"And a happy birthday to Her Royal Highness, Princess Zelda of Hyrule!" Father said, raising his golden glass in a toast.

"To Her Royal Highness!" echoed back every voice in the Great Hall, as the eyes of hundreds of dignitaries, knights, and servants looked at me, all smiling.

From my seat at the high table I blushed and brought my own goblet to my mouth, my hand synchronized with the movement of a hundred other hands. I smiled, savoring the taste of the wine on my lips. This was the first time I was being served alcohol with a meal, and I had been awaiting this celebratory tradition for months. The wine tasted different than I had thought, slightly bitter and biting in my mouth. But I imagined that this is what kisses tasted like—sweet and intoxicating. After I took another sip, I noticed that my hand was the last to return its drink to the table. I shuddered as the wine seemed to burn its way down my throat.

"Is this your first time drinking wine, your highness? A female voice asked from my right. I swiveled quickly in my seat, knocking my knees against the table in the process.

"Urbosa! Of course I've drank before." I said, wincing as I set my goblet down forcefully, splattering fine droplets of red wine over the white linen tablecloth. "It's so wonderful to see you!"

"Are you sure you're alright? You seem to be rather on edge."

"Oh, I suppose I'm just nervous that Father will make some embarrassing speech about me, or that he'll force me to dance with some elderly lord, that's all," I lied, offering a laugh that only accentuated my nerves. "I'm so happy you're sitting beside me, Father told me that I'd be placed next to 'an honored guest' and I was terrified, wondering who he meant."

Raising an eyebrow at me, she smiled and sipped her own drink. "That's exactly why we don't let the young vai drink in Gerudo Town. Well just be careful as to how much you … imbibe, little bird."

After dinner had finished and I had drained the goblet of wine before me, I had made my way across the red carpet and the dance-floor to the tables full of thin champagne flutes. I watched the dancers twirl about as the band played another waltz.

Two glasses of champagne had set the world spinning like petals falling in a windstorm. It was as if I were seeing the room reflected in an ornate multi-faceted mirror. The vision reflected back to me danced with colors and lights, in a hazy glow of warmth and laughter. A feeling of reckless happiness bubbled within me. Even the ceremonial banners hanging above me seemed to sway and turn to the music.

Lost in this scene, I sipped at the sparkling drink in my hands. I supposed I shouldn't have been drinking so much, but how often does a girl turn sixteen, after all? Seventeen might be the age of adulthood and wisdom, but sixteen seemed so much more romantic. And all the stories talked about the princesses and the heroes being sixteen. I smiled to myself, thinking of the beautiful ink drawings I had discovered in the library last week, the ones from ten centuries ago. One even showed the princess and the hero together as if they were a couple. I took another sip. I desperately craved to live in one of those paintings, and be a part of a fairy-tale romance. How I wished I was standing next to some handsome hero! I scanned the room, as if looking for the hero to appear, but no strapping young figure moved toward me. I was still alone. The dancers continued circling oblivious to me and my feelings.

Overcome by a sudden sadness, I took another sip. I felt the champagne bubbles migrate into the tips of my fingers. Although I had never drank alcohol before I had read up on all of its effects earlier this week. One dusty leather-bound book in the library assured me that I shouldn't be worried until the room started spinning or I couldn't stand by myself. I closed my eyes, feeling myself sway, imagining the green-clad hero to take me in his arms and twirl me across the polished stone floor.

My reverie shattered as I teetered on my feet and my eyes flickered open. I steadied myself and noticed the hazy crowd growing more distinct as a young man with pale hair and the red robes of a court artist approach my secluded corner. He bowed to me. My heart began beating faster. Could this be my chance at romance?

"Your highness, would you do me the honor of letting me lead you through the next dance?" The man, not more than twenty years old, spoke with a poetic, lilting cadence, almost as if he were singing.

I panicked, gripping the glass in my hand, trying to think of an excuse, any excuse to not dance immediately. "I'm greatly honored, however I'm afraid that I've already—I'm—"

"Zelda! There you are!" A familiar voice called out.

I was safe! "I'm sorry, I must go," I said, as I bowed my head slightly, trying to look apologetic as I gathered my skirt in my free hand to quickly leave. As I turned away from him, he seemed to slump forward, defeated and rejected.

"Who was that, my lady?" Urbosa asked, suddenly appearing besides me, sipping at an amber colored drink garnished with fruit.

"Some court artist whose name I can't place. He had just asked me to dance and I was too scared to accept him."

Urbosa nodded. "And why did you do that? He looked like quite the handsome young Sheikah voe."

"Urbosa! I care about more than looks—and actually, that's exactly why I refused him. I hate the thought of embarrassing myself in front of someone as coordinated and graceful as him. It's not that I'm a poor dancer. In fact, I rather enjoy dancing. But I loathe the thought of dancing in front of a room full of dignitaries, I'm sure I'd make a fool of myself!"

"I'm sure you would be a fine dancer, Zelda. And if you're so scared of anyone asking you, I'll stand guard beside you and scare off any voe who even looks at you."

"Thank you," I murmured into my drink, "I'd greatly appreciate that." Yet part of me knew that I was hoping another young lord would approach me.

"But why don't you sit down at one of these tables," Urbosa asked, gesturing behind me with a look of concern on her face.

"I'm plenty fine standing," I said, looking back toward the dancefloor and gesturing grandly. "I'd much rather be closer to the dancefloor, just to hear the orchestra better. Its so rare I get to hear music like this!"

I smiled and again felt my head tilt about in time to the downbeat of the violins. The room spun with me, as I watched the Sheikah and some finely dressed woman circle each other in the Quadrilles. He had no trouble finding another dancing partner. Every couple looked so elegant; each woman's skirts floating and fluttering above the gleaming wood floor made them look like flowers gliding on a river. The music swelled and I couldn't help but hum along to the lilting waltz, tilting my head into a daydream. I imagined myself dancing as elegantly.

But as the room continued to spin, faces swirling past me as they blurred into a mobius strip of wrinkled faces and hungry eyes, the motion suddenly stopped. I saw a face in the crowd, just a glimpse of vibrant eyes and a young face obscured by the dancing couples who were now twirling around each other. This face alone seemed stationary, as if it were carved marble, a statue undisturbed by the current buffeting it. And I couldn't help but stare at this face. I craned my head as a couple began to dance right in front of me. I stood on my tiptoes and I could finally catch another glimpse of his face—his sharp jawline and piercing eyes that focused intently on the man beside him who he was talking to.

"What are you looking at, your highness?" Urbosa's voice with its touch of humor startled me. Was my staring really so noticeable?

"Urbosa! I was just watching the dancers, they're all so lovely, aren't they?" I said, once again finding myself defensive.

"Ahh, you were just looking at the dancers?" she inquired, smirking. "I know that look, that's the face all the young vai get when they've seen a voe they admire."

"Is it really that obvious?" I asked nervously, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed my staring.

"It always is," Urbosa said with a motherly smile.

Well, if I were to be embarrassed, I might as well take advantage of her knowledge.

"Urbosa, who is he?" I asked, gesturing my champagne flute to the right while still staring at the young golden-haired boy who stood across the crowded dance floor. I sighed as some champagne sloshed out of the glass onto the floor. Why was I suddenly so clumsy?

"Lord Hickaly?" she responded absentmindedly. "He's one of the diplomats to Necluda."

"He's that young? He looks barely older than me!" I exclaimed, as I frantically checked my skirt to ensure that the champagne hadn't stained the deep blue silk. Thankfully, it and the white flowers adorning the top of my dress were unstained.

"No, he must be around seventy, he's got a granddaugh—who are you talking about Zelda?"

But I had already stopped listening to her and had begun to glide toward the young man who definitely wasn't Lord Hickaly, depositing my glass on a nearby table.

"Zelda! Where are you going? Maybe you should sit down—how much champagne have you had anyway?!"

"I'm going over there myself to get a better look at him," I said loudly, turning around to face her. "It's rare I get to meet any handsome man my age, Urbosa!"

Scared that Urbosa was going to chase after me, I quickly skirted past a group of Rito women in richly woven shawls and began to weave my way through the crowd hugging the dance floor.

"Watch out, your highness!" I heard Urbosa call. She must have seen who I was walking toward because I heard snatches of a name and a title, "That's Master—he's the—Guard!"

But I was undeterred by the voice of caution, I had to get close to him! Surely this would be my only chance of a fairy-tale romance tonight. I imagined this young attractive lord bowing to me and whisking me away into the rose-filled gardens where we would dance underneath the stars and fireflies, without the crowds watching us.

"Your royal highness!" a voice from my left exclaimed as a Goron suddenly stepped into my path unexpectedly. I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the crinoline underskirt of my ball gown. Curse these fancy dresses!

As I struggled to regain a steady footing the world blended into a cacophony of concerned yells.

"Princess!"

"My Lady!"

I teetered backwards, the haze of wine evaporating in a sudden jolt of terror.

I was going to fall.

The world seemed to freeze, my terror elongating beyond the moment into an eon of anxiety. I realized again that I was about to fall—at my sixteenth birthday banquet. In front of the whole kingdom, in front of father. I shut my eyes. I was about to hit the floor, I was falli—

A hand on my back stopped my descent.

I opened my eyes hesitantly and squinted at the shadow obscuring one of the chandeliers.

It was him!

It was the man—well a boy, really—who I had been staring at, his blue eyes now staring at mine. He was a Royal Guard, I could see his clothes now, as his hand gently supported me upward until I was standing.

I stepped slowly back from him and paused to look at him fully. The polished white leather boots that reflected the chandeliers. The emblem of the triforce gleaming on his chest. The beret atop his long golden hair. A ceremonial saber hanging at his left hip. Each of the long white gloves. The way he stood, his back straight as if he were about to salute the King.

We stood, transfixed, as if the warm glow of lights and fading music was as thick as amber. I felt the room's eyes upon me, the silence deafening me with the force of an explosion within my ears. For the second time tonight I was speechless. Although I tried to move my mouth, no expression of gratitude came out, not even a single word of thanks.

He bowed. The deep bow of a Royal Guard to a monarch. I heard the faintest echo of a whisper, almost an apology to me. He extended a white gloved hand, as if offering to guide me away from the gathering crowd.

I took his hand.

A sudden loud voice cracked the anticipatory silence. "A Birthday Dance for the Princess of Hyrule!"

The silence shattered, and with it my spirits. My eyes widened in sudden fear.

What were the musicians thinking, what was that announcer thinking? They couldn't think I had approached the guard to dance with him? I panicked. There was no way the Guard could dance. I certainly knew that we didn't train the Royal Guards to dance. And there was no way I could dance with him, not in front of all these people.

I glanced around, my eyes searching. Perhaps there was some other couple, another princess perhaps. Perhaps Chief Urbosa, or one of the Zora were nearby. Or perhaps there was a Lord near me, a cultured man who's invitation I hadn't seen. But the crowd around me had suddenly vanished and the only person remotely near me was the knight, who still stood in front of me.

And then I looked back at him. His face was nearly emotionless.

But somehow he wasn't walking away with a blush on his face. He stepped closer. I could already hear the first notes of a cello, an introduction of sorts intended to introduce the song. But I couldn't remember what type of dance it was supposed to be.

My confusion must have showed on my face because I heard another whisper, the faintest voice. "It's a traditional waltz, your highness. Step back with your right."

I gasped. He knew how to dance?

My gaze flicked upward into his face as I searched for reassurance. His blue eyes seemed to smile at me.

He again offered his left hand to me, and I placed my gloved hand into his. I gasped slightly, my lips parting soundlessly, as he placed his right hand on my waist. His hand felt soft and warm, although his gloves and the layers of my corset deadened the feeling. Although I was shocked to be so suddenly close to him, I remembered that I wouldn't want to fall again. I quickly grabbed at my skirt, gathering the dress and its many underlayers into my hand.

He nodded at me, his beret jilting forward on his head, as if cuing me to begin.

The violin began to sing, joined with a folk instrument, probably a Rito accordion. The band was playing some lovely old folk tune, an air I didn't recognize. Why weren't they playing some royal waltz for me, something traditional for a monarch or a young debutante?

But my questions evaporated as he stepped forward with his left foot and I remembered to step back on my right. The diagram explaining the waltz appeared in my head. The basic form is just a box, Zelda, a box that opens up into a chain that turns to the right and the left. All I need to do is … follow the movements of his frame and I should be alright! The boy was a good leader, guiding me closer to the middle of the floor without unnecessarily jerking me about. I tentatively continued to move my feet after his, yet he never placed a wrong step.

Then the second violin joined and I realized that this was a song of romance. The orchestra was singing now, as we circled again. My feet began to remember the rhythm and I started to relax. I had danced a waltz hundreds of times before. Yet why had the musicians chosen such a passionate tune?

My head tilted and my eyes closed as he led us into a turn, something my dance instructor would have called a natural fleckerl. The layers of my skirt fluttered about as we spun together. And then I turned right into the glowing dream that I had dreamt up a few minutes ago. The hall around became a picture book and I was properly the Princess, dancing with a royal knight. I imagined the entire hall staring at us, praising our dancing and exclaiming just how magnificent our waltz was. The white fabric roses on my shoulders fluttered, as if a summer breeze were lifting them and teasing out a perfume that filled the air. The champagne returned, bubbling within in me and lifting me heavenward. I felt as if I were smiling. Then I realized that I was smiling, beaming at the boy in front of me, and grinning so that the entire world could see my happiness.

A piano began to glide, the pianist passionately playing descending scales, and then the Guard held out his arm to spin me about. I twirled, my dark skirt swishing about my legs and fanning out in the air. When he pulled me back to him, my face close enough to his to make out the freckles dusting his nose, I even noticed his pierced ears. Yet he still hadn't smiled. I was hoping that he would smile for me. I was almost nervous. Did he think I was such a poor dancer that he could not even smile at me?

The brass instruments joined and suddenly the folksong become one of heroism and adventure. As we continued to turn about the dance floor, I caught a glimpse of my father's face. His face was neutral, yet he was nodding almost approvingly, with a twinkle in his eyes. Something about being watched made me again realize the placement of the Guard's hand on my waist and my heart seemed to flicker like the candles in the chandeliers.

Then the music blossomed into one of the old ancient hymns. I recognized it as the song they used to honor the princesses and heroes of old. For a moment I was one of the princesses of old and this song of grandeur was about me. I was blessed by the goddesses, and in this sparkling image I was dancing with one of the legendary heroes, one of the green-tunic-clad drawings I had just discovered.

I turned my attention to my partner's face again, but his eyes betrayed no emotion; he seemed to concentrate solely on leading us across the dance floor. In spite of this I smiled, again. I was dancing with a boy and he looked so serious as if he was in the middle of fighting a fearsome mountain Hinox. I couldn't help but laugh.

My laugh must have released some inner tension within him, because, for the briefest moment he smiled, a smile that illuminated his eyes and set them sparkling with all the colors of the kaleidoscopic champagne bubbles and the ornate gowns around me. His eyes were the most lovely vibrant shade of blue I had ever seen.

Then the tune hanged again and the song grew somewhat dramatic. The violins began to sing long, legato phrases as we swirled around the dance floor. And there was something heartbreaking about this new melody, something tragic. The fiery feeling of tears began to burn my eyes. I didn't want this song to be about bitter sweet love!

But it was, as I heard the violins fade into silence and the dance slowed to stop. I savored the last feelings of his hand in mine and his arm on my waist. Only now was I realizing just how warm his presence was and how silent his footfalls on the floor were. He spun me away from him so that I could courtesy to the musicians, as he bowed to them. A sudden burst of applause erupted from the crowd. Whether it was for us, or for the band, I could not tell. But the clapping continued as I turned to face my dance partner.

For a second our gazes met. He let go of my hand and bowed to me, a deep bow. Again, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Remembering my place, I inclined my head forward in a royal bow, smiling graciously. But he must have interpreted my nod of acknowledgement as one of dismissal. He turned, the swish of his tunic still audible above the awed silence of the hall. I stared at him, almost raising my hand to stop him, asking him to stop, to turn around, to talk to me.

But I was left alone. He disappeared into the crowd. I would be acting out of turn to chase after him; I was still a Princess, regardless of how I felt.

As the crowd slowly returned to the dance floor, some murmuring to me just how lovely my dance had been, I realized I was blushing. Even my neck was flushed from the exertion of the dance and the proximity of such an attractive partner. For a shining moment I had lived in a fairytale. I knew I would be reliving the dance tonight before bed or anytime I re-read the old fairy tales and legends.

"And I thought that you didn't like to dance?" Urbosa asked sarcastically as she approached me.

"I—I didn't. Not until know, at least," I said breathlessly. "But who was that, Urbosa?"

"You haven't heard the stories?" She whispered excitedly, almost furiously into my ear. "He's famous in the castle, among all the Royal Guards. He's the youngest Royal Guard in memory!

"I've heard rumors, but father tries to keep me away from castle gossip. He doesn't let me be around the guards or the soldiers…" I said, trailing off. But then I heard the rumors echoing in my brain, the whispers of a young boy who had bested royal knights at the age of four. I did not need Urbosa to continue speaking, my alcohol-addled brain suddenly remembering. I gasped. The legends had indeed repeated themselves for me. I had danced with HIM.

"That's Master Link—he's the boy who wields the sword that seals the darkness!"