Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

Song: Experience by Ludovico Einaudi

It was the perfect spring day, and Zelda couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than playing hoop and hide in the gardens with her best friend, Link. He never failed to find her no matter where she hid, but today would be different. This time he’d never discover her, wedged as she was in a small alcove behind a squirrel topiary. She was sure to win. Stifling a giggle, she peeked around the shrub. 

His keen ears perked up at the small sound and he swiveled his head in her direction. She caught a flash of his sapphire blue eyes and quickly ducked back behind the greenery. Clasping her hands in front of her mouth to stifle her laughter, Zelda squeezed her eyes shut. She stood as still as a statue, making herself as small as possible, and tried to blend in with her surroundings. 

He trod softly, his riding boots barely making a sound on the gravel pathways. She strained to ascertain if he was approaching or moving away in a different direction. His footsteps stopped. She pressed her back against the cool wall and held her breath. The earthy aroma of the hedge filled her nostrils. There wasn't another sound other than buzzing bees in the nearby rose bushes.

At least another minute passed. Zelda smiled, basking in her victory. Her excitement was brief, however, when feather-light ripples along her sides halted the thought before it took root. Shrieking, she batted at the hands tickling her.

Her eyes flew open to find Link's mischievous face inches from her own. She could see the light dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose from hours spent in the sun herding goats on his family’s estate. A gentleman farmer was what his father, Ordona, the Duke of Faron, jokingly referred to himself as.

Link’s dark blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “Found you, Mouse.”

“No fair!” she cried, but her protest dissolved into laughter as he mercilessly tickled her. When she finally broke free, her breath came in ragged gasps, and her mirth deflated. She scowled at the cocky grin plastered on his face. “Stop calling me Mouse. I hate that nickname.”

He tossed a lock of blond hair out of his eyes. “Do not.” 

“Do too!” She marched past him toward the Great Fairy fountain situated at the center of the garden. Blue and green rupees, scattered along the bottom, glittered in the bright afternoon sun. “I’m never playing hide and seek with you again if you keep calling me that.”

He followed after her, uncontrite and still chuckling. “Come on, Mouse. Don’t be a spoilsport.” 

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to tell everyone we know you’re still afraid of the dark.” She whirled around to face him, tossing her long, auburn hair over her shoulder. 

Two bright splotches of red bloomed on Link’s cheeks. The trickling of the water into the large marble basin grew louder by the minute as they stared at one another. Zelda held on to her sternest glare, brows drawn in and mouth thinning.  

“You wouldn’t really do that, would you?” His stricken face doused her anger in an instant.

Her expression crumbled. Why had she said that? It was their secret, something he’d confided to her, and her alone, long ago.

Link feared the encroaching darkness the twilight brought with it every evening. He burned a candle at night to keep the shadows and their suffocating presence at bay. He'd confessed to it during one of their heartfelt conversations when she'd explained why she could no longer visit his home, Faron Grove Hall, nestled amongst the woods of Faron.

When Zelda was only seven, she had experienced a horror that would be forever seared in her memory. A pack of wolves, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger,  had descended upon her and her mother when they had been out one evening taking a stroll. Zelda had escaped, but her mother hadn’t been so fortunate. This traumatic event had  left an indelible mark upon and ever since, she refused to set foot in any type of glen and forest.

“No, of course not! We shared those confidences in good faith.” She reached for his hand and pulled him down to sit beside her on the edge of the fountain. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“I do.” Link looked down, his expression still pensive. “It’s stupid, even my father says so. You’d think, at fifteen, I’d have outgrown it by now. Your fear will always be valid, mine is not.” When he looked back at her, a small furrow between his brows marred his otherwise smooth features. “I’m sorry I upset you. I’ll stop calling you Mouse. If I can’t overcome my own fear, I shouldn’t say anything that may remind you of yours.” 

He’d called her Mouse since the day they met, long before her mother’s tragic death. She’d been shy and timid at first, until his friendly smile and calm demeanor had broken the ice between them. 

Link put on a brave face, and she knew she was the only one, outside his family, he’d ever trusted with his fear of the dark. She shouldn’t have thrown it down like a gauntlet between them. Tears stung the corners of her sky blue eyes. She didn’t want to ever do anything to make him doubt her trust and friendship.

“I’m sorry, too." Zelda sighed, regretting her empty, thoughtless threat. "It’s not stupid to be afraid of something. Mouse doesn’t upset me because of what happened to my mother. I don’t want you to think I’m as timid as one.”

“I would never think that,” Link assured her. “You are far removed from those traits. You’re the smartest, most adventurous girl I know.”

Raising an eyebrow, Zelda blinked away the tears and gave him an appraising look. “Oh? What about Ilia? You told me once that she roams the forests barefoot.”

“She’s only a friend.” He rubbed the back of his neck before glancing at her and away again. “You mean far more to me.” 

Her heart skipped a beat at his confession, and warmth flooded her cheeks. Zelda turned her head, allowing her hair to fall across her face, under the pretense of staring at the clear water bubbling in the fountain. She didn’t want  him to see how his simple declaration affected her. 

Link took her hand, clasping it between his. It was an act they’d done a thousand times, but never before had it caused her scalp to prickle so pleasantly. “Do you forgive me, Zelda?”

She chanced a glance at him, his blond hair shimmered like spun gold in the sunlight and the sincerity she saw in his eyes pierced her soul. Her unspoken feelings for him were mirrored there. Something that had naturally blossomed between them as the years had passed, without them even noticing—until now it seemed.

Her breath caught in her throat at the realization and her answer came as a hushed whisper, barely audible, “Yes.” 

Blowing out a puff of air he’d been holding, just as she had, Link smiled shyly. “Good. Now that that’s settled, I have a gift to give you.” He reached for something in his waistcoat pocket. 

“A gift?" She raised a querying eyebrow. "My fourteenth birthday is still a month away.” 

“I know. I was going to save it until then, but, well…” He pulled a delicate silver chain from his pocket.

Zelda widened her eyes. From his fingers hung a beautiful amethyst pendant shaped like a teardrop the size of a walnut. It sparkled as it swung between them, and an ethereal glow emanated from its center. She looked from the elegant piece of jewelry to his expectant eyes and back again. This was no ordinary gift.

“It’s a Twili shadow crystal. My mother gave it to me last year when I turned fifteen. It’s a few years before we’ll be of age,” he continued, his voice tinged with nervousness, “but I can’t imagine having someone other than my best friend always by my side… Would you consider…” 

Zelda threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace, cutting off the rest of his question. It’s meaning couldn’t be plainer. It was a promise. No matter when he asked her, there was only one answer she'd ever give.

 “Yes!” 

—

“I’m sorry.” 

Zelda couldn’t breathe. The gaping, black hole that had sprung in her chest engulfed her heart. She shook her head, refusing to believe the devastating news her father had just delivered.

That her one true love was gone.

She clutched the teardrop pendant until its faceted edges cut into her palm. Her throat closed up, constricted tightly, as if invisible hands were choking the life out of her. Tears welled in her eyes, and cascaded down her cheeks. Hot against her cold skin.

“No, you’re wrong. I’d know! I’d feel it. He’s not dead!”

“Zelda, I’m sorry. The letter I received left no doubt.” Her father handed her the missive. His blue eyes, the same color as her own, looked as anguished as the grief taking root deep within her. It was already becoming a tangible thing, she’d carry with her for the rest of her life. How could she not?

The words on the page spoke of tragedy and sorrow. Nearly the entire estate burned to a charred husk. The Duke of Faron and his small family—perished. The servants, safe in their quarters, unable to reach them in time.

It was a mistake. It had to be. This was only a nightmare. The truth was too awful to bear. She pinched herself, willing herself to wake up, but the letter remained, crumpled between her clenched fingers. The hole in her chest grew to a disproportionate size.

Link was truly gone.

Her father’s voice came as if from a great distance, explaining that the fire had started on the second floor, likely caused by an unattended candle near Link’s bed. A tragedy that could have been avoided if the bed curtains had been properly tied. A sudden gust through an open window had blown them into the flickering flame. The howling winds of Faron's rolling hills made it impossible to keep the blaze from spreading rapidly. It soon engulfed the entire east wing of the estate.

“He was afraid of the dark.” Tears ran in endless streams down Zelda’s face. She covered her mouth to muffle the gut-wrenching sob trying to claw its way from her throat. First her mother. Now Link. How could life be so cruel to take away those she loved the most in the world?

Her father reached for her, arms open, ready to pull her into a tight embrace. She pushed away, rushing past him to the door of his office and out into the drafty corridor. The only arms she wanted holding her were Link’s. The last hug they’d shared had been by the fountain; the day they’d given each other their hearts. She raced through the corridors trying to outrun the loss following close on her heels.

Bursting out of the castle into the moonlit gardens, Zelda stumbled down the paths. The once comforting scents of freshly turned earth and night-blooming flowers hung, thick and cloying, in the air. When she reached the topiary garden where she and Link had spent so many blissful hours, Zelda threw herself on the marble ledge of the fairy fountain. Its coldness seeped through her skirts—a harsh reminder of her new reality.

Zelda began to tremble as the shock of her father’s soul-crushing news sank in. How could she possibly go on knowing she’d never see Link again?

Memories flooded her mind. They’d never again go riding over Hyrule Field or spend lazy afternoons walking in the gardens sharing their secret hopes and dreams. She’d never see his crooked smile again, or his dark blue eyes, filled with endless curiosity, gazing at her. A lump formed in her throat. She’d never hear his laughter or the sound of his voice teasing her. And worse of all, he'd never call her Mouse again. 

She wept. Tears pouring, nose running in seemingly endless torrents of grief. The awful, choking sobs, ripped from her chest, drowned out the drone of crickets and the trickling water. She cried until there was no moisture left within her. By the time the last tear fell from her eyes her body ached, as if she’d been beaten. She’d lost track of time—had it been hours or mere minutes since she stumbled here?

As her sobs softened to quiet whimpers, a faint tread on the nearby gravel path caught her attention. She stiffened and hastily wiped the remaining tears from her face with her handkerchief. Had her father come looking for her? She’d pushed him away in his moment of need. He’d lost his best friend, too. Ordona had been her father’s closest friend and advisor.

Lifting her head, Zelda scanned the garden. 

The various shapes and heights of the topiary, highlighted by the silvery moonlight, cast eerie shadows over the ground. She heard the noise again. But it wasn’t boots on gravel, as she had expected. Low snuffling accompanied something cautiously moving along the path. A sound alarmingly similar to that of her father’s hunting hounds when they searched for prey. Or wolves prowling in the underbrush of the glen where she had once walked with her mother. 

Out of the darkness emerged a small, pale wolf with unusual white markings swirling on its head and body. The memory had become a living nightmare. Fear slivered like ice down her spine. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest, and her mind raced. What should she do? 

Zelda and her mother had been taking an evening stroll a mere stone’s throw from the castle when the wolves, having lost their fear of humans, came upon them without warning. But never had they trespassed within the castle walls.

The wolf moved toward her with deliberate slowness, its muscles rippling beneath its silvery fur. One luminous blue eye locked onto her, its gaze sharp and piercing. The other, opaque and clouded from a recent injury, stared ahead unseeing. 

Instinct kicked in. Zelda screamed, her blood-curdling shriek splitting the still air and freezing the wolf in its tracks. 

Rattling armor and pounding footsteps answered her call. The wolf—hardly larger than a pup—whined, giving her a doleful look. 

“Help me!” Zelda cried out, scrambling to stand on the fountain, and nearly falling into the basin.

 The approaching soldiers' shouts grew closer. With a parting whimper, the wolf turned tail and ran, kicking up gravel in its haste to escape. Covering her ears, Zelda didn’t stop screaming until the soldiers arrived.

Not long after, a mournful howl echoed through the night. 

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Song: I Know Those Eyes/This Man is Dead from the Count of Monte Cristo

When the first champagne cork popped, Zelda jumped at the sharp sound in the chill fall air. With each subsequent burst, other bottles spouted foaming plumes of bubbly that cascaded down their sides. The gathered crowd of nobles and gentry erupted in cheers and shouts of happy tidings.

Zelda’s fiancé, Shad, took her hand, his grip light and comforting. She smiled at him, making note of how the sunlight highlighted the strands of gold streaking through his dark brown hair. He almost always had a book in his hand, and looked incomplete standing there without one. 

She strained to feel more from his touch, but there wasn’t that special spark she’d heard others talk about. She’d only felt it once, the indescribable depth that could be hidden in such a simple gesture, but had been too young to understand the meaning. 

Her father, King Daltus, had urged her to let go of the past and, to that end, had sent her to university. He had hoped she’d move on and find peace and happiness there. The only thing she found was an affinity for research and study with Shad, which had grown into friendship. For that she was grateful.

But, by the furrowing of Shad’s brow, she feared her attempted smile wasn’t successful. The lenses of his wire-framed glasses magnified the worry in his hazel eyes. “Are you all right?”

Her hand instinctively went to the silver chain she wore and the teardrop pendant that lay hidden beneath her bodice. She clutched it tightly, feeling its familiar shape through the fabric, and summoned the will to make it through a day that was supposed to be joyous. It was cause for celebration. She was to be married. 

She had imagined this day countless times, but Shad—as kind and gentle as he was—wasn’t the one she had expected to be standing beside her. She couldn’t help but long for the unattainable, and she hated herself for that. 

Zelda breathed in deeply. The scent of damp earth and wood-smoke from the bonfire at the center of the garden were a perfect combination that always reminded her of late fall. It was meant to be soothing. She pushed memories of the happier days of her youth spent at garden parties similar to this with her long-lost best friend, Link, to the deep recesses of her mind. 

The hole his untimely death had left in her heart still felt like a gaping wound that refused to heal. As the years had passed, Zelda had come to realize it never would, and had grown to live with it. But Shad deserved to have her full attention on this momentous occasion. It wasn’t every day a royal engagement was announced.

“Of course.” She squeezed Shad’s hand tightly and broadened her smile. “I am simply overwhelmed by all the festivities. It’s all just so grand, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. By this time next year we’ll be wed.” Shad’s smile softened; open adoration chased the worry from his eyes. Zelda despised herself even more. She didn’t deserve his unconditional love. 

To distract herself from the troubling feeling, she looked out over the lawn below them. “Shall we greet our guests?” 

The attendees milled about the paths between low shrubbery patterned to represent the Royal Crest. She pulled him from the terrace’s marble railing and descended a short flight of stairs.

Long tables covered in white tablecloths, with ice sculpture centerpieces of swans, wind fish, and cherubs, were spread with all manner of food. At the very center stood a multi-tiered spice cake garnished with dried fruits, Hylian cones, and cinnamon sticks. 

Zelda’s former tutor, Auru, was standing just beyond a maid serving slices of cake to guests, and her heart swelled. He’d always been patient and kind with her, even when she’d bombarded him with questions. His face had accumulated more wrinkles since the last time she’d seen him, and his salt and pepper hair was now snow white. 

“Princess Zelda, it is so good to see you happy and well,” he greeted them when they stopped to speak with him.

The sound of his familiar voice lifted, if only momentarily, some of the burden from Zelda’s shoulders. “And you, Professor. Allow me to introduce you to my fiancé, Shad. Shad, this is my former tutor, Professor Auru.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Shad held out his hand to give Auru a firm handshake.

“Likewise. I’m glad I was able to make it back from Gerudo Desert to Castle Town in time to attend today’s festivities.” The corners of Auru’s eyes crinkled and the lines by his mouth deepened when he smiled at them. “So, tell me how you two met.”

“We met one day in the library,” Zelda answered, matter-of-factly. Shad’s barked laugh in response took her by surprise. She looked over at him, unable to read the expression on his face. “What?”

“It’s a far more whimsical story than that, my darling.” He shook his head at her, a bemused smile gracing his face. 

“Is it now? Do tell me.” Resting his elbow on an arm draped across his midsection, Auru stroked his white goatee. He divided his attention between them both and patiently waited for one of them to continue.

Shad took it upon himself to tell the occasion of their meeting. “Zelda studied library science at university. One day while working in the stacks, she was carrying a pile of books taller than herself and bumped into me.”

“I seem to recall you had your nose buried in a tome on Oocca history,” Zelda amended, smiling at the memory. “So, one could say you ran into me.”

“And I was horrified, seeing as she’s the Princess of Hyrule,” Shad said, with no small amount of chagrin coloring his words.

“Pish posh.” Zelda waved her hand dismissively. “We were both too busy apologizing for you to even recognize who I was until some time after the fact.”

Shad caught the hand she’d waved in his direction and smiled at her fondly. “Fair enough.” 

“At any rate, we soon became friends, and here we are.” Zelda sighed. Recalling the story of how they met made her realize she should consider herself lucky. Shad was the first gentleman who never expected anything more from her than genuine friendship.

Auru nodded his head approvingly and smiled. “I can see your fondness for each other. Friendship is a strong foundation for a solid marriage. I have no doubt you will be happy.”

His words, meant to be supportive and congratulatory, shattered the lightheartedness Zelda had begun to feel while they’d been conversing. Melancholy crashed over her like a sudden wave hitting a rocky shore and her knees nearly buckled. As if it were trying to drag her out to sea, forever lost in a maelstrom of longing for what was never meant to be.

She took Shad’s arm for support, and summoned a weak smile. “We should move on before our other guests begin to feel neglected. It was so lovely to see you again, Professor Auru.” 

Auru bid them farewell, his gaze lingering on Zelda a moment too long, and she knew he’d seen through her façade. She took a steadying breath of air, thick, not just with the smoke of the fire, but laughter and music. 

A lively waltz, played by Court musicians, filled the garden with its melody. As they wove through the crowd, greeting their guests and exchanging pleasantries, she stole glances at Shad. Lanterns hanging in the branches of the trees cast a warm glow to his pale, flawless face, but that same light made the lenses of his spectacles appear opaque. While he preferred to be elbow deep in his research, he'd settled into his role as the future prince consort with aplomb.

It was only when he looked at her as they reached an open area where several couples whirled about on a small parquet dance floor that she saw the flicker of self-doubt in his eyes. So he had noticed her dismay, as well.

“Shall we dance?” he asked.

This she could give him. “I’d like nothing more.”

Her quick reply melted the concern from his face, and Shad returned her smile. He led her to the center of the dance floor. Zelda rested her hand lightly on his shoulder, the roughness of his brown tweed jacket against her fingertips grounding her. With his hand firmly on the small of her back, her pale lavender gown swirled around their legs as she followed his lead. 

The other dancers paused, allowing them to take a solo turn around the floor. Shad was as skilled dancer as he was a scholar, and led her around the floor with graceful, controlled movements. When she caught his eye, she smiled, and tried to absorb the joy from everyone around her.

As they spun, she had the uncanny feeling they were being watched by more than the other couples waiting to rejoin them. Looking past Shad’s shoulder, Zelda thought she saw a shadowy form standing behind a goddess statue, but the dance had her turning away before she could get a better look. When the statue came back into her line of vision, there was nothing there. Had she imagined it?

Her heart quickened with each step, and she attempted to focus her mind on the moment, but the feeling of eyes following her persisted. She found herself scanning their surroundings looking for the source. 

At the end of the dance, Shad leaned in and gave her a tender kiss on the cheek. When he gently tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, there was a flicker of movement in a nearby copse of trees that sent another shiver down her spine.

“Is everything all right, Zelda?” Shad pulled back to study her, his brow once again furrowed.

“Yes. I enjoyed that immensely.” Shaking the feeling off, she took his hand with a smile that felt more genuine. “I’m parched. Let’s have some refreshment.”

They reached a round table that contained a large crystal punch bowl and delicate glasses. As Shad ladled lemonade into two glasses, a group of gaily chattering girls caught Zelda’s eye.  Their brightly colored frocks stood in stark contrast to the large weeping willow behind them. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw a shrouded figure standing at the edge of a pond beneath the tree. 

She was certain it wasn’t her imagination this time. Her heart began racing as she angled her head toward Shad and whispered, “Do you see that over there?”

Shad followed her gaze, his expression unconcerned behind his glasses. “I see nothing but shadows, my darling.”

Looking again, Zelda saw that he was correct. The girls had moved on, and there was nothing but the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind and the swaying of the branches, dipping low enough to brush the water's surface. She felt foolish. Allowing her imagination to run rampant, and causing her to see ghosts everywhere. 

“I must still be dizzy from spinning on the dance floor.”

“Perhaps we should sit down for a moment,” Shad suggested, and guided her to a nearby wrought iron bench. 

Settling on the cool metal, Zelda tried to dispel the lingering unease that still prickled her senses. “Thank you for your understanding, Shad.”

“Of course.” Shad sat beside her, placing a comforting hand on hers. “I'm fully aware, as Professor Auru pointed out, you chose me because of our friendship. I’m happy to have that as a foundation to start our marriage, but I hope, given time, your affections for me may grow.”

His eyes were full of sincerity to match his words when she dared to look at him. Guilt gnawed at Zelda’s insides. He was willing to support her through everything, even when she was unable to fully return his sentiments. Could unquenchable passion ever exist between them? Only time would tell. 

Her parents were a prime example. Theirs had been an arranged marriage. They had grown to love and care for one another, but Zelda was grateful she was, at least, given a choice of whom she would marry.

“It has been known to happen,” she replied. 

Shad took her answer as affirmation that she was not adverse to the idea and the slight tension in his shoulders visibly lessened.

They sipped the tart lemonade as they observed the festivities around them. The musicians played a merry jig, and laughter and the stomps of boot heels on the dance floor added a percussive element to the melody. The music had the desired effect. Zelda found herself relaxing, and tapped her foot in time, enjoying the moment.

Her father, accompanied by Bo, the Mayor of Ordon Village, rounded a bend in the path. The mayor’s bushy mustache quivered when he spoke, and his hands moved in broad gestures, emphasizing a point he was making.

Spotting Zelda and Shad, Daltus smiled proudly. Her heart swelled with love for her father. He’d been a pillar of strength for her through the loss of her mother and again the loss of both their best friends. He’d never allowed his grieving to keep him from caring for her. Now that she was older, she realized how much he had to sacrifice to ensure her happiness. 

Leaving their glasses on the bench behind them, Zelda and Shad rose as the two men approached. Shad respectfully bowed his head to Daltus when he stopped in front of them

“My lovely daughter and Lord Shad, what a handsome couple you make. Do they not, Bo?” he asked.

Bo beamed at them, his round cheeks reminding Zelda of red apples. “Most certainly, Your Majesty! A union between the Earl of Kakariko and the Princess of Hyrule will surely be blessed by the Golden Goddesses themselves.” He directed his attention fully to Shad. “His Majesty was telling me you are a scholar of Hyrule’s ancient history and currently writing a book.”

Never one to turn down an opportunity to discuss his deepest passion, Shad  adjusted his glasses and smiled broadly. One of his greatest desires was to become a renowned author with several published theses to support that status. “Yes. I am currently working on my doctoral dissertation on Hyrule’s cultural history.”

“My daughter, Ilia, is also fascinated with Hyrule’s history. She would love to pick your brain. Perhaps you’d be interested in visiting Ordon Village sometime soon.” Bo’s joviality waned. Rocking on his heels, he hooked his thumbs in a broad leather belt buckled tightly around his portly waist, and became more serious. “As a matter of fact, that is something I wanted to discuss with you, Your Majesty. I was hoping you could send a squad of soldiers back to Faron with me when I return.”

Bo had taken on the bulk of the responsibilities regarding Faron and Ordona after the Duke’s passing. Zelda had never met the heir of the late Duke. He was a distant cousin who lived abroad and had been too young to take on the duties at the time of the accident. Only recently had he begun to assume the reins from Bo, but remained elusive. He was known to be somewhat of a recluse and eschewed any, if not all, social engagements. He’d declined the invitation to attend today’s festivities, as well. 

To that end, if anything pressing needed to be immediately addressed, he sent word via his steward, Coro, who lived on a small estate just outside Ordon Village. To her knowledge, the Duke had never set foot in Hyrule or the ruined estate, Faron Grove Hall.

“Oh?” Daltus raised an eyebrow at the request. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Livestock have been going missing.” Bo wrung his hands, worry evident upon his face. “The villagers are frightened the children could be next. The abductions have been increasing and occurring nearly every night. The Duke has left it in my hands to handle the situation as I see fit. I’ve enacted a curfew to keep the village safe until we can root out the culprits.”

Daltus rubbed his chin thoughtfully, considering Bo’s words. “This is troubling news. We cannot have our people living in fear. Of course, we will send a squad with you.”

Shad, ever the curious scholar, spoke up, “With an outfit of soldiers to accompany us, perhaps this would be the perfect opportunity for Zelda and me to visit Ordon Village, as you suggested, Your Worship. There is a Spirit Spring there that I've been hoping to research in depth for my dissertation.”

Bo nodded enthusiastically at the show of support. “We would be honored to host you, Your Highness,”—he bowed to Zelda and nodded his head at Shad—“and you, My Lord.”

“I… I… d-don’t…” Zelda’s heart pounded loudly in her ears. “I can’t…”

“Zelda, you don’t need to concern yourself with this matter if you do not wish to.” Daltus studied her with a concerned, but understanding look. “Shad could accompany the expedition alone.”

After her mother’s untimely demise, Zelda had never again been able to bring herself to visit Link at his home, as it meant traveling through the dense forest of Faron. There had also never been a reason to, since his family had their own suite of rooms at the castle, and  spent considerable time attending court functions throughout the year.  To this day, the thought of venturing into copses of trees was enough to nearly immobilize her with fear.

She still, on occasion, had nightmares about walking in the woods with her mother and being attacked by a pack of wolves. More times than not, the strange wolf  she had encountered in the garden years ago always stood at a distance, observing, but not participating in the bloodshed. 

How could she possibly go now, when she’d never seen fit, nor had the courage to do so when Link was alive? What would he think of her choosing to visit his province with her fiancé, when one of the last things he’d expressed was his desire to one day be where Shad now stood—at her side?

Hurt and anger boiled within her that Shad had so thoughtlessly suggested they travel there without consulting her first. “I’m sorry. I’m suddenly not feeling well,” she forced out through clenched teeth, her jaw aching. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Turning on her heel, she walked briskly away. Hoping to find some solace, she headed toward one of her favorite parts of the garden—the reflective pools. At this time of day, the sun’s rays shimmered in the still water, turning them into pools of liquid gold.

Shad hurried after and lightly grabbed her upper arm, stopping her before she could enter the hedge-lined walk leading to the pools. “Zelda.”

“Leave me be, Shad.” Zelda averted her face so he wouldn’t see the tears that had begun to brim in her eyes. 

He wouldn’t be so easily swayed. Instead, he moved to stand in front of her, ducking his head to see her face more clearly. When he saw her stricken expression, his mouth hardened.

“Zelda, I have been patient with you, but this melancholy must come to an end.” 

Despite her tears, Zelda’s anger flared. She clutched the pendant her heart madly pounded against. “You have no idea what it’s like to lose someone you love dearly with every facet of your being.”

“I have every idea. Do you not think I don’t imagine the despair I’d feel if I lost you?” The hurt in his voice was like a dagger twisting in Zelda’s heart. “It has been ten years, Zelda. It is time to let him go.”

“I can’t!” she gasped. 

Shad’s face softened, and he reached to brush a tear trickling down her cheek away with the pad of his thumb. “You are a wise woman. You must know that allowing your sorrow to consume you serves neither him nor you. If he loved you as much as you think, he would want you to be happy. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life competing with a ghost. Perhaps, if you have a chance to visit Ordon Village and bid him a proper good-bye, you can finally be free from the shackles of grief. And we can move on with our lives.”

Releasing a shuddering breath, Zelda’s outburst gave way to resignation. Shad was well within his rights to ask this of her. “Please, Shad, I need time to gather my thoughts.” 

He nodded, his expression a mask of disappointment that she couldn’t instantly say yes. Without uttering another word, he released her arm and stepped back. She stared at him a moment longer before turning away and leaving him standing alone in the center of the path. 

The answer should be easy. Shad was a witty, kind, and thoughtful man. Occasionally, he lost himself in his research and shut out the rest of the world, but Zelda could understand those instances.  She easily lost herself in her thoughts or a book on occasion, when the pressure and accompanying expectation of being Hyrule's future monarch became too much to bear.

When she reached the pools, she breathed a sigh of relief that this part of the garden was relatively deserted. Zelda perched on the edge of the nearest basin and trailed her slender fingers in the cool water. Gazing at the sky, she likened the sunset to the inside of a seashell,  pink and orange brush strokes streaking along the horizon. The indecision of traveling to Faron had her thoughts drifting, like the wispy clouds above. Grief and guilt vied to dominate her heart. 

The thought of visiting Faron, where Link had spent his final days, filled her with both dread and longing. She traced the outline of the pendant, which was a constant reminder of all she’d lost.

Zelda closed her eyes and allowed herself to be enveloped in their last encounter together. His face, so alive and filled with mirth, mere inches from hers. How she longed to know what he would have looked like now. His father, Ordona, had been handsome, and his mother, Midna, was one of the most beautiful women Zelda had ever seen. Link had inherited his father’s thick, sandy hair and dark blue eyes, but he resembled his mother more in features. At fifteen, some of the boyish roundness had given way to a leaner form, accentuating his straight nose and pointed chin.

A pang of sadness tugged at her heart as she thought of the husk of the ruined estate in the mountain range of Faron. A grand sandstone mansion with two floors and two wings, surrounded by gardens and containing an arboretum where greenery flourished year round. Did any part of it still stand?

Perhaps Shad was right. Maybe, if she traveled to Faron she could finally lay the past to rest. It would give her an opportunity to visit the graves of Link and his parents. She could pay her final respects and bid him a proper good-bye. 

She shivered. The air had grown chilly. Opening her eyes, she noted the sun had dipped lower and cast long shadows across the lawn. A flash caught her notice. Movement in the white gazebo at the end of the avenue.

Without hesitation, she rose and began walking toward it, her boots crunching on the gravel path.  Focusing her gaze on the arched entrance, Zelda had no doubt that there was indeed someone lingering in the shadows of the structure. 

With each step closer, her heart beat faster, and her mind raced with thoughts. Who could it be? And why hide in the shadows, apart from the crowd, all afternoon long? From the broadness of their shoulders, she suspected a man, but their hooded cloak concealed any further details. 

 She knew what she was doing was reckless—the goddesses only knew who or what could be waiting there. But she couldn’t resist the pull of curiosity that drew her onward.

From the depths of the hooded figure’s cloak, one  piercing blue eye watched her movement with unwavering intensity. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart fluttered like a butterfly caught in a net. She’d know that color anywhere, deep as the sea and just as dark blue.

“Link?” she softly asked, hardly daring it to be true.

“Zelda!” Shad’s voice broke through her reverie, and she glanced over her shoulder to see him hurrying toward her.

Ignoring him, she turned her focus back to the gazebo, only to find that the figure had vanished. 

“No!”

She flew down the path, kicking up gravel with each pounding step in her haste to catch the phantom. Stumbling to the center of the structure, she turned in a slow circle, scanning the railings, rafters, and benches for any sign that he had just been there—mere feet away.

In the stillness, strange as it seemed, she felt his presence everywhere. 

When Shad reached her side, his breath came in short gasps. “Why did you run away from me?”

“Did you not see him?” Pressing her hand against the pendant, doubt slowly crept into Zelda’s mind.

“See who?” Shad’s face was once again etched with concern.

Zelda shook her head. After Shad’s confession regarding Link, she couldn’t possibly tell him she thought she’d just seen him. By doing so, it would prove to Shad, more than ever, that there was the shadow of a ghost lingering and keeping her from truly loving him. The faint lines on Shad’s forehead would deepen to crevasses and the guilt that she’d put those there would eat her alive. 

Besides, now that the spell had been broken, she could no longer be certain herself. Had anyone ever been standing there, or had it been a mere figment of her imagination?

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

Forsaken by Adam Hurst

“What are you doing?” Shad asked.

“Didn’t you see the cloaked guest in the gazebo just now?” Zelda’s heart pounding and rapid breaths drowned out the faint sounds of the party.

She swept her eyes across the area surrounding the gazebo. How could the mysterious stranger have disappeared in the blink of an eye? She had only looked away for a scant few seconds. Surely she would have heard their boots racing down the wooden stair, or caught a glimpse of them in her peripheral vision. 

“All I saw was you standing in the middle of the lane.” Stepping closer, Shad adjusted his glasses as he studied her face. “Are you feeling unwell? You’ve been seeing things all afternoon. Perhaps we should send for Dr. Borville.”

The skepticism in his voice cut straight through her. Brushing away a few auburn strands that had fallen from her hair clip, Zelda was unable to hide her frustration when she spoke. “I don’t need to see a doctor. I’m not imagining things, Shad.” She pointed to the top of the stairs. “There was someone standing there, right by that post, I’m sure of it.”

As the sun set and the moon rose, she checked behind every shrubbery, peered around each nearby statue, and pushed aside her fear to venture through a thick copse of trees. It was still and silent save the crackling of the dry brush beneath her feet. Shad stood silently to the side, watching as she knelt in the dewy grass and peered through the lattice surrounding the base of the gazebo. There was nothing to see save fluttering cobweb tendrils and dried leaves scattered in the corners.

Shad’s doubt lingered as he looked around the deserted garden. “There’s nowhere they could have gone that we wouldn’t have seen.” His eyes alighted back on Zelda. “It must have been a trick of the light.”

Rising back to her feet, Zelda brushed dirt and leaves from her skirt and turned in a slow circle. She only stopped when she met Shad’s steady gaze, and even in the pale moonlight she could see the disappointment in his pursed lips and the lines of his face. 

It would be pointless to continue to argue. He would never believe her. The weight of her responsibility to her kingdom and Shad’s request that she accompany him to Faron settled back around Zelda’s shoulders. Despite their differences in opinion on the matter, she graciously took the arm he offered her without further comment, and they walked back toward the castle.

By the time they reached the central fountain, the party was winding down and the guests were beginning to disperse. She glanced over at Shad. The time she’d spent fruitlessly searching for the enigmatic figure had kept him from enjoying the remainder of the festivities. Guilt churned in her stomach, turning it sour.

Selfishly, Zelda had ruined a day that had been meant to celebrate their future happiness. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Covering her hand resting on his arm with his, Shad gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know.”

They continued into the castle and walked the corridors to Zelda’s suite in silence. The only time they spoke was to acknowledge servants who bid them good evening as they passed. When they reached her door, Zelda turned to face him.

Shad took both her hands, his palms warms against her cool fingers. “Will you please consider traveling to Ordon Village with me? I truly think it would be cathartic for you.”

Zelda sighed heavily. The thought of visiting Link's boyhood village made her chest tighten. “I will reflect upon it more this evening and give you my answer tomorrow.”

He stiffly nodded, his disappointment lingering in the air between them. His hazel eyes searched hers for some sign that she would actually consider it.

“I promise,” Zelda amended in an attempt to fill the rift the subject had formed between them. “I will give it serious thought.”

The small smile Shad gave her told her it had been enough. “That’s all I ask.” Leaning in, he kissed her, pressing dry lips against her forehead. “Sleep well, my darling.”

“And you.” With a final squeeze, Zelda released his hands and watched him walk down the corridor to his own suite of rooms. It was only after he disappeared around a corner that she pushed the heavy wooden door to her chambers open.

A fire crackled in the hearth, to ward off the chill in the air the approaching winter brought with it. The dark blue duvet of her large, canopied bed had been turned down, revealing soft white cotton sheets. The Royal crest ornately carved in the center of the headboard, was a constant reminder of who she was and what was expected of her. 

Zelda sank onto the cushioned stool at the vanity with a sigh, the mirror framed with carved mahogany capturing her face. Wide, sky blue eyes, rimmed red from crying, stared back at her. The flickering candlelight caught the copper highlights of her auburn hair but did little to warm her. She hated thinking of Shad watching the spectacle, saying nothing, as she made a fool of herself searching for a phantom in the shadows.

Pushing that thought aside, her fingers moved automatically to unwind the ribbons from the braids framing her face as she studied her reflection. She placed them and the gold barrette holding her hair back on the marble top. Zelda threaded her fingers through her long tresses, working out the worst of the knots, before picking up her mother’s silver hairbrush. With each stroke of the brush, she contemplated the events of the day, beginning to doubt herself. If there had been someone in the gazebo, it certainly couldn’t have been Link. He would have sought her out long before now. It was wishful thinking on her part to imagine he had returned from the dead. All she had were the necklace, a few letters, and faded memories.

Laying the brush aside, Zelda opened the bottom drawer of the vanity and pulled out a floral box. Stowed safely inside was all that was left of her friendship with Link. A stack of letters, neatly tied with a blue satin ribbon, lay within. Zelda drew in a deep breath, untied the neat bow and lifted the letter sitting on top. She opened it carefully—the tears along the creases and feathery edges of paper worn thin, hinted at years of handling.

His very last letter to her. How many times had she'd read it, wondering where and when he had written it?

Zelda laid it on the vanity and carefully flattened it out, running her fingers lightly over the loopy script that covered the page. It had been delivered just a few days after the wretched news of Link’s death. At first, she'd harbored the hope it would inform her he was alive and well. Surely, even if, for whatever reason, he couldn’t see her, he would have written to let her know he’d survived. But it had not. It had only been the last letter from a boy without a care in the world, save one—that one day she'd visit him again.

A deep, familiar ache settled in Zelda’s chest as the letter transported her back to a time when Link’s presence in her life was as certain as the sunrise. The memento box had been another of the games that began as their friendship blossomed. Not long after they’d become friends, Link gave her a round metal box with an intricate mother-of-pearl mosaic inlay. Nestled in the velvet lining was a broken piece of quartz he’d found while hiking in the Faron foothills with his father. The stone had been rough and gray on the outside, but pale lavender crystals sparkled within it. She’d been touched Link had remembered her favorite color. 

The next time he visited, she’d placed a bright blue feather in the box and hidden it in his trunk before he returned home. And thus the game of filling the box with treasures had begun. By the time she’d placed the handkerchief, it had been nearly full. They would soon have had to either end the game or find a larger box to use.

Of course, she had never seen the last item he’d placed in their memento box. Both had been lost in the fire. What could he have made for her that he thought would allow her to overcome her fear? 

She folded the letter with care, placed it on top of the others, and set the box aside. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears, and Zelda swallowed thickly. Why couldn’t she let him go? Shad was correct that more than enough time had passed. So often she found herself lost in memories of happier times, when the promise of her future had seemed impossibly bright. It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet in moments such as this, it felt as fresh as if she’d just been informed Link died yesterday.

Her hand went to the pendant that always lay against her heart, a constant reminder of what she’d lost. Tugging on the silver chain, Zelda pulled it from beneath her bodice. Holding the glittering amethyst stone in the palm of her hand, just as Link had done when he presented it to her, Zelda studied its facets. The stone glowed with an internal flame Link hadn’t been able to explain, other than to say his mother referred to it as a guiding light. 

Zelda sighed and rose from the vanity. Her feet sank in the thick carpet as she crossed the room to her balcony. She opened the doors and stepped outside to search the heavens—scanning the star-studded, indigo sky until she found the five stars that formed a ‘W’. The symbol of Nayru’s wisdom, and one of the easiest constellations to find. The stars twinkled brightly, taunting her with their constant presence, even when obscured by clouds or washed out by the blazing sun. 

Stargazing had been hers and Link’s way of staying connected, and Zelda couldn’t remember the last time she brought herself to look at the night sky. She realized now, something they’d begun as another childish game would have taken on a much deeper meaning as adults. The sudden tightness in her breast was followed by anger with herself.

She couldn’t continue to live like this.

Shad was right. Link would not want her to spend the rest of her life pining for him. Just as she would want him to be happy if their roles had been reversed. It was a fruitless endeavor to spend time wondering ‘but what if’? Those thoughts served no one. It was time to take the necessary steps to move forward and let go of a ghost that haunted her thoughts and dreams. 

With shaking hands, she reached behind her neck and undid the clasp of her necklace. She held the teardrop amethyst in the palm of her hand and allowed the silver chain to dangle between her fingers. It was strange to not feel the weight of the jewel resting against her breastbone. Zelda gripped the pendant, its edges cutting into her palm just as it had done on that fateful night so long ago. It seemed like an impossible task, but she had to at least try to let him go. She'd never be able to if she continued to wear the necklace-the symbol of their love.

—

When Zelda arrived at breakfast the next morning, Shad and Daltus were already seated at one end of the long mahogany table. They sat in comfortable silence. Her father studied a ledger sitting open by his elbow, and Shad flipped through a worn book. From the yellowing of the pages, Zelda deduced it was at least a century, perhaps more, old. 

They both looked up when she entered and stood until a footman had pulled out her chair and she was seated. Shad draped a ribbon on the page he’d been perusing and closed the book, but not before Zelda caught a glimpse of a faded picture of a spring with natural stone steps leading to a waterfall.

“Good morning, my daughter,” Daltus greeted as he resettled in the high-backed chair at the head of the table. “You look refreshed.”

Zelda smiled thinly, knowing he was only being polite. The faint smudging of fatigue beneath her eyes hadn’t escaped her notice when she sat at the vanity earlier. Her maid had soaked tea leaves in two squares of cheesecloth and instructed Zelda to hold them against her eyes while her hair was being brushed and braided. It had helped, somewhat, but faint half-circles still remained.

She looked across the table at Shad. He gave her a small smile, but his eyes still reflected the worry that seemed to have made its home there. “Did you sleep, Zelda?”

“I did.” It wasn’t a lie, but she'd been tormented by dreams of chasing the specter through a forest under a cloak of darkness. Try as she might, she’d never been able to reach them, and had only found herself hopelessly lost. When the tree trunks began closing in around her, and glowing eyes peered out from the shadows, she’d awoken at dawn with a silent scream caught in her throat. Even if she’d wanted to try to fall back asleep, Zelda knew it would have eluded her. 

“I was just looking over the recommendations from the head of the guard regarding the issue plaguing Ordon Village. Preparations are already underway," Daltus said, tapping a quill against the parchment containing Captain Ashei's elegant script. The royal seal, stamped in red wax at the bottom, indicated Daltus had approved the order. "She's mapped out detailed plans for Ordon's town protector to review and enact. The armory has been working through the night, forging new arrowheads and sharpening blades. The expedition should be ready to return with Mayor Bo by tomorrow's first light.”

Trading the quill for a knife, Daltus smeared wildberry jam on his toast; the edge of the knife scraping over the rough service grated on Zelda's already frayed nerves.

“So soon?” Zelda looked between her father and Shad. While she had assured Shad she’d give him her answer about traveling with him this morning, she’d hoped she’d have more time to mentally prepare. 

Daltus chewed and swallowed the bite of toast he’d just taken before answering. “As you heard from Mayor Bo yesterday, time is of the essence. And the sooner we take care of the matter, the sooner the people of Ordon Village can rest easy knowing their livestock are safe.”

Zelda understood being paralyzed by fear, and hated to think the children of Ordona were frightened of the unknown lurking in the surrounding woods. She reached for the porcelain teapot sitting in the center of the table and poured herself a cup of steaming tea, hoping it would help fortify her resolve.

Daltus studied her. Despite her best efforts to hide her uncertainty, her father knew her too well. His regal demeanor softened into paternal concern for her well-being. “I understand this is a difficult decision for you, Zelda, but your presence would be invaluable. It would lift the people’s spirits if they saw how much their future queen cared for them.”

“Researching and studying is an interest I know we both share. It would be an excellent opportunity to bring us closer together, as well,” Shad interjected, looking at her with hope-filled eyes. 

Zelda cupped her hands tightly around the teacup to keep their shaking from spilling the liquid. To buy herself a moment more of time, she took a delicate sip of the tea. She'd forgotten to add sugar, and it tasted bitter on her tongue, but the familiar scent of amoranth helped still her fluttering heart and calm her mind. Her father’s expectations and Shad’s earnestness to make their relationship work were warranted. It would be easy enough to please them both by agreeing to travel to Ordona Province, deep in the heart of Faron. She owed it to herself to make a concerted effort to live in the present and could no longer put off the inevitable. Even if it still felt as if her world had come crashing to an end all those years ago, the truth of the matter was, it still revolved around her. Shad, level-headed and logical as always, was once again correct in that regard. She had a duty to herself and her kingdom to forge ahead.

“I agree with both of you," Zelda said, her voice far steadier than her hands gripping her teacup. "It's time I face the challenges presented to me. Visiting Ordon will surely help me forge a new path.” Speaking it aloud made her decision a reality, crystallizing her commitment like frost on a windowpane. Zelda straightened her shoulders, feeling the absence of the pendant beneath the silk of her morning dress. “It is time for me to look to the future and fully embrace my role as Hyrule’s sovereign.”

The way Shad’s face lit up at her words cut her to the quick. Once again, Zelda knew she didn’t deserve his unwavering support and devotion. Daltus nodded his head approvingly, his face expressing deep pride.

“A wise decision, my daughter. Your presence will bring hope to the villagers.”

—

“It means everything to me that you’ve chosen to accompany me and assist with my research.” Shad turned to Zelda from where he’d been overseeing their luggage being carefully loaded into a wagon. The early morning sun glinted off his glasses, highlighting the glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he expressed his gratitude. “Thank you, Zelda, for making a concerted effort, not only for me but for your kingdom.”

A contingent of knights in shining armor were already mounted on their war horses and stood waiting at the castle gates. The courtyard was alive with rhythmic clanking of metal, the eager pawing of the horses’ hooves on the smooth cobblestones, and servants, rushing to and fro, barking orders at each other. Above it all, Mayor Bo’s jovial voice carried as he thanked Daltus for taking such swift action on the behalf of Ordon Village.

Reaching into the pocket of her skirt, Zelda curled her fingers around the pendant she’d placed there before leaving. She turned to Shad and smiled. “Of course.” 

He wore the same fervent expression he’d had the day they met. It had been easy to lay thoughts of her past aside while at university—she didn’t have a shared history with a ghost there to haunt her. Meeting his gaze, she saw only warmth and understanding there. She knew he wanted nothing more than for her to be happy. So, perhaps escaping the castle and the walls filled with memories that closed in on her with each passing day was exactly what they needed. 

A black carriage trimmed with gold filigree and drawn by four white stallions thundered into the courtyard. The gold ribbons braided in the horses’ manes and tails shone in the sunlight. Royal flags emblazoned with the kingdom’s crest fluttered from the roof, and silk caparisons bearing the same emblem were draped over the horses' flanks. 

As it came to a stop before them, a footman clad in a black tailcoat with gleaming silver buttons, opened the door and bowed, offering Zelda his white-gloved hand. Gathering her dove-gray woolen skirt, she stepped up into the carriage. Shad followed to settle beside her on the cushioned bench. The carriage tilted ever-so-slightly, the springs groaning in protest, as Bo, with some effort, hefted his portly frame into the cab to sit opposite of them. The interior, lined with silk the color of crimson roses and decorated with golden accents and intricate carvings of Hyrule's mythical beasts, was just as opulent as the exterior. 

With a muffled thunk, the footman shut the door behind them, and they were soon underway. They swayed to and fro under the motion of the wheels rattling over the uneven cobblestone avenue. It wasn’t until they passed the castle walls and reached the packed dirt road beyond that the ride evened out and they were able to sink into their seats and relax. Zelda looked out the window to watch the placid view of Hyrule field roll past the windows.

The trip to Ordon Village wasn’t a short one, and the road stretching ahead of them seemed endless. As they passed over the flat plains, Zelda continued to stare out the window, her thoughts drifting along until the monotony of the heather blurred before her. The plains gave way to gently rolling hills as they drew closer to Faron Woods. She leaned her head against the cool glass to catch a glimpse of the dark silhouette of trees looming in the distance. Shad, on the other hand, held no such interest in idly watching the passing scenery and was already pouring over the book he’d been studying at yesterday's breakfast. He scribbled notes in the margins, determined to learn all he could about the spring before they arrived. Bo, his head propped against the back of his cushioned seat, was already dozing.

She found herself lost in her thoughts as Bo’s snores and the soft scrape of Shad’s quill, mixed with the rumble of the wheels beneath them, filled the cabin. Link had described the forest as an inviting place, teeming with wildlife, and where ancient magic buzzed in the air like bees in a field of flowers. He claimed that in the winter, when the tree limbs bowed beneath the weight of snow, a quiet peace fell over the forest unlike anything she’d ever experienced within the castle walls. He’d always hoped she’d overcome her fear one day and travel back with his family once again to experience it for herself. Then, she’d been a naïve child who foolishly thought she had all the time in the world to grant him that simple wish.  

Looking at the dense forest now, it was difficult to fathom that this was the same place he had painted for her in such vivid detail. Once more, guilt washed over her. Guilt for not making the effort to visit while Link was still alive, and guilt for not being able to fully give herself to the man now seated beside her. There was no escaping these feelings of regret and remorse, no matter which way she turned.

She glanced over at Shad, still engrossed in his book and notes, his mind, no doubt, already contemplating what he may discover in the ruins of the spring. He absentmindedly adjusted his glasses, having slipped down the bridge of his nose, back into place. When he caught her staring, he placed the quill on the page and gave her a half smile.

“Are you alright, Zelda?” He squinted, studying her, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes deepening.

“Yes. I was just wondering if you have stumbled upon anything?” She nodded her head toward the book in his lap.

His half smile transformed into a grin at her question and apparent interest in his research. “I have indeed, my darling. Let me tell you of an ancient tale about a spirit that shared the same first name as the dearly departed Duke Ordona, who once inhabited the very spring we will be visiting.”

Bo shifted in his sleep, their quiet murmuring not enough to wake him, but still registering in his dreams. As Shad spoke of Ordon's history and what he hoped to find in the ruins, Zelda’s gaze strayed once more to the window and the forest that drew closer with each passing second. 

What Zelda hoped she’d find there; she was not yet certain.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

Song: Hidden Village (Twilight Princess) by L’Orchestra Cinematique

Night had fallen and the moon was barely visible through the dense forest by the time they reached Ordon Village. As they drew closer, Zelda found herself leaning forward to peer ahead. The forest gave way to the open road, and when she pressed her forehead against the cool window, she could make out a square gateway made of rough cut logs. Bo awakened with a snort when the carriage wheels hit the uneven boards of a cattle grid before the main thoroughfare. He smoothed out his mustache and straightened the silk vest that had ridden up his rotund belly while he slept.

“Welcome to Ordon Village!” His voice filled the enclosed space and his mustache quivered above his broad grin. 

The carriage rumbled along the road, passing darkened homes and closed shops. Flickering gas lamps illuminated the occasional patch of pavement, offering glimpses of flower boxes and quaint façades.

At the end of the lane, they pulled to a stop in front of a modest-sized manor with a circular gravel drive. When the driver opened the carriage door, Zelda shivered when frigid mountain rushed in. It was considerably colder here than in Castle Town. Pulling her wool cloak closer about her, she took the driver’s hand and stepped out of the cab. 

Through the home’s foggy bay window a fire blazed in a stone fireplace, and Zelda was eager to escape the chill. A shadow passed the room’s wide entryway, and the door opened, revealing a young woman around Zelda’s age. A plain cream tunic and brown leggings covered her petite figure. Her bright green eyes, framed by sandy blonde hair, widened when she saw Zelda, and she gracefully curtsied. 

"Princess Zelda." Her voice had a soft, musical quality, clear as a morning bell.

The carriage creaked as Mayor Bo stepped out, and his voice was tinged with unmistakable pride when he spoke. “Princess Zelda, allow me to introduce you to my lovely daughter, Ilia.”

Ilia rose from her bow, and Zelda tried to smooth her features of the look that surely must accompany her shock. By her common attire, Zelda had assumed Ilia was a maid of the house and not its mistress. Link had mentioned Ilia once or twice before, referring to her as an odd little bird. From his retelling, Zelda knew that as a child Ilia had spent the summers exploring the neighboring woods and wading in streams barefoot. She preferred the stables and fully embraced a simple, country life. 

Tucking a lock of her sensibly short hair behind a round ear, she smiled warmly. “Your Highness, it’s an honor to greet you.” 

“The pleasure is mine," Zelda replied, shifting her gaze behind when Shad hopped out of the cab with a satisfied grunt.

His arms were loaded down with a few books that refused to fit in the leather satchel slung over his shoulder. “It feels good to stretch one’s legs after that long journey, does it not?” he remarked to no one in particular.

Ilia covered her mouth to stifle a giggle and Zelda couldn't help but laugh, as well. "Shad, dear, let me hold some of those." She took a few of the books off the pile with a shake of her head.

“Ilia, this is Princess Zelda’s fiancé, Lord Shad. Lord Shad, my daughter, Ilia.” Bo waved his hand between them, and his smile broadened. “Ilia, Lord Shad is studying our ancient history. I told him you hold a similar interest in folktales, as well.”

Shad shifted the remaining books to his other arm and bowed his head. “Happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Ilia.”

Ilia’s cheeks flushed prettily, and she ducked her head shyly. “Mine as well, Lord Shad.” 

She stepped to the side so they could enter the home while Mayor Bo oversaw the unloading of luggage. He gave directions to the driver of the wagon and soldiers to the ranch where they would be lodging. Zelda’s chambermaid and Shad’s valet exited the covered wagon before it pulled away and assisted Bo with the trunks.

Inside the small foyer, Ilia led them past an ornately carved grandfather clock with a rose face, and down a short set of stairs into the cozy sitting room Zelda had seen from outside. 

“Please make yourselves at home while I fetch tea and sandwiches.” She gestured toward a seating area in front the fireplace before heading toward a swinging door at the end of the wood-paneled hall. 

Shad set the books in his arms on a table by the door and his satchel on the floor before helping Zelda out of her travelling cloak. While he hung it on a coat rack in the corner and shrugged off his own overcoat, Zelda placed the books she'd relived him of on top of the pile and went to stand before the crackling fire. 

Crossing her arms, she gazed into the flames. The brief moment of levity outside melted into trepidation. They had travelled here in order for her to fully lay her past to rest. Loath as she was to do so, they would need to visit the cemetery. She slipped her hand in the pocket of her skirt, where the weight of the necklace rested. She’d already decided to leave it as a gift at Link’s crypt in his family’s mausoleum. There, she could offer up her final farewell, and move on with her new life with Shad. 

Shad, who called her my dearest and my darling. Who bended to her every whim trying to make her happy. He was offering her everything she could ever wish for. She'd be a fool not to embrace it fully.

He cleared his throat softly, breaking into her reverie. “Rupee for your thoughts, Zelda?”

She shook her head. This was the perfect example of why she needed to let go. Turning away from the fire, she pushed the melancholy aside and smiled. “Just thinking of what tomorrow will bring.”

“Perhaps we should explore the village?” Shad suggested, moving to stand by her side in front of the fire. He rubbed his hands together and held them out towards the warmth. 

“That’s a good idea. I would like to find a flower vendor. Do you suppose a village this size would have one?” 

“We do.” Ilia appeared in the doorway, bearing a tray containing a tea setting and a plate of sandwiches. She set the tray on the table in front of the settee and began pouring the tea. The soothing aroma of chamomille wafted from the steam rising from the cups. With the late hour, it was the perfect choice.

Zelda thanked her as Ilia handed her a saucer. She settled on the couch beside Shad and glanced his way. “Perfect. I'd like to buy an arrangement and pay my respects to the Duke and his family while I’m here. Their son was a close friend.” Her throat constricted with those final words, and Zelda took a sip of the tea. She welcomed the soothing floral liquid on her tongue and throat.

“Of course! I should have realized you would want to visit the cemetery.” Ilia offered them each a sandwich. “Link always spoke of you fondly.”

“As he did you.” Zelda smiled when Ilia’s eyes widened. “He often spoke of your love of the outdoors and nature.”

Shad shifted on the seat beside her and busied himself accepting a sandwich from Ilia. Setting her teacup in its saucer, Zelda placed it on the table and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She was here to try to make their relationship work, and not dwell on her past. “Shad would very much like to see the Spring of Light while we are here, as well.”

Ilia’s smile grew at the mention of the spring. The shift in conversation towards Shad’s interests had the desired effect. He relaxed beside her and dove into asking Ilia questions about the spring’s origins and the tales surrounding it. 

“It is said the spring holds healing power,” Ilia began. “Many have taken pilgrimages from neighboring regions and even abroad to visit. They hope that by soaking in the warm water, or standing beneath the falls what ails them—whether mentally or physically—will be miraculously washed away.”

Shad opened his leather-bound notebook and began taking notes as she continued to share the history behind the spring. 

Zelda’s mind drifted once again until their voices blended into the background. Memories of happier times flooded through her. The mischievous glint in Link’s eyes when he incessantly teased her, the warmth of his hand in hers, their laughter echoing in the palace halls. She couldn’t shake the emptiness that lingered in her heart, but there could be happy times in her future, if she would allow them. Perhaps, as Ilia alluded, if Zelda visited the spring, its waters would soothe her troubled soul.

She finished her sandwich and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin. Shad's plate remained untouched, as he'd lost himself in the conversation with Ilia. Sipping her now cool tea, their hushed voices were a pleasant buzz above the crackling fire. Its warmth and food and tea had done wonders to ease the tension in her neck and shoulders. It was only when Zelda stifled a yawn, that she drew their attention.

“Oh, my apologies," Ilia said, setting down her plate. "You must be tired after such a long day. Would you like me to show you to your chambers now, Your Highness?” Ilia asked.

Setting her empty cup on the table, Zelda realized the day’s travel was slowly catching up with and she was exhausted. “Yes, thank you. Shad?” 

He looked up from his book, marking the spot where he’d left off with his forefinger. “I'm not quite ready to retire. I would like to pick Miss Ilia’s brain a bit more.” He looked to where Ilia now stood in the arched doorway. “If that is alright with you?”

“Of course, My Lord.” She nodded her head, her lips curling into a pretty smile. Zelda would have thought the smile was for Shad alone, but it didn’t drop from Ilia’s face when she turned back to her.

Shad rose from his seat when Zelda stood and gently took her elbow. Leaning in, he gave her a kiss on her cheek. "Sleep well, my darling."

"And you, Shad." She left him to peruse one of the books he’d brought with him, and followed Ilia out to the foyer. The clock struck the eleventh hour as they walked up a short flight of stairs.

Ilia led her down a hallway dimly lit by sconces along the walls and stopped at the end in front of a carved door. A double bed, covered in a thick quilt stood at an angle in the corner of the cozy room. A vanity with a mottled mirror sat against the wall on one side, and a tall wardrobe painted with faded scenes of fairies in a wooded glen dominated the wall on the other. The room held an air of whimsy that made her feel as if she’d just stepped into the pages of a storybook cottage.

“I hope this will suit your needs, Your Highness,” Ilia remarked. The worry line that formed between her delicate brows indicated she was taking Zelda’s silence as judgment.

“Yes, this is lovely. I shall be very comfortable here. Thank you, Ilia.” Dark oak beams lined the ceiling, and Zelda followed the border of twisted vines and roses that ran around the room. If she wasn’t already a princess, this room would surely make her feel like one.

Ilia nodded, and her expression relaxed into a pensive smile. “I thought you’d like to know I wasn’t lying when I said Link spoke of you often. He always said you would love this room if you were ever to visit Ordon Village.” 

Zelda’s heart stuttered in her chest at the revelation, and words failed her. Thankfully, Bo’s deep voice resonating from the foyer below saved her from having to respond. With a glance toward the stairs, Ilia stepped back to the center of the hallway.

“Lord Shad’s room is directly across the hall from yours.” Ilia gave her a small curtsy before taking her leave. “I’ll see that your chambermaid and luggage find their way here, Princess.” 

Alone in the quaint bedroom, Zelda crossed to the window, drawn by the moonlight filtering through the glass and the view of the forest beyond. She traced a circular design, reminiscent of a goat's horns at the center of the beveled glass casement with her fingers. The lead was cold against her warm fingertips.

Undoing the latch, she pushed it open and leaned on the wide windowsill to gain a clearer view of the garden below. The ground was dried and cracked, but a few hardier herbs still flourished in well-tended beds. Beyond the fenced-in yard, a gravel path curved toward a church. Its steeple, topped with the Hylian crest, was a dark outline against the ebony sky. She could just make out a few grave markers and a larger mausoleum adjacent to the building. A thick forest, its trees indistinguishable in the night, cut a dark, jagged line across the horizon

Zelda turned away from the sight with a heavy sigh and sat on the edge of the bed. The soft feather mattress sunk beneath her weight, promising her a comfortable night’s slumber if her restless mind would allow it. As was her nightly ritual, she gazed in the vanity mirror. Unpinning the barrette holding her hair back, she ran her fingers through the long auburn locks. 

Her mind wandered, thinking of what tomorrow would bring, when soft scratching from the open window caught her attention. Looking past her shoulder in the mirror, her reflection blurred. A shadow lighter than the night sky beyond it sat crouched on the windowsill, claws scraping against the wood.

Zelda's blood froze in her veins. It was larger, no longer a pup, but she'd recognize it anywhere. A luminous blue eye she hadn’t seen since that fateful day in the castle gardens all those years ago gazed back at her with a feral intelligence. The other, just as milky, and unseeing as it had been before.

The strange wolf.

If she hadn't been paralyzed with fear, Zelda would have bolted from the room. Instead, she clutched the barrette until her knuckles were white and the lacquered edge cut into her palm. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she sucked in a breath.

The wolf bared its teeth, revealing gleaming white canines. Zelda's tongue scraped the roof of her mouth as she tried to find her voice to scream for help. All she managed was a desperate whimper. "Go away!"

Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the unwanted beast back to wherever it came from. All she could hear was the pounding of her pulse in her ears. She sat there, her heart rattling in her ribcage, and pressed her fingers to her temples. The ghostly blue eye was seared in her memory, and she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to ground herself in reality.

The coppery taste of blood brought her back to her senses. After slowly counting to five, she forced herself to crack her eyes open.

The windowsill was empty. Staggering to her feet, Zelda rushed to the window and peered down into the garden. Nothing disturbed the empty beds or lurked in the shadows that bled from the fence-posts and herb clumps. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she closed the window with shaking hands and securely locked it.

It was just her imagination. A trick of the light. The fatigue of the long trip and anxiety of being in a place surrounded by dense forests stirring up her deep-seated fear. She’d feel better in the light of day after a good night’s rest.

—

The next morning broke cold and dreary, with steel gray clouds hanging low in the sky. As Zelda stepped outside after breakfast, she shivered and stuffed her hands deeper inside her red muff. A damp chill hung in the air and instantly settled into her bones. The sudden change in weather hinted that winter was fast approaching.  

Zelda stifled a yawn the unexpected cold teased from her. If nothing else, the brisk air would help her remain alert. Despite the comfortable bed, she had tossed and turned all the previous night. Worry had gnawed at her, even after she had jumped up and locked the window. She'd spent a large portion of the night convincing herself the vision had been her imagination.

Ilia stepping out beside Zelda put an end to her ruminations, and gestured toward the lane. “I thought you might want to stop by the ranch before we head into the village proper, Your Highness. My father left earlier this morning to begin the investigation, and he mentioned you want to be privy to anything they discover. It’s not far.”

“Brilliant idea, Miss Ilia,” Shad said, joining them on the stoop and rubbing his hands together to ward off the frigidness. His eyes eagerly scanned their surroundings, taking in the frost-covered trees and rolling green hills stretched before them. “It was difficult to see much last night, but this is a beautiful landscape. I’m looking forward to our stroll and seeing more of the sights.”

As they set off, other than their feet crunching on the gravel path, the surrounding forest was still and quiet. The hairs on the back of Zelda’s neck rose as they entered a tunnel of trees leading away from the home. Glancing nervously about them, she spied a guay perched on a nearby leafless branch. Its beady black eyes followed them as they passed. Beyond the nearest tree trunks, dark shadows loomed deeper within the woods, making it impossible to clearly see past the first few feet.

If there had been cause for concern, surely Ilia would not have suggested they walk to the ranch. Zelda chalked it up to her lingering nervousness. She turned her attention to listening to Shad and Ilia, who had picked up the thread of their conversation from the previous evening regarding the history of the springs throughout Hyrule. It seemed Ilia believed that the tales of magical beings inhabiting the springs were founded in truth. Shad, being the scholar he was, argued a more logical point of view and began pointing out practical reasons for the tales to originate.

When they stepped out from beneath the canopy of trees, they paused at a fork in the road. A rustic sign in the middle, painted with red arrows, indicated which direction to take toward the village and ranch. From where they stood, the mountain range was in sight. Dark storm clouds shrouded the snow-capped peaks. With the gray sky contrasting against the purple heather-covered hills, it was breathtaking, as Shad had pointed out. Zelda vaguely recalled similar views from the windows of Faron Grove Hall the one time she’d visited before her mother’s tragic death.

“I was wondering if the Duke’s estate is far from here?” she inquired. “I would like to see it, if possible.”

Ilia followed Zelda’s line of sight. Her brows knitted together, and she twisted the edge of her apron in her hands. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but that won’t be possible. It’s not far,”—her downcast expression reflected the sincerity coloring the words—“but from what I hear the damage was quite extensive. As I’m sure you know, the new Duke initially chose not to reside there due to that fact. He’s only recently had a change of heart and returned to see if anything could be salvaged. I’m sure the mansion has only fallen into further disrepair over the past ten years. The Duke will have his work cut out for him, and he hasn’t bothered to look into hiring anyone from the village to help oversee construction.”

This was news to Zelda. She hadn’t given the new Duke much thought, especially since he lived abroad. As with all social engagements, he had been included on the guest list for her engagement party, but had declined to attend. “Did you have a chance to meet the Duke while he was here?”

Ilia shook her head. “Unfortunately, I never saw him. He left word with my father via his steward that they would return in the spring. I have to wonder if their stay was brief because of the rumors.”

“What rumors are those?” Zelda asked, her curiosity piqued.

“It’s believed that the estate is haunted,” Ilia began, looking between them before continuing. “For many years after the tragedy, strange moaning could be heard from the ruins at night. The sound grated on your nerves and tore at your heart until you thought you might go mad. Or so I’ve been told. Anyone who ever explored the area in the early days claims they felt an oppressiveness weighing down upon them the closer they came to the manor. If the awful noises weren’t enough to scare looters away, the cloak of foreboding that hangs in the air surrounding the estate would. No one has dared venture near there in years.”

A shiver ran down Zelda’s spine. The idea that Link and his parents were restless spirits, cursed to remain tethered to the earth as incorporeal poes, was almost more than she could bear to imagine.  

“Surely, you do not believe such tall tales,” Shad scoffed, removing his glasses to clean the lenses with his handkerchief. When he put them back on, he scrutinized the mountain range, as if the supposed ghost would make itself known among the scrub brush and spindly trees dotting the sloping foothills.

“It doesn’t matter whether I believe them or not, Your Lordship.” Ilia shook her head, but from the doubtful look on her face, Zelda had the distinct impression the woman did think something was amiss. 

“I’m sure there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for the unearthly noises,” Shad pressed, unwilling to let Ilia’s superstitious talk of the estate go. “If the winters are as harsh as you claim, more than likely those sounds could be attributed to an animal that had taken up residence in the crumbling ruins. Sheltering from the biting winds and snow. Duke Ordona kept goats, did he not?”

“Perhaps you are correct, Lord Shad. Fado took in the late Duke’s goats and tends to them now.” Ilia’s expression had brightened at the mention of the goats, and she smiled at them both. “Let’s leave the melancholic talk and continue on. The ranch affords a marvelous view of the mountain range and valley beyond.”

“That would be excellent,” Zelda intervened, grasping at the opportunity to change the subject. Talk of the estate being haunted had caused her heart to twist painfully in her breast. Focusing on her task as the representative to the crown would keep her mind from wandering for the time being. “I would like to meet Mister Fado and personally assure him that my father will do everything in his power to put an end to the attacks.” 

As they resumed their stroll, taking the fork that led to the right, Zelda took in the vibrant heather covering the landscape. Absorbing the quiet beauty of the land covered in her favorite color helped ease the tension that had settled about her shoulders like a shroud. The path turned into a bit of an incline and a biting wind blew down from the mountains.

The ranch came into view when they crested the top of the lane and the quiet bleating of goats reached their ears. A small cabin with smoke curling from a stone chimney stood to the right of the property. Several gray and brown goats with impressive curved horns, grazed in a large paddock, cutting the dry, brown grass short with their teeth. Mayor Bo and a few of the King’s men wandered along the far edges of the property that abutted a small hill to the left. 

A burly man with close cropped brown hair exited a weathered barn. When he saw them, a smile broke out on his rugged face. He was a full head taller than them, but bowed so low when they approached, his nose nearly touched the tops of his scuffed boots.

Rising back to his full height, he looked expectantly between them with rheumy blue eyes. “Your Highness, thank you for coming to our aid.”

“Of course,” Zelda replied, stepping up to the fence to observe the goats peacefully grazing in the corral. “Have many of your livestock gone missing?”

“Yes.” Fado shoved his rough, calloused hands in the pockets of his loose slacks. As they walked toward Bo and his men, he explained the daily routine and pointed out the various animals under his care. He indicated a side wall of the barn where fresh slats had been nailed. “I’ve lost three thus far. Whatever is taking them is cunning. I’ve found sections of the barn walls chewed away and the ground dug out beneath.”

Bo turned from his inspection as they approached, his expression grim. “I'm afraid to say, the men discovered wolf tracks leading into the wooded glen up the hill. They’re following them to see if a den is nearby.”

“Wolves?” Zelda’s blood ran colder than the air rolling off the mountains. Her eyes darted from Bo to Fado and back again. Bo hadn’t mentioned suspecting wolves when he asked her father for help. Her mother’s distant cries for Zelda to run filled her ears. The vision in the window loomed in her mind's eye. She barely noticed when Shad’s expression darkened, and he touched her elbow, offering up reassurance. 

“Did you not think to mention this to us before now? We just walked along a narrow path through the woods to come here. The princess could have been in danger!”

Fado’s eyes widened at Shad’s sudden outburst. Bo intervened on his behalf, holding his hands out in a placating fashion. “I assure you, my lord, it’s a new wrinkle in the issue that has just made itself known today. Several of the men are following the tracks as we speak, hoping they will lead to their den.”

“They keep to the shadows of the forest during the day, avoiding the main roads, and only prowl at night,” Fado added, his face still a mask of worry.

As he spoke, one of the guardsmen joined them. His expression was grim as he nodded to them all. “Your Highness, Mayor, the trail ran cold in the woods, but we found evidence of a larger predator prowling the perimeter of the village.”

“Do you think it’s this animal that is taking the livestock?” Fado asked.

“It’s difficult to say without more evidence to go by.” The captain rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. “We will post round the clock guards and patrol the outskirts of the village to ensure the safety of the residents and yours, Princess.”

“I’ll reinforce the curfew and warn that no one should be out alone either during the day or night without a proper weapon,” Bo assured, and looked to Zelda. “The village protector, Rusl and his family will be joining us for supper this evening. He knows these woods and the animals that call it their home like the back of his hand. We’ll seek his counsel on this matter.”

Zelda nodded, but the mere mention of an unseen predator sent slivers of ice cascading down her spine, that had little to do with the biting wind blowing in off the surrounding mountain range. Her mind raced with thoughts of the other dangers lurking in the woods, where wolves prowled. Was it mere coincidence that the tale Ilia had spun earlier recounted eerie noises emanating from the desolate ruins of Faron Grove Hall? It lay nestled somewhere in the hills beyond Ordon Village. 

Her mind snapped back to the previous evening—the massive shadow filling her window, its sharp claws scratching at the sill. What if that blazing blue stare hadn’t been a trick of the light as she'd convinced herself? What if, at this very moment, it was watching them, waiting for darkness to fall?

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

True Love's Last Kiss by Eternal Eclipse

The captain of the guard assigned two soldiers to accompany them back to the village. As they made their way toward the village, Zelda had the uncanny feeling that they were being watched, just as she’d experienced at the garden party. However, every time she glanced at the forest on either side of the road, she didn't see anything other than an occasional squirrel rummaging at the base of a tree, or a guay perched in a branch, ruffling its blue-black feathers. The next time she looked, she caught a glimpse of a doe further back, nearly hidden by the shadows. The animal’s graceful body froze when their eyes met, and only her elegant head followed Zelda as she passed. 

The sight of the deer calmed Zelda’s heart, which had been making itself known with a rapid thumping since it had been revealed that they may be dealing with something more sinister than an ordinary wolf pack. Any number of wolves no longer afraid of human settlements was threat enough. Her ears rang with her mother’s screams and the shouts from the guards who had arrived too late to save her. They’d scoured the forest for hours until they found Zelda cowering in a thorn bush, covered in scratches, too afraid to emerge from her hiding place. Zelda closed her eyes and tried to send the memory of that day back to the dark corner of her mind. 

If a deer wasn’t running away in a panic, then surely whatever was plaguing the village wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity. Once the blood had ceased pounding in her ears, she felt more at ease and breathed a silent sigh of relief. 

Not silent enough. Shad looked over at her, his face a study in worry. She smiled, hoping it would ease his mind. “I’m all right, Shad.”

“Are you certain?” he asked. “It’s still early enough for us to leave. We could be back at the castle by nightfall.”

“I’m certain,” she stated firmly, willing her answer to be true. “We came here for more than just the missing cattle. We must stay at least one or two days more so I may pay my respects and you can visit the Shrine of Light. Our trip will have been wasted, otherwise.”

“Rusl is a very good tracker. Now that we know what we may be up against, I’m sure it will be resolved swiftly,” Ilia assured them both.

“Let us hope so.” Shad brushed a stray lock of hair off his wide forehead. “I suppose we will be safe enough in the village proper?”

“Yes, and Lord Shad, there is a rare antiquities shop that you might find interesting,” Ilia said as they reached the fork in the road and headed into the village. 

Shad brightened at the prospect of an afternoon lost among the stacks of a musty store. “You don’t say!” 

A hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips, and a rosy flush crept up his pale cheeks when Zelda playfully nudged him.

“You’re so predictable, Shad.” She allowed herself to laugh along with him and by the time the forest thinned out and they emerged at the edge of the small hamlet the atmosphere had lightened considerably. 

The town was even more charming in the light of day than the brief glimpses Zelda had seen the past evening. Flower boxes that she had assumed would be barren overflowed with sprigs of branches adorned with crimson berries. They were nestled in bunches of evergreens and heather harvested from the rolling hillside. Quaint, but weathered, buildings lined the cobblestone lane, and the aroma of freshly baked bread and the sound of villagers going about their daily business filled the air. 

As they approached a shop with a sign reading “Sera’s Sundries”, an orange tabby burst from the open door. It darted past them and was nearly trampled by a donkey-drawn cart trundling down the center of the street. A girl no older than ten with short brown hair ran out after it, calling for the cat to stop. The tabby paid her no mind and disappeared down a narrow alley on the opposite side of the street. 

“You darn cat!” the girl shrieked, nearly bumping into one of the guardsmen. She emitted a squeak of surprise. Her wide brown eyes traveled up his form, taking in his dark blue jacket with shining brass buttons and epaulets. 

Zelda didn’t think the girl’s eyes could widen any further, but when she saw Zelda and the sparkling jeweled tiara nestled in her hair, she was proven mistaken. The girl’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and her jaw dropped.

Ilia stepped around Zelda and Shad and placed a hand on the girl’s slim shoulder. “Beth, this is Princess Zelda and Lord Shad. They’ll be staying with us for a short time.”

“How do you do?” Beth uttered, curtsying as she did so. It sounded more like ‘howdy do’ to Zelda’s ears.

When Beth straightened Zelda smiled at her. “Very well, Beth. Thank you. Was that your cat we saw escaping just now?”

Beth's brows pulled together, and her small button nose scrunched up. “Yes. That cat is always running away! Mum’s upset. She’s afraid he’ll get lost, but he’s too quick for me to catch.”

“Cats are very good at finding their way home. I’m sure he’ll turn up when he’s hungry.” Ilia squeezed Beth’s shoulder reassuringly. “All the same, we’ll be sure to keep our eyes open for him.”

They bid Beth farewell and went on their way. As the sun rose higher and burned the early morning mist away, its warm rays reflected off the store fronts, turning the windows into sheets of bronze. As with her room at Bo’s home, it was like Zelda had stepped into a scene out of a storybook. The entire village could have been featured in any number of fairytales. Taking in the sights, it was difficult to believe there was anything lurking in the woods to be afraid of, and she felt her concerns melt away as they walked down the sidewalk. 

Despite the sunshine, a chill had settled into their bones as they explored, and they stopped at an inn at lunchtime to warm up by a fire. Zelda hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she breathed in the savory scent of pumpkin soup, and her stomach rumbled. The owner served it with thick slices of the fresh bread she smelled earlier, and Zelda hummed her appreciation when she dipped it in the soup and took her first bite. 

After finishing the hearty meal, Shad suggested he explore the cluttered antique store while Ilia and Zelda visited the flower shop. They agreed, and parted ways with him outside the inn. Zelda and Ilia strolled  down the lane until they reached a charming sign carved in the shape of a rose, swaying gently above a door. As they stepped inside, the heady mix of sweet and earthy aromas was nearly overwhelming. The store shelves and tables were a riot of colorful flowers and plants–vibrant peonies, soft lilacs, cheerful daisies, velvet roses, and more were artfully arranged in vases and baskets overflowing with greenery.

Zelda paused just inside the door, uncertain where to begin. “I’m afraid I’m out of my element. The castle staff always handles these matters, but this is something I would like to do on my own.”

“I imagine it’s a difficult decision,” Ilia answered, turning from where she’d been examining a steel bucket filled with yellow chrysanthemums. “I can help you select flowers that will dry well, if you like.”

“Yes, please.” Zelda welcomed the advice, and Ilia’s calm demeanor helped ease the melancholy the task stirred up within her. With Ilia’s help she finally settled on globe amaranth, strawflower, and yarrow-flowers that would hold their vibrant colors of purple, pink and orange even after they dried. The florist wrapped twine around the bundle several times before tying it off into a bow.

Shad was waiting for them when they exited the shop. He offered her a sheepish grin when Zelda raised an eyebrow at the armload of books he was holding. 

“Here, Lord Shad,”—Ilia reached to take some of the books off his hands —“allow me to help you carry these.”

“There were simply too many rare finds to choose from,” he said, chuckling as he shifted the books in his arms and gratefully handed them over.

“So it would seem.” Zelda smiled at him as they headed back to the manor. He had been growing restless at the castle, going about the daily routine of the court, and was in his element here. His hoped to become a published author one day. She was sure he must be eager to explore the spring and add informed observations to include in his dissertation.

When she’d decided to approach him and ask if he’d consider courting her, she’d had to track him down to a small island in the middle of Lake Hylia. Apparently, a wizened hermit was building a sky canon, with the intent of exploring the islands that hovered far above. Shad’s late father had dreamed of one day traveling there to learn more about the fabled Oocca, creatures who once inhabited the City in the Sky.

She supposed once they were wed and settled, he may decide he needed to travel again. He loved to get his hands dirty, excavating rare treasures, discovering long lost relics among the ruins scattered across Hyrule. His eyes sparkled with enchantment whenever he delved into discussions relating to ancient civilizations and lost culture. He looked upon her in much the same way, and Zelda couldn’t help but wonder if he viewed her as yet another challenging puzzle that needed to be solved.

The sun was beginning its slow descent by the time they reached the manor. The lamps on either side of the front door were lit, as well as those along the path leading to the church. However, there was still enough light left in the day that they could visit the cemetery before dusk, when wolves were known to prowl.

They stopped inside briefly to drop off their parcels before continuing on. In the sitting room, a warm fire crackled in the hearth, and Zelda found herself longing to sink into one of the plush chairs and put off the inevitable for awhile longer.

A gentle pressure to her elbow pulled her from her thoughts. “Are you ready?” Shad asked, his eyes portraits of empathy behind his glasses.

A knot formed in her throat. "Yes," she lied.

Ilia led them down the hallway and out a back door, and they headed up the path in silence. Smoke curled from the chimney of a small stone shack that sat just within the entrance to the well-tended graveyard. Ilia called out hello and rapped on a wooden door with rusty iron hinges. Mumbling accompanied shuffling feet. The creaking door swung outward to reveal a stooped old man. Black eyes peered out at them from beneath bushy gray eyebrows that reminded Zelda of two fuzzy caterpillars. 

“Yes?” He sniffed, wiping his bulbous nose with a dirty handkerchief.

“Dampé, this is her Royal Highness, Princess Zelda and her fiancé, Lord Shad.” Ilia’s tone hinted that he should show the proper respect to the nobility standing in front of him.

Instead, he made a loud hawking sound into his handkerchief. Shad’s nose wrinkled in mild disdain, but Zelda covered her mouth to conceal the giggle that threatened to escape her. 

“We were hoping to pay our respects to the late Duke and his family,” Zelda explained once she was certain her voice wouldn’t shake with laughter.

“Oh. Gimme a second.” Dampé shoved the soiled handkerchief into his back pocket and turned to go back inside the cabin.

“Well, he’s certainly an interesting fellow!” Shad commented sotto voce.

“Indeed,” Zelda agreed, unable to keep from smiling. It felt good to find humor in such a depressing place, no matter how well kept it may be.

“My apologies, Your Highness, for his behavior,” Ilia expressed, mild worry pulling her pale eyebrows together.

“No apologies necessary,” Zelda assured her, glad to see Ilia’s face relax with her words. “I don’t stand on formality so much outside of court.”

The sound of jangling keys prefaced Dampé reappearing. He shoved the door closed behind him with a grunt. “Follow me, if you will, your… er, Worship.” He took a meandering path through the graveyard.

Shad leaned in to Zelda as they followed after the gravekeeper. “Has he mistaken you for the mayor of this village?”

“I should hope not!” Zelda replied in mock offense. 

The brief good humor slipped back into pensiveness as they approached the intricately carved stone edifice. Beyond it was an open moor giving way to dense woods. The tombstones in this section of the graveyard were much older, cracked and crumbling—elements had worn away most of the inscriptions over the years. A heavy-looking door bearing the Duke of Faron’s crest sat in a recessed archway.

Zelda’s hand tightened on the bouquet. A diagonal silver blade divided the coat of arms—to the left, Farore's green sigil, a full moon embraced by twin crescents; to the right, the red Twilight emblem, with its hypnotic spiraling core. The shield was a tribute to the union of Link’s father, Ordona Hayashi*, to his mother, Midna Twili.

Dampé inserted a thick iron skeleton key in the lock. It took several tries before the cylinder clicked and they heard the rumbling of the gears within. He yanked the iron handle, and Zelda’s heart stuttered in her chest when the door creaked open and musty air wafted out. 

Shad lightly touched her back. “Do you need moral support?”

Zelda knew she needed to be alone with her thoughts and memories. If Shad was there, she wouldn’t be able to express herself fully, should the urge to do so overtake her. She shook her head. “No, I’ll be all right. Thank you.”

“We’ll be here if you need us.” He moved from her side to converse quietly with Ilia. 

Dampé lit the torches by the door. Their flickering flames illuminated the small enclosure and helped to chase some of the gloom away. He gave Zelda a small nod as she entered, and left without further ado. The thick walls of the mausoleum blocked any ambient sound from outside, and the silence within was deafening. Zelda hated it. 

She remained rooted just inside the doorway, afraid to move further into the room. Empty brass vases sat on a shelf running at waist height around the perimeter of the building. There weren’t even dried husks of flowers left by previous visitors. She would think perhaps Dampé entered the crypt from time to time and had cleared out the old offerings, but the way the lock refused to give left her wondering. Had no one visited here since the day they were interred?

By never visiting and staying cloistered in the castle and then at university, it had been easy to pretend that Link waited for her to return. That he was busy with his own life, taking on the role of running an entire region. Now that she was here, seeing the lonely evidence, those fantasies would be permanently put to rest.

She set the flowers in the vase closest to her. They added a small ounce of color to this otherwise depressing space. The guilt that she’d never ventured here before now was crushing. She frequented her mother’s grave site. What kind of friend was she that she’d waited so long to pay respects to her dearest companion?

Pulling the necklace from her pocket, Zelda put it on one last time. She welcomed the familiar weight of the pendant against her breast. It was her most cherished item. To give it up and leave it here, to be locked behind the doors of the mausoleum, felt like a betrayal. 

As the thought crossed her mind, she became acutely aware of the gold filigree ring with a ruby gemstone encircling her ring finger. Shad had been so excited when he had given it to her, specifically pointing out the ruby, chosen because it was her favorite color. She hadn’t had the heart to correct him. 

She looked down at the amethyst teardrop pendant. Zelda’s real favorite color. A hazy image of the earnest expression when Link had given her his mother’s precious heirloom  swam in her vision. Her heart stuttered when she tried to put the image in focus. She couldn’t quite recall the exact contours of his face, only that he had resembled his mother. All she could see clear as day were his deep blue eyes, and the warmth and mischievousness that had brought them to life. How she longed to hear Link whisper the wretched nickname ‘Mouse’ in her ear once more, while those eyes twinkled with mirth. 

She’ll never forget the first time he called her by that name. She wasn’t normally so shy, but, even at the tender ages of five and six respectively, she knew he was no ordinary boy. He was special and she very much wanted to be his friend. 

Their mothers took tea in the gardens and told them to run along and play while they caught up. Link had suggested a game of hide and seek.

When he crouched to search the bushes, his green velvet breeches exposed dirty knees. “Come out, little mouse.” 

“How did you find me?” she whispered, peering at him through the leaves of a shrub with a hollowed out space inside she’d found one day while exploring the gardens. She was small enough to wiggle behind the row of bushes, back pressed flush to the garden wall as she inched along until she reached the hole in the branches. She'd been certain he'd never find her there.

His smile had widened. The apples of his round cheeks scrunched his eyes into crescent moons that shone like beacons guiding her to a friendly shore. “I hadn’t until you answered.”

Even though he couldn’t see her, Zelda had returned his smile. She’d shown him her hiding place, and they’d squeezed inside the cool recess. Knees pulled to their chests, her shyness had quickly abated, and they’d talked as if they’d known each other their entire lives. 

After that, every time they visited each other they were inseparable. He had called her adventurous, but he had been just as daring and mischievous as she was. She couldn’t help the smile that graced her lips when she recalled sneaking off to the castle kitchens with him after bedtime to steal freshly baked hand pies filled with sweet meats. They ate so many they made themselves sick, and their mothers could never understand why. 

Or spending lazy afternoons fishing in the middle of Lake Hylia, each trying to catch more fish than the other. They eventually had outgrown childish games of make-believe, but still enjoyed playing tag and hide and seek together. Link always found her, no matter how cleverly she hid.

He’d been there for her after her mother had died. Sitting beside her at the funeral, his warm, calloused fingers laced through hers, gently squeezing every time her breath hitched. Every morning, for weeks after, he brought her tea steeped the way she liked it, sweetened with honey. He never offered empty platitudes or hollow promises; his calm soothing presence said everything words could never fully convey.

Closing her eyes, she allowed the flood of memories to wash over her, willing them to be as soft and gentle as a cleansing rain. But try as she might, she found herself once again wrestling the undertow of agony; recalling the boy he had been and the man she imagined he would have become. But it wasn't meant to be.

Clutching the pendant, Zelda opened her eyes and brought the script on the wall before her back in focus. The fond memories ebbed away, leaving her with the ache of nostalgia and regret twisting like a venomous snake within her belly. Once she read the names and dates, the knowledge that Link was truly gone would become reality.

She forced herself to step closer until she stood within arm’s reach of the marbled wall. The flickering torches behind her highlighted the names etched in shimmering gold calligraphy on the smooth stone before her.

Zelda reached out with trembling fingers and traced over the familiar letters and numbers.

Link Ordona Hayashi*

1778 - 1793

Her eyes stung with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Would she ever stop feeling like she had played some part in his death? What if she had tried harder to encourage him to face his fear of the dark and extinguish the candle before closing his eyes to fall asleep? She was a wise girl, even then. If only she had told him that there was no difference between the darkness behind his eyelids and the darkness in his room. He could still be here, today, alive and well.

She pressed her palm firmly against the cold marble. But he wasn’t here. What lay behind this wretched rectangle was only the shell that had contained his indomitable spirit.

“I’ve missed you, Link,” she whispered, the words quickly swallowed up by the four walls. “I miss you. I will always miss you, but…” Zelda sucked on her cheeks to produce moisture in her suddenly dry mouth. “But, I have to try my best to let you go.” 

Shad’s and Ilia’s voices drifted through the open door, soft and unintelligible. Her new life waited for her just outside in the twilight. “Shad deserves that. I think you’d like him. He’s curious, like you were, and questions everything. You would have been friends. He’s compassionate… he’ll be a kind, loving companion.” This much she knew to be true. Whether it could become anything more was still uncertain. Perhaps by closing this door, she'd finally be able to allow herself to enter another. 

“I’m not replacing you…” She had cried what felt like buckets of tears when first told the devastating news. Some part of her had thought since so much time had passed, she would have no more tears to shed, but this was as difficult as she’d always imagined it would be. Her eyes burned with brimming tears that had nowhere to go but streaking down her cheeks. “You’ll always hold a special place in my heart. I hope, wherever you are, that you’re happy. I’m going to try to be happy. Maybe… maybe we’ll meet again in some other time and place.”

She choked back a sob, smothering it with the lace handkerchief she pulled from her pocket. The last thing she wanted was for Shad and Ilia to hear her crying. She allowed herself to weep silently for a few minutes. When the tears began to subside, she fumbled to release the latch on the necklace's clasp from around her neck. Finally, it came free and she lowered it with trembling hands. Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing it again, but it was something she must do. The tear-drop shaped amethyst, a solid representation of her sorrow, would always be a constant reminder of what she had lost. She’d never be able to move forward otherwise.

Pressing her lips to the pendant, Zelda closed her eyes and offered up one final prayer. Its internal light glowed softly when she placed it in the center of the handkerchief and coiled the long silver chain on top with trembling fingers. She carefully wrapped the fabric around it, tying the embroidered edges together before tucking the small bundle deep inside the vase with the bouquet of flowers.

When she exited the mausoleum, her eyes stinging and raw, Shad was immediately at her side, offering her silent reassurance. Crossing her arms against the chill, evening air, she allowed herself to lean into his side, taking comfort in his warm embrace. Dampé, his weathered face as impassive as the gravestone, pulled the heavy door closed with a definitive thunk, forever sealing away the cherished necklace and all the memories tied to it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

Light Spirit’s Message (Twilight Princess) by Asuka Ohta/Toru Minegishi

The way Shad’s expression lit up when he saw Zelda before dinner was all the proof she needed that she’d done the right thing. He was examining the painted face of the foyer clock, but when he saw Zelda appear at the foot of stairs, he moved quickly to her side. She didn’t miss how his casual glance took in the absence of her necklace, made evident by her décolleté bodice of her dusty rose silk gown. 

“Zelda, you look… well, you always look beautiful, but tonight you look especially so.” He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and offered her his arm.

“Thank you, Shad.” 

His gaze softened when she slipped her arm through his and his steadfastness helped ease any lingering doubt she’d harbored over her decision.

They entered the sitting room to find Bo and a handsome couple, already standing beside the stone fireplace. They must be Rusl, and his wife, Uli. Ilia had given Zelda some minor details about Rusl and his family before their arrival, including the names of his wife and son, Colin. 

When Bo had mentioned Rusl earlier that day, the image Zelda had conjured in her mind was a muscular, rugged man with sharp, determined eyes. She was surprised to find he didn’t resemble what she’s pictured in the slightest. If not for the sword strapped to his side, she would never have guessed the man with graying blond hair speaking in hushed tones with Bo was the town protector. He bowed upon their approach, and when he straightened, twinkling blue eyes shone from a kind face as he greeted her and Shad. His wife, Uli, was noticeably pregnant, her belly a prominent curve beneath her flowing dress. 

Zelda swiftly dismissed the woman’s attempted curtsy with a gentle wave of her hand. “Please, there’s no need for such formalities here,” she assured with a warm smile.

Uli responded with a grateful smile of her own, a hand instinctively resting on the firm, rounded bump. “Thank you, Your Highness,” she replied, her voice betraying a hint of relief. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

As they were wrapping up introductions, Zelda noticed a towheaded boy, Colin no doubt, shyly peeking from around Uli’s swollen belly. He clung tightly to Uli’s hand as he stared up at Zelda with wide cornflower blue eyes. His bowl cut hair flopped across his forehead with his clumsy attempt at a bow. 

She bent until her skirts formed a tidy pool on the floor and shook his hand. “Charmed to meet you, young Master Colin.”

His cheeks pinked immediately at the greeting. “Thank you, Princess Zelda.” He turned bright blue eyes up toward his father. Rusl’s nod of approval resulted in a proud smile splitting Colin’s cherubic face.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Zelda remarked, settling her gaze on Rusl. “Bo has spoken highly of your skills, Sir Rusl.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Rusl replied, his soft-spoken voice tinged with steady resolve. “Now that your men are here, I’m sure we can clear up the trouble in no time.”

“That’s good to hear.” Zelda flicked her eyes toward Bo as she continued to speak, “As the local expert, I’ll be sure to have Bo inform the men to defer to you.”

“Your knowledge of the area and expert skills will prove invaluable in solving this issue swiftly, I’m sure,” Bo confirmed. 

Rusl inclined his head in gratitude, his eyes warm and appreciative, while Uli gazed up at him, a prideful smile lighting up her face. The way she stood, slightly leaning into him, and the gentle, protective manner in which he kept her arm tucked close to his side spoke volumes of their affection for one another. Uli’s cheeks pinked prettily when Rusl leaned in to plant a soft kiss to her temple. Zelda envied them and the effortless connection they seemed to share.

As the men moved to a corner of the room to continue the discussion, the three women sat on the cushioned chairs close to the roaring fire. Uli declined the champagne apéritif a maid brought in on a silver tray, requesting a cup of plain tea instead. Placing her hands on either side of her bump, she leaned back against the settee with a sigh.

“How are you feeling these days, Uli?” Ilia asked, taking a small sip of her beverage.

“Other than a balloon that’s about to pop, I feel well. I’m anxious to meet this little one. The way they kick, I can tell that they’re already strong like their father.” Despite her obvious discomfort, Uli’s smile was tender and warm.

“You have a lovely family,” Zelda commented. “It’s clear Colin looks up to Rusl.”

Uli chuckled, glancing toward where the men and Colin stood conversing. “Yes, he reminds us every day that he’s going to grow up to be just like Rusl. He’s certainly just as stubborn. Nothing less than a broken limb would keep Rusl from performing his duty, and even then I think he’d hobble about if I allowed it. It’s been difficult to explain to Colin why he can’t be out visiting his friends after sunset. He insists he’s as brave as his father and should be out there protecting them, too.”

Colin looked up at his father and wore a bright smile on his face. He squared his shoulders to stand as tall as possible when Bo directed a comment his way. Rusl affectionately tousled the top of his son’s head, a proud look glittering in his pale blue eyes. 

It reminded Zelda of the bond she shared with her mother before she passed, and a bittersweet ache settled in her chest. How she longed for her mother’s guidance, especially now when she still felt so uncertain about her future. A wave of loneliness washed over her.

She glanced over at Shad, engrossed in the conversation between Bo and Rusl, his brow furrowed in concentration. Shad had a tactician’s analytical mind, and every so often he interjected his own conclusions for the best course of action. He was methodical in his approach to all aspects of his life. Leave no stone unturned was the motto he lived by.

His glasses caught the flickering firelight, accentuating the blazing conviction in his hazel eyes as he pressed his point. It was moments like these that she truly appreciated his intellect and dedication. To an outside observer, she had what many would call a charmed life—a loving father, a secure future, a devoted fiancé, and more than likely, she’d have a beautiful family of her own one day. That was why it made the constant ache of yearning in her heart so vexing. 

Yet, even as she tried to focus on the present conversation, her mind kept drifting back to the cold mausoleum and the name etched in gold that mattered more to her than her own. She twisted the antique engagement ring Shad had given her, the woven filigree on either side of the ruby an endless maze beneath her fingertips. It didn’t bring the solace she sought and had always found when she gripped the amethyst pendant.

Regret welled up within her. Perhaps she’d been too hasty in her decision to part with the cherished necklace. She could have tucked it away at the back of her jewelry box. But Zelda knew she was only fooling herself if she thought she’d have the willpower to leave it there. Hence the difficult choice of locking it away somewhere she’d not easily be able to return to. In a few days’ time, they would leave this place, and she’d have no reason to ever visit Ordon Village again.

—

Shifting in the saddle of the dapple-gray steed Bo had loaned her that morning, Zelda sighed as she adjusted the petticoat of her high-waisted black walking skirt. She detested riding side-saddle, but since they would be passing through the village to reach the spring, decorum dictated she did so. 

Ilia wasn’t beholden to such rules and led the way astride a sleek chestnut mare. When she’d swung her leg over the saddle, Zelda had caught a glimpse of trousers beneath the hem of her full skirt and plain bodice. She looked very comfortable, and Zelda regretted her choice of pairing her skirt with a white blouse with ruffled embellishments on the cuffs and neckline. If they wound up digging in the ruins, as Shad intended, her ensemble would surely be ruined by the end of the day. 

Shad, dressed in his usual research attire—a brown tweed jacket, tan slacks, and a leather utility belt with several pouches, heard her sigh and glanced over at her. “Everything all right, my darling?”

Zelda bit back another sigh. “Just wishing I had worn something more suitable.”

“I think you look fetching,” he answered, twisting in his saddle to look at her fully.

“Tell me that after a day of crawling in the dirt,” Zelda countered. She nodded her head at the villagers bowing and waving as they passed. “Now, eyes ahead. It wouldn’t do for the people to see their future prince consort fall off his mount.”

Shad studied her a moment longer, a contented smile playing on his lips. “I believe that may be the first time you’ve openly referred to me as your consort.”

Watching the flanks of Ilia’s horse ripple, Zelda offered him a demure smile in return. “I suppose you had better become used to it.”

Chuckling softly, Shad turned his attention back to the road. It had snowed overnight, and the roofs of the quaint shops and homes of the village were covered in white. Icicles dripped from the eaves, and the greenery and berries in the flower boxes stood out in stark contrast to the blanket of white.

Ilia had mentioned earlier the water of the spring was warm, and  Zelda found she was looking forward to spending the day there and exploring the ruins. There was something to be said for burying oneself in research. It tended to not leave much room for any external thoughts and misgivings as had plagued her the prior evening all throughout dinner.

Rusl was waiting at the gate and raised his hand in greeting. His powerful draft horse’s white hooves restlessly pawed the earth, kicking up snow. Its black tail swished impatiently back and forth, and it tossed its head when their horses drew near.

He tugged on the reins to steady his movement and the horse settled. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

“Good morning, Sir Rusl. How did things fair at the ranch this morning?” Zelda asked once they had brought their mounts to a stop.

“There were fresh wolf tracks this morning, and your captain showed me the larger impressions. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say they were formed by a sizable alpha wolf. I followed the tracks, but they stopped at the foot of the mountain. The soldiers are performing a more thorough sweep of the area.”

“Should we be concerned?” Shad asked. His archeology equipment, hooked to his belt, rattled when he sat up straighter in his saddle to scan the surrounding woods. 

“We should remain vigilant, but wolves are most active between dusk and dawn. We should be all right, as long as we have returned to the village by sunset.”

The quiver strapped to his back and the casual way Rusl rested his hand on the pommel of his sword indicated he was a skilled huntsman. It was clear he was more than knowledgeable of the forest and the wildlife that lived there. His calm reassurance helped further allay any lingering misgivings Zelda harbored. 

“Thank you for bringing us abreast of the situation and assisting the soldiers in this matter. I’m sure they’ve found your advice invaluable. I, for one, feel much safer with your company today.” Zelda shifted the reins in her hands, and her horse turned to face the path ahead.

Inclining his head at her praise, Rusl smiled warmly. “It’s an honor to be your riding companion. Shall we proceed to the spring?”  

“It’s not too far of a ride from here,” Ilia remarked. Clicking her tongue, her  mare started off at a slow canter, and Shad turned his horse to fall in beside her.

The forest was alive with birdsong, and Zelda had to admit, despite the dreary cloud cover, it was peaceful. The trees kept the continuous winds blowing off the mountains at bay, and the chill that had settled in Zelda’s bones when she’d stepped outside that morning abated. Rusl’s horse snorted, tossing its head, as it tried to pull ahead of the others. Digging in his heels, he expertly tugged on the reins, muttering a soft ‘ho’. 

“I hope Uli won’t be missing you too terribly?” Zelda asked, raising her voice to carry over the rhythmic clopping of hooves as his horse settled back into an easy trot.

Rusl’s eyes shone brightly, and a smile touched his lips at the mention of his wife. “She sent me on my way with blessings and regards to bring to you. And Colin was standing guard by the front door when I departed this morning.”

Zelda could picture their towheaded son eager to be helpful. He had been so earnest at dinner. She’d always imagined she’d one day have a son or daughter with similar features running through the castle gardens that had once brought her endless hours of joy. Perhaps, when she had a child of her own, that spark of true happiness would be reignited. 

“She mentioned yesterday Colin's intent to follow in your footsteps. It would seem he is off to a good start.” 

“I couldn’t ask for a better son. He’ll be a fine older brother to our little one that’s on the way.” 

“I have no doubt.” 

They fell into a companionable silence. Rusl swiveled his head occasionally, his vigilant eyes scanning the surroundings in a manner that hinted he’d performed the action countless times before. The soft murmur of Ilia’s and Shad’s voices floated back to them, but Zelda could only catch fragments of their conversation. At one point, something Shad said elicited a burst of laughter from Ilia, a melodious sound that danced like a soft breeze through windchimes.

Zelda furrowed her brow, shifting through her memories to recall the last time she had laughed with such carefree abandon. Not since she’d returned from university to take up her duties. Had there been times since then that Shad had said something humorous to her that she’d been oblivious to? Now that she was making a more concerted effort to be present, she would have to be sure to pay closer attention.

The babbling of water harmonizing with the quiet sounds of the forest alerted Zelda that they were approaching the spring. There was a natural break in the trees when they rounded a bend in the road, and an odd light, reminiscent of the sun’s rays on a warm summer’s day, spilled across the path. Perhaps it was merely her imagination, but the air felt warmer as they came to a stop by the entrance. 

Rusl dismounted and entered the forest to ensure there weren’t any wild animals in the area while the rest of them took their time. Ilia slipped off her mare and took the reins of his horse, tying them to a nearby tree.

Shad easily hopped off his saddle and landed with a soft thud and a louder clang of his equipment and hurried to assist Zelda. He held her hand firmly, and caught her by the waist as she slid off the saddle. She straightened her posture, the hem of her skirt fluttering about her ankles as she touched the ground.

“Thank you, Shad.” She glanced up at him with a grateful smile. There was a flicker of something in his expression she couldn’t place as he looked back at her, and he leaned closer. His lips brushed against hers, soft as a moth’s wings. The gesture shocked her so completely, Zelda froze, neither drawing away or leaning in to reciprocate. 

A flush heated her cheeks as Shad dropped her hand and stepped back, his scholarly mask slipping to reveal a flash of embarrassed frustration. Turning away, he adjusted his glasses, his cheeks burning as bright as hers, and reached to collect his bag. 

Zelda huffed silently, her breath coming out in a small puffy cloud, disappointed with herself. Wasn’t this what she wanted?  

“All is quiet, Your Highness,” Rusl announced, emerging from a nearby copse of trees and dispelling the tension lingering in the air. “I’ll stand watch at the entrance and patrol as you work.”

“That’s good to hear. Thank you, Rusl.” Zelda looked where Shad and Ilia waited by the entrance. She didn’t miss the sympathetic look on Ilia’s face as she murmured to Shad. She must have witnessed the awkward exchange. They looked up when she cleared her throat. “Shall we proceed?”

The dark soil of the woods blended into small patches of grass dotted with tiny white wildflowers as they entered the grotto, and Zelda was immediately transfixed. The tranquil place had been untouched by the recent storm. A crystal clear pool, the color of sapphires, shimmered before them. The water lapped at a narrow strip of fine golden sand. Mist, from a burbling waterfall cascading down a tiered limestone wall, filled the air. Worn stones of various shapes and sizes lined either side of the pond, and gnarled trees sprang from the stone, their leafy branches creating a natural canopy. 

The tension in her shoulders and neck Zelda was so accustomed to carrying, lifted as she stepped further into the enclosure. The air vibrated with an unseen magic, and all of them, even Ilia and Rusl, who had visited this place before, stood in momentary awe of its pure, simple beauty. 

A sense of peace lingered all around them. The entire space, tucked away among the dark, forbidding Faron woods, was such a stark contrast. It did not feel to be of this earth. Her eyes traveled to the top of the waterfall. Was the stream feeding it as crystal clear or was there something about the limestone that purified the water?

“It’s magnificent,” Shad breathed, barely above a whisper, as if the spoken word would shatter the illusion. 

They ventured closer to the water’s edge, and Zelda knelt, careful to keep her skirts tucked beneath her. Removing a glove, she dipped her hand in the water and found, just as Ilia had promised, it was surprisingly warm in comparison to the cold, winter air.

“The legends speak of mysterious powers that once dwelled here,” Ilia remarked from where she stood by a crumbling, rune-covered plinth. “Some even from the long extinct Twilight Realm.”

Zelda stilled, a small spark of curiosity igniting within her, along with a faded memory. Link’s mother was a descendant many generations removed from the last of the Twili that had fled to Hyrule when their world was crumbling. She recalled Midna would take a yearly pilgrimage to visit this spring. What was it about this place that drew her year after year? 

“There’s a peaceful energy that’s almost palpable,” she murmured, watching the water trickle from her fingers when she lifted her hand from the spring.

Shad stepped closer, his scholarly curiosity piqued, no doubt, by Ilia’s tale and Zelda’s comment. He knelt beside her and studied the sparkling water. “It’s beyond anything I have read or imagined.” His voice was tinged with awe. “I can’t wait to dive in.”

Zelda smiled at the unintended pun, and she glanced over to find his face still aglow with wonder. When he met her gaze, his smile reached his eyes, and she was happy that the earlier tension between them seemed to have abated.

Standing up, he brushed off his trousers and offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation, giving him a reassuring squeeze that she hoped signaled both an apology and that all was well.

She allowed him to lead her to where Ilia stood before he released her hand to remove his notebook from one of the pouches on his belt. He flipped it to a blank page and pulled a chain from his waistcoat from which hung his pocket watch and a pencil. “I have a book back at the manor that may prove useful in translating these runic figures.” He began scribbling notes as he walked around the pedestal. 

Ilia stepped out of his path to stand beside Zelda. “Would you like me to retrieve the vellum and wax and make rubbings of the script for future reference?”

Zelda nodded, appreciating the other woman’s thoughtfulness. “Yes, that’s an excellent suggestion. Thank you, Ilia.” 

She watched Ilia depart to collect the materials from the saddlebags before turning back to Shad. He was already deeply absorbed in his task, his eyes rapidly scanning the runes, a thoughtful look crossing his features before he jotted down his musings in the margins of his notes.

Leaving him to his work, Zelda returned to the sandy shore just above the waterline to gaze at the waterfall once more. Even in the gray light of the day, it glowed faintly, as if it were reflecting the sun’s rays. She walked along the bank to a worn rock wall bordering the far side of the shallow pond. There she discovered a natural staircase made of packed earth and thick tree roots leading to the source of the waterfall. Using the wall as a banister of sorts, Zelda carefully climbed the stairs until she reached the top.

From that vantage point she could view the entire grotto. Zelda could see Rusl standing at the entrance of the cove, and Shad, still taking notes and muttering to himself while Ilia knelt beside the plinth making rubbings. The mist from the waterfall added a hazy quality to the scene, giving it almost a dreamlike aura.

A gentle snow began to fall as Zelda placed a hand on the mossy rocks and walked along a narrow, winding  path. The stream bed was a mosaic of rocks in various shapes and colors, all worn smooth by the relentless flow of the water. There were more plinths on either side of the babbling brook with markings similar to the one below.

She was about to examine a nearby pillar in closer detail when a plaintive cry came from the forest behind her. It sounded like a small child or animal. Turning away from the rock wall, Zelda peered past the tree trunks and saw a small spot of orange curled up in a ball. Pointed ears pricked toward her. Beth’s missing cat, no doubt

Venturing off the path, Zelda walked several feet toward the tabby before kneeling. Holding out her hand, she clicked her tongue, hoping it might come. “Here, kitty.”

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do if she was able to catch it, but perhaps they could fashion a carry case out of one of the saddle bags. The cat’s green eyes regarded her with a mix of wariness and curiosity. Slowly, it uncurled from its crouch and took a tentative step toward her outstretched hand.

“That’s it, good kitty,” Zelda coaxed, inching forward, which was a mistake. The rustle of her petticoats startled the animal and it darted to the right away from her. Blowing out a sigh of frustration, Zelda rose, brushing snow off her skirts as she pursued it, moving deeper into the forest. Surely, it would be easy to spot among the dark trees and white snow.

A sudden gust of cold wind blew tendrils of Zelda’s silky hair across her face. She brushed them away, a shiver running down her spine as the chill seeped through her thick layers. The towering trees creaked, their branches swaying with the force of the wind that brought tears to Zelda’s eyes. A haunting moan replaced the earlier birdsong. It grew steadily louder, sweeping through the forest, bringing with it fat flakes of snow. In the distance she heard Rusl’s shout of warning and Shad calling her name.

She gave up the search to make her way back to the path. The blizzard descended upon the woods with a harsh vengeance, as if the clouds had opened up and dropped a day’s worth of snow in a matter of minutes. Zelda found herself surrounded in a chaotic flurry that had obscured the footprints she’d made entering the forest. Her heart raced as she tried to find the stream.

“Shad!” Her cry for help was drowned out by the wailing of the viscous wind. She tried again, as she moved in the direction she thought the grotto was in. “Shad!”

Her breath came in short gasps as the panic began to set in. How could she have lost her way so easily? She hadn't thought she'd strayed so far from the path. Now all she could feel when she stretched out her arms was the rough bark of the swaying trees in any direction. 

“Shad! Rusl!” The warm tears that sprang to her eyes turned cold as soon as they dropped to her cheeks, and Zelda shivered again. Every step she took, the snow swirled around her, piling in deep drifts as the high winds stirred up what had accumulated on the ground. It clung to her hair, eyelashes, and cloak. She pulled the hood over her head, holding it in place so it wouldn’t be blown back by the harsh winds, and continued to call for help.

Her voice grew hoarse from her relentless screaming, her cries swallowed by the storm. Her legs ached with fatigue, as each step became increasingly difficult in a landscape where snow had already accumulated to over a foot deep. She bit back a sob, her breath hitching in her chest as she leaned against the rough bark of a towering tree. Its snow laden branches whipped wildly in the wind. Gazing about her, all Zelda could see was a vast expanse of white stretching endlessly around her. A disorienting maze of sameness.

The realization settled in her chest like a stone at the bottom of a lake. She was hopelessly lost.

Chapter Text

Interlude

Moonlight Sonata by Hidden Citizens

“Did you know hawks can hunt even in weather like this?” Link remarked, turning away from the library window, his voice tinged with awe. “I just saw one swoop by the window!” 

He’d abandoned his book long ago to observe the steadily falling snowflakes. Zelda had chosen to remain curled up in a chair by the fire, away from the chilly draft seeping from the edges of the window casement. The snow had accumulated well over a foot, and a blanket of white covered the ground, transforming it into a glittering wonderland. 

Welcoming the break, Zelda looked up from the small frame securing a handkerchief. She’d hoped to proudly present her father with a monogrammed set for his birthday, but it was becoming increasingly clear she may have to rethink her gift. To practice, she’d been attempting to stitch Link’s initials into the corner. L’s were far easier to manage than D’s, but even after months of diligent practice the letters were barely legible, made up of crooked lines and uneven stitches of blue thread.

“I didn’t.” She set the embroidery aside with a heavy sigh and reached for the tea service set out on the table beside her. “Did you learn that when you and your father were visiting the castle mews yesterday?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Link joined her, picking up the abandoned needlework as she poured them steaming cups of tea from a silver carafe. Raising an eyebrow, he tapped a finger against the ill-formed letters. “L. O? And is this supposed to be an ‘H’?” He waved the frame in her direction. “I think I may have to change my name, Mouse.”

Zelda slid a porcelain cup over to him with a scowl and a light swat on the arm. “Ha ha. Very funny. I’ve already decided to give up this fruitless endeavor. I have no talent for stitching. I’d much rather learn falconry, like you.”

“Falconry can be just as tedious as embroidery.” Link carelessly dropped three sugar cubes in his cup, splashing tea over the sides of the porcelain. He stirred them around with a silver spoon watching them dissolve. “It requires an immense amount of patience and precision, as well. Precision you have in spades, but patience…” He chuckled, tapping the spoon against the cup with a clink.

“I’m patient!” Zelda exclaimed, her tea momentarily forgotten as she glared at him.

Link laughed openly at her indignation. “Sure you are.” He took a sip of his beverage, grinning at her through the steam. “Hawks will perch and watch their prey for hours. Hours, Zelda. You can’t last a quarter of one before sneaking to the kitchens for a pastry.”

“As if you have any room to talk!” Zelda tried to look indignant, but her grin gave her away, and she giggled. It caught in her throat when she met his gaze. There was merriment there, but also something deeper that she'd been noticing as of late. Averting her eyes, she quickly took a gulp of tea, but she knew the hot liquid had nothing to do with the pleasant warmth spreading through her. 

They fell silent, sipping their drinks by a crackling fire in the hearth that added to the peacefulness of a snowy day spent indoors. Link’s expression turned thoughtful as he looked at her over the rim of his cup. “I could teach you, you know.”

“What? Falconry?” Zelda asked, quirking the corners of her lips into a smile when he nodded. 

“Yes. I know it’s not typical for women to join the hunt, but that’s an antiquated notion, don’t you think?” he asked, a look of defiance in his eyes.

Being the future Duke of a country province, Zelda wasn’t surprised he held a different view when it came to women. Especially since his mother had such a strong and independent will. “I think I would agree.” 

“Then, when the weather breaks, we’ll visit the mews.” Link removed the handkerchief from the frame and smoothed out the creases. “May I keep this?”

“By all means,” Zelda sighed, waving the offending accessory away. “Use it as a blotter for your ink well.”

“Oh no, I shan’t be using it for that.” He folded it into a neat square and tucked it in his left breast pocket until only a sliver of the silk appeared. His dark blue eyes sparkled with amusement in the flickering lamplight as he tapped his chest. “I’ll keep it close to my heart. Always.”

Zelda snorted tea through her nose. Link chuckled quietly as she sputtered and coughed, and her eyes watered with laughter. Setting his cup in the saucer with a clink, he reached over and patted her on the back soothingly.

“You did that on purpose!” Zelda accused once she’d caught her breath and regained her composure.

“What?” Link asked innocently, snagging a petit fours from the tea tray. “Isn’t that the kind of line all those dashing, handsome men use in those romance novels you adore?”

“You’re neither of those things,” she retorted, rolling her eyes and grinning at his effort to feign wounded pride. “And you have a smudge of chocolate at the corner of your mouth that further proves my point.”

“Good thing I have this then.” His grin broadened as he pulled the handkerchief from his pocket with a flourish to wipe away the crumb. 

She laughed again and settled back in her chair, content to wile away the hours in the library while the winter storm continued outside.

—

A screech pierced the air, and Zelda’s eyes flew open. She was not ensconced in the warm castle library sharing a cup of tea with Link. The blanket of snow covering the ground around her was nothing like the picturesque view outside the window in her dream memory. It was frigid and harsh, and from its bluish glow she could tell night had fallen. The dark trunks of the trees towering above her head were a stark contrast against the white. The harsh wind had abated, but snow still fell heavily, coating her eyelashes and making it impossible to see further than a foot in any direction.

She’d stumbled through the woods, from tree to tree, until she lost her footing in a deep snow drift. Thinking perhaps it would be best to stay in one spot, she’d pressed her back to a tree stump and pulled her cloak about her in an attempt to ward off the chill. She must have dozed off, lulled by the numbing cold that had seeped into her bones. 

But she couldn’t stay here. To do so would mean certain death. Zelda struggled to her feet, her stiff limbs protesting against the biting cold, and pushed forward. There was no way of knowing if she was going in the right direction, every tree and drift she passed looked the same in the snowy landscape. All the same, she called to Shad and Rusl, hoping her desperate plea would ring through the dense silence of the forest. The stillness seemed to absorb her cries, and it offered no reassurance of an answering call.

She lifted her skirt and petticoats, that had grown stiff in the frigid temperatures, to trudge through the snow. Each step was a battle to remain upright as her feet sank deeper into drifts that reached past her ankles. Her gloves were soaked through, icy snow caked the hems of her skirts and filled her boots.

As she pressed on, a haunting howl echoed through the forest. Its primal sound sliced through the air and filled Zelda with intense dread. A hawk shrieked directly overhead, as if answering the wolf’s call, and she froze where she stood, her breath coming out in rapid puffs of white. In her desperation to find her way, she had momentarily forgotten about the dangers lurking in the woods—the wolf pack plaguing Fado’s ranch and the other, larger predator Rusl suspected was an unusually large alpha. 

She struggled to turn in a frantic circle, straining to see through the waning light and densely falling snow. A stab of fear, colder than the icy chill that cut through her cloak, struck her when a brief break in the curtain of snow revealed a shadowy form lurking in the distance, too low to the ground to be human.

Her mother’s screams, echoes from the past, rang through her mind as Zelda frantically ran through the forest. Another chilling howl sent her heart pounding wildly, and she clamped her hands over her ears, desperate to drown out the terrifying sound.  

When she had run away from the wolf pack as a child, she’d stumbled upon a thicket of brambles. She had desperately crawled through a narrow gap. The sharp thorns had torn her sleeves and skirts, and tugged mercilessly at her hair. One particularly jagged thorn had pierced her skin just above her eyebrow; she still had a thin scar to show for it. 

Zelda covered her mouth to smother an anguished cry. There was no such hiding place in this dense forest of tall, swaying trees, and if there were, it was hidden by the drifting snow. Exhaustion weighed her down like an anchor. Each step became increasingly laborious, her legs heavier and more unwilling to be lifted higher than a few inches. 

Despite the freezing temperatures, a light sheen of sweat covered her brow from the exertion. She pressed a fist against her burning chest, forcing herself to press on. Even if she escaped whatever was hunting her, if she didn’t find shelter, Zelda would succumb to the elements before the night was over. If it weren’t for the blanket of snow reflecting the light off the cloud cover, she would be running blindly in the dark.

The hawk’s cry rang out, and a large bird of prey with a wing span of at least a meter or more landed on a nearby branch. Clumps of accumulated snow fell to the ground at Zelda’s feet. In the waning light, she could see the bird’s beady, black eyes glinting down at her when it cocked its head to one side. Its screech pierced the air once more.

The tips of her ears pricked when heavy, even panting reached them. Against her better judgement, she chanced a glance over her shoulder. Her hood impaired part of her peripheral vision, but she could see well enough. She choked back a scream when she caught a glimpse of a hulking, four-legged beast keeping pace with her. Her breath came in ragged gasps and high-pitched wheezes as terror clawed relentlessly at her insides. 

“Stay away from me!” Panic gripped her in its vice-like grip. Zelda’s adrenaline kicked in and she tore through the woods. Branches whipped at her face and arms as she ran, her boots crunching on the frozen snow. 

The beast’s growls grew louder. The heavy panting closer.

She stumbled over a hidden root, nearly falling, but somehow, she plowed on, blindly running as visions of sharp teeth and claws flashed through her mind. With her next step, she was stopped short, nearly toppling backward. Pulled back by an unseen force, the collar of her cloak nearly choked her. 

Zelda tore at the hood, digging her fingers inside the collar. A soft whine sounded behind her, and she froze, fingers wedged between the cloak and her throat. Sucking in short breaths that barely delivered any air to her lungs, Zelda turned her head. Her eyes widened when she saw what had snagged her garment.

A white-muzzled silver wolf had the hem of her cloak firmly locked in its jaws. It tossed its head, canines flashing, trying to pull her off balance. White markings, strangely reminiscent of the royal crest, swirled in the middle of its head and fanned out above its eyes. One glowing blue eye stared unblinking at her, the other clouded over like that of an old dog with cataracts. Growling, its muscles rippled beneath its snow-coated fur as it braced its hind legs and again forcefully yanked on her cloak. 

Redoubling her efforts, Zelda twisted away and fumbled with the clasp of the cloak. Her half-frozen fingers burned inside gloves that had long grown useless at warding off the cold. She strained against the weight of the wolf holding her in place.

The clasp released just as the wolf pulled the cloak with a frustrated snarl. Zelda stumbled forward, flinging her arms out. One step she was standing on solid ground and the next she was falling off the edge of a steep embankment. With a strangled scream she tumbled down the hill. The world became a dizzying kaleidoscope of gray rock, white snow, and brown brush. Her arms and legs pinwheeled helplessly. She barely registered the pain of her limbs as she tried to grab on to anything solid to halt her descent.

She hit the bottom with a resounding thud, the impact forcefully expelling the air from her lungs. Stars exploded in her vision when her head struck a jagged rock. As black crowded the edges, she saw the hawk, wings spread wide, endlessly circling far above her. Just before she slipped completely into the darkness, the hawk’s silhouette was eclipsed by the swift, powerful leap of the wolf—its form a blur of motion as it lunged toward her.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Dawn of Faith by Eternal Eclipse

A sharp, relentless ache, throbbing in her temples like the beating of a drum, dragged Zelda back to consciousness. Her head and neck felt extremely tender, and she was confused that a soft feather mattress and pillow cradled her instead of a harsh, icy snowbank.

Attempting to lift her arm to assess the extent of her injuries, she was met with a searing pain that lanced through her body like a lightning bolt. Vivid memories swirled through her aching head—the terrifying sensation of falling off the edge of a precipitous incline, tumbling like a rag-doll down the steep embankment, and the menacing image of the wolf lunging toward her. 

Then hazier ones, that she couldn’t be sure were reality or dreams—being dragged over the frozen ground. Awaking inside a hollow log, out of the worst of the biting wind and stinging sleet. A warm body curled next to her frigid one. Her fingers tangled in soft fur. Being wrapped in a thick cloak that filled her nose with the comforting scent of autumn. Strong arms carrying her through the storm. Urgent, hushed whispers. Cold compresses against her fevered brow. Rags soaked in mint and camphor infused water held against her dry, cracked lips; the soothing liquid trickling down her parched throat.

Her heart raced with the realization that someone must have discovered her. Rescued her! From the wolf’s jaws mere moments after she’d succumbed to unconsciousness. Despite the soreness of her joints and muscles, relief washed over her that she was alive, and she relaxed back into the mattress. She brushed her fingers over the satin coverlet. A ticking clock could be heard over the soft crackling of a fire. The sensation, the sound, and the smell  assured her she was alive and relatively well. And aware  enough to open her eyes and take stock of her surroundings.

However, it wasn’t her room at Mayor Bo’s home she saw when she dared crack her eyelids open. Instead, she was met with darkness until her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Eventually, a cherry-wood canopy bed swam in her vision. Its burgundy velvet curtains weren’t completely drawn closed and allowed the golden glow of the fire’s flickering flames to be visible. This wasn’t her room at Bo’s home, but perhaps they’d set her up in a different one for convenience’s sake.

“Shad?” was all she managed to croak out, her voice barely audible. Her throat was raw, as if she had swallowed sandpaper, and every breath she took sent a sharp burn to her aching lungs. She heard soft shuffling beyond the heavy curtains, and with considerable effort, Zelda attempted to sit up and reached out a trembling hand to draw them back further. 

“Lie back down, dearie.” A small statured woman with a deeply lined face and watery crimson eyes appeared from the shadows. She gently eased Zelda back onto the bed with a gnarled, but tender hand and tucked the coverlet around her.  

Zelda blinked, trying to dispel the fog clouding her mind and orient herself to the strange surroundings. She didn’t recognize the  woman from Bo’s staff. Her confusion must have been evident on her face, because the woman offered her an understanding smile that reached her wizened eyes.

“I’m Impaz, housekeeper for this estate.” Although her voice quivered with age, it was strong and surprisingly soothing, and immediately put Zelda at ease. Impaz carefully adjusted the quilted cover around Zelda’s shoulders. “You’ve taken a bad fall and are suffering from a concussion and mild case of hypothermia.”

Questions swirled through Zelda’s mind like the snow flurries being blown by the faintly howling wind outside. “Where,” she swallowed, grimacing at the soreness in her throat the action caused. “Where am I?”

Impaz sat back in a tufted leather armchair, studying Zelda with cautious eyes. “You’re at Faron Grove Hall. It’s a good thing the master of this house found you when he did. You were lying unconscious at the base of a steep ravine  and would have soon succumbed to the elements had he not brought you back here.”

Zelda’s eyes widened. Faron Grove Hall? How could that possibly be? She was certain Ilia had mentioned the Duke had returned abroad for the season, but her thoughts were too scattered at the moment to search through them. Perhaps, he had left a few staff behind to see about the renovations. 

“How?” she whispered, shaking her head slightly and immediately regretting the movement. Spots appeared in her vision as a sharp pain flared up, pulling a groan from her.

“Never you mind right now. You’re safe and that’s all that matters for the time being,” Impaz assured her. With a shake of her head, the woman’s smile returned, warm and comforting,  and she tenderly patted Zelda’s arm. “You rest here while I fetch you a cuppa.”

“There was a wolf,” Zelda muttered, her words trailing off.

“Rest, dearie,” Impaz repeated, her tone gentle but firm. She grasped the iron handle of a heavy oak door and tugged it open to slip out into the darkened corridor beyond. The room fell silent when the door closed behind her with a definitive thunk. 

Zelda’s heart thundered in her ears as she lay  alone in the unfamiliar chamber, trying to remember how she had ended up in this mysterious place. All she could recall were the  scattered images of falling snow, icy terror clawing at her insides, the wolf’s glowing blue eye, and perhaps glimpses of her rescuer. He was all dark shadow and blurred edges. She wasn’t certain she could fully trust those memories.

Faron Grove Hall. Link’s home.

A myriad of thoughts raced like wild stallions galloping through the fog clouding her brain. A shiver ran down her spine, and her fingers clutched the bedspread. It had to be her imagination that made the air feel oppressive, as if there were a phantom presence of all that was lost lingering in the air.

Her gaze wandered around the dimly lit room, but from her prone position, she couldn’t see beyond the flickering hearth and plush chair Impaz had vacated. She could make out a gilded clock and matching candlestick holders with unlit beeswax candles sitting on the mantle. Their metallic surfaces glowed dully in the firelight.

Sleep stole upon her as she stared at the blank space beyond the accessories where a picture or mirror usually would be. Zelda hadn’t noticed she’d dozed off until she heard the soft creak of the door opening, announcing the housekeeper’s return. Impaz set a tray containing the steaming cup of herbal tea she’d promised on the bedside table. Its fragrant scent wafted through the room as she helped Zelda sit up. Her body screamed in protest and the room spun, despite Impaz’s slow and gentle assistance. By the time she settled back against the fluffed pillows, a faint sheen of sweat covered her brow and her breath came in heavy gasps.

Impaz’s weathered face softened with concern and she handed Zelda the cup. “Drink up, dearie. This will warm you up and help you to feel better.”

“Thank you.” Taking a sip of the fragrant tea, Zelda noted there was a faint trace of honey, no doubt added to soothe her sore throat. The liquid’s warmth spread through her chest, easing some of the tension knotted there. She looked over at Impaz, searching the woman’s watery gaze for answers. “How long have I been here?” 

Impaz hesitated, and Zelda could see the wheels turning in the older woman’s head as she sorted out how much she should reveal. “You’ve been resting for several days now. Your head injury was more severe than it first appeared. We were worried you may never awaken.”

Zelda’s heart skipped a beat at the news. Days had passed without her having any recollection of what had transpired or how she had arrived to be here. She sipped the tea, hoping it would further soothe her frayed nerves and clear her aching head as she tried to process this information. The throbbing pain, keeping time with each beat of her heart, was making it difficult for her to concentrate. No one knew where she was. Shad must be beside himself by now.

Setting the cup aside, she leaned her head back against the pillow, and closed her eyes. “My fiancé, Shad, will be worried.”

“We sent word the day you arrived, but now that you are awake, we will send an update first thing tomorrow that you are improving,” Impaz assured her.

“My father, the king…” Zelda murmured, her father’s face, pinched with worry, filled her mind.

Impaz patted her arm, attempting to reassure her. “We’ve already informed him, as well, Princess.”

Even through Zelda’s addled brain, Impaz’s continued use of the word ‘we’ stood out. Cracking her eyes open, she looked over at the other woman. “May I see the master of the house?”

Impaz’s expression remained unchanged with the request, but her eyes seemed to hold a glint of something Zelda could not place. She took a moment to process her answer, glancing at the clock on the mantle and choosing her words carefully. “He’s indisposed at the moment and has given strict orders not to be disturbed. He asked me to care for you in his absence and apologizes for any inconvenience this may cause.”

Was the older woman implying that he had been looking after Zelda himself? That hardly seemed plausible and made no sense. “Please, Impaz.”

“It’s well past midnight, and you need your rest,” Impaz said in answer, patting Zelda’s arm and pointing to a hand-stitched servant bell pull with a gold tassel hanging beside the headboard. “If you need anything, just ring for me.”

Zelda wanted to argue further, but the brief conversation had completely sapped her of energy. Her eyelids felt so heavy, she found she could barely keep them open. She suspected there had been more added to the tea besides honey, but was too tired to be concerned. Impaz tutted softly as she smoothed the blankets and ensured Zelda’s comfort. The woman’s soothing touch and soft humming gently lulled her back to sleep.

—

When she awakened the following morning, gnawing pangs of hunger accompanied the dull ache still present at the back of her head. Her sleep had been fitful. She had drifted in and out of reality and hazy dreams. Visions of an estate engulfed in flames alternated with the crackling fire in the hearth. The wolf with strange markings staring at her from a shadowy corner of the room turned into nothing more than a dressing gown draped over a chair. Glimpses of the stranger from the castle gardens standing just inside the doorway was only a cloak hanging on a hat rack.

However, someone must have entered in the early morning hours while she slumbered to draw back the window curtains and add fresh logs to the softly crackling fire. The somber light of a cloud-covered winter day filtered through glass panes rimmed with frost. Snow still fell heavily, and a considerable amount had accumulated on the window’s ledge. Despite how frigid it appeared outside, the room was pleasantly warm. Zelda pushed back the covers without feeling a hint of a chill. 

With deliberate slowness, she moved to sit up and gently tugged on the tasseled bell pull hanging nearby. Her temples throbbed with each beat of her heart and her muscles and joints were stiff from misuse. She winced when she gingerly assessed the damage and felt a tender welt beneath a bandage at the base of her skull. 

Glancing down at herself, she noticed her attire had been swapped for a modest, but finely made cotton nightdress. Her fingers idly traced its ruffled neckline and satin ribbons as her eyes roamed around the room, taking in details now illuminated by the light of day. A tapestry depicting a fox hunt hung on the wall between two tall windows, and beneath was a heavy cherry wood table and two chairs. The tufted leather chair Impaz had occupied the previous evening had been turned toward the fire and a table containing a stained glass lamp and a stack of books sat beside it. 

It was a warm and inviting space and reminded Zelda very much of the late Duke. He’d had a fondness for the forest color palette and clearly had done his best to bring the woods indoors. Her gaze returned to the tapestry, recalling the dream she’d had while lost in the storm. Link’s promise to teach her falconry echoed in her memory. Like so many of the days spent with him, it had been filled with laughter. He’d chuckled at her initial fright of the falcon when she saw it heading for her, talons open and ready to grasp her forearm. She’d ducked even though he’d securely laced a leather bracer on her arm. It had swooped over their heads, chirping its displeasure as it circled above, waiting for another chance. With her next attempt, she’d stood perfectly still and exhibited the patience he’d teased her she didn’t possess.

Her thoughts flitted restlessly over the limited information she’d cobbled together since awakening the previous evening. Had there been a hawk tracking her in the storm? Or was it her imagination that a wolf had been communicating with the bird of prey’s calls?

Regardless, the Duke had been out in the storm for some inexplicable reason. Found her. Saved her from the jaws of the wolf. Brought her back to this abandoned estate and, with the help of his housekeeper, was caring for Zelda’s well-being. But why had he been out in the blizzard in the first place?

Before she could follow that train of thought further there was a light knock on the door. It swung open to reveal Impaz.

“Good morning, dearie,” she said, greeting Zelda with a warm smile as she wheeled in a cart laden with plates and bowls. The shining silver lids covering the dishes reflected distorted images of the room around them.

Stopping by the table between the windows, she began uncovering the dishes and setting out the items—a plate of eggs, bacon and toast, juice, tea service, and a bowl of porridge. Zelda’s stomach rumbled at the enticing aromas of the breakfast now mingling with the smell of burning wood. 

Once Impaz finished, she took the dressing gown from the back of the chair and moved to stand beside the bed. “You’re looking a bit better today,” she commented, helping Zelda pull on the quilted robe. 

“I feel a bit better,” Zelda agreed, although her body was shaking. From hunger and weakness, she surmised. Concern lit up Impaz’s eyes.

“Do you think you can manage a walk to the table, or should I prepare your breakfast on a tray to eat in bed?” she asked.

The sooner Zelda took her recovery into her own hands, the sooner she’d be up and about again. “I think it would be best if I tried to walk.” 

Stooping, Impaz pulled a pair of satin slippers from beneath the bed, and placed them on Zelda’s feet. When she rose, Zelda took her arm, and gripped it tightly as she slid slowly off the edge of the bed. The older woman was much stronger than her petite frame would lead one to believe. She supported Zelda’s weight easily.

With considerable effort, and much aid from Impaz, Zelda was able to shuffle to the table. Although it was mere feet away, she was disappointed with how weak and winded she was by the time she took a seat in one of the armchairs. She was exhausted already. Grateful for the soft padding, she leaned her head against the high back to catch her breath. 

Zelda took a deep breath in, to calm her bubbling frustration over still being so frail, and emitted a sigh. “That was more taxing than I expected.”

“A bite of food will do wonders.”

Impaz puttered about the table, buttering a piece of toast and pouring Zelda a cup of black tea. By the time she set them in front of her, Zelda had regained her breath and was able to lean forward to prepare her tea with a generous amount of cream and a dipper of honey. She smeared the thick bread with wildberry jam and took a bite that was the perfect combination of flavors.

After she swallowed, Zelda realized she was more than just hungry, she was ravenous, and quickly finished off the slice before taking a sip of tea. Impaz chuckled her approval and went about straightening the bedding and fluffing the pillows while Zelda ate. 

She lifted the lids of various jars Impaz had set out. They contained toppings for the porridge—dried fruit, brown sugar, and chopped nuts. There was also a bowl of fresh berries. It was a full Hylian breakfast, but as famished as she was, she’d never be able to eat it all.

Forgoing the heartier options offered, she spooned a few berries onto the porridge and stirred it with a silver spoon. Zelda noted that all the dishes were of fine porcelain with a abstract rose pattern along the edges. Had this been part of Midna’s set?

“I was too tired and confused to say last night, but I am familiar with this place. A dear friend used to live here. He was the son of the late Duke and perished along with his mother and father.”

Impaz paused in her task smoothing out the bedding. Her brow furrowed and expression clouded as she studied it, but when she turned to fully face Zelda, she’d cleared that look in favor of a neutral one. “Yes, I know the tragedy of which you speak.”

“Then you can understand my confusion. We weren’t aware the new Duke of Faron had decided to stay for the winter.” Zelda continued. “Will I be seeing him today? I would like to thank him for his hospitality.”

“I’m afraid not. He’s gone out.” Impaz hummed a merry tune beneath her breath as she began putting the condiments back on the cart.

“Out?” Zelda glanced out the window where snow was still steadily falling. “Out where?”

“He went to assess how long it may take him and Fyer, the groundskeeper, to clear the lane back to the village once the storm abates.”

“Oh.” Zelda picked up her cup, to finish the last bit of her tea, and cradled it in her hands. “I’m still somewhat taken aback that there are living souls here. There are rumors in the village that this place is haunted. They will be surprised to discover otherwise.”

“The Duke of Faron values his solitude. He would have preferred that his continued presence here not be known, but it can’t be helped now.”

Zelda pondered Impaz’s words as she set her empty cup down with a soft clink. It was practically unheard of for anyone of noble descent to shun society. “Do you mean to say he doesn’t welcome guests? What reason does he give for being such a recluse?” 

“It is not my place to say, dearie.” She gripped the handle of the cart tightly, her knobby knuckles becoming more pronounced beneath paper-thin skin mottled with age spots. “Now, I’ll leave you for the time being. Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”

“No, thank you. I would like to sit here a while longer and enjoy the view.” Zelda’s gaze drifted to the window, her eyes following the unique pattern of ice crystals, a mosaic of frosty stars, bursting from the edges of the glass. 

“Very good. I’ll check on you within the hour as I suspect you’ll be ready to return to your bed by then.” Impaz departed without another word, leaving Zelda to her turbulent thoughts.

Impaz’s cryptic answer had only left her with more questions. As it stood, she wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. It had certainly been her good fortune that anyone lived here, or she would more than likely have died in the storm. She turned her head to gaze at the wide-open yard stretching out beneath the window. Beyond the estate's boundaries, the landscape transformed into rolling hills covered by dense forests, their verdant green currently hidden beneath a blanket of white. The branches of the trees closer to the home were thick and unkempt, encroaching on the structure, which Ilia had described as derelict. Zelda couldn’t be certain about the rest of the home or its exterior, but the room she currently resided in looked to have been maintained well enough. 

It all begged the question, who was this distant cousin of Ordona Hayashi? He seemed to have crawled out of the woodwork about a year after the tragic events unfolded. She’d still been deep in the depths of her grief and hadn’t paid much mind to the letter her father had received relating the details of the cousin’s right to claim the title. 

She watched the snow gently falling, lost in her thoughts until movement in the distance caught her eye. A broad-shouldered figure, clad in an overcoat and hat, crested the hill. He paused at the top of the knoll, lifting his chin to gaze at the sky. Zelda leaned forward in her seat to follow his gaze but could see nothing at first that would have caught his attention. 

He held out his arm, and soon after a falcon appeared out of the cloud cover to land gracefully on the man’s closed fist. Pulling his arm in, he removed a message attached to the bird’s talon, and quickly unrolled the paper to scan it.

The falcon patiently waited, gazing expectantly at him until he pocketed the missive and pulled a treat from the same pocket, offering up the reward. It took it gently with its sharp beak and allowed the man to stroke its head with a finger. When he dropped his hand, the bird took off, flying toward the house. 

Zelda’s eyes followed its trajectory until it disappeared above. When she lowered her gaze, the man was looking directly at her with an intensity that pricked the hairs on her scalp. At least she thought he was. It was difficult to tell with the distance. To her surprise, he raised his hand in a slight wave before turning on his heel to trudge back over the hill the way he’d come. Whether it was the elusive Duke or the groundskeeper, Fyer, Impaz had mentioned, she couldn't be certain.

Turning away from the window, she gazed around to take in the room in its entirety. The absence of any wall adornment above the mantle once again caught her eye. Upon further inspection of the room, she realized there wasn’t a single mirror, not even above the washstand tucked away in the corner.

A slight shiver ran down her spine. Even in the humblest of homes, at least one looking glass could be found. She drew the quilted robe tighter about her shoulders as she pondered this minor, but strange detail, the Duke’s enigmatic behavior and Impaz’s closed-lipped answers to nearly all of Zelda’s questions.

The brightness of the snow outside the window began to make her head and eyes ache. She gave up the task of gazing about the room and closed her eyes. With a heavy sigh, Zelda settled deeper into the chair. After an hour of sitting by the tall window, her energy was completely sapped. Her thoughts grew hazier as the fatigue Impaz had forewarned her of took root.

When Impaz returned, she tutted in dismay, and after changing Zelda's bandage, tucked her back into bed. She spent the remainder of the afternoon in a haze of sleep, comfortably nestled beneath the comforter. Her recovery was punctuated by Impaz's prompt return at lunch with a bowl of vegetable soup and warm bread and then again in the evening with a light dinner consisting of thinly sliced roast venison and mashed root vegetables.

The housekeeper sat in the leather chair by the fire as Zelda ate. Feeling stronger after a day's rest, Zelda decided to try a different tack to garner more information.

"These meals have been delicious, Impaz," she declared once she'd had her fill. "The household cook is as skilled as any we have employed at the castle."

"Why, thank you, dearie," Impaz replied, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It makes me happy to know my food warms the soul."

"Oh," Zelda glanced down at her plate, her curiosity regarding the house and its staff thoroughly piqued. "You've prepared all my meals?"

"With only the Duke to serve and most of the house closed up, there's no need to keep on a full staff. I can manage well enough on my own with the help of Fyer and my granddaughter, Agitha," Impaz stated.

Zelda widened her eyes at this news. "It's just the three of you and the Duke who have traveled here? Surely he has a valet to see to his needs, as well."

"Even if he didn't value his privacy nearly above all else, the Duke has never deemed such an extravagance necessary."

"Well, I am most anxious to meet your employer and my savior. If for no other reason than to express my sincere gratitude," Zelda commented.

"If he decides to make your acquaintance, you may do so. In the mean time, I will be sure to pass along your appreciation of his hospitality." The finality of Impaz's tone brooked no further questioning and put an end to the discussion.

Impaz's evasive answers flummoxed Zelda. Why would the master of the house not want to meet with her? It was highly unorthodox. She consoled herself with the fact that despite his desire to the contrary, the solitary Duke would be obliged, by social etiquette and manners, to meet with her before she returned to Bo's care. And if he didn't take the necessary steps to do so, she would once she was feeling more herself.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

Shades and Shadows by Peter Gundry

The next day she felt well enough to try walking on her own. Zelda moved around the room, using the backs of chairs or the walls to maintain her balance. She noted the contrasting textures of the wallpaper’s smooth gold filigree and the softer green velvet as her fingers brushed along the surface. Her feet barely made a whisper with each step over the thick carpet. When she reached the tall, cherry wardrobe, Zelda paused to catch her breath. The hearth’s flickering fire reflected dully in the tarnished brass knobs and the lacquered wood.

She pulled open one of the doors and peered inside. The garments within had been pushed aside to make room for her own skirt, blouse and petticoats—all freshly laundered. Upon closer inspection, the other items were well-tailored attire—satin morning and day dresses, silk tea and evening gowns and accessories, cloaks and shawls to match. Were these Midna's garments stored here during off seasons? 

Zelda closed the doors with a quiet thunk and leaned her back against them to survey the room. The letter her father had received, delivering the terrible news, described how the wing of the mansion where the family slept had been engulfed in flames. Like most mansions, the guest wing would be on the opposite end of the home to allow privacy for the family and visitors.  It was plain to see, with the absence of any personal items to speak of other than the clothes, that this was a guest room. 

Now that she was more clear headed, it seemed vaguely familiar. A faded memory of visiting here the season after meeting Link; when she’d only been six. Being stuck inside on a rainy day and exploring his home. It had been the only time she’d visited Faron. Not long after that, her mother had been taken from her. Snatched from existence by the jaws of ravenous wolves. 

What had become of the wolf that had followed Zelda through the woods? The last vivid image she had before waking in this room was of it lunging toward her. Had the Duke chased it away or killed it? 

As Zelda continued to explore the room, her eyes fell upon a small writing desk wedged in a corner. She carefully made her way over.  Her legs grew shakier with each step, and she gratefully sat on the desk chair’s padded seat. Perhaps she could compose a letter, assuring everyone she was alive and well. Saved from being snuffed out in the same manner as her mother. Despite Impaz's assurances that everyone had been informed of her well-being, Shad, and her father most especially would be relieved once they had received actual word from her.

Pulling a pen and a stack of stationary from a cubby, she smoothed out the paper before reaching for the inkwell on the corner of the desk. However, when she unscrewed the cap, and dipped the pen, dry flakes littered the blotter upon removal. She set the items back in their respective places with a sigh. 

It was probably for the best, since a dull headache had bloomed in her temples from the mental and physical exertion of her brief exploration. Leaning her head against the back of the chair, she gazed at a landscape painting of a garden in full bloom hanging above the desk. 

Impaz found her still sitting there, dozing, when she came to check on Zelda. Her gentle admonishment for overdoing it effectively ended any further strenuous activity for the day.

—

By the third day, Zelda felt strong enough to take a bath. Impaz instructed the groundskeeper, Fyer, to bring in a copper tub. When he arrived with the requested item, his stooped posture let Zelda know immediately that the man she'd seen the other day could only have been the Duke. Fyer offered her a short bow, but said very little as he set the tub in front of the freshly stoked fire. His hangdog expression never varied as he carried in bucket after bucket of hot water to fill the basin. 

When the tub was over half-way filled, he tipped his purple felt bowling hat, bidding her good day. Once the door had closed behind him, Zelda removed her nightgown that was in desperate need of laundering. Slipping out of the bed, she settled into the steaming bath and sighed in contentment. The rejuvenating effects of the warm, rose-scented water was already easing the tension from her muscles.

She’d barely settled in when the bedroom door burst open and a whirlwind of a girl with blonde pigtails tied up with pink satin ribbons blew in. She gave a startled Zelda a brief curtsy before launching into speech.

“By the three, it’s an honor to have you here, Princess Zelda! I’m Agitha, Impaz’s granddaughter and she told me to assist you with your bath. Oh!” Agitha stopped short, hands fluttering at her sides when she belatedly noted Zelda was already immersed in the bath. “How’d you manage? Never you mind! Now, that I’m here, I can wash your hair!”

Without waiting for permission, Agitha moved to stand behind Zelda, buzzing about the crown of her head like a honey bee. She procured a wooden comb and a tin of lavender scented soap from the deep pocket of her apron and set about washing and combing Zelda’s hair. All the while keeping up a constant stream of conversation.

“Goodness, but your hair is a fright, if you pardon my saying so.” She tugged gently on Zelda’s hair, her nimble fingers massaging the dirt and grime away. “This is a real treat to have you here. Why, now that it’s clean, your hair is as lovely as a golden beetle’s thorax! I do so love beetles, ants, butterflies, and well, all sorts of bugs, really! Have you seen the arboretum yet?”

Zelda smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm. “No, but we have one at the castle that’s filled with all sorts of bugs. You’ll have to visit sometime.”

“Really?” Agitha’s squeal rang in Zelda’s ears. “I could just tell when the Duke carried you in that you’d be nice. He’s an old sour puss and told me not to bother you, but grandma said now that you are feeling better it’d be all right if I promised to be as quiet as a mouse.”  

Zelda smothered a giggle. “I had a friend once who used to call me Mouse,” she reflected, surprised that the memory didn’t cause her heart to ache quite as much as it used to. It felt good to laugh, and the girl’s enthusiasm was infectious. “But, I'll let you in on a little secret. I wasn’t very quiet either.”

Agitha’s hands stilled in Zelda’s hair and she stood on her tiptoes to look down at her. Her warm, brown  eyes blinked back at Zelda and she grinned when she saw Zelda’s good humor. Dropping on her heels, Agitha resumed her work.  

She picked up the thread of her one-sided conversation and was lamenting over the early onset of winter and the still raging blizzard keeping them cooped up indoors, when Impaz returned. 

“Agitha, you’ll wear the princess out with your incessant prattle.” She shooed Agitha away, ordering her to retrieve Zelda’s dress and a hair clip from the wardrobe.

Wrapped in a fresh dressing gown, Zelda sat by the fire and absently ran her fingers through her long, damp locks.

“Here, dearie, allow me.” Impaz began braiding Zelda’s hair, her aged fingers remarkably deft.

Closing her eyes, Zelda enjoyed the gentle tug on her scalp as Impaz wove her hair into an intricate pattern. She secured the braid at the nape of her neck with a diamond and onyx clip Agitha handed her. 

When Zelda opened her eyes, Impaz pointed toward the bed where Agitha had laid out her walking skirt and blouse. “You’ll need more than this set of day clothes while you are here. There’s currently not a lady of the house, so I hope you won’t mind if we alter a few of Duchess Midna’s dresses, and spruce them up a bit in the process.” 

The thought had never occurred to Zelda as to what she’d wear. She supposed the nightgown must have been Midna’s, as well. It would be strange to wear her clothes, as if her ghost was lingering in Zelda’s shadow, but Impaz made a valid point. Zelda had already been here nearly a week, and while she was feeling better, she wasn’t in any condition to travel. Not until the storm abated, which, from the way it was still steadily falling, seemed to be for a few more days, at least.

“Thank you, I appreciate your candor and consideration.” 

As they helped her dress, Zelda reflected on her thoughts from the previous day. How much of the mansion remained? Would her mysterious benefactor, the Duke, ever make her acquaintance? She was feeling stronger and more energetic. A short walk might do her good. Agitha's complaint of being stuck indoors sprang to mind. They couldn’t expect her to be content remaining in this room for the duration of her stay.

“Agitha mentioned an arboretum. Would it be possible to see the rest of the house?”

Impaz hesitated a moment as she considered the request. Her eyes flicked to meet Agitha’s before returning to look Zelda over. “You seem a bit stronger today. I suppose it would be all right.”

Agitha’s pigtails quivered when she clapped her hands together and smiled broadly. “Oh, Princess, it’s simply marvelous this year. The Duke  allows me to cultivate it as I wish. I managed to hatch butterflies for the first time just a few days ago!”

“Yes, yes, but the halls leading there are drafty. Fetch a shawl for the Princess to wear over her dress,” Impaz ordered.

Agitha scurried back to the wardrobe and retrieved a black velvet wrapper. By the time Zelda had put it and the matching satin slippers on, she was more anxious than ever to explore. She was surprised to hear the arboretum had plants that were flourishing. How was that possible if no one had lived here in years to properly tend to them?

She took Impaz’s arm, and they followed Agitha out into the dimly lit corridor. The only light came from a window at the end of the hall. It spilled over a thick burgundy runner leading toward a set of gilded doors. Landscape paintings in golden frames lined the cream-papered walls between brass sconces. They passed several closed doors on either side that Zelda assumed contained other staterooms similar to her own.  The double doors at the end of the hall creaked loudly, a sound hinges that had not been used in some time made, when Agitha flung them open.

Shivering, Zelda pulled the wrap closer about her as they stepped out onto a wide circular landing of a grand staircase. The open space was considerably chillier. The stairs led to cavernous foyer with a crystal chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Her throat tightened at the sight of the closed doors on the opposite side of the landing. Scorch marks outlined the warped wood, and deep cracks marred the varnish of the filigreed embellishments. She tore her eyes away only for them to fall upon gold brocade curtains pulled closed over what she knew to be a family portrait.

It hung, like a shrouded sentinel, on the center wall of the landing. She’d never seen it but remembered Link complaining about having to stand for hours while the artist, known for his realistic renderings, captured their likenesses.

She forced herself to walk the few paces to stand in front it. Reaching for a gold braided rope hanging to the side, she glanced at Impaz. “May I?”

Impaz nodded. Her expression was as solemn as Zelda’s when the curtains swished back to reveal the portrait.

Midna, clad in an elegant teal evening gown with black lace, sat on a plush wing chair. Dressed in their evening attire, Ordona and Link stood just behind her on either side. Ordona’s face was a study in astute seriousness. His hand placed upon Midna's shoulder, covered by her own, the only thing giving away the deep affection he held for his wife. Link’s blue eyes appeared to be contemplative, but the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth indicated he was merely humoring his parents—playing the role of solemn son. Midna wore a matching smile, and the cunning glint in her golden eyes hinted that she knew his secret.

Natural light from a large arched window above the front doors below highlighted their features, creating the illusion that they could come to life at any moment. 

Zelda’s heart ached gazing up at the painting. Golden three, how she yearned for days long past. If only she had the power to turn back time.

“Isn’t it a splendid painting?” Agitha inquired. Her voice broke the spell the picture had cast over Zelda. “The Duke hates it. He scolds me every time he catches me looking at it. He’s such a bore.”

Impaz shot a sharp, reprimanding look at Agitha. “Agitha, remember your place. It is rude to speak ill of the Duke in front of our guest. We couldn’t ask for a kinder employer.” 

Agitha bowed her head, her cheeks flushing a pale pink as she mumbled a half-hearted apology. She shoved her hands deep in the pockets of her pale blue pinafore, her lips turned down in a dissatisfied pout.

“Shall we continue to the arboretum?” Impaz asked, swiftly closing the curtains with a few hard tugs on the cord.

Zelda nodded, grateful for a distraction. Gripping the smooth wood banister she admired the iron balusters, crafted to resemble vines and leaves, to further take her mind off the painting. At the bottom, there was another set of buckled doors to the right, closing off the ruined half of the estate. Impaz paid them no heed and turned left toward a long hallway lined with archways leading to various rooms. 

They passed a cozy sitting room designed to receive guests. At least, Zelda recalled it being cozy and inviting. Its plump settees and armchairs were covered by drop cloths, and the marble fireplace sat cold and empty. From the amount of dust accumulated on the surfaces, it was clear the room hadn’t been used for entertaining in some time.

Further down the hall lay a formal dining room, but its long table and chairs were draped with cloths, as well. The silhouette of a  grand piano sat at the edge of a parquet dance floor. Turquoise velvet curtains, covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dust, limply framed tall arched windows that looked out onto a broad marble terrace.

“Where does the Duke take his meals?” she asked Impaz as they walked by the lonely rooms where only the ghosts of faded memories resided.

Impaz smiled at the question. “In the kitchen with us.”

Of course. Why would a hermit want to eat in a cold, drafty dining room meant for twenty guests or more?

The only room that looked to be used on a regular basis was a library. Three of its four walls contained floor to ceiling shelves lined with books. Two armchairs and a long settee were situated in front of a brick fireplace where the dying embers of a recent fire glowed. A square pianoforte sat by a window overlooking a neglected hedge maze.  

An oppressive stillness hung in the air of the long corridor which finally opened up into a sunken hall with a slate floor. A dry fountain, its empty basin chipped in places along the edges, sat at the center. Beyond the fountain was a wall of steamy windows. Through the fog, Zelda glimpsed a patchwork of green.

Agitha perked up considerably, eager to reveal what lay beyond, and hurried to a door at the center of the glass wall. She flung the door open. A rush of warm, damp air carrying with it the pungent scent of rich soil greeted them. Zelda stepped through the domed enclosure, only to pause just inside the entrance. The tops of tall exotic trees with large flat leaves brushed the roof. At their bases, waxy flowers added a splash of red, purple and white against the dark soil they had sprung from. Zelda drank it in, marveling at all the flora alive and flourishing despite the winter storm blowing outside the glass enclosure. Just as Agitha had promised, black and orange butterflies fluttered through the air, moving from flower to flower. It may be on a smaller scale, but it rivaled Hyrule Castle’s large central atrium.

“It’s breathtaking.” Tilting her chin toward the ceiling, Zelda breathed in more of the fragrant air. Whether from the sudden warmth or the exertion of the walk, a wave of dizziness washed over her. She swayed on her feet and pressed her fingers against her forehead. “I’m afraid I may have overdone it.”

“Perhaps you would like to have your tea brought here?” Impaz suggested, taking her arm to steady her. “There are benches at the center, not far from here, where you could rest and enjoy the view.” She gestured to a gravel path that wound out of sight through the foliage before turning to Agitha. “Go prepare the tea service for Princess Zelda.”

“But I wanted to show her my bug collection.” Agitha frowned.

“You’ve pestered the princess enough for one day. Be a good girl, and do as you’re told,” Impaz firmly ordered.

Giving Zelda a half-hearted curtsy, Agitha turned on the heels of her doll shoes and skipped out of the arboretum.

With a shake of her head, Impaz guided Zelda along the path. “My apologies for her impetuousness.”

“No apologies are necessary,” Zelda assured her. “She is a darling girl.”

Impaz’s eyes shone with pride at the praise, and she smiled. They walked on in comfortable silence, and soon arrived at the center of the arboretum. It was an open area with four benches—two pairs flanking the entrance and exit. A functioning three-tiered concrete fountain sat at the center. Zelda sank onto the nearest bench with a sigh of relief.

“I’ll return shortly with the tea.” Impaz inclined her head and retreated, leaving Zelda to her solitude. 

Leaning against the back of the bench carved with a leaf motif, she closed her eyes. The humidity of the arboretum was warm and refreshing after the chilly hallways. She relished the quiet rustle of the trees and the soothing cadence of water trickling into the fountain’s scalloped-edged basins. If she tried hard enough, she could almost pretend she was back home in the castle enjoying a lazy spring afternoon. 

There was a faint prickle on the back of her hand, and opening her eyes, Zelda saw that a butterfly had alighted there. Serenely opening and closing its orange and black speckled wings, it paid her no mind. Its wings nearly spanned her entire hand, and its antennae delicately quivered. She marveled at the perfection of its wings, the pattern symmetrical down to the minutest of detail.

A shadow falling over her hand accompanied by a softly clearing throat startled her out of the inspection. The butterfly took flight. Ordinarily she would have watched it fly away, but the tall gentleman standing beside the water fountain captured her attention entirely.

He cut an imposing figure, dressed in black, a stark contrast against the green foliage surrounding them. She recognized him as the man she’d seen walking in the snow the other day. One piercing blue eye studied her with unsettling intensity. An eye patch peeked through waves of sandy hair, strategically falling just past his jaw to conceal the left half of his face.

At first she thought he was her long-lost friend, returned from the dead. She could almost believe it, if not for the way the corners of his mouth dipped. Link would have smiled in that mischievous way of his after startling her. Oh, how he’d loved to tease her at every opportunity. This man, with one brooding eye and rigid posture, was far removed from the carefree frivolity Link had possessed. 

She sat frozen in his stare, like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s snare.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the gardens today.” There was a slight edge to his baritone voice, which otherwise would have been pleasing to the ear. Agitha’s earlier comment made perfect sense. But boring didn’t come to Zelda’s mind. Intimidating did.

He didn’t look happy to find her here. Had he intended to never make her acquaintance while she was a guest at Faron Grove Hall?

“May I assume you are the Duke of Faron?” 

“You may.” His smile, what she could see of it, was forced. He sounded weary, and an almost wounded look appeared in his eye. 

“I owe you a debt of gratitude. Thank you for caring for me and sheltering me from the storm,” she said.

“It was foolish of you to stray so far into the woods alone,” he replied curtly. 

“Of course, you are correct.” She found his rudeness off-putting but, recalling Impaz's comment that he preferred the company of no one, tried not to take offense. Smiling warmly, she gestured to the empty space beside her. “Impaz will be returning momentarily with tea. Would you care to join me?”

He hesitated, a flicker of indecision crossing his features before smoothing back into a mask of indifference. After another moment of deliberation, he relented with a short nod, taking the seat next to her. Resting his hands flat on his thighs, the stiffness in his posture betrayed his discomfort. The tension between them was nearly palpable.

Many years of etiquette lessons had taught Zelda how to carry conversations and make guests feel welcome. While it was odd that she was the one that needed to make such an effort when this was his home, she endeavored to try her best to be polite and put him at ease. 

“You have a lovely home.”

“It serves its purpose well enough,” he answered tersely, not bothering to look at her. Instead, his gaze followed the butterflies weaving through the air.

There was a mysterious air about him that intrigued her, despite his very palpable standoffishness. The stranger she’d encountered at her engagement party flashed in her mind. She seemed to recall he had been of a similar height and build to the Duke of Faron. He, too, had drawn her in with nothing more than his presence.

“Were you, by any chance, in attendance at my garden party?” 

To her surprise, he snorted. “I’m sure you are already aware I don’t engage in social occasions, Princess. I sent my kindest regards and declined the invitation.”

Despite his denial, she couldn’t help the feeling of familiarity creeping over her.

“Forgive me, but I can’t help feeling we have met before. If not my party, perhaps somewhere else.” 

“You’ve never had the misfortune of making my acquaintance until now.” There was no mistaking the bitterness coloring his statement.

Before she could reply, the rattle of a cart being pushed along the path alerted them both that Impaz had returned. She didn’t bother hiding her pleasure when she saw the Duke sitting beside Zelda. She placed the cart, holding the same delicate tea service Zelda had used every day since her arrival, to serve as a table. If Impaz noticed the tension between them, she made no comment. She offered Zelda an encouraging smile when she caught her eye, and went about serving them. 

Zelda noted how Impaz raised an eyebrow in silent question at the Duke when she handed him a cup. It appeared to have the desired effect as the rigidity of his shoulders relaxed somewhat. At least, until Impaz clucked her approval and he shot her a piercing look. 

Unfazed, Impaz merely chuckled. “If that will be all, Your Grace?”

“It most certainly will, Impaz,” he stated firmly. His gaze lingered on the retreating figure of the housekeeper before turning back to the cup of tea in his hand. 

The hair obscuring the left side of his face fell forward slightly when he reached for the sugar bowl, giving Zelda a glimpse of uneven patches of mottled skin on his otherwise smooth brow. She tried to see more but, after dropping three cubes in his cup, he settled back into his seat so only the profile of his straight nose and strong jawline were visible. She found herself mesmerized. His resemblance to the late duke was uncanny, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was how Link would have looked once he had matured.

Noticing her stare, his lips thinned into a hard line. “What are you looking at?” 

"My apologies, Your Grace. It's just that, you remind me so much of your cousin, Link."

Zelda regretted voicing her thoughts aloud. She hadn’t believed his expression could turn any stormier than it already was, yet she found herself staring into a vortex of acrimony.

“You mean the reckless boy who caused the death of his parents and nearly destroyed this ‘lovely home’, as you so politely describe it, with his carelessness?” he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

“I assure you, you are mistaken. He was far from thoughtless,” she insisted, keeping her voice even and firm despite how his fierce glare made her tremble.

“Then you are as foolish as he was. I would prefer it if we did not speak of my late relations.” His tone, as cold and unyielding as the winter wind, effectively closed the door on further discussion.

Hoping to smooth things over, Zelda put her best foot forward. “Of course, my apologies for overstepping.”

He didn’t deign to respond further, his focus unseeing on a distant point. A painful silence fell, amplifying the awkwardness of the moment. They sipped their tea, the tension once again hanging heavily in the air between them. Zelda’s hand trembled when she set her cup back in the saucer. Its soft clatter drew the Duke out of the brooding trance he’d fallen into.

He gestured with his gloved left hand toward the artful display of sandwiches and petit fours. “You are still recovering. Impaz will scold me if you don’t eat.” 

Zelda resisted the urge to question the incongruity of that statement or his sudden, half-hearted attempt at hospitality. Acutely aware that he was watching her, she obliged him by selecting a couple of sandwiches and a chocolate tart. It was only after she took a perfunctory bite of one of the sandwiches, filled with a creamy herb goat cheese, that he filled his plate with a few of the delicacies. His attention drifted back to observe the garden. 

As she nibbled on a tart, savoring the rich, velvety flavor of the chocolate on her palate, Zelda turned over possible topics of conversation that wouldn't further alienate him. He hadn’t appreciated the compliment regarding the house, nor her keen observation of familial resemblances. Her eyes roamed the room, looking for something to spark inspiration. The glimpse of the snowy landscape, beneath a gunmetal sky, made the choice easy. Discussing the weather was a universally safe subject.

“Does it always snow this much?” she ventured.

He followed her line of sight, his shoulders tensing beneath the fine wool of his jacket. A half-eaten sandwich slipped from his fingers to drop unceremoniously on his porcelain plate. His gloved hand trembled slightly as he pulled a silver pocket watch from his emerald brocade waistcoat with. Flipping open the cover, the blood drained from his face, already as pale as moonlight, when he glanced at the time. He snapped it shut with a sharp click and rose so abruptly his hip bumped the cart, rattling the plates and dishes upon it.

“I must take my leave,” he declared in a clipped tone. "If you’ll excuse me."

Without offering the slightest bow, he purposefully strode away, vanishing as quickly as he’d emerged from the shadows. Flabbergasted, she stared after him—her heart thumping with embarrassment, confusion, and of all things, longing. In some ways he'd reminded her of Link—the shape of his shoulders, the bitter quirk at the corners of his lips that could very easily turn into a familiar smile, and most peculiar of all, the hint of expectation she'd glimpsed in his blue eye when he first arrived— but she couldn't imagine him growing into such a brooding, solitary man.

She watched the swiftly darkening sky and listened to the wind rattling the glass panes of the arboretum. The remnants of her tart and tea remained untouched as the shadows deepened and twilight fell, casting a somber hue over the room. Even in this warm space filled with colorful plants and flowers, a deep sense of loneliness lingered in the wake of the Duke's sudden departure.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

The English Affair by Howard Harper-Barnes

Zelda couldn’t stop thinking about the Duke. The way he had bristled at nearly everything she had said, his expression like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. His cold, distant demeanor had been like a wall of ice—thick and impenetrable. She recalled his disdainful scoff when she had innocently inquired if they had met before. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that their paths had indeed crossed at some point in their lives. Her instincts told her he was the mysterious cloaked stranger she had glimpsed at her garden party, despite his firm denial. 

When she had asked Impaz about it later, the older woman had dismissed the question with a casual wave of her hand, insisting the likelihood was slim since the Duke rarely ventured beyond the confines of the estate when he visited. Clearly, the night of her rescue had been one of those rare instances, since if not for him, Zelda wouldn’t be here to follow the line of inquiry. Upon mentioning that fact, a shuttered look had crossed over Impaz’s face, and Zelda was certain the woman was withholding part of the truth. Impaz’s refusal to delve deeper into the topic only served to fuel Zelda’s curiosity.

There was more to the story, she was certain of it. What had transpired to bring the Duke of Faron to remain hidden from the world outside, and refrain from making the fact known he had returned to stay from abroad? She could only hope if he deigned to spend more time with her, she could somehow break through his gruff exterior and unlock some of the secrets he guarded so closely. 

The first light of dawn, filtering through the heavy drapes, woke her the next morning with a burgeoning desire to explore the mansion. Not wanting to wait for Impaz or Agitha to assist her, Zelda selected a navy and silver jacquard morning dress from the wardrobe. It had been altered and fit her willowy frame snugly. By the time she finished dressing, she was disappointed to find she was slightly winded. Her current state left much to be desired for independent exploration. 

If Zelda recalled correctly, Midna had suffered from photosensitivity and always carried a parasol when walking in the sun-drenched castle gardens. With that thought in mind, she searched deeper in the wardrobe and found one she could lean on if fatigue began to set in. 

Perching on the edge of the bed, she deftly wove her hair in a loose braid and secured it with a velvet ribbon she’d discovered among the assorted accessories in the wardrobe drawers. She thought its cool pewter color complimented her dress and auburn hair, but there wasn’t a mirror in the room to check her appearance. Hopefully, she’d done a fair enough job making herself presentable if she happened to encounter the Duke.

The mere thought of him caused her stomach to flutter with nervous energy, as if the butterflies in the arboretum had made their home there. He had been so austere yesterday. She needed to come up with an arsenal of topics she could broach that wouldn't illicit an adverse reaction from him.

Zelda picked up her makeshift walking stick and ventured out into the hallway. As it had been yesterday, all the doors on either side were shut. Her curiosity flared once more. Setting the problem of conversing with the Duke aside, she crossed to the door opposite her own

The knob resisted when she twisted it but eventually gave beneath her palm. She pushed the it open, wincing when the hinges creaked from misuse.

Pausing in the doorway, she checked that no one was approaching down the hall before stepping inside. The room lay still and silent.

Like most of the rooms on the first floor, it held the same air of neglect. Once white sheets, now gray with dust, covered all the furniture. Faded floral wallpaper peeled at the edges.

The once vibrant blue curtains hung limply from a tarnished brass rod. They looked as if they hadn't been touched since they been pulled closed, blocking out every speck of natural light. Cobwebs clung high in the corners and draped the chandelier like a somber holiday garland. 

Every bedroom she checked on her way to the main foyer shared the same air of abandonment, mirroring the hushed rooms she’d seen yesterday. Perplexed, she closed the last door with a soft thunk. Had they rushed to prepare a room for her upon her unexpected arrival? And where was the Duke’s stateroom if not in this wing of the house? 

Stepping out onto the circular landing, Zelda cast a wary glance at the warped doors standing ominously across the way. What would she find if she opened them?

She focused on her goal and only spared the curtains covering the family portrait a brief glance as she passed by it. Upon reaching the doors, she grasped an iron knob. It was like ice beneath her palm. Just as she was about to twist it, a gust of cold air blew up the stairs, and the crystal pendants of the chandelier softly chimed.

“Don’t open that door!”

The Duke of Faron’s voice reverberated through the expansive foyer, bouncing off the vaulted ceiling. Zelda pulled her hand back, her heart skipping a beat.

She spun to face him. He stood at the foot of the grand staircase, hand gripping the banister and one foot on the bottom step, as if he’d been about to race up the stairs. A dusting of snow on his shoulders was slowly melting, dripping down the front of his gray overcoat. 

What showed no signs of thawing was his icy glare piercing through her. “Do you often make a habit of wandering about where you don’t belong?” he inquired in a tone as cold and frigid as how he looked.

Tamping down her nervousness, she gathered her skirts and slowly descended the stairs. When she reached the step above where he stood, she stopped. Taking a steadying breath through her nostrils, she dared to look him in the eye before answering.

“I wasn't made aware that part of the house was off-limits.” Zelda kept her voice level and calm, a skill she honed over countless hours listening and granting petitions to the court. 

“Consider yourself informed," he firmly stated. "Don’t enter the closed off wing of the mansion. It's dangerous. Unstable."

“I appreciate your concern for my well-being,” she answered, refusing to allow his bluntness to chip away at her resolve. 

“You’re the heir apparent. I would be remiss if I allowed anything to happen to you.” He shoved a hand into his coat pocket and, after a moment of searching, withdrew a rolled-up parchment. “My hawk returned with a letter addressed to you.”

She recognized Shad’s handwriting immediately, the crisp, orderly lines were unmistakable. A pang of guilt rippled through her. The curious desire that had taken hold of her upon meeting the Duke of Faron had driven all thought of Shad from her mind. 

"It's from my fiancé, Shad."

A grunt was the Duke's only response as he extended the missive to her. Accepting the letter from him, her fingers brushed against his in the process. A soft gasp of surprise escaped her when a spark of heat flared between them.

He snatched his hand back as if burned, and took a step back, gesturing vaguely down the hall. “There’s stationary and fresh ink in the library should you wish to pen an immediate response.”

“Thank you.” Zelda curled her still tingling fingers around the letter and folded her hands in front of her. It must have been a static shock from the friction of cold soles against the woolen carpet.

With a quiet, irritated huff, the Duke turned on his heel to head beneath the recesses of the stairs.

Following after him, Zelda looked past the intricately carved newel post toward where the he retreated. It was more like thundering with the way his footsteps echoed on the utilitarian flagstone of a narrow corridor hidden beneath the stairs. No doubt this was where the kitchen, laundry, and servants’ quarters were located.

Impaz stepped out of a door at the end as he passed, and greeted him. He paused long enough to curtly address her with a few sharp gestures emphasizing whatever point he was making before continuing on his way and to disappear around the corner. She stared after him a moment longer before shaking her head, and turning away.

Instantly spotting Zelda, her dismayed look melted into a smile and she hurried toward her with a much lighter stride than that of her employer.

“It’s good to see you up and about on your own, dearie, but you should have rung for me,” Impaz scolded, the twinkle in her eyes softening the reprimand. 

Zelda glanced down the corridor, absently tracing her thumb over the fingertips that had brushed against the Duke’s. “I seem to have upset him.”

Impaz brushed off her statement with a wave of her hand. “Never you mind him. He didn’t have a restful night’s sleep and is more out of sorts than usual. You didn’t do anything wrong, dearie." She nodded to the unopened letter in Zelda's hand. "I assume you would like to read your letter and send a reply as swiftly as possible?”

“Yes, I think I should,” Zelda agreed, forcing her mind back to the present. 

“Let me show you to the library. You’ll find what you need there and can begin while I fetch your breakfast. I was just putting a fresh loaf of bread in the oven.” Impaz wiped her hands on her apron where faint traces of flour still remained.

“Oh, I remember where it is, Impaz. No need to trouble yourself,” Zelda said, recalling the one room she’d seen, other than her own, that appeared to be lived in.

“I insist,” Impaz replied firmly and headed down the hall toward the arboretum.

Zelda had the distinct impression Impaz was reluctant to leave her unattended. Either that, or the Duke had just instructed her to ensure Zelda did not wander off on her own again.

When they reached the library, a fresh fire blazed in the hearth. Just inside the arched doorway sat a claw-footed secretary with gold-leaf inlays. A fresh inkpot and steel pen sat beside a pile of stationary.

Impaz indicated Zelda should take a seat in the carved desk chair. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Thanking her, Zelda pulled out the chair and settled on the cushioned seat. Unrolling the parchment revealed a short letter in Shad’s meticulous neat script. His words conveyed his heartfelt relief that she was safe and sound, but it troubled him that she was at the mercy of a complete stranger.

He counseled her to be careful and ever vigilant. Efforts were underway to clear the path, but the work was proving arduous with little progress to show for their labor due to the relentless storm. He concluded the letter by requesting her to reply as soon as possible to help alleviate his concerns for her well-being.

Zelda placed the letter on the desk and pulled a piece of paper off the pile. Dipping the pen in the inkpot, she began composing a reply.

She assured him of her safety and that all was well, but even as she writing, her thoughts continued to drift. The two encounters she’d had thus far with the Duke only left her with more questions.

His enigmatic nature had captivated her, stirring something within her. She frowned, unsure what exactly it was that drew her to him. His cold demeanor should have been a deterrent, and she surmised that was his intent. It only served to pique her interest further and the need to discover what secrets lay hidden behind his icy stare.

Signing her name, she blew on the ink to hasten its drying and quickly scanned what she’d written. Zelda was just sealing the letter with a stamp and wax she'd found when Impaz returned with a cart laden with breakfast. She arranged it on a table closer to the fireplace and took the letter, promising it would be sent post haste.

After eating her fill, Zelda poured herself a fresh cup of tea and left it to cool as she walked along the shelves lining the walls in search of a book to read. They were filled with all manner of subjects—literary works, history, geography, math and science, religion, music, art, and technology. 

Standing in front of a bookshelf, Zelda ran her finger along the spines, reading the titles. Some she recognized, but there were quite a few science and historical texts, surprisingly enough, she didn’t.

They weren’t categorized in any order, and she surmised they were placed on the shelf as they were acquired without any thought as to the subject matter. A book of recipes sat next to a thick essay on theology. There were books from other countries, as well, all written in their native languages. The History of Twili, Lorulean Magicks, a book of sea shanties from the Koholint Islands, and one entitled Termina Masks: Myth or Legend. 

When she came across one of her favorite literary novels, she tipped it from between the others and pulled it off the shelf. The leather spine softly cracked when she opened the book, a sign it had never been read. She flipped through the stiff pages, the gilded gold edges shimmering in the firelight.

At the center of the book were a series of lithograph prints. Her favorite had always been one of the princess standing on an ivy-covered balcony looking down at her faithful knight. Zelda used to fancy herself the girl with golden hair and a beatific smile, even if she looked nothing like her. 

The abject adoration on the knight’s chiseled face had made her swoon when she was a girl. Link had teased her incessantly any time he caught her staring dreamily at the picture. Now that she was older, she understood how silly it was. Fairy tales never accurately depicted reality. 

A soft tread of footsteps in the hall drew Zelda’s attention to the doorway. Her heart quickened when she saw the Duke, wearing a dark brown frock coat and trousers, hovering at the threshold. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his expression was as blank a slate as it had been earlier. 

“D-Duke,” she stammered, quickly closing the book on the image. Why she felt the need to do so, she couldn’t say. 

“Princess Zelda,” he paused, searching for the right words to say. After a moment of thought, he settled on a decision and entered the room. “I came to offer my apologies for my churlish behavior earlier. I have spent so much time in solitude, I’ve forgotten how to interact with others.”

She widened her eyes, feeling a rush of surprise at the unexpected apology. Her heart fluttered when she looked at him and noted the hard edges had softened somewhat. “I appreciate that, Your Grace.”

He stiffly nodded at the book in her hand. “Did you find something to your liking?”

Zelda gripped the book tightly, the leather smooth beneath her fingertips. “Yes. You’ve quite the extensive library. It must have taken years to cultivate.”

Tugging at his camel-striped waistcoat, he moved to stand beside her in front of the bookcase. Zelda noted how the neatly knotted dark blue cravat tucked into the vest matched the deep color of his eye.

His expression turned distant, almost melancholic. “I have found that the pictures the words paint help keep the harshness of reality at bay. It makes living…tolerable.”

His admission struck a chord within her. How many times had she lost herself within the pages of a book? It was the entire reason she had chosen to study library science. The peaceful quiet of the stacks, surrounded by thousands of books on every subject imaginable, the musty smell of paper and leather. She’d been able to forget, if only for a moment.

Zelda dared to glance at him while he studied the spines. Her gaze lingered on the angry edges of scars she could see marring his left cheek. They disappeared beneath the eye patch. His thick hair covered the thin strap keeping it in place, and like yesterday, was arranged in a fashion to hide most of his disfigurement. Was it the reality he wished to run away from?

“I understand the power of the printed word,” she said, averting her eyes before he caught her staring. “If you like, I could organize and catalog your library while I’m here.”

He turned to face her. What looked like a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but didn’t take root. “I’m afraid these shelves are a reflection of my mind, Princess—chaotic and wretched. It would be no small undertaking to sort out.” 

“From what I’ve gathered, it would seem I may be here for a few more days, at least. I can’t speak for your mind, but I’m sure I can bring order to your unruly collection. It’s the least I could do to repay you for your hospitality,” Zelda pressed, returning the book in her hand to the shelf. 

The Duke regarded her with a contemplative expression that quickened her pulse. The notion that he may refuse her offer stirred up an intense longing within her. A flush bloomed on her cheeks. She blamed the lingering effect of her concussion on the alien feeling.

After a moment, he offered her a subtle nod. “Very well. If you’re willing to take on such a momentous task.” He split his focus to survey the floor to ceiling shelves lining the walls. His sight landed on the sliding ladder at the end of one of the shelves. “But I fear you may overexert yourself climbing up and down the ladder with an armful of books. We can’t afford having you fall and hit your head again.”

“Perhaps, you could assist me then?” she asked, even as another silent question of why she was so drawn to him flitted at the edges of her thoughts. Surely it wasn’t merely because of his aloof and rigid manner.

"Hmmm." Mulling the request over, he turned to gauge the sincerity of her offer. His blue gaze was as contemplative as a deep reflection pool, and caused her heart to hammer beneath her breast. It pounded so loudly in her ears, surely he could hear it.

She hurried on to conceal how much his regard unsettled her. “Since the collection means so much to you.” 

It took him longer to respond this time and Zelda feared she had pressed him too much. To her surprise the slight smile that his lips had hinted at earlier returned, and this time remained. “I think I would like that.”

“Well then,”—she surveyed the bookshelf—“there’s no time like the present. Shall we begin with this shelf?”

With a short nod of assent, he climbed the ladder and began removing the books from the upper shelves.

Smiling to herself, Zelda knelt at the opposite end and did the same. As they worked, she stole glances at him. His resemblance to Link was uncanny, at least from what she pictured in her mind’s eye of what he may look like now. He’d be twenty-five. The Duke looked as if he may be older, but it was difficult to say. She'd consider him handsome if not for his flinty demeanor.

After they’d cleared the bookcase, the state of the room reflected the Duke's earlier sentiment in regard to chaos. Zelda pulled a face, taking in the stacks of books on the table and nearly every other surface of the room. It was only one of nine floor-to-ceiling cases to be emptied.  

“This is quite enough for now, I think," Zelda announced. "I suggest we sort through this batch, placing them in their appropriate categories, before we go further." She picked up a stack of books off the piano bench and glanced around the room for somewhere else to place them. "If only we had a proper cart to set them on so as not to clutter up all the furniture.”

"A clutter free space? Why? Were you expecting there to be evening entertainment in the form of drinks, games and music, Princess?” He took the books from her and dropped them back on the piano bench with a loud thud.

“No, I…no,” Zelda faltered, irritated with herself for seeing the need to make excuses for an off-hand comment. 

He softly chuckled. She snapped her head up to find him observing her with a faint smile, an unmistakable teasing look in his eye.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, and flustered didn’t begin to describe the way her chest tightened and her limbs trembled. It unnerved her how one look could trigger a flood of emotion she was trying so hard to bury. How many times had Link gazed at her in such a similar fashion? She swayed, reaching toward the table for support.

The amusement left the Duke’s face, replaced by concern, and he was at her elbow in an instant. “This was a mistake.”

Did he mean spending time with her, or dropping his guard, if only for a moment? “No, I’m fine. I’m not ready to stop quite yet.” She waved him off, attempting to straighten, but her body continued to shiver. 

It didn’t escape the Duke’s notice. “You’re pale. You should take a break and continue this task another time.” He lightly touched her elbow and guided her to an empty chair. Once he was sure she was settled, he went to the secretary and gave the bell pull a sharp tug. “Impaz can see you safely back to your room to rest.”

Disappointment bloomed within Zelda, causing her stomach to clench. She wasn’t ready for the brief time they had spent together to end so abruptly. She’d barely begun to break the ice between them. “You’re not staying?” 

“There is other estate business I must attend to,” he stated, the levity dropping to be replaced once more by stony indifference. With a curt nod, conveying finality, he strode swiftly from the room before she could ask him to stay.

Zelda fixated on the place where his tall frame had been standing in the arched doorway. She took some comfort in the fact that the time they had shared working together on a joint task had been pleasant. She supposed it was a small improvement and a step closer to bridging the gap that still remained between them. If only she hadn't lapsed, seeing a ghost in him simply because he'd given her a warm look.

Impaz appeared in the space the Duke had recently vacated. Her brows knitted together when she saw Zelda reclining in the chair. “The Duke informs me you’ve grown weary?” she asked.

“His concerns are unwarranted.” Zelda placed her hands on the arms to push herself to her feet. “I’m fine.”

Impaz hummed, taking in the state of the room, the question apparent on her face. “It looks as if you were busy.”

Zelda’s head spun, faint traces of her earlier vertigo still lingering when she stood. She gripped the back of the chair to steady herself. “I suppose I may have over did it a bit,” she admitted and allowed Impaz to take her arm and lead her toward the door. “I offered to organize the library. He appeared to appreciate the effort.”

“I’m sure he does even if he doesn’t readily show it,” Impaz assured her.

“Yes,” Zelda mused. There was something crucial she was missing, she was certain of it. His brief thawing was a mystery. “I hope so. There’s something about him…I can’t quite put my finger on it. I thought he was warming to my presence, but then the shutters fell once more. Is he always so inconstant?”

“The Duke has his reasons for keeping to himself, Princess.” Impaz stated as she guided Zelda up the stairs. Her expression turned thoughtful. “But I will say it’s been some time since he’s had a purpose.” 

“A purpose,” Zelda repeated, turning the remark over in her mind. As in her? She’d ask for clarification, but in her short time here, she’d quickly learned Impaz made a habit of parsing out her answers. That she had given Zelda this much was surprising.

What purpose did her unexpected arrival here give the Duke, other than to ensure she recovered and returned to the village? His sudden apologies and flickers of warmth beneath his icy veneer were perplexing. Did he react this way to anyone he encountered outside his small household staff?

No matter how she rearranged all the pieces of the puzzle, nothing gave her a clear picture of the enigmatic man. She would need to gather information and hope that Impaz would continue imparting further clarification of their daily life. 

Despite her protestations to the contrary, by the time they reached the door to her room, Zelda was ready to lie down for the remainder of the afternoon. Impaz left her tucked into bed, and before long Zelda dozed off, still turning the unanswered questions over in her mind.

By early evening, she had regained enough energy to make her way back to the library. She hoped the Duke would be waiting for her there, ready to continue the work they had begun earlier or to spend the evening reading by the fire.

Her soft laugh echoed in the long hallway, having amused herself with her runaway thoughts. As if it were already a certainty that the Duke would want to spend all his free time with her. That realization gave her pause. When was the last time she had felt a pull she was helpless to resist? 

Light spilled from the library door, bright and inviting, accompanied by the faint strains of the pianoforte. Her breath caught in her chest, and Zelda quickened her pace. Perhaps he had truly meant it when he teased her about evening entertainment.

However, it wasn't the Duke she found waiting for her. Agitha sat on the cleared bench before the piano, leaning forward to read the sheet music propped on the stand. Her fingers danced over the keys, playing a lively galliard. She stopped playing to glance over her shoulder and offered Zelda a wide smile.

"Good evening, Princess! The Duke mentioned you might enjoy some music this evening. Is there anything in particular you care to hear?"

"What you were playing was lovely. Please continue." Zelda glanced around the room, a faint disappointment began to bloom when her eyes flicked to the empty chairs. It quickly waned when her sight alighted on a new piece a furniture sitting by the hearth.

Zelda’s breath caught in her throat. The books that had been haphazardly piled on the piano and chairs had been arranged in neat rows upon a wooden cart with brass wheels and finishings. She walked to it, and ran a hand over the freshly sanded wood. Powdery wood pulp clung to her fingertips and the fresh scent of pine lingered in the air.

Recalling the Duke's parting words to her, Zelda shook her head, a bemused smile gracing her lips. Other estate business, indeed.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

Table for Two by Abel Korzeniowski

Zelda spent several hours sorting through the library while Agitha played the pianoforte. When the young girl exhausted her repertoire, she talked non-stop about her bug collection, pulled books off the shelves pertaining to entomology, and ran off at one point to retrieve a display case of beetles.

Every time there was a scuff or slight noise in the hall outside the library, Zelda’s heart leaped, only to drop when it was Impaz bringing supper or Fyer coming to stoke the dying embers of the fire. The Duke never returned, and when she asked Impaz at the end of the night the older woman merely tutted that it was late and Zelda would see him tomorrow.

He wasn’t there when Zelda arrived shortly after breakfast. The ache that bloomed in her chest gave her pause. She barely knew the man, and yet she already felt drawn to him in a way she couldn’t understand. Warmth flooded through her. Shad never made her feel this way, and Zelda’s guilt reared its head and coiled around the alien feeling of desire. The disparate feelings left her confused and on edge.

The Duke had done nothing to endear himself to her other than present her with the book cart. He'd appeared put out when she suggested a need for it. If that were truly the case, why would he go to so much trouble? 

To preoccupy her time and take her mind off the troublesome notion, she busied herself cataloging the books scattered about the room in a ledger she’d found in the secretary. She didn't realize it was noon until Impaz appeared with a cold lunch. Zelda paused long enough to eat a sandwich, before resuming her work. Having completed the ledger, she moved on to sorting, shelving, or placing the book on the cart to clear up more space in the room. They may have to move some around later as more were removed to collate, but it was satisfying work and helped pass the time. 

She'd just begun clearing another bookcase, going through a set of periodicals containing articles on taxonomy, when she glanced out the window and caught sight of the Duke striding over the grounds toward a small outbuilding just beyond a snow-covered hedge maze. He wore an unbuttoned navy topcoat that billowed open with each determined stride through the deep snow. Setting the books on the table, Zelda moved to the window to gain a better view.

Her curiosity piqued as she watched him wrench the barn door open and vanish within the dark interior. Was the small barn where he secluded himself when he disappeared for hours on end? Did he spend his hours brooding in the shed among the gardening tools or perhaps even a few livestock that may live there?

She weighed staying inside or risking the elements and venturing outdoors. If confronted, she could claim she'd merely stepped outside to get some fresh air. She had spent a good portion of the day alone in the library. Surely the Duke couldn't find fault in her wanting to stretch her legs.

Hurrying to her room, Zelda exchanged her slippers for walking boots and retrieved the cloak from the coatrack in the corner. It was the one that had been wrapped around her in her hazy memory. She brushed her fingers over the geometric teal design embroidered along the edges of the dark green cape. Tossing it around her shoulders stirred up a comforting scent of musty wool mixed with traces of autumn leaves.

Securely tying it beneath her chin, she returned to the foyer and pulled the hood over her head before opening the heavy front door. A gust of wind greeted her, blowing biting cold air and snowflakes into the vestibule. Zelda drew the edges of the borrowed cloak tighter about her and stepped outside. Pausing on the wide stoop, she looked out over the grounds. For an estate that was reputed to have been left to the elements, the shed looked to be well kept, and the hedges trimmed. Despite the drifting snow, she could see that the winding pathways of the maze were clear enough to walk unencumbered.

They must have done quite a bit of work during the short time they’d been here. Though weathered, the barn also appeared to have been maintained over the years. Unlike the east wing of the mansion, that the Duke had warned was near collapse. With that thought, she turned around to assess the mansion's façade for herself. 

Her mouth dropped open, and she widened her eyes at the sight of the decrepitude before her. The entire left wing did lay in ruin. Ivy crawled over its crumbling walls. Wind whistled through the shattered windowpanes and the gaping holes in the exterior. Zelda crept closer to peer inside the nearest window, keeping her distance in case anything shifted within the unstable structure.

The Duke hadn’t been lying when he said it was uninhabitable. Most of the interior walls were gone, leaving only the foundation and framework—darkened by extreme heat and being exposed to the ravages of the changing seasons. Everywhere she looked were piles of rubble and scorched furniture. There were jagged holes in the ceiling and roof, where the flooring had weakened. If anything had survived the inferno, it would be buried beneath the mountains of debris. 

“Morbid curiosity truly is your vice.” The Duke’s voice cut through her observations, and Zelda shrieked.

She whirled around to face him. The wind whipped their hair about them, and for a brief moment she caught sight of what he tried so diligently to conceal—warped, pale skin starkly contrasted with the black eyepatch. He quickly turned away before she could get a full glimpse of his disfigurement. Pulling a knit hat from his pocket, he shoved it on his head, flattening his hair back in place and concealing the ravaged features. 

“I was merely investigating the wreckage as any curious person would,” she said, averting her gaze to focus her attention back on the ruined wing behind her. “I’d hoped there may be something worth salvaging.”

“Well, there isn’t, is there? We’ll be demolishing the entire building, come spring.”

“What?” She asked, chancing another glance his way, only to find his mouth no more than a thin slash and a look as cold as ice as he surveyed the wreckage. “You can’t!”

“I most assuredly can.” He cocked his head to the side, an unreadable look in his eye. “And why do you care? Do you make yearly pilgrimages here to pay respects to your dear departed friend?”

Guilt coiled like a venomous snake in her belly. “No, but… it’s not about that. It’s about the generations of familial history. Surely, you’d want to preserve it.”

“Since I won’t be producing an heir, the Hayashi name dies with me, and there ends the familial history.” His harsh words were nearly as biting as the wind on their cheeks.

“You don’t know what the future may bring.”

“Oh, I think I do. Surely, a woman who is reported to be as wise as yourself saw enough of my face to know it’s the reason I shun social engagements. Would you want to be seen in social circles with someone like me? Seeing the pitying and repulsed looks? Knowing how everyone whispered behind your back.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped him and his expression hardened. “Would you marry me, Princess Zelda? 

“Appearances and societal judgements hold no sway over me. What matters is the bond between two souls,” she stated, refusing to allow his brittleness to intimidate her. “If we forged a connection, and I loved you, then yes, I would.”

“That’s easy for you to say knowing you are already betrothed and it’s a choice you will never have to make.”

Her anger flared. “I barely know you, and you certainly haven’t made it easy for me to do so. Even if I were inclined or able to entertain the notion, as it stands, it’s not discernible scarring that would prevent me from saying yes. It’s your baffling behavior.”

“I have my reasons, that I need not share with you. Nor does it matter, since you will depart soon enough.”

His dismissiveness wounded her more than it should, and Zelda struggled with her conflicting feelings. Why did it matter to her when he was correct that she’d be returning to Ordon Village and then on to resume her life at the castle? But it did, because the few moments he’d allowed his mask to crack, she’d caught glimpses of a sad and wounded man beneath.

One who had been hurt in the past and now was afraid to allow anyone in. A man who harbored secrets, other than visible scars, that weighed so heavily upon him, he thought it better to shut out the world. And the longer she spent time in his company, regardless of how cold and aloof he remained, the more she recognized in him a kindred spirit.

“I don’t believe you,” she stated. “I think it does matter to you—very much. I may be leaving soon, but I believe we could forge a lasting friendship. I, for one, would like to try, and I think, deep down, you do, too. I think you crave the companionship of someone near your age.”

His expression soured. “I don’t need your charity, Princess.”

“I’m not offering you charity; I’m offering you friendship.”

Squaring her shoulders, she held the Duke’s piercing gaze. The wind tugged at the edges of her cloak, but Zelda ignored how it whipped about her legs and howled through the cracked walls of the ruined wing. She noted how snowflakes clung to the Duke’s dark blond hair and coat, but he too seemed oblivious to the biting wind as he returned her stare. The frozen silence hung between them.

Finally, when her toes were turning numb in her fur-lined boots, and she had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering, he sighed. “Very well, if you insist. I'll endeavor to entertain the notion for the time being.”

“Thank you," she said quietly, turning away from the skeletal remains of the ruined wing to gaze out over the grounds. "Is that building where you house the mews?"

His eye widened in surprise and she hurried on, afraid her question would cause him to change his mind and break the truce they'd formed. "I saw you outside the other day with your falcon, remember? I believe you waved at me."

"Ah, yes." The Duke nodded, glancing up at the gunmetal gray sky. "He has proved invaluable, especially when we needed to inform everyone of your whereabouts. He can travel over terrain currently impassable to horses."

Zelda shivered, pulling her cloak closer about her. While the storm had abated somewhat, fat snowflakes still fell steadily from the dark clouds above, proving his point. They clung to their hair and clothes and continued to accumulate on the ground.

Her movement caught his attention and the Duke dropped his gaze back to her. "We should go inside," he suggested.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," she agreed. "Your library won't organize itself. Even if you demolish the mansion, you do intend to keep your collection of books, I hope.”

He shook his head as he headed toward the stoop. "I suppose you'll have my head if I say no."

Zelda’s chest tightened at the ghost of a smile that touched his lips, so much like Link.

But he wasn’t. She must keep reminding herself of that fact. She’d accused his behavior as baffling, but hers was just as confounding. She didn’t appear to have control over her own feelings and actions. It was dangerous for her to continue to entertain them, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

They paused just inside the grand foyer. The thick oval rug soaked up the wet snow from their boots while they removed their outerwear. The Duke offered to take her cloak and she acquiesced, lifting her hair so he could remove it from around her shoulders. His fingers grazed the back of her neck, and a shiver ran through her. It was quickly followed by a warmth that spread through her chest and colored her cheeks. Zelda ducked her head, hoping he wouldn’t notice. 

She needn’t have bothered, since his back was to her as he busied himself hanging her cloak before shrugging out of his navy overcoat. After hanging it and his hat on a hook to dry, he turned back to her, and they headed toward down the hall to the library.

When they reached the door, he hovered on the threshold as Zelda continued further into the room. It was as she had left it, aside from a tea tray Impaz had delivered while they had been occupied outside. Steam curled from the curved spout, and as had become the woman's habit, two cups in saucers sat beside it. Zelda walked past the table to the book cart sitting by a half empty bookcase.

"Thank you for this," she said, placing a hand on the smooth edge. "It was very thoughtful of you."

He brushed off her gratitude with a brisk flick of his hand. "It was nothing."

Moving to the end of shelf she'd been working on earlier, he pushed the ladder to the and began unloading the books.

His reluctance to engage her further was painfully obvious when he took a book and left her to sort through the remaining shelves. He went to stand at the window, painting a somber silhouette against the white backdrop beyond, and opened the book.

From where she sat on the floor, skirts tucked out of the way beneath her legs, and surrounded by small piles of books Zelda observed him, noting the stiff way he stood. His insouciant mask was firmly back in place. She bit back a sigh. It appeared she would have to prod him a bit more.

“I missed you yesterday evening. I thought perhaps we’d have dinner together.”

He studied the landscape of trees outside a moment longer before snapping the book shut and turning to face her. “I thought perhaps you would prefer to spend a quiet evening alone,” he said.

“Even if that were the case, Agitha made that quite impossible,” Zelda remarked, smiling at the recollection of the girl clutching the framed beetles to her chest as if they were a first-place prize won in a contest. 

Frowning, the Duke's features shifted, and a line formed between his brows. “I’ll have Impaz reprimand her for pestering you.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Zelda chided, shaking her head at him. “She’s a delightful child.” 

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Spend a season with her,” he challenged, “and see if you feel the same.”

“I have a feeling I would find her company quite charming.” Zelda rose from the floor, and gracefully stepped around a pile of books to reach the round table. She poured herself a steaming cup of tea before lifting the silver teapot in his direction. “Tea?” she asked with a smile.

He pursed his lips, clearly annoyed that she’d so effortlessly met his challenge, but refrained from pushing his opinion on the matter. With a curt nod, he joined her at the table, setting the book down beside the tray. She glanced at the title. Its subject was animal ethology. She’d already come across several other similar books, the periodicals she'd collated earlier, and a few dissertations regarding taxonomy and zoology, most specifically in regard to birds, wolves and goats. There was one written in a mix of ancient Hylian and Twili recounting the habits and life cycle of the now extinct dire wolf.

“I noticed you have quite a few books on animal behavior.” Handing him the tea, Zelda nodded at the book. “One in particular, regarding the dire wolf, is a rare find. My fiancé, Shad, is well-versed in the ancient languages. He would love an opportunity to examine it.”

Clenching his jaw, the Duke roughly accepted the saucer from her, sloshing tea over the sides of the cup, and stalked back to the window. What had she said this time to set him off? Or more to the point, to further shut him down? 

He took a sip of the scalding tea and immediately spat it out, glaring down into the murky liquid. With a barely audible hiss he set the cup and saucer on the windowsill. He clasped his hands behind his back so tightly the black leather glove covering his left hand creaked. His posture was tense, with shoulders hunched forward, drawn as if he were preparing to spring out the window.

“What did I say?” Zelda asked, perplexed by his inconsistent behavior. 

“Nothing of consequence,” he replied flatly.

His reaction was very similar to how he’d responded when she talked about Link in the arboretum. Zelda watched his brooding figure. What caused him to continually retreat every time she attempted to converse with him? She refused to be cowed by his irrational mood swings. Surely, being well versed in diplomatic relations, she could smooth the ruffled feathers of a sullen duke.

She moved to stand beside him and stared out the window, noting how the tips of his elegant ears pricked at the sound of her rustling skirts. Blowing on her tea, Zelda took a tentative sip, smirking behind her cup at the low growl he emitted. He retrieved his own cup, taking a rebellious sip of his own.

“Is this how you treat all your guests?” She asked lightly, deciding to approach him from the carefree angle that had worked yesterday. Zelda kept her eyes forward but saw the imperceptible movement of his shoulders relaxing in her peripheral vision.

“Only the ones who continually pry into my personal affairs,” he grumbled.

“Forgive me. I didn't realize inquiring about your course of study would be considered prying.” She turned to him, studying his profile, but she could make nothing from his stony expression. "Why are you so reticent?"

"Reticent," he repeated, mulling over the word and question. "I suppose in your eyes I am, but it wasn't always so."

"Oh?" Zelda pressed.

"You are tenacious, aren't you?" He gave a short laugh, but a wistful look flickered in his stormy blue eyes, and his expression turned inward. "Very well, since you are so very curious, I will tell you a story." He paused, angling his face from further inspection. “Once upon a time I was jovial, some would say carefree even, and had an abundance of friends. One in particular, I cared for very deeply. I suffered an unfortunate accident that left me in this state. Naively, I approached them thinking they would instantly know and accept me. They were frightened and couldn't see past what I had become. We were young. I thought, given time, perhaps we would both overcome our fears. But, it was not to be. By the time I came to terms with my predicament and thought to approach them once more, they had moved on."

The sudden vulnerability caught Zelda off guard. His words hung in the air, as if they were more than voiced syllables and held the weight of a tangible ache. Something that she was all too familiar with. She lifted her eyes to find him studying her, a mixture of sorrow and regret briefly visible before he schooled his features once more. It reminded Zelda of her own remorse that refused to abandon the post it had firmly taken up within her. She, too, had learned to bury it. Perhaps they weren't as different as she had assumed.

The corners of her eyes burned. She set her saucer on the windowsill to fumble for a handkerchief, but missed the ledge.  It fell to the floor, shattering and spilling the remains of her tea.

“Oh!” Zelda knelt, glad for a reason to hide her dismay. 

She dropped the linen intended to wipe the corners of her eyes on the small puddle of liquid before it could run over the hardwood floor. Hastily, she began picking up the shards of the cup dropping them into her open palm. She'd almost gathered all the pieces when a jagged edge sliced her finger and she uttered a small cry at the sharp sting.

The Duke was beside her in an instant. He took her hand in his before she could bring the finger to her mouth to suck on the wound. The gentle touch of his fingers sent warmth flooding through her.

“It’s nothing,” she murmured, attempting to draw her hand back. He held her fast, refusing to let her go. Taking a handkerchief from his breast pocket, he placed it against the paper thin cut, staunching the flow of blood.

“I’m sorry my confession troubled you. I don’t know what came over me,” he softly said, focusing on the cloth pressed against her finger. A small splotch of red blossomed on the pristine silk.

“No, it’s all right. I understand. I suffered a similar loss. It’s been difficult for me to move on, as well.”

“But you have.” His grip tightened on her hand. She winced at the pressure of his fingers against the cut. “I’m sorry.” He removed the handkerchief to inspect the wound.

A bit of lace and shimmering blue thread on one corner caught her eye when he stuffed the soiled linen back in the pocket of his coat. Zelda’s reply stuck in her throat, and she sucked in a shallow breath. As the moment stretched between them, she couldn’t shake the air of familiarity that had settled within her. The Duke’s visage blurred, and Link’s younger, smiling face hovered before her.

“Oh no, I shan’t be using it for that.” He folded it into a neat square and tucked it in his left breast pocket until only a sliver of the silk appeared. His dark blue eyes sparkled with amusement in the flickering lamplight as he tapped his chest. “I’ll keep it close to my heart.”

"Link," she whispered.

“It seems your thoughts are still addled from your concussion. As I told you before, Link has moved on. So should you.”

The Duke's rough voice broke through the vision. Zelda blinked, and the man kneeling before her came back in focus. It was foolish of her to think he was Link. There were plenty of monogrammed handkerchiefs trimmed with lace. It was wishful thinking on her part.

Releasing her hand, he sat back on his heels, silently studying her. He looked to be struggling with an internal conflict. The muscles in his jaw worked, as if he were sucking on his cheek. Pulling his silver watch from his waistcoat, he flipped it open to check the time. He appeared to come to some sort of conclusion and snapped it shut with a quiet click. 

“You expressed a wish for us to dine together," he gruffly stated. "I usually take an early dinner, would you care to join me?”

Setting her brief misgivings aside, she smiled, excited for the opportunity to prove her sincerity. “I’d like nothing more, Your Grace.” 

Helping her to her feet, he tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and guided her toward the servants’ hall beneath the stairs.

"I should mention, I take dinner with my staff."

Raising an eyebrow, Zelda couldn't resist needling him. "Including Agitha?"

"Including Agitha," he growled, and Zelda didn't bother hiding her smirk as they walked down the hall dimly lit by lanterns, following the savory aroma of roasted cucco and sautéed greens. The enticing smells grew stronger the closer they came to a partially opened door at the end of the corridor.

The Duke pushed it open, and the door swung on well-oiled hinges, only making a sound when it knocked against the wall. Impaz, standing at the stove, froze holding a dripping spoon. Several copper pots simmered on burners, and the surface sizzled each time a drop fell from the spoon. She looked between the Duke and Zelda. Her eyebrows rose to meet her hairline, and the lines around her mouth deepened with a wide smile that spread across her face.

“Princess! What a pleasant surprise. Will you be joining us for supper?”

“If that’s all right?” Zelda asked, even though the Duke had already extended her the invitation.

“Of course! We’d be happy to have you, dearie. Have a seat, and I’ll have Agitha fetch another plate and silverware.” Impaz nodded to a scrubbed wood table situated in a nook with a row of windows. Ceramic plates, plain glasses and silverware marking four spots reflected the flickering light from the wrought iron chandelier.

“Impaz, ask Agitha to switch the dishes and silver out,” the Duke ordered, clearly taking Zelda’s silence as criticism for the common tableware.

“Oh, you needn’t go through the trouble!” Zelda exclaimed, the tips of her ears burning.

“Didn’t you imply earlier that I was being a poor host, Princess?” the Duke countered dryly.

“I did nothing of the sort,” Zelda retorted, crossing her arms. “You are putting words in my mouth, Your Grace.”

Impaz approached, quietly chuckling to herself as she set a basket of warm yeast rolls on the table and looked between the two of them. Zelda didn’t miss the pointed look she gave the Duke before she returned to the stove. Scowling at Impaz's back, the Duke pulled a chair out for Zelda with a loud clatter.

The silent exchange was endearing, and she recalled a similar one the Duke and Impaz had shared in the arboretum. It was clear that the woman cared deeply for him, and treated him more like a grandson than an employer.

The dinner turned out to be far livelier than Zelda would have expected. Agitha and Impaz carried the conversation, with Fyer interjecting a time or two. They asked Zelda about castle life, and she shared a few humorous stories from galas she’d attended. The Duke refrained from adding much to conversation, contenting himself to observe and listen. Occasionally, he would glance out the window and then check the time on his pocketwatch. 

Zelda found his attentiveness to the passage of time most peculiar. By the time they had eaten their fill, it had darkened considerably. Impaz ordered Agitha to retrieve a sponge cake from the larder while she cleared the table. Fyer declined dessert and excused himself to prepare the hearths in the library and Zelda’s suite.

“My apologies, Princess, but I am afraid I must take my leave, as well,” the Duke said, tucking the watch back in his waistcoat pocket. He tossed his napkin on his plate and pushed his chair back to stand. His fingers drummed against his striped trousers.  

Disappointment bloomed in Zelda’s breast. Sitting in the cozy warmth of the kitchen, the Duke’s iciness had begun to thaw even further. She’d assumed they would spend the remainder of the evening talking in the library as they continued to work on his collection. But, she had pressed him quite a bit already today.

“Of course, Your Grace. Thank you for a lovely meal and company.”

He inclined his head. She caught a flicker of melancholy in the way he pressed his lips together, but he said no more and departed without saying another word. She followed his retreat, until his echoing footsteps faded. Settling back in the hardback chair, Zelda watched Impaz humming while she bustled about putting a kettle on for tea, retrieving dessert plates, and washing up.

"Impaz, where does he retreat to in the evenings?" she inquired when the older woman set a plate and fork in front of her.

Impaz busied herself, brushing crumbs from the table with a dishcloth, as she weighed her answer. Zelda had become quite used to this response to nearly any question she posed and patiently waited the woman out. She didn't deign to answer until the surface had been wiped clean.

"His Grace is a man of routine, and as I've told you, prefers solitude. That he entertained you as much as he did today was an unexpected surprise," Impaz admitted. "I suspect he is currently walking the grounds. It is his evening habit. Sometimes he is gone for hours, as it was the night he stumbled upon you in the woods."

Zelda turned the answer over. "Why at night?"

"There is a peace he only finds when the shadows fall." The corners of Impaz's mouth turned down, and she retreated to the sink.

Agitha's return ended their conversation before Zelda could question Impaz further. She set a small frosted cake, artfully decorated with edible flowers and sugared berries in front of Zelda. “I made this myself,” she proudly announced.

Setting aside the mystery of the Duke's nightly ritual, Zelda smiled, her heart warming even more toward the girl. “It’s beautiful, and one of my favorite desserts.”

“I know, the Duke told…”

A dish crashed in the sink and Agitha covered her mouth with her hands. Her wide eyes darted between Zelda and Impaz. The latter paid them no mind as she picked up the broken pieces and tossed them in the rubbish bin.

“I m-mean,” Agitha stammered between her fingers, averting her eyes back to Zelda. “The Duke requested it because it’s his favorite, too.”

“Hmm, then it's a shame he isn't here to enjoy it,” Zelda remarked to ease the tension in the room, even as her mind once more tumbled down a rabbit hole of a nagging doubt that refused to leave her.

The flashes of Link she’d glimpsed in the curve of the Duke’s lips, the familiarity she felt every time he caught her in his dark blue gaze. The gentle way he’d held her hand to tend her cut. How Impaz had alluded he’d sat by her side, caring for her when she’d been unconscious. His strong dislike of the portrait, and disdain of Link the one other time she mentioned him and his parents. 

But he wasn’t Link. He couldn't be. If he was, he’d have told her. Link would never knowingly hurt her in such a fashion. To keep such a thing from her  would be cruel.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

Yearning Hearts by Eternal Eclipse

Zelda startled awake, groggy and disoriented. It felt as if she’d just fallen asleep, but the gray light at the edges of the curtains indicated the approaching dawn. A mournful howl echoed in her brain.

Her dreams had been fractured, hazy images: walking with Link in the gardens, dancing with Shad at their party, sharing an awkward tea with the Duke in the arboretum, the silver wolf spying on her from the shadows.

She'd spent most of the previous night tossing and turning. Agitha’s slip of the tongue ran circles in the back of her mind. The Duke knew Zelda’s favorite dessert. It would be a simple enough thing to discover, if he regularly attended court. Which he did not. After spending two days with him, even if he hadn’t confessed that he refrained from social engagements, she’d have noted if he ever had. He commanded attention, and not because of his distinguishing features. She’d have been sure to notice him, even from across a crowded room. 

More than any of that, it was the way her heart made its presence known and the prickling sensation that coursed through her every time he touched her. These traitorous feelings were unlike anything she’d experienced. Who was this enigmatic man, and how had he, with his icy silences and cutting words, managed to unravel her so completely? 

Rolling on her side, guilt trod on the heels of her speculation and longing. How could she betray the promise she’d made to Shad by indulging in these fantasies? He should be the only thing on her mind. She hadn’t given him a second thought since she sent the letter informing him she was well. 

Instead, she immersed herself in peeling away the layers the Duke had built around himself until she arrived at the heart of the matter. If she were as wise as everyone insisted, she’d keep him at arm’s length for the remainder of her time here. He’d probably be relieved if she stopped prying into his personal affairs.

But try as she might, she couldn’t and didn’t want to. She looked forward to seeing him and found herself counting the moments between their encounters. She'd never felt this way with Shad, and that alone proved Zelda would never love him. He deserved more than she’d ever be able to give.

Doubting that she’d be able to slumber further with these treacherous thoughts battling within her, Zelda pushed the blankets aside and immediately began shivering. The fire had long since burned out and the morning chill hung in the air. She selected a blue velvet tea gown from the wardrobe to ward off the cold.

She’d never ventured outside her rooms so early, and the mansion held an eerie stillness. In the grand foyer, the curtained family portrait appeared ominous in the dim light, and Ilia’s tales that the estate was haunted sprang to Zelda’s mind. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she passed by, feeling as if their eyes followed her through the drapes. Eager to find the comfort of a living soul, she hurried down the stairs. 

Turning the corner at the bottom, she headed for the servant’s hall. Light spilled from the kitchen at the far end, promising warmth and perhaps, company, but something half-way down the hall caught her eye. Between two guttering bronze sconces a perfectly vertical crack split the aged plaster. The fissure jutted from the wall and was wide enough to place her fingertips against its rough edge. Giving it a firm pull, it released itself from the wall, revealing a hidden alcove Behind it was a narrow set of stairs that led to a part of the mansion she’d not yet seen. 

With her curiosity thoroughly piqued, Zelda stepped inside the small, recessed alcove. An open doorway at the top offered enough light for her to see the outline of the staircase and a handrail.

Voices floated down the stairs, and Zelda froze, where she stood. Straining, the tips of her ears pricking, she could just make out what they were saying.

“You need rest," Impaz scolded.

“I’ll rest once she’s gone,” the Duke rasped, exhaustion leaching into his tone.

Impaz clicked her tongue in disapproval. “You’re surlier than usual. You can’t continue to patrol all night and spend most of the day awake.”

“It’s my duty to protect the people,” Duke retorted. 

“You are but one man," Impaz reasoned. "That rabid pack would have torn you apart last night if your hawk hadn’t intervened. You’re becoming careless.”

“They may soon grow bold enough to venture into the village. What then?” From the few encounters Zelda had with the Duke, she could picture the steely look in his eye that accompanied his declaration.

“Rusl and the others can handle the wolves if that happens,” Impaz countered, before her tone softened, becoming gentler. "Have you thought anymore of what we discussed?"

There was a strained pause, and Zelda held her breath, waiting for his reply. When it finally came, he was barely audible. "I have not."

"This is no way for you to continue to live." Concern laced Impaz's admonishment. "She would not want to see you throwing your life away in this manner."

“You've said your piece. I don't care to discuss it further." The finality in his tone brooked no further argument from Impaz. “I’m going to check on Fyer’s progress clearing the path.”

Halting footsteps approached the top of the staircase. Lifting her skirts, Zelda spun and exited the alcove, ducking behind the door. She pressed her back to the wall, her heart keeping time with the thump of his boots on the stairs, imagining the severe reprimanding the Duke would surely give her if he found her there. It was her good fortune he turned in the opposite direction, but his gait didn’t sound like his usual steady stride.

Zelda peered around the door in time to observe his retreat. He favored his right leg, putting as little weight as possible on the ball of his foot. She watched until he disappeared around the corner. After she was certain he wouldn't be returning, she hurried from the hallway, processing what she’d just overheard.

A yet unexplored wing of the manor, and the conversation confirmed her suspicions that he was keeping secrets from her. It sounded like he’d physically engaged with the wolf pack and been injured.

She agreed with Impaz that had been foolhardy. Zelda doubted if Rusl would go to such lengths. There again, Rusl had a family to consider and the Duke had no one to take into account save his staff.

The conviction in his voice made it clear he cared very much about the villagers’ welfare. Which led Zelda to think he had been here far longer than a season. Especially since, aside from the crumbling wing of the mansion, the remainder of the home, grounds, and arboretum were fairly well maintained. If that were the case, why keep it a secret that he canvassed the woods at night to aid in protecting the village?

When she reached the library, every inch of her vibrated with nervous energy. She paced restlessly in front of the fireplace, and only stopped when Impaz arrived with a tray of scones, goat butter, jam, and tea.

She settled at the table and busied herself buttering a scone and fixing a cup of tea. Taking a bite, she mechanically chewed, barely tasting the flaky scone and salty butter as she went over the conversation once more. 

The tea grew cold and the remainder of her breakfast untouched while Zelda stared out the window, pondering what she really knew about the Duke. He'd given very little away, other than the odd comment here and there of his past life. The casual way Impaz had addressed him confirmed her suspicion that his relationship with the housekeeper ran far deeper than that of a mere employer.

Other than her, his staff consisted only of Fyer and Agitha. Hardly enough to run a household as large as Faron Grove Hall. But, he didn't entertain, and most of the house was closed off. A large household staff wouldn't be necessary.

Her mind circled back to the knowledge that he spent all night roaming the forest between the estate and the village. Impaz had mentioned that he spent his evenings walking the grounds, but that was a far cry from traveling all the way to Ordon Village.

How had he managed to get close enough in the deep snow if the path had still not been completely cleared? Even the strongest of horses, like Rusl's draft horse, would have a difficult time traversing the treacherous terrain of the foothills. Not to mention he would need to be familiar with the area, especially in the midst of a blizzard, to find his way back home.

None of it made any sense no matter which way she viewed it. But one thing was certain, she was beginning to doubt he'd ever been abroad.

“Is your breakfast not to your liking, Princess?” 

Startled out of her thoughts, Zelda looked up to find the man in question standing just inside the room. He cut an imposing figure in a tailored dark green suit that accentuated his lean frame.

He glanced at her uneaten breakfast and his thick eyebrows knitted together. "I can ask Impaz to bring you something else."

“Oh, no, that won't be necessary. I'm not all that hungry this morning.” Zelda pushed her plate and the many questions she had regarding the enigmatic man before her away.

He frowned slightly, looking her over with a discerning eye as he stepped further into the room, still being careful with his footing. Pulling out a chair, he sat down.

“Care if I join you?” he asked after the fact.

He lacked social graces, but she was coming to find charm in his eccentricities. She offered him the plate of scones, but he declined with a quick shake of his head. Strands of his hair glistened in the lamplight, damp in places, and the tip of his nose was pink from the cold. 

“Have you just come from outside?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. The storm is waning." He glanced out the window and Zelda followed suit. The falling snow had abated and weak sunlight struggled to break through the thinning clouds. "I was assessing Fyer's progress with clearing the path."

"I couldn't help but notice you favored your steps as you sat down. Are you injured?" she asked, hoping her voice sounded as casual to his ears as it did hers.

He raised an eyebrow in mild surprise at her observation before brushing off her inquiry. “A minor sprain. Nothing to concern yourself with,” he assured. "I took a misstep when attaching the snow roller to the draft horse. The work will go quickly now. You’ll be back in the land of the living soon enough.” 

Zelda’s heart plummeted like a stone to join the heavy lump forming in her stomach. The news that she would be leaving affected her more than his lie regarding his injury. Her time at Faron Grove Hall was drawing to a close far quicker than she had anticipated.

The prospect of reuniting with Shad and returning to Hyrule should have filled her with immense relief, but instead, dread threatened to consume her. She wasn’t ready. And after what she'd overheard, she desperately wanted to know what it was the Duke and Impaz had been discussing. Why did Impaz's grandmotherly advice trouble him so?

“Oh. And I’m not now?”

“Hardly,” he snorted, studying her with a shrewd eye. “You don’t appear pleased, Princess.”

“I admit it will sadden me to say good-bye,” Zelda confessed. 

“Will it? Surely, you must be growing bored of our company,” he stated, a self-deprecating smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“On the contrary, now that you’ve ceased being so disagreeable, I've enjoyed our time together,” Zelda teased, keeping her tone light.

"Now I know you're jesting. It's either that or you are still suffering from your head injury," he replied in kind.

"Funny you should mention that, Your Grace." Zelda posed one of the many questions that had been on her mind since she’d awakened over a week ago. “We’ve never fully discussed how I came to be here.”

“What is there to discuss?” he asked, with a pinched look, the momentary levity in his tone notably absent.

“How you happened to be in the woods at the precise moment I needed rescue,” she pressed, determined to get the answers out of him not matter how he bristled.

Sighing heavily, he took a moment to examine the neatly manicured nails on his right hand. His response, when he finally deigned to give it, surprised her. “The recent events concern me. I have taken to patrolling the woods at night, keeping vigil over the village, and helping when I can to hinder the wolf attacks. I stumbled upon you on my trek home."

“That is a noble endeavor, and I truly am in your debt." Zelda shuddered, recalling how she stumbled through the snow, the wolf close on her heels. She clenched her fists until her fingernails dug into her palms. “A wolf chased me through the storm that night. I was certain it would be the death of me. Did you see it, by any chance, and scare it off?”

“I never saw a wolf. I only found you at the bottom of the ravine," the Duke replied firmly. "What did this beast look like?”

"I’ve been frightened of wolves since I was a child, you see, and this one terrified me." Taking a deep breath through her nose to steady herself, Zelda closed her eyes and pictured those last moments before she lost consciousness. “It has distinguishing white markings on its forehead, like those of the royal crest, and one of its eyes glows an unearthly blue. I think, perhaps, I saw it outside my window the first night I arrived here, as well. It's larger and more cunning than most. I won't soon forget its heavy panting as it tracked me, or how its howl struck fear to my core.” 

The Duke raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That sounds like a figment of your imagination. Perhaps you mistook the howling of the wind through the branches and the shadows of the trees for a wolf.”

“I’m not a witless woman suffering from vapors! I know what I heard and saw,” Zelda insisted, unable to keep the annoyance from her voice at his attempt to downplay her claim.

“I didn’t mean to suggest…" Giving an annoyed huff, his shoulders stiffened. "I'm sorry I offended you; that wasn't my intent. I will keep a lookout for the creature you described."

"That is all I ask, thank you," Zelda replied evenly, releasing her balled up fists. Despite her lingering vexation with his chauvinistic lapse in judgment, she admired his courage to take solitary walks in the woods; seemingly unafraid of what he may encounter there. "Have you never been frightened that you may meet with a terrible fate, risking patrolling alone?"

"I am already well acquainted with fate. Suffice it to say, I was forced to face my fears long ago. They hold very little sway over me now." The Duke shifted in his seat, a flicker of discomfort passing through his good eye as he studied the crackling flames in the hearth. "But that is not something I care to dwell upon."

"I suppose it isn't," Zelda murmured, swept by a sudden urge to smooth the furrow that had formed between his brows. To distract herself from the temptation, she rose from her chair, smoothing the wrinkles caused by her clenched fingers from her skirts. "Well, then, shall we focus on continuing our work instead?"

He appeared relieved by the change of subject and glanced about the room. "I suppose we should," he commented, straightening his cream waistcoat as he stood to join her. "Though it's unlikely we will finish what we've started. It was an ambitious undertaking."

"But one worth pursuing," Zelda insisted, picking up a heavy volume of history and setting it on a shelf beside other books of its kind. He made a non-committal noise as he hauled a stack left on the bottom rung of the ladder, easily balancing it in his right hand. She arched an eyebrow. "You do intend to see it through to the end, don't you?"

"I doubt it will continue to hold my interest once you depart." He deposited the stack beside her and resumed his self-appointed task, climbing the ladder to reach the top shelf.

Zelda studied him from where she sat, the pile of books he'd given her momentarily ignored. "In that case, I will have to make a point of returning to ensure the work is completed properly, Your Grace."

She waited for a curt response about her inviting herself to visit in the future, but one never came. He stood frozen, an open book in his hand. His hair hid his face, but from the way his hand trembled, whatever the book contained had caught him off guard.

“What is it?” she asked, rising to her feet and approaching the bottom of the ladder.

“It’s nothing,” he stated, but remained unmoving.

“Clearly, it’s not.” From where she stood, she couldn’t see the title. “Let me see it.”

He hesitated a moment longer before closing the book and descending the ladder. Without a word, he held it out, releasing it before their fingers could touch. He retreated to his preferred spot by the window, his back to her to avoid further scrutiny.

The title, The Princess’s Ball and other Hyrulian Fairy Tales, was stamped in silver script on the spine and cover. They'd come across several other similar books, and none had elicited such an adverse reaction in him. Upon opening it to the title page, she immediately wished she hadn't. 

“Oh!” She sucked in a choked breath. Link’s looping handwriting covered half the page.

Something between a hiccup and a laugh escaped Zelda’s lips. A fresh wave of loss washed over her along with a flurry of memories the book unleashed. Her father had decided to throw a ball for her fourteenth birthday, even though it was hardly an eventful age. It was a certainty Link had chosen this book for its title.

After he had given her the necklace with the promise of an engagement proposal in a few years, all she’d been able to think about was dancing with him. Of how her skirts would swirl about their legs as they twirled around the ballroom's parquet floor. How his eyes would twinkle mischievously and he'd tease her should she step on his toes. And maybe, just maybe, as the evening drew to a close they would steal away to a secluded alcove and share their first kiss.

But none of that had been meant to be.

With a sigh, she looked back at the words on the page. What had he looked like as he wrote the note? Perhaps he’d been sitting at the round table or the secretary by the door. Had he slipped the book on the shelf for safekeeping, with the intention of retrieving it before departing?

She reread the message. There wasn’t any hidden meaning or deep profession of love. It was simply Link being himself. Something she had taken for granted, like breathing in and out. Not realizing how much she needed it until it was too late. She had survived the death blow, but was she living or merely going through the motions?

“Did you?” The Duke’s voice cut through her speculation for the second time that day. 

“Did I what?” 

“Save him a dance?”

Zelda shook her head. “The ball was canceled.”

Dropping her eyes back to the page, she traced the printed letters, faded over time. “He was more than just a friend. We’d recently pledged our love for each other. I would have saved all the dances for him. I couldn’t… didn’t want to accept that he was gone. I fooled myself into thinking, if I never saw the evidence, I could pretend he was still alive. I’ve harbored so much guilt for never visiting. I put it off for so long…” Closing the book, Zelda placed her hand flat against the cover, feeling the soft edges of the book beneath her fingertips. “I’ve tried to move on."

“You’re engaged to be married, are you not?” He watched her with an intensity in his dark blue gaze that nearly stole her breath away.

“Only because it’s expected of me, and I could not put it off any longer. Shad's a friend and fellow scholar. Nothing more. I haven’t been able to commit myself and fully give my heart to him.” Zelda pressed her hand to her breast where the pendant used to rest. “I thought by coming here I would be able to say my last good-byes and put my love for him to rest, but I can’t seem to bring myself to do so. I doubt I ever will.”

What little color there was drained from the Duke’s alabaster complexion. Clearly at a loss, he opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. After a moment he angled away, as had become his habit, to gaze out the window.

That's a pity, she thought she heard him mutter. Zelda looked down at the book in her hands. Why had it triggered such a drastic response in him? Almost as if Link’s message and her confession had stirred up the same bittersweet melancholy that swirled within her.

Yearning fluttered in her breast like a bird trapped in a cage and her vision tunneled. His smile, the way his hair curled over his collar, the regard in his dark blue gaze burned an indelible image in Zelda’s mind. 

“Who are you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked in a wary tone of voice.

“Why did discovering this book affect you so? You looked as if you’d seen a ghost. And the way you were gazing at me a moment ago. What aren’t you telling me?” Zelda waited, the longing building in her for him to turn and say the words she so desperately wanted to hear. 

Clenching his gloved hand, he rapped it softly against the window, as if tapping out an S-O-S. “Believe me when I say, you are better off not knowing.”

Her heart lurched in her chest at his cryptic response. The growing realization that everything he had shared with her held a grain of truth gnawed at her insides, like the wolves she so desperately wanted to keep at bay. That, from a certain point of view, his words could be construed as a reality she'd thought lost to her.

If that were the case, how could he stand there, as cold and unmoving as the crumbling statues in the garden outside the window, and continue to deny them that which could set them free?

"Are you Link?"

Dropping his hand, he woodenly turned to look at her. A cold frigidity had doused the warmth that had briefly flared in him earlier. "That name belongs to someone who died ten years ago. I am a mere shadow of what once was."

"Stop speaking in riddles and half-truths!" Zelda's frustration bubbled to the surface. Since the day she first saw him in the arboretum she'd felt as if they'd been dancing, falling in and out of step with each other. "I deserve to know!"

He shut down further, clenching his jaw in a subtle yet unmistakable manner that indicated this was a topic he wished to avoid. "To know what?"

"What you are hiding." Now, more than ever she needed to know the truth. What could be so terrible?

"And what if you don't like what is revealed? You've caught but a mere glimpse of the monster I truly am." His voice cracked on the word 'monster', fracturing like thin ice on a lake. "Trust me on this, Princess.”

"You are hardly a monster," she insisted, anxiously curling her fingers around the spine of the book. A chill crept up her arms despite the warmth of the fire in the hearth. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

His expression hardened at her stubbornness, his one good eye darkening to the color of the twilit sky just as the sun slipped below the horizon. “Perhaps this will convince you to cease this line of inquiry once and for all.” 

Holding her gaze, he removed the black glove from his left hand with deliberate slowness, revealing a shocking sight: leathery, crimson-mottled skin, covered with rigid, scars that resembled white lightning streaking across the sky, pulled taut against the knobby contours of his knuckles. The uneven texture, puckered in some places, unnaturally smooth in others wove a tragic tale. It had never occurred to her that the disfigurement would afflict him beyond what she’d already glimpsed. That the scars she'd seen were but a fraction of the damage.

With trembling hands he reached to remove his eye patch. It dangled from his fingertips, swaying between them like a flag of surrender. She should tell him to stop; that she didn't need to see anymore, but the morbid curiosity he'd accused her of held her fast in its grim embrace.

Time slowed down to a crawl as he pushed aside his thick hair, to fully reveal what he preferred be kept hidden.

The weak, winter sunlight filtering through the window cast ghastly shadows over a face ravaged beyond recognition—it more closely resembled a skeletal death mask than flesh and blood.

Zelda audibly gasped, biting back a horrified cry of despair that threatened to escape. Her hand instinctively flew to her mouth in shock; her fingers pressed so tightly against her lips they turned bloodless.

Angry, vermilion scars snaked across his parchment-like flesh, weaving a complex network of uneven lines, like roads on a worn map. Each scar formed, macabre raised welts that marred his once noble forehead, high cheekbone and vulnerable hollow of his neck.

They resembled melted wax that had dripped down the sides of a candle; hardening mid-flow to form rippled, misshapen ridges that caught the shadows in their valleys and held them fast. The devastation disappeared below his collar, hinting that the permanent, life changing damage continued its inevitable crawl down his torso.

Cloudy white cataracts obscured his deep blue eye, turning it a turbulent gray. The eyelid drooped like a wilting flower, fused at the outer edge, rendering it useless. That side of his face, once animated and handsome, was frozen in a shroud of perpetual, soul-crushing sorrow.

“Is this what you had expected to see?” The bitterness in his tone cut deeper than the sharpest blade.

“N-no.” Her answer caught in her throat, and her eyes darted frantically—to the window, the flickering flames, the patterned rug, before landing on a point just past his shoulder. The painful visage blurred into nothingness.

She should have taken him at his word and not forced him to humiliate himself in such a cruel manner. The weight of her curiosity bore down upon her; the remorse nearly smothering her with each shallow breath she took.

He dropped his hand, allowing his hair to fall back to shield her from the worst of the distortion. When he swam back into focus, his expression—etched with an open, raw pain—further rooted her where she stood. “Then please, I beg of you, stop wishing for me to be him.”