When Impa enters the office that afternoon, I notice that she’s smack on time. I’m already seated in a chair, in front of her desk, with my Fairy notebook on my lap, ready to take notes. I observe her as she shuts the door, a bit like an automaton, then strides towards the desk, observing my posture.

What she doesn’t know, of course, is that I was not sitting straight-backed like this until five seconds ago, when I heard her coming down the hallway. But what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.

“I’m impressed that you are actually early,” she comments in her clip, serious tone. “Does this happen regularly, or do I have a chance of winning at the lottery today?”

I smile at her, resolute not to let her insults get to me. I’ll just let them slide…

“I actually can manage punctuality, if that’s of any surprise to you,” I answer her.

Impa smiles thinly. “All’s not lost, then.” She leans towards me and examines my notebook. The one Link bought me. “A Fairy notebook. I see even a future queen is not protected from fashion trends and commercialism.”

I smile still. “Link bought it for me. It helps the national economy to keep running.”

“Forester, hm?” Impa’s smile grows a bit ironic. “Interesting.”

“Oh?” I won’t let her lead the conversation. Politely, I ask, “No comments about his following trends?”

“None,” Impa says. She can see I’m searching for ways to trap her in her own words. But she slips out of it easily, to my annoyance. “If I have a problem with Forester, rest assured that I would take it to him, and not discuss it with you or anyone else.”

“How thoughtful of you,” I say, plainly.

Impa seems to see I’m not going to let her put me down. I’m taking Link’s advice to heart. I’ll stay obedient, but graceful and strong.

“I’ve heard that you almost slipped away last night,” Impa remarks.

“I’m sure you were rejoicing,” I say, flatly. Oh. Wait. That’s not quite as graceful.

Impa smirks. She sees me berating myself mentally. I really think my face is too easy to read. It would explain many things. “Frankly, I’d have preferred to know what was troubling you so much.”

I don’t answer her. In all likelihood, it’d just be ammunition against me, and honestly, I don’t know how to formulate something that I’ve chosen to put behind me.

Impa doesn’t seem ready to let me be, though. She leans forward, planting her hands firmly on the surface of her desk, her sharp eyes staring me through. “Why did you come back?”

I can see she’s looking for something in my face, but I don’t know what. So I go for honesty. “I didn’t want to disappoint my friends or all those who seemed to believe in me so much.”

There’s a short silence, as though Impa is waiting for me to elaborate. “And… what about you?” She prompts.

Me? What is she talking about? Does she want me to open up as though she were a psychiatrist? That’s insane, and I really hope she hasn’t been expecting me to. “What about me?”

“What brought you back?”

What is with people and asking that question anyway? How does it matter, if I’m back and ready to take the job? I mention this to her.

“It matters,” Impa says, with uncharacteristic patience, “because if you’re back for selfish reasons, we don’t want you around.” Oh, harsh.

I’m not here for selfish reasons though. Honestly. “Well,” I say, “in that case, you don’t have anything to be worried about. If I had been selfish, I’d be long-gone.”

Impa examines my face, and probably sees my conviction.

Because it’s true: I used to worry only about how I appeared to the world. Fact is, the world doesn’t care as long as it’s not submitted to tyranny or abandoned like a dirty sock. And if I back out, if I freak out, if I can’t hold on, then that’s exactly what Hyrule is going to get. A tyrant called Ganondorf Dragmire, who’ll make a mess out of everything.

If they really kept me in because they thought I could do it and if Link actually came after me yesterday night to beg me to come back, then clearly they all believe in me. If they hadn’t trusted my worthiness, they’d have been relieved that I had managed to escape.

That’s why I came back. It’s because, in my darkest hour, they all still wanted me to stay.

I can only guess what Impa truly understands from what I have simply told her. In any case, she stands straight again, and looks down at me severely, with eyes that remind me of Sheik’s but with colder, harsher glints.

Then, she smiles. Genuinely. Surprisingly, it lights her face with true benevolence.

“All right, then,” she says. “Now what can you tell me about the first explorers of prehistoric Hyrule?”

That’s when I realise that I finally obtained Impa Shade’s approval.

Victory is mine!

I grin broadly. “The first explorers… I think they came in from Calatia.”

Impa nods curtly. “This was roughly five centuries before Mudora. As you also probably know, Mudora was the first form of script used in the general area of what would become, much later, the Hylian Alliance. It is called Mudora because the title of the oldest written work known to Hylian kind happens to be called ‘Book of Mudora’. It contains a very antiquated form of our current language and tells of the World Creation as perceived by our ancestors. What can you tell me of the ancient World Creation theory?”

I haven’t noted much yet. I put in ‘Book of Mudora’ along with a few keywords. So I look up and say, “It’s the story of the three Goddesses, isn’t it?”

Impa nods. “The Three Goddesses, the Golden Goddesses, the Holy Goddesses, the Triforce, yes. This holy Tri-Force,” she says, decorticating the word Triforce into its original meaning, “was said to have created the world from a void of darkness. You know the story. They tell it to every child. Din, strong flaming arms, red earth,” she enumerates, waving her hand in a circular motion, dully listing it. “Nayru and her wisdom, Farore and her rich soul, and so on and so forth.”

I acquiesce. It was one of Mom’s favourite stories. Back when she was alive, she’d always tell it to me.

“The Book of Mudora gave birth to the most widespread religion in the world,” Impa continues to explain. “At the time, the various countries that would eventually form the Hylian Alliance were lead onto a quest to seek knowledge. Religion triggered a spiritual movement that would justify much technological and intellectual advancement.”

I keep jotting this down. She speaks fast, but I can still manage to keep up.

“It was at this point, for instance, that the concept of sowing natural seeds into a more accessible field started agriculture. Before that, people would simply pick whatever they could find in the wild.”

“What time After Writing are we at, then?” I ask, still taking down the main ideas.

“Around two hundred A.W. At this point, pottery has become an art form. Rich families even hired sculptors to create their dishes. We’re in the period of advanced sedentary installations. It is the time of Kakariko as a main city. People flock there and the city spreads well onto the slopes of the Death Mountain range.”

“Wait,” I interrupt her. “You mean that Marcastle…”

Impa motions for me to be patient. “Marcastle only comes a few hundred years later. Before that, Kakariko was the sole capital of the region of Hyrule, a province of Hylia. Hylia, as a country, roughly encompassed the overall territory of what is today the Hylian Alliance. It is around this time that the first real dynasty arises. The first ruler, King Adlar the Wise, takes the reins of Hylia in 286 A.W.”

I don’t know how long she keeps going like this. I note everything she says, and the time seems to fly by. I have to say, I like history in general. The idea that I’ll need this if I ever become queen is a great incentive to stay awake.

Impa has a curt way of stating facts, but every so often, she pauses in the chronology and adds a couple of anecdotes that colour up whatever she’s telling.

For instance, word has it that when the country of Hylia started fragmenting into different countries, around the sixth century After Writing, the only living heir to the throne, a princess, found refuge in a town north of Hyrule, Castleton. There, she met a commoner with great sword-fighting skills, who became her protector and eventually her lover.

Because their union was frowned upon, she renounced the throne and established herself with her lover in the south of Hyrule, near Lake Hylia ―near Lakeside, interestingly, ― and they had many children. The first royal line ended there. Back in Castleton, there were many fights to determine which lord or baron would become the new ruler.

At the same time, Impa explains, the other provinces of ex-Hylia created their own monarchies and their own systems. The provinces became countries. The oldest was Calatia, then Hyrule, then Termina, Labrynna and Holodrum, Minish, and finally, the Waker Islands, the archipelago that was discovered in the twelfth century and populated by people from Labrynna, Termina and Holodrum, the only countries to have access to the vast ocean.

Hyrule, on its part, shifted the capital from Kakariko to Castleton. Castleton had been home to many lords and thanes, and therefore was decided to become the centre of culture and business. The market of Castleton was, during the sixth and seventh centuries, the biggest and most active marketplace in all of ex-Hylia. It would be so renowned that it even affected the name change Castleton would undergo during the eighth century. The name Marcastle came from the fusion of the words Market and Castle.

I hadn’t known this. Impa takes a moment to drink from a cup of coffee that she brought in with her. A bit flatly, she says, “At least my lesson won’t be completely useless, then.”

I look at her in mild exasperation, then flip through the few pages of notes that I took in the past three hours. I’m beginning to get tired. Impa holds out a hand. A bit apprehensively, I give her my notebook.

She reads through it, her face carefully blank. Outside the narrow window in her office, I can see birds flying. The afternoon has grown a bit windy, so they’re playing in the strong gusts of wind, letting themselves glide and sway. Invariably, the sight brings a smile to my face, as it always does. In Lakeside, back in the days when Mom was still alive, she and I would go on the shores of Lake Hylia on a day like this one. We’d have a picnic and throw breadcrumbs at the seagulls.

“You’re rather good at taking notes,” Impa suddenly says, tugging me out of my daydream. I blink up at her. She hands me my notebook back. “Very few people can actually keep up with me.”

I guess that’s true, but I mostly attribute it to taking orders from customers, back in the days when I was a waitress. I explain it to Impa, a bit sheepishly, expecting her to make a snide comment. But she seems to have lost any animosity she had once felt towards me. Now, she simply listens to whatever I say and looks a bit sceptical.

“It’s true,” I say, trying to convince her.

“I won’t doubt you,” Impa says. “I think you can handle that department on your own.”

Well, that was a bit snide. I stare at her, gaping a bit. Then, I exclaim, “Hey, you’re still not trusting me. I said I was going to stay!”

Impa nods. “That’s good news, but doesn’t mean you’ll stop doubting your abilities.”

She has a point. Still, I figure that from now on, I just won’t let my insecurity show as much. Who cares if I’m unsure, as long as I look the part, right? And since I don’t want to live in that uncertainty for the rest of my days, I’ll just keep gathering all the skills a queen needs, to eventually eliminate negative feelings.

Just because I’m not perfect now doesn’t mean I can’t aim at becoming so. I want to be the most admired queen, the kindest, wisest, and most reliable. I know that won’t come easy, and I’ll have to work really hard. Plus, perfection is impossible to attain, but I’ll still keep trying.

“You look rather determined,” Impa comments, re-arranging her own notes. I look up from my daze and grin.

“I just came to a decision, that’s all.”

“How lovely,” Impa merely answers, not looking curious at all. Oh well. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me.” She checks her wristwatch. “But I have a strict physical training that Strike put together for me, and it commands a few laps in the palace pool.”

Hey, two new bits of information, right there! For one, I didn’t know Sheik had created a training program for Impa. I didn’t even know they could get along at all, since Sheik is so relaxed and Impa is so uptight. I mean, I hardly realise Impa knows what a tree is, with all the time she spends in her office, whereas Sheik would rather be a tree himself!

And for two, why did no one mention before that the palace had a swimming pool? Was I meant never to know? That’s so unfair! I love swimming!

Impa clearly sees my surprise, and smiles thinly. “The palace has a big pool with a side whirlpool tub at the edge of the gardens. It’s surrounded by very high hedgerows.”

“No kidding,” I say, a bit awed. “And that’s where you train?”

Impa nods curtly. “One day a week. The rest of the time, I have other exercises to practice.”

So, that’s why she’s so muscular. I refrain from admiring her sinewy forearms. It’s a bit odd. Impa’s shape comes across as kind of masculine, if you ignore her breasts. It’s a bit creepy, but it seems to fit her general attitude.

“With that,” Impa says, picking up her stuff and heading for the door, “I bid you a good week. We’ll see each other next week, to learn more about the golden age of Hyrule. It’ll be a detailed lesson spanning just four centuries, instead of nearly a millennia, as we’ve done today.”

I nod. I can deal with that. My biggest concern right now is why I haven’t tried the pool out yet, to be quite honest.

That or the whirlpool tub, in which I can definitely picture a steamy Link and myself drinking Shakers until he realises his eternal love for me.

“Have a nice day,” I say to Impa, trying to get my most recent fantasy out of my head.

She nods back, and smiles, even. Then, she turns on her heel and disappears down the hallway. This forces a grin to my face. It’s late afternoon, I just finished my first lesson with Impa Shades, and I’m already on her good side.

Well, I consider, mentally patting myself on the back, that wasn’t nearly as difficult as Link and the others had warned me.

Speaking of Link, I wonder what he looks like in swim trunks. Oh Nayru, enough with that, Zellie! You shouldn’t be thinking that way about your publicist. He’s your publicist; he could make your life a living hell―

“Miss Zelda?”

I turn. And I look down. I see a thick browed, unenthusiastic guy with sideburns, looking like he’s been living off caffeine for the past month. I recognise him as Zuko Loud, one of Tetra’s assistants. When I was first introduced to him, he kept making incomprehensible sounds, which Tetra alone seemed capable of deciphering. Over time, I began to make out a couple of words, and now I understand whatever he mumbles summarily.

For example, when it seems Zuko is mumbling ‘Dezafoyu’, he really is saying, “These are for you.”

Actually, with those words, he hands me a massive bouquet of flowers. It’s an assorted arrangement, with many summer flowers and leaves, and it looks almost too big for him to carry.

Wait. He’s offering me flowers?

I lean down and take them from him as gracefully as possible, trying not to look too bewildered. All along I’m wondering, ‘Okay, how do I break it to him that I actually lust after my publicist and not after him?’

But then he mumbles, ‘Ridakard,’ and I understand he means, “Read the card.”

I search around the immense pile of flowers for a card. Luckily, I find one, a little sage green thing, looking very plain and nondescript. I smile at Zuko and hope that his writing is more comprehensible than his speech.

But it turns out the card and the flowers aren’t from Zuko after all. With growing surprise, I read what is neatly and politely written inside the little note.

‘Dear ‘Princess’ Zelda,’ it reads, ‘We wish to offer you these flowers in regard to the kind and forgiving word you put in for us during your first official public hearing last week. We sincerely apologize for having expelled you from one of our groups a couple of years ago, and thank you very dearly for being so merciful in your treatment of our organization. As a symbol of our gratitude, we will now also sponsor the creation of the Kokiri Reserve and root for you as a new ruler for this nation. You will without a doubt make a terrific queen. With due regards, ―Hyrule Wood Scouts.’

It takes me a while to realise what this is all about. It occurs to me that the Wood Scouts are thanking me for not talking badly about them during the meeting with the Youth Group and the journalists.

I can’t believe this. They’re thanking me for being gracious?

Cool.

Really. This is great. It means, then, that for every good action that I make, something even better comes out of it!

I try to look around for Zuko, but he’s vanished. That’s another thing about Zuko Loud: he tends to disappear without a trace, to attend other chores, and you hardly ever notice it.

Well, whatever. He probably knows his way around better than I do. For now, all I’m worried about is where I could find a flower vase that could contain all these flowers. A part of me is unbelievably gleeful that I have people supporting me. And another is still rejoicing that Impa has actually softened up with me.

That’s why I don’t hear anyone approaching. I’m too busy grinning.

So, when I hear a smooth, masculine voice ask, “Why the smile?” I nearly jump a mile high.

I turn around. Link is standing there, looking a bit tired, but otherwise glad to see me. He notices the flowers ―they are hard to miss― and says, “Oh? Secret admirer already?”

“They’re from Wood Scouts,” I exclaim, instead, in a voice that is way too thrilled to be explained with reasoning. I don’t care that I sound hysterically happy. “They’re going to sponsor the Kokiri reserve and they’re rooting for me!”

Link smiles a bit, looking satisfied. I get this feeling like he’s had a hand in having the flowers brought to me. I lean forward and, suspicious, I ask, “Did you already know?”

Link’s eyebrows shoot up. He looks convincing in his surprise. “Me? No, of course not. I can promise that those flowers are from Wood Scouts, and that I had no part in their decision to send them to you.”

That rings true enough, but what about… “How is it that Zuko had them brought to me personally?”

This is where Link begins to look a tad uncomfortable. “Well, you know. We get a lot of mail from new fans of yours and journalists and everything, but rarely from organisations like that…”

I smile, seeing that he’s trying to back out of the conversation. “And?”

Here, my publicist clears his throat and averts his eyes. I wait, patiently. I get this feeling like Link did something extremely sweet to which he won’t fess up.

Which, needless to say, makes me very curious. So I have to incite a bit of reaction.

It’s true though. The palace gets a lot of mail and other stuff for me, so why would Zuko bring over that specific one? Obviously, it’s to cheer me up, but who told him to do that? Zuko doesn’t strike me as the very sensitive type.

“Well, Link?”

He finally says, “Okay, okay, fine. You were depressed, you were going to have a lesson with Impa Shades, and you needed a lot of cheering up. So,” he admits, a bit embarrassed, “I thought it’d be a good idea to show you that I’m not the only one who thinks you can do this.”

I could kiss him. Really.

This guy is way too perfect. If I had just the tiniest bit of sense, I’d be kissing him right now.

But I can’t do that, since he’s my publicist. So, instead, I go for, “That’s very sweet of you,” and I smile, trying not to leap for joy.

After all, he has every reason to be in a cranky mood: his sister has a hangover, and I was with Ralph most of the night yesterday, and Ralph is a guy who, if Sheik is to be trusted, Link doesn’t exactly like, and I almost ran away from here, and I almost ruined all his work…

But he still finds the time and mind to do little things like this, for me?

I swear there is no explanation for why he’s still unmarried.

He must have this flaw that all the other girls found annoying or something. Maybe he was so handsome that it made their own looks seem boring… But I wouldn’t care about that, personally, which is why Link and I are obviously a match made in―

Oh, Farore, who am I kidding?

Link never does anything without cause.

Anyway, right now, he’s looking impossibly good and that could almost make me forget that there might be a hidden reason for all this kindness. And my suspicions are confirmed when he asks, “So… you’re not going to leave, correct? Even if Impa was ignoble to you?”

Ah, so there it is. Link was just trying to cheer me up because he thought my lesson with Impa could have made me doubt my return and induced me to leave again.

That’s a bit of a downer.

Wait. Correction. It’s a big, major downer.

Can I just say I hate workaholics, especially those who have yet to admit that they’re workaholics? I’m a bit wounded to find out that Link just had the flowers relayed to me to avoid another incident like the one yesterday.

I feel myself frown slightly, and even the flowers in my hands seem to wither just a bit.

“I’m not going to leave,” I say, perhaps a bit acidly. “I don’t intend to. And, by the way, Impa was very good to me today.”

This last bit seems to surprise Link, who nevertheless manages to look suitably relieved. I can’t believe he had the gut to try and manipulate my impressions of today.

“So, she didn’t lecture you? About anything?” He sounds a tad incredulous.

“She didn’t,” I say. “Impa and I have started getting along just fine.”

I feel something boiling inside of me. Why are they always expecting things and trying to prevent them when there is no need to? It’s so frustrating. It even tarnishes the kindness of those who are sincere.

Link doesn’t seem to realise that he’s made a mistake. He just looks impressed and happy. Obviously, he looks gorgeous when he’s like that, and it makes it hard to stay angry with him. But I won’t waver, not now.

“Link,” I say, and he looks my way expectantly ―he’d been examining one of the lamps on the wall, “You don’t have to buy me anymore.” I try to keep my voice level, but it’s hard, since I just feel like screaming in frustration. “You know that, right? I’m not going to run anymore. A little encounter with Impa won’t faze me, so,” I take a deep breath to keep my composure under Link’s suddenly intense stare, “you don’t have to be nice to me just because of your job. I’d like it if you were nice to me because you really wanted to be. And if you don’t want to, then please, don’t pretend to care.”

I can see that Link looks a bit guilty now, and a bit at a loss of what to say. I expect him to deny that he’s been doing it just for his job, to try and look blameless.

But he doesn’t do anything like it.

Instead, he brings a hand to my arm and, very seriously, with an expression I’m assuming he’d use to declare his undying love to someone ―yeah, I know, I wish, ― he says, “I’m sorry.” When I don’t answer, partly because he’s so handsome and it’s killed my reaction time, he continues, “If you really are certain that you’re here to stay, then I won’t doubt you again.”

Don’t melt, Zellie, don’t melt. Who cares if he’s so gorgeous that he looks like a candy bar and you’re imagining trailing your mouth over his long, lean body? Oh, gosh, don’t melt, or else you might spoil the moment, and that would suck.

Link seems oblivious to his effect on me. He takes his hand away from my arm, brings both hands behind his back, looks at his shoes, then back up at my face and asks, “Should I take this as your final answer to the five day reflection time?”

I can’t help a tiny smile, and I see the corners of his lips rising too.

“Yeah,” I say. “I think I’m staying.”

Link grins, revealing his set of pearly white teeth. “Great.” He looks like he’s about to say something more, but then smiles to himself and asks, “Am I forgiven?”

Um. Duh, I think, wondering how a normal woman could keep a grudge against him. It doesn’t seem to me like he has many enemies, actually.

Well, just look at the way he’s apologizing! Is it really any wonder?

The question, of course, is how does one stay angry with him if he really does something cruel? I mean, look at those eyes, and that gorgeous face and that―

He’s still waiting for my answer.

And, in fact, my silence has made him a bit worried-looking. It’s a bit his fault, I think, because if he weren’t nearly that perfect my mind wouldn’t have strayed.

“Zelda?” He asks, concerned by my quiet contemplation.

I beam at him. “You’re forgiven.”

He grins in relief. “Phew. You worried me, there, for a moment." He offers me his arm and thereby makes me heat up. "Now, about tomorrow…”