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

33. Painting Problems

A.N: Welcome back, my fabulous readers! I hope you are all doing well. I apologise for the long hiatus but things have been hectic and life decided to throw a lot my way, both good and bad (Two holidays, two hospital operations, an infection and a new job)! Add to that the fact that this chapter has twelve alternative versions and well, hopefully you can understand the delay. I had hoped to make the chapter longer but in the end I just couldn't face it. I hope you can forgive me ;)

Anyway, enough idle chat. I bet you're eager to find out how Link's painting went - or at least I hope you are!

As always, reviews and feedback are very much appreciated. Keep them coming. Thank you all and I hope you enjoy this latest instalment.

And now…

Set up your canvas…

Pick up your brushes…

and prepare for…

Chapter 32 – Painting Problems

Medaria's spring – 281 A.G

"If you'd be so kind Sir Link, your chin is drooping again. Heroes' chins do not droop."

The hero complied… begrudgingly.

"Nor do heroes scowl like petulant children. Please could you adju…" The artist's pained drawl was interrupted by a snort from behind the hero. "… Your highness, are you well?"

"Oh yes, quite well thank you Basil." The sovereign replied demurely, masterfully downplaying the squeak which had preceded it.

Basil eyed the princess sceptically, even going so far as to push his spectacles back up his nose to complete the effect. "Are you quite certain, your highness? I only ask because, if I may be so bold as to say, your highness, you seem to be, ahem, snorting with alarming regularity and when you do, your face casts twinges of pain."

"Do not worry, Basil. we are perfectly fine." Zelda reassured him, by way of the royal we, just as Basil preferred it.

Link simply rolled his eyes. While that didn't help him see behind himself, he didn't need eyes in the back of his head to know the only pain the princess was suffering was trying to contain her amusement; amusement she'd been valiantly suppressing ever since Basil's battle to dispose of a certain green hat that was "The certified garb of a village idiot!". It was fortunate Basil hadn't insulted the hero's tunic or Link might have "booked" the artist an unscheduled dip in the spring. That had been two hours ago and the spring dip was becoming ever more tempting.

It was a good day for it. The weather was fine once again. A cheerful sun beamed in a sky dotted with cotton bud clouds, which crept languidly across its celestial blue canvas, blown by a lazy breeze. It was more like summer than autumn and the wildlife was making the most of it. Birds sang from every tree, assorted insects buzzed round the late season bounty of colourful blooms and, throughout the forest, the leaf-littered floors rustled with paws, claws and hooves scampering about. These had been joined throughout the hours by the increasing horde of trampling boots, as Lords and ladies trumped off to find better sport than staring at a hero and princess standing still by a spring in perfect silence… well, almost perfect silence. The imperfections of their silence came from the hero's bickering with Basil – a fruitless rebellion but, nevertheless, necessary for his sanity – and Zelda's occasional mirthful snorts and the rare veiled witticism – which flew clean over Basil's head. There was, however, another subtle sound Link's sharp ears caught emanating from the princess with increasing frequency: Zelda's stomach was rumbling.

He couldn't blame it. They had just crossed into what must have been their third eternity standing here and his guts were beginning to groan too. The white refreshment marque from yesterday had been moved up to the entrance of the forest but that was a twenty-five-minute walk away. He, however, had found hope closer at hand. Among the vivid flowering glade border the deep blue of huckleberries and the ripe red of gooseberries gleamed in the sun; a reward for his suffering once he was free.

All in all, things weren't quite as awful as he'd dreaded, with Basil's company and periodic bouts of bickering or bored silence being somewhat compensated by Zelda's presence, a dose a wry humour and the magical scene that surrounded them. He hastened to remind himself, however, that there was still potentially two more hours of this torture to go and not even Zelda could keep him sane that long; or sooth his arms, which were both beginning to feel the strain of posing with sword and shield for hours.

The minutes dragged on, marked by the contrasting energies of the spring's spirited burbling to their rear and slow methodical dabs of Basil's brush on the canvas to their front. Every so often, the painter broke off to ponder his subjects with a perusing gaze and a pensive "hum" or "ah"; usually accompanied by a twitch of his moustache and followed swiftly by a nod or shake of his head; which would almost dislodge his fine wiry spectacles from their finely balanced perch on the tip of his nose.

It was following one such head shake that the artist cut the silence again. "Excuse me your highness but – and I in no way mean this disrespectfully – could I have a few minutes with just Sir Link. It is simply that, regardless of one's concentration, two subjects can divide one's attention. I simply wish to capture certain details and…"

"Of course, Basil. No need to explain." Zelda said graciously as she thawed her frozen pose and wafted past Link, accompanied by a subtle sizzling sound and a trail of glowing gold dust that was the last remnants of her magic bow – with which she had been posed – dissolving into the breeze. She was dressed today in her classic lavender and ivory outfit – just as she'd worn during the twilight invasion. Slipping round the canvas, she took the opportunity to admire Basil's work so far. Her quirked brow and slowly seesawing head on witnessing the results made Link nervous. Was it bad? Was she pensive? She was smiling and it didn't seem forced. If anything, she seemed… gently amusement. Oh dear!

Fortunately – or unfortunately – she was happy to share the reason. "My word, Sir Link. It seems you have gained ten inches since this morning!" She gasped theatrically.

Link recognised the tease but lacked the context to understand it. Basil, as always, simply missed the joke. "Of course, your highness. Please do not take this as a diminution of your own stature. It is simply artistic tradition for a hero to be presented as taller than his princess. It is more poetic and, particularly with the composition, sword and shield presented as they are, strengthens the symbolism behind it. I also took the liberty of smoothing out some more, ahem, "questionable" features; for example, straightening his crooked nose and tidying his, ahem… hair." The artist wrinkled his nose in disgust, as if to call Link's mop hair was a grievous insult to coiffures everywhere. As such, he'd tried to persuade a defiant hero into undergoing another humiliating shearing, which the hero had flatly refused, even "in the name of art". It seemed though that the artist had successfully circumvented the problem – and reality itself – without a single cut or murder taking place.

It was the perfect solution really; while he got to keep his hair and dignity, Basil got his perfect image… though he better not have added a mous…

"Wait, is that a moustache?"

Link's eyes bulged.

"Pardon? Oh, no, no your highness. I merely have not finished his mouth yet. Plus…" Basil flashed a frustrated glance to the hero and muttered under his breath. "Sir Link is rather more animated than most of my subjects." Then reverence returned as he turned back to the princess. "Why, your highness, would you like me to add a moustache? I can if you wish."

"Over my dead body!"… was the sentiment Link wished to express but the horror of the prospect seemed to have petrified his tongue as his mouth hung agape.

His horror only grew when Zelda, giving no answer, proceeded to tap her chin thoughtfully. Surely she couldn't be seriously considering this?! "hmmm…" Her lips parted… then pursed again as her eyes appeared to take a whistle-stop tour of glade, notably skipping the suspended scream of her mortified hero. Then a brief blue flicker came his way as she bit her lip.

Was she toying with him? Was this innocent or some sadistic tease? Please, princess, have mercy and end this!

Either she'd read his mind or the goddesses themselves had delivered his message because no sooner had he prayed it than Zelda replied "No. Thank you Basil but Sir Link is perfect just as he is."

Phew! Thank goodness

Head sighed with relief but soon had to deal with heart, which was drawing far too much from her line. "See, she thinks we're perfect!"

"That's just a figure of speech" Head groaned, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. It was in this irritation however that head spotted something else to be truly annoyed by.

"Hey, hold on! If you're just gonna change my whole appearance anyway, what's the point in me even standing here?!"

This prompted a scoff from the exasperated artist, casting his imperiously elevated nose in the direction of his tiresome subject. "Sir Link, I don't mean to disrespect you, for you are deserving of praise for your heroism… but frankly… you are, without a doubt, the most notoriously excitable and impatient sitter I have ever encountered and that is as someone who has painted children…" Link's face burned but Basil didn't seem to notice, instead raising his nose even higher and puffing his chest with pride as he continued. "I may be a world-renowned artist, lauded in every kingdom from here to the gold sea but even I can't conjure your likeness from pure imagination. I require a base with which to work. Fortunately, Sir Link, it should bring you almost as much joy as it does me to hear that your base and, with it, your excruciating participation in this endeavour are almost complete. Just thirty more minutes and you will be free. I would prefer longer to fully capture the more intricate vagaries of your person but I think that would prove too much to bare… for either of us. Now if you could discipline yourself for thirty more minutes…"

Link bit back his sly back talk and begrudgingly complied.

"Oh, ahem, begging your pardon, your highness, but as much as I appreciate and am humbled by your admiration of my art, I do find it difficult to work when under such scrutiny. Please, if you could…"

"Ah, of course Basil. We apologise." Zelda graciously stepped back.

"Oh, please your highness, do not apologise. I am both flattered and honoured by your attentiveness. It is simply a necessity of my work that I require a certain… privacy of soul, if you'll pardon the verbose metaphor, your highness."

"We understand Basil. Please continue." With that, she slipped away to admire the vibrant borders of the glade, while Basil went back to his painting and frustrated scowls, and Link fought not to return them as he forced his limbs to maintain their excruciating artificial rigor mortis.

The hero's head remained rigid but his eyes followed his princess, sweeping along with her skirts as she swished down the lines of blooms, occasionally stopping to take in a particular perfume or colourful display with a soft smile.

It was a simple moment, yet quietly beautiful…

Until…

"Aha, that look, a wistful yearning. Perfect!..." Wait, what! Wistful yearning?! Link's eyes snapped back to Basil just in time to avoid meeting Zelda's as she whirled round to see the cause of the artist's excitement. Oblivious to the spell he'd just shattered, Basil mused on his inspiration. "Yes, the noble hero, longing for the freedom of his kingdom and princess. So poetic! Why in Hyrule didn't you show me this sooner, Sir Link?! It's… Wait… where did it go? What's with the scowl? You had it perfect, Sir Link! Capture it again!"

Even had Link wished to recapture that "look", any hopes of doing so were snuffed out by some unwelcome visitors; several suitors swaggering into the glade and converging on their "beloved", whose mirthful smile faded at the sight of them.

From Basil's expression it seemed even he wasn't too happy at the arrival of these uninvited guests, scoffing derisively at their odious fawning as they crowded round the princess. Link couldn't say much about the irksome artist but at least the man's reverence, admiration and concern for her highness was undeniably sincere and selfless. That at least was enough for the hero to respect him.

Despite their mutual displeasure at these new arrivals, there was nothing either could conceivably do to banish them. Basil resumed his painting and Link attempted to straighten his face out. His eyes still darted often to Zelda and her crowd of suitors, but at least now he had an excuse for it and his ears were pricked for whatever those pricks had to say. The answer as it turned out was 'nothing of interest'.

Hollow romantic cliches that churned his stomach were followed by meaningless philosophical platitudes, whose poor attempts at wisdom made him feel dumber by hearing them. The competition for stupidity was intense with each suitor attempting – and often succeeding – in one-upping his rivals for hackneyed idiocy. Then, with all romantic ammunition exhausted, things turned ugly. The delusions of grandeur were amusing but when they started being backed up by demands of Zelda's time – and more – Link's blood started boiling.

Fortunately for Link's temper and Basil's painting, the princess didn't tolerate such demands for long and it was the matter of a couple of curt lines, that the hero couldn't quite catch, to send the pack loping away dejectedly.

Peace was restored for all of a minute before another unwelcome guest burst onto the scene; his mouth silent but attire shouting his arrival to this world and beyond. Did Tywin's wardrobe possess a single piece with a modicum of subtlety? Not from all he'd seen. Basil visibly flinched at the sight; though whether it was down to the fashion or the man wearing it, Link couldn't tell.

The walking eyesore oozed his way across the grass, shooting the hero a single sardonic glance, as he made a beeline for his "beloved". She, distracted by a particular flower that held her fascination, remained unaware of his approach until the duke laid a rather indelicate hand on her pauldroned shoulder. "Ah, My Sweet, enjoying the flowers I sae…"

Zelda whipped round and for a fleeting second her visage beheld fire and brimstone. By the time her eyes met the duke's however, she'd donned an immaculate mask of prim cordiality; completely impenetrable to all but those who knew her well – rather too well, in Link's case. "Indeed, nature provides such beauty." She said, voice passive even as she backed away defensively.

Tywin didn't notice her discomfort. "Yes, they are very prity, though none as prity as you, My Sweet…" He crooned and waited expectantly for the princess to swoon, as was inevitable with such a golden line. Shockingly, the princess remained, not only standing, but apparently unmoved by such poetry. The duke, though clearly disappointed, was not deterred. He had more… so much more and he heaped it on her… like manure. From fragrant roses to cooing doves; imagined stars to bouncing tits; he pulled it all out, yet strangely she was still distinctly unswooned. A brow was raised at bouncing tits – great tits, naturally – but no other reaction was garnered from her pristine countenance.

When the shower of saccharine sewage was finally over, she merely replied "Well, Sir Tywin, you certainly possess a unique way with words." It was a miracle her voice didn't crack under the weight of irony in that statement.

The duke, while oblivious to her mockery, was still less than satisfied with such a nonchalant response to his romantic magnum opus, as was made obvious by his face, contorting like a toddler forced to eat his least favourite vegetable. Upon recovering from the affront of her underwhelming reaction, he hastily sought to capitalise on what little praise she had apparently given him – or so he thought. "But of course, my little sugarploom, who else could have written you such a poem…" Tywin's gaze flickered to Link then back to his sugarploom. "… that is, assuming you reseived it." he added with ill-disguised suspicion.

Zelda barely batted an eye, delivering her "lie" with sweet unimpeachable sincerity. "Of course, Sir Tywin, and how generous of you to give Sir Link the honour of presenting it."

This answer dimmed the duke's scepticism but didn't banish it entirely. "So, what line was your faverite?" He probed.

"Hmm, it is so difficult to say…" Zelda mused "a great many seemed so familiar, as if I'd read them before…" she chuckled "which is nonsense of course, Sir Tywin, as you would never be so ignoble as to take credit for another's work?"

Tywin laughed; a brittle chortle, that matched an equally strained smile. "Oh, haha absolutely, My Sweet, haha, yes utter nonsense indeed! but you know what who say 'great minds think alike', as your Hyrulian idiot goes." Hyrulian Idiot?! What are you trying to… Oh, it's idiom, Tywin! idiom not idiot; though you are a Landringallian idiot! – Landringall was the duke's homeland, if he recalled correctly. Ultimately, what homeland the man hailed from held little bearing on being an insufferable prick.

"Most succinctly put, Sir Tywin." Zelda humoured him, concealing her mirth.

"Of course, I am nothing if not a luddite." The duke responded proudly, while it was Link's turn to suppress a snort of laughter. Ah, honesty at last, Tywin. you are indeed a luddite, at least when it comes to treating the ladies. Erudite… not so much! Erudite or not, the duke cleared his throat and continued, cloying delivery tinged with frustration. "Now, My Sweet, I did not come simply to share my buzzing interect with you. Yesterday you astutely pointed out how little time we've spent together despite our six-month engagement…"

"Courtship." Zelda corrected curtly

"Ah, courtship yes. Regardless, it struck today as the perfect day to change that. The weather is fine. The scenery is fantastique. The bees and birds are buzzing. The perfect time and place for a romantic walk. Why not come with me, sugarploom…" The duke presented his hand for her to take. "Come with me and I'll show you sublimity." Despite his best attempts to disguise it, the sinister shadow of command lurked in his "sweet offer".

The princess, however, did not yield to his veiled command and her gloved hand remained stiffly at her side. Nevertheless, she kept up her cordial façade in both face and tone. "Your invitation is appreciated, Sir Tywin, however I am afraid I must ask for a postponement. I am sorry but while I am not currently Basil's subject for painting, he may require my presence at any time…"

"Oh pish, I'm sure he can spare you for an hour or so." The interjection was airy but the duke's face struggled to match it.

"That may be so but he cannot spare Sir Link, who…"

"And what's he got to do with this?!" Tywin hissed, tossing aside his flimsy façade of cordiality for barefaced ire; disguised only by its restrained volume.

Link bristled.

Zelda, however, didn't rise to his anger. "He's my Royal Shield…" Her placid voice was interrupted by another hiss, slightly louder.

"So?!"

"So, as my Royal Shield, it is his duty to accompany m…"

"Why?!" again, a little stronger; a little more possessive…

Link felt a familiar growl from his stomach and slammed his eyes shut. Now wasn't the time for the beast. Zelda already had one on her hands, she didn't need another. To try and suppress it, he turned his focus to her voice – still remarkably composed, considering her company. This however proved difficult, as her words were constantly besieged by Tywin's indignant interruptions.

"Because it is law that he…" She began but was cut off again.

"Why him?!"

"Because he is…"

"No! Why does it have to be him?! He only acweird his position last week and you manidged perfictly well before with ordinary royal guards."

"Yes, I managed…" Zelda snapped tersely, finally letting a small sample of her own displeasure seep through her otherwise pristine princess veil "… however that does not change the fact that Sir Link has, as you so bluntly put it, "acquired" the title of Royal Shield; a highly esteemed position, worthy of respect. I will not do him the grave insult of discarding his service simply for your convenience."

"My convaniance!" Tywin blurted only to be struck by a rare bout of awareness. Recognising his beloved's irritation, he tried to temper his own. "Ahem, oh, I apologise if you see it that way, My Sweet." He oozed "I meant no offence to my good friend Sir Link or his estaimed position. I'm simply embroiled by the passion of my love for you and did not wish to waste yet more time apart from your loveliness. And you must admit you owe me that time, My Sweet."

Zelda's composed countenance threatened to crack with a twitch of the lip and the barest quiver of her tone. "I owe you time, Sir Tywin? Pray, tell how you reached so precipitous a conclusion."

"Prociti… Precopit… Um, well its perfectly simple, my sugarploom. I am your suitor but I am also a Grand dook of high renown, therefore my time is precious…" The grand dukes voice soured again from cloying sweetness all the way to ominous warning. "… and you have been testing it…"

"Sir Tywin!…" Zelda began but the duke cut her off.

"No, no. I understand. This little game you ladies like to play. Playing hard at getting and feeling you must for purity but frankly, my little sugarploom, it has gone on long enough. I have been patient with your game and done more than enough, as a gentleman, to deserve your company alone. Now you, as a lady, will do your duty and give me what I deserve…" He advanced and she backed away. "Come now, My Sweet. I told you this game has to end."

"No." Zelda snapped; tone still calm though her posture had begun to belie that façade.

The duke stepped forward again and, as the princess retreated, Link, shackled in place only through his own monumental restraint, almost cracked the leather wrapping of his sword handle in his vice like grip as he watched. The beast wrestled and roared in his tightening chest and the familiar red tint seeped into his sight. Head told him he couldn't intervene – at least not yet – but beast and heart were becoming increasingly dogmatic against such sense. His ears had started to ring but he still heard Sir Tywin's irrepressible voice, attempting reassurance even as it oozed insidious possessiveness from every syllable. "Why do you recoil? I'm no threat, My Sweet. I simply desire your company. What's wrong with that?... Unless you think I am after more than that."

"Well, by your current behaviour you are showing yourself as most ungentlemanly so…"

"And how else am I supposed to act when my betrothed wont…"

"We are not engaged!"

"Bah! Technicalies! Everyone knows I am your best match, yet you, with your feminine wheels, keeping toying with me."

"Toying with you?!"

"Yes! All ladies do. But that ends now!" Again, releasing he may have overstepped his bounds, he again attempted to regain civility and the barest sense of decency, but with every time it became more brittle. "Please, My Sweet. Come with me and I will show you a lovely romantic afternoon; nothing more, nothing less. You have my word."

Zelda likewise tried to calm herself, while leaving no illusions as to her afront at his behaviour. "Your word! Sir Tywin, I had your word that you would treat me with respect…"

"And I have!"

"That you would behave as befits a gentleman…"

"Which I have!"

"You call forcin…" Zelda stalled briefly, but Link, despite his red haze, still picked up the implication of her silenced words and understood their potential diplomatic ramifications should they have slipped. The potential threat of war proved a much-needed boon to his flagging self-restraint…. at least momentarily. In his contemplation he'd missed the princess's attempt at tact, which – while successful in its defusing of political dynamite – had unfortunately failed in deterring Tywin's advances.

"Well, that's all well and all, My Sweet, but that is just your feminine interpre… interp… thinking. I have not acted in any way uncouth or inconsidered and I have assured you my attentions are pure… so why did you continue to insist on shirking my offer?"

"Because I wish to stay here."

"Why?" Tywin shot another suspicious glance at Link, a glance Zelda clearly noticed.

"Because – and you would know this if you had deigned to inquire – this place holds a very special place in my heart…"

"Is it the place or the company?" The duke muttered.

While still hellbent on preserving propriety, Zelda's voice nevertheless gained a frosty edge at the less-than-subtle insinuation. "I do not know what you are implying Sir Tywin, but if you must know, this spring reminds me of my late father. It holds a lot of precious memories."

Tywin noticeably stiffened, particularly at the mention of father. "Oh, ahem… I see. Well, of course… your father was very important to you but he died… what… ten years ago. Frankly, My Sweet, you focus far too much on the past… I mean your father, this whole commem'rative portrit idea. Such effort for things past when you have your whole future… our future to consider and it must be considered. Surely you can spare a mere hour or three with me and allow us to realease it." Again, the duke attempted to sell his covetous command as generous proposal by way of saccharine insincerity but the façade was now so fragile a disagreeing breeze could probably crush it.

Zelda's cordiality was similarly tenuous as she declined. "Again, a most kind offer, Sir Tywin, but I ask that it be postponed for another time."

This repeated snub seemed to drain the last of the duke's civility. "Another time?" He hissed incredulously. "Another time?!" He snapped indignantly. "It's always "another time"! You never have time for me! ME!"

Link, watching in helpless fury from the side, could sense Zelda clinging desperately to her veneer of cordiality, but her hold was failing and with it, so was his self-control. It was little comfort hearing the princess throw the duke's own earlier words back at him. "I apologise if that's the way you see it, Sir Tywin, but as Princess of Hyrule I have immense responsibilities and all my time is in high demand and you are far from the only one demanding it. If however you wish to labour the point may I remind you of last Thursday, and every other Wednesday prior."

"A pitence of hours in your company! Hardly enough for any suitors…"

"They are all I can spare and you get no less than any of the others."

"Which is a tapestry." That's travesty, you entitled bastard! "I deserve more… and you can give me more."

"No Sir Tywin!"

Link's restraint was cracking.

"Give me your hand!"

"I Said No!"

"Give it to me!" Tywin's hand shot for Zelda's. The shot may have missed it's intended target but it struck another, splintering Link's self-possession like a cannonball through a ship's bow.

"Leave her alone!" Link snarled, shaking limbs barely resisting the impulse to bring sword and shield to bare on his princess's tormentor.

Tywin wheeled round, burning with indignation. "This has nothing to do with you, Sir Link. Don't intrefire with matters above your station!..."

"Above my station! Zzzher Highness said no, and it's my duty to protect her wishes!"

"Ha! And you think to know her wishes more than I, her financier?! Ha! The arrogance Sir!"

Link may have remained rooted to the spot but his sword, despite the prospect of diplomatic disaster, began to drift in the duke's direction. His teeth, meanwhile, bared in a grotesque sneer of constrained contempt. The red was bleeding into his eyes and ringing was fast consuming all sound. He was on the verge of the snapping. Just one more push would do it.

"Come, My Sweet! End this pointless stubbornness and…"

SNAP!

Something snapped loudly but it wasn't Link. It was the prized implement – a humble paintbrush – of a man whose inimitable presence had somehow been forgotten by everyone in the uproar… but no more!

"How. Dare. You!" Basil's twisted face burned as he rose shakily from his artist stool, glasses flashing furiously in the sun. Temples throbbing, eyes moistening; the gangly rake of a man stretched his body and nose as high as they could go as he accusingly brandished a broken brush towards the duke. "HOW! DARE! YOU! And you think to call yourself a gentleman. You blacken such a distinguished title with your very association!"

To say this display was unexpected would be a gross understatement. All around, mouths hung agape. Even Basil himself, seemed to have shocked himself into brief silence with his own audacity.

The duke recovered first. "Now look here, you…" He howled but was immediately cut off by a roar of outrage from Basil

"AAAHHHH, Don't you "Now look here" me, Sir! I have looked here and I have seen. I have seen what you think constitutes gentlemanly conduct and frankly, Sir, .it… it disgusts me! It disgusts me! Her highness said no, yet you persist like… like some… carping cad!"

"Cad?!" Clearly another new insult to the duke but he felt its sting.

"Basil, Please…!" Zelda attempted to intervene to avert disaster but the artist, deafened to all consequences by his own passion, blazed on, his voice climbing higher with every zealous, almost feverish judgement he passed. "Yes Sir, an cad! It is the only label fit to describe … such despicable conduct! The disrespect you've shown goes far beyond disregarding her highness's title, no! You fail to grant her highness the basic courtesies deserved by any woman from a gentleman!"

"Gentlemen, Please!" The princess tried again, however shock seemed to have robbed her voice of its usual authoritative potency and her plea for calm was once again drowned, this time by the duke.

"How dare you! I will not be lectured by some a poultry artist with…"

"Paltry artist!"

"A classless, nameless…" The duke's rant was prematurely killed by a miraculously aimed dead paintbrush pinging off his forehead.

"Nameless!" The word erupted like a banshee shriek from the artist and the duke instinctively shielded his face with his still clenched fists; but instead of further tools of his trade, Basil hurled his righteous outrage. "My name is Basil Dillingus Pontefrack…" He bellowed, his voice somewhere between aggrieved alto and squeaking soprano. "Chairman of the Golden Crest Union of Artists, three-time winner of the Sambarin Star from the Nine Kingdoms Academy of the creative and dramatic arts and favoured painter of the courts of Hyrule, Gwynedd… and Landringall! I! Know! Your! Father!"

Tywin, whose seething presence had been ominously expanding like a lava flow, suddenly and visibly shrivelled, his fury – while not banished – was superseded by a look of such intense discomfort one would think his manhood had just been threatened by a dog.

"I know of his art collection, which he uses to impress his clients and I know because his three most prized pieces are mine!"

The duke continued to shrink, his mouth wagging wordlessly like a stunned fish.

"It is no secret, as he has even been so kind as to credit them for some of his greatest fortunes. And for that I even… I even ignored his flagrant misattribution of my nationality, claiming that I was "his fellow countryman, a proud Landringallian"… A proud Landringallian!? ME!" Basil's voice cracked. "Well, I aammm a proud Hyrulian but I graciously tolerated such "salesmanship" because I believed Landringallian's possessed a.a.a.a modicum, yes, a modicum of decency. But You! YOU! YOU dishonour the kingdom of Hyrule! You dishonour her hero! You dishonour her royal highness! You dishonour the very title of gentleman! Why would any self-respecting man of any birth tolerate being associated with the likes of you?!"

With mention of his father taking a back seat to personal insult, Tywin began to rise again in both power and stature. "How dare you!..." he bellowed but his rage proved impotent against Basil's mania. Even Zelda seemed helpless against the artist's tirade in her defence.

"No. n.n. . no. no! How dare you, Sir! For such behaviour, why, it is… it is… worthy of blackmarking…"

"Bleck… Bleckmarking?! Oh yea, from what?"

"The trade registers of the Golden Crest guild of..."

"Pah! Why should I care if my…"

"It's your family name that will be marked!" Basil screeched and the duke flinched as though struck by an invisible whip, shrinking into himself as the artist lashed him in almost manic hysteria. "Your father's name would be brought into disrepute! His trade empire stained. The guild may demand a fine; I may demand the return of my paintings; other guilds will hear; word gets round and reputations… reputations will suffer! Fortunes could crash! I will see to… I will see… I.I.I will…" Worn out by the sheer frenzied hurricane of his outburst, the artist finally faltered, seemingly on the verge of tears, his body sagging.

Zelda took the opening to step in. "That's enough Basil… that's enough." She said, voice a plaintive murmur.

"But, your highness?!"

"Please Basil."

"As… as you wish, your highness." The artist relented with a sniffle.

"Now, I think we can all admit that… we have all behaved in manners unbecoming of our stations and that, upon reflection and time for composure, we all owe each other… an apology." Zelda said slowly and diplomatically, though her hesitancy spoke volumes. Basil bowed his head, still sniffling. Tywin merely snorted derisively, too punch-drunk from the lashing he'd just received to protest his need to apologise.

"Is that not so, Sir Tywin?" The princess called him out.

The duke's face contorted. "I… suppose…" His eyes flicked to Basil and Link could have sworn he saw a hint of fear in them. Even contrite and downcast, the artist's threats seemed to hold power over Tywin. "I suppose… in time… I could accept… a mere apology." he growled bitterly, not facing anyone.

"That is most gracious, Sir Tywin. Thank yo…"

"I've not finished!" The duke brandished a warning finger and turned his scowling gaze to meet Link. "By sure, Sir Link, that you never even so much as think of drawing your sword at me again. I'll be ginerous and accept the painting as excuse this time… but never again!" Threat delivered, he turned on his heel and, without so much as a farewell glance to "his beloved" stomped out of the glade.

There was a tense silence as even nature seemed to hold its breath in the aftermath of the "battle". It was only broken once the duke had passed from view and Basil buried his face in a flowery handkerchief and blew his nose like a soggy foghorn. "My deepest apologise, your highness, it's just… the way… *sniff* the way he spoke to you…"

Zelda raised a weary but reassuring hand. "Please, Basil, do not apologise. We understand and greatly appreciate your intentions and the sentiment behind them. It is simply unwise, however, to exacerbate the quarrels of a foreign diplomat, especially when her royal highness still possessed a few tricks up her sleeves. But do not burden yourself with blame; you were not to know and we have dealt with far worse." Her words were those of calm reassurance, but Link was somewhat sceptical of their honesty.

Basil dabbed his eyes. "Your leniency and forgiveness humble me, Your Highness, however *sniff* I'm afraid I must test it further *sniff* as listening to that… that man *sniff* has left me quite overcome and hopelessly deaf to the muse. I'm sorry but *sniff* I beg to be excused for an hour to recover."

"Of course, Basil. Take as much time as you need."

"You are too kind, your highness *sniff*… I… Thank you." The artist bowed reverently – so reverently that he almost lost his spectacles – and then turned to the hero "Sir Link" he squeaked, giving a smaller but no less reverent bow before shuffling away, still sniffing and occasionally wiping his eyes as he receded.

With the dust of the battle truly settled, Link watched the artist's exit with silent astonishment. It was fair to say he gained an unexpected new appreciation for the man – almost enough to forgive the 'Bernard' incident. "Well, I never knew he had it in him." he murmured, sheathing his sword on his back as he approached the princess.

"Neither did I… Neither did I." She replied, equally softly… but there was clearly something else she wished to say. She clicked her tongue. "Your rescue attempt, on the other hand, I could foresee a mile away. Again, while I appreciate the intention, I had prayed you would restrain yourself. Confronting a foreign dignitary with weapon drawn…" She shook her head "I hope I do not need to explain the potential diplomatic dynamite you could have set off with such a reckless act, especially when I still had the situation in hand…"

Again, Link was sceptical of Zelda's claims of control. Her words may have spoken of control but her body, gripped with tension from head to toe even now, said otherwise – and it wasn't simply his own desire to justify his intervention playing tricks on him.

In different circumstances he might have protested but his princess's beleaguered demeanour stopped him. She gave a weary sigh. "Well, what's done is done… best not dwell on it. The damage should be minimal…" She said, adding in a whisper "hopefully." For all her talk of not dwelling, her expression told him that was precisely her intentions.

Heroic compulsion naturally drove him to try and lift his princess's battle-worn spirits. Mind and eyes groping about for distraction, he caught sight of his portrait. That could work! "Well, he certainly can't claim I drew my weapon on him, can he?" He asked drolly. "After all, even if the hundred or so courtiers who spent most of their morning gawking at us don't vouch for my "heroic posture", we've got it immortalised in paint. That is, if anyone can tell it's me with all of Basil's artistic… artistic errr…" Oh, way to go, screwing up the…

"Artistic License?" Zelda chimed, tone lightening slightly though her body remained tense.

"I was gonna say inventions." He replied, trying to recover his joviality. "I mean, I know the Twilight invasion is a stretch of belief for most people but just look at my hair! Pure fantasy, I tell you! As if I could ever get it that straight."

The tension finally began to melt and Zelda managed a faint smile, albeit one tinged with ruefulness. "Indeed, it is hard to imagine… at least, without Bernard's assistance."

For a tease, the delivery was lacking but he wasn't about to punish her for that and rewarded it generously. "Princess!" He gasped dramatically "I thought I told you never to mention that!"

Zelda chuckled softly, though her smile was still strained by nerves. "Oh, I am sorry. I had forgotten how a haircut could be so traumatic for my hero." She accompanied her jibe by reaching out unexpectantly and ruffling his hair, an act that left Link red faced, yet strangely conflicted.

Ilia would often play with his hair when they were children. He'd always hated it and always sought escape, yet with Zelda that hatred of roving fingers and compulsion to recoil were both absent. Of course, his feelings for her were part of it but that wasn't all. There was something more than play in the way her silk clad fingers threaded into his thick locks. While their initial forays portrayed furtive and mischievous intent, they'd quickly slowed. They were too delicate; too considered; almost stroking; almost searching for… something… or casting a spell. Why? What was she seeking?

The hero felt his heart accelerate yet his ears caught Zelda's pulse, still agitated from the battle, steadily slowing with each deft ministration of her delicate digits through his mane. Was she… somehow drawing comfort from it? From him? He watched her face, which shifted subtly with every few flicks of her fingers, but he couldn't read her expressions. Her eyes, in turn, were on him however she seemed to only half see him, apparently lost in some thought. His breath hitched. What should he do?

Silk gently brushed his scalp and it tingled, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. The spell was broken and Zelda's hand retracted. "Oh, ahem, sorry. Got a little carried away… Um…" Did her cheeks rouge suddenly deepen or was it a trick of the light?

"Princess, are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, perfectly fine. Perfectly fine. So, ahem, jests aside, how do you like your portrait so far."

The redirection was obvious but Zelda had already had enough conflict today so Link suppressed his concern – and curiosity – and obliged her question. Before answering, he took a moment to properly peruse his painted self. The craftsmanship was undeniably impressive but as he gazed upon his likeness and then to the mere sketch of the perfect princess behind him, the main emotions the image inspired were self-consciousness… and envy. Basil's hero was indisputably – as the artist had put it himself – an improvement over the real man. The height, the straight hair, the…

Instinctively, Link's hand shot up to his crooked nose and he grimaced. Of course Basil had to make improvements. There was no way the real him could stand in an artwork, a work of beauty, alongside his perfect princess with all his imperfections.

"Hm?" Zelda enquired pensively.

Link Shuffled awkwardly. "Well, it's impressive work." he mumbled noncommittally.

"And what about your portrait?"

Great! Of course that wouldn't satisfy. Well, likely the truth wouldn't either but that was what she wanted to who was he to refuse. "Well, it's like me… but better."

This truth, as he'd expected, earned him a wrinkled nose. "Different, not better." She chided gently but firmly.

"Oh, come on princess. You can't seriously think I look better with broken nose."

"Hm. Are you not familiar with the idiom "beauty is in the eye of the beholder", dear hero?"

"I am but I can't see how a crooked conk beats out a straight snout."

"Why should it have to? Why must they compete? Are you making me choose, because I assure you, Link, it would be a most cruel dilemma to place on me."

"huh?"

"Link, I recall a hero; mysterious, noble and straight-nosed, to whom I owe my kingdom. There is however another hero to whom I am also acquainted with; conscientious, caring, protective to a fault and sporting a unique kink to his snout, to whom I owe my sanity and dignity many times over. And you ask me to choose between them?!"

Link searched for her joke; the inevitable tease at his expense… yet all he found was earnestness from her. His only recourse was a bashful smile and tied tongue. "Well, ahem, errrr, thanks. Honestly, I'm… I'm just glad I could save you from something." His red face was unexpectedly joined by hers when her stomach suddenly and emphatically interrupted their conversation with a growl so loud it spooked a nearby sparrow.

"Oh, I beg your pardon." The princess squeaked, shamefaced.

The hero, however, jumped on this distraction, both to cover his embarrassment but also further distract Zelda from her battle with Tywin – which still held a grip on her shoulders. "Hm, sounds like the princess needs saving again." He jibed lightly and Zelda's blush darkened indisputably. She lips parted to protest but he cut her off. "As your hero, it would be my honour to save you from starvation."

"Please, Link. It is not as dramatic as…" Her stomach gave another rumble. "Ahem, well, regardless of its rude protestations, I would rather endure than risk another confrontation with Tywin at the refreshment tent… at least until the dust has settled."

"Who said anything about the refreshment tent, princess?" Link replied with a sly grin.

Zelda gazed at him with blatant bafflement. "But… then how…"

"You do know who you're talking to, right?! How do you think I survived my adventures?"

"You mean…" The light of realisation came to her face, quickly and unexpected overtaken by a gleam of almost girlish excitement.

The look caught him off guard, stalling his mind while his heart skipped a beat and promptly jumped on his brain's stupefaction. "Your highness, would you do your hero the honour of accompanying him on a berry hunt?" The line left his lips before his brain could stop it – or the bow and offered hand which accompanied it. Fortunately for his dignity, She didn't take it, seemingly held back by embarrassment of her own. It turned out not to be for the reasoned he'd expected.

"Oh, ahem, I would love to but… while I am wise in all manner of things and am fascinated by nature, I must confess I know little of its wonders beyond flowers. Could you… teach me?"

"Of course!" he replied with a little too much enthusiasm "Um, I mean, ahem, I'm not sure I'll be the greatest teacher but after all the lessons you've given me, it's the least I can do."

"Then I would love to learn." Zelda beamed, deepening the heroes blush. "Please… lead on."

So, offer accepted and orders received, the hero humbly began his guided tour of the glade's riches. While his embarrassment screamed for a whistle-stop pace, his heart and the glorious weather demanded the opposite and he obliged, begrudgingly at first, but soon settling gratefully into a languid stroll. They sauntered round the fragrant borders, sampling the bountiful treasures on offer beneath the dappled sunshine and rustling trees. Link found his tongue loosening with each new taste. He wasn't the only one relaxing. At the tour's start, Zelda's feet had been earthbound and burdened but with every pearl of knowledge her hero imparted, her steps became lighter. Soon enough, her feet and skirts were wafting with ethereal lightness over the immaculate green carpet, swaying softly in the gentle breeze.

As the princess hung attentively off his words, Link found himself once again reviving the oratorial spirit he'd discovered just the afternoon prior. He waxed ever more lyrically on the various fruits, mushrooms and nuts, revelling in her rapt attention, only broken occasionally to sample a berry or for Zelda to ask a question or express her delight at the taste in a myriad of charming ways – much to his heart's joy and his mind's bamboozlement.

His heart also seemed to by labouring under the delusion that Zelda was following him rather more closely than she usually did – or should do. Their shoulders brushing was just a result of her attentiveness in examining the plants he was describing. After all, she needed to be close to see them properly. Nevertheless, his heart insisted on ignoring reality in favour of fantasy and was thus drumming up a merry rhythm by the time they'd stumbled on the Ferris field mushrooms.

All in all, Link soon felt sickeningly silly in the head, and enjoying it far too much… the perfect recipe for "disaster". Sure enough, it happened just as his mind had been saying it would. He'd got too relaxed!

"Oh, now these… these are green popper berries or as Talo used to call them…" Link froze, the walnut-sized green fruit halted half way to his mouth. It wasn't the knife of sudden melancholy at Talo's memory searing his ribs that stopped him. That was bearable. No, it was a realisation. He'd become too familiar with Zelda; so familiar that he'd almost let slip "green pooper berries" in her royal presence. Then there was the "unique' way you had to eat them. It was the height of poor taste, utterly inappropriate for a princess to…

"Link, is something wrong?"

"Oh, ahem, no. Let's move on to another bush."

"This is the green popper, is it not?" Zelda quizzed, mildly perplexed even as she plucked one of the berries from the bush.

"Well yes but…"

"And it is edible, correct?" She asked again, berry now half way to her mouth.

"Well technically yes princess!" It was too late. The berry was already in her mouth. Remain calm, man, remain calm! It wasn't like the pips were properly poisonous, just some gas and stomach cramps and even that could be salvaged if he could guide her – though there was a knack to it that only practice could bring. "Ok, Zelda, the berries are safe but they have three pips. You need to find them with your tongue and…"

Zelda's face suddenly flashed with a look of disgust and a second later three pips shot clean her pursed lips.

"… Spit… them… out…" Link trailed off, shocked to the core. Not only could he never have imagined her doing something so "improper" but she did it better than he did, and he'd done it since childhood – spitting pips that was. How could she…

The princess's smile took on a hint of… was it smugness? Wait… or embarrassment? He face seemed to switch from one to the other and back again. Regardless, it had given away the truth.

"You've done that before, haven't you?"

"Indeed…" She replied, her voice turning suddenly wistful. "It is the one fruit in the glade that I knew I could eat… because I helped my father plant it here. It was one of his favourite fruits…" she gave a gentle chuckle, before adding wryly "and not just for the flavour."

There was a clearly implied humour in her words, yet Link had to admit, he didn't get the joke. "Hm?" he enquired, somewhat bashfully.

"Well…" She hesitated, her gaze turning to the bush. "… he used to tell me… "Zelda, my little angel, there will be many times in your life when people will drive you crazy. When these people come, there's few better comforts than a popper. Just find a private spot, pop a popper in, picture the man who made you mad and spit with all your might. Trust me, you will feel worlds better." He taught me to spit but I never knew just how right he was… until… well… until I took up his mantel…" She gave a sombre sigh and left her unspoken words of sorrow hanging in the air, their implications needing no voice for Link to understand. Her father's death was clearly still painful after all this time. It was a pain the orphan hero had never experienced but nevertheless wished to save her from. He opened his mouth to do so when, to his surprise, Zelda seemed to save herself; sorrow turning to a bittersweet smile. "I also like to think though… he saw it as his one little act of rebellion; to spit in the face of courtly propriety itself." She blushed "it certainly feels that way to me."

"You feel like a rebel, princess?"

"Indeed…" she said, adding after a hesitant bite of her lip "though for me, rebellion has always been accompanied by guilt."

"Guilt? What for? For the guy you imagined spitting at?! Pah! I'm guessing it's Tywin, right?! Well rest assured; he deserved it! Heck, he deserved double that!"

"Hmhmhm" Zelda chuckled "it is kind of you to say, dear hero – and Tywin was indeed the object of my ire – however that is not the reason for my guilt. No, the cause of my guilt is far more engrained yet mundane than that."

"Then… ?"

"My upbringing. It seems foolish, I know – especially as it was my father, the king, who taught me it – but I always feel a twinge of betrayal. After all, it was also he who instilled in me the true value of propriety, dignity and composure; all the lessons I would need to survive a world of politics of which I was not even aware of at the time. To that, rebellion is antithesis."

Much to his own dislike, Link's orphan past briefly brought the taint of envy at Zelda's talk of her father and his teachings. He'd had Rusl, but it wasn't the same. Quickly, the green-eyed monster was mellowed by the blue of sympathy. "You know, Zelda, your father taught you that spitting trick for survival too…" he said softly, adding drolly "and I ain't just talking about saving you the disgrace of becoming the "princess of wind-dom" either." This earned him a giggle, much to his pleasure. He met her smile with a dash of boldness and a flash of inspiration. "After all, a wise princess once told me something about it being far better learning the art of calming oneself, than being unshakable. If you care about anything, the latter will always be unattainable, but if you focus on the former then you will help far more than just yourself."

Zelda's lips turned crooked with droll amusement. "Hm, I seem to recall that particular pearl of wisdom being somewhat different when I spoke it back in Ordon… but I get your point. It is a far safer avenue for my anger than its alternatives."

"And did it help?"

"A little, though I would be far more comforted if you joined my rebellion: dedicate your pips to the cause."

Link flushed "Princess?!"

"Well, surely you are not thinking of wasting that berry now it has been plucked from the bush?"

"Well, um, no but… isn't it rather inappropriate…" Zelda's nose wrinkled and Link hastened to clarify. "Look, I mean, I'd been fine if I had your, ahem, errrr… technique. To be honest, I've never seen one spit so cleanly or gracefully…"

"Why, thank you."

"… but my spitting's nothing like that. Frankly it's rather…"

"Common?" Zelda clipped with a hint of cool afront.

"Vulgar" Link corrected quickly. "I don't want to disgust you, or worse…"

"Link, I can assure you, I will be neither offended, nor disgusted. Indeed, I will be far more upset if you refuse on account of concerns of disrespecting my station."

As usual, Zelda's perception had gleaned one part of his reluctance. Much to Link's relief however, she gave no hint her intuition had rooted out the other two, namely his feelings for her and, exacerbated by that, his general shame at spitting. He'd much prefer to keep those a secret and thus surrendered to her request without labouring on further protests. "As you wish." Steeling himself against embarrassment with the reminder that this was for the princess, he popped the berry into his mouth and, after a moment's self-conscious mastication, ejected the pips in as clean and civil a manner as possible.

Zelda tutted. "Hm, was that worthy of Tywin? Where was the passion?"

The answer was that he could do clean or passionate but not both; not to mention that he'd been rather too preoccupied to picture Tywin's smug mug and give him his full three pip salute. Nevertheless, he acquiesced and, picking another popper, he projected the grand duke's smarmy vision across his eyeballs and gave him his all. The imaginary duke was pelted with pips and – unlike with Zelda's pristine efforts – a fine spray of juice and specks of berry. For a brief moment, Link actually had to admit Zelda's father had been right and he felt a surge of triumphant satisfaction at imagining that toff's disgust. Then shame kicked that feeling out the door, as reality came crashing back in.

He quickly averted his scarlet face from Zelda, not wanting to witness the princess's clear and abject revulsion at that gross display. He waited in silence but it seemed he'd rendered her speechless.

Then came a contemplative hum. "Hmmmm… rough, unrefined…"

"Hey, you were the one…"

"… and liberated."

"Huh?!" Link whirled round to see Zelda, far from offended, softly smiling at him.

"I never said I disapproved." She replied with a twinkle in her gaze. "In fact, if anything I must confess, I am a little envious of you."

"Envious? what for?"

"Your lack of inhibition…" Huh? Link opened his mouth to correct her but she forestalled him. "Now, I know you were reluctant at first but you cannot deny you put your full unbridled passion into that second try." She giggled lightly "I could just picture Tywin's disgust. Hmhm, I just could not imagine the same reaction to my own… "cultivated" effort. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for the grace and dignity I was instilled with but sometimes…"

The princess paused, probably searching for the most diplomatic way of putting it, but her hero already understood and had no qualms about being blunt. "You wish you could kick it."

She nodded with droll amusement. "Hm, not quite the way I would phrase it but, yes, to let it go completely – just like you can – even if only for a moment, would be a blessing."

"Ha, you flatter me princess, but I think you're giving far too much credit to my "boldness" and not enough to plain old clumsiness. Trust me, Zelda. I've got inhibitions aplenty."

"Hm. Indeed. I guess we all have our personal interdictions."

"Contrary to your view, I was never the wild child you clearly think I was… even before I came to the castle."

"Really? You told me some rather wild tales of your childhood the other day."

"Hey, that was down to a little mischievous streak; little and long departed." He said with a flourish of faux dramatics.

"I know. Such a shame." She replied, a twinkle in her eyes.

"Ha! Mourn it if you want but were it any bigger or more alive, I think we'd all be regretting it. It might have been me throwing paintbrushes at Tywin, rather than Basil and I doubt he'd have taken that so, ahem, civilly."

Zelda gave a gentle titter but her twinkle dulled. "You may be right, hero, you may be right. We can but thank the goddesses for small mercies." A sigh escaped her lips and her gaze turned to a popper berry.

Link mentally kicked himself. It was clear that, even with the popper pips' mollifying effects, the incident with Tywin was still a sore point for her and he'd brought it up again, with a joke in arguably poor taste. "Sorry, Zelda."

She looked back at him but any anger she may have felt appeared hidden beneath seemingly genuine bemusement. "For what?"

"For bringing it up again. You'll probably need another popper berry now."

"And if I do, would that be a tragedy?" She snapped hotly. Her ire, however, was fleeting and she gave an apologetic smile. "No. I appreciate your consideration Link but you are not to blame for my overactive imagination."

Overactive imagination? He didn't bother to hide his puzzlement. She always could tell somehow, regardless.

She considered for a moment before elaborating plainly. "You are right. Tywin certainly would not have taken you throwing that paintbrush remotely as "lightly" as he did Basil. Not that we need concern ourselves with that. It did not happen." Her final lines were clad in a remarkably convincing veil of calm assurance that would have fooled most people but Link was too well acquainted to fall for it. She was worried and it proved what he'd suspected: that the incident had been a far closer call than she wanted to admit.

That fact unsettled him but left him with a quandary. Should he call her out or let her think she'd kept her secret? As much as he hated her keeping him in the dark, he understood that, in this case, she only did it to try and shield him from the very apprehension he now felt. And if she knew she'd failed then…

No. Playing along was the best policy for both of them, though he couldn't deny the opportunity to ask a question. After all, the subject in question had just been brokered. But first things first, reassure the princess of her ruse's success. "Yes. Luckily, I had enough sense not to throw brushes. What I don't get though is, why did Tywin let Basil off so "lightly" for it? I mean, Tywin doesn't strike me as the sort of man who'd take a paintbrush to the head from anyone without exacting swift retribution. Is there something I'm missing or is he just really that scared of daddy's disapproval?"

"Oh, he is far from the only one. Probably half of my suitors fear or loathe their fathers, because it is their fathers who hold the purse strings. Tywin is simply one of the most ignominious examples, being north of forty yet still little more than a glorified spokesman for his father's business empire. It is the height of humiliation for any nobleman; let alone a man of his exceptional ego."

"Ok, I get that but what of Basil's whole threat? With the guild punishing his father? Seemed rather like a lot of hot air to me. Surely it can't be that… dramatic?"

"Indeed, Basil's anger may have led him to lay it on a bit thick in terms of melodrama, however the core consequences he insinuated are perfectly sound."

"Really? All from being blackmarked by an artists' guild?"

"Not just any artists' guild, Link. The golden crest is world renowned and much respected."

"So I gathered. But still, is any artists guild's opinion really that important?"

"To world politics, not directly but to world trade and business, vitally so… and politics and business…"

"Are connected." Link finished for her, calling on one of her lessons he, till now, hadn't truly appreciated the magnitude of. "Everything is connected to everything else." He recited.

"Good, you remembered. Hopefully now you are beginning to comprehend just how all-encompassing that rule is. You see, while a guild's blackmark in itself may not be a major blow to any respective nation, kingdom or trade empire which received it, it could cause questions to be asked of said nation's reputation and should a less than positive conclusion to such questions be reached it would lead to no end of embarrassing or damaging consequences. Let us take into account that the kingdom we are talking about is small with an economy almost entirely based on outside trade and you may start to spot the possible carnage that would result from such a professional and public stain for yourself."

"I think so…" He said uncertainly. He got the essential principle, yet there was something that still bugged him about it. "… but it's an artists' guild? I mean I could get people caring for the judgement of a blacksmiths guild or a guild that supplies food… but art?!"

Zelda raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you think art unimportant?"

"Well, not personally but… for a kingdom, yes."

This earned a droll, almost pitying shake of the head. "Oh dear, hero, you still have much to learn. Art is hugely important to any nation or kingdom, particularly in relation to its neighbours: it is a statement of intellectual achievement; an expression of culture; a pronouncement of good taste… It is also one of the few "civil" means of prideful nations asserting their superiority over their rivals without bloodshed. Those kingdoms awash with great artists are only too keen to flaunt them and those who lack an abundance of great artists make up for it by collecting the masterpieces of others; Landringall falls among the latter. Now imagine what would happen if the highest guild for artists in the known world blackmarked them…"

Ouch! He was beginning to see just what she meant.

"Now let us go one step further and suppose the members of said guild did, as Basil implied, demand the return of their art works with the threat of financial penalization should they not comply. What would happen?"

…

Oh, that wasn't rhetorical? They really had gone back to those political lectures in her study – which seemed so distant now. Alright, so she wanted him to do some legwork. Ok. He'd best think this through. "Um, weeellll… certainly, it would be a dent to Landringal's reputation…"

"Yes… more specifically…" Zelda coaxed with her usual mixture of encouragement and mild frustration.

"Well, the artworks are, um, almost like heirlooms, you could say and their loss would lower their standing with other kingdoms… but also with their trading partners…"

"Very good… continue…"

"… However, if they refused to return them, the fines imposed could damage them financially, oh, and if they refused to pay those fines it wouldn't be a good look with other guilds."

"Indeed." That one word, spoken so often and placidly by the princess, now carried a note of pride for a model student and Link's heart, in response, swelled and spurred on his brain in an effort to further please her.

"It could bring into question the kingdom's integrity! Trader's might start wondering whether they could trust the kingdom to honour their agreements. Guild's may start pulling out of deals with them… and once one or two start going, others are bound to follow suit. Landringall's entire economy could collapse!"

Zelda chuckled and gave another droll shake of her head, yet her eyes still beheld pride. "Hmhmhm, I think you may be getting a little caught up in Basil's melodrama, however you are mostly correct. It is fair to say that, while not necessarily as crippling as you present, the true events would nevertheless be profoundly painful for a kingdom that prides itself on commerce. Well done, hero. You have proven yourself once again… an exceptional student."

He gave a bow and, with his heart swelling fit to burst, couldn't suppress a goofy grin. "Thank you, your highness. I am honoured."

"Oh Link, save the court theatrics." She scoffed.

"So, artists guilds really are powerful!"

"To an extent, yes… It was just lucky they held the right power to pacify Sir Tywin." Zelda's visage soured. "However…"

However…?

She simply shook her head again. "Goddesses preserve me. That man!..." With a hiss of frustration, she snatched another popper berry and stuffed it violently into her mouth – or as close to violent as her prim princess upbringing would allow. Link, to his eternal shame, had to admit he found the display almost cute – with great emphasis on the almost! Her spit was equally about as cute as something as unsavoury as spitting could possibly be – either that or his heart was just a sick degenerate!

Zelda's countenance had brightened slightly but Tywin's shadow yet lingered. "Link, care to dedicate another popper to the grand duke?"

Unlike before, Link didn't resist her request. His noble mind may have still blanched at the thought of such vulgarity but his debauched heart was eager to spit once more in the grand duke's imaginary mug and too bolstered by warmth and pride to let such decency make any headway. His princess asks, he will oblige. "As you wish." He grabbed another of the ripe green berries and gave his most passionate performance yet.

His reward was understated, a composed yet grateful smile. "My, my, hero. You really excelled yourself with that one."

"I live to please." Link replied, his rational brain taking back just enough control to add a hint of bashfulness to the proceedings.

"And you have certainly done so; a shining example of crude unfettered feeling, and I mean that in the best possible way. You simply must teach me how to do it sometime."

It was only once he'd returned a similar quip on how she must teach him how to do it "Awl prrrim and prrroper princess like" that the absurd, almost surreal nature of this entire situation suddenly sunk in. He was alone in a magical glade, with the crown princess of the kingdom – the most elegant, sophisticated and beautiful lady in the land; barer of the holy tri-force of wisdom and the paragon of dignity – and what were they doing?! Joking – and complimenting – each other's "exceptional" spitting techniques and what's more, the princess was giggling, primly yet gamely, along – the shadow of Tywin apparently vanquished once more.

It was farcical! By rights, he should have been aghast at his appalling lack of propriety in her presence, yet the best he could muster was a brief twinge of casual embarrassment before he embraced the moment and the twinkle in Zelda's eyes and laughed along.

Something had changed between them and it wasn't just him. There was something different with his princess. Her veil remained just as clear and vital a part of her as before – never truly abandoned for more than a moment – and yet… since their ride yesterday… he could have sworn he could almost see straight through it. And through this new transparency he thought he's caught something else, a previously unseen spark in her gaze, flickering fleetingly in moments of meeting his own. Be it real, a mirage or a trick of his own smitten imagination, the mere possibility of its existence was tantalising to a degree that should have worried him – "should have" being the operative term.

While his head acknowledged the danger forewarned by these portents – of some invisible line crossed in their mutual familiarity – he found himself all too eager to "suppress" these dour concerns almost as soon as they arrived. Indeed, as rational and true as they may have been, the notion that there was a line where he could be too friendly with her, too supportive of her… too close to her came with an almost physical pain. By the time Zelda had finished her next subtle jibe at his sudden lapse into his old absent-mindedness, he was back in the moment, with his smile renewed and all those pesky portents and warnings confined to the musty back cupboards of his brain.

Mercifully for both their dignities, Zelda announced her desire for more variety and learning Thus, they moved on, in a merry fashion, from the green popper bush to more "civilised" fruit. Even more "civilised" fruit had their pitfalls however.

"Ah, I think I know these. These look like red rupees." Zelda said, reaching for a red fruit the rough size and dimensions of its "supposed" namesake.

Link, who'd been rather too taken with watching his princess's confidence bloom afresh among the floral blooms, suddenly leapt forward, his heart and stomach jumping into his mouth. "Woah! wait a moment. Let me check that…" Phew! False alarm. "Yes, they are. You've got to be careful though, as the fruit of the blood rupee are deceptively similar. The main key difference is here… see these nasty thorns? Blood rupee bushes are thornless, a seemingly safer meal but, in truth, far more dangerous. They're highly poisonous, so without an antidote or healing potion you're in serious trouble." Serious trouble was an understatement! The blood rupee was so named both for its blood red colour and one's habit of coughing up blood within an hour of consuming it.

Luckily it hadn't been the blood rupee, but still, it was a close call… and another warning sign of the dangers of his growing closeness to Zelda. It was his duty to protect her, yet their friendship had almost distracted him – no, it had distracted him! Could his friendship actually be a liability to his duty? Head's answer of "yes" but was immediately rebuked by heart's emphatic "Absolutely not!", which was shockingly backed up by some semblance of logic – something about extra motivation and being more aware of her needs.

This conflict however was swiftly broken up by Zelda's inquiring tones "So, ahem, Link, these are red rupees? And they are safe to eat?"

With the princess's life in potential danger if he was wrong, Link found himself suddenly sceptical of his own judgement and he double checked both the bush and his brain. He was sure he was remembering right. Absolutely one hundred percent certain… well, make it ninety-nine. But this was her life on the… Oh what was this stupid doubt!? He knew foraging like the back of his hand. He'd be damned if he let himself relapse into his old worrying, self-doubting ways. Have some confidence man! "Oh, yeah, yeah. Absolutely." He assured boldly, demonstrating his certainty by biting into one. After all, ever since the incident with the masked man, he had taken the precaution of always carrying a healing potion for all eventualities… or at least, he thought it covered all eventualities.

"Oh… and Link, I am sure you are aware already but healing potions do not cure most poisons, only temporarily stall the effects... so an antidote is always required."

The hero froze mid chew in shock, his eyes shooting back to the bush yet again to triple-check his attribution of innocent "red" as opposed to the deadly "blood". Thorns? Check. Three-pointed leaves? Check. Thank the goddesses, he was right! His relief however was short-lived as another disturbing thought jumped out at him. Halshaw's brandy! Had that actually been poisoned… he might have died! He'd been pretty confident it wasn't… and he had thought the healing potion would protect him – well possibly – but still… pondering it now, it was insanely reckless. He'd risked his life, all to check some brandy! Why? Why hadn't he asked Zelda for help? Or Ashei? Or anyone?! Impatience? No. Ignorance? No, he couldn't truly claim that either. Deep down, he'd been aware of the risks!... He was always aware of the risks… and yet he risked his life nonetheless for a mere trifle.

During his adventures, he'd ventured to many a dangerous place and not always for some mission of vital importance. He'd dove into deadly caves for as little as some sentimental trinket stolen or lost be some sweet child or frail old man. Nobility played its part in such acts of kindness but it wasn't all. Virtue only goes so far and how far would virtue go to save another a moment's sadness or inconvenience?

…

Just how much value did he place on other's lives compared to his own?

"Link. Are you alright?"

Zelda's voice brought him back, though he remained a little shaken. "Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine Zelda. Just sinking back into bad habits." Perhaps, that's all his recklessness was. A bad habit, just like his tendency to get lost in his thoughts. Yeah, he was just reckless. Nothing to worry about. Just something to be aware of. Just a bit of youthful recklessness. That's it.

Now let's move onto something else. "So princess, how are you lik…" His eyes fell on her hand and for the third time in less than a minute he was struck by yet another consequence of his shameful inattention, and this time it had cost the princess. A trickle of red oozed down pristine white of her silk glove. The thorns! "Zelda! Your hand! Its cut!" He cried in anguish, sweeping up her hand to inspect the damage. Hmm. Wait. Where's the…

"Um, Link" her voice was, soft and most uncharacteristically timid. On meeting her visage he could see why. It was almost his rescue from the dreaded horse manure all over again, just without the audience this time – and mercifully not chest to, ahem, "chest". The main point of embarrassment this time was her delicate gloved hand, cradled in his own and held mere inches from his eyes… and lips. If anyone were to stumble upon their little intimate moment, they could rightly be forgiven for jumping to certain scandalous conclusions – Zelda's face clearly saw such conclusions, judging from the shade it was turning. "um, its just, ahem, its just juice…" she squeaked, adding for clarity – as if it were needed "ahem, from the red rupee."

Of course it was juice; it should have been patently obvious from the start! What was patently obvious right now was Zelda's burgeoning blush, quickly matched by his own – It didn't surpass hers though, as it would have done before. Yesterday's far more public incident, it seemed, had prepared him somewhat and without said audience to pressure and panic him, he found himself almost reluctant to release her hand. His grip was gentle; enough that she could have relinquished had she wanted, yet she didn't. She just gazed at him, eyes wide, lips parted and cheeks, not the full burning hue of the fruit they'd just sampled but a perfect pastel rose matching the blooms that surrounded them. Her heart pounded but similarly seemed less panicked. Her breathing was fast and shallow, yet it lacked yesterday's… hm, desperation was the closest he could come to describe it.

His heart was calmer but also, worryingly, more assertive and for a split second he was almost taken in by their secluded romantic surrounds. It would have been so quick and easy to bring her hand just a few inches closer and complete the gesture. Thankfully his head, recognising the danger, halted this mutiny by returning the princess's hand and stepping back – this time with composed reverence, as opposed to yesterday's separation, more akin to startled cats.

Nevertheless, despite this comparative composure Link still couldn't resist a bashful rub of the neck. "I'm sorry, Zelda. More bad habits." He mumbled.

The princess, similarly less shaken than with the manure incident, demonstrated a formidable recovery. "I, ahem, I understand Link. As I have said before, your solicitude is appreciated… however you can be too protective… It could cause trouble if you are not careful."

Not careful? Like pulling her highness clear of a humiliating misstep or calling out a duke while wielding a sword? He recognised the tone; one of mild chastisement, and he understood the sentiment she was alluding to – perfectly rational and reasonable – yet there was part of him that urged him to speak up in defence of his debatably overzealous protective streak. Fortunately, head overruled heart. Plus, his keen ears sudden pricked at a distant sound.

He glanced expectantly to the glade entrance and backed a couple of steps further from his princess. His teeth pre-emptively clenched at the assumption of another swaggering suitor to harass her highness. His jaw was left ambivalent however when General Alfonzo strode purposely into the glade. He was a far more welcome presence than predicted yet his stormy countenance was worrying.

"Zel, Ahem, your 'igh, ahem highness, are you alright? I 'eard from Basil. Why that sleazy, slimey, smug piece of…"

Link breathed a sigh of relief while Zelda leapt in to reassure – and silence – her 'overenthusiastic' uncle. "I am fine now, General. Sir Link's dutiful presence is most reassuring, though I would request General that you try to refrain from such 'colourful' phrasing in reference to our honoured foreign guests."

"Bah! 'onoured ain't the word I would use were he my guest, you highness." The old man scoffed, though his initial bluster had mellowed somewhat under Zelda's assurances – enough to work on keeping his 'H's in.

"Maybe not, Alf, but surely you of all people know, that sometimes needs must."

"I know, your high… sorry Zelly, I understand that but really there are limits – your keepsake's on? Good – but I mean to say, it just makes my blood boil 'ow 'e treats you and 'e shouldn't get away with it. Ahem, you deserve resp'ct regardless of station but far more than that, you are the sovereign, the crown princess and everyone should treat you with the highest respect entitled to you… and if they don't…" He turned to Link "Link, slap 'em with that sword of yours."

"Alf!"

"What? I wasn't suggestin' he stab them, merely a good thump with flat of the blade."

"Link, you will do no such thing! Alf, don't encourage him!"

It was clear the old man's comments were made in the role of the roguish uncle – which, given the anger still in his eyes, he played exceptionally – and Zelda attempted to play the role of the publicly reproachful but secretly amused niece, yet her performance was imperfect by her own exacting standards. Alfonzo demonstrated his own familiarity with her by spotting instantly. "I'm sorry, Zelly, I'm sorry. I know this isn't a laughing matter. I simply can't stand…" The old man launched into a short, animated rant, releasing his outrage and discarding his practiced pronunciation – not just his H's and G's – such that much of the specifics were lost on Link, who, looking to Zelda, received nothing more than a charming but unenlightening shrug. Still, while the nuances of the 'colourful' phrasing may have eluded them, the broad strokes of the general's vitriol towards a certain duke were plain as day and their vehement expression provided some kind of unified catharsis, judging by the grins sneaking onto the lips of both hero and princess – her imperfect performance, and the concern that came with it, quickly forgotten.

The rant lasted but a minute before Alfonzo's usual good humour began to reassert itself. "hmph, well the most important thin' is that you're safe and Sir Link 'ere's doin' 'is duty. 'onestly though Zelly, bein' you gave 'im this duty despite all the council's protests, it surely ain't a stretch to add a clause or two to his contract, regardin' certain unscrupulous suitors…" he winked "if you catch ma meanin'."

Zelda snorted, this time accepting his roguish jest without reservation. "Oh, if only, Alf. If only. If I were Queen already, but then that is the rub, is it not? I have to accept one of them as my king!"

"I just wish I could help, but his majesty – Ahem, goddesses bless his soul – never gave me any advice to guide you, at least not that this old fool can recall."

"Your comforting presence is enough, uncle…" Zelda suddenly paused and her manner abruptly shifted, her visage briefly flashing with inspiration before furtively scanning the glade. Then her voice took on a conspiratorial air. "Ahem, indeed your presence is most fortuitously timed, Sir Alfonzo. Sir Link and I have recently been confronted a grave dilemma and your knowledge could be the key." A grave dilemma? What could she be referring to?

The general bowed his white-haired head. "I am at your service."

Zelda immediately launched into a hasty explanation of the dilemma in question, namely Vanhorn's blackmail plot – which Link silently rebuked himself for having let slip from his mind in all the excitement of the last two days. Of course! The bluff she'd played, on the hunch that Alfonzo was expelled for possessing some inflammatory secret against the nobleman. Unfortunately, the old man's steadily sobering expression as her tale progressed didn't look promising.

Link listened and observed with a familiar mounting unease, which had been absent since their departure from the castle. An alarm began to peel in the back of his brain. He could almost hear it in his ears. Hang on! That was no Imaginary bell peel… it was the commotion of dozens of hurried feet and raised voices approaching from the east. It sounds as if the entire court – council, ladies, suitors and all – were converging on them and, at their head, a very familiar, very anger voice was firing off foul foreign curses like fireworks from just beyond the trees.

With the devil closing in fast and the princess too focused on cluing in her uncle to notice, it fell to him to raise the alarm. Zelda had just wrapped up her tale and was clearly about to ask the important question however it was too late for an answer. Link coughed loudly to grab their attention. "Ahem, sorry to interrupt but it sounds like we're about to have a lot of company." He said, directing them with a pointed finger to listen to the growing racket – a cacophony of excitement, confusion and anger.

The ferocity of revelry clearly shook Zelda, despite her best efforts. "Goddesses! What could that be? Link, can you make any sense of it? Catch any of what's being said?"

She glanced expectantly to him but he couldn't decipher much among the clamour; only the occasional word, none of which he'd consider appropriate or necessary to relay to her. There was however one phrase which was repeated, with various colourful additions.

"Where is he?! Where is that snake?!"

Seconds later, Tywin's lurid form burst into the glade with all the fury of a hurricane, pulling in his immense wake the entire court, whipped up into a state of pandemonium.

His gaze mad, one eye bloodshot, fell on Link.

"YOU!" He roared.

Link braced himself for an inevitable accusation. His hand twitched for his sword but he caught himself.

"DAMN YOU AND YOUR FILHANDRING FLOPDIDDLES!"

Um…

What?