to interrupt? There were far more important duties to attend to, like rooting out the cause of his princess's distress. "Why does it matter? I'll find my way. Besides, it's not till tomorrow evening."

"Because I hope to keep this meeting discrete and the last thing I need is you wandering the corridors, asking for directions."

"Hmph. I'll handle it." Link growled.

"Will you now." Halshaw sneered sarcastically "Frankly, I'd much rather make sure… ahem… but I can see any directions I give will be pointless. You clearly have more important things on your mind." He was right of course, not that the hero even acknowledged it, being far too preoccupied; practically foaming at the mouth at the sight before him. The cause of Zelda's distress had been spotted and it was inspiring a beastly resurgence.

He watched Tywin's hand insidiously creep up on Zelda's for a third time, only for the princess to withdraw her hand just in time to escape his covetous clutches yet again. A disturbing dance developed. With her hand relinquished, she would retreat, inch by inch to a safer distance. The duke would wait just long enough for her to reengage in conversation and then close the gap to try again.

How dare he! After the grief he'd given for taking her hand to save her, the duke had the gall to snatch at it like a thief after a purse, simply to satisfy his own greedy ego. Why, he could just throttle the slimy…

"Link, remember your position. Don't do something stupid."

It was rather hard when watching such his princess being subjected to such vileness… but Halshaw was right. He couldn't afford to let the beast take charge because, for all the righteous satisfaction its retribution might provide, it could never compensate for the months of pain and anguish that would inevitably follow, both for him… and, far more importantly, Zelda. He couldn't do that to her! He couldn't let her down!

Such thoughts helped drive back the red mist, though the beast still howled for "justice".

"If you wish to rescue Her highness, you'll need a politician's mind, not a warrior's strength."

"Well, you're the political advisor."

"What? Are you asking me to save her?"

"No, I'm asking you to advise me."

Halshaw huffed in frustration. "Hm, Link, you wont get far if you don't learn to game of politics for yourself, but, fine, fine. I'll give you a… clue…" The lord glanced around and then, spotting something, abruptly cursed under his breath. "Damn! Sorry Link. I must go. Look, if you want to save her, just consider the idiom concerning "enemies of enemies". Got it. Oh, and don't forget about the meeting. Good luck." Without waiting for a reply he turned and sidled away.

The nobleman's sudden alarmed exit was enough to momentarily pull Link's attention from Zelda's plight. Scanning the room for what could have spooked him, he couldn't help but notice the lord's strange limping gait again. With all the talk of the mental scars of war, he briefly wondered whether was the limp was another legacy of combat?

Despite scouring every angle of the marquee however, he found nothing to explain Lord Halshaw's hasty retreat. His survey couldn't miss an unwelcome new arrival though: a certain obnoxious giant, who he'd rather not tangle with right now. His father may have earned a begrudging respect but Eddengrin Halshaw had yet to show a single redeeming quality.

In his current state of mind, there was little doubt that any engagement would rapidly escalate to a brawl and that was the last thing he needed. Best not to get spotted. Link slinked slyly along the buffet table, feigning deep interest in its undeniably appetising contents and picking up the occasional snack for cover until he was directly behind Zelda and Tywin; the circle of suitors now providing a barrier between him and "Sir Cocksure". Fortunately, the giant was preoccupied with stuffing his face. Good.

First danger successfully avoided; he turned his attention back to saving Zelda. With a brief glance over his shoulder, he spied the duke make another grab for her hand. He bristled again, but just as before, reminding himself of the consequences of submitting to such anger kept the red mist at bay. Still, it was probably wise not to keep watching.

Just focus on a rescue plan… but what could he do? He turned his mind to Lord Halshaw's clue. The idiom concerning "enemies of enemies"? Hmm… The enemy of my enemy is my friend? What does that have to do with being politically minded? Tywin's enemies would be his rivals. Surely, Halshaw wasn't suggesting he befriend them?

He suddenly recalled something Zelda had once cynically proclaimed, following a particularly stressful council session. "Professional politician do not have friends. they have allies and they have tools." Of course! Replace friend with tool and Halshaw's advice made perfect sense: play Tywin off against his rivals to distract him from Zelda; just as Zelda did so often with her political opponents.

Hm, If it was really that simple though, surely she would have employed that tactic herself already? Instead, she just seemed to be trying to tolerate it.

Damn it! He wanted to leap into action but he'd learned on his adventures the price of poorly conceived rescues. Give him a pack of Bokoblins to fight or a dungeon to explore and he'd be fine… but formulate a rescue plan that doesn't include a single sword slash or death-defying leap? Now, that was a challenge. Not that he couldn't handle challenges or thinking, but as his time at the castle had proven, thinking, to him, was inexorably tied to worrying. Give him time for the former and the latter would inevitably take over. Yet, despite his painful gnawing impatience and distress at Zelda's torment, he had to accept the fact deliberation was essential to a successful rescue.

Better get started. Zelda was depending on him.

Right, so first things first, what rivals did Tywin have? Well presumably most of the other suitors… but the only one he knew by name was Atherton, and even then, he didn't know much about their rivalry apart from their obvious antagonism. Certainly not enough to work with. It was all very well Lord Halshaw advising him to play Tywin's rivals against him, but that was under the mighty presumption that he actually knew them well enough to do that!

He had no other option than to eavesdrop on the circle in the hopes some vital information would reveal itself in their bickering. Unfortunately, eavesdropping revealed another problem. It would seem Lord Fairclough had been right in predicting some suitors' reluctance to join the race. While Zelda had succeeded in persuading eight of the party, three including Tywin remained resolutely unmoved. If Zelda's plan failed… then this will have all been for nothing!

Shit! Now he had two dilemmas to handle. Just stay calm like Zelda's voice. Just stay calm and think things through; not worry, just think. What did he need to know? Well, the identities of the other two unconvinced suitors would be a start. He kept his ears pealed for names and one eye pealed for faces; the other he kept on guard duty in case "Sir Cocksure" ever turned his way.

Yapping and squawking like a demented farmyard, the suitors bickering continued unabated and, as minutes crawled by without any luck, patience began to fray in ways even Zelda's voice couldn't mend. He slammed his eyes shut and fought to bolster his resolve. Come on, this wasn't what he was made for but if he was going to be the ally he wanted to be; the shield he swore he'd become for his princess, he needed to learn to take it. There were no excuses. She was counting on him. So, suck it up… just as she was doing.

Then came a name… Carman Sathris… Not helpful.

More inane blathering and then… another name, one he'd heard from Zelda but also, far more importantly, from Tywin's boast battle with Atherton that morning at the stables. It was the spark that light the fireworks of inspiration, cascading in such myriad hues it was almost disorientating. In mere seconds, a plan had miraculously materialised from nothing. Was it genius or stupidity? He'd have to act fast if he wanted that question answered because the opportunity was already slipping out of reach. If the conversation ran away from him, there was no telling when, or indeed if, it would come back.

But how to even enter the conversation? Spontaneous inspiration struck again, thanks to the most unlikely of sources. Another idea; perhaps smart, perhaps crazy, most definitely unconventional. Either way he'd know soon enough. With no time for deliberation, he surrendered his fate to spontaneity and gut instinct.

Snatching up his inspiration and chosen weapon from the buffet table – a delectable but lonely chocolate and raspberry tart, cruelly abandoned on a saucer at the tables edge – he whirled round and tapped the unsuspecting duke on the shoulder.

"Begging your pardon, Sir Tywin, but is this yours?" Link asked in his best cloying propriety, thrusting the delight laden saucer into the gap that opened up between the duke and the princess as he spun round to face him, clearly startled.

"Wait! Where?! What?!" The duke blurted in bewilderment. Then his eyes fell on the chocolate tart. His mouth opened to answer only to be slammed shut once more as his gaze suddenly swivelled round the circle of suitors. After a moment's indecision he scoffed dismissively. "Bah! Of course not. I have a figure to uphold. I would not stoop to such… such… self-indulgences." his mouth said but his eyes said "Oh please, let me have it, just this once."

Link ignored the pleas from the man's eyes and swung the saucer towards the princess. "Your Highness" He crooned, offering the chocolate temptation to her with the aplomb of a seasoned butler. The result was as predicted. Princess Zelda, holder of the tri-force if wisdom and paragon of propriety and self-control, instantly succumbed to temptation. It was her favourite after all.

"Why thank you so much, Sir Link. You are most generous." She gushed with a sudden bout of "uncharacteristic" – and most improper – girlish glee, which seemed to slay the whole circle of suitors into stunned, stupefied silence. The shock magnified tenfold when she took her first languid bite and she release an "mmmm" of contentment, her delicate lashes fluttering closed briefly.

Link glanced around the circle, taking in the looks on the suitor's faces. Some seemed aghast, some appeared awestruck and some – of the more rotund variety – oozed envy from every pore. Tywin was the odd man out, making a poor job of concealing envies green-eyed first cousin; seemingly affronted that a mere hero could garner such a reaction from the princess. Unsurprisingly, he wasted no time in trying to suck up as much of the credit as he could. "Of course, I refused it because I knew you wanted it more than I, My Sweet, and I knew that Sir Link, as my most esteemed friend, having learnt much from my bindless generosity, would obviously offer it to you."

Such flagrant brownnosing would have usually set Link's nostrils flaring worse than Epona's when denied promised apples, but in this case he was actually grateful. Whether wittingly or not, Tywin's cloying words had legitimised his voice within this esteemed circle, even if his body languished outside. The one exception was his right arm, still presenting the now empty saucer to his princess; which proved a source of immense unspoken irritation for the duke by forming a natural – and entirely unintentional – barrier, keeping him from his "Sweet Beloved's" hand.

It may have been unintentional but Link wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. The plan had already gone better than expected so far. Best get on to part two of operation "stitch 'em up" before his luck ran out. He needed all the luck he could get when it came to acting… and he'd need to act his socks off to pull off this coup. Here goes nothing!

"Why, of course, Sir Tywin! Where would I be…" No! Scrub that sarcasm from your tone buddy before you scupper your promising start. "… without your fine example. I have learnt so much from our friendship, and your generosity is second to none." Was he laying it on a bit thick? The duke's face said otherwise. Anyway, enough false flattery. Time to strike! "I have to say though, Sir Tywin I am deeply disappointed to hear that you wont be in the race. I had been hoping for some friendly competition…" this earned a smattering of scoffs or sniggers from some of the suitors, including, Link noticed, the target of his upcoming surprise attack. Would he still be sniggering in a few seconds? "and after hearing some of your exploits I was eager to see your skills in action, like when you trounced… oh, what was the name? Belophon? No… Bustophan? No…"

Sir Cedrick Bastaphorn didn't need Link to spell it out to know what he was saying and was no longer sniggering. "What?!" He burst forth, brandishing a strikingly manicured finger like a spear. Link braced himself for possible retaliation but Bastaphorn's indignant digit was directed firmly and solely at the duke. "What pernicious bunkum! You've never beaten me at anything, Sir Tywin!... But then what else should I expect from a man of your eminent upbringing."

"How dear you, Sore!" squawked the affronted duke, his accent magnifying in his outrage and he stormed into the circle to meet his foe.

What followed had to be one of the most impotent, petty "cockfights" Link had ever had the pleasure to witness; the two "noblemen" trading more boneless barbs than an overworked fishmonger. The plan had worked even better than anticipated, at least, as long as the cockfight didn't turn into an actual one. Had he just killed two birds with one stone?

Link was so relieved and amused at his plan's apparent success that it took a moment to realise the magnitude of its accomplishments and the opportunity that it had, quite literally, opened up. Tywin's place was now vacant! Not for long.

With the rest of the circle thoroughly distracted, he slid, silently and discretely, in next to his princess.

For a moment his presence went completely unacknowledged and he began to worry that he'd made some dreadful miscalculation…

And then…

"An impeccable rescue, dear hero." She whispered, granting him the brief flash of a single sapphire orb and a subtle upturn of her lips. "The tart was a particularly nice touch."

"Thanks" he replied softly, biting his lip. At least he hadn't blushed this time, even with his heart swelling with joy, like a Chuu sucking up water. He could sense her stressing melting away. He could almost hear it in her breathing; in her heartbeat. His own heart was speeding up, driven as always by her proximity. Why he could almost feel her warmth against him. Hold up, there was no "almost" about it!

Link's entire body seized into rigor mortis as dainty glove clad fingers entwined with his own. His heart beat double time while his head was almost snapped from his body as he wrenched it round to stare at Zelda. She didn't even dignify him with a reply or even a meaningful look, her attentions seemingly fixated on the continuing cockfight before her, her expression placid and unreadable. Then a flicker of shining sapphire was shot his way and a second later… her delicate digits gave a gentle squeeze.

Blood flooded his cheeks so fast it was a miracle his head didn't explode from the pressure and his heart, responsible for this crime, sought to escape justice by smashing its way out of his ribcage.

It was at this moment that Zelda, in all her wisdom, decided to intervene in Tywin's and Cedrick's very public squabble, attracting every eye in the circle. Had she taken leave of her senses?! Link valiantly suppressed his distress as he attempted to hide their conjoined hands by standing even closer to her. "Please gentlemen, this is hardly a proper way to behave. There is a perfectly sensible solution to resolve this dispute. Take part in the race and you can prove your superior prowess."

"But Your Highness, I…" Tywin whirled round and promptly froze. His beady eyes darted: from Zelda face to Link's, back again and then… down, where they stayed for a painfully long time. Finally, his gaze ascended back to their faces, in complementary motion to his stormy descending brows. He remained silent as he peered penetratingly at Link, before turning his brown orbs to stare pointedly at Zelda. She returned his gaze, utterly unphased, even smiling at the man.

"Sir Tywin?" She enquired innocently.

The duke's moustache twitched. "… Fine, if you so want a race…" his eyes flashed to Link "… I'll give you a race."

Without another word he turned on his heal and barged a space for himself on the opposite side of the circle, from which he scowled sullenly at them. Had the duke noticed their handholding? His actions would certainly point to that conclusion but, as Link glanced round the circle, it didn't appear anyone else had.

Certainly Cedrick Bastaphorn hadn't, displaying nonchalant obliviousness to the icy exchange he'd just witnessed as he smugly sneered "Sure. If the Duke wants to humiliate himself in this race against me then who am I to refuse. I look forward to it."

"Hmph, alright. If everyone else is doing this, count me in too." Huffed Carman Sathris in resignation.

Well, that was the last of them. Now everyone was in the race. Hang on! Did that mean his first foray into playing politics had actually been a success?! Had he really just pulled off a rescue and a stitch up all in one? It certainly looked that way.

It was only now, at his plan's conclusion, that he could truly contemplate the magnitude of his apparent accomplishments. The quandary of Tywin having possibly seen him and the princess holding hands – or more accurately her holding his hand – initially appeared as a rain cloud threatening to dampen his burgeoning sense of achievement but, as he reasoned with himself, he couldn't know for sure that that was the reason for the dukes irate gaze. Tywin's anger could have been because Link had stolen his place next to Zelda. It could have been that he was simply mad that a mere hero and ex-goatherder was closer to his "Sweet Beloved" than he was. There really were a myriad of possible explanations…

On the subject of closeness, perhaps Zelda should… oh, she'd already let go. When did she do that?

"Why did she do that?!" His heart moaned in disappointment.

Oh, shut up! The real question was why she'd take his hand in the first place, and just like Tywin's anger, he had a myriad of possible answers. Such as…?

Oh, he wasn't going to get caught up dwelling on it now! As Zelda had said, he spent so much time inside his head already. He really should try and get in the habit of enjoy the moment. Don't overthink it. Just bask in his victory!

It was easier said than done but… he could do it! Of course he could!

Hang on, why was an alarm bell ringing?

Oh no!

A giant loomed over the circle…

"Oh excuses me, Lords… Dukes… Your Highness… but did I hear there would… be race?"

Damn you Cocksure!