Princess Zelda

Malon’s head inclined towards the noblewoman with interest as she told her… brief recollection of the past half year. She frowned at how little there was in her statement, a surge of bitterness aimed at the king that rolled in her chest. Zelda hadn’t rightfully deserved to be locked up the way she had been and the farmhand could only sniff angrily at that—not entirely trusting the volume of her voice to outright insult the King in their current company.

Her expression, however, softened as Zelda voiced her worries about Malon. A dry chuckle fell off the freckled girl’s lips, her head tipping lazily to one side as her brows lifted at the princess. “Nah, I don’t s’pose it’ll be lettin’ up either. Not to be rude, Zelda, but what do ye expect me to do?” she asked, rolling a shoulder as she spoke. “There’s nowhere else to go, is there? It’s not like I can just run away to the surface. I got a job to do here. My daddy’s here. My whole life is up here on this rock thing, ain’t it?”

"Unfortunately," she continued, "it was more of a statement than any sort of suggestion. If I knew a way to keep you from getting tangled up in the sort of nastiness this Kingdom seems to deal in, trust me, you'd have heard it a long time ago." She shook her head. "I trust your wit enough to know if anyone on these islands can take care of themselves, it's you, but worrying just appears to be a part of the Princess job description, walled off as I am." She turned to give Malon a wry smile. "You'll just have to humor me on that one, I'm afraid."

"Trouble..?" she repeated lightly, as if the idea was unheard of. "W-well… There were the mundane things: lost my necklace, got it back— It’s got a new chain see?" She tugged the gem out of her blouse by the metal links, brandishing it almost proudly before blinking at her in mild surprise. "Goddesses, ye probably haven’t seen it since we were kids. I didn’t like wearing it for a long while, remember?" The farmhand sighed a little, her shoulders sinking as she twirled the ruby between her fingertips.

"I got over that I guess. Between the two of us, I’m pretty…sure now. ‘Bout my mama, I mean. I’ll eventually work up the gall to talk to m’daddy about it but—” Malon waved suddenly, flapping her hand in the air as if to fan the topic away hastily. She turned her eyes skyward and tried to think of anything else worth mentioning.

"And…and then there was the masq," Got trampled— no, don’t tell her that.

The necklace gave her a moment's pause; Malon was right, she hadn't seen it since they were children. Given that, it was only natural that it would look familiar ... but this sort of familiarity was not the sort that came of seeing something many years ago. This sort resulted from seeing something many lifetimes ago. And, perplexingly, she was just on the edge of pinning down where.

She gave it up as a puzzle to be solved later, before she missed out on anything her friend was saying.

She nodded in response to the other girl's conclusion about her lost mother, who was as much of a stranger to Malon as Zelda's was to her, and offered a soft and reassuring smile--only for it to turn into a grimace as soon as the Masquerade was mentioned.

She allowed this for a moment, not feeling comfortable before she took the mans’ hands off of her and gently pushing them away. “I’m fine. I just feel foolish I spoke with him so freely.”

She laid back against the side of the bed, closing her eyes and pointing her head up. “I got there after the worst had happened— I didn’t see Ganondorf turn into a boar. But I knew—and some others, that he had been there to meet Gustaf. He met with me in the confessional before it—he was trying to save his assistant, Jasdae.” She took a deep breath. “I just knew it was him. My head hurt, and Victoria—that fucking bitch— she left us all to die. Slipped back when we weren’t looking and sealed the doors with ice. We were all supposed to die, I think. I assume that’s what her plan was. And Ganondorf was killing the knights—and Ives tried to ride him like a bull. Then he was rushing at me and I was just-” She cut herself off, breathing in and out. “I just yelled ‘you owe me’ over and over again. Because he did—does. He does owe me. I managed to get Gustaf to let me dismiss the drought. I sent a storm that would replenish any wells. He owed me. He understand, it knocked him back to the present a bit. Long enough to pass out, thank the Goddesses.”

More steady breathing to keep her head. “I went back after, and managed to get him to remember who he was, and he changed back to a man. We spoke, although I’m sure he was too confused to remember. Hopefully. That’s what I was talking about. I had him brought to the hospital, where he is now.”

Turning his attention back to her, he smiled wryly at the 'baggage' comment. "You needn't tell me, Miss Din," he replied, his smile softening sadly as he continued. "I am truly sorry you have to contend with this all at once. It's ... a lot, I know."

He sat patiently as she described the events, brow creasing as she went on.

"The Voice ... I'm not certain that surprises me." That smile changed by only the slightest degree, but that degree turned it into something that might easily have been confused with a sneer if one looked very, very close. That woman had a rather singular talent for seizing what she wanted by the jugular, without much concern for the mess she made in the process. The technique was as brutish and sloppy as it was effective ... most of the time, if would seem. "Well, now she has shown us her hand, as predictable as it might be. It could be we learn something from it after all-- ..."

Something seemed to catch up with him, and he trailed off, tugging his gaze away from wherever it had been staring in space to focus on the Oracle. "... You ... managed to get my father ..."

He blinked, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. It took a long moment and a deep breath before he spoke.

"Oracle ..." He paused again, then sighed  and looked at her almost pleadingly. Speaking up in front of those who held more power than he did was not something made a habit of doing, and was clearly not something he was accustomed to; the words more or less came tumbling out. "I have the utmost faith in your judgement, please, please know this, but I must ask you to place at least some of your faith in my experience. To convince the King of anything is no easy feat," he halted again, seeming to organize his words, before speaking up once more, "but if you hope to change the Kingdom by changing him, whatever the means, I ask that you keep caution very close at hand. The designs you hope to change are not his, not remotely. I have had enough dealings with monarchies, in this life and in others, to know that the power and agenda of a ruling power do not ever originate from, or hinge upon, a single man. I have seen the way these gears spin before." He shook his head, a vaguely far-off look in his red eyes, not unlike the look of someone trying to call to mind the events of a dream. "If one component starts spinning in the wrong direction, the rest of the machine will react."

His voice trailed off, and was quieter when he spoke again. "It is true that I know less than I should, but I know more than others think. Trust that I know this." The smile he seemed conditioned into wearing returned, but it was faint, meek, an apology for overstepping his bounds. It had never been his place to give any form of direction or advice, but he had so few allies ... "Just ... please be very, very careful."

With that he sat back, crossing his legs and quietly brushing his hair out of his eyes (seemingly unbothered when it simply tumbled right back), and cleared his throat.

"As to your second question ... it is not determined quite so simply. Our memories carry through the generations, as do our roles, but our personalities, our individual selves, those do not. My ancestors are no less strangers to me than other, living people I have met are." He closed his eyes. "I have many memories of him, more than I have of most of the others I remember, and there is not a fond thought among them, but right now that does not matter. What matters is who he proves himself to be in this life, and this life alone."

"It doesn’t feel right, y’know? The last time I saw ye was half a year ago and I wasn’t exactly in one piece at the time. Seems an awful way to leave things off between us." She smiled at her weakly, leaning forward to lean on the mare’s neck lazily. "So the gift’s a bit of an apology and a thanks for fixin’ my face back then.”

She had the impulse yet again to demonstrate some form of affection, to take advantage of the time she finally had alone with her old friend to reach out and hold her and kiss her cheek and make up for all of the loneliness that separation brought. And how close she came to acting on it before Malon moved again to slay herself over her horse's neck.

Zelda quickly forgot to be frustrated when the next statement came, turning the princess's cheeks a dainty shade of pink--and turning the tips of her ears a bright red. She blinked, speechless in the face of the cheeky grin and smugly raised brow, then dissolved into the most undignified laughter, the tension the last months had brought with them dissipating in seconds as relaxation and relief replaced them.

"Oh Malon," she laughed, playful exasperation lacing her voice as she reached over and guided the other girl upright in her saddle once more, "would you please hold still."

And with that she leaned over in she seat and embraced her friend in one smooth, highly overdue motion.

If it wasn’t so unsettling, she would have been happy that everything seemed to fit together and make sense, but she was afraid she’d see the boar in her nightmares at this point, with two memories to attribute to it.

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she forgot that she had been caught by the disguised Zelda, and by all means should feel incredibly awkward. It all felt so silly now— etiquette and manners. Now all that seemed to matter were the thoughts she struggled to put into words.

"I almost died the same way twice." She finally got out, despite not being entirely sure if that was the case. "I think." She tacked on just in case. She moved so he didn’t have to hold her, but instead of sitting on the bed again she sat against it on the floor, holding her head.

Now the entire days events hit her like a carriage. “He didn’t know he could do that—the transformation. He was expecting to die trying to get Jasdae back. He has no idea.” Her head jerked up and she stared at Evyr, red eyes to red eyes.

"When he was bleeding to death, he asked me if I thought I had lived before. I told him yes, of course. It’s not a secret. I told him I thought we had met before, in another life." She brought up her hands to grab at her hair.

"I’m such a fucking idiot!" She nearly shouted. The boar had triggered her remembering, why did she think it was anything positive? Why did she tell Ganondorf something like that? What if he awakened too and knew— and knew that they had face downed before?! "He said he didn’t remember, but what if he did and was lying? What if he already remembers the dams?"

His heart sunk suddenly as she described Ganondorf bleeding out. He knew the boar had been in the castle only because he had heard it, he must have felt something if Ganondorf had died if he felt his presence so strongly ... but the boar's actions and fate remained a mystery to him, save that his father was short a leg and his husband was in the infirmary with half a medical textbook full of injuries.

As Din's revelations started to meld slowly into panic, Evyr hesitated but momentarily, then reached out and placed a steadying hand on the Oracle's shoulder, trying to catch the girl's eyes.

"I know," he said quietly, "I know what has happened, what he's done. I'm afraid we all carry a bit of ... baggage." He offered a melancholy smile, then carefully reached to lift the oracle's chin, trying to get her to look at him, draw away from the memories and focus on their current task. "But, whether he remembers or not, what was done in our past lives is not important. We have enough to trouble ourselves with in this one, and only our current allegiances matter." That was what he liked to tell himself, at least, as the words of some of his predecessors rang unnervingly close to sounding like they might very well have come from his father or the Voice.

She pulled back on the reigns gently before leaning forward to urge the mare into a faster trot that soon broke into a gallop that turned up just enough soil that she was certain she’d hear the groundskeeper complaining about the next day. The echo of hooves hinted at the regal entourage that followed her dash— one that she was certain would pass her up in no time with that filly of hers— and even fainter in the distance were the sounds of the guards following in lackluster procession. All the better, Malon thought indignantly as the two dipped further into the castle grounds she had too much to say that deserved its own privacy.

The stable master slowed her mount finally, calling ahead to the princess to alert her of the recession. After a few moments she found herself at her side again, the two mares trotting steadily in sync with one another. Malon sighed with animated enthusiasm, dropped her reigns into her lap and stretched to rake her hands through her mess of copper hair, now wildly disheveled from their race. “Goddesses that felt good. H’needed that, y’know,” Malon quipped, dropping all formalities as she leaned back in her saddle languidly. She shot the princess another casual smirk, regarding her as she tipped her head. “H’don’t even know where to begin—how was yer wedding?”

She paused and then pursed her lips, squinting at the blonde playfully, “I’m right cross with ye about that, y’know. H’believe I called dibs on marrying you quite a few years back, di’n’t I?” Malon then sighed wistfully and splayed herself back against the cantle of her seat in defeat, hoping to break the tense question with her quips. As much as she wanted nothing but to merely chat idly with her friend, there were too many grave topics to discuss and she wondered how blithe she could keep the exchange as it progressed.

 After another pause her tone softened, although she remained laying back on the saddle as color rose to her cheeks, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for ye.. Some friend I am.” She scowled and clapped her cheeks admonishingly, the assault only deepening the red therein. “I was more or less barred from the castle for a while after that riot— Ah!” The redhead yelped in sudden remembrance and flung herself upright again, the sudden motion making her head swim as she tried to focus on the girl beside her again.

The smile she gave in response to the quip about the wedding was sadder than the Princess had intended it to be, but even so, the levity helped greatly. Forget the riding, the open field, the fresh air, what she had really needed was Malon. Her company, complete with that warm voice and glowing smile, after being held for so long in the castle ... it wasn't unlike a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds of a hailstorm, overdrawn as that might sound.

At the stablemaster's next statement, she couldn't protest quickly enough, her pale curls swaying slightly as she shook her head. "Nonsense, Malon. My father's interference is no fault of yours." Her voice was noticeably warmer now that there was space between them and the guards, and it almost felt strange to speak genuinely, to smile genuinely. "I could never have asked for a better friend, truly." At that she turned towards the road again, rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness in the seldom-used muscles (her training in her other form apparently did not carry over into this one). "I do apologize for not being able to invite you. My father was adamant, and I'm ... no longer in a position to push back much, I'm afraid." She pursed her lips slightly as she stared out at the hills, the expression bringing some of the sly humor back into a face that had been too often solemn for false or both in the past weeks. "Though in retrospect, I fear you'd not have enjoyed it. It was largely formalities--a great deal of talking, a great deal of posturing, and an absolute excess of looking nice for the King and Her self-important Divinity." She shrugged lightly. "That, and I still haven't the faintest idea what to think of my groom." A subtle grin had snuck onto the Princess's lips as she turned to face Malon again. "I'll have you know," she warned, "that I shall expect our wedding to be a much more fulfilling affair."

He face softened a bit, trying to get comfortable. She lit a lamp before sitting on her bed, leaning forward slightly. “I hope you’re telling the truth. All I’ve been doing lately is running around among vipers, I need to talk to an actual friend.” There was a slight pleading in her voice that marked the words as sincere.

She stared at him when he took the hood down. He was exceptionally pleasing to the eye, and she had to bring up a hand to cover her mouth. Despite this, she at least felt the need to compliment him. “Well, if I could learn to be that attractive I’d jump through hoops to meet my ancestors.” She blurted out before bringing up both her hands to cover her face. He wasn’t a random sheikah messenger, he was the princess in disguise and she was making a fool of herself.

When he said ‘did you remember the boar’ she put her hands down, looking confused. Of course she did—the attack had happened less than a day ago! She was about to open her mouth and say ‘of course’ when something stayed her tongue and a memory pushed through. It was the same feeling as before, but now it was complete, like she was dreaming.

For a moment she was elsewhere, feeling higher up as something roared on either side. It took her a few seconds to register that it was the roar of water—more water than she’d ever seen. She turned to her sisters on either side—and they were older, much older. Was she older too? It didn’t matter, all that mattered were the people around her and the monsters coming at them. Headed by that beast.

He shook his head. "Whether you believe me or not," he replied softly, "you may trust that I know the feeling."

He blinked at her response to his appearance, one sentence from the girl serving to send that blush running back. It wasn't the vacant courtly flattery he was used to, that was certain enough. He cleared his throat, hoping the tone of his skin was dark enough to hide the color in his cheeks, and replied as smoothly as he could manage, "You flatter me, Oracle."

For a moment, her only answer to his query about the boar he hadn't seen but knew had been there was a look of bafflement, and he felt the hope he'd come in with waver ... until she paused mid-word as an alarmingly far-away look crept into her fire-red eyes.

It was done in a moment, as he registered her losing her footing just in time to dart forward and catch her. Given the fact that in his other form he'd very likely have tumbled right down with her in the attempted, looking up to find he succeeded was just short of exhilarating.

She stared at the Sheikah coldly, turning over his words in her mind. It was clear he had no weapon in his hands, but he was a Sheikah. She’d grown up hearing rumors of what they could do, it didn’t seem like now was the time to doubt them.

"It’s incredibly rude to enter a young womans’ chambers unannounced." She spoke flatly, wondering who sent him and if it actually was safe to speak there. Her room was locked, Desmond was in his own small room off to the side. The only thing that had made her wonder for some time was the phone.

She glanced over at it, dismissing the fire and walking over to it. She yanked the entire thing out of the wall, frowning at the money wasted. But hadn’t it been useless? She couldn’t call out, nobody could call in. It stopped being confusing the first three days and then turned downright suspicious.

Nevertheless, she was an Oracle to one of the Golden Goddesses and not remotely someone who's legs he should be admiring. He swiftly averted his eyes and kept them upon the wall until he heard her step down from the bed.

What he saw when he met her eyes again made all the color drain from that sacrilegious blush. Something in her gaze. It was very subtle, not nearly as overt or as strong as he'd seen in the nobles that walked the palace halls, but he'd become sensitive enough to that kind of look to know it instantly and anywhere. The way she looked at him now was hardly a shade different from the way people looked at Impa whenever she was seen in the young Princess Zelda's company. His father, the knights, even the servants--human and non-human alike--he had seen gladly bare that look, openly and without apology, but ... Din? Truly? Wasn't she on the non-humans' side?

Evyr bit his tongue, silencing the impulse to remind the Oracle that her eyes were just as red as his or any Sheikah's, and moved forward with the reason he'd come. He had greater concerns than dirty looks, even if they were from highly unexpected sources.

Years of practice made dispelling the thought and relaxing his expression and voice almost startlingly easy. There would be no discernible tension left once she returned from sweeping past him to the window and hoisting her telephone out onto the concrete.

"My name is Princess Zelda," he said in a still-hushed tone (just in case), a smile touching his lips, "I do believe we've met. And you might say I was sent by a rather clever piece of inheritance."

He drew back and stood straight, and with one hand he gestured broadly to his now distinctly masculine face and body. "The things one learns from one's ancestors."

She was half dreaming about her notes when there was a thud. It took a second for Din to register that it wasn’t apart of her dream before she sat upright in panic. She’d been waiting for it, ever since she’d hit the Voice—waiting for someone to quietly murder her in her sleep. Could it be that this was it?

Although her potential murderer seemed a bit slow on the uptake, apparently on the floor. She raised a hand when the figure called her name, and ignited her power along it to light up the room. If this was the moment of her death, it seemed altogether very embarrassing.

The young man was rather pretty. With dark skin, light hair and..red eyes. Dins’ own eyes flashed and she frowned considerably. So a Sheikah had snuck into her bedroom.

"Yes, that’s right. Who are you and what are you doing in my room? I’d advise you to answer quickly, or my hand might slip." She said coldly, the fire around her hand flaring up, as if it was searching for something to cling to and burn.

Ah. So she had seen that. He'd been half hoping she hadn't.

Evyr had only a moment to try to reassemble himself and look at least somewhat dignified before Din interrupted by brandishing a flame-cloaked hand and an icy threat.

The Sheikah froze instantly, faltering in the midst of answering her questions and his hands raising open-palmed to show he held no weapon--his crossbow remained folded and slung to his back. "I-I don't mean you any harm, Oracle," he promised, his voice quiet and sincere, "I merely came to speak with you. ... Recent events rather require it."

She moved quickly, more than practiced enough to saddle and tack both mares in no time at all. Although her fingers did shake as she went, excitement and joy bubbling up inside her chest as she hurried to tighten the belts. There was so much she wanted to tell the princess—so much that she wanted to hear about—and it felt like they couldn’t mount and leave the stables fast enough.  The sooner they were out of the corral, the better.

The young Hylian mounted from the ground and immediately had to hold the mare back, the long-unridden horse's hooves stamping at the ground beneath her. The young horse (Magpie, she had been dubbed) wasn't anywhere near the most noble animal in the stables, with a black and white painted coat and rather famously unruly temperament, but she remained Zelda's favored mount for anything that didn't involve looking formal.

All efforts to get the mare to walk only resulted in a high-stepping trot, the horse clearly as anxious to be out in the open as her rider was, and it was at that pace that Zelda led the way out of the gate, Malon--and a pair of mounted palace guards--close behind.