3: Run
Another week had passed, time ticking by with an agonisingly slow pace, as the Princess took to waiting for the opportune moment to arise. She had whittled down the schedule of the sentries to within two minutes accuracy now, even able to identify which creatures took which shifts.
A changeover was soon to occur as Zelda paced her chamber patiently, mentally tracking the countdown as pointed ears perked to the sound of any movement below—Iron Knuckles, as she knew them, were the hardest to slip by. Thankfully, they were also the creatures she had become most familiar with. One in particular was tasked with checking on her periodically, having narrowly missed the Hero and the Twili whilst on his rounds once before, though the two stationed outside the stairwell were varied and swapped around often. This included when she bathed.
But they were all slow, and heavy armour gave no advantage against a nimble opponent. More than that, their eyesight was not quite as keen as their hearing; this she knew by one failed attempt, followed by watching through the crack in the lower doors.
A rat had once run by unnoticed, scurrying close to the feet of what it thought to be statues, until a squeak had set them into surprised motion to seal the rodent's fate with a boot.
Her failed attempt at escape had come early in the piece, only days into her capture. Boldly, she had slipped through the doors of the bathing chambers, seizing the opportunity when she found herself unguarded for the first time. She hadn't noted the odd absence of surveillance within the upper floors at that point, desperately fleeing down the first flight of stairs she could in nothing but a towel. None had truly thought her foolish enough to attempt such a daring sprint, but when the Princess soon found herself surrounded within the grand foyer, it became apparent why.
Since then, she had been confined solely to the tower, instead brought up a wash basin for her troubles. The security on the upper levels had been increased as well, but Zelda had gleaned enough—the ground floor was the most heavily patrolled to prevent entry or exit of the castle, but a jaunt within the castle itself was certainly possible with good timing and ample stealth.
Over the course of the week she carefully had planned such absconding, troubled by the Gerudo's attention thrice more since first he had appeared in her mirror.
His second visitation had been a scathing one that had left her confidence well and truly rattled, in which Zelda learned of the cruelty his words were capable. The third had been a battle of wits that seemed oddly sporting in nature at first, only to devolve into a bitter series of aspersions cast between them, cut short as he vanished from the glass to leave her fuming and unable to vent. The fourth had been much like the first, civil and high handed as they gauged the other carefully and worked to decipher tells and bluffs, mapping the wavers of their voices and the glances of their eyes in order to read the secrets in them.
He was a difficult man to interact with, and the Princess found he had a knack for creeping under her skin and stirring up a whirlwind of emotional turmoil within. She did her best to hide such affects from him, though she had come to loathe the mirror that once brought her subtle comfort.
Even the habit of talking to herself had to be held in check now, for at any moment she could turn to find him smirking in the glass, privy to every word of it. She had found—much to her chagrin—that the Gerudo was able to turn such private thoughts against her whenever he did catch them, possessing a skill for it she had never witnessed in another.
Though she didn't like to admit it, Ganondorf was indeed slowly chipping away at her resolve, though she guessed this was one of his objectives. She needed something to bolster her defences, and privately, she yearned to one day leave him just as shaken from a conversation with her.
With the evidence of her inability to act splayed out before her every time Zelda gazed upon the light of day, and the knowledge that it was he who wrought such chaos, it was little wonder the Princess had grown desperate to return the blows in any way she could.
And determined not to play a losing hand, she readied her first shot to be fired.
Any minute now, she told herself patiently, counting the seconds to the click of her heels as she paced beside her doors, watching them with hawklike precision.
Three hours was all she had. If she missed her opportunity to return before a meal was brought up to an empty chamber, it would give the game away. The halls saw double the guards at night, and so this was her only opportunity—unable to time her waking and with only the first swap to start her count by, it was the best chance she would receive.
As she listened for the shift of metal greaves, Zelda ran over the course she would take to the royal archives, inspired by the paths she'd taken as a wayward child while avoiding the most boring of her tutors. She was unsure of the patrol routes between her tower and the destination in mind, but that fact simply couldn't be helped, and the Princess had thought of several places to hide along the way if need be.
With any luck, it'll be just the same as skipping arithmetic, she thought with a small smile, pausing as she heard some movement echo faintly through the stairwell. Slipping through the gap, she took a moment to steel herself at the top of the stairs, kicking off her heels and holding her skirts high. Here we go...
The Princess descended the flight quickly, padding silently around curving brick until she stood ready beside the iron doors; bars to her prison. Pointed ears twitched as they strained to hear, pleased as she found silence beyond, and cautiously Zelda moved to push one side open with only the slightest creak. Fingers curled tightly into the fabric of her dress, her heart racing as she drew up the courage to lean forward through the gap. Sending a wary glance down the corridor—to the left, to the right—finally, a maddened smile slowly crept its way across her icy lips with the desperate glee for freedom only captives could know.
Gone; nothing but torchlight dimly flickering against the walls as she dared to pass the threshold and step onto the red carpet runner she recalled, squeezing through the doors without hesitation to push them closed.
With another frantic scan of the hall, the Princess would duck with an awkward bound toward the darker side of the brickwork, haphazardly bunching up her skirts and working to tie them into a steady knot by her upper thigh. Pulling a ribbon from her brassier, it would be held between her teeth as she readied the fabric, twisting it in such a way as to keep while she moved before tying it securely in place for good measure.
One more paranoid glance, up the hall and back again in the direction she'd head, and without any sign of the new guards as yet, that was all the prompting Zelda needed.
She ran.
Slender legs were swift, bare feet beating along the carpet like a drumroll as the world blurred around her with liberties forgotten and a speed even the Princess had come to doubt in herself. The dimly lit brickwork of her home flashed by with fleeting bursts of warmth where torches sat, the end of the hall coming to meet her with blood thumping in pointed ears. The floor simply moved beneath her in a way that was beautiful to her eye, the castle seeming to fluidly shift around her in a frantic lapse of order as—finally—she rounded the awful corner to leave that tower behind.
A feeling of exhilaration swept her each time her feet hit the ground, barely able to fathom it for so long spent locked away—not only within this occupation, but for the majority of her life. Bound up in restrictive movements labelled graceful, stifled and stilted to walk with decorum; trained to walk burdened by six books while straight backed as a lady should.
Zelda had not truly known such freedom since she was but a child, bolting away from her nursemaids or her lessons, and it came a shock as to how long ago that life suddenly seemed.
How long ago since I have run like this...!
The very thought split her mouth into a grin, panting breath staggered with silent laughter—she did not deny the fact, were she to let it slip, the guards would first think a mad woman had slipped into the castle from an asylum, rather than know it to be her.
They would likely not guess the agile streak of colour was her either, if she crossed one to bolt past and leave them blinking in bemusement.
Another corridor was claimed, and Zelda felt—in some small way—she had regained these little pieces of her castle as they were left in her wake, fingers clutching the knotted ball of her skirts as she moved. Suits of armour flew by as streaks of silver, saluting her as she went. Tapestries and crests carried the dusty smell she had known all her life, bringing her back to this place in spirit.
Flashes of bold reds and regal blues, ornately carved doors and the weapons of war veterans proudly displayed upon the walls and within glass cases. Portraits of her ancestors, framed to live on within silvers and golds, all proudly smiling down at her with hope as she went by. She was home again, away from the damask and dark chamber that had held her seemingly so far from the rest of this place.
Caught up in it all, carelessness threatened to get the best of her, the last corner conquered between herself and her destination to throw the Princess out into the open. She didn't seem to register him at first, as bold and tall as the statues gracing her halls, but when he moved reality came crashing down upon Zelda's reveries once more.
She came to such a forceful halt her feet burned to skid along the runner, nearly bunching it beneath to topple her as arms flew wide in panic, wavering to aid awkward balance upon her toes. Crystalline eyes were wide as she froze, like a field rabbit staring down the bolt of a crossbow. Lungs ached for the sudden lack of breath as she held it desperately, unwilling to make even the slightest of noise—the thing had its back to her as yet, iron greaves trudging slowly along with a metallic sound she knew all too well.
A frantic glance to the left eyed the nearest suit of armour to her, only a few feet away, before snapping back to the Iron Knuckle in her path. Timidly, the Princess would lean, taking a tentative first step toward it and overly cautious—they may be slow to see, but they were certainly not deaf.
It was a small miracle the creature had not been alerted to her already, caught in some homesick daydream as she had allowed herself to be.
Cringing to suppress a squeak of unease, Zelda made haste, scurrying toward the shadow of the statue as if leaping back from a flame. The steel was cold against the nape of her neck as she all but collapsed to crouch there behind it, hugging trembling knees close to her chest with her back flush against metal plate. Unable to hold it any longer, a sharp exhale left her with a shudder, blown through pursed lips.
Far too close. Far, far too close. Din sear it all, there would be somebody posted right outside the doors...!
Willing herself to look, the Princess would nervously shift to peer past the statue's leg, studying the beast from afar. Bulky lines boasted muscle the likes of which she knew only Ganondorf possessed besides, an imposingly large axe sheathed across his back to glint menacingly within the torchlight. A two handed weapon that could cleave horses in battle with ease as they rode, let alone her own slender flesh; rending bones like brittle twigs left out too long in the sun.
The beast's helmet shifted, and odd though it was, he seemed to be staring up at a landscape of Eldin. It caught the Princess with some surprise to find such creatures capable of a taste for art—or perhaps, simply boredom. Then again, there was no evidence as to these things being without sentience, she supposed, and their roles as watchmen did stir her to wonder.
Perhaps they were not as closely tied to the darkness they served as she had previously thought?
But pushing aside such pondering, Zelda's gaze shifted past the guard quickly. Just beyond him, pristine mahogany doors sat carved to bear the royal crest, betraying the grand archives nestled achingly close behind—she could very nearly catch a whiff of parchment from here, her goal was so close...
Shutting her eyes and moving back into her sitting position, she let slip and irritated sigh to pinch the bridge of her nose. The boot falls ceased, and it was clear this thing was simply idle, strolling about and biding its time while on duty. She felt certain this was the Iron Knuckle's post.
Her mind turned quickly for a solution to her predicament as the Princess allowed her head to fall back and rest against the armour, heart sinking as she felt her opportunity slowly slipping away. A small flinch of discomfort came of it though, when something sharp dug into the back of her scalp, and as Zelda drew away from it to frown and rub the offended spot, an idea soon graced her.
A dagger hang at the hollow soldier's side, small and ceremonial though it was.
With a blink, the Princess offered the weapon an incredulous squint, twisting to run her finger along the blade—blunt, as expected. Not that she had been foolish enough to truly consider fighting her way into the libraries, but at this point, anything was better than returning to her tower without the best effort made.
Another glance to the beast confirmed his distraction with the painting still, and with wisdom enough to aid her cleverness, slender fingers would wind around the dagger's grip to slowly pull it free. Leaning to crawl, she stretched herself as close to the edge of the hall as she could without leaving the shadow, angling her aim around the corner. A few bobs of her hand to steady the course were taken slowly, a prayer sent with the blade is it was loosed from her fingers to skitter into the darkness from whence she came with an audible set of clanking.
Within the blink of an eye Zelda had reared back to pin herself up against the metal once again, cringing for the attention she knew it would draw—that it must draw—and hoping it would not be her undoing. She heard the grunt of surprise behind her, and the shifting of iron as it drew closer, a dangerous weight thumping down with every step.
Just pass, Nayru's mercy, just pass me by...
Zelda watched the Iron Knuckle's silhouette roll along the brick before her, and she would watch him turn to stride into the next corridor at last, keen to investigate the noise. He came so close she felt the breeze as his bulk passed by, crystalline eyes shut tight in hope. The guard was quicker in his pace, seemingly eager to find a highlight to his day, but again the Princess found little time to wonder of the true nature such beasts may hold as he disappeared behind brick.
It took most of her willpower to thaw herself from the frosty trepidation that stuck her there, but pushing herself up upon bare feet, she would launch herself from the statue's side and tear toward the doors with abandon. She did not look back, barely opening her eyes enough to judge the distance travelled as her world focussed desperately upon the brass handles before her. Shaking hands shot to them before she had even stopped, her weight thrown forward as the latch came free and shimmying through the tiniest gap she had left herself yet.
Zelda spun quickly on her heel to slam palms against the other side of the wood, pushing them closed without fear for the darkness that greeted her and leaning against them as if to keep a demon out. Fingertips traced brass to find the locking bar, sliding it into place quickly and hoping the guard had not heard any of it from the hall beyond. The flurry of motion ceased as the Princess finally began to back away from the entrance, panting heavily now that she had room enough to breathe.
The air was musty on her tongue, tasting of history and ink and dust as the scent of parchment grew strong, no longer a phantom to taunt her. She turned slowly, only able to make out the shapes of the aisles and a grand staircase under the unlit frame of a chandelier. Marbled stone was cold beneath her toes only a moment before the familiar feel of carpet was returned to her. In the darkness she smiled, finally allowing the laughter to slip free with both disbelief and joy, her body still twitching with adrenaline.
She had done it.
In private celebration, the Princess twirled with arms outstretched, giggling with relief as her feet took her further onto the runner. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to simply collapse onto the plush leather of a reading chair, curling up in a world that felt safe and secure; echoing her childhood. How long she had spent here, whiling away the hours with the pages of fiction and fact alike... by memory, she had already taken toward a section, plucking the lantern from the side of the shelf and twisting the flint key to spark.
A dim orange glow soon filled the aisle warmly, illuminating with promise the spines of many titles—Zelda couldn't help but indulge, running her fingers across the first few she could simply to affirm the reality of it. A greedy shiver washed through her to spread a smile across icy lips as she moved through them, eyeing off several tomes to gain some inspiration for where to start.
The Princess already knew most of what the archives offered on the Gerudo of the last era, and barring familiarity with their dialect, she knew there would be little more to find of them. As for history, she was as well versed as any scholar; more so, one might dare say. But she was aware of her grandfather's censorship surrounding the civil war, and the Great Unification. While there were certainly things history had glossed over, here was not the place to find them.
Surely, for the time spent in her family's court, there would be an autobiography of some description concerning the King of Thieves as he was known then?
But having wandered toward such a selection, Zelda found her hopes dashed. It struck her that much of the information about Ganondorf had been removed after his treasonous intentions were exposed—while once he may have garnered such an honour, having disgraced himself, it was unlikely her family would retain his memoirs in any form, if he had them.
Her father had himself been of the firm opinion that 'a criminal is unworthy of royal ink', and 'scribes are not employed to document the endeavours of scoundrels'.
How she cursed such short sightedness now.
Over the course of an hour, the Princess would pluck many tomes from the shelves, perusing each for any hint of her captor. Skimming through the pages, her enthusiasm had dwindled greatly, either turning up nothing or more of what she already knew. Footnotes, accounts, the very mention of his name would do, as long as it gave some clue as to unravel the man further.
While no sign of the Gerudo's biography or a memoir could be traced, Zelda instead began to chase his presence in the stories of others—her forth great grandfather had once claimed in him a personal friend and advisor. Entire sections had been edited or erased, where the King of the West was concerned, and she noted especially that no detail of the drafted treaties between Hyrule and the Desert remained to be examined. While Zelda was very much aware of their failure, and much of the events surrounding such things, it did strike her as odd—perhaps even a little worrying—that such a vast chunk of history had been effectively wiped from record.
She thumbed through one volume of works set in the field of anthropology, studying the Gerudo culture in a time before the war—it made many mentions of the laws concerning Kings, and the belief structure surrounding their superstitions, but the only note of Ganondorf was to made made of him in infancy.
Zelda wandered along with those works in hand, gleaning what she could of his cultural customs in curiosity. She could certainly use a few of them to her advantage, if she were sly about it—she made a mental note of bearing one's wrists as a sign of trust and a show of humility in particular. When she came across the rather sparse section on Gerudo marriages, however, her interest petered away once again; even this was of no real use to her, it seemed.
Snapping the tome shut with a sigh, she would negligently tuck it back improperly in a random shelf beside her, the sting of defeat nestling into her belly. In an old habit, she would lift her thumb to her mouth, chewing upon the nail with a pensive frown.
For one of the most infamous criminal in recent Hyrulian history, documents on the Gerudo King were almost as elusive as the drafts of an unknown playwright.
One of the richest libraries this side of Holodrum, and hardly a footnote to be found... How is that even possible?
Zelda's attention wandered to the side of her, holding up the lantern to squint at as a few familiar title caught her eye. Sidetracked, it seemed she had ghosted a path she had taken often in younger years, guided by unconscious memory toward a small collection of romantic prose. Delicate brows furrowed as an old favourite seemed to suddenly appear, gold leaf script catching the camber of the light to shimmer.
Curious as to how far her tastes had grown, and perhaps a little nostalgic, the Princess would offer the book a fey and knowing smile.
"It's been quite a long time since I saw you last, hasn't it, old friend?" she whispered sardonically, amusing herself for the moment. "Is the duke still as handsome as ever?"
With a wry chuckle to herself, Zelda would pluck it lazily from its place, eyeing the worn red of the cover as she moved to set the lantern down upon a side table. Cradling it in the crook of her arm, the pages were flipped through carelessly, her attention finally settling on a random paragraph from the middle of the tale. An airless titter hummed in her throat for what she found.
...Oh yes, I definitely spent far too much time on this garbage...
It had been secreted away between the covers of far more important tomes to her development during adolescence, driving many tutors to distraction. It was not particularly well written, but whilst young and naïve, it was hard not to indulge in even the most mediocre tales when star crossed lovers and secret trysts were to be had. It certainly brightened many hours of studying, once the Princess had outgrown her ability to 'innocently' abscond from such lessons.
Fantasies of a tall and handsome duke, dark eyes swirling with mystery, didn't exactly go astray either.
But distracted as she was by the memory of such things, gaze skimming the words with leisure, the Princess did not register the feeling of being watched. With the light source beside her, there would be no shadow to warn.
Only the heavy pressure of corded muscle brought down upon her, taking her by surprise as the print became a blur, suddenly replaced by the wood of the side table as Zelda found herself pinned against it. A gasp hitched as the air was forced from her lungs, her shock and confusion mounting as the lantern was knocked aside to the floor, clattering to douse the light and limit her vision to an unforgiving black.
The novella that betrayed her fell uselessly through limp fingers as instinct beckoned she struggle, but within seconds, she found it futile—whatever beast had caught her here was as unmovable as a mountain, and she cursed herself for not being as vigilant of the Iron Knuckle since stirring his suspicions.
Unable to do more, the Princess would allow herself to cooperate within the hold, wincing as a large hand pressed down against the side of her head. From the corner of her eye she peered blindly past her shoulder, straining in the dark to see as she attempted to lift her cheek from the table even slightly.
That was when it rumbled low behind her—a dark chuckle that chilled her very blood to hear and sent crystalline eyes wide with panic.
"Out for a late night stroll, Princess?"
He was here. He was here in the castle, and he had caught her out of her tower red handed.
Oh, Gods above, no...
Squeezing her eyes shut, she cringed for not considering that possibility before. With his only interactions with her based solely through a mirror, Zelda had divorced herself from the idea that he was actually there in person. He styled himself a King before he was a conqueror, after all, and by any standard of protocol she knew to think of, there was no reason why she would not expect him to visit her in the flesh. It dawned on her too late that this, too, was perhaps just another means to isolate her.
In fact, he had never given her any evidence to his absence at all, though circumstance would suggest it.
Her whole body tensed as she felt him shift to draw closer, his breath warm on the back of her neck, and all at once Zelda felt overwhelmed by such a presence. Were she not pinned, she would surely have recoiled, simply to put as much distance between them as possible.
"Sneaking past my guards like that..." he clicked his tongue to chide, shaking his head lightly beside pointed ear. "I suppose you think yourself clever?"
Shifting uncomfortably beneath his forearm, the Princess would lick her lips, mustering up some of the courage she'd built up against him thus far—a difficult task, now that he was in the same room. More difficult still while he held her, quite literally, in the palm of his hand.
"N-not at all..." she started quietly, so as not to reveal the quiver of fear in her voice. "They're as blind as keese. A drunken fool in the streets would have an equal chance of slipping by them."
Such bravery in the face of certain punishment was an admirable effort on her part, but as the Gerudo shifted his weight again to double the pressure, regret was all the Princess would be rewarded with. Crushing down upon her back, Zelda gasped in pain at first, and then again when she noted a new struggle to breathe at all; ragged and desperate gulps taken as her panic heightened.
"Sarcasm is an unbecoming trait for a prisoner." the smirk he wore was audible as it curved around his words, amused in truth by such a remark—the last incarnation was not such a shrew, though he found the banter a refreshing change from her ancestor's rhetoric.
Twisting thick fingers into her hair, the Gerudo relished the squeak of discomfort she made as his wrist flicked, pulling her head back in order to cut off any more smart remarks. He could hear her seething, sucking stilted breath through a clenched jaw as she struggled to hide her pain. Both were well aware that he could snap her feeble bones with a well times jerk of his hand, if he so chose, and still the woman chose to trade barbs. Her venom was not particularly potent, but even so, her gall surprised him.
Then again, he conceded privately, even tame creatures are known to bite when cornered.
Zelda did not fall for the rise. Glaring up from the corner of her eye, she found the bitter silence a more commanding expression than anything else she presently had to offer.
A scoff sounded by her ear, unimpressed, and when Ganondorf spoke again, none of his previous amusement showed. "But I will take the... constructive criticism on board. I will personally see to it that the rather egregious oversights in security are remedied immediately. Now..." he paused, bearing his teeth to hiss into her ear with a far more sinister timbre. "What exactly do you think it is you're doing so far from your tower?"
A growl crept across the tail end of it, demanding the correct answer, and the Princess did not miss it.
Biting the inside of her cheek as the first spell of dizziness began to take hold, she knew she couldn't tell him the truth—just because he wished to torment her with the sight of her fallen Kingdom, didn't mean he could not find a way to do that while she lay chained within a dungeon. Zelda's mind raced as her lungs began to burn, desperate to find a suitable reason and without any time to think of one.
Either she was going to suffocate beneath his bulk, or her spine was going to give way.
"R-reading... material..." she managed with a ragged gasp, her voice now unable to hide the strain of her position. "I've... f-finished all of the... books in my chambers, I-" a painful cough, "-have nothing m-more to... occupy myself.. with...!"
A grunt behind her signalled his disbelief, and she knew it was flimsy at best. Incredulous, the Gerudo would sneer in the corner of her vision. "You honestly expect me to believe you've gone to such length, all for something to read...?"
Cruelly, he increased the pressure even further, and a pained cry tore away from her throat as Zelda felt her shoulder pop with a sickening crack. She wasn't even sure how her body was managing to hold up under this kind of brutality, but as the man seethed through clenched teeth, through the haze she felt his grip twist forcefully into her hair.
"Do not lie to me!" there was the thunder of the storm again, riding low to shake her bones.
But Wisdom worked quickly to aid her, and the hoarse whisper left her lips before she could stop herself, utilising the only trump card she had to lend herself credibility.
"N-no, please...!" she cried out despairingly now, uncaring of how it may sound. "D-down, look down! The book I wa-as read...ing...!" the very last of the air in her left her lips with the plea, and silently she prayed that he would look. Even a moment's mercy in distraction to gulp down another breath was all she could think of now.
Still suspicious of her claims, the Gerudo's features would knit quickly into a fearsome scowl, irritated that she would think him foolish enough to buy such drivel at first. But then, as he took stock of her position and the sheer terror now unveiled in her voice, his curiosity caught him to humour her. Golden eyes narrowed, his gaze slowly dropping toward the ground in search of the book, easily spotting despite the darkness. His night vision was clearly far superior to hers, a moment of concentration revealing the title as he brought it closer with the tip of his boot.
The scowl lessened into bemusement when indeed it was nothing of concern—romantic fiction, in fact, judging by a cursory scan of open pages. To Zelda's great relief, his weight shifted enough to afford her the ability to breathe once more, though it was out of no mercy on his part. Caught off guard and distracted, Ganondorf had moved to pluck the novel up from the ground, now casually leaning upon her back rather than anything as he studied the book further.
"...She shivered under his touch, as the moonlight caught upon the chiselled frame he bore... sending shocks of desire through her as she moaned... his name..." trailing off, clearly unimpressed with her choices in literature, the Gerudo would end on a tight lipped grimace to eye her rather quizzically.
She must've been utterly daft to waste such an opportunity on trash like this.
"...Perhaps you truly have been cooped up for too long, alone." he conceded quietly, musing more to himself with a dismissive frown and snapping the offensive thing shut.
Though the Princess hoped the dark would hide it, a violent blush had taken place upon her cheeks—the tale was hardly tasteful enough for bedside drawers, let alone being read aloud for her added shame. Still, it seemed he had accepted her excuse for the moment... albeit with newly formed misconceptions.
Golden eyes swept her again, his mind still reeling to accept the absurdity of it—he surmised however that, even were this the unlikely truth, a moment of lucidity would've caught her soon enough. There were far more worrying things to find her reading within the vast wealth of knowledge these archives contained. No harm had been done as yet; simply a close call that would not be allowed for again.
Finally, after what felt like a small eternity of agony, the Gerudo's arm would shift to release her. Bereft of the strength to stand, the Princess sank instead to her knees, slipping from the table to hold her hand to her chest and pant. She could feel him watching her every move in the darkness, and without the courage to speak further, Zelda chose instead to hide her face from such scrutiny.
He had gleaned more than enough weakness from her already, she simply refused to face him—not with the pallid expression of fear currently etched into her features.
A resounding click echoed out into the air behind her; snapping fingers the only warning before the prickle of magic swept her skin. The calm was broken by a sudden roar like a whirlwind, casting the room into a blurry haze as it began to strip away, piece by piece. Shutting her eyes to the eerie vision of the world disintegrating before her, dizziness came flooding back, her bearings lost to the sound and sensation as nausea stirred in her stomach.
Then all at once the silence returned, and she grew aware of stable ground beneath her knees. Lashes fluttered open to adjust to brighter surrounds, the scent of parchment stolen to be replaced with dank brickwork and an icy chill. She needn't even look around to recognise it, realising she had been returned to the tower.
The heavy sound of a boot stepping forward behind her drew a small flinch before a negligent toss cast the novel into her vision, skidding to a halt before her as its pages settled open.
"Keep the spoils of your effort." he rumbled richly with a wave of his hand, apathetic as to its contents. "Rest assured, I will not be disturbing you this evening, so feel free to enjoy your... simple pleasures."
Even as he moved to leave, the heat returned to her cheeks with a vengeance as Zelda gladly counted the steps taken toward her doors. "Thank you." was all she managed in response, hastily slipping from her lips as a small squeak.
Inclining her head to watch him leave, the Princess would see him pause to rest a hand upon the handle, not bothering to look back as he addressed her once more.
"I suggest you take your time." he offered calmly, a slight accent swimming in the quiet tone. "Because the next sojourn you take to find reading material, Princess, will see you returned here without feet."
Barely able to hold it in before the latch of her doors clicked to close, shoulders slumped to release a shaken sigh as a shudder rolled freely from her abused spine. The dull ache in her shoulder would cost her the good night's rest she sorely needed after this ordeal, but glancing toward the novel, Zelda's hand shot out to snatch it up greedily. As if the familiarity she held would provide comfort, she clutched it gratefully to her chest, silently grateful for the find now that it had saved her an otherwise severe punishment.
Never in all her days had the Princess suspected her fate would ride on some worn out romantic fiction.
But with a mind still racing and a heart fast pumping in her chest, the notion brought an awful epiphany to the forefront of her thoughts...
Perhaps the fate of Hyrule could be swayed by such a thing as well.