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They spent the next day's dinner together, as Zelda's father would be right there, but not lunch. Link had gotten another note, and at the same time somewhat more annoyed, but he let it go when he saw her at dinner and realized how badly it was for the best. The king nodded at his daughter when she came down, smiling. "How are you feeling today, my dear?"
"I am feeling much better, Father. Thank you." Zelda smiled at him, eating small bites of her dinner. Link had eaten so much at breakfast and lunch (practice always made him ravenous) that he was no longer quite as hungry, and he picked at his meal.
The king looked between the two sullen children, and cleared his throat. "Ball tomorrow, hm?" he asked out loud, waiting for a response. Oh- Zelda had nearly forgotten.
"Yes, at the Marchioness du Celene's palace," Zelda answered.
"Oh, that's not so far, only an hour trip," the king muttered with a nod. He turned his attention to Link, who picked at the roasted potatoes on his plate and glared at them as if they'd betrayed his trust.
"Master Tolrose, because of the ball tomorrow, I hope you will not be offended that I will not require your presence in the study."
Link looked up, blinking once, twice. "Uh? Oh- no, Your Majesty, I'm not offended at all." He nodded his head. Great; he wouldn't even have that to distract him. The king was rather uncomfortable with all this dead silence around the table, and he made no complaint when Link and Zelda left early, but separately.
Zelda lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She should have done it days ago; put a stop to their kisses immediately after the ball. Foolish and stubborn, that was what she had been. They would be strung together at the ball, no doubt, but she believed that she could keep herself distant but civil. Link would understand. She closed her eyes and rolled over, forcing herself to go to sleep. It wouldn't do to look exhausted.
-
For about ten minutes the next day, Link sincerely wished that there was a ball every night, so that he would always have a distraction. Once practice finished, he was corralled and herded over to one of the private baths, where they attacked his sweaty hair and skin until it was pink (his skin, not his hair, but his scalp certainly felt raw).
While they attacked Link like a pack of harpies, Zelda was being woken up. She'd slept very little through the night, her nerves ringing like keys. She'd not had a premonition, but there was something of dread in her whenever she thought about the ball that was mere hours away. She wasn't sure why, either. The last ball had gone off without many hitches (except for Ruto's big mouth), why would this not be the same? She took her time getting ready, trying to soothe her anxieties while her hair was washed, dried, brushed, and set. The rhythm of the brush through her hair, usually quite relaxing, was not helping. She drank some tea and ate some toast, her stomach jumping awkwardly inside of her. Her helpful ladies did their best, using their knowledge of her tastes to select the hairdo (back from her face, but down, and gentle, curled waves throughout), the accessories (a three-stranded pearl choker in pristine white, attaching a dark green cameo to the front enclosure, and matching pearl earrings), and argued over her makeup amongst themselves (green shadow would be too harsh around her eyes, they agreed, but a soft pink or dark red lipstick was the great divider). Zelda twisted a thin gold band she'd placed on one finger, trying to relax through the mindless act.
It finally took the act of putting Zelda in her corset that brought her to rest. They tightened it as far as they dared, until Zelda gasped and the satin creaked against her straining ribs. The restriction bounded her nerves, holding her in place. Zelda closed her eyes and put one hand to her stomach, ignoring her ladies when they asked if it was far too tight. It held her together, and she wondered if her frantic state was because she was no longer allowing herself to be close to him. For her, the rest of the day went quite smoothly.
Link had tried, to the best of his ability, to explain that he'd no interest in having his hair styled for him, but the maids working on his look had insisted. If Link had any hopes for holding a continuing career in the castle, he'd better start giving in to their demands and resigning himself to the fact that he couldn't always have control. He tried not to linger on Zelda, sitting in her tower rooms. He poked the tip of one thumb continually with the point of an earring he was to wear later to endure the meticulous styling of his hair. They didn't even bother trying to get him in makeup this time.
The two of them dressed in their separate rooms at the very last minute, Link adjusting his coat over his shoulders and finding himself impressed with the effect. He thought, really, that he almost looked a bit sinister, his hair parted to one side and combed back, greased down with light wax. The embroidery around the edges of his coat was heavy with tiny pearls, and it was lined in a brilliant white satin. He looked nothing like himself at all when he looked in the mirror. Where was the country boy? The hardened warrior? He looked like the Viscount's son he'd been pretending to be, and he grasped, truly, that he didn't want a royal life at all.
Zelda was just as astonished at the effect of her clothing. The cut of the neckline was almost dangerously low, but she had no matching shawl to offer modesty, and those had gone out of fashion a few years since, anyway. Was this the queen she was to be? Aloof, alone, high above her subjects? She was striking, sure, and the clothing was beautiful, but… "Do I look.. cold?"
"No, Your Highness, the dress is lined. You actually look quite flushed. Do you feel cold?" asked a maid, not entirely understanding her question. Zelda nodded. Perhaps this was her premonition; that she needed compassion and warmth. She shook her head to herself, and headed downstairs to where the carriage waited.
Link was already there, and waiting, and he nodded to Zelda once when she entered. They carefully avoided each other's eyes as they headed to the carriage, followed by a single, apathetic guard who would sit in with them.
-
It was a very long, silent hour. Zelda and Link stared out the windows at the twilit landscape, and Zelda's nerves were starting to twist and wriggle again. She jiggled one foot nervously, her legs crossed at the ankle. Link only felt bored, and already uncomfortable in his clothing. Mostly because of how he'd looked; he was unnerved at the severity of his appearance. Almost like he could be cruel or hurtful to those who did not deserve it. He did not fall asleep this time, so he watched as the manor crawled into view over the horizon; all lit up like a chandelier.
They scrambled out of the carriage once it had settled to a stop, and from outside Link could hear the shrieks and laughter from inside the massive house, along with the faint strains of music. He only hoped he would not be bullied into remembering the dance steps he had, most certainly, forgotten. Zelda had to nudge him with her elbow to remind him to take her arm before they headed into the party.
-
It was cacophonous once inside the house. Women and men, already overcome with strong drink, screamed and laughed and ran after each other through the house. To Link's surprise, most of them were wearing masks. He looked at Zelda in surprise, and she shrugged in response. To their relief, the masks were handed out at the main door to the ballroom, packed nearly to the brim with people. He looked over, and Zelda was already slipping her mask over her eyes. Link followed suit, and they made their way carefully inside, prowling at the edges of the dancing mass together. At the opposite end of the room from the doors were the music players, a singing girl in a flashy, glittery dress and the band that played the accompanying instruments.
Link stared at the singer, thinking he recognized her wild red hair, and when he looked round to ask Zelda if she knew who the girl was, he found to his surprise that Zelda was gone. In a panic to keep sight of her, he looked over the crowd, standing as high as he could. But the densely packed collection of people gave him little of a view, and in desperation he pushed himself into the throng.
"Zelda?" he called, looking around. His voice was swallowed up by the cheering, talking crowd. Girls he did not recognize grabbed his hands and danced with him, pressing their bodies against his.
"Relax," one shouted in disdain as he tried to pull away, "it's a party!"
They pulled and pawed at him, laughing as he got away. There was a different feel to this ball. It was louder, bigger, and wilder, the people far more bold with each other. Link wriggled his way free of the dancing collective, and headed out of the ball room quickly, roaming through the rest of the house. It was as extravagant as the last place; solid wood furniture, polished to a gleam, scattered throughout the house, hand-cut crystal chandeliers with long candles made of quality wax burning merrily away, rugs as thick as cream draped over the wooden floor. He looked in rooms, but very sparingly. Most were empty or locked, a few were home to card games, and even two he caught partiers in compromising and embarrassing situations.
Dejected, and finding himself wandering in circles, Link returned to the ballroom, finding the buffet table and finding himself a drink, catching sight of Zelda again almost immediately. "There you are!" he cried, surprising himself with his loudness.
Zelda looked up, holding a small plate with strawberries and other foods. "You didn't hear me?" she replied. "I thought I warned you I was heading over here…"
"Ah, I must've not heard."
They stared at each other for a second, and awkwardly, Zelda took a thin glass and had herself a helping from the bright red punch, laced with brandy. She took a careful sip, and moved away from the table so as not to impede a line. Link selected small sandwiches and took a glass of the punch for himself before following her over to a few chairs scattered carelessly about at the edge of the dance floor. Zelda stretched out in her chair, lingering over her food.
They did not speak much, their silence stretching, growing, and any chance at conversation only grew more awkward by the second. Link said nothing when Zelda finished her meal and stood, heading into the crowd to find someone to dance with. He didn't eat much, and he did drink quite a bit, and when a girl he didn't recognize pulled on his hands, he stood up and went to dance with her.
-
Link did not see Zelda again for a very long while. He danced with other people, but not often, and managed to pull away after one dance with each of them. This wasn't anywhere near as fun as the last ball had been, and it was taking its toll on his patience. He pulled away from a repeat dancing partner reaching for his hand, pausing a moment by the refreshment tables and grabbing a fresh glass of punch. He headed out into the rest of the house, letting its quiet settle over him. It wasn't all silent; soft laughter echoed from other rooms, and there was still the muffled beat of the room he'd just left. Link picked a direction, and started walking.
Zelda hadn't been dancing for the last hour; she'd left the dance hall and moved on, heading into the first room with a card game and settling down at the table when the next round began. She was also steadily winning, to her delight, and the drinks were cold and delicious. They were kept in steady supply near her hand, and she flipped her cards quickly, grinning as she backed her opponents into a corner.
But by the time her eighth or so drink rolled around, the edges of the cards were fuzzy, the room was growing hot, and she was starting to lose again. When she lost the next round, she put the last of her cards down and rose, unsteadily on both legs. "Well, I think I know when to take my losses," she managed, clutching the edge of the table and leaning to one side. "Thank you for the lovely time." She nodded her head slowly, sloppily, in the general direction of the people she'd been playing cards with, and managed to carefully pick her way to the door, leaning side to side.
She made it out the door and into the dimly-lit hallway. Zelda paused, bracing herself on the wall with one hand, closing her eyes. Even with them closed, she could feel the room leaning heavily on its right, and slowly spinning to the left, pulling her down into the epicenter. She tried to pinpoint the exact direction the music was coming from, straining her ears and making herself dizzier. With a deep breath, Zelda forced herself to turn around and thumped in that direction, bracing herself against the wall with her shoulder. The rippling texture of the wallpaper was an odd comfort under her fingertips.
The pounding beat of the music got worse, centering itself in the back of her skull. Zelda struggled uncomfortably, and an unseen lump in the carpet grabbed her foot, pulling her down onto her knees. Zelda gasped in surprise, bracing herself on her hands and opening her eyes. She stayed like that, confident if she stood up that she would surely lose her stomach. Zelda rubbed her knuckles into the thick carpet, though it burned, and took deep breaths, trying to keep herself under control. She closed her eyes again, finding it easier to concentrate when she wasn't staring at the suddenly-garish pattern of the floor.
As she focused, trying to keep herself contained, someone knelt down and put their hands under her arms, pulling her up. Zelda opened her eyes and saw Link, surprise crossing his brow as he got her to her feet. Zelda took a deep breath, reaching with her hands and grabbing his shoulders. Without words, Link helped Zelda out of the hall, and into one of the few empty rooms nearby.
-
To her infinite relief, there was a cleaned chamber pot stashed under the bed in the room. Zelda grabbed it and hid on the opposite side of the bed from Link, coughing and retching the contents of her stomach into it. Link looked down at his shoes, waiting quietly until she was done, slowly lifting herself up and wiping her mouth with the corner of a bed sheet, quietly ashamed and still half-drunk. Link headed over to her and touched her shoulder. "All better?"
Zelda nodded, putting her hands to her face. "I feel so ashamed, I cannot believe I … I let myself be so…"
Link rubbed her arm, and Zelda sat heavily on the bed, Link joining her, his arm returning around her shoulders. They sat there in silence, Zelda's hands folded in her lap, silence settling over them like a blanket.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I am sorry that I've been so cold to you."
Link squeezed her with his one arm, but did not say anything. Zelda reached for his spare hand that rested on his own knee, and carefully looped her fingers with his. Link turned his head, his jaw brushing her hair as he pressed his lips to her temple. "I miss you," he whispered in a low voice, his tone going rough around the edges. "I miss our lunchtime talks, I miss walking the maze with you—
Zelda interrupted him, tears in her eyes. "I yearn for you," she spoke, not knowing she would say such a thing. They fell silent, and slowly, Link turned and maneuvered so that he was stretched out over the bed. Zelda moved to her back and turned towards him, curling into Link's outstretched arms and tucking her head under his chin. They wrapped themselves in their arms, pressing together and fitting as neatly as puzzle pieces.
-
Unexpectedly, the two of them fell asleep. When Zelda woke again, much more sober and feeling all the worse for it, she was confused and lost. She extracted herself from Link's arms, grappled her way out of bed, and slipped out into the hallway. The house was quiet in that pre-dawn sort of way, and the cold sweat of dread and fear tickled on her back. She headed back into their room and half-climbed on the bed, grabbing Link's arm and shaking him. "Link! Wake up!" she hissed.
Link groaned and twitched, blinking open his eyes and staring up at Zelda. "What is it?" The urgency in her voice made him alert in very short time.
"We need to leave, now." Zelda stepped back and rushed out the door, and Link climbed off the bed, following after her. As they rushed through the house, they saw few people, all passed out in chairs or couches, some on the floor entirely, propped up against walls or each other. Zelda made it outside first, and they spied her coach, the driver and footmen hopefully inside and asleep, the horses standing as they rested, their breath foggy cloud in the grey light. Zelda approached slowly, Link behind her, and the horses snorted and stirred when they got close. Link reached out and soothed them, rubbing their muzzles, while Zelda opened the coach door and peeked in at her snoozing coachmen.
"Gentlemen," she hissed, reaching in and tapping the closest footman on the knee. He jolted awake and gasped when he realized the princess was forced to wake her own men.
"Your Highness!" he cried. This disturbed the other two, the other sleeping footman slugging him in the arm and the driver pushing his plumed hat back off his eyes. The driver gasped when he saw Zelda, and scrambled to his feet. Zelda moved out of his way, and the jostling roused the last man enough so that he realized what was going on and also got out of the way, helping Zelda and Link into the carriage. Zelda shivered and tucked in next to Link, who took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her close against him. Zelda rested her cheek on his chest and closed her eyes. She was still so very tired, and the carriage ride was on well-traveled roads, with few bumps, and gentle ones at that. The two of them went back to sleep as the sun rose over the eastern edge of the world.