Coin-Operated

12.0

It's a Glorious Day When Morning Comes

Barnes let Link keep the old, discarded accordion, and Ruto's monetary gift afforded us some time at an inn close to Kakariko's outskirts along the plains. When I peel back the curtain and peer out the window, I see Link down the block with the accordion in his hands and chatting up some of the locals. The accordion's worn leather case sits open at his feet with seed money and tips. Just as well. He's been avoiding addressing my growing doubts at every turn. I tug the curtains back closed, blocking out most of the sunlight and shrouded the room in darkness. I clamber back onto the bed and settle myself back on the hotel bed.

I'm not sure how I did it, but I'd somehow managed to throw us from Faron Province into Eldin. In examining my core, nothing seems out of place or strange, but I have to wonder if this is a component of the gold magic. With no answers coming to me, I've since given up on trying to follow that train of thought and instead have taken to trying to replicate the magic I produced in the woods, a feat which has proven so far to be frustrating. "Magic is intuitive," Link had said, "so it works at its best without conscious effort." I've been determined though to try and fully tap into the new magic in the days that have passed since the attack in the woods. Apart from toying with it to pass time every now and then, it has been resting untouched since the wrangling.

I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. The air flies through my nostrils, puffs up in my lungs and swirls until my chest constricts, and it's pushed back out through my mouth. With each breath, my muscles loosen a little more. First my toes, then the feet, calves, thighs. I continue this systematic release until even the facial muscles let go. The tips of my fingers hum with energy. Slowly, I will threads of magic out from my core and to my fingers. I can feel the magic's wispy fingers trying to spread out and probe the air around my hands. I manage to send the gold magic outwards a foot and a half… maybe two before the strain on my core is just too much. It thumps feebly at the exercise, constricted and tight within me, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot fully relax. The gold magic rushes back into me, and my core swells up in relief. I'm left gasping for breath.

I lay in the hotel room, just taking in all the sounds around me as my breathing returns to normal and my heartbeat falls to rest. The annoying dribble of the bathroom faucet leaking pounds in my ears. Crunchy grind of rubber tires on asphalt on the street outside. People's chatter drifts in and out in dizzying waves. Somewhere through all this white noise is that throaty accordion wailing away on a street corner.

I attempted to go to the library the day before to no avail. I'm not quite sure what I was expecting; I wasn't even able to gather the courage to even choke out a request to one of the clerks. Up and down aisles, I wandered. My fingers occasionally grazed the spines of the old books. I don't know what I expected; it should be quite understandable that there be nothing left in the library that so much as mentions magic. Even if it is a simple children's fairy tale. Everything is gone. After the magic ban, they'd held a book burning. The roar of the bonfire cackled through the radio waves and into my ears. I'm not sure what I expected. There's no hidden code or secret.

Maybe a part of me just wanted time alone.

Although I currently have my solitude, it is nothing like the comfort of lazing in Ordona's domain as the golden goat grazed by my side.

This thought jolts me up from the bed. Perhaps now is the time? Would I receive an answer finally? Something intuitively tells me that this true, and that I need to go.

I fumble with my shoes before scurrying out the door, my sweater half on. Flying out of the hotel, I barely cast the passing traffic a glance. I don't even flinch when a motorist slams on their brakes, mere inches from slamming into me. The driver shouts profanity at me from his open window, but I pay him no heed as I storm down the block my gut leading me on. "Zelda?" Link calls, but I don't even look at him once as I pass by.

Kakariko has changed since I last visited when I was young. More business have come and gone, and now empty storefronts decorate the streets. More houses have been built up, fleshing out the once fledgling neighborhoods. I take a few wrong turns here and there while I try to keep a grip on my bearings in the new constructed jungle, but my instincts tingle and help direct me where I need to go. Eventually I come towards the town's outskirts to a park where the field grass still clings on desperately. The small pond has become a popular spot for children to play since I was small, but not much else about it has changed. The water remains clear as ever, the red, muddy clay as visible as I remember through the liquid. A few children are racing boats across the pond's surface.

I settle myself in at the pond's edge after removing my shoes. The water is warm and inviting against my skin. It doesn't put off the steamy heat like the mountain's hot springs, but it's warm enough to fight off the growing cold days engulfing Kakariko. Here and there the volatile mountain sends heat our way, but soon it, too, will grow weary with winter.

The children laugh and play as if I don't even exist in their imaginary worlds until they check the time and find that they'll be late for dinner. Their feet patter away from the pond, now empty of any toys, as they race home before their mothers chastise them too much. The time I spend at the water's edge seems insignificant almost, so I do not keep track of how long I lie here. My toes prune and shrivel from the water, but I still do not move them.

In fact, I don't move at all until after the night has settled and the park has been abandoned and closed for the day. It flutters to a rest on my forehead. With my vision skewed by the angle and the shock of light in the darkness, I don't get a good glimpse of the creature basking me with otherworldly glow. It pecks curiously at my nose, and that's when I sit up, swiping at it. The large hawk skims the water's surface, sending ripples across the pond. It circles me until I raise up my arm where it settles down. It digs with its beak at the feathers on its chest and doesn't acknowledge me further for a period of time.

"And what do I call you?" I ask the hawk.

The golden bird ruffles its feathers and stamps its feet a little. Although its golden eyes aren't conspicuous amongst the feathers, I can feel them trained on me. The bird studies me for a period of time before answering me. "I am the guardian Eldin."

"I have spoken with your brethren," I say, "and have had my inquiries deflected."

The great hawk replies smartly to me, "There are answers which you are not privileged to know at this time."

I groan and drop my arm. As I pull my feet out of the water, the guardian settles itself on my shoulder. "You're quite small compared to your brethren."

"Times have changed," the hawk clicks. "A bird of abnormal size is one easily spotted. I do not need any being to fruitlessly seek me out.

"You may ask away," Eldin nudges before I can comment on its golden coloring, "but I cannot guarantee answers."

"Of course," I say with bitter. Eldin shakes itself once more, and its talons painfully grip my shoulder through the sweater. The sharpness in my shoulder is acute, and I try to formulate my thoughts while the hawk stands by with idle.

"I'm trying to comprehend this new magic of mine," I tell the bird. Thinking of the country wide book burnings, I say, "My resources have been lacking though." From my peripheral, I see the hawk nod. "I've somehow managed to not only teleport myself, but my friend with me from the Lost Woods. We were being cornered by a squad, and the magic essentially attacked back on its own in ways that I've never seen or even attempted before."

"You understand that your magic is not of this time, correct?"

"I do."

"That magic is far older than me or my brethren," the golden hawk informs me. "As it stands right now, you are not in a position to consciously wield it. It is instinctive at this time." Not the answer that I want to hear, but I appreciate the guardian Eldin's frankness. It nibbles at its wing, before its alert eyes draw back to our surroundings. Eldin takes in the area with sharp focus and jerky movements. "There's a spell honed by your predecessors called Farore's Wind that allows the caster to warp; I believe this is what allowed you to escape the Lost Woods."

"My predecessors?" This is the first I'm hearing of this.

Eldin nips my ear and cocks its head. "Yes," is its short reply.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Your magic is not wholly yours. It has been wielded through the ages by others with suitable qualities."

I press, "Like who?"

"The more notable would be the daughters of de Hyrule and Harkinian. Even your current family line has had some competency with it."

A though a lead weight drops in my stomach, I stumble to my feet. Eldin stays planted to my shoulder despite my jostling as I get my shoes back on. "I'm sorry, I have to go," I say to the guardian as I straighten up. Nausea swims in my stomach, churning the liquid bile.

The hawk merely blinks once, and replies, "Of course. Feel free to visit as you please. Until next time." It flutters up from my shoulder, and then with great strides of its wings, Eldin skims the pond before diving into its depths.

…

Once the sickness had subsided some the next day, I headed for the library where I now sit with books spread haphazardly across the table in front of me. Of course there's nothing here worthwhile about magic anymore, but at the very least, history itself hasn't been declared to be some form of legal blasphemy. It has taken hours and hours to gather the remaining records of the House of Harkinian. As Link had said, the House of Harkinian's claim to the Hylian throne ends with the Princess Zelda of his time. He was also correct that her fame was quite small in comparison to some of her other ancestors. She is recognized and praised for being as the first official female knight, but nothing is really mentioned. While other women had come before her, their true gender was not made public, and this new feministic stride is attributed to Princess Zelda.

Link's brother, Sir Raven Coutts of Ordon, crops up here and there. Texts depict him as some valiant knight of progress in his work for the King's Horos who took a wife after the Harkinian line ended, but all I can think of is the sharp, needling reminder of his betrayal of Link. What few drawings there are of him spread out in the books do not show the utter malice in his eyes that he had when he and Link came to blows. His face is stoic, hard. The impenetrable knight.

Even my own family's ancient history pops up, but nothing is really mentioned about them during the Princess Zelda's time.

Although I can't completely follow who's who within the records, I try my best to map out a crude family tree from the information gathered. The further along I get, the queasier I become, and I end up ripping the paper I had scrawled the tree on to shreds. My stomach sits with a foul weight in it. Fuzziness begins to intrude on my mind, and I have to read a sentence at least three times before it begins to sink in and process in my brain.

"Miss? Are you alright?"

My head snaps up to a man a few years my senior studying me with concern. "I'm sorry what?" I babble back to him.

"Are you alright?" he repeats. He pushes the spectacles on his nose up a little further. "You're very pale."

I stutter out, "I'm fine, thank you."

His eyes flick to my research. "The Harkinians?" he ponders. "You know, when a new family was to succeed the throne, there was quite a squabble for it."

I'm almost afraid to ask, but my need outweighs the fear. "Between who?"

"De Hyrule obviously won the succession, as their line previously was on the throne, but the Coutts and Nohansens challenged them. They claimed to be more directly related to the Harkinian family of the time- are you sure you're fine, miss?"

"I…" I want to vomit in reality, my stomach churning and ready to reject the bile, but I don't dare say anything. "I'm fine. I think I just ate something bad earlier is all. It should pass soon enough."

The man nods and then glances at the seat across the table from me. "May I?" I gesture at it, and he slides the chair out. "My name is Shad," he says, settling himself and pushes his glasses up again with one hand and holding out the other.

"Zelda."

"If you don't mind my asking, what's your interest in the Harkinians?"

I shrug. "I've heard some conflicting things about them and just wanted to see what was what. How do you know about all of this?"

"I'm a bit of a scholar, you see. I pride myself in understanding the details of the Hylian monarchy in particular," he says. There's a spark in his eyes as he speaks to me. "There's an old legend that states that the original monarchy that established Hyrule descended from the sky!" The sky. Right. Although I've seen with my own eyes things that are just as preposterous. "It's thought that a race of people lived above the clouds on islands with great birds as their mounts, but not all migrated to the surface world-"

"H-how… um. How did you say the Coutts and Nohansens were related to the Harkinians?" I interrupt the chatty scholar.

Shad nods with vigor a few times. "Well, it wasn't all that uncommon for adultery to take place during that time, despite religious uproar against it. Noblemen often took mistresses, and this was seen to be tolerable as adultery was defined only to be a wife with extramarital affairs," Shad explains. "The Coutts tried to lay claim to the Hylian throne by claiming rights to royal bastards, despite them never being recognized legitimately by any of the Harkinian monarchs."

"Was the recognition why the Coutts didn't succeed?"

Shad bobs his head in the affirmative. "That is indeed exactly why," he says quickly. The words tumble from his mouth in an excited wave. "They held no true claim to the throne. De Hyrule, however, was traced as the successor due to previously being on the throne. The Harkinians gained control of the monarchy after marrying a son into the de Hyrule family and his son took succession and so on. But claims of unrecognized royal bastards weren't the only thing they tried to use.

"See, the Coutts had supposedly married generations back into the Nohansen line, which was tied to the monarchy through marriage… quite the conundrum, I know. They'd been aggressive about trying to seize the Hylian monarchy with the Nohansens since the last Queen Zelda of the Harkinian line was still a princess. After her death, they quickly had arranged a marriage to try and better secure their claim." The mere mention of this sends a tidal wave through my abdomen, and I feel myself pale a little more. My limbs start to shake minutely. Shad, however, seems lost in his own world of history and continues to carry on as if his words hold no weight at all. "Their claims to the throne through marriage, however, were more distant than de Hyrule, and so they tried to take it by force. Later attempts at assassinating the de Hyrule heirs landed them on the chopping blocks, and… are you absolutely sure you're well?"

…

I storm into the room at the inn. Link, who is bent over on the other side of the bed fiddling with what I assume is the accordion case, straightens up to greet me, and says, "There you are. I was beginning to worry something might have happened to you." As he comes around from the bed with a newspaper in hand, he asks me with a rush, "Where have you been? I haven't even so much glimpsed you since yesterday."

Although he speaks calmly to me, it does nothing to assuage the rapid rage building inside of me. It burns in my chest, and I can feel a tingling in my fingertips hot like coals. My breathing is heavy as if to fuel oxygen to the furnace of anger within me. "You lied to me!" I roar, advancing on the mechanical abomination and swiping the paper from his hand.

"What're you talking about?"

"Out of your own mouth you have told me that no one succeeded her!" Confusion quickly makes way recognition, and Link opens his mouth to respond. I don't give him a chance. The new knowledge I am now armed with festers the wounds, and my hands wring the newspaper. "I have seen it!" I throw at Link, whose shock is evident on his face. "In your memories, I have seen it before!"

"Zelda, what're you so concerned about?" he snaps. "None of that really matters!"

"But it does, Link!" I wail. "I watched you willingly throw your own flesh and blood into a fire to burn to nothing!"

Any restraint Link has is snapped in an instant at this accusatory comment. "You know nothing about that." His synthetic voice is low, intimidating and dangerous, but I push right back as any fear that I could feel is masked by my own fury.

"How many more?" I spit.

There's a brief reprieve in which he merely stares at me wide-eyed. Then he blinks. His laugh is sharp and condescending. "What do you take me for? I lived in a time where magic was at its height. Science and medicine afforded no explanations! Good Din, Zelda. This was an age where it was blasphemous to think that maybe drink had something to do with a child's deformities rather than a curse or consulting with the devil. What do you think would have happened? A stillborn child isn't the result of some medical cause, but the result of fraternizing with demons.

"Zelda, just imagine for a second the kind of religious outrage that would have followed if it was found that the princess gave birth to a stillborn son. These weren't people with a rational like yours. These were people fanatic that the Golden Goddesses were doling out punishment for sins committed should something go wrong."

"You didn't have to burn him."

"I did though," he growls. "You're fooling yourself if you think for just a moment I wanted to, but no one could know. Ashes would just be ashes. A buried skeleton would have a story to tell."

"What about the others?" I seethe. "I need to know, Link."

"There were no others."

A harsh silence washes over us. Neither of dare take our eyes of the other, and both of us cold and unforgiving. There's a prickling in my skin as Link stares me down, and I see something I wouldn't expect in those glass eyes of his. Instead of just seeing myself reflected back against the shiny surfaces, I see the bristling accusations. His mouth is set into a hard, thin frown, and a part of me starts to wonder if maybe his removal from the carnival didn't make him less human, but more so. Minutes tick by until Link's expression softens, a realization dawning over him. His shoulders slump a little as his anger deflates like a balloon leaking air through a hole. Even his eyes lose that venomous luster. Link tries to speak, and before I can even cut him off again there's a scathing heat racing across my palms.

I yelp and drop the newspaper in shock as golden flames lick away at it. "Oh Goddesses!" I sputter, backing away from the burning paper. What is wrong with me? Link calls out my name, and I bolt from the room.

Down the stairs and out the inn's lobby, my sudden flight startles the employee at the front desk. The buildings of Kakariko fly by as I hurry down the town's dusty streets. Posted at the park entrances are signs stating that the park closes come sundown, but I ignore them and hurl myself over the gates and into the park. The croaking of frogs is the only chorus in the air as I approach the pond, and I wonder briefly how much longer the amphibians will stay with winter coming in a couple of months. Little splashes sound out as the frogs escape into the pond's water and my eyes search for any hint of the spirit that resides here.

It flies up behind me, the flapping of its wings alerting me. I turn and greet the light spirit. Eldin circles around me until I offer up my arm. The bird casts a glance up and down my form. "You are not too cold?" the spirit asks. "The weather has been tumultuous lately though, hasn't it?"

"I am not here to make small talk," I tell the golden hawk.

Eldin cocks its head to one side. "Oh?"

"I set a newspaper on fire."

The hawk straightens itself out, ruffling its feathers some. The slight disturbance in the bird's coloring tells me of the few rapid blinks. "I see," Eldin says. "Fire is not a force which you are used to manipulating, correct?"

I shake my head with vigor as I reject the question. "Forget manipulation!" I cry, jostling the hawk a little. I take a deep breath, and then say in a hushed exclamation, "It was like the paper spontaneously combusted!"

The hawk nods in acknowledgement, but Eldin then changes the subject. "You've studied up, I would assume, on the information that I have provided you with on your last visit?"

"I can't really." I explain the issues of the missing materials from the library. "I did however, try and get info on the Harkinians."

"Find something interesting?"

"I met a scholar who told me the Coutts of Ordon were after the throne after the Harkinian line died out."

Eldin shuffles its feet, scooting itself further up my arm. The golden hawk leans in as if to whisper to me a secret. "Tell me," it says, fluffing its wings. "Do you truly know the depths of their lust for power?" When I tell the spirit how I have seen them sacrifice their own sons in their quest, the hawk shakes its head. "That is like diving a mere few feet down in that ocean of conniving wickedness."

The golden hawk Eldin closes the distance between us and pecks harshly at my forehead.

…

Dark circles ring under his eyes where little bags hang. The healthy tanned complexion from days under the sun Link once had has faded to a sickly white as he looks out the window. A mere ghost of his former self. The clothing he wears is simple and slightly baggy on him. No green tunic, no chainmail, no weapons, just an ill-fitting shirt, pants and plain tunic adorn him, and I wonder if maybe the bag is from lost weight; his boyish features have sharpened, likening him more as a mirror image to his older brother. Even his hair has lost its healthy, oily sheen, and despite the sunshine pooling into the room, it hangs around his face like dull, stiff straw. Link chews his bottom lip, the only spot on his wane figure with a little flush of life, as he looks out into the castle courtyard.

Sun bathes the magnificent courtyard. Stone pillars of grandeur bear the weight of a covered walkway. From where Link and I stand at the window, three entrances from the castle in the walkway are visible. The courtyard has been meticulously maintained with careful fingers, as there is not one spot between the grout of the stonework where weeds try to stubbornly sprout. The flowerbeds are well manicured, as expected, and tastefully designed so that the colors complement one another with grace. From below the window and out from the covered walkway comes a nobleman; it is clear that his tunic is made from rich fabrics. His leather slippers pad the stone with slow and careful steps. The nobleman barely glances up from the book in his hand as he walks.

Like a tidal wave, men pool out from the entrance across the courtyard. They storm in from the sides, and even from where the nobleman entered. It's easy to assume that from their dress, these men, too, are of a high class. Some have swords drawn already; others have their hands on the hilts, ready to arm themselves at any given moment. Maybe twenty or so of them flood the courtyard, as the nobleman with the book looks about him with frantic, wild movements as if he were nothing but a trapped animal looking for escape. The men surrounding him advance on him further, and the nobleman drops his book with shaky hands as he's circled by the sharks.

The claret liquid bursts from the man's chest and stains the rich tunic. From our vantage point, even the scarlet dribbling from his mouth is in clear view. The nobleman stays standing, speared on swords like an olive. Swords slowly withdraw from the nobleman, and as the sharks back away, he tumbles onto the white stone of the courtyard. The sharks sheath their swords and slip back into the castle without further incident. The red under the fallen nobleman blooms and creeps across the stone with clawing fingers. All Link does is heave a weighty sigh and turn away from the sight.

Only to have his eyes fall on a stained scaffold. A block of waxed wood sits at the center of the scaffold. He sits on a high dais alongside other nobles where they can overlook the scaffold and the surrounding crowd. The crowd is eager as they shout out their lust and calls for justice, but Link does not share in their revelry. Instead he looks just as wane as before with a gauntness to his sinking features. Next to him is a woman with auburn hair. She fans herself idly with one hand, the other on her protruding belly. On her other side, Link's older brother Raven, who is mostly unchanged, snorts, and Link shoots him a glare. A squire approaches the brothers, and the young man stutters a little before swallowing at Sir Raven's sharp bark. "Sir Link," he addresses, "the king requests your presence."

Hollowed eyes settle on the young squire. "I will come shortly," he tells the boy with gentle assurance.

The squire nods. "Yes milord," he says, and then he spins on his heel and shuffles away. He stumbles a little when his slipper catches on a protruding nail.

Link looks down and wiggles his feet inside his boots.

"Are you going to go, Brother?"

The younger knight rises from his seat without replying to Sir Raven. I trail along behind Link as he weaves through with ease the many nobles craning their necks for a better view. Some of the women giggles and whisper gossip among them. Some of the nobles' faces are blurred or there's nothing there at all, but others are clear and in sharp focus. Their eyes follow the knight in green as he makes his way. Their conversations fall short as he passes, and then pick up again with urgency as soon as they think he's out of ear shot. Their hushed conversations are heard, but not important as their speech blends and slurs among one another.

The new king is seated on a simple throne. When Link approaches, he gives the king a polite bow and greeting. "Good day, Your Majesty."

The king's face brightens when he sees Link. "Come, sit with me," the king invites with a wave of his hand. Link's eyes drift with hesitation to the empty seat next to the king but does not question it. With a controlled breath, he seats himself. "I am glad you are here," the king tells Link. "Although I am sure this is not a day of entertainment for you." The king looks out on the crowd, a small smile on his face as he looks on at the eager crowd. No sign of clemency from the King of Hyrule is to be found.

Link looks over to the king. Slightly overweight with pepper hair and beard, the king has seen many years. The weight of which, has clearly never bore down him. Link's haggard complexion is a stark contrast. With a raspy, croaked voice, Link replies, "It is what must be done and something I have long foreseen, Sire, but all the same, yes, there is no entertainment or joy for me to find."

"Her Majesty was always quite fond of you," the king comments, reminiscing about the late Zelda. "She trusted you when she could no other."

"Sire?"

The king turns to Link. His expression is grave and serious with hardened eyes. "It is my hope, Sir Link," says the king softly, "that we, too, may become trusted confidants. I have always thought your courage and honesty were admirable qualities."

"I am sorry to say that I am nothing more than a coward, Sire."

"Nonsense," dismisses the king. "After today, what could possibly ensnare you?" The king doesn't notice as he leans over to get the first glimpse of the people being guided up to the scaffold but Link's eyes flick down the dais to his brother.

On the scaffold stands a man donned in orange and red robes. His snow white hair is blinding under the morning sun, and the crowd settles down as the first of the group brought out comes up the scaffold and to the man. The first is the man I recall Sir Raven referring to as his and Link's uncle. He turns to the robed man, and words are passed between them. The robed man traces a triangle over the uncle's chest and bows his head. A hush falls over the dais and the crowd as Link's uncle kneels at the block, and a hooded man steps up, axe in hand. There is only the sunlight, the blue, blue, blue sky with cotton clouds and the soft singing of birds when Link's uncle clutches the block between his hands.

Link's eyes squeeze shut, but the dull thump on wood rings through the black world. The executioner is sloppy though, and the sound reverberates through the darkness once more. A third time, the executioner must raise his axe. The odd, domestic thump of blade on wood as evidence, and when Link's eyes open, all that remains on the wooden block is a strange stump of a neck. A scarlet gush streams forth from the stump and stains the block with fresh blood. It splatters out onto the scaffold with thick droplets to meld in with the misted spray thrown from the executioner's axe. The head rolls across the scaffold, and the executioner stoops to retrieve it. He raises it high as the crowd caws out like crows at the sight. The executioner turns slowly on his feet to showcase the head clutched in his hand.

His uncle's body is carried off and the head taken away to be displayed on a pike as Link's mother steps forward. She gives no prayer to the large priest; she doesn't even acknowledge the potbellied man. Seeing that she will offer no final confession, the priest flies through motion of the triangle with thick fingers to her back as she strides over to the soggy block. She does not kneel or yield before it. Link's mother stands with determination, her head held high in arrogance. The sun shines on her golden hair and pale skin as she stands statue still. The executioner waits for her to move on her own, but he soon grows impatient and forces her down onto the wet, soppy block.

When Link closes his eyes, the world blinks out. The black engulfs everything in that tiny fraction of a second. And when he opens them again, a different time, a different place has taken over where the room is fairly small and cramped with bookshelves. Little light from the setting sun comes in from the window, so a fire provides most of the light in the room. A pair of plush armchairs sits close to the hearth but is unoccupied.

Link smiles a little at the flustered girl pacing back and forth in front of him. Her slippers skim the plush rug, and her dress puffs out with each quick step. She's dressed in a luxurious purple of a deep plum. Expensive. Entitled. Rare. She picks at the hood atop her head, causing little wisps of hair to loose themselves from the tight styling. "Your Highness," Link addresses. This is not the queen, but the princess. Young and vivacious, she is the lady knight. She turns on her feet to stare him down, but Link does not cower from her ferociousness. "You'll wear holes in the carpet." He holds out a slip of paper, which the princess swipes from him.

She spits, "Bother!" And the Princess Zelda goes back to her quick, tight pacing as the note in her hand begins to curl with flame.

"What has you so wound up?" Link laughs. He watches as little flecks of the note break off and pulse orange before charring black. "It's only been a week since we got back to court. Is it already so dreadful?"

"The food is nice. Some of the company is nice enough. But the public." She snorts and then even spits. Her spittle lands on the hearth of the crackling fire. She clutches what's left of the note in her hand, compressing it into a small ball. The whole thing lights up in a small fire before she tosses it into the hearth. "How do you smile in the face of such idiocy?"

"I heard Richard Percy has gotten his eye on you," Link teases the princess who rolls her eyes. "The note was his, but has he made any real moves yet?"

"Apart from following me like a dog?"

"Perhaps I should suggest he compose a song?"

At this, the princess cracks a smile. It stretches her lips, puffs her cheeks and even wrinkles the corner of her eyes, but her pacing does not cease. "Even the minstrels would have a hard time trying to parody that mess." She wrinkles her nose in distaste.

Her feet draw up short in step, and she turns to look at Link with attention. "Do you hear what my maids have been saying?" she asks him to which Link just shakes his head. His shaggy locks fly about with the movement. "Oh, come on," the lady whines. "They've taken a fancy to you. Surely you've heard something?"

"Nothing."

She sighs and turns her back to Link. Her sight fixated on the fire, she clasps her hand behind her back where still nervous fingers wrangle one another. "I keep hearing whispers from them. They don't respect me," she mutters. She takes in Link's silence for a spell, and then she explains further. "They dislike my ways; they think me brutish for becoming a knight. Then being out in the field for so many months… so many years… 'She used to have skin like porcelain,' they sigh. Then they'll snigger to one another. 'Now look at her. She's too dark for lady's work.' My own ladies." The princess shrugs. "I'm beginning to believe maybe I did not think knighthood through."

"But you love it."

"I do, but it's obvious the people don't." She turns around with a deep frown etched into her lips. "How can I expect to lead when His Majesty passes when I can't even have the respect and support of the people closest to me?"

"You have mine. And I know the Duke of Ordon is fond of you; he hopes that we might be able to be stationed down there come the warmer months. His Grace Daphnes de Hyrule thinks highly of you as well," Link tells her. He pauses, and with a sly smile, he adds, "And I'm sure Richard Percy thinks the world of you," to which the lady knight giggles. "Why place so much weight on the buzzards of the court?"

"Unfortunately, buzzards are what make up the majority."

There's no time for a response from Link when a knock on the door announces a new guest. A feminine voice creeps through the wood, calling out for the Princess of Hyrule's attention. The princess snarls. "Can't even get ten minutes to myself." She turns to Link with a mischievous smile and asks, "How about some sport? We'll take the horses out." A breeze curls around the princess when Link gives a breathy laugh. She takes hold of his arm and whisks them away on her conjured wind as her name is called out again, this time with more urgency.

…

I'm on my back when I come back to the present, to Eldin, to Kakariko. To me. The light spirit is resting on my stomach. Its talons dig painfully through my clothing into the soft flesh of my stomach as it keeps its watchful eyes ever moving about our surroundings. Night is still upon the town, and from the ground, I can see the little twinkling dots of stars scattered about the sky. Hazy clouds sometimes drift past, blotting out the tiny lights.

"There is but one other thing that I can offer you," the light spirit tells me.

"And what's that?"

The hawk shakes its head. "Now is not the appropriate time. Consult with me when you are ready to move on."

I groan and lay my head back. "I am ready. I'm tired of these games."

"This concerns your friend's current state of being," the hawk offers, trying to pique my interest.

"My companion wants nothing more than to keep me whistling in the dark."

The hawk contemplates this for a minute. "It is possible that in his mind, your ignorance will protect you from him." I snort. "Do not mistake his intentions. I'm sure you know full well your survival at this time hinges on him."

"I can get by fine in a city."

"What of the break-in in your apartment?" the golden hawk asks. It creeps a little further up my stomach. "There's much more than just keeping food in your stomach and place to shelter yourself at stake."

I don't admit it aloud, but the spirit Eldin is correct.

"I think I might seek out that scholar I met."

Eldin's feather rustle in the dark. "A wise course of action."

…

When I return to the inn the sounds of the wailing accordion drifts out from behind the door. I enter with lighter feet this time than last, and I shut the door behind me saying, "You'll drive the neighbors mad when it gets too late."

"A true casualty." But he squeezes the instrument closed, fastens it and sets it on the floor when I come and situate myself next to on the bed. Link and I face the window that looks out on the streets of Kakariko. Street lamps glow softly onto the emptiness.

"I met a man that I think might be helpful," I say. "His name was Shad; he seems to know a lot about the history of your time. He seems to be quite a knowledgeable man in many studies too; I could hardly stop him once I got him going on a subject."

Link smirks a little but says, "I know my own history, Zelda."

"Not yours, per say. I was thinking maybe there was something out there about the man that changed you. Malladus, right?"

"I wouldn't hold hope," he says gruffly.

I press, "It's worth a try." There's a few quick clicks of his eyelids shuttering closed before he gives a curt nod.

Minutes pass before he speaks again, and his voice becomes light and gentle. "You're no child of mine, Zelda."

"How are you so sure?"

"You believe my family wasn't ambitious enough to lie their way to power? My family's only claim to the Nohansens after the queen died was my brother's only child that didn't live long enough to make it out of his shortpants, and the Harkinian never even took a breath.

"History is never as concrete as we're lead to believe, Zelda."

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to believe.

Poor Richard Percy. Not even actually in the story, yet he constantly gets ragged on. Anyway, longer chapter than usual, so I hope it was good/worth it/whatevs. Although I'm almost settled in from my move finally, I can't believe it, but my papers for my stories have totally vamoosed! I have no idea where they've gotten to. In fact, I have no idea why I don't even have a complete matching set of sheets! How do I not have any pillow cases?! But yeah. So I had to sit here and try and recreate the whole thing that I worked out with the lineage and throne succession, and I don't think it matches nor is it as good as what I had before, but maybe I was just glorifying what I had before. I can't tell with my notes MIA. Boo.

Probably the best welcome home I've gotten has been THE FREAKING BLACKHAWKS WINNING THE CUP! AAAAH! I'M SO EXCITED. Can't wait to go downtown for the parade Friday. It will be MAYHEM. Last night was crazy too! People were throwing up the guard rails and crowd surfing on them. Oma and I had some booze, and many screaming phone calls were made.

Also. Got job! I'm no baker, but I'll still be working with food. I'll be cooking at a local restaurant starting next week probably; which is excitiiing! Now all I gotta do is hopefully pass the damn emissions test to register my car.

Never moving again. There's just too freaking many things to deal with.

GO BLACKHAWKS!

:DDDD