Author's Note: Glad ff is back up! Read archive for updated chapters! - next chapter comes out July 26. Thank you so mcuh for reading.
Chapter Seven
The girls were giddy that Zelda joined – all seven ushered her into a busy straw booth where drunken guests had been singing off-key to a banjo. Among the seven was a tall brunette with neatly plaited hair, three others the same button-nose, two young girls about the ages of ten and twelve, and, of course, the redhead who had pushed the banjoist out the other side. A broken chord. The girls laughed, "Maybe sing us a love song, and we'll let you sit!"
Bystanders howled, belting the song acapella, swollen cheeks blazing, sloshing their beers left and right. Zelda dodged a splash, getting an elbow to the stomach as hands shot out in all different directions, stealing snacks, beers, and mugs of tea from passing guests who took no notice amidst the chaos. A frenzy ensued – girlish giggles, buttered bread on chipped plates, expletives, and the fwip of shuffling cards while rain drummed against the tent's canopy. It was loud, muggy, and overwhelming, bonking knees with strangers while squished between rotund thighs, but the secret Princess of Hyrule swooned at every bit of life.
Crumbs littered the table – the redhead swatted them away before chomping down on another slice of bread, "The name's Messa, by the way – copperhead over there is my sister, Imme, and brownie with the cards is the eldest and best of us, and the rest are my good-for-nothing cousins who aren't important."
"What!?" Complained a cousin, spilling her drink, "Is your wing-woman not important?"
"Gods, Fal!" Messa spat, lapping up the spill with the hem of her apron. "Keep your drink to yourself! – and what a wing-woman you turned out to be!"
"Fallon, you made the table sticky."
"Oh, bite me," droned the girl named Fallon."Ya'll can put up with a sticky table after the embarrassment Messa put us through last night."
"A wingwoman is loyal through and through!"
"You obliterated the man's lute, Mes! – don't show off a round-house kick if you don't know how to do a round-house kick!"
"Almost took out his jaw too." Commented Imme.
"Destroyed the bard's entire career."
"No saving the party after that."
"And you practically injured that poor banjoist just now."
"What?" Messa blushed, "I have a thing for bards!"
The girls laughed, allowing Zelda to catch her breath from the repartee. Captivating was the word – every giggle, glare, and stuck-out tongue showcasing the dynamic dramas of familial love. What a show, thought Zelda, drinking in the details as another fwip of shuffling cards raptured the group. A slice of buttered bread was offered, which Zelda hesitantly obliged - she hadn't been hungry since the arriving at the stable two nights ago, but the steaming loaf tempted her fast. She nibbled at the flakey crust. Fresh sourdough – no doubt made by Lawdon, the stable master, who barred himself off in the kitchen while guests flitted around him for loaves.
"Is that your natural hair color?" Asked the youngest, pointing at Zelda across the booth. Zelda flustered, fixing the shawl on her head, "Wait! Don't hide it! It's pretty! Lemme braid it?"
"B-Braid it?" Zelda stammered – no one had ever touched her hair except the royal hairdresser, a tradition that had felt so tired in the Princess's later years when she had learned to braid it herself. It was a hot mess now – fried beneath the heavy shawl, sweltering and frizzy by the stale heat of the barn. She eyed the chopped lock, however, matted at her temple - the same she had cut for the messenger to send to the Sheikah. It must have looked terrible, curling up like a foxtail from the rest of it. She pinched the jagged cut, "Y-You couldn't possibly fix this?"
"I can fishtail it!" Squealed the child.
"Adete fishtails everything," droned her cousins.
"Hair, sweet-grass, horsetails, whips, you name it," she said, clambering over their laps. They swatted her away, knocking over the cards that the brunette had been dealing out. A sharp glare – triggering another slew of giggles. Rolled eyes. She reshuffled the cards while the youngest squeezed herself next to Zelda, tearing the shawl for her hair, "How in Hylia-hell did you grow it this long?"
"O-Overtime?" Zelda improvised – hands accosted her hair.
"Yeah, you've got nice hair and all, but look, blondie," said the redhead, slinging an arm around Zelda's shoulders, "I've gotta be honest with you, babe. We're not usually the buddy-buddy type, but apparently, you and your mate back there are the center of today's bets, and Leekah paid me ten rupees to get more hands into the pool, and I don't know a better way to do that other than playing cards!"
Zelda tensed, turning to find the Stable Missus peeking out from behind the front desk. She gave a giddy wave, scaring Zelda, "Bets? Me? I shouldn't be - "
"We get it." Cooed Imme, stroking back a loose blonde strand, "You don't want your business publicized, as with most folks out in the wild, but hey, hey, there's a chance to get rich here!'
"Rich? Business?" Zelda huffed, "No, no, I should get back to my friend."
"C'mon, have a little fun! Looks like you need it anyway."
Zelda tensed - she couldn't deny that.
"All you need to do is sit here, look pretty, and play dumb, yeah? Know how to play Donkey's Court?"
Zelda listened as Messa explained the rules - her cousin tearing apart the knots in her hair. Donkey's Court played a lot like Hearts, and to Zelda's disbelief, she actually knew how to play. Long ago, when first meeting the Champions, she had researched common card games in the castle library. Perhaps it was the excitement of finally having an inner circle of acquaintances that made her do it, and what interested her most was a gambit called ''Shooting the Moon' – a way to win the game while doing everything wrong, collecting all the hearts and the Queen of Spades. Perhaps it resonated with the Princess of Hyrule, who thought herself a failure for her lacking powers – too much of a failure to afford herself the confidence to initiate a game. She never got to play with them.
"Understand?" Winked Messa. Zelda feigned a smile, not hearing a word. "Good! Look pretty and say nothing! Mum's the word!"
"M-Mum?"
"Yeah, like keep it hush, hush, just sit here, and we'll do the rest, 'kay?"
"Mums the word?" Zelda stammered, "I think I can do that."
"Sweet! You done with that fishtail, Addie?"
"Just about!" Beamed the little girl, showing Zelda with a pocket mirror. Her reflection startled her - tired and dirty with red bags beneath her eyes, but it was alive. Reddening cheeks, dilating pupils, and beautifully braided hair - the weave rivaled the work of the royal hairdresser in all honesty. It was neatly done and tied with a borrowed hairband – a pink and yellow knit, adding to the whimsical style of her hair. "What do you think?"
Zelda's eyes watered, taking the girl's hand, "Thank you so much - I don't know how you did it, but I look alive."
"I think we're ready then!" Messa stood, shaking the table. " Anyone want to play cards with a couple of pretty girls?"
Guests cheered, five or six of them crowding around the table for cheap entertainment as the morning squall raged outside. Thunder moaned as two men pulled up rickety seats to the booth, cheersing what looked like tea during the small talk of smooth introductions - it was deep, dark, and pungent.
"Gods. Is that coffee? Lawdon!" Imme yelled across the ruckus, "Get us a tray for your favorite customers?"
In came the stablemaster with a tray of what Imme called 'coffee.' He shot Zelda a wary look, interpreted for protectiveness while a chaotic stable frenzied all around him, but Zelda nodded him off kindly, taking a mug from his tray. Thanking him, she inspected the thick, velvet liquid – its strong scent frying her nose, "...Is this tea?"
Lawdon raised an eyebrow. Imme giggled, spilling said-tea on her poncho, "It's coffee!"
"C-Coffee." Zelda echoed, having never heard of it in her life. "Oh, of course, coffee." She sipped warily – half burning her tongue as she swallowed the splendors of the beverage. it was piping hot and bitter – but enchanting! Nutty beans dazzled her mouth – a faronian taste of rich earth and rainforests concentrated into a hot beverage. Stunned, she withdrew the cup from her mouth to have another look, sloshing it around — this velvet magic was delicious. She sniffed at the cup, "There's no alcohol in this, is there?"
"Not unless you want some!" Laughed Messa, "Think you can hook us up, Lawdon?"
"No. You girls are not drinking us dry again."
Mes turned, "We come here a lot."
Zelda grinned, clasping the coffee mug to her chest. It was pleasant to hold – hot against the callouses she had earned from sweeping. She took another sip, and then another, finding the velvet magic arousing her tired body. She sat up straighter, comfortable with the steaming cup at her side, while the brunette shuffled out the deck. Fifty-two cards were divided among ten players, with a remainder of two - hidden away for the first game. Giddy, Zelda collected her cards and grouped together the diamonds, clubs, spades, and, of course, the hearts, which she had to give to her opponents in order to win the game.
"You've got an interesting accent, girly." Noted one of the new players, watching Zelda warily. He was a large, bald man – gruff, brows furrowing in the torchlight, accentuating his angular jaw. His comrade called him Box, "Couple people say you're a Hateno."
"That ain't a Hateno accent." Commented the other – his name, Blick.
"I-It's a long story," Zelda began, immediately cut off by Messa with a glare.
Her cousin covered for her, "Could she be Faronian? We're Faronian!"
Imme started the round with a low club, "Zora?"
"Zora?" Laughed Fal.
"What? She talks like one!"
"You really think she's a Zora?"
Zelda tensed – ancient families talked alike, unifying the Lanayru Zoras with the royal Hylian line in a similar dialect.
"How would you know what a Zora talks like?" Droned the brunette, saving her — some called her Luanda. She took the hand with a high club.
"Met a Zora boy last summer."
"Liar!"
"What? Met him at that one campsite by the mouth of Lake Hylia!"
"And did you get to know his mouth?" Teased Messa – the other girls gasped. Men shifted awkwardly. Zelda dropped a card, blushing.
"Psh, I don't kiss and tell."
"Sounds like it never happened then!" Messa prodded.
"Why don't you tell us where ya'll are from?" Sweet-talked the man named Blick.
Box squinted his eyes, "How about you and that friend of yours over there, blondie?"
Zelda hesitated, averting her eyes. Messa spared her, "Oh, I was hoping you'd ask about us. We're moving out north for the Hebra Colony."
A heart was added by Blick, contaminating the pile, which Zelda had to take, having the high card. She cursed herself, having one point against her.
"Not going through the fields, are ya?"
"Nah, too dangerous, obviously," Luanda continued. She laid down a five of diamonds to Zelda's three. "We've got escorts taking us around by the Plateau while our parents meet us there at the end of summer."
"We've been bouncing around since the Faronian fires." Commented the youngest, taking the pile with a high diamond.
"Was it Yiga or bokoblin?"
"Who knows these days?" Laughed one of the cousins, "The world just likes to burn, doesn't it?"
Zelda tensed, feeling responsible. She played a heart, breaking the pile of spades. It went to Box - he glared Zelda's way before collecting the pile, sending out a low diamond, "There's relief out by Fort Hateno, ain't there?"
"If you're a big, burly man such as yourself," smirked Messa. Box was catching her eye – her sisters shook their heads, humoring Zelda and Imme. "But it's tented slums or brothels for young, pretty women such as ourselves, and we prefer being hard to get."
"Nice." Droned Luanda.
"No one will say it's a dump, but it's a dump." Commented a cousin, adding a six of hearts to a pile of high diamonds.
Zelda blundered, listening so deeply that she hadn't realized she had voluntarily taken the heart. She let her mind slip, "W-What's it like? Fort Hateno?"
"So, you're not a Hateno lady?" Scoured Box.
Messa saved her, shooing him away with her cards. "She is who she is. Do you have an opinion about it? The betting pool is at fifty rupees."
"She ain't a Hateno lady," decided the man, depositing a purple rupee behind him, "Get that to Leekah, Jo. Definitely Lanayru region. I hear there's a new settlement up there despite the lizafalo infestation."
Zelda tensed – this wasn't going well. Should she bail? She thought about quitting, but coming in fifth place at the end of the round frustrated her more. Against her better judgment, she rounded up the cards and reshuffled them for another game.
"It's a giant wall, lassy." Offered Blick, adding to her cup of coffee with his own. "No one gets in except for Hatenos."
"Slums all around it. Tents. Campfires." Luanda added,
"But tons of people to meet if you wanna have a good time." Winked Blick.
"Guards everywhere."
"Ah, I miss seeing handsome men!"
"A bunch of low-lifes, they are – "
"Like you're any better, Blick." Someone heckled.
"What?" He lunged behind him, "Treasure huntin' is a much more noble profession."
"Yeah, says who?"
"Says me – I'm not keeping half of Hyrule out in the wilds."
"But you know what?" Smirked Messa, whispering into Zelda's ear, "Get one to marry you and you're a Hateno citizen for life."
"Like that ever happens." Droned the Luanda, starting the hand with a two of club.
"I had that blondie wrapped around my finger."
"Should have shown him your roundhouse kick, Mes."
The girls laughed, humoring the group as Zelda sank into her thoughts. Conversation took them to the rain, the regions, coffee, house chores, and lewd tales of boyfriends and girlfriends (or at least, that is what they called courtship now). It seemed like casual encounters with moblins and looters seemed to be the bread and butter of the wilds – as were free meals from strangers, horse wrangling, and hand-made weapons, all of which Zelda could never know about. She listened as their lackadaisical games stretched on into the rainy afternoon, finding herself placing third, second, and then fourth and seventh. Down on her luck, she found herself buried beneath nine of the thirteen hearts in a deck – a fool's earnings.
"Just when she thought she was good at this game." Teased a bystander – some called him Jo. A small, drunken crowd festered around him, whispering when Messa started with a jack of spades. Zelda frowned, braving the attention with a caffeine-induced focus as she surrendered the dreadful Queen of Spades, taking the hand and all thirteen points. Scoffs fell over the crowd, followed by the clatter of rupees sliding between betting folk. Zelda huffed, taking it too personally, but she brushed it off with a "swig" of coffee, which her new acquaintances called a quick, sudden sip.
"Think that's gonna make you smarter, sweetheart?" Zelda heard, frowning. Fingers drummed against the cards in her point pile. Nine hearts. The Black Queen. Twenty-two points all together.
"You shootin' the moon, lass?" She heard, turning to find Lawdon leaning into her ear.
Zelda faltered, staring at her hand - she had that option, didn't she? All she needed was four more hearts, yet something about it felt ironic and frustratingly divine. Winning despite doing everything wrong. Starting a hand - a life - with terrible cards and working it out anyway, turning into a strength. She eyed the placid face of the dark queen, all bent and greasy from the buttered sourdough, and worried that there was a goddess somewhere beyond time and space trying to comfort her. She shook her head, dismissing the thought.
A half-pint of beer spilled across the table, giving her a brisk moment to steal another sip of coffee – mind racing, cells bursting. Hushed bets added to the noise, as did the clanking of forfeited rupees, tracking each player's move. A clean pile of diamonds to Messa. Another to Fallon, who had stolen another plate of sourdough bread from the kitchen. She led with a heart, which the Princess took with asserting confidence – a purposed blunder that switched the mood of the room. A hush fell over the guests.
Drunken conversations halted. Sober eyes watched as Zelda tossed out a high heart. Opponents were compelled to add theirs. She took the tenth and eleventh proudly, noting Box staring menacingly across the table. Two hearts remained - hers and his, judging by the weight of his glare, and she had the high card.
"Don't do it, blondie." Warned the brute.
Zelda frowned, feeling the weight of the irony - wishing to have won by the rules. To have had a teacher. To have summoned her powers. To have beaten the Calamity a century ago. To have given Link and the Champions lives of luxury. To play cards with them in a barn such as this. Shaking her head, she led the last round with the King of Hearts, successfully taking the hand.
"You kidding me?" She heard - Blick shouting. An uproar resounded! People squirming. Lawdon smiling, Box saluting. People rummaging through her point pile in disbelief. The clattering of forfeited rupees triggered shouts and accusations, heightening the drunken emotions inside the impoverished stable, waking a young man in the lonely corner of the stable.
"Link!" Zelda stood among the chaos, startling him. Wide-eyed, he jumped up and crumpled against his side, shirtless and seething, scaring her. She clambered over Messa, Imme, and the cousin, "Excuse me, I need to get my friend!"
"Wait! Where are you going?"
She tripped into the crowd. Pats on the back. Howls. Two hands grabbed her – a drunken gentleman, shaking her shoulders, "You just got me twenty rupees, lassy! How'd you do that?!"
"Uh - please excuse me," Zelda blushed, pushing past him to catch Link as he collapsed forward after her, "Got you. I got you, Link."
"W-What happened!?" He hounded – pain seized his side.
"I-I shot the moon?" She offered, reaching into his pack for the red tunic.
"Blondie just shot the moon!" Someone echoed, but Zelda paid them little attention, stretching the collar over his head. He pushed his broken arm through the sleeve, to his surprise.
"You can move it?" Zelda gawked. He seemed shocked too, testing it with a slow reach for the water glass on top of the end table — suddenly dropped as the crowd unleashed itself on them, buzzing, cussing, shouting. A shatter. Link jumped forward, pushing Zelda behind him as three drunken men surged Link's chest, "She's a hustler! Hear that? We know your type!"
"Don't touch him!" She cussed.
"Give us back our money, bitch!" Another lunged – perfectly caught by the neck in Link's grip and thrown to the ground in an angry whirl, Link popping up to take on the next.
"No, Link!" Zelda cried, catching him. "Your side! The glass on the floor!"
"Malanya, damn it," swung in Lawdon with a broom, swatting away the brutes with violent bats to the face, "Do you know how many potions I've used on this kid!? Touch him, and you're dead! Go back to yer cards, you drunks!"
"I've got 'em, Lawdie." Came Box. He grabbed two of them by their collars, swinging them into five others. He offered a soft salute Zelda's way before whistling for the brute on the ground to follow. The man went willingly - his tail between his legs. Only then did Link break, falling back into Zelda's hold.
"How did you do that?" She huffed, testing his arm - not noticing the blush peppering his face.
"A-Are you - ? He shouldn't have called you - "
"I'm okay, Link," she sighed, "Let's get you back to bed, okay?"
"Some stretching would do him good, lassy." Interrupted Lawdon, ditching the broom to help Link stand upright. "Ready to join the living, kid?"
Link straightened his posture, prompted with the Princess and Lawdon at his right and left — heaving in breaths, biting down the pain as he scampered for a shoulder to lean on.
"S-Sorry." He reddened.
"It's okay – lean into me if you need to."
"Shit!" They heard — Messa and the others stumbling over from the card table, "You didn't tell us he was hot!"
Link flushed, wide-eyed as Lawdon kicked the broom their way, "Can it, Mes! Don't cross that broom if you know what's good for you!"
"You're girlfriend is one hell of a card player, hotty!"
"That ain't his girlfriend!" Someone heckled.
"They're siblings, yeah?"
"Someone said they're siblings!"
"You're telling me they're not dating?"
"No way she'd date a shorty!"
"They're siblings! I've got twenty rupees on it!"
"They're lovers!" They all heard - Missus Lawdon stood from the top of the check-in desk. Zelda froze, watching her white prayer gown unfurl from the woman's hands. "I've got her wedding dress as proof right here!"
Zelda shrank, feeling the weight of Link on her shoulder evaporate – as if he had teleported away from the embarrassment.
"Damn it, Leekah!" Shouted Lawdon, dropping Link into Zelda's hold, "I told you not to snoop!"
"Hey, we got to patch up those holes in the canvas somehow, Lawdie." Laughed the woman, bundling up the dress. "Now that's gonna be all seven-hundred rupee to me, right kiddos? C'mon, don't be shy! Tell us the truth!"
"Tell us," the crowd began to chant – beer spilling, bread-throwing, drool dropping, cards flying.
"You're married?!" Squealed Messa, "And you didn't tell me?"
Zelda panicked, squeezing Link as the crowd busied. She didn't dare look him in the eyes.
"Oh, shit, they're married!" Someone yelled.
"Look at her face! – she's blushing!"
"Cough it up, blondie!"
"W-We need some air!" Zelda spluttered, frantically pushing into the crowd for the exit with Link in tow — he came compliantly, head-down, shoulders tense, burning beet red. A banjo picked up, strumming to their hasty steps out of the tent as guests laughed, pointed, and ooed – all of it falling to the background when the tent flaps unfurled behind them. Sodden storms drummed against the flooded grounds beyond them. Nowhere to run.
An awkward silence fell.
"Paddock?" Zelda blushed.
"P-Paddock."
She nodded awkwardly, helping him into the barn, where a solitary paddock sheltered them from the rain.
Author's Note: Oh no, they have to pretend to be married