Tessen leaned against the wall, listening in to the council meeting.

" . . . just disappeared."

"What do you mean, 'disappeared', Dark? People don't just vanish."

"This one did. She walked away, and then there was a bright light around her. When it faded, she was gone."

"We looked all over," a woman's voice. It sounded like Midna, Tessen thought. "We must have searched the whole damn place by now. If she's not here, then either we have spectacularly bad timing, or she's just not in the Domain anymore."

A moment of silence. Could the girl be Saval? Tessen wondered. Whatever they talked about seemed awfully strange, and Tessen's group had a tendency to have strange things happen to them. The voices started speaking again, and now it sounded like--

"Do you think she did it on purpose?" Tetra asked. "Could someone have that kind of power?"

"I don't know." Zelda. "It doesn't sound like it was under her control, from what you described, Dark."

"It didn't look like it, at least. She was shouting."

"Did you hear what she said?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

"No."

Tessen sighed through his nose.

"All right," Zelda sighed. Papers shuffled. "What did she look like?"

There was a moment of silence. Tessen held his breath, and Midna spoke again.

"She looked like me."

Tessen froze, and then let out a shuddering breath. "Son of a bitch," he breathed. Something sounded across from him, and he looked up to see a group of kids staring at him from the other side of the doorframe. He pursed his lips. Time to leave.

He began to stride away, picking up the pace when someone headed for the door and found the kids trying to creep away. "You guys can't keep listening in, you know," that unfamiliar voice said.

"But there was somebody here too, standing outside the door," one of the kids argued. "He walked away just before you came out here."

Tessen walked faster.

Hard footsteps. "Who?" Link's voice demanded.

Shit. Tessen picked up the pace again, keeping his face relaxed, hands in his pockets. Why was this hall so long?

"That one! In the blue shirt!"

Tessen rounded the corner, running smack into--

"Hazen!"

His best friend blinked. "What are you--"

"No time, let's go," Tessen said, grabbing Hazen's arm. "We need to find Irene, quickly," he said, as Hazen fell into step beside him.

"Why? What's going on?"

"Saval disappeared," Tessen said tightly. Hazen whipped his head around to look at him. "What do you mean she disappeared?"

"I don't know," Tessen glanced behind him, finding no one. He faced forward again, meeting Hazen's blue eyes worriedly. "I was listening in on the council meeting. Midna and Dark said that a girl they'd been talking to in the hall a floor above us just vanished. Flare of light, then she was gone."

"Did they say what she looked like?"

Tessen swallowed. "Like Midna," he said quietly, and Hazen cursed.

"Do you know where they're keeping Irene?" Tessen asked.

"No. I only found you because some girls were following you. Saval's got competition," he added dryly.

"Har har," Tessen grumbled. "We'll have to keep a lookout, but . . . Hazen."

"What?"

Tessen pulled them to a stop, and Hazen met his gaze. "We have to assume we're going to vanish too. What happened to Saval wasn't natural. And we don't belong here."

For some reason, Hazen's face went a bit dark. He nodded, taking a deep breath, and said, "Then we should hurry and warn Irene."

"Right," Tessen murmured. "First let's check this fl--"

He broke off, shivering, and then the hall, the Domain and Hazen vanished in a searing bright light.

Hazen stared at where his best friend had just stood, with nothing to mark he'd even been there, as the traffic in the hall ground to a halt.

Then he swallowed--and it was all he had time for before he, too, disappeared behind the light.

She didn't recognize this place.

The opulent halls, red, soft rugs under her dirty boots, the well-dressed men and women meandering from room to room. Irene turned in a slow circle, watching them give her strange looks--one of the women even laughed at her, waving a fan--and made her way to a window.

Maybe an outside view will help, she thought. It didn't.

She was in a castle, that much was now obvious. Below, a huge city spread out into an enormous expanse of fields. Forests, rivers, a canyon and even another city dotted the expanse, and as Irene heard a voice behind her, she began to realize where she was.

It was a woman, half of her golden hair bound in a braid and wearing a flowing white dress, speaking to a gaggle of children. "Don't give Paya a hard time, understand?" she was saying.

One of the boys, in a fine red tunic, sniffed and said, "Yes, mother."

"When is Hazen coming back?" the one in green asked, tugging on the woman's dress. Irene started, her chest deflating.

Oh.

The woman took a breath, trying for a smile. "Hazen is . . . out with his friends right now," she said, and all around her, the chatting quieted, people looking away from the woman--the queen, Irene corrected herself.

The boys pouted. "He said he was gonna help me explore the cavern," the one in red said, scuffing his feet on the ground. Dinsel, Irene supposed. Hazen had said he always liked to wear red.

The little girl sniffed. "Can you tell Hazen to come home, mommy?"

Children could be unwittingly cruel, Irene reflected, watching them. The queen was obviously struggling to answer their questions without losing her composure. She swallowed, kneeling to their level, and even at this distance Irene could see her eyes were bright.

"I'm trying," she whispered, cupping their faces. "I try every day. Wherever Hazen is right now, I . . . I don't know if he can hear me."

The children didn't take their eyes from their mother, even as Nayra began to cry. Her high-pitched wail started slow, but built fast, and Zelda was quick to intervene.

"Listen to me," she whispered. "Hazen will come home, okay? He loves you three so much, and he would never stay away from you. He will come home. I promise."

Another person stepped up to the sad group. He knelt and lifted Nayra, meeting Zelda's gaze with his own bright blue, and set about soothing the little girl. Zelda turned back to the twins, who hadn't begun to cry, but instead stared at the ground, heads down.

She slid her fingers under their chins, trying for a smile. "Have faith in your brother," she said quietly. "He may even be on his way home right now. Now, I want you to go to your lessons, and don't worry about Hazen. Okay?"

"Okay," they mumbled in unison. Zelda kissed their foreheads, blinking back tears, and sent them off. A white-haired woman with red eyes smiled and took them down a hall, and once they were gone, Zelda remained on one knee, pressing her steepled fingers to her mouth, closing her eyes tight.

The sight of it brought tears to Irene's own eyes, and she had to look away. It was hard to watch, but before Irene could do anything else, a woman latched onto her arm, tsking. "No, I will not have it. No, ma'am," she declared.

Irene blinked. "Who--"

"You come with me right now, young miss," the woman said loudly, and promptly dragged Irene across the room and down a hall, past surprised servants and laughing nobles. Face flaming, Irene tried to yank her arm out of the old bat's grasp, but it was like a vice grip. "Hey! Let me go, I'm not--"

"You better believe you're not," the woman shouted, dragging irene deeper and deeper into the castle. "To think those little rascals would let their own walk around in such rags, the nerve of those two--"

"Who are you talking about?" Irene demanded, exasperated.

The woman paid her no mind, continuing to rant, and Irene groaned, resigning herself to being hauled all around the castle. She was led through torch-lined halls, up several flights of stairs that emptied into a hall, and at the end she saw yet another set of stairs.

She climbed them, fighting for breath, and at the top the woman dragged her through a set of doors. There, she finally let Irene go, and as she stumbled to a halt, Irene glanced around the large room, rubbing her arm.

"What is this place?" she mumbled, then noticed a few noblewomen sitting in chairs, reading some kind of pamphlet. They were staring at her, and it was then that Irene noticed they wore nothing but silk robes.

Ah. Now she understood. She clutched her robe protectively, watching the woman who'd dragged her there putter around the room, looking at fabric rolls, dresses on forms, grabbing things like tape measures and scissors, and she felt the blood drain from her face.

The woman approached, allowing Irene to actually get a look at her. She was short, had a sharp face with upturned gray eyes, and her hair was tied back in a sharp braid. She walked around Irene, tsking, and then stepped back.

"Strip," she ordered.

Irene's face burned hotter than ever. "E-Excuse me?" she spluttered, backing away. The woman reached for her, but at that moment, one of the women stood and spoke.

"Henya, please," she said, her eyes twinkling. "You'll traumatize her."

Henya harrumphed, setting her hands on her hips. The woman turned to Irene, gently taking her hands. "Come on, let's get you to our head seamstress--and recently promoted head stylist," she added with a wink, and pulled her to the left of the room. Fitting rooms occupied the right side, and at the back of the wall, a few doors were set in the wall. And across from the fitting rooms sat a desk surrounded with dozens of fabric cuts, forms, and half-finished projects. A girl sat at the desk, measuring a stretch of deep blue silk, and behind her, the wall was absolutely covered in organized drawings, lists of products, measurements, and other things Irene couldn't read.

The girl stood, grinning. "Henya can be a bit much," she said, her green eyes twinkling. "I'm Alana, the royal stylist."

Irene could barely manage speech. "I-Irene."

Alana came around the desk, taking the hand that Irene offered. The other girl excused herself, and with a word of thanks, Alana stood back from Irene. She bit her lip.

Irene's face flushed. "It's been a rough time."

Unexpectedly, the stylist's face lit in understanding. "Oh, trust me," she said, leading her through one of the doors to the left, "you'll get no judgement from me."

She strode across the biggest bathroom Irene had ever set foot in and turned on the tap in the bath. "We've got a selection of whatever you need, and the towels are just there, so yell when you're all set, and we'll begin, all right?"

Alana's smile was almost too sweet. Irene offered a smile in return, and the stylist swept from the room, leaving Irene alone.

All at once, everything crashed down, and Irene had to grip the edge of the sink at her left to stay on her feet. She breathed in deep until the spots faded, and then slowly sat by the marble tub, watching it fill. While she sat there, she looked at each of the bottles, sniffing some of them. When the tub was full, she stipped off her robe, carefully folding it by the foot of the tub, and climbed in.

Once she was submerged, Irene laid back, staring at the ceiling, and slowly took out what happened.

The last thing she remembered was the Moon falling, Hazen dragging her along the ground as debris crashed down inches from their faces, and their fingers brushing the edges of the Doors. Then, she was in that all-white space with everyone, and Majora was just . . . there. Not attacking, not even moving.

And now she was here.

Irene narrowed her eyes. The Doors . . . they'd looked different, in the pit at Stone Tower. Blurrier. They'd been less doors, and more . . . vague shapes of light. Had something gone wrong with them? Was some outside force affecting them?

Was Majora behind it?

Irene sighed. The irony of it all . . . Hazen had wanted nothing more than to go home, and yet the one time the Doors dropped them off here, she was the only one to make it. She shook her head. It was unfair.

And that was another thing: what was she even doing here? What was the purpose of leaving her here, in the castle no less? Was there one?

She had to believe there was. Every place they'd been, every Hyrule, something had put them there for a reason. They'd picked her and Sahasrahla up in her Hyrule. In the Era of the Wild, they'd found a safe place to regroup and gather more information on Majora. In Termina, they'd found even more about it. So if she was now here, then there was something to be done.

But what was she supposed to do? The first thing should be to find Hazen, Tessen and Saval. But up until then, they'd always been dropped as a group. No matter where they ended up, they'd never been separated before. So did that mean that they weren't here?

And if that was the case, then why? Was it because they hadn't been together when they went through the Doors? But then, for just a few moments, in that white space . . .

Irene sighed again, reaching for one of the soaps. As she washed, she tried to puzzle it out, but all she could focus on was Hazen. Was he all right? Where was he? The last few hours in Stone Tower came back to her, and she couldn't help remembering the look on his face when she talked about her parents . . .

Her face flushed, recalling how his eyes flicked from her own, down to her mouth, and back, how she swore he'd even leaned in slightly. Irene swallowed, dunking beneath the water to rinse. She couldn't afford to think of him right now--not too deeply.

She reached for the hair care bottles and tried to clear her mind. Alana would be wondering where she was, no matter what she said, and Irene needed to figure out how to do this. She needed to be smart about how she went about herself now.

Irene washed her hair twice before deeming it clean enough, then climbed out, toweled off, and grabbed the silk robe laid out for her. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Alana wasn't at her desk. Irene made her way to the main room, where the noblewoman from before was being fitted in a beautiful cream gown.

Irene squirmed a bit at having to wear one of those, but she had resigned herself to it in the tub. She couldn't afford to be picky about what she wore, and her robe, as it was now, certainly wasn't an option. She wasn't trudging through the country anymore.

So she sat in the chair the noblewoman had vacated, offering a tight smile to the other woman, and grabbed a pamphlet. It was filled with women dressed in all kinds of dresses, some of which were gaudy at best. She wondered vaguely what Alana would fit her in, hoping it wouldn't be too uncomfortable. She needed to be able to breathe, and some of the gowns she'd caught glimpses of didn't seem to allow much room for air.

Too soon, the woman was fitted, and she and her friend left. Irene met Alana's smile with a tight one of her own, and stood on the raised platform. "So," Alana said, unfurling a tape measure. "What color do you prefer?"

Um. "Blue, I guess," Irene said, as Alana measured her legs. "And, um, white?"

Alana sent her a crooked smile before measuring her waist. "You don't sound very sure."

Irene tried not to fidget. "I'm not used to this," she muttered.

"To being fitted?"

"Not really. I always made my own clothes."

"Ah, I see. Out of preference, or?"

Irene shrugged as Alana stood on a stepstool, beginning to measure her shoulders. "Of a kind. I lived too far from a seamstress."

"Oh? What part of the empire are you from, may I ask?"

For all Irene tried, she missed the way Alana glanced at her, just a flash. "The . . . countryside. Not very many villages."

Limited information, Irene reminded herself. Offer limited information.

Alana murmured a warning just before wrapping the tape measure around Irene's chest. She made a quick note and then unfurled it, offering a quick smile. "The worst is over. Now step down, and I'll be right back, all right?"

Alana made her way through the forest of racks, occasionally looking down at her notes, asking questions all the while. "The countryside can be pretty rough sometimes. I hear Ordon doesn't have a seamstress, either."

Hadn't Hazen mentioned that name? Some small farming village in the country, she thought . . . Distracted, Irene said, "I--Ordon? Yes, I think that was close to where I lived."

For a moment Alana didn't answer, and Irene felt her heart seize. Had she said something wrong? But then the stylist emerged, several gowns on hooks hanging from her hand. "Try these on, and tell me what you think, all right?"

Irene took them and headed for the fitting room, but before she closed the door, she saw Alana open the door to the apartment and hand a slip of paper to the guards outside. She didn't hear what was said, but the guard saluted Alana and set off. The other stayed put.

Irene shut the door, leaning against it for a second, willing her heart to slow down. Damn her soul, she'd said something off. She closed her eyes, cursing herself, and pushed off. She was overreacting. There was no reason to fear--Alana had probably just done some bit of business as the stylist.

Hands trembling, Irene cast a low-power calming spell on herself and grabbed one of the dresses. It was a pale blue, with swathes of white and a very light tan, and gold threaded its way in floral designs up the dress to form the sleeves. They covered the shoulders and laced the top of the bodice. Irene stared at it, swallowing.

Suck it up, she thought. You're a witch. You've fought a demon mask and traveled through time. You can put on a dress.

Irene slid out of her robe, picking up the dress, and pulled it on. It wasn't as uncomfortable as she'd thought, and there wasn't even a corset. It did fit her closer than she'd expected, though--looking in the mirror, she saw it hugged her sides and hips, and flowed almost straight down. It looked like silk.

She'd never worn anything near this fancy in her life. And for a second, looking at herself in the mirror, Irene wondered if it would ever fit her. If this life would fit her.

That's stupid, she told herself, looking away from the mirror with a scowl.

She opened the door, feeling her skin flush, and met Alana's raised, expectant brows. "Well? What do you think?"

"No corset," Irene managed, trying to smile. Alana huffed a laugh, gesturing for Irene to step into the light.

"My best friend hates corsets," she said, circling Irene, pinching fabric here and there, her eyes focused. "I'm pretty sure the entire empire celebrated when she did away with them."

"She can do that?" Irene blurted.

Alana laughed. "She can. I would think the people wouldn't deny her that, after all she's done."

After all she's done? What does that mean? "Um--"

"This needs to be trimmed," Alana muttered, crouching at the hem. She stood, catching sight of Irene's confused face. "What's wrong?"

"Who . . ." Irene debated even asking, but . . . "Who are you talking about?"

If everyday citizens had the power to ban an article of clothing simply because they hated it, Irene feared to ask what the queen was capable of. Alana blinked, then her face cleared. "Oh, the empress, of course."

The empress. Of course, Irene thought sarcastically. Alana's gaze lingered on the witch's face for a split second longer before she crossed the floor to a table, nearly buried beneath books and catalogues. "Look through these, and take the other two dresses with you when you leave, all right? I'll need this one back to make the adjustments."

Irene blinked. "I--then what do I wear?"

"Here." Alana handed her a thicker robe, lined with fur and white. "This will at least keep you warm. Henya?"

Oh no, Irene thought. The short woman appeared, sending a frosty look at Irene before turning to Alana. "Yes?"

"Would you get Saria for me? I need to know where Irene is staying."

"Right away."

Was Henya a servant? She didn't act like how Irene had assumed servants behaved, but then Hazen did tell her that his mother ran a relaxed castle--

"Irene?"

She jerked. "Yes?"

Alana smiled slightly. "I was just asking where Saria found you."

Saria? Why was that name familiar? Irene wavered, unbalanced. "U-um, she--"

"If you don't want to tell me, that's fine," Alana said, waving a hand. She bustled around the room, cleaning up fabric scraps and hanging up dresses. "I just know that she's always had a soft spot for orphans, and with the orphanage's annual ball this evening, I was curious where she picked you up."

Saria. An orphan. And she--

"Oh, r-right," Irene stammered. "She found me in . . . Termina. Clock Town, specifically."

"Ah. And . . . were you there long?"

Alana's voice had acquired an edge to it. Not anger, or even upset, but . . . something more sad. Irene remembered more of what Hazen had told her of the war, and rushed to add, "Since I was young, I think. I just remember being moved around a lot, after . . . the Fall."

Was that too much? Alana turned to her and smiled sadly, lowered the tape measure, rolling it and unrolling it in her hands. "You know, we have programs," she offered. "To find parents, siblings . . ."

She left the statement open, but when Irene answered, this time nothing was faked. "I appreciate it, but . . . I'm not sure that would help me. My parents were killed by monsters."

Alana swallowed, her smile gone. "Goddesses," she murmured. "I am so sorry."

So am I, Irene thought. She pushed down the painful memories and forced herself to take a deep breath. "So what time does the ball start?"

Alana seemed to do the same. "Around six this evening. Henya and Saria will be here soon to take you to your room, and again to bring you to the ballroom. I'll have the dresses brought a few hours early so you can get ready."

A few hours to put on a dress? Despite the confusion, Irene smiled, and when the knock came at the door and Alana shouted, "Come in!" she was struck with a new realization.

Henya strode back in, this time followed by a short, slender young woman with dark green hair in a messy knot, and a smart white suit. Her jacket was slung over her arm, and the shirt beneath was of a simple pale green silk. "This is the last one," Alana called, hauling away a large dress form.

Saria only raised a brow. She stared at Irene, green eyes narrow at the corners, and watched her struggle to breathe.

Saria, the orphan girl. The friend of Zelda, the Empress. The bloody Sage of Forest. Saria, who ran some kind of orphan collection and knew damn well that Irene was not one of hers, and would certainly tell Alana and Zelda that.

So when she simply said, "I'll see you at the ball," to Alana and swept away, with a word to follow, Irene let herself be dragged along by Henya, thinking that she didn't know much at all anymore.

Ayo, it's me, I'm currently losing my whole mind bc of a French kids show so yeah *peace signs* it's really great over here. Lmfao.

Enjoy the chapter, and I'll see y'all later!