Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hyrule, in Gan’s opinion, is very wet. And green. Very, very green.

In fact, that is all it appeared to be some days during their travels here. It most certainly isn’t like Karusa Valley, as his aunts told him before they set off on this trip, even if he sees why they’d explain it that way. It isn’t as if anything else in Gintu came close to what Hyrule is.

Slowly they climb up the long and winding path that leads to the Great Plateau. Maybe if it’s the only plateau Hyrule has such a title won’t be too off the mark, but it’s nowhere near as impressive as Gintu’s. The caravan finally turns around the corner and its riders are greeted with a view of the main field that, according to his aunt’s maps, makes up central Hyrule. Gan imagines the Castle and its town hunkering in the distance like a giant Talus, the white marble walls of his books stretching around it, towers reaching skyward. He wonders if it’s as pretty as Parapa in sunset, and decides it likely isn’t.

“It’s kind of ugly,” Akona declares, quietly nudging their horse next to him. The comment earns them a sharp look from their mother, as always going ignored.

Gan has to agree, and is grateful there’s no cause for them to go further north—unless the Regent extends the invitation, he supposes.

Gan and Akona aren’t the only ones looking around, especially as they make their way through a thick wood the likes of which Gintu has never had, and into the walled city proper, heading towards the royal home. The Temple of Time looms over the entire city like an ugly gargoyle. As they get closer, Gan nudges Diavaut into a trot to catch up with his aunt and cousin, who glances at him.

A guard in full armor greets them at the gate, offering a very clanky bow. “Queen-Regent. Welcome to Hyrule.”

“Well met,” she responds as she dismounts, always so graceful.

Gan follows her example before she can tell him, moving beside her and doing his best to stand tall and appear royal. He might not be King yet, but people still have to respect him as such.

The guard ignores him.

“The Lady Regent sends her regards, and hopes that you will forgive her for not appearing herself,” he says, bowing again. So loud. “She is quite busy planning for the ritual. She hopes that the road has treated you well though, and that there were no problems.”

Behind Gan he feels someone creep closer. “What are they saying?” Katsuo hisses in his ear, clearly disliking being left out, despite it being adults talking.

“Just saying hi,” Gan answers, rolling his eyes.

It isn’t the sort of greeting he was used to in Gintu, but it is a greeting. Hylian just doesn’t sound as nice. Granted, being only one of a small group that knows Gerudo means that he and his friends can hold more secret conversations and make fun of the adults doing their boring adult things. To plan plenty of pranks and adventures into the night… so long as their Gerudo-speaking adults aren’t around to hear them.

The guard waits until they’ve all dismounted and gathered and aunt Urbosa takes the time to talk to them. “There will be no running off,” she addresses each child with a glance, her tone as stern as she can be, hands on her hips. “I want you to stay together and with an adult at all times when possible. Do not leave my side, or Lady Kibja’s, until we reach our rooms. This is a foreign country and we don’t want you to get lost, understand?”

“Yes auntie,” Gan answers. Akona, Katsuo, and Nabs chorusing after him.

For the moment, at least, Gan knows he’s telling the truth. Still, it’s quite hard to resist the urge to explore, especially with his thoughts being distracted by little flickers of memories not his own, promising all sorts of secrets and interesting sights if he only sought them out. He’s still too young for Demise’s memories in full, but he hopes when it does happen they’re not half as distracting as now.

The royal house, though Gan thinks it is far too large to actually qualify—it is even bigger than Katsuo’s house!—pales in comparison to the Temple of Time next to it. The graceful arches of its walls and hallways are at odds with his only other experience with a temple, but it has the proper feel of it—like the Spirit Temple, a sad-wrongness he can’t describe.

Someone clears their throat and Gan does his best not to jump, giving a sour look to the servant waiting for his horse. He leans against her, brushing her soft coat. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs in her ear, “I’ll come visit.” 

He hopes he remembers. Diavaut certainly will.

The mare nudges his shoulder with her head gently and doesn’t protest when he hands the reins to the servant, and waves as they disappear into the stables. She deserves to have a nice brushing and food; the journey wasn’t arduous, but it was pretty long. She must be as tired as he feels.

The guard guides them through the shadow of the Temple that crosses the courtyard and explains that this is where the ritual will be held in a few days. Akona clutches at his fingers tightly, clearly wanting to keep close, though with their mother fretting over all of them like a cucco, Gan doubts they’re going to get lost.

While the courtyard has the sort of noise one expects from such a busy place, once they’re through the main doors it’s near silent. Broken only by the guard’s next words. “The Lady Regent hopes that you and your nephew will join her and the other nobles for dinner this evening. If you are not overtired from your trip.”

“Tell her we are grateful for the invitation and accept.” There’s an amused note to his aunt’s expression as the guard bows and leaves them at a door.

“Does this mean we can finally have a real bath?” Katsuo asks as they enter through the door to find their quarters.

Despite Gan’s huff, he knows his friend isn’t wrong. A real bath would be wonderful about now. At the very least it would mean he’d look far more presentable, which he’s sure his aunt wouldn’t be opposed to. He himself is certainly interested in meeting the princess who invited them despite having never met.

His aunt turns to look at them, a smile tugging at her lips despite the exhaustion on her face. She sinks into one of the chairs, thankfully all Gerudo-sized. “Yes, Katsuo, you can have a bath,” she answers. “In fact, all of us should take one.” She looks them all over carefully. “Gan, dear, come to me when you’re bathed and dressed.”

“Yes, auntie.” He knows when he’s being summoned, even if he doesn’t want to be. She’ll probably want to lecture him about this visit, after all, and he’s never been a fan of those. Well, he can put it off for at least a little while.

Taking Akona and Katsuo’s hands in each of his own, he tugs them to a door. “Come on, let’s find the bathroom.” All the furniture is Gerudo sized, but will the tub?

The largest tub they find is in his aunt’s rooms, and even then, it can only fit two of them. So they make due as best they can.

Regardless of the tub’s size, Gan still emerges clean, hair braided and freshly oiled. His clothes are the nicest ones they’d brought, carefully packed away to stay clean of sand and dirt. He feels more like himself now, though the trip had been a wonderful sort of adventure all its own.

In the main area there are trays of food set out, everyone but his aunt partaking. “Come, children,” Lady Kibja says, gesturing them over.

Nabs goes immediately, but Akona and Katsuo linger for a moment. “Go,” Gan tells them.

“Tell us everything,” Katsuo demands as he presses a kiss to Gan’s cheek.

“Don’t get in trouble,” Akona advises. “We still have adventures to have.” They’re right, getting in trouble now will only make things harder for them. He still doesn’t like it. They press a kiss to his other cheek, then join their mother, who promptly begins to fuss over them.

Gan sighs and goes over to join his aunt, following her into an empty bedroom, sitting while she closes the door. His fingers twitch, the edge of his braid at the perfect spot for fidgeting with. Instead he curls his fingers around the arms of the chair, for a King should always appear calm and composed. Something he tries his best to do, even if he isn't a king just yet.

“Yes, auntie?”

Urbosa sits next to him, her hand resting on his shoulder as she looks at him fondly. “Don’t worry, my love, I’m not going to scold you.” She bends and presses a kiss to his hair as if to prove this. “But you must listen to me, Ganondorf. This is not a safe place for us. Hyrule will always be dangerous, and the woman we’re going to meet tonight is the reason that’s true. So please don’t leave my side unless you absolutely have to, understand?”

Gan feels like that is, in fact, a scolding, but her expression is serious enough that he keeps that thought to himself. Instead he just nods. “I’ll stay close to you during dinner, auntie, don’t worry.” If she’s being this serious she really means it. He needs to do his best to take it just as seriously, even if he doesn’t understand it all yet. She loves him, after all, and wants only the best for him. “Will Katsuo, ‘Kona, and Nabs be coming too?” He thinks he already knows the answer, but he also doesn’t want to go without his friends.

“I’m afraid it will be just you and I tonight,” she answers, confirming his suspicions. “But if all goes well tonight you can introduce the princess to all your friends tomorrow. I’m sure she’d like that.” A strange expression crosses over his aunt’s face, but he doesn't know what it means.

He nods, certain those meetings will happen later tonight, not tomorrow, but auntie doesn't need to know that. Hopefully he likes the princess, she certainly has to be headstrong, to know what she wants to be as young as she is. If he's lucky, she will be interesting and up for adventures.

“Can I say goodbye to everyone before we go?”

Urbosa nods and he slips away from her back to the main room. Everyone’s still eating, but Nabs and the others have slipped away to a window, peering out over the small town as it prepared for the evening.

“I’ll talk to the princess soon, and if she’s interesting enough I’ll let her know about our adventure plan tonight,” he says, quiet enough that nobody else will hear them. If the Mothers were kind she wouldn’t snitch on them.

Nabs wrinkles their nose, but Katsuo hums, bumping their shoulders. “Sounds like a good plan. If the princess isn’t a sourpuss like Nabs, she’ll definitely be up for it.”

It earns him a sharp jab to the ribs from Nabs. “I’m not a sourpuss,” they complain, crossing their arms and glowering at them. “Unlike you, I just happen to have common sense.”

“Common sense just means you’re boring and don’t want to have fun,” Gan replies. His friends snigger.

“Have fun dying alone in the desert then,” Nabs huffs. “I certainly won’t be there to bail you out because I knew better.” Their glower would mean more if they meant it.

He opens his mouth to answer, but Urbosa clears her throat before he can, and so all Gan can do is sigh and kiss them all before going to her. Despite knowing he clothes are fine he tugs on his kurta to make sure it’s not wrinkled, then on his ear to make sure his earrings are there.

Auntie’s hand settles on his shoulder, though a more childish part of him wishes she’d hold his hand instead. On the other side of the door is another guard, if one less armored than the last. He bows and leads them away. Auntie’s hand feels stiff against Gan, and he glances up at her; she’s hiding it well, but she’s worried. If he could hug, her he would.

The royal dining hall is all the way on the other side of the house, with large windows that look out over the wall to the forest in the distance, the sky making it look darker and more foreboding. Gan looks around - he thought there would be others, but there’s only an older woman reading at the table, with a young girl seated next to her.

The woman closes her book and rises to greet them. As if startled, the girl ducks behind the table. Gan would wrinkle his nose if there weren’t adults around.

He still follows his aunt in bowing to the lady in white, deep enough to convey respect but not deference. “Greetings, Regent Laurea,” his aunt says, an easy smile on her face. “Thank you for your invitation, and I hope this day has found you well so far.”

So it is going to be a whole lot of pretty words that are really boring underneath. He wishes he wasn't used to it.

Gan would go around the table to be with the princess if he wasn’t required to be here. Or at least he couldn’t without being very rude, because grown ups are particular about that. So instead he observes Lady Regent Laurea. She’s a very beautiful woman, tall and stately, though there is an icy feel about her that unsettles him in a way he’s not used to.

“Please,” lady Laurea inclines her head. “The honor is mine. It has been far too long since our kingdoms spoke face to face, and it gladdens me to see you here.” Her eyes flick to the table and for a moment he thinks she’s going to sigh. “Zelda, why don’t you come and say hi to our guests?” There’s a thread there that adds to Gan’s unsettled feeling.

There’s a shuffle of feet, but the princess does approach them, shyly peeking from behind the Regent’s skirts. She’s dressed in white like the Regent, which can’t be easy to keep clean, her hair tucked under a veil. Her purple eyes stare at him for a moment, which stretches on and on. Gan feeling like something’s happening he doesn’t understand.

It vanishes the moment Zelda hides behind the Regent. Lady Laurea gives them an apologetic look, then shifts down to talk to her, too quiet for him to hear. Her hand pats the veil on her head when she stands once more.

Gan smiles, doing his best to appear friendly and welcoming, as if the princess and the Regent were the guests. “It’s nice to meet you, Lady Regent, Princess.” See, he can say the pretty-boring words too. The bow he gives to Zelda is deeper than the one he gave the Regent; he and the princess are equals, after all.

She bows back, so deeply she almost falls forward. “Welcome to Hyrule, Your Majesty, Prince,” she says, chirping the words like a bird would, and he finds himself a little entranced.

The Regent gives her an approving glance, then smiles at them. “Shall we sit? Dinner will be served shortly, but there is time to begin the conversation. Apologies about there being no one else, I thought better after my invitation.”

Wanting to be polite, Gan goes up to Zelda and offers her his arm. It’s only a few steps to the table, but this is what people were supposed to do in Hyrule. At least that’s what his teachers told him during their very hurried lessons after his aunt’s announcement last month.

“May I?”

Zelda hides behind her mother’s skirts, eyes downcast. Considering she already thought herself a girl, he’s surprised she’s so shy. Nabs would likely tell him he shouldn’t give Gerudo thoughts to non-Gerudo. Her little hands grip the fabric, turning white, and he hopes she’s not actually going to cry like her face suggests. He doesn’t want to see her cry.

The Regent’s hand rests on the princess’ shoulder. “Apologies again, young prince.” He’s not young . “My Zelda isn’t the most comfortable with people she doesn’t know.”

His aunt speaks up before he can, which is probably for the best. “There is no offense taken, Regent Laurea. Perhaps we should let the children become acquainted on their own while we speak? Ganondorf has been excited to meet the princess ever since we received your letter.”

Gan wants to make a face, because his aunt shouldn’t just say that, even if it is the truth. But making a face would mean his smile will go away, which will make him more scary, and that will only make the princess more upset. Is he scary now ? He doesn’t think so. Still, he wants to agree with her— who wants boring adults hovering over them all the time? He has the feeling the Regent wouldn’t like that, even though he is an adult himself, if not one fully grown.

Lady Laurea’s expression shifts, but she looks down at Zelda and gently smooths her veil once more. “Now, dearest flower,” her tone has that sort of patience to it that always grates on him. “We have to be good hosts to our guests, remember? Like we practiced.” Zelda nods, which seems to ease some of the Regent’s tension. “Why don’t you show the prince to the window for a little conversation?”

The princess nods softly, the way Akona does to their mother when they are in trouble, and then bows to him, though she makes sure to keep her mother between them. Is he that scary? “May I show you the way, Your Highness?” This time she sounds like a mouse.

“You may, Your Highness,” he answers. An expression he can’t recognize flits across her face, but she turns around before he can properly parse it.

As he moves to catch up with her, Gan wonders if there’s a cause for her behavior, or if this was how she always is. Hopefully he can figure it out and do his best to make her feel more comfortable. He wants her to like him, after all.

“Can I call you Zelda?” he asks quietly as he falls in step with her. Certainly if the Regent hears the question she’d disapprove, but people who like each other call each other by name.

Zelda shifts from him, just a little, and they come to a stop in front of a large glass window; a lovely view of the garden. They stand side by side, but she’s so small. “If it pleases His Highness,” she murmurs, her eyes firmly fixed on the stones and wood of the sill. “It’s not appropriate, but if no one notices, Mother won’t be cross.” 

Gan smiles, because that’s better than making a face. “Then you can call me Gan,” he returns. It’s only fair, and perhaps will help her feel more comfortable. “Do you live here?” he asks as he looks out the window— maybe she doesn’t like eye contact? (He wants to keep looking at her.) “Or do you live in the castle?”

That’s where princesses live in the stories, after all. It is known.

“In the castle,” she answers after a long moment of silence. “It’s my first time here too. It’s really pretty, isn’t it?” There’s a note in her voice that echoes what he feels, and he hopes that’s a good sign. At least she’s talking to him, even if it feels awkward.

“Pretty,” he agrees, because she asked. “But sad.” Maybe if he pokes and prods at the pile of memories that is Demise, Gan would know the reason, hazy as it might be. Yet the thought of doing so is not a good one. At his age, he knows he can do a lot more things that people think he can, but taking on the memories of a God feels like too much even for him.

“Do you like adventures?” he asks, hoping to change the subject.

For a second he glances at Zelda and thinks she might be excited, but it vanishes quickly. “Adventures are just things in fairytales,” she says, shaking her head.

She might not like eye contact, but Gan can’t help but stare at her, a little baffled. “Sneaking out of bed is always an adventure, definitely not something from a fairytale.” She can’t be the only child in the castle, right? Even if Katsuo and Akona are his best friends, there is a small horde of children in the Palace he can always play with when they’re busy. It doesn’t make sense.

She looks away quickly, a bit of pink on her cheeks. “Mother would be upset if I left my room after curfew,” she says, very prim and proper, and shakes her head.

“That’s part of what makes it an adventure,” he argues. “You can look at me. Or not. I don’t mind.” He’s never struggled to make someone feel comfortable before, which is more strange since he’s not the host, but Zelda feels like a stray kitten, and he wants to win her trust. “Why do you wear a veil? The sun can’t be that bad here.” Certainly he hasn’t had to wear one since they crossed the Steps into Hyrule.

“Because a young lady should cover her hair,” she replies, trained and quick, and it catches him off guard. Her hands fold in front of her, her gaze back on the whorls in the wood. He sighs.

“Oh, I’ve never met a young lady then, I suppose.” Young Ladies must be something in Hyrule. “People only cover their hair in Gintu when we’re traveling. Helps keep the sun from hurting us too much. Which room here is yours?” It might be too much of a conversation jump, but he also wants to know so he and his friends don’t spend half the night wandering around looking for her.

Zelda lifts her head and stares at him openly, blinking slowly. Almost like she’s some scared wild animal. She swallows. “Do you want to hurt me?” Her voice is barely a whisper and he can see her hands shaking for the first time. She’s actually afraid of him.

Gan doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he only blinks back, baffled. “Why would I want to hurt you? We’ve only just met, and you seem really nice.” If strange. He supposes she could be pretending, but what would be the point? “Anyways, even if your mother’s the one hosting, you invited me, so I have to respect hospitality.” Those are old rules, after all, and bad things happen to people who break them. Even to princes and princesses.

She smiles for the first time, her cheeks turning pink again. He finds himself unable to look away, even when she ducks her head in a turtle-like fashion. It’s sweet. “I don’t know if Mother would allow it,” she finally says, rubbing her arms together. “But my room is in the royal wing, on the eastern half of the house.” She glances shyly at him. “If Mother says yes, maybe I could show you my books tomorrow morning?”

“I’d like to see them,” Gan tells her with a smile. “I hope you don’t sleep too deeply.” It would be nice to know which room exactly, but he doesn’t want to make the adults suspicious, even if they can’t hear them from here. “We can do a book trade.” He brought a few books of his own, after all, and a Hyrule book has to be at least a little interesting.

Before Zelda can answer, the Regent calls out to them. “Zelda, Your Highness,” she says, as crisp and proper as a folded napkin. “It’s dinner time.”

Gan holds back his sigh, but offers the princess his arm again, feeling more hopeful this time. “Can I escort you to your chair?”

She looks at him, clearly unsure all over again. Her eyes drift to where the Regent is, then dart back to him, and she nods. Once more, it makes her look like a cute turtle. Her gloved hand— he didn’t realize she wore gloves—settles against his elbow and he feels more proud of that than anything else he’s ever done.

Mindful of her stride, he leads her to the table, grinning back when his aunt smiles in encouragement as he leads her to her chair and helps her into it. The Regent levels them both with an unreadable gaze that radiates disappointment and Gan would frown if there weren’t adults around. Instead, he merely climbs into his own seat.

Dinner is a bland and boring affair, with the food claiming the ‘bland,’ and the conversation the ‘boring.’ What makes it all the worse is that the Lady Regent barely addresses him or Zelda through the entire evening, only glancing at them so often with her cool eyes, and his aunt is politely stopped every time she tries to bring them into what little conversation there is. Gan hopes that not all of Zelda’s meals are like this— even he’d feel mighty lonely if he were in her shoes. Perhaps this is why she’s a little strange.

At the end of the worst meal he’s ever had—including the time he and Katsuo tried to cook after watching the kitchen staff for ten minutes—they exchange some more pretty words that say nothing important, and he has to bow and bid the princess goodnight. On the inside however, he promises that he’ll see her just later tonight, if everything works just right.

Mind whirling, Gan follows his aunt back to their rooms.

Hopefully, Zelda doesn’t sleep like a rock.

Zelda does not sleep like a rock.

In fact, she's sitting awake in her bed, staring at the stars on one of her maps to lure herself to sleep, when she hears the sound of rocks hitting the window that faces the garden, making her jump in her bed and look up.

Who might it be? The little princess glances at the window’s direction, confused. This entire trip has been so much to her, and she almost regrets it. Mother was right—princesses aren’t supposed to leave their nest. She feels small and scared every time she moves past these unknown corridors, every time she runs into someone she doesn’t know. She misses the castle, where everything felt safe. She misses her room. She’s just a stupid little girl, what does she know? The world is big and scary and Zelda doesn’t know anything , anything at all.

Another rock startles her, and she winces, biting her lip. Something seems to be calling her. She knows she's not allowed out of bed after Mother's tucked her in, but she's curious. So she tucks her blanket around herself and puts the star map away, then tip-toes to the window, shyly peering out.

What she sees outside surprises and confuses her, for instead of the ghosts and goblins she’s imagined, there’s a handful of people. Not just people—children. Head in front of them stands the Gerudo prince, a rock in one of his hands and a tiny light in the other, and behind him the other children she remembers seeing him with when his caravan arrived. The prince grins when they eyes meet and drops his rock so he can wave at her. Stupidly, Zelda waves back.

One of his friends, the one with the same colored hair as his, murmurs something, and the prince elbows them before turning up to her window again.

"Don't listen to them," he says, voice muffled by the glass but just as sweet as it was before. "Come on! We’re gonna go exploring!"

Zelda gives them a look that's equal parts confused and curious. So many people! In fact, she's definitely frightened, but they are all children. And the prince said he won't hurt her.

She shouldn't be afraid.

So, she opens the window. Just so. "I can't come out," she says, shaking her head. "The guards will see me."

"What guards?" the prince asks. "We saw two on our way here, but they were asleep."

That… isn’t any good. Mother would definitely be upset when she hears about it — she hopes, for the guards’ sake, that she doesn’t. They shouldn’t be sleeping on the job, but they don’t deserve to have her be cross with them. Maybe she can go out and wake them up? But no. That will get Mother upset with all of them, her included. And Zelda hates making Mother upset.

“These are my friends Akona and Katsuo, and my cousin Nabs," the prince continues, obvious to her butterfly-thoughts as he does his introductions. "Come on, it'll  be fun, I promise."

She looks at him once more. He has to be mad. Mother would never forgive her for this.

But… she wants to. She hasn't had the chance to see the garden yet, and she's never been on an adventure. Mother will punish her, but… surely…

Surely, it's worth it. For once in a lifetime, she can do it.

"I can find you at the gate," Zelda finally says, glancing at the door and then back at them. She can do this, right?

The prince’s friends say something in the Gerudo tongue, gesturing around them, and once again she finds herself wishing Mother would’ve allowed her to learn it when she asked about it. Fortunately, the prince and his cousin seem to know Hylian pretty well.

"Jump," he translates for them, waving his hand. "We'll catch you."

Oh, he must truly be mad.

"I can't!” Zelda whisper-cries, shaking her head. “It's too dangerous! Mother will be upset!”

The prince’s cousin snorts through their nose. "You're going to be fine. Just jump! She won't stay mad forever."

Still hesitant, Zelda looks between the door and the window. She knows they are right, but…

"Okay, okay," she says, her expression growing determined. "Just give me a minute."

She runs back to the bed and drops the blanket, then fishes for her slippers. She can't believe she's doing this.

There’s rustling outside as they arrange themselves, murmuring and more shoving. She does her best to ignore them, focused on her task, tying the ties around her ankles and smoothing her nightgown down her calves. Anxiety bubbles in her belly, making her nearly ill with worry. She hopes Mother will forgive her.

"Hurry up," Nabs hisses, tapping on the glass once more. "We haven't got all night!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Holy Mothers. Her slippers on her little feet, Zelda puts her chair next to the window and uses it to climb on the sill, then peers outside. It's not far—it's ten or so feet, maybe even less. Taking a deep breath, she leans in and jumps, her nightgown fluttering around her legs. For the briefest of moments, she feels like she’s flying.

Then she falls, right on top of the prince.

"Oof," he says as he stumbles, one arm wrapping around her middle; his friends manage to support them and keep them from hitting the ground. Zelda’s face burns scarlet and she doesn’t make a peep as they straighten up, embarrassed. The prince grins at her and it only makes her more embarrassed. "You said you'd never been here before, but you must know some things about it. Where should we go?"

She blinks up at him, her eyes wide and filled with starlight. He isn’t upset she fell on him? Her hair tumbles in loose amber curls around her flushed little face, and she looks between the other children with some worry, inching closer to the prince as if he can protect her.

Nabs, the prince’s cousin, huffs. "There's nothing scary. See? I told you. You're fine."

The dark-haired Sheikah boy approaches and takes her hand, shaking it like she’s seen adults shake hands. She thinks his name must be Katsuo. "Nice to meet you," he says in Hylian slowly, as if he doesn’t know it very well, and offers her a smile.

Hesitant, she steps away, hiding.

"Don't worry," the prince says, offering her one of his hands to hold. "We'll keep each other safe, yeah?"

Zelda glances at him from beneath her lashes, ignoring the way his cousin and his pink-haired friend lean to whisper to one another beside them. Still the anxiety bubbles like a pit in her belly, dark and scary, but she finds his smile reassuring, comforting. Shyly, she reaches out and gently places her hand into his palm, clasping his fingers. A zip of electricity goes through her when her bare skin touches her own and she jumps, then shakes her head. She can do this.

"I… I know where the garden is. And the kitchen. I think. I can take you there, if you’d like."

Akona pokes at the prince, asking something in Gerudo. He ignores them and waves them away, then yelps when he gets another poke, and begrudgingly translates.

"Garden," Nabs says, snapping Zelda before she can question the odd dynamic. "The kitchen will have people in it making bread for the morning."

Zelda glances at her feet, somewhat flustered to be put on the spot like this. Almost by instinct, she cuddles up into the prince's side, something all other children notice but evidently decide to not question. Tightly gripping his hand, she begins to lead their tiny group down one of the pathways to the garden.

"Can we call you Zelda?" Nabs asks, striding up beside the little princess. "Your title is kind of a mouthful."

"Um." Zelda doesn't know what to say. "I don't mind."

"We're all friends," the prince agrees. "Friends can use each other's names." He repeats it again in Gerudo for Akona and Katsuo's sakes, which only earns him a giggle from latter and a grinning jab from former.

Gerudo are so strange.

Nabs rolls their eyes. "Ignore them," they advise, patting the hand not clutching their cousin’s. "They're being ridiculous."

"I'm afraid I don't speak your language, so I don’t understand," Zelda says, gently shaking her head. Her eyes flit over to Katsuo, her expression tentative. "I do speak Sheikah. A little bit," she adds, changing her tongue as she does.

Katsuo beams. "I think you speak very fine! Zelda. Very pretty name."

She flushes to her ears and ducks, earning laughter from them all.

They skitter their way into the garden, stopping every once in a while to make sure there are no unexpected sounds, but encounter no one. She would’ve thought there were more guards, but maybe the gardens don’t need guarding. Then again, Zelda doesn’t know about those things. She is too young to be allowed into adult meetings and too dull to understand them.

They make sure to stick together and keep away from any adult who might see them—turns out, it's not so difficult to do so, even if you're just a handful of children running around past your bedtime. She refuses to drop the prince's hand, clinging to him like her life depends on it, but allows his companions to pull her into conversation and tease her.

Is this what having friends is like? She's never had friends. They all seem nice. Katsuo stays by her other side, telling her about this and that thing, quick and charming. Behind them, she hears Nabooru and Akona rustling as they collect various flowers and leaves and rocks, clearly determined to take proof of their adventure.

"Is the castle cool?" Katsuo asks her, as they enter a hedge maze together, quickly disappearing within it.

"It's very pretty," Zelda replies. "I live in the tower and I can see the entire world from my window. I wish you would come and see it."

"Maybe we can," Gan answers. "Though I don't think your Mother would let it happen this time." 

No. She likely won’t. But she will still ask, the little princess promises herself. Maybe Mother will see how happy she is to have friends and let them come?

She looks around, noticing it’s only the three of them— have they separated? Nabs and Akona don’t seem to be around. She can still hear their voice, somewhere far away, but is too small to jump over the hedges and see. Her new friends don’t seem concerned, so she tries not to be, and merely follows, slinking past the prince as he confidently leads their three-person team. After many more twists and turns they finally emerge from one of the many openings, nearly running into each other, and gawk at the tall wall of the Temple of Time that stands above them, lights flickering in its twin towers.

"Woah," Katsuo says, mouth open in surprise.

She can only agree.

Tall marble columns loom above them. The windows of the Temple are not simple glass, Zelda remembers, but colorful instead, and the warmth that leaks through them in the night carries those same colors. It's really pretty, and like a curious little animal she shuffles between the two boys so she can have a better look.

Somewhere a door opens, and a woman with yellow hair steps out of the Temple, a song on her lips. Zelda only has a moment to blink before her new friends pull her back and the three of them huddle behind one of the hedges, watching the woman—a priestess—go about her business.

The song the woman sounds vaguely familiar, though she doesn’t remember where she knows it from. It fills the night, calm and comforting, and softly fades away as she disappears behind the corner and to the other side of the building. The door she came out of through leaks light, a warm yellow strip in the otherwise dark walls of the temple.

"Do we want to go in?" the Prince asks, leaning against the hedge.

Katsuo scrunches his face up. "I don't know."

"What are you planning to do now?" comes a voice behind them.

Zelda eeps silently, jumping, and collides with a warm body. Nabs walks up from around the corner, expression annoyed, with a quietly giggling Akona beside them. It's difficult to say when the prince ended up hugging her, and perhaps later, both of them will be embarrassed about it. Now, all Zelda feels is that momentarily panic washing away from her at the sensation of his touch, happy and content where she is. Like it's the place she was always meant to find.

"Don't come behind us like that, idiot!" Katsuo hisses, glaring at his friend. "Gan wants to go in."

Nabs turns their eyes to their cousin, then looks at the temple. To the small princess, it’s clear they share the sentiment, but are unwilling to get their butt dragged into more trouble. She silently agrees to their judgment.

Akona rolls their eyes. "Come on, you butts, the temple won’t bite you," they say, and Zelda is far too busy being scandalized at the bad word to realize she understands what they are saying. Mother will wash her ears with soap. And her mouth. Princesses aren’t supposed to hear bad words!

Her new friend is completely innocent to her shock, merely looping their arm through the Prince and beginning to drag him—and thus her—along towards the cracked door, a bounce in their step. Disgruntled, Nabs and Katsuo follow, and together the five children sneakily make their way inside the holiest site in all of the world, fortunately finding themselves in what seems to be a side hallway. It is empty.

"Which way now?" Katsuo hisses, pointing one finger at Akona.

“We figure it out, dummy,” they reply, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, and begin marching down the hallway.

“Mothers and Heroines,” Nabs murmurs, and chases along.

As beautiful as the temple was on the outside, with its colored glass and bright lights, it's even more beautiful on the inside. Frescoes cover the marble walls, from ceiling to floor, coloring each bit of stone with paintings of myths and legends that look like they can step from the wall any minute and join them. The five companions wander around with wide eyes, pointing at the bits that look familiar, but stick together even so. Reckless they might be, but not enough to separate in a place they’ve never been to.

Zelda doesn't know, but something about the temple makes her feel strange. Like she’s been here before. Like it hurts her to be here. She sniffs softly and then stops when she finds tears running down her cheeks, slowly trickling past her chin like raindrops. She tries to wipe them away before the Gerudo children notice, but it doesn't seem to work. She isn’t good at pretending.

"What's wrong?" the Prince asks, gently taking her hand into his.

"Hey, guys!” Akona calls from behind the altar. “I think I found something!"

Zelda sniffs again, rubbing at her eyes.

"N-no, nothing… nothing is wrong." Why is she crying? There's no reason to cry. There’s nothing wrong. 

What there is is a strange and overwhelming sadness, as if the sky has opened and begun to pour into her mind. She doesn’t understand, but neither can she help it, scrunching her shoulders and crying as quietly as she can so she doesn’t get them in any trouble. The entire sanctum seems to crush her, push her down and down and down.

"Let's see what Akona found," she says, struggling to keep going despite the tears, and tugs on the Prince’s warm hand.

He helps her wipe away the tears, so gentle it only makes her cry more. They don’t stop, no matter how hard the two of them try. Hand in hand, the two of them join their friends behind the too-tall altar, finding the three of them crowded around a piece of the stone floor that looks to be stained a dark, brown-red color. 

“What do you think it is?” Akona asks, crouching down to poke the stone.

"Maybe it's just some discolored rock," the Prince suggests, Zelda’s discomfort echoed in his voice.

Nabs wrinkles their nose. "Considering how all the other rocks are exactly the same color, I'd think they wouldn't let this one have a different bit of color."

"Yeah," Katsuo agrees. He pokes at the spot with the tip of his toe. “It looks like blood.”

Blood. Oh, Mothers and all good spirits. Zelda gives a tiny whimper, digging her fingers into the Prince’s arm, and tries to step away from the stain, swaying. No longer does she feel warm, no longer does she feel surrounded by her new friends. She can’t breathe, as if someone is choking her, squeezing the air from her.

"I don't like it here,” she murmurs, shaking her head rapidly. “Can we— can we please go? Please?"

“It’s just some rock,” Nabs says calmly. “Even if dummy Katsuo is right and it’s blood, it’s probably as old as sand.”

“I’m not a dummy, you are a dummy, you— ” Katsuo stops, lowering his finger, and looks over. “Zelda, are you okay?”

“I’m,” she hiccups softly, “I’m—”

Why do her insides feel like they are being torn apart? Why can't she breathe? Black spots dance in her eyes, her legs swaying once more. Frightened, Zelda tears away from her prince's hold and races into the first hallway she sees, her quiet sobs echoing in the vast temple.

"Zelda!" she hears her friends cry behind her, but it doesn't matter. She needs to get away from that place. She needs—

Mother . She wants her mother. She needs someone to hold her. She's so scared.

Her running leads her to another empty corridor, surrounded by paintings of heroes and stories she doesn’t recognize. Zelda falls on her knees, small and shaking, and buries her face into her hands, weeping away all her fear and confusion. She doesn’t want to be alone, but what choice does she have? She doesn’t want them to see her like this.

Someone catches up to her, tugs her into a hug and hauls her up from the ground. "Hey, hey," Akona says, their calm voice washing over her. "It's okay, it’s okay…"

Zelda shivers, rocking against the warmth of the person who holds her so gently. She's scared. But at least there is someone…

As the rest of their friends catch up, it becomes evident that at least someone has heard them, for it is just then that a tall and beautiful Sheikah woman in black turns around the corner and looks at them, a gentle look in her pale eyes. Akona bares their teeth at the stranger, squeezing the little crying girl even tighter, but the Sheikah woman merely kneels beside them and pulls them both into her arms, humming a quiet song.

There are steps, movement. Zelda doesn’t see him, her tear-filled eyes focused on the strange woman, but she feels the prince when he approaches and is welcomed into the odd embrace, feels his fingers on her clothes and in her hair when he attempts to hug her and Akona and protect them. It feels very nice.

"Shhh," the strange woman whispers, holding them so gently. "There is nothing to fear, dear heart. All is well."

Little by little, Zelda's sniffs calm. Enough that she can finally breathe, at least. Akona retains their protective hold over her, squeezing tightly, but doesn’t attempt to pull away when the stranger runs her long gentle fingers through their hair, humming still. It sounds like the soft patter of raindrops on a window.

"What fine friends you have, little princess," the woman says, her voice gentle and soothing. She smiles at the prince. "And how good they are, to run after you so fast. Pray tell me, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"Having an adventure," he replies, standing up straighter, curling his fingers into Zelda’s wrinkled nightgown. "She's never had one, and we wanted to explore."

The white-haired woman pulls back, examining them with her kind eyes and gentle expression. Zelda doesn't want her to go, turning her big, tear-filled gaze up at her. The stranger smiles and reaches to gently wipe her cheek.

"An adventure is always an open door," she says, her eyes crinkling prettily. "Well, mighty adventurers. Would you like some rest before you continue on your journey?"

Katsuo crosses his arms. "How do we trust that you aren't going to steal us away?"

"That's a good question." She turns to the Gerudo prince. "What do you say, King of the West? Will I steal you away?"

He wrinkles his nose. "Why do I have to answer that?"

"You took responsibility," his cousin reminds him.

The prince glares at them, rubbing his ribs where they elbowed him, then turns back to the stranger. "A snack would be nice," he declares, sounding very official. "But afterwards we should probably head back. We don’t want to get caught."

"A wise decision, King of the West," she agrees, smiling, and stand up, gently picking Zelda along. With her free hand she holds the prince’s, like Zelda’s mother used to do when she was littler, and he doesn’t seem to mind. Their friends trot along. "I bet the kitchen has some nice fresh bread and honey for you all."

Her suggestion causes all members of the adventurous company to perk up and look at her, four sets of puppy eyes begging for snacks; even Zelda, who is still rubbing her eyes, blinks up, her belly giving a rumble. Laughing softly, the strange woman begins to lead them away.

They leave the temple without returning to the sanctum and head out back into the night, swiftly cutting through the garden. The woman asks them one thing or two, seemingly more than happy to entertain them and answering every question they have with surprisingly interesting answers. Before long, they reach the kitchens.

"What are you doing here?" one of the maids on shift asks, gawking at their small adventuring party.

"I think they are hungry," their helpful stranger says. "That won't be a problem, no?"

The maid glances back, then at them, and sighs, inviting them in. The children give quiet cheers, not wanting to attract anymore attention. Their stranger smiles as she sets Zelda down and goes to help the maid, occasionally whispering something into her ear. The loaf of bread is still steaming hot when they cut it into five slices, thick slabs of butter spread on to melt before the prince bravely opens a jar of honey with his own hands, and each of them receives a piece. Distracted by the delicious meal, none of them notice the helpful woman vanish without trace.

The maid fusses over them, making sure they all wash their hands, and sends them off with the promise not to tell as they make their way out once more.

"So what are we going to do now?" Nabs asks, licking a bit of honey from their finger.

Zelda, mostly recovered from her crying bout before and feeling a lot better after the food and some water, purses her lips. "We can look at the stars?"

"We can get on the roof of the gazebo for a better view," the prince offers with a sigh, looking like he regrets suggesting it in the first place.

Katsuo's eyes sparkle and he immediately sets off, causing Akona to whisper-yell after him as they try to catch up. Nabs follows at a more sedate pace, once more leaving the little prince and princess alone.

"I've never climbed like this before," Zelda says, clutching his hand. "Is it scary?"

"A little," he replies, squeezing her hand. "But we'll be there to help you, we've all climbed lots. My uncle Sooga says it's a good skill to have. Once he had us climb to the roof of the Lotus Palace— that is, our home. The one I’m going to be king of when I grow up."

By the time they reach the gazebo, Katsuo has already climbed to the very top, with Akona halfway up and Nabs quietly waiting for their own turn. The prince gently nudges Zelda in front of him, offering her a reassuring smile and showing her how to grip the vine. Alas, she is too startled to react, eyes growing big as she watches Akona make their way up with little issue, feet quickly finding stepping stones to push them the right way.

Taking pity on the poor frightened Hylian, Nabs pulls her to the side to show her how to actually climb, explaining this or that.

"But what if I fall?" Zelda says, her voice soft and quiet. Mother will kill her if she falls!

"You won't fall," the Gerudo princess promises, their face earnest. "I promise. I will be right beside you."

"You just keep trying until you don't fall. But you'll never know until you try," the prince says, helping her find her first handholds. "Then you're going to put your foot there…" He gives her a gentle nudge, then steps aside for his cousin to join her.

They are both so calm. Zelda shakes like a leaf, but listens to the calming voice of her new friends as she slowly lifts her foot and pushes forward.

"Just like that!" Nabs says, smiling. "Now the next one. Just go slow, right?"

Once she reaches the top, Akona helps her pull herself over, offering a bright grin. Much to their amusement, Zelda just flops down on the roof. By the time she’s caught her breath, everyone has joined them up, and it’s quite once more. Together the five friends just lie there, basking in the moment.

"Stars," Akona declares firmly. "What are Hylian constellations?"

She's not acting at all like a proper princess, she knows. Still, Zelda sits up and brushes her wild hair out of her face, then tilts her head to glance at the open sky, littered with little lights like gems. First, she points northwards.

"We call this one Hylia's star. The one that will always help you find your way. And around it, here, is the Dragon…"

She doesn't quite know how long they spend there, trading constellations and stories. The Gerudo have Hylia's star too, but she is the guide of their Eight Heroines, which they say are her children. It's not the right season for their dragons—three sisters, who were sisters to the prince’s namesake, the first Ganondorf—but they still share the stories.

They don't quite stay out until dawn, but there's certainly more activity in the kitchen when they finally scramble down the gazebo and help Zelda to her room.

"Do you want to have another adventure?" the prince asks her, almost shy, once they’ve helped her climb up to the window once more. "Maybe not tonight, but the night after?"

She blinks as she looks at her room, at the guards probably standing silent outside her door, then back at him. His earnest expression makes her blush, though she doesn’t know why.

"I would love to," she murmurs, shyly smiling at him, then closes the window and ducks back inside, waving to her friends as they disappear into the slowly approaching dawn.

After she went adventuring the night prior, the next day finds Zelda rather sleepy and tired, hiding her little yawns and rubbing her eyes when there’s no one looking. She doesn't tell her mother, of course—she's afraid of what she would do to her friends if she found out. And even then, Mother doesn't allow sleeping in; she can’t be lazy. It’s not proper. And so, the princess rolls out of bed bright and early and goes on about her daily routine without a hitch. It’s not her first time failing to sleep.

She's upset that she doesn't see anyone during breakfast, but the Queen says the prince is still asleep, which means that the rest of her friends probably are too. She does her morning prayers and then wanders about for a little while, guards at her heels, making sure the silly little princess doesn’t get lost. It's not until the midday meal that they see each other again, and even then she has to pretend to not be excited to see them. Mother cannot know.

She will be cross, Zelda knows. She will be scary . Zelda was a bad girl and her friends would be hurt. So she stays quiet and polite, to protect them. She can't let them be harmed just because she's so rotten. They don’t deserve to be hurt.

Prince Ganondorf takes the seat beside hers with his bright, kind smile, the kind that makes her chest feel warm and goopy. Akona sits on his other side. "Good afternoon, Zelda."

The dining hall is rather peaceful—there aren't many adults around, fortunately—and so Zelda feels less fear returning his smile, joy radiating from her like a ball of light. Mother is so far away and she's busy, she won’t notice. She can talk to her friends.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness. I hope you have rested well." He's so close and it makes her feel… calm. She doesn't understand it. People usually have the opposite effect on her.

"I did, I hope you did too."

She only had a little sleep after they left her, but is that a thing she could say? No. No when Mother could hear her, or someone else, and she would get them all in trouble. Zelda takes a bite from her food and thinks of what else to say. Something that won't hint about their adventure last night.

"How do you like Hyrule so far?" she asks, trying her best to sound like she's heard adults speak. She's turning ten, she's nearly an adult already.

The prince relays the question to Akona, who wrinkles their face like they’ve bitten into something sour and makes him laugh. "It's cold, and wet," he translates, hiding his chuckles. "Kinda like Karusa Valley, but with fewer trees. It's very different from Gintu, which makes it interesting."

"It isn't so cold," Zelda tries to defend, gently shaking her head. "At least, not now! The snow in the winter is so pretty. It looks like a fluffy white blanket. But your face hurts if you stay out for too long…"

She flushes when she realizes she'd rambled on, and looks down at her plate. She's supposed to finish her meal and head off for her midday prayer. She’s talking too much again.

"We're used to things being far warmer," the prince explains, so kind and gentle and wonderful. He’s so smart, too! “It is kind of cold for us. Maybe one day you can visit, and find out for yourself. I think you will like it in Gintu.”

Akona claps their hands, excitement sparkling in their bright eyes, and starts chattering quickly in Gerudo. Something pokes at the back of Zelda’s head, but she ignores it, and tries to focus; although she cannot understand a word, her friend’s excitement warms her little heart. When the prince does translate to the best of his abilities however, her smile grows a bit sadder.

"I would love to come, one day," she says, wistful more than ever. "But I'm not allowed to. A princess or Queen of Hyrule cannot leave her home."

He wrinkles his nose. "That's silly. I'm going to be a King, and no one's ever said I couldn't travel. When you're Queen, who'd have the right to tell you what to do?"

"Hyrule doesn't have Kings. Maybe it's different for you." She shakes her head gently. "But the Queen's duty is to stay and protect her people. To listen to the Mothers and let herself be Their voice. It's our divine task to live by Their command and follow Their will. If a Queen doesn't do what They wish, she is… she is…"

Put to sleep, Mother said. Hylia lives and dies for her people. Hylia is just a Divine Vessel. It's her duty to obey and follow what They have said. Zelda had been so frightened when Mother first told her about it, when she brought up the ceremony. She doesn't want to die! She will obey Them. She will never leave her duty behind. She will be a good Queen, she has to be a good Queen.

The prince’s expression is thoughtful when he finally speaks, his voice gentle as he waves Akona’s angry mutterings away. "The Mothers did give us free will. All of us—even for Kings and Queens."

Zelda just shakes her head, feeling light-headed. She doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t want to die. She can’t question Them, can’t disobey. She can’t . She is fortunately saved by having to continue the conversation by her mother, who walks to their table with her usual serene expression, reaching to gently put one hand on her shoulder.

"Have you finished with your meal, Zelda?"

"Yes, Mother." She hasn't, but it doesn't matter—anything to escape this. She doesn't want to die. She doesn't want to even think about it. And she did eat more than she should last night, so it all lines up just the right way. "I will wash my hands before we go."

"I will be waiting for you at the door." Mother steps back so she can slip from her chair and nods at her friend. "Prince Ganondorf. I'm glad you are keeping my daughter company."

The prince nods, his expression stormy. And then they’re off.

The midday prayer passes by peacefully and although she misses having friends, Zelda is thankful for a moment of quiet. It's rather stupid to miss them, she knows—is she ever going to see them again? No. None of this makes any sense. She shouldn't be thinking of it! Not with the ceremony. Nothing else matters, now. She needs to prepare for her duty. She is Hylia. She is Hyrule. She is nearly a woman grown, she needs to stop thinking about silly little things and focus on what is important. On what she has been born to be.

"You seem troubled," Mother says, as they leave the shrine and set on a stroll through the garden.

"I'm just nervous for the ceremony," Zelda replies. She's very good at half-truths.

Mother hums. "I'm sure it's going to go by just as it should. You have no reason to worry, Zelda. I will be there to make sure everything is perfect. The Great Mothers love you, dear one."

The gardens in daytime are a far different beast than in the night. Birdsong and insects fill the air, as does the sweet scent of flowers. The now familiar sound of chatter and laughter makes Zelda want to run off ahead, but she holds. Princesses don't run. She is growing too attached.

After a moment, they clear the turn and find the clearing where her friends are playing. Akona happily hangs from one of the trees and encourages the prince and Katsuo play-wrestling on the grass. Nabs sits beneath the same tree with a handful of different leaves, mostly paying the rest no attention. It looks wonderful.

Despite her earlier thoughts, Zelda yearns to join them so much her heart hurts. She tugs on her mother's sleeve, hoping to get at least a moment of her attention. She knows Mother is busy, but…

"Yes, Zelda?" Mother looks down at her, frowning gently. Her hand reaches out and gently detaches her own. "Don't do that, love. You know it's rude to demand someone's attention."

Immediately, Zelda drops her hands and bows her head. "I'm sorry, Mother. It's never going to happen again." Rotten, rotten girl! She shuffles on her feet. "I… I wanted to ask if… if I would be allowed to spend time with the other children. Only… only a minute…"

"Oh, love,” Mother says softly, gently shaking her head. “You know better than asking such silly questions. You have work to do. You're growing up, you know it's time to put childish things like playing behind you."

In the distance, Akona moves to hang upside down, pink hair brushing the ground, only to shriek when Nabs flicks little leaf arrows at their face. They let themselves fall, landing catlike on the ground, and tackle their friend with gusto, both quickly descending into loud laughter.

"But- but Mother," Zelda says, so soft and sweet, "it will only be a minute, I promise. I just want to show them how to make a flower crown."

Her mother's kind expression grows stormy. She lets out a deep sigh. "Zelda, dear." The lines around her eyes are tight. "Please, love. Don't force my hand. You know you're not supposed to disturb, don't you? Good girls stay out of the way and obey their elders, and you are a good girl." She strokes her cheek. "Be good, love. Don't force me into anything neither of us wishes."

At once, guilt washes over the little princess, and she nods, big, fat tears pooling in her eyes. She doesn't say a single other thing and just silently follows her mother back inside, making no sound as the ugly tears roll down her cheeks. She’s a good girl.

She's a good girl, Zelda chants to herself the entire day, as she goes through her lessons and listens to her mother speak to this and that person. She has overstepped, forgotten her place. Last night was a mistake—how could she have done this? She is Hylia, she is the hope and dreams of Hyrule. She cannot risk it all to play some silly children's games. She feels so, so guilty, her sins crushing her little back. She's a horrible girl. A rotten girl. She doesn't deserve Mother's love and her kind smile.

Maybe she should go somewhere else. Somewhere where she won't hurt anyone. Maybe the Goddesses will accept her.

Dinner rolls around and before long she's back in the dining room adjacent to her mother's apartment, dressed in her finery. Mother sends her a sharp look just as their guests arrive. Stay out of the way. Be quiet. Don't cause trouble . She will be good, she will make her mother proud. She hates being such a disappointment.

Zelda stands out of the way and quietly watches the adults talk to one another, her hands hidden in her sleeves, her expression calm and serene. The perfect princess—the daughter that will make her mother happy. She's good at this.

Her hands shake when she senses the Gerudo Prince drawing next to her. "Princess," he greets, his charming smile dimmer than it was in the morning. "Can I escort you to the table?"

She's not supposed to talk to anyone, but he's so nice! Shyly, she nods her head, and allows him to lead her away like a lord would his lady.

"We missed you today," he says quietly, leading her to the same window they’ve sat by last night. "We found a pond today with fish just like the ones in Parapa…"

She listens—she's a good girl, of course she listens. She stands beside him and nods along, doing her best to remain the perfect princess. Koi fish—they are so pretty, she cannot believe he saw them. She wants to see them too, but has only done so in paintings before. They sound wonderful. Everything he did sounds wonderful.

"I hope you can join us tomorrow." He gives her an encouraging smile. "I'd really like to show you everything. We tried to find you, but everyone said you were busy…" He rests his hand on the windowsill palm up, almost as if inviting her touch.

She just looks at him, eyes glassy and a little bit hollow. It's silly that he would look for her. Does he think she will believe him? Why would anyone look for her? She's the princess. She always has something she needs to do. Silly Gerudo prince. He doesn’t need her. His life is perfect.

Her mother calls her name. Zelda gives the prince a curtsy and quickly slips by so she can please her mother, jumping to fit into her seat along with the adults. She's nearly an adult, after all. She shouldn't play with children.

The prince passes her by on the way to his own seat, his eyes turned away, his hands curled into fists. "If you didn't want to be friends," he mutters to her. "You could've just said so."

I do, she wants to say, her heart breaking. But she doesn’t. She can’t.

She leaves her plate untouched and goes to her room without a peep, like Mother instructed. Not a sound. A good girl keeps out of the way. The door closes quietly behind her, not a noise, and the lock too is silent. Zelda stares at the wall for a moment, confused, unfocused, before her tiny body crumples on the floor. Rotten girl.

That night, she can't sleep. Again.

At least, tonight the reason is different—guilt. Horrible, horrible guilt fills her belly, makes her cry, and she hides her tears into her pillow so the guards won't hear her. Her head hurts—she wants to sleep so much—but she can't. Everything hurts.

She's a horrible person. A horrible daughter, a horrible friend. In her attempts to make them both happy, she failed everything. Is there even a point, if she keeps… failing? If there's nothing good to come out of her?

She isn't useful. And Mother said that if you aren't useful, the kindest thing to do is to stay out of everyone's way.

She doesn't have that many clothes not bearing the royal emblem, but she does have some. So she takes them. Socks, too—she's always had cold feet. No food, but she knows how to fast, and maybe she will be able to beg something out of the kitchen staff if she's good enough. Shoes—yes, actual shoes this time, her sturdy boots she'd worn on the trip there. Things she can sell for food…

Her pack clumsily prepared, Zelda puts the chair beneath the window once more and carefully climbs out, wincing when she hits the ground. It's no biggie, through—she's almost an adult, she doesn't mind it. No one notices. She doesn't know how much time she has until someone does find her out, but maybe she can put some space between herself and the temple before her escape is discovered. Maybe there will be a farmstead looking for someone to help, or a shrine she could become the keeper of. There will be less people to disappoint than in the castle. 

Mother would be furious, but she will find a new princess, Zelda knows. She will be okay. Hyrule doesn't need her. With one last look at the Temple of Time, tears filling her eyes, the runaway princess turns away and sets off into the night, to a far-away place where she won't hurt anyone.

It’s perhaps a miracle that Nabs, Katsuo, and Akona—the friends who actually care about him—manage to get him out of bed and back into the night, hovering close as they make their way back to the fish pond, clearly worried after all the crying and talking he’d done earlier. It makes him love them all the more, and perhaps he clings to them more than he usually does, their gentle love soothing his heart. People who actually love him.

The fish aren’t swimming around, of course, and their searching doesn’t reveal any, even when they toss food onto the surface of the pond. Sighing, Gan kicks a rock into the grass, not really feeling up for anything at all. He just wants to curl up in his bed and sleep until they reach Gintu.

“What’s that?” Katsuo asks, voice breaking the quiet, and they all look to see him pointing at a glimmering bit of amber in the distance.

Gan shrugs, wholly uninterested, and calmly allows himself to be grabbed and pulled along. Might as well see what it is. Nothing matters anymore.

They’re close to the hedges that separate the house from the Temple when they come across the princess. Her hair is wild and loose around her, her purple eyes dark and puffy when she looks at them, as if she’s been crying too. Gan should feel surprise, but all there is is sullen pain at the sight of her.

“Zelda?”

“What’re you doing?”

“Are you okay?”

The princess holds her hands out to keep them away and takes a step back, only to then trip over a rock and fall over. Katsuo gets to her first, offering her a hand up, but she doesn’t take it. She just crawls back up on her wobbly legs and hugs the bag she’s carrying against her chest like a shield.

“Don’t… don’t look at me,” she says, though it sounds like she’s going to start crying any moment. “Just, please, forget you saw me. Nothing, I’m, I’m doing nothing…”

Nabs reaches out, but only manages to briefly grab one of the bag’s straps. “What do you have here then?”

“Nothing!” the princess cries, eyes darting every which way. “I need to go. Please, don’t tell anyone you saw me.”

“Where are you going?” Akona asks, far gentler, and takes a step closer to her. “It’s dangerous to go running alone at night, especially if you don’t know where you’re going. You might just fall off the plateau.”

Gan finds himself approaching as well, as conflicted as his feelings are— no matter how much she hurt him, he hates seeing her so terrified. It’s wrong, and that thing inside of him wants to make it stop. “It’s okay,” he whispers, voice rough from his earlier crying. His hand reaches towards her, fingers curling around her forearm. He tries to smile too, but doesn’t know how well he does. He just wants her to be safe.

Zelda stares at them all for a long moment. Confused. Lost. She blinks, and sniffs, and then—

Then, she begins to cry. Fat, ugly tears like the ones he cried only a few hours ago, rolling down her round cheeks and dripping down her small chin, her shoulders shaking as she sobs and gasps for air. A golden light begins to shine from between her fingers, and Gan can only stare.

She jerks free before any of them can offer any comfort, running in the opposite direction that she came from as fast as she can. Nabs shakes themselves free of the confusion first, chasing after the golden ball that is now Zelda, whisper-calling after her. The rest of them quickly gather their bearings and follow them, and the young prince prays to the Mothers that no one happens to look out the windows anytime soon. They will surely get in trouble if anyone else sees them, and he doesn’t want that. Especially with the Princess of Hyrule clearly trying to run away.

Damn it.

Despite his cousin taking off before him, it is Gan who crashes into Zelda first, tackling her to the ground and weaving a shadow web he hopes will be enough to dim her bright lights.

“Don’t fight me,” he grumbles, using his hands to gently pin her down, hissing beneath his breath.

“Let me go!” she cries, struggling harder, hands trying to push at him. All to no avail— he is stronger than her, he won’t lose her. Not again , a little voice whispers. “Please, let me go! I don’t want to hurt you! I don’t want to hurt anyone! I’m sorry, I’m sorry… You won’t ever have to see me again, you won’t even hear word of me, I promise. Just let me go first…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Gan soothes over and over, holding her close, encircling her with his warmth.

After another minute their friends finally catch up, surrounding them in a rough circle. Maybe she’s still glowing, maybe Nabs can see through his shadows. Doesn’t matter, he supposes. Not when they join him in holding Zelda, their voices becoming a susurrus of calming noise around her. Little by little, her struggling turns to trembling, to small shivers. Muttering to each other, they help her stand and nudge her back towards the house, as far away from her rooms as possible, even if it means taking a more circular route to the guest suite. That’s alright. They knew how to sneak very well.

Eventually they reach the glass door that leads inside the Gerudo quarters. A drop of blood satisfies the wards that keep it safe and they creep in, closing the door behind them. A strip of light shines from under his aunt’s door, but as much as he wants to take the princess to her, to show her that some adults care deeply, Gan instead leads her to the room he, Nabs and their friends share.

Here they practically shove Zelda onto the bed, taking her bag and shoes before she can protest. Even so she tries to fight them still, something he would perhaps find admirable in any other situation; clearly, that they’re just trying to help doesn’t seem to sink into her mind yet. She’s still crying as they cuddle around her on the bed, though the tears dry and turn to wet sniffles, and eventually even those begin to fade away. She looks like a sad, wet kitten.

“What were you doing?” Katsuo asks, briefly crawling away to grab some pillows and blankets from the side.

Zelda twists her head to stare at the spot he just vacated, hunching in on herself again. So small. “Running away,” she says softly, rubbing at her face with her tiny hands. “I’m no good at being a princess, so I thought it would be easier if I just went away, took all my trouble with me. Then no one else would get hurt because of me.”

Nabs huffs. “That’s silly,” they say in the same tone their mother might use.

“And dangerous,” Akona repeats their earlier words. Fussy like an Ama sometimes. It’s part of why he loves them best.

Gan wishes she would just look at any of them, look at him. Unable to bear it anymore, he reaches for her, forcing her to turn and look at him. “I would be hurt,” he tells her gently. Even though she’d already hurt him, never seeing her again might hurt even more.

His princess huddles into herself again, eyes downcast. “I already hurt you,” she whispers. “You’d be happier if I weren’t around to make things worse again. So would Mother, everyone…” She blinks back tears. “Everyone would be happier.”

It sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself than them. Gan’s heart aches.

“That’s not true,” Katsuo says as he rejoins them, brushing a kiss against Zelda’s brow. In his arms, he has a pile of giant blankets, and they all fall and settle around them. “You didn’t ruin anything last night.”

“Friends hurt each other all the time,” Akona continues, brushing the hair from her face. “It’s just what happens. But we say we’re sorry, and do our best to not let it happen again.” They give her a squeeze, resting their chin on her shoulder. “I know I’d be less happy if you were gone.”

“We all would,” Gan agrees. “I’m sorry if I’m a part of the reason you feel like you do.” He supposes she did apologize, if not for earlier specifically. “And I forgive you for not knowing how to be friends with someone.” Clearly she is new to all of this.

“It’s not something that can be forgiven,” Zelda protests. “I hurt you,” she sounds so dejected. “I’m a bad person, all I do is hurt people. I have to go.

“And you,” she twists her head back to look at everyone else. “You don’t even know me. How can you say you’d be sad without me? You don’t have to see me every day. You don’t have to live with me like the people here, to know every bad thing I do. You’ll get to go back to your nice homes and you’ll forget me! Not like everyone in the castle who has to suffer me. I’m bad news! I disappoint everyone ! I’m a bad daughter and a terrible friend!” She gestures in the empty air. “What is the point? No matter how hard I try to please one person, I fail, or hurt someone else in the process. My mother deserves a better daughter. Hyrule deserves a better princess. Not—” She hiccups. “Not me.”

Gently, afraid it might only cause her to run away, Gan takes her trembling hands and holds them close against his chest. “You did hurt me,” he agrees, hating the way she flinches. “But, you don’t get to decide if I forgive you or not. That’s being selfish, and self-centered. I do. And I forgive you.” That was one of the lessons Sage Sobik did her best to make sure he understood: that it isn’t your place to decide what others think or feel, how they act towards you. That forgiveness is personal.

“You’re right. We don’t have to live with you,” Nabs sighs and curls around Zelda, and he’s grateful they’ve decided to help him with this argument, strange as it is. “But still, beyond hurting Gan’s feelings, you haven’t done anything bad to us, or with us, for that matter. Maybe one day you’ll understand how much you can learn from one person in a few days.”

“You shouldn’t try to please everyone, anyways,” Akona says, their tone one of experience. They try to hide how demanding their mother can be, but they all see pieces of it.

Zelda looks even smaller than before, her fingers gripping his tunic. She sniffs, her shoulders trembling.

“I want to be your friend. All of you,” she says, swallowing thickly. She never looks away from him, her dark dark eyes seeming to suck the soul right out of his chest. “I wanted to come join you in the garden today when I saw you playing, but my mother said no. She said I wasn’t acting as I should, that I was asking for too much again. She only wants my best behavior in front of our guests, in front of you.” She blinks tears back. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

Everyone shifts closer, especially Akona, who wraps an arm around Zelda and squeezes. Nabs pats her shoulder. “Your mother sounds like a piece of work.”

“Don’t say that,” she protests with a shake of her head.

“Playing is important,” Katsuo chimes in, a little bashful. “We all have to do our important work first, sure, but play is good for us— or, at least that’s what my parents say.”

“I forgive you for hurting my feelings,” Gan repeats, pressing a kiss to Zelda’s cheek. “And I still want to be friends too.”

Something like a smile blossoms across her lips and he hopes it means good things. She opens her mouth, but all that leaves her is a yawn, which makes her blush. Akona just gives her another squeeze and burrows them both deeper under the blanket.

“Nap time.”

Zelda hums, managing some words this time. “Sleep… Sleep does sound nice.” Her eyes flutter, then close. She yawns again.

“Sleep,” Gan encourages. We’ll keep you safe.” He just hopes that’s a promise he can keep.

Nabs gives him a look, but says nothing, and he smiles, knowing it means they’ll help if it comes down to it.

One by one all his friends fall asleep, until only he remains awake. Not for much longer; the warm bodies that surround him and their gentle breathing pull him under quickly, arms wrapped around Zelda’s small body still.

Zelda wakes up to the sound of people.

Confusion and fear twist in her tummy. Where is she? She feels warm, safe, but this isn’t her bed. Someone beside her twitches, a foot brushing her own. She hears the sound of a woman’s voice very close by, as soft as her mother’s when she’s in a good mood, so gentle. What is happening?

Little by little, memories of last night return to her. Oh. She tried to run away, did she not? In a way, she did. Run away, that is. She is no longer in a place her mother will know, though she couldn’t manage to get very far away—Zelda supposes that can be considered a success. She’s with her friends, her friends who care, her friends who might even love her. She is safe.

One eye opens, and then the other. They’re still all wrapped up in blankets, curled around her like worms, save for the prince—his place beside her is empty. She hears his voice, floating by her, telling someone of finding her last night, of bringing her here. He sounds sad.

“We just wanted her to be safe,” she hears him say, and it breaks her little heart.

"Gan, sweetheart," the woman’s voice says, soft and gentle. It sounds like the Queen. "I'm very proud of what you did for your friend. It was very kind of you to bring her back in and protect her. But you should have gotten me as well, right? Those kinds of things require adults to help."

Do they? Zelda doesn’t know that. About adults. Not all adults are nice. She didn’t want to be seen as well—she wanted to run away and disappear. A part of her still wants to, but she’s here now. With her friends.

"I asked him not to," she says, still sleepy, and pokes her head from the bed. Softly, quietly, she untangles herself from the puppy pile and scoots over to the edge, giving the Gerudo Queen a shy smile and bowing her head.

The queen takes a deep breath, but smiles back. There are lines around her eyes. Zelda has spent enough times around adults to know that means they aren’t happy, but are trying their best.

The prince puts one arm around her and gently takes her hand, his touch soothing. She leans into him. "I want to keep keeping her safe," he tells his aunt, sounding very King-like in that moment. "Can she come with us?"

The Queen looks unsure. "Love, I'm not sure that's the wisest decision…"

"I don't want to stay here," Zelda murmurs, so quiet it could be the wind. "I'm not a good princess, Your Majesty. I keep making things wrong."

Queen Urbosa reaches to touch her cheek. "Your mother will miss you."

"She will," Zelda replies. "But only for a little while. She will find a new Zelda. She always does. Lady Komori told me. We are all the same for her."

Her prince squeezes her hand. She squeezes back.

"Is Komori here now? Or anywhere close to the plateau?" the Queen asks, sounding very much like an adult again. Always so tired and stressed.

Zelda shakes her head. "Mother left her to watch over the castle while we were away. She's supposed to come here for the ceremony, but only then." Her expression becomes fearful. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause you trouble…"

"It's not your fault, little bird," she says, cupping the little princess’ cheek, her eyes kind. They shine like the color of fresh leaves in the summer, dark green, with little flecks of gold. "These things are bigger than you or even I. We have no hand in the songs the Mothers weave for us.”

The Queen reaches into her clothes and pulls out a small knife the size of her finger and a scroll of paper. Before either prince or princess can say something, she slices the blade into her thumb, squeezing her eyes and breathing thickly. Red wells from the wound, dripping down her palm; squeezing the blade with her wounded hand, she unrolls the scroll with the other one and smears crimson onto the paper, covering whatever might’ve written on it with her lifeblood. Mist rises from the scroll.

"Kohga, Sage, and blood of my blood, I call to you, dear friend, brother…"

Not that Zelda sees any of it, though. Blood frightens her, deeply, and the little princess gives a weak whimper and hides into her prince’s side, clutching at his clothes, shivering when she feels his arms surround her. Blood is so scary. Like the night at the temple, she feels about to faint.

Fortunately, it's over quickly, and before long she feels that familiar tugging at the top of her belly that tells her there's some magic going on around her. Her prince keeps rubbing her back, murmuring nonsense against her head. It’s nice.

"Well, well," a voice says, familiar and not at all at the same time. "What do you have here for me, dear friend?"

"It's a long story," that's the Queen's voice. "I'm afraid we don't have much time to speak of it, before she senses you."

"I see,” the other person, the one she called brother, replies. Shyly, Zelda peers between her fingers, to see a smiling man in dark clothes looming above them. “Nephew, Princess."

"Uncle Kohga," prince Ganondorf replies, a smile of his own on his face.

Uncle Kohga is a large, jovial man with bright red eyes and curly hair, dressed in odd clothes that remind her of Komori’s traveling robes, but not quite. He is smaller than the Queen Regent, but still much taller than almost all the people she knows. Something about him feels familiar, though she can’t quite tell what. She gives him a shy wave.

A wan smile tugs at the Queen's lips. "As much as I'm sure we want to sit down and have tea, dear friend, we really don't have the time." She gestures to Zelda. "We've agreed to take her back to Gintu, but she's already missing since last night, and Laurea is on alert."

The strange man nods, rubbing at the streak of hair on his chin, then approaches the bed, bowing once more. It feels dramatic, and perhaps she giggles a little. "Hello, little Lady of Light." He offers her his gloved hand. "If you come with me I shall take you to my home, where my husband and I will watch after you until your Prince arrives. How does that sound to you?"

He's not her prince, she wants to say. He doesn't belong to her.

Shyly, Zelda turns to face him head on. She doesn't know why, but even though he should be scary, the large man makes her feel safe, like he will be nice to her. Shyly, she puts her hand in his, then squeaks when he easily picks her up in his arms.

"Careful," the strange man says, though he is smiling. "Your mother and I are old friends, little Lady, she will know I'm here if we're not careful. No wild magic."

"No wild magic," Zelda agrees. She doesn't remember the last time anyone carried her—it's nice. She misses it, and she curls around him, happy to be held so gently. He rubs her back.

Prince Ganondorf leaps out of bed, catching them before they get to the door, and tugs on his uncle’s belt. It makes him stop, and both of them look down at the prince.

"We'll come get you," he promises Zelda. "It'll take us a lot longer to get to Gintu, but we will. I swear it. And uncles Kohga and Sooga will take good care of you until then. We will meet again before you know it."

She nods, smiling shyly. "I will be waiting. I hope you are safe." She pats the man's arm down until he helps her head far enough to press a small kiss on the prince's cheek, then quickly climbs back up, embarrassed and hiding into his large, flared collar.

Her prince.

The man laughs, warm and gentle, and picks her up higher. "You heard the lady, dear nephew. Stay safe." He stops to kiss the Queen's hand, then walks them right into the shadow he came through, and they are submerged in darkness.

Zelda shivers when they resurface, clinging to the strange man—Kohga, his name is Kohga—like a leaf. She's so small and so scared, limbs wrapped tightly around him. Kohga brings his hand up and gently rubs her back, whispering sweet nothings.

It was morning on the Great Plateau—here, wherever here is, it is still dark, the grayish light of predawn. Zelda hears the sound of something rustling and pokes her head up, curious, only to squeal when she sees an even bigger man stand up from a bed, his long white hair falling down his back.

"Kohga," the man asks, his voice deeper than a ravine; his left eye is grotesquely ruined, leaving only a deep scar. "What is..?"

"Long story, love." Kohga hoists her up further into his arms. "But this is Zelda. And she will be staying with us until your sister and nephew come fetch her. Zelda, why don't you say hello? This is Sooga, my husband, and lady Urbosa's big brother. He will help me keep you safe."

Shyly, Zelda waves at Sooga, then hides against Kohga's collar again.

He hums and kisses the top of her head. "You are safe here, little lady. No one will hurt you while I watch over you."