Chapter 10: Masquerade

When Volga had first moved into the Eldin Caves, he had been given the option to choose what area, or which exact cave, he wanted to make his home. As long as it was within the Eldin border, he could live almost anywhere he pleased. The Eldin border was a territorial line that divided the Lizalfos and Dinolfos from the Goron tribe, roughly half of the land area for each of them. The Goron area was closer to Hyrule Field, so that they would be the first creatures a human would encounter when stepping into the Eldin Caves.

For the most part, the Lizalfos and Gorons were able to co-exist in peace, among their given lands. The couple of times they'd venture into each other's territory was for trading, but the Gorons generally preferred to trade with the humans dwelling in villages further away. Furthermore, there wasn't as much to benefit from trading with each other due to them having mostly the same resources.

The only noticeable difference in their landmarks was that the Lizalfos had more mining caves, particularly the Crystal Caves, containing precious crystals and ore that interested the humans and Gorons. For the Gorons, the ores were like sweets for the rock-loving tribe, extending a variety of food. For the humans, it was the riches. Had these caves been easily accessible to either one, the ores might have been depleted by now.

In this manner, the reptilians were better suited to preserve and guard the Crystal Caves. Humans and Gorons would not generally dare step between a dragon and its treasures.

While the Lizalfos gained more of the ore, the Gorons had more hot springs. Volga used the hot springs more than the Lizalfos, so among the few they had in their area, he had chosen his home near a hot spring. In fact, his home had been built around a hot spring.

His cave featured various areas separated by stone walls and doors - built of his own accord - that served as rooms. The hot spring itself had a room of its own, similarly to a bathing room for humans. It brought a sense of privacy that Volga had grown to appreciate, especially when he sought some time alone from his loud and obnoxious family.

This was where Volga was now, taking a morning bath before preparing for his long trip to Hyrule Castle. The hot water occasionally bubbled, draining and replenishing fresh water into the spring.

But he had been in there for awhile now, lost in thought, for the tips of his fingers began to wrinkle. Volga finally stood up from the spring, and stepped out out of the water. Wrapping his towel around his waist, he paused in front of a large, rectangular fragment of glass that was leaning up against the slab wall. Through it, he could see his reflection.

A tall, young man stood before him. Water dripped from his hair, which was a darker shade of blond from being wet, the ends seemingly longer as they barely brushed below his neck. His warm skin glistened from the water droplets when he moved, sturdy arms and torso emphasized by the demanding physical exertion throughout his training over the years.

He did not consider that he might have been regarded as somewhat appealing. Such a notion was marred by the black markings surrounding his eyes, an imperfection he had almost forgotten was there.

Volga had grown to care little of the markings, and even less as to what humans thought about them. Living with the Lizalfos had taught him to turn his fear of the markings into a warrior's respect. Dodongo would always tell him to be proud, whether he wore a helmet or not. Besides, Zelda never…

Emerald eyes stared back at him, mirroring the eagerness and nervousness he had been feeling.

He brought a hand to his chin, scrutinizing the blond stubble there, which would no doubt, grow longer soon. Volga did not know why he felt so self-conscious all the sudden, when he'd barely give a second thought as to how he looked.

Yet at this very moment, his stomach twisted in a knot, as he tried to imagine what Zelda would think of him now. He wondered if she too, would have gone through something similar, if she had known that she would be seeing him. This was… normal for friends to feel like this, right? They hadn't seen each other in so long, after all.

After he dried himself and dressed, he headed over to his bed room, his eyes drawn to the object that never ceased to catch his eye. Sitting on top of his stone desk, was the cherished brooch Zelda had given him. Volga picked it up, his fingers tracing along the golden wings that held the precious, blue stone. In his more… wistful and guarded thoughts, he imagined Zelda as the jewel, and him, the wings that would hold her. Like the stem that would support a flower, two different pieces as one.

And that, he told himself sternly. Is another reason I'm glad that I revise my letters as much as I do…

There were two kinds of letters Volga had familiarized with over the years; the complete and the incomplete. Complete was the finalized draft he would write, after having modified it, likely more than once. He would never send it until he was confident with the results. Such letters would be the ones he would send her, safe within the barrier between them. No one would have believed in their friendship, thus it made him all the more protective of it.

These letters were written with the diligence of a magician, to create the illusion that boasted his strengths, and concealed his weaknesses. If any implication of a weakness was brought up in his writing, they were not supposed to be relevant of her. He would not make her feel responsible for how much she had affected him.

For that was what the incomplete letter was for. These letters ended up not being sent, never revealed to anyone but to himself. The words were not always concrete, often fragments of confounding thoughts and emotions regarding the princess. Of the blind happiness he'd find in his dreams of her… until he'd wake up and be left with an aching emptiness.

They were incomplete, because that's how he felt in her absence.

"Finally, you're back."

Volga immediately clasped his fingers around the brooch in his hand. He had not expected to get caught, seeing that he was in his cave's quarters, and his clan usually respected his privacy. With a displeased grumble, he looked up at the pair of young Dinolfos and Lizalfos that had entered. Of course it would be them.

"Amusei and Jules," said Volga irritably. "What did I say about barging into my home without asking me?"

Jules rolled her eyes, sticking her forked tongue at him. "Oh, calm your fumesss a bit, Volga. We're just excited to see you again. What took you ssso long in the market place?"

"Did you get your cossstume yet?" Amusei asked eagerly. "What did you buy?"

Volga raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I did. And why are you two so interested in all of this?"

"Can we see?"

"No."

"Oh come on, Master Volga," Amusei prompted. "I promissse I won't steal another fried Cucco leg from your plate again."

Jules suddenly gasped as she caught sight of something from his bag, nosily approaching his purchases. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked, making a noise that sounded distinctly like a squeal.

"What isss it?" Amusei asked curiously, not seeing or understanding what she had spotted, before Volga snatched the bag and placed it out of sight. Not that it mattered anymore. If Jules knew, then everyone knew.

Volga pointed a finger at them, like an older brother reprimanding his siblings. "Do not even breathe a word of this," he warned. "Otherwise I'm not going to hear the end of this for ages."

"But, Volga," she said, beaming. "I think it's sssweet."

"What isss?" said Amusei impatiently. "Jules, you know I don't get all thisss human stuff like you do."

"He's going to dress as a prince!"

"Keeeh?" said Amusei, confused. "I don't understand."

The female Lizalfos peered at Volga closely. "You're so sssly, Volga, choosing a costume like thisss. And you've been doing all that reading and research over the yearsss on being a gentleman, on studying royal culture, and more. You're sssecretly hoping the princess will find you irresistible, aren't you?"

Mortified, Volga turned away, but used this as an excuse to move around the books that had been lying on his bed, back to the shelf in his room. None of his clan members could read, and even when he tried to teach them, they spared little attention in learning what they called 'human nonsense'. Jules on the other hand, was the only reptilian who showed any remote interest in human culture, and was more adept at picking up on hints than anyone else.

"You're nervousss," she noted. "It's because of the princess, isn't it? You rarely get like thisss about anything else."

"Why would you be making such assumptions?" Volga asked casually, his eyes betraying his tone.

Two pointy teeth stuck out as Jules gave a toothy grin. "Master Volga it'sss really not that hard to tell. It's the way your eyesss light up whenever you receive a letter from the princess. It's the color in your face when her name is brought up, or when you're talking about her. It's how… fondly you store away her lettersss and gifts when you think no one is looking -"

They know…

Of course they did. The clan would tease him regarding his admiration for the princess from time to time, particularly these two, but not quite as… in-depth as this.

"You don't have to make me sound so obsessive," Volga mumbled, running a hand through the back of his hair. "I didn't realize I was being so closely watched."

Amusei snorted. "But Master Volga isss obsessive…"

Jules cackled loudly "Not even watched, just obvious observationsss. I mean, if even Amusei can notice this…"

"Hey!" Amusei snapped.

"Zelda's my friend," Volga clarified coolly. "I'm sure it's perfectly normal to be a little anxious regarding a friend you haven't seen in years."

Jules gave a dramatic sigh. "Volga, pleassse," she began. "You do realize that friendship between man and woman can't lassst? And I haven't even begun on dragonsss and princesses."

"That's ridiculous," Volga scoffed. "Why would you say that?"

"Because," she said, as if it were the most obvious concept in the world. "Once the princess fallsss in love, likely with a prince, then her life will change. Especially if they are to marry, the prince would not want his woman writing lettersss to another man, and a dragon at that. She might still write to you from time to time, but do not be surprised if the letters one day ssstop coming."

At this, a cold, unexpected pang plunged into his chest. It was a horrifying sensation, like someone had reached into his very lungs, and was squeezing the oxygen out of him. It hurt to breathe. The fear lingered in his eyes much longer than he could prevent to hide.

The green reptilian's expression turned serious. "I really think that for your sssake, you're better off searching for a potential mate, and soon. Snag ssssome random human girl at the festival who won't flee at the sight of your face. I'd suggest a female dragon instead, but we don't exactly have optionsss, do we?"

"No," Volga snarled, with such pained vehemence in his voice, that he startled them. He tightened his fingers around the brooch, as if it gave him some delusional proof that he was already taken. He was not interested in meeting anyone. He had maintained contact with her through their letters. She wouldn't just disappear from his life, would she? She would still write. Of course she would. Everything Jules was saying was nonsense. It had to be.

"I'll be going now," he said suddenly, grabbing his bag. "I have an assassin to hunt, not a random mate to snag."

When Volga had left, Amusei turned to Jules. "He didn't have to sssound so grouchy. If anything, I think he should have appreciated your honesty. Princesses do not fall in love with dragonsss, after all."

"Perhaps not," said Jules guiltily. "But apparently, dragonsss fall in love with princesses."

Volga had taken a carriage he had rented from the Gorons. He was not sure why really, when it would have been quicker to simply fly over to the castle. Though if he did, not only would he cause a commotion, but he would arrive there quite early. Perhaps a part of him wanted nothing to do with his dragon form tonight. Or perhaps he wanted more time to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to face.

He watched as the volcanic terrain transitioned into Hyrule's lush fields, and he was reminded of Zelda's desire to experience the world before her eyes. And he wanted… he wanted so badly to grant her wish. He would find a way somehow, if not this time, then surely when he could find the opportunity. If circumstances allowed them… if Zelda trusted him.

Hyrule Castle Town came into view, the place where he had recently been to purchase his costume, and to take some dancing lessons. Yes, dancing lessons. That's why he had taken so long in the town, why he had not explained to Amusei and Jules. He would not attend an event like this, and be a complete clod when it came to dancing. Reading about it from books wasn't quite the same as actually performing the action itself. No. Volga made sure to prepare well.

Jules had said he wanted the princess to find him irresistible. Volga had not thought of it that way, but he certainly wanted to impress her. He wanted to be… everything she wanted. And tonight, in this guise of a prince, he would allow his imaginary mask to fall. Behind an actual mask now, ironically enough.

The streets however, felt so different from when he first visited them with Zelda - compared to when he started his life in the Eldin Caves. He had brought this up in an unsent letter to her… one of his incomplete letters. Because Zelda wasn't supposed to know how crowded the alleys were now, and how they never felt more empty without her. That the restaurant they ate at was shut down, and expanded into a furniture store. So many places changed, yet the memories of her lingered everywhere he looked.

Goddesses, help me, he thought, closing his eyes. I need to get a hold of myself, before I become a speechless fool when I see her…

Somehow, he had a feeling, that some aspect of this would be inevitable. That was fine, as long as he didn't forget how to speak. If he was going to keep pining for her, then he would do so with dignity.

The long journey finally brought him to an expensive neighborhood near the castle. Volga paid the Goron driver, and stepped out of the carriage.

He made his way into a high-class inn, and paid for a room for the night, gaining curious glances from the customers. The inn-keeper gave him a key to his room, and he quickly changed inside, leaving the bag with his spare changes of clothes on top of the bed. He highly doubted Impa would want him to spend the night at the castle anyway. When he stepped out of his room in his outfit, he heard gasps. If he hadn't caught enough attention before, he certainly was now.

Ignoring them, he left the inn, and went back outside. The castle was within walking distance. He could even see the glimmering lights from the windows outside, the decorations and banners of the event hanging from outside the walls. He could hear an orchestra playing from a distance, and he almost found himself searching for the sound of a harp.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," one of the helmed Hylian soldiers greeted him, giving him a salute. "May I ask what kingdom you have travelled from?"

Volga was not sure if he was serious or joking. Was his costume really that convincing? He would amuse himself a bit, at the very least. "I hail from a mountainous region. Where the lava flows as steady as the riches provided by exquisite gems and ores. Where armors and weapons are crafted by my own hands, and ah… convenient access to fire for the forging."

"That is quite impressive!" said the guard, amazed. "It is not often princes actually engage in the process of smithing. It is such hard and demanding labor. Not that I would doubt your physique, of course -"

"You witless numbskull," said one of the masked humans, who had apparently been in charge of verifying the identity of each one of the visitors that arrived. "He's obviously not from any kingdom… however compelling his costume may be." The figure motioned for Volga to follow, which he did, smirking the whole time.

The masked woman had been dressed in a long, silver gown, with what looked like embroidery of red triangles along her sleeves. Her mask was a matching silver headpiece that covered her entire face. A single red eye was designed on it, reminding him of the eye of the Beamo statues. He would not be surprised if she could fire a laser from it either.

"I take it you know what this mask is?" she asked him, apparently interested to see how much he knew.

Volga nodded. "It's the Mask of Truth," he replied, remembering the chapter he had read regarding this mask. "They say it allows you to see into people's hearts and minds."

"Very good," said the woman, sounding pleased. She tilted her mask above her, revealing Impa's face. The familiar red eyes stared back at him, her hair unbraided and down, something he had never seen before. Other than her hair and the more stressed lines along her forehead, Impa looked almost exactly as he had remembered seeing her. "Now," she continued. "If only this mask actually did have those powers. Please reveal your identity before I let you inside."

The blond knew exactly why she was doing this security check, and he obliged, watching her eyes widen with surprise. "By the -" she said, befuddled. "If not for the markings around your eyes, I swear I would not recognize you. You have grown."

"Yes, age has a tendency to do that," Volga stated, more entertained than sarcastic. He covered his face again, and looked around at the group of visitors arriving behind him.

Impa surveyed them for a moment, before turning her attention back to him. "I'm going to need to take away your weapon."

Volga instinctively reached for the spear sheathed at his waist. "My weapon? Impa, you haven't forgotten why you've invited me here, have you?"

"I have not," said Impa, placing her mask back on as she lowered her voice. "But if Zelda sees your weapon, that might give you away. She must not know you're here."

"Why?"

Impa gave him an accusing glare. "Because you would be a distraction to her. And I don't mean just during this event, but after. She will not be able to concentrate on anything else, and we need her now, more than ever, to be in utmost focus. You might just be the death of her."

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think?" said Volga quietly, before reluctantly handing Impa his spear. "You asked me to come here to track a possible assassin, but you take away my weapon. Not that I don't have a means of attacking without my weapon, mind you. But I'm not the enemy here, Impa."

The white-haired woman shook her head. "Not now you're not," she said in a cryptic voice, confusing him. "You should try to understand my mistrust, not just in you, but everyone." To Volga's bewilderment, she handed him a silver cutlass. "You can use a sword, I suspect?"

"Of course I can," he said, affronted that she would presume otherwise.

He could almost feel her eyes rolling behind her mask. "You're different, you know," she observed. "Not just how you look, but how you bring yourself. You seem more confident, though with a hint of arrogance. But you're unusually polite. This is unexpected, though not unwelcome. Thank you for coming here."

Impa had a strange way of showing gratitude, though Volga supposed that she must have had a pretty solid reason to be so mistrustful. Just what had been happening in this castle? What hadn't Zelda told him?

As Impa ushered him away, so that she could attend to the next visitor, Volga looked up at her again. "And what did Zelda dress as, so I know where to start looking?"

"Oh trust me, you'll know when you see her."

Impa had not told her father.

The king looked so much more at ease tonight, for a change. He too had dressed for the ball; wearing a steel blue undershirt with designs that looked like waves of the sea, and white slacks made of satin. The finishing touches was his maroon tailcoat to match the themes of Daphnes Nohansen.

"Do you think this mask is too frightening?" he asked her, inspecting the draconic helm in his hands that was supposed to resemble the head of the King of Red Lions.

Zelda placed a kiss on top of his semi-bald head. "Father, I've grown up from a little girl to be scared of paper masks of horror."

The king chuckled. "And you never were, dear. Do you remember that rag doll you carried around when you were five?"

"Hmm…"

"All the girls your age were playing with the most gorgeous, expensive dolls," the king continued. "But for some reason, you chose the ugly and tattered doll that no one cared about. The one with the torn seams and the missing button as an eye. You patched the doll up and everything, brushed her hair, and gave her the same luxurious outfit as the other dolls had. And when you showed her to the other noble girls…"

Zelda smiled faintly at the memory. "I gave them quite a fright. I remember how confused I was."

The king sighed with mingled joy, pride, and sadness. "It does not seem like that long ago when you were able to play with the other children. Look at you now, your birthday is coming up at the end of the week, and you're going to be considered an adult. I've kept you so sheltered. It's kind of painful to grasp that this Masquerade Festival will be the most social interaction you will experience, compared to the past couple of years combined."

"Father…" Zelda started, taken back by the regret in his tone.

"You are too kind to me," he said mournfully. "Just like your mother. But I don't think even she would have restrained you as much as I have. Go, my daughter. Go enjoy yourself, for a change. Maybe I can… maybe I can look into becoming a little more lenient with your freedom for your upcoming birthday."

She took the larger, wrinkled hand in hers, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. It was then and there that she decided that she could not tell him of the potential danger she would be in during this masquerade. And if her father could enjoy himself a little, then she wanted to give him peace of mind.

They stood behind the double, mahogany doors that would lead to the ball room. The door where no visitors could come through, and only for the Royal Family to use. Zelda found it humorous at the fact that she and her father, both who would no doubt make a grand entry as soon as they passed through those doors - would have the most unoriginal costumes compared to the rest. Her father may have been dressed as another character, but he was still representing a king.

While she…

The astounded murmurs travelled through the crowd like wildfire. Painted faces and colored masks turned in the direction of the seemingly disregarded balcony at the top of the stairs. Volga had been leaning against the railing of these very stairs, but when he looked up to see what had captured the crowd's attention with such beguiling interest - he was never more thankful for that railing than that moment, lest his knees would have failed him.

For there, at the top of the stairs, was no other than Princess Zelda.

And though Volga was quite certain he could hear people speaking a moment ago, he wasn't sure why he couldn't hear anything else right now. Everyone was talking - their mouths were moving, but no sound was coming out. Surely, time had frozen.

Golden bangs framed the sides of her face, the tips decorated with exotic jewels. The rest of her hair was much longer than he had last seen her, the ends held together by an elaborate braid.

Gems gleamed all around her, reminding him of the soft glow of the Crystal Caves - from her hair ornaments, to her jewelry, and to the decorations of her attire. A rosy quartz was embedded on the center of her tiara, matching the lighter pink shades of her dress.

Her dress alone captivated the envious and admiring attention from the crowd, accentuated with flowing silks and soft laces. The bodice hugged her hips, and shaped along the curves of her chest, an astute indication that this was no longer the body of a little girl, but of a young woman. She had caught sight of more than just his own eyes.

Volga was increasingly grateful for his mask right now.

"The princess dressed as herself?"

"Why is she not wearing a mask?"

The sounds were slowly starting to return to his ears. People were chatting avidly, as she calmly walked down the stairs. She passed by him, so close that he caught a glimpse of her face. He was paralyzed in place, even though she had not noticed him. Inside however, was a different story.

W… what is happening? He thought desperately. My heart is stammering so much…

As he struggled to pull his thoughts together, he began to glance around from hidden face to the next. Zelda was still in danger, and having him here ogling at her amongst the humans would not be of any help. While he could, theoretically, keep an eye on her from a distance, he considered that she would realize he was watching her, sooner or later. The last thing he wanted was to come off as a creep, so he would deal with the bundle of nerves in his stomach, and make himself presentable to her.

But how to approach? She stood out among the sea of masked faces, with nothing to cover her own. She almost looked like a mirage, so rare and out of place. Unobtainable.

The normal chattering and music continued in the background, just as it had been before Zelda had made her appearance. The fervent whispers behind her back, however, did not stop.

"Hmph, what use is beauty if she never shows herself to anyone? She's not even that pretty, just another simple face. Her dress and jewelry carry her," the faceless comments continued, of jealousy so blatant, that Volga felt an urge to shield the princess from these biting remarks, a fire raging inside him at their lies.

"I heard the most she's been outside has been her own courtyard. It's a wonder she's got any color at all on her skin. They say she spends all day studying and training."

"Don't care. Maybe I can get her to drink with me, and then we can go somewhere more private," slurred a drunken man, who was rewarded with a smack to the face by the woman next to him. Volga thought it was well-deserved.

He watched as the princess interacted with various guests, how she held herself in such a strict, yet elegant posture. How she smiled to be polite, though not like the blissful childish smiles he had remembered. They seemed more strained now, sad even. How focused she appeared to be in making sure everyone was having a good time, and if they needed anything.

"Look, the princess is interacting with the peasant servers," hissed a woman from behind a mask of peacock feathers. She tapped the shoulder of the woman next to her. "What do you think she's doing, mingling with such inferiority?"

Volga felt a vein twitch. These humans were really starting to grate on his nerves. So callous, and quick to judge, as he had always known most of them to be. But he would control himself. He was better than that.

He stood behind a curtain from where Zelda had been conversing with someone. That 'someone' being a little girl that had apparently been hiding under a table.

"This isn't a place for children," something that sounded like a motherly scorn came from Zelda's voice. It was the first time he had heard her speak after all these years. How was this woman's voice so entrancing, even when she was scolding?

"I'm sorry, Princess Zelda," said the girl, embarrassed. The child looked so scrawny, that Volga found himself actually pitying the human. "I only came because Ma was offered to work here hauling the pots of food. Ma has problems with her back, so I came to help her."

Zelda's expression softened, and she handed the little girl something that had been on her hand… the mask the princess would have worn. It looked to be made of real silver, with glittering diamonds adorned at the corners. "Here, take my mask, and sell it tomorrow morning. You'll earn more rupees selling this than if your mother had been working for nobles all week. Go home, child. It's not safe to be here tonight."

The little girl's eyes widened. "Really? Oh, thank you, Princess! Ma will be so happy!"

"Shhh, don't tell anyone," said Zelda gently. "It's our little secret."

Volga's lips parted at this gesture. It wasn't that he was surprised, really, but it never ceased to amaze him that such acts were still prevalent in a world filled with so much greed and selfishness. And even he could not deny that he didn't exactly hold anyone else's best interest at heart. He could not give kindness to everyone, not like she could. He would rather give it all to one person instead.

Suddenly, he sensed something unusual in the air, something that no normal human sense would have been able to sniff. The scent was like ivy and alcohol mixed together, and it was so… strongly subtle, that he felt unhinged by its foreign presence. He glanced over at Zelda, to where she had grabbed a drink from one of the waiters that had served her.

His eyes widened, before he set himself into action.

Zelda had her own suspicions regarding the current circumstances, but she had no solid proof of anything as of yet. Every face was just as a likely suspect as the next. She had kept watch over every blonde head she seen, including the ones with wigs. They were all drinking, laughing, and completely oblivious that their lives might be in danger.

Was she becoming as paranoid as Impa and her father? What if her supposed premonition meant nothing? What if there was no assassin at all?

But I might have changed the outcome, she thought to herself. By not wearing a mask, I might have prevented this assassin from wasting his or her time on the wrong target…

This was all giving her a headache. She wanted to relax, to loosen herself a bit, perhaps take the bold step to ask someone for a dance when they were too terrified of doing it themselves. She almost wished she had worn a mask, but she did not regret her decision.

Zelda sighed, heading over to one of the long tables that were filled with expensive wine glasses. Not quite finding the drink she was looking for, she turned and was about to search for a different table when one of the waiters approached her, holding a tray in hand, serving drinks that had not been available on the table.

The waiter almost looked like a shadow, from the obscure, black outfit, to the samite boots - and even the skin appeared to be painted black. The mask was shaped like a beak at where the nose was, decorated with dark feathers surrounding the eyes and most of the face that reminded Zelda of a crow's feathers. The waiter held out the tray for her, offering her a drink.

"Thank you," she said, taking one of the wine glasses of red wine.

The waiter did not respond, and merely disappeared back into the crowd.

Bringing the wine glass to her lips, she was just about to take a sip, when a gloved hand from behind her suddenly wrung the glass away from her fingers, causing her drink to spill on the floor. Startled, she whirled around.

"Excuse me," she began, narrowing her eyes at him. "What do you think you're -"

"I would not drink that if I were you, Princess."

His voice was low and smooth, with a subtle hint of a growl in his tone that made her heart skip a beat too fast. Zelda raised her head to confront this man, this individual who had so rudely taken her drink away. The bridge of his nose and his mouth was all that she could see from his face. She could vaguely see his eyes, but not the color. From a distance it almost seemed as if his eyes were black voids.

This man had put some great effort into remaining hidden. She closed the distance between them, challenging him. And now he was silent, his mouth briefly agape, possibly at having her so close. He took a few steps back, though he did not seem to be aware that he was doing so. Zelda could have sworn she heard him breathing rather quickly for a moment.

Yet even in that stunned state, power seemed to exude from his very being. From his voice, to his tall frame, and distracting physique, something about him was…

It was then that Zelda noticed his actual outfit; from the top of his head, which was mostly covered from his black mask, she could see the blond ends curling slightly against his neck. A dark red cape was fastened on his back, matching with a buttoned uniform suited to a prince. A black cravat was tucked neatly from inside his jacket, giving him a royal charm that seemed strangely fitting for him.

"Look I…" Zelda's voice faltered slightly. "I don't care if you can crush walnuts with your abs. Don't think that just because you're dressed as a prince, that you can take my drink in such a way."

A smirk planted on his lips. "Crush walnuts with my abs? You flatter me."

There was no reason that smirk should have been so infuriatingly appealing, no reason why she suddenly felt so flustered before his charming demeanor. And then he spoke again, his tone more serious now. "I am sparing you from the mindless swarm of drunken men who are waiting hungrily for you to get even slightly tipsy."

Zelda opened her mouth a little at this. "You… you can't be serious?"

He looked around, and she noticed a flurry of masks quickly turn away when he looked in their direction. Something had come over him, and she was not quite sure what it was, but he was guarded, somehow. "Partially, yes," he paused. "That waiter. The one who served you your drink. Did you get a chance to see what he or she looked like? What kind of mask it was?"

The princess gave him a suspicious frown. "You know something about all of this?"

"Yes," was all he said, with surprising honesty considering his mysterious bearing. "Do not worry. I am not the assassin. For one, I don't think most assassins would be easily swayed by someone so beautiful."

His compliment had caught her completely off guard, and because he had for some reason, known of all this. That only Impa could have put him up to it, some distant hire as a result of her 'drastic' security measures. Yet her mind could not entirely wrap around this yet. The minor make-up on her cheeks were rosier than they had been originally. A shy smile graced her lips, her eyes searching his masked face with intrigued attentiveness.

And he had noticed this, too.

"Zel… Princess," there was a certain tremor in his voice, nearly slipping her first name. It seemed he was having difficulty maintaining the pieces of the mask that were starting to crumble before him.

Volga was not able to get a closer inspection of the waiter who had served Zelda, not when he had to stop her from drinking it first. All he had seen was the fleeting view of a shadow, and it vanished with the mob before he could trail after it. Interacting with her had preoccupied him.

When she had drawn so close, with that endearingly indignant look on her face after he had taken her drink - he had been quite certain he had forgotten how to breathe. Yet how could he, when the scent of cherry blossom and peach was so innocently seductive? Did this woman have any idea of what she was doing to him?

He had regained composure, of course. Because even though he couldn't reveal to her as much as both wanted, she deserved some explanation, at the very least. She had to know he would not harm her, whether she believed him or not. The very thought of this potential assassin, waiting to make its move on her at the opportune time, made him more vigilant. It would wait to catch Zelda alone. And if Zelda left Volga's side, which she undoubtably would…

So caught up with his thoughts on the princess's safety, that he did not realize the compliment that slipped from his lips, something that had come naturally to him, and yet with no barrier to hold him back. But there didn't need to be a barrier as much, did there? He was masked.

And then she smiled.

With that one smile of hers, she had stripped him of all his defenses. His mind was now a blend of two; of finding out how to keep the princess close to him so that he could watch over her - and a desire to do something he had pictured so many times, that it could have illustrated a fairy tale of his own.

Volga bowed to her, and offered her his hand.

"Princess," he said softly. "Would you please dance with me?"

I'll be your prince
I'll be your knight
I'll be anything you wish me to be
Dance with me…
I want to hold you in my arms
Before we have to go our separate paths again
Before I die more inside
Can you hear my heart pounding?
I miss you
I love you
I know we cannot be
But for tonight
Please be my princess.