Chapter 13: Water
Oak and honeysuckle.
Those had been the scents that had lingered in her mind for days. She had not been aware of much else during that time, but the more clarity that returned to her conscious, the more she was starting to familiarize with the earthly atmosphere around her. There was a remote buzzing of bees and echoes of chirping that had been chiming in with various birds. Had she been outside?
But no, that couldn't be right. Whatever it was that she had been lying on, and the material of the fabric that was draped over her body - it felt too sheltered to have been out in the open. The sound of running water and dishes being moved around, the aroma of boiled chicken, and steamed vegetables, dabbed with herbal spices… her stomach growled. Yes, she was definitely in someone's home.
"Link, would you turn off the sink?"
Link?
Quite certain she had been going hysterical, she woke with a start. Like the color of lilacs blossoming in the spring, her eyes were met with the sight of polished wood. This wood must have been the oak she was associating with, and it was everywhere; on the ceiling, the walls, and on the floor. The furniture categorized into even more variations of wood; the small couches and chairs looked to be made of birch, the tables and shelves shaped from elm, as well as the very bed she was resting on. Her fingers smoothed over the texture of the wool blanket, and then to her own clothing. It was a hand-knitted sweater that was so long, that it extended beyond her wrists and waist.
"Oh look what you've done," the woman's voice she had heard from before complained. "The water must have woken her up. Don't worry, young lady, I've just finished preparing chicken and vegetable stew. And my nephew squeezed some fresh oranges, so the juice will be sweet and tangy. How are you feeling?"
Her mind exploded with questions, but she did not know where to begin. "I don't know," she answered. "Who… who are you? And where am I?"
The stranger was a woman who looked to be around her middle-ages, possibly older. Her hair was a mousse brown, frizzy, with tinges of gray on her hairline. She was slightly chubby, rosy cheeks complimenting her smile, which gave her the appearance of having a kind face.
"My name is Jillian," she said, setting down a bowl of soup and baked bread on the night stand next to the bed. "But everyone just calls me Jill. You're in the Faron Woods, in one of the villages. The Deku Village, to be precise. Please, have something to eat."
She stared at the steam from the soup before her, too disoriented to indulge with a more civil conversation. "How did I end up here?" she asked in a small voice.
Jillian glanced at her kitchen, to where a young man had appeared from, dressed in a beige blouse and gray slacks, his blond hair disheveled as if he had just gotten out of bed. "My nephew here found you unconscious further in the Faron Woods," the woman explained. "He brought you here so we could take care of you. You've been with us for awhile now. Let me introduce you to him. This is Link. Link, this is…" she trailed off uncertainly, looking at her for an answer.
The sorceress knew that there was no way she could hide the flabbergasted expression from her face. Was this another one of her aspiring dreams? Were the goddesses trying to punish her, for having allowed some mysterious force enter her conscious? She could barely recall what happened at the time, but she knew one thing: she was not the same person she was. Whatever had remained of her, she did not know, and she was scared to find out.
Therefore, at this time, she wanted nothing to do with her title, Guardian of Time. She settled with the nickname she had been given as a child, the nickname she had heard during her more innocent years.
"My name is Lana."
"Well it's nice to meet you, Lana," said Jillian pleasantly. Link was about to formulate some kind of greeting, when a knock from the door made all three of them jump. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she said, grabbing a ring of keys that had been hanging on a pin against the wall.
Lana sat up from the bed, her hand, without thinking, searching for her staff, but it was nowhere to be seen. There was an armored soldier at the doorway, bearing the emblem of Hyrule's family crest. "May I help you, Sir?" said Jillian anxiously, opening the door a little wider, but not quite all the way.
He held up a poster, but Lana could not see what was on it from where she had been sitting. "I'm sure you must have heard of the incidents that had occurred during the night of the Masquerade Festival almost a week ago."
"Yes, I have," said Jillian solemnly. "I'm sorry to hear of that terrible ordeal. Has the culprit been caught yet?"
The man's face turned glum. "No, the culprit behind the attacks has not been caught yet, but we're still investigating. I came here however, to ask if anyone has seen this man. His name is Duncan and he's been missing since that night." He pointed to the fine print on the poster that detailed his physical description. "We've already asked everyone in Hyrule Castle Town, and now we're expanding our search beyond there."
Jillian and Link shook their heads. "I'm afraid I have not heard of, or seen this man," she replied. "I'm sorry."
He sighed. "I expected as much. If you see or hear anything regarding his whereabouts, please contact your local courier, or any of our soldiers, as soon as you can. Thank you for your time."
And with that, he left. Jillian closed the door behind her, rereading the poster as she went to take a seat on her chair. "By the Deku Tree's gnarly roots, who would do such a thing? Not just an assassination attempt among a crowd of innocent people, but to set loose a monster like that? Where did this monster come from anyway? What kind of monster simply vanishes after being slain, leaving nothing of its body behind?"
The kind of monster that has been conjured, Lana thought, feeling a growing unease.
"Aunt Jill," said Link, speaking for the first time. His voice was humbly low, but not deep. "I've been thinking. Ever since those attacks, I've been seeing more announcements for those who want to enlist in the Hylian army. If I could join their recruits -"
The woman's friendly demeanor turned livid, and she instantly cut him off before he could continue. "Absolutely not. They have sufficient men right now, and I'm sure they'll be having some more soon. You are too young to be throwing your life for blood."
"But -"
"No, Link. You already have that post man job that you will be starting out tomorrow. You like to travel, and you're light on your feet. This is the ideal position for you," she gave a fervent nod, agreeing with herself. "Now, where and when are you supposed to be meeting with the boss who will brief you over the duties of a courier?"
"The North Field Ranch at sun rise," Link grumbled. "The owner of the ranch will be doing the briefing, and if it all goes well, I will also be able to use one of their horses."
"I'm sure it will all work out," said his aunt, looking more cheery now.
Still displeased but choosing not to argue, Link faced the bookshelf, picking up a large tome that had been aloof from the rest of the books. "By the way," he said, turning to Lana. "When I found you, I found this. This was all you had in your possession."
Lana's eyes widened as he addressed her, for she was used to spectating events, rather than being present during them. As Link handed her the book, she noticed, upon closer inspection, that it was the Book of Sorcery, her spell book that used to sit on top of the same table as her crystal ball. If this was all Link found on her, this could only mean…
I will separate you into two. Your weaker side will be cast away, as a separate being, into the depths of this forest, far away from here. And your stronger side, will be safe with me. Together, we will share your body.
As that commanding voice replayed itself in her memory, she curled her fingers tightly over the cover of the book that now sat on her lap.
She had surmised that her… other half must have kept her staff, while Lana acquired her spell book. Somehow, she did not feel like this was a good trade. Her staff had been her source of power. It wasn't that she needed a staff to be able to cast spells, it was because her spells were not as strong without it. But that had been the point, hadn't it? She was meant to be the weaker side.
"I found this too," said Link, noticing her disappointed expression. At first Lana wasn't sure what it was that he was trying to show her. It was an article of clothing that had been folded, and as Lana unfolded it, she began to recognize the patterns, the soft orchid and white hues of what had once been her Guardian of Time outfit, was now torn.
Jillian pointed to a long cut on the side of the attire. "If you look here, this doesn't appear to be an ordinary rip. This cut is symmetrical, almost as if intended to be cut perfectly in half." She furrowed her eyebrows worriedly. "Tell me, Lana, do you remember anything that had happened to you before you woke up today? I can understand if you do not wish to share anything too personal, but please know that we want to help you. Do you remember anyone… trying to attack you at any point?"
Lana bit her lip. "I don't remember much. Anyone trying to attack me? I don't…" she hesitated, not knowing how to continue. Link set down the glass of orange juice next to her soup, exchanging a look with his aunt.
"Let's just give her some time," he suggested. "She hasn't been awake long, and you're already bombarding her with questions."
The woman gave Lana an apologetic expression. "Oh you're absolutely right, Link. I'm terribly sorry. I did not mean to impose. Now don't mind this rattling old lady, and have some food. You've barely been able to put anything in your mouth without Link trying to feed you mouthfuls when you were unconscious."
"Aunt Jill," Link whined, running a hand through the back of his hair. "You don't need to go into details."
Even after Lana had finished the meal given to her, even after they offered her a quaint guest room for her to sleep in, she still couldn't believe this was real. She was reluctant at the idea of going to sleep, of waking up back in her manor, back to those dominating whispers in her head and maddening loneliness.
She glared at her reflection in the mirror. Her short, lavender hair was a… problem, to say the least. If she was to truly try and separate herself from what she had been, this was the first change she would have to make.
Lana thumbed through the pages of her spell book, trying to find the section that covered appearance and alterations. Taking her time to make sure she properly understood the instruction of the spell, she grabbed a handful of her hair, holding them by the ends.
As if pulling invisible strands, she carefully began to stretch her hair, a blue glow surrounding her fingertips as she did so. The tresses grew longer and longer - until they brushed along the middle of her back. Satisfied with the length, she returned back to her book, her finger trailing down the page.
She stopped on the drawing of a diagram that contained circles of every basic color, the name of the color, and the spell for each. The basic colors branched into a category called advanced colors, which basically contained more variations of colors. The more complicated the color, the more complicated the spell.
But which one to choose for her hair?
Blonde was tempting, for it would strike a resemblance to the princess she had always been so envious of. On the other hand, a reddish or copper hue could have matched with the snarky and playful nature of Midna, the Spirit of the Hero's questionably close companion from the Twilight Era. She experimented with various tones, and grimaced, deciding that she did not want to stick to a natural pigment.
When her hair settled on a teal blue, there was a soft tap on her door. Regardless of whether or not this had been the room offered to her, this wasn't her room, so she had no right to reject anyone from coming in.
"Come in," she said distractedly, snapping shut her book. She watched the reflection of her door from the mirror as Link stepped inside, and she immediately looked away, afraid that if she didn't, she would stare shamelessly and unsettle him. "Oh, hello… Link." Still not used to using his name to the actual owner, rather than in context, the name sounded foreign from her lips.
Link looked a bit puzzled at her change of appearance, but to her relief, he did not question her. He was holding a stack of clothing, and set it on her dresser. "Aunt Jill went through her closet to find some smaller clothes of hers. She washed and ironed them for you. There's… some clothing of mine as well that don't fit me anymore, like that sweater you're wearing. I can understand if you don't want to wear those, but I figured you would like to have more options. If you need anything, just let either one of us know."
"Thank you, that's very kind of both of you," said Lana. She did not mention to Link that she had planned on creating a couple of outfits for herself with her spells, or well, it didn't seem like the appropriate thing to say at the moment. Those spells were a challenge, and would take more time for her to research.
"Lana?"
"Yes?" she said quickly. A little too quickly.
Link leaned his body against her door frame, surveying her with interest. "Do you know me from somewhere?"
No, I've only known of you across the ages and time, she thought sarcastically. "What makes you say that?"
He slumped his shoulders. "I don't know. You seemed really surprised to see me when we were introducing ourselves. I'm not sure how to explain it, but it was like there was familiarity in your eyes." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued. "I wondered if you were like me in that way."
"What do you mean?" said Lana curiously. He had her full attention now.
Link seemed to be contemplating on how to express his thoughts to her in a way that made sense. "Sometimes, I'll come across something or even someone, that I feel as if I've known from somewhere before. I'm not sure from where or when - it's as if I've went through experiences that I have no memory of," he gave a lopsided grin. "Sorry, I probably sound a bit strange to you."
Nonplussed, Lana tried to remain collected over the eagerness that swept over her, at the implications and possibilities of what Link's explanation could mean. "It could just be déjà vu," she said calmly. "Was there anything in particular that stood out to you?"
"Several," said Link, counting them with his fingers. "The Deku Tree, for instance, that sits right outside my aunt's home. Even that creature they are calling the Manhandla, when I saw the description, I felt it too. I just think… maybe I could do something useful with these connections."
"Is this why you're interested in joining the Hylian recruits?"
He made an unenthusiastic sound. "I dislike fighting." Now this was unheard of. This was the figure who had been the very epitome of fighting throughout history.
"But I'm good at it," he grunted. "Picking up a sword to me is as natural as drinking water."
"If you dislike it," Lana reasoned. "Why go through the trouble, then?"
She felt perhaps, that she was digging into areas that would be more personal, and she was about to retract her question, when Link responded.
"Because this world is precious to me," he said simply. "My aunt, the villagers, and that which is beyond the Faron Woods. I may not know much about our history or the past wars, but if something was to happen to these lands, I want to be out there to protect it. Aunt Jill may have refused the idea of me joining the recruits, but I promise you… if news of more threats reach my ears, that will be the first thing I will do."
There it was. Those traits she had seen in the soul of the Spirit of the Hero for countless generations. The traits she coveted… and the traits she despised.
The week that followed the Masquerade Festival did not cease to astonish Volga. Everywhere he went that included humans in the vicinity, he would frequently be intersected in the hallways and from his daily activities. The humans would greet him, praise his battling prowess, sometimes they even bowed - looking up to him as if he had been some kind of deity. Was this what it was like to be treated as a hero? He always assumed it would get irritating after awhile, but he found… that it wasn't really all that bad.
Or well, maybe his ego climbed up a few notches.
"I think you like the attention," Zelda teased, as she, Impa, and him walked down the corridor together. They had been on their way to visit the tailor and smith the king had requested. Zelda had managed to convince Volga to have sturdy armor forged for him, likely cause she didn't want him to take that kind of damage again, whether it was for her cause or otherwise.
"But they just come to me," Volga made a growling huff. "I never knew I had the potential to be so approachable."
"Mhm hm," said Zelda cheekily. "To be honest though, I think it's a nice change of pace. You've been shunned too much in the past… and it's about time for them to see you in a more positive perspective."
"What would be nice," Impa groused. "Is if we can make it to the workshop, without being stopped in our tracks every ten steps."
This wasn't entirely an exaggeration. It wasn't even two minutes before they had spun around in the corner, not far from the medical wing - when an adult male wearing a noble suit, hobbled toward them. He was using a pair of wooden crutches to support his weight. Nearly his entire right leg was covered in a hard, white wrap. It was the human that Volga and Zelda had rescued from the Manhandla.
He removed his top hat, tipping it in a courteous greeting. "It is an honor to be in your presences," he said gratefully. "I would have lost my leg, or worse, if it weren't for your actions. I cannot thank you two enough for saving my life. May the goddesses forever smile upon you."
Saying you're welcome were two words Volga had never used much until this past week. Yes, he had studied enough about human behavior and court etiquette, far more, perhaps than the average cave dweller would. But despite everything, he was still not used to being treated with such respect from humans. So the manners did not always come naturally to him.
"I hate to interrupt," said Impa impatiently. "But we all have much to do. I haven't even started my own schedule of the day."
When they finished their exchange and bid good-bye, Volga and Zelda picked up the pace behind Impa. They passed by a few servants who had been cleaning the windows and supervising a small group of children. Every head turned in their direction, as the children gasped and pointed at them. Before the servants could even say anything, the children dashed toward Volga and Zelda.
"Oh for -" Impa muttered under her breath, trying to refrain herself from swearing in front of them.
"Volga, right?" one of the little boys asked. A girl next to him held up a notepad and quill, and she spoke up eagerly. "And the princess too! Oh please, please sign your names for us?"
"Look, kids, we have to go," said Impa, and when sadness and disappointment displayed on their faces, she sighed. "You'll have to catch them some other time. We have very important matters -"
Zelda kneeled in front of the children, the trace of a smile gracing her lips. "Impa, it's alright," she said decisively. "We'll make time for them. Here, let me see that notepad."
Something about the sight made Volga content in a way he could not really comprehend.
He had seen her interact with children before, and seeing it again led to an intriguing observation. Volga noticed that when she was in the company of most adults, her smiles took more effort, and her rigid posture signified her tension. Since her eyes were not easy to read, he could tell by the movement of her lips, and how she breathed. Her bottom lip would tighten when she was anxious, and her breathing would come out in subtle, but uneven rasps when she was stressed.
With children however, she appeared more at ease. Her shoulders were relaxed, likely from not feeling as much pressure. And her smile was natural, not a mask meant to please the public, but by her own will to do so. It was a rare sight, but one he enjoyed seeing more of.
When it had been his turn to sign, he took the quill and peered down at the notepad. There, was the ink of Zelda's elegant signature. Images of two children studying in a dim, candle-lit room flashed back from his memory.
"What is the first word you would like to learn?"
"Zelda. I would like to learn how to write your name."
Without even knowing it, Volga had scribbled his name next to hers, then handed the notepad and quill back to the pleased children.
To avoid further interruptions, Impa walked so fast, that they nearly began to jog to keep up with her. They finally made it to the workshop, and stood before the door. There was a sign hanging from a nail that read, Hammer and Needle, displaying the design of a hammer and needle criss-crossing each other, a thread wrapped around them. Impa knocked on the door, seeming apprehensive, even though they had reached their destination.
"I just hope that powdered clown hasn't misplaced her needle in her curls," said Impa with gritted teeth, as they all waited.
Volga cast Zelda a questioning look. "I take it she doesn't like this human very much?"
"I swear, these two suddenly reverse in aging when they bicker," said Zelda, shaking her head. "They detest each other. Impa usually tries to avoid stepping foot in this shop whenever she can."
Volga wondered vaguely if this was why Impa seemed particularly moody today. The Sheikah crossed her arms in her chest. "I don't mind her husband," she interjected. "He's logical and level-headed. But her -"
The door opened, and the most eccentric human woman Volga had ever seen stepped forward. Her wild, red curls bounced as she adjusted her headband. A headband with a… pin cushion that was somehow attached stylishly to the side. She was very pale, the powder on her skin giving her the semblance of a porcelain doll. Her dark eye-liner was thick, and made a loop at the corner of her eyes. She clapped her hands once in front of her with unrestrained enthusiasm.
"It's great to see you again, Princess. You look lovely as always. You could still use a little sun on your skin though, sweetheart," she advised.
Impa drummed her fingers along her still-crossed arms. "The princess doesn't exactly have the time to be sun bathing, unlike you. Not that it would matter anyway, since you'd just rub make-up all over your skin."
As if the woman hadn't heard her, she turned to greet Volga. Gold glimmered on her eyelashes and eyeshadow when she blinked, her burgundy painted lips slightly open in awe. "And you must be the Dragon Knight we've heard so much about. I mean, my husband and I saw you at the Masquerade Festival, but I never actually had the honor to speak with you until now. My name is Lady Eveline. I am the tailor and enchantress of this castle, and well… the best one in Hyrule."
Volga heard Impa make incoherent noises from her throat, and he doubted it was anything pleasant.
"Is that them, honey?" a human man called out from the room. "Hang on, I'm coming."
It was only a few seconds and some mechanical noises in the background, before the human showed up to speak with them. Black hair clung to his forehead, likely from how hard he had been working, his trimmed beard moving with his mouth when he spoke.
"The name's Sir Martel, owner of this workshop. I'm in charge of forging armor, and I also specialize in sculpturing. My wife handles the measuring, designs, and enchanting. It's a pleasure."
Unlike his wife, he did not wear anything outlandish, but his attire was not as fancy as typical noble wear. This made sense, since he was a smith, and getting something such as coal stains on his clothing was to be expected. He wore a simple blacksmith apron over a brown shirt and dark slacks. There were pockets on the apron, filled with wrenches, nails, a hammer, and other tools.
Once the greetings were established, the couple motioned for them to enter the workshop. Eveline's pumpkin orange robes swiveled when she turned around, and the three of them followed her inside.
The place was one of the more unusual rooms he had seen in the castle. For one, it was a private shop, specialized to serve the castle, and not out in the market place, where most of the land's economy ran business at.
About half of the room contained shelves packed with thread rolls and colored yarns, sacks of cotton, boxes of fabric that ranged from silk, velvet, and more. There were mannequins with labels along the arms, neck, and waist. Sketchbook pages hung on the wall, displaying various designs, both clothing and armor.
The other half of the room contained forging equipment; a grindstone to sharpen weapons, a work bench with an anvil and hammer in front of it, an active smelter with trays of assorted ore. Finally, there was a tanning rack at the corner and a table next to it covered with pieces of leather and furs.
"Well," said Eveline, gesturing for them to commence at her area first. "Let us begin."
"Hold still for just a few minutes longer," said Eveline, her brows pinched together with the utmost focus as she wrapped the tape measure around Volga's upper arm, before jotting down numbers on the labels of a male mannequin.
Impa made a disgruntled sound. "We've been here for almost twenty minutes. My soldiers have been expecting me since this morning. How much longer is it going to take?"
Eveline shot Impa a scowl. "I'm sorry, dear. But there is much of him to measure, you see. If you can't possibly wait another half an hour, I suggest you go see your soldiers then. This type of work takes time and creativity. I'm not going to rush this down with only half of my effort, just so you can go around swinging your barbaric weapons sooner."
It was as if electricity bolted in the air.
"Our barbaric weapons is why you get to wave your fingers, and flaunt your ridiculous nail polishes," Impa retorted.
"At least I would have nails to flaunt."
"Ladies, ladies," Martel put his hands out in front of him in exasperation.
Zelda looked at them crossly from where she was also being attended to. Since they already had her most recent measurements still with them, the tailor only needed to create a design for her. "Why don't you two calm down?"
When it looked like neither Eveline or Impa would back down, the Sheikah finally conceded. "Fine," she said, heading for the door. "This is just taking too much time. Volga, whenever you're done here, join the soldiers at the training ground. I will be having a quick practice session with you. Princess, don't forget to train the court mages at noon."
After she had left, Eveline sighed. "What is that woman's issue anyway? I've been saying this for years, but she really needs to find someone to give her some adventure under the sheets -"
"Eveline!" Zelda scolded, looking embarrassed, amused, and annoyed all at once. Volga had to cough the chortle he had been trying to hold back.
"But it's true!" the tailor pressed on. "You would think a little romance might cheer her up. She's always so grumpy and uptight. And she never trusts anyone." Then she gave a guilty sigh. "I suppose I can't blame her entirely. After what happened to her best friend and everything."
Volga looked bewildered, as the tailor placed the tape measure around her neck, adding a few more numbers to her labels. "What, you haven't heard?" she said in surprise.
He shook his head, and the tailor glimpsed at Zelda and her husband, making sure neither looked against her continuing. When no one said anything, Eveline took their silence as a hesitant approval.
"It was a long time ago, before the current king's generation even," she said, lowering her voice. "Impa is quite old, you see. We do not even know how old she is exactly. But she's been exposed to more experiences than any of us, so she's far more… affirmative with how she holds herself, and how she views others."
"Anyway," she proceeded, taking a massive sketchpad, and a thin piece of charcoal that was made for drawing. "Impa had a close friend that worked in the castle with her. He was the court wizard, and the king's advisor. He worked here several years, and from what's been said, the two had practically been inseparable. Some speculated that they were lovers, others said they were only friends. But… she was betrayed."
From the corner of his eye, Volga noticed Zelda's face was downcast, clearly having known of this story and disheartened at the direction it was heading toward. He felt an inexplicable urge to take her hands in his.
"The corruption of the Ultimate Power, the Triforce, has continued to smear blood throughout time," said Eveline darkly. "The wizard had become obsessed with obtaining this relic, and he used their friendship as a means of getting closer to the Royal Family. Since he ended up becoming the king's advisor, he had gained much of his trust. But the king eventually began to see through him, and when the wizard asked him for the Triforce one day, he refused him. The king was found dead three days later."
An uncomfortable silence fell between everyone, as Eveline quietly began her sketch, peering at Volga as she did so, outlining his body frame. "There was never any proof found that the king was murdered by him, so people could only speculate. Before that even happened, Impa had offered the wizard a place among the Sheikah. Whether or not he officially became one, only Impa knows."
"What happened to him?" Volga asked.
"He died," Eveline's husband answered, who had only been listening up until this point. "But there had been accounts stating that he was searching for magic that would help him sustain life after death. No one really knew the manner of his death, but the rumors pointed to Impa herself being the one to kill him. Do you remember the commotion with the ring from years ago? The one at the graveyard, where a Goron Captain had to come here to take the ring to be buried elsewhere?"
The Dragon Knight nodded. That had been the day Zelda found out about his dragon form.
"Well, it was believed that the wizard had been buried in that very same graveyard."
Eveline placed her materials to the side, and stood up. "Alright," she said, trying to liven the energy in the room. "That's enough morbid chatter for now, let's move onwards to the next step. I have measurements for the both of you, so what I must decide next is the style I want to go for."
Volga didn't say much for awhile as the tailor began to make a list of ideas, sometimes making a quick sketch along the side for a visual run-through. He wondered how much of the story was accurate and if it was - if this was one of the reasons why Impa was the way she was. He felt like he could understand her general mistrust a little better now. And could she really have been friends with that wizard, possibly lovers? Where was the fine line between friendship and love?
"I think I have just the thing in mind," said Eveline, an inspired glint in her eyes as she surveyed Volga and Zelda closely. "Your outfits from the Masquerade Festival."
The blacksmith scratched his head. "But love, those are all shredded up from their battle, and no armor aside from the couple of pieces on the princess's dress."
"Exactly," said his wife brightly. "We will use the armored parts of her dress, give them a nice upgrade, but redesign the actual dress for battle purposes. For one, the hem of her dress would have to be shorter," she fiercely began to draw her idea onto her sketchbook. "The reason for this is because her typical dress tends to reach her feet, and this wouldn't be practical for fighting. She needs to be able to move her legs at a constant pace, without worrying about tripping over the hem. I think having two slits for each leg might also facilitate her movement."
Zelda leaned in to watch her draw. "Wouldn't my legs be a little revealing?" she asked, her voice almost shy.
Eveline laughed heartily, and shook her head. "My dear, you have nothing to worry about. There will be an underskirt for you, right below your waist, and your boots will be almost knee-length, so there won't be that much exposure of your skin. Besides," she gave a naughty wink. "You have a birthday coming up in a few days. With you becoming of age, and men already fawning over you, this will further appeal them. Never forget the woman's ability to attract. It can be be just as potent as any weapon."
If there was one thing Volga could agree on with this human, this was one of them.
"Come to think of it," Martel mused. "Aren't we supposed to be receiving a batch of new recruits tomorrow, or a few days before her birthday? I was told most of them were from other kingdoms, and had some ties with noble blood from the likes of counts, dukes, and more."
His wife nodded, as she worked the corset and sleeves of the rough draft for Zelda's battle raiment. "Indeed. You know what this means? Most of those men will likely want to court you, Your Highness. I wouldn't be surprised if competition rose among them to see who can impress you the most."
Zelda sighed."I must confess, I haven't really had much time to dwell on such matters."
"But you know, it will only be a matter of time before the subject of matrimony comes up," Eveline chattered on energetically. "Your father will likely want to expand our alliances soon, and marriage could persuade some more parties to join. With the man you would want, of course."
Volga looked down at his hands. Back when Amusei and Jules had mentioned royal marriage, and how Zelda would inevitably have to distance herself from her friendship with him, Volga had felt something similarly painful. That familiar fear was rekindled, and became something more. It was akin to envy, when he'd imagine how fortunate a prince was to be able to betroth a princess. And now, the thought of seeing those new recruits tomorrow, or any human attempt to court Zelda for that matter - irked him.
Their voices had become muffled for a few minutes, and Lady Eveline had to repeat her question a few times before his attention returned to the present situation. "Sorry," he said, his voice a bit harsher than he had expected. "What did you ask me again?"
"I asked if you liked the idea of wearing a dragon's skull as a helmet," the tailor said promptly.
"I still don't think a dragon would exactly enjoy wearing bones of his kind. It'd be like us trying to make skeleton armor for ourselves," said Martel dismissively.
Eveline rolled her eyes. "It wouldn't be an actual dragon skull, darling. The helmet would need to be sculptured as a replica of a dragon's skull."
Volga took a seat, exhaling silently. "My clan and mentor have a great fondness for Volvagia. If there was any dragon I would replicate something from, it would be him."
She scribbled this on her notes, and began to circle around him, her sketchbook in hand. "The red you wore to the ball suited you perfectly, I believe I will make red the primary color for your armor. It embodies power and passion, and you give off those vibes."
"And then," she went on, adding more notes. "I want to add some interesting touches to the upper plate, and shoulders. I think… yes, we can try having the armor around your shoulders imitate dragon wings. I shall definitely enchant your armor too. I will need to find a way for your armor to readjust to when you change forms, and perhaps a way for you to be able to store heat, which could help you when you unleash fire. These enchantments will take some time to arrange."
"Love, I believe we've kept them here long enough for today. I'm sure you two have much to do," said Martel. "We will commence with what we have for now, and keep you updated with our progress."
Eveline finished sketching for the moment. "Yes, you're probably right, we didn't mean to keep you both here for so much time. But Volga, there is something I've been meaning to ask you. You've probably had this question asked many times."
Volga looked at her expectingly, and she continued. "Well, I've always wondered. How is it that someone like you, and who has been raised in a cave for a portion of your life - is so well-cultured? Please, do not see this as an insult, I'm frankly impressed, and curious. Sometimes, you have better manners than other royal families who have visited our kingdom. It couldn't have been easy to take the time to research and teach yourself, living among the Lizalfos. So why did you do it?"
"It wasn't easy, no," said Volga, remembering how frequently his clan would try to discourage him from bothering with studying. "But just because you may not be good at something initially, it doesn't mean you can't try to improve. My motivation for improving was what kept me going," he said, his eyes briefly meeting blue. "And still is."
Throughout the day, Zelda found her mind wandering, particularly when she was alone. By the time she was done with her tasks, she was relieved to be back in her bed room. Even after her visit at Hammer and Needle, she had spent time managing important paperwork for her kingdom, had her usual battle session, and then she had to train the court mages on how to build stronger wards around the castle. This didn't even account for all the other people she had to contend with that demanded her attention.
And then Volga… she did not know how to voice it, exactly. Sometimes it was in the way he looked at her, or when they spoke. There was something strangely alluring about him, something that made her heart flutter when he was in her presence. She thought at first, that this was normal… she had just been reunited with her friend, after all. But it had been a week already, and these foreign feelings were only growing stronger.
But just because you may not be good at something initially, it doesn't mean you can't try to improve…
Her eyes fixated upon the storage trunk at the foot of her bed. The trunk was shaped like a treasure chest, with a lock between the bottom and the lid. Zelda inserted the key into the lock, and opened it. There, on top of a few other personal possessions, was her harp. She hadn't played it in years.
Whether it was Volga's words that inspired her, or something else - she felt a desire to relive the sounds of music from her harp. She wondered if she should bother with placing a silence ward around her walls, in case anyone would hear. She wanted to play, but was hesitant at the idea of anyone listening. With a soft sigh, she carried her harp in her arms, and opened the glass doors to her balcony.
The sky was cloudless tonight, a steel blue and gray stretched across the horizon. Light from the half-moon illuminated her court yard, keeping company to the shadows. She spotted one of her guards from afar, heading inside the castle to finish his shift for the day. She saw the long leaves of her willow tree dance with the breeze, like a flowing curtain. And beneath this tree, from where a guard post was located, was Volga.
He was leaning his back against the tree trunk, his body mostly concealed by a black cape over his Hylian uniform. His dragon pike was next to him, and every once in awhile he would scan the area, weapon in hand. Ever since he had been given the guard post outside her balcony, she had an easier time sleeping. Sometimes she'd step out to her balcony to bid him goodnight before she went to sleep.
"Volga," she called out to him, audible enough for him to hear, but so that others would not, if they happened to be in the area.
The Dragon Knight looked up, blond hair almost silver from the lighting. He greeted her, and she felt an unusual giddiness inside her that she did not dare show. But it must have caught on to her voice, because when she spoke up again, she did not sound as formal and refined as she often did.
"Do you think you can," she said timidly. "Do you think you can come up here?"
She couldn't see the look on his face from the height she was in, but she knew he must have been confused. "Up there?" he asked. "Are you sure?"
The princess nodded, and though Volga seemed hesitant at first, he complied with her request. Using his wings, he half-flew, half-climbed the tree, perching upon a thick branch that faced her balcony, close enough for them to have a conversation, but far enough so that he wasn't in her balcony space. Not that she would have minded, but this would do for now.
Zelda saw his gaze swivel toward her harp. He had noticed - of course he had noticed. "I," she began, looking down at the instrument in her arms. "I'm not sure why I brought this. I feel like playing but…"
"You're still afraid of playing in front of others," he finished for her. It was amazing how he could sometimes seemingly read her thoughts. There were times that Impa, and not even her father, would be able to see through her.
She cracked a laugh. "At this point, I think it's even worse, since I haven't practiced in years."
"Is it something you love?" he asked, his eyes locking with hers.
For a moment, Zelda thought she wouldn't be able to speak. She was not sure if it was the intensity of the effect in how he had asked her that, or if the question itself struck her into wonder.
Zelda brushed her fingers lightly on a single string, but without enough of a tug to emit a sound. She already knew exactly what sound it would make. She remembered the notes of the songs she had been taught, had studied the music sheets frequently in private, even though she could never bring herself to play. Impa and her father had probably long forgotten that she had been interested in the harp.
"I do," she said with certainty. "It was one of the very few things I had to help me keep my mind off all the qualms here at home. It's a bit like reading a story you become immersed in. The music notes are like the text of the story. The plot and characters are the sounds - the music itself. They can move the readers, or turn them away."
Volga shifted slightly on the branch. "You're worried you'll turn them away."
Zelda felt rather foolish for displaying such a mundane weakness of hers, when there were more pressing fears to be concerned about. She spun to face her room, considering putting away her harp back in her treasure chest, when Volga spoke up.
"Princess," he said warmly. "Play for me."
She froze, her back to him from where she stood. "I remember what you told me long ago," he continued. "About the prince who turned away when he heard you play, when you wanted to impress him. I won't turn away. Don't worry about what the others think right now. It's just you and me."
Turning to face him, her hands clasped at the column of her harp. There was a sincerity in the way he had said that, in the way he was looking at her now. He actually wanted her to play, to pursue something she was passionate about.
"I… won't be very good at this," she admitted. Why did this all seem so familiar to her? This was like when they had danced, hadn't it? She had been uncertain at first, not having danced in a long time, but Volga had encouraged her then. And he was encouraging her now.
"Better than I would," he said, smirking. "Don't worry about how it sounds. Think of what you feel when the sounds are produced from your fingertips."
Zelda positioned the harp accordingly, her fingers skimming over the strings. She tentatively plucked the first note, the sound quietly reverberating in the air with wavering determination. Were the sounds really reflecting upon how she felt? Was this why she had played so poorly in front of that prince long ago? She never had any particular attachment to him, only a childish urge to impress.
Closing her eyes, she allowed the music to flow through her, the notes not perfect, but gentle. She imagined a lake, reflecting the sky at dusk. Every now and then, the wind would breathe over the water's surface, creating ripples, like goosebumps reacting to a lover's touch. The calm waves of an ancient song coursed through her.
Time passes, people move... Like a river's flow, it never ends... A childish mind will turn to noble ambition... Young love will become deep affection... The clear water's surface reflects growth. Now listen to the Serenade of Water to reflect upon yourself…
- Sheik (Ocarina of Time)
A smile formed at her lips, and she felt serenity. "What do you think of it so far?"
She opened her eyes and saw Volga, his expression was utterly indiscernible, but when he spoke, his voice was almost breathless.
"You… that," his normally smooth speech could not narrow down the words he wanted to say. "It was like you were able to put everything aside, and become lost in another world. You looked so relaxed, and it reflected on the notes. It was… peaceful."
And then… they both noticed it. There was a bubble floating near her, but it was not caused from natural means. "What is that?" he asked curiously. "Is that magic?"
"I think," said Zelda excitedly. "Volga, I think this was caused from the song I played. You see, my old music instructor told me that there was power in certain songs. I always thought she meant that as a metaphor." The bubble drifted away into the sky. "I have yet to find out what it does, but perhaps if I practiced more, I can find out."
The Dragon Knight grinned. "This is all the more reason for you to play more often."
"I feel happy," she said, watching him appreciatively. "You have no idea what you've done for me tonight."
"If this makes you happy, Princess," he assured her. "I would be honored to be here to listen to you play anytime you wish."
Impa walked in to the sight of books piled all over the king's study, and scrolls scattered across his desk. She could barely even see the king sitting in his chair, due to how high the tower of books had reached. "Your Majesty," she said worriedly. "Are you alright? It's rather late, aren't you tired?"
The King of Hyrule sighed as he put down one of the books, Hyrule's Bestiary. He massaged the sides of his temples, only now noticing the headache that had formed there. "I was hoping I could find more information on the Manhandla, and those shadow assassins."
"Ah," Impa acknowledged. "Have you found anything?"
"Not much," he said wearily. "But the clothing those assassins wore are so similar to the clothing the Spirit of the Hero wore, from other eras, most notably the headwear. That scarf, however, is not something I've seen before. If only their bodies hadn't disappeared, I would have been able to inspect their clothing more closely. Zelda believes they were summoned, and I'm starting to believe it too."
Impa took a bottle of wine, two glasses, and poured him a modest amount. She then filled one for herself, and brought the rim to her lips. "Do you not find it strange that the Guardian of Time gave no warning of this?" she quipped. "You would think she would have foreseen an abnormal, carnivorous plant terrorizing the court yard, and impostures of the Spirit of the Hero upon the princess."
"Yes, I do," the king agreed. "But the way her visions work are not always so simple. She cannot see everything whenever it suits her. From what she explained to me, they come to her when they do. I'm certain she would have tried to warn us if she had seen this coming."
Neither said anything for awhile, and then the king spoke up again. "Yet, I cannot help but question her vision regarding Volga. The Volga she described is not the Volga we have right now. It's possible there might have been a mistake, in what she saw."
The Sheikah frowned. "I saw the vision from the orb she gave me, Your Majesty. It looked very real, albeit not plausible with his current actions. But that does not mean we should ignore her warning. Sometimes I'm skeptical of such magic, but you should know that I of all people, know what it's like to be betrayed by someone I trust." She chugged the rest of her drink.
"I do believe we should be cautious still, but we cannot assume everyone is going to be a traitor, Impa," said the king gently. "I will be honest. I don't see Volga betraying the kingdom, not of his own will. He cares a great deal for Zelda."
Impa nodded. "That I cannot disagree on, but I will be keeping an eye on him now and then, just in case. I'll also have you know that he's very powerful now. He's not that insecure child that could barely pick up a war hammer without falling to the ground. I've sparred with him a number of times from our practice sessions, and I cannot defeat him. At best, we are even."
The king sipped his wine. "Even the most powerful warriors have weaknesses. I wouldn't fret too much over this at the moment, but it certainly is appreciated to stay alert. I've actually considered the idea of having Volga occasionally fly over the land to scan for anything unusual. We've seriously overlooked how useful having protection from above can be."
"That, and simply having him fly above the castle would be making a statement," said Impa. "Our enemies will have to deal with a dragon when trying to sabotage us. That is rather clever."
He moved some of the scrolls to the side, making space for him to write. "In the meantime, I will be writing a letter to the sorceress. Perhaps we can get an update from her regarding what's going on, and what we can do to plan ahead. Those new recruits are supposed to be arriving tomorrow, correct?"
"Yes," Impa responded, inwardly groaning. It was one thing for her to interact with her soldiers, men she would see on a daily basis. But these men from distant kingdoms, and their supposed royal blood, tended to be some of the most self-centered snobs she had ever seen, and she had been around nobles for a long time, too.
It would be a long day tomorrow.