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Zelda folded her hands in her lap and sat up straight, trying not to look as bored as she felt. Her throne, smaller than her father's but every bit as uncomfortable, was placed on a carpeted dais at the head of the grand hall. Even at ten, she was expected to attend court every day to learn the ways of ruling. Some days were fascinating—full of foreign dignitaries travelling to treat with Hyrule and quarrels over money or land or resources. Today was just the dull complaints of nobles and commoners alike.
A noblewoman stood before the throne, going on and on about how insulted her son was that a lady had refused his hand in marriage. Most of the court was ignoring her, talking amongst themselves instead, while the king listened in the stony silence that was famed throughout Hyrule.
"Goddesses," Impa muttered from where she stood at the arm of Zelda's throne. "This woman does not know when to quit."
"And her son was too scared to show," Zelda whispered back. "Or too embarrassed." Impa disguised her laugh as a cough.
A guard slipped inside the throne room and wove through the crowd until he reached the king. Zelda watched her father's face as the guard murmured in his ear; as usual, he didn't show any emotion in front of the court. He just nodded once as the guard departed, then raised his hand and called, "Enough."
The crowd's chattering halted, as did the noblewoman's torrent of complaints. "Your Majesty?" she floundered.
"With all due respect, Lady Beatrice, your son's rejection is not a matter of national importance. You must work out this matter on your own. Now, I must meet with our newest visitor in private."
The noblewoman gave an insolent huff and turned away with a swirl of her silken skirts, storming out of the room. The court began to follow, most of them looking relieved to be done. The king turned in his throne to look at Zelda, smiling the smile that he saved just for her. "Bored yet?"
Zelda rolled her eyes. "I was bored before we started, Papa."
He chuckled. "Such is the life of the rich and powerful."
"Your Majesty," began one of the advisors, "should Lady Beatrice be left alone? She was rather disrespectful, after all, thinking it is your responsibility to fix a teenage boy's broken heart."
The king waved his hand dismissively. "She is a possessive mother who likes to make her problems known, nothing more. She won't be any trouble. By the way, did I not say I wanted to speak to our next guest in private?"
The advisor frowned, exchanging confused glances with his colleagues. Zelda was surprised, too—her father never sent away the most prominent members of his court. As they filed out of the room, she gathered her skirts and stood from the throne.
"You may stay, Zelda," her father said. "You as well, Impa."
She settled back into her seat, thoroughly curious now. "Who is our guest, Papa?"
"His name is Ganondorf, the King of the Gerudo."
Zelda's mouth fell open in an unladylike fashion. She was about to ask more questions when the great doors swung open and a figure strode in, a long crimson cape sweeping behind him. He had the dark skin, fiery hair, and sharp nose characteristic of the Gerudo. Zelda had only met a few of his people in her life, considering how tumultuous the relations between their people were, and all of them had been women. The visitor dropped into an exaggerated bow, lowering his head dramatically before the king.
"You may rise," Zelda's father said. "Welcome, Lord Ganondorf."
The Gerudo drew himself up, his eyes scouring the room—from the tapestries on the walls to the guards, the thrones, the king, Impa. His gaze lingered on Zelda last of all, and she saw that his eyes were cool green, with something dark hidden underneath. Evil eyes, Zelda thought, and shivered. Impa laid a hand on her shoulder.
"I am pleased to be here in your glorious city, Your Majesty," Ganondorf said, his eyes finally shifting away from Zelda. "My people want nothing more than a peaceful alliance with Hyrule."
Zelda's hands tightened into fists, her throat going dry with disbelief. She looked at her father, hoping that Ganondorf was lying, hoping that he didn't truly intend to treat with this man and his band of thieves.
The king leaned forward in his throne, an amiable smile gracing his lips. That scared her even more. "Hyrule feels the same."
Ganondorf grinned back, revealing his yellowed teeth. He pinned his eyes on Zelda, and she felt very, very cold.
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Hyrule Castle was a shrunken, blurry shape in the hazy world of Zelda's dreams. She stood in the field outside of Castle Town, knee-deep in grass that whispered when the wind blew through it. Her feet were bare against the warm summer earth, reminding her of a day two years ago when she'd tried to go on an adventure.
She walked towards the drawbridge, gathering her nightgown in her hands to keep it from snagging on the stalks of grass. This is a future-dream, Zelda realized; she'd been having them for as long as she could remember. They always felt different than the normal ones—stronger, somehow. Realer. Still, there was a muted softness to them that separated them from her waking hours.
There were clouds gathering on the horizon to her left. She recalled the maps her geography teacher had pounded into her brain and realized they were to the northwest, where Gerudo Desert lay. Zelda picked up the pace, not wanting to get drenched out in the field, even if this was just a dream. The storm clouds were rolling in so quickly it was unnatural and frightening—now they looked more like fog, drifting over the hills and trees, blacking them out from Zelda's vision. The fog spilled over the walls of Castle Town, the walls that had always made Zelda feel safe, until she could no longer see the castle.
And still, the shadows kept spreading, hungry and implacable. They were coming towards her.
It's just a dream, Zelda reminded herself, but her feet were stumbling backwards anyway, and she turned and ran. The grass whipped at her arms and legs as she sped through it, catching on her nightgown, slowing her down. Her foot caught on a root, and she went down hard, earning herself a mouthful of dirt. She shot to her knees, trying to pry her foot loose, but it was too late.
The darkness swamped her, surrounded her, wiping out everything else. There was no sun or sky or Hyrule; just Zelda, whimpering as she finally tore her foot free. All around her was silence and fear and shadows. She crawled forward on her hands and knees, feeling nothing but the hammering of her heart against her chest.
"Impa!" she cried out. "Papa! Help!"
Suddenly a column light erupted in the distance, glowing a brilliant green—green like the grass and the trees of Hyrule. The shadows began to lift, falling away as the light billowed over the land and chased away the fear. And in the east, Zelda could see a figure holding aloft a shining stone, from which the light was pouring forth. Above the figure's head hovered a blue light—a fairy.
That was all she saw before the dream faded around her.
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"Please, Papa," Zelda said again, leaning forward and holding the arms of her chair tight. "Please don't treat with Ganondorf."
Her father sighed, and the way his quill scratched harshly on the parchment showed his irritation with the conversation. The wide windows of his private study filtered in morning light—Zelda loved mornings, ordinarily, but the previous night's horrors had left her drained and terrified.
"Zelda," the king began, his tone stuck somewhere between patience and annoyance, "dreams are dreams. The reality is this: fighting the Gerudo does no good for either of our peoples. Securing this alliance will save lives and resources."
"I understand that. It's Ganondorf who scares me. He is going to take over Hyrule! That's what the dream means!"
"Sweetheart, go back to bed. You shall feel better after a few more hours of sleep." He looked past Zelda to where Impa stood by the doorway, his eyes giving her an unspoken command.
Zelda twisted around in her chair to look at Impa. "Tell him," she pleaded. "Tell him that Hyrule is in danger!"
Impa dropped her hands from her hips, giving the king a short bow. "Your Majesty," she started. "Prophecy is a gift that runs deep in your bloodline. Your daughter's dreams have come to pass before. I believe that—"
"The Sheikah's duty is to protect, Impa. Not to theorize. Bring Zelda to her chambers. That is an order."
Impa's mouth was a thin, grim line. Her crimson eyes settled on Zelda's father for a long moment, some emotion shrouded within that Zelda did not understand. Eventually, she nodded and put a hand on Zelda's shoulder.
"Come, Princess," she murmured gently. "We will find no help here."
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The boy had a round face and a soft mouth, and when he spoke his voice was quiet and solemn. The fairy hovering above his shoulder did most of the talking. His forest-green clothes were rough and homespun, and his arms and legs were covered in scrapes and bruises. There was something uncertain about the way he held himself, but Zelda sensed strength and willpower in him, too.
"I am Zelda," she told him, giving him a curtsy that would please her etiquette teacher. "Princess of Hyrule. What is your name?"
"Link," he said in his gentle voice. Zelda was overwhelmed by a rush of feeling so vivid and powerful that she nearly took a step back. When she looked into his eyes, the breath caught in her throat. They were blue, as blue as the sky, as blue as her own. There was a whisper at the back of her mind of memories long forgotten, of legends and destinies, of an eternity of lifetimes spent with her soul bonded to his.
Zelda took a breath to steel herself and said, "I need your help."
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