Sheik assures me that I’m ready. I believe him because his training was rough and what I need to do today, on the eighteenth day of my presence in Marcastle, is apparently very easy.

Malon, of course, has not strayed from my side all morning. The idea for her is to play the part of the concerned friend. She’s been harassing Sheik about Epona for the past two hours, asking if the saddle and bridle were well secured, if there was an emergency plan and if he’d been in the business for a long time. I let her fuss. It gives her an opportunity to speak with Sheik and it gives Sheik an opportunity to look competent ―something he rarely gets― so I won’t come between them.

Besides, it really does seem as though Sheik prefers redheads.

As I absently watch Sheik soothing Malon’s worries, I wonder where Ruto and Anju have gone. I know Link went out with Aryll for today and that both of them will be back in time for the review. So, at least I know that my friends aren’t telling him any more embarrassing tales regarding my underwear.

How embarrassing is that anyway? You’d think they’d have a strict minimum of consideration for my sanity, though apparently they don’t.

On top of all that, I constantly expect more tabloids to show up with a scandal to my name. It might sound paranoid, but over the past few days, the number of negative rumours about me has risen proportionally to the good news. I found out because Tetra was ranting about it angrily to Link and I overheard them.

Link, on his part, seems to consider this onslaught of slanders with a more philosophical point of view. I know he’s been trying to hide from me the great number of shameful articles we’ve been getting, but, as he says, any talk of me, at this point, is sure to draw attention, and that’s what we need.

Among the gossip, word has it that I was once pregnant and got aborted in secret; that I’m not the true daughter of Nohansen; that I bought my way into the ministers’ cabinet ―some even claim that I slept my way up!

I know Link’s been actively working at ending those rumours with evidence that he’s gathered. He’s a know-it-all. The newspapers gobble up everything he says.

Out of respect for his constant war against the monster of my reputation, I try not to let my depression drag me down too much. He claims his sources consistently point to Veran Black, so I have someone to direct my anger at instead.

Veran Black, I’m told, isn’t all clean herself, so why she insists on tarnishing my reputation makes me wonder. In her early thirties, with her beauty still intact, she invented herself a title and a fortune, thus ensnaring a good deal of rich men. Predictably, she divorced them all one after the other, stripping them of a few of their shares in the process. She then proceeded to elevate herself in the society rankings.

Link says that, though there is little proof for it, Veran Black could be a prominent figure in the underworld market. With her kind of money, he even says, it’s a wonder she hasn’t bought or invested in more lucrative systems. By this he means the underground systems.

I know it’s not much of a shock to realise my country has an underworld. Every country in the Hylian Alliance does. But the fact that an underworld duchess is messing with my reputation pisses me off.

If she’s against me, then clearly she’s all for Ganondorf Dragmire, who is both a nutcase and a prominent threat to my country. If Ganondorf is aware of Veran, then that means he’s got his finger on the pulse of the black market and cheating scum of this country.

Well, I don’t have proof ―Link said she might be an underground princess, but it’s not proven.

It still pisses me off.

Also, whether that bitch ―excuse my Zoran― is part of the under-realm or not doesn’t change the fact that once ―if― I’m on the throne, I’ll have a lot of tracking to do and changes to affect. Illegal underground activities shouldn’t happen.

I’d bet a couple of paychecks that Ganondorf doesn’t have that in his plans.

Malon is trying to get Sheik to admit that he might want to kill me. I don’t miss the teasing tone of her voice, nor do I miss Sheik’s amusement.

Aw, great. She’s hardly through the door and she already has a guy in her pocket, while I’m still struggling to determine if guys see me as anything but a queen-to-be.

This sucks.

I guess it helps that Malon has some previous knowledge of horses. That way, she and Sheik have stuff in common.

I don’t even know what Link likes, let alone if we have anything in common. I mean, technically by now I would know about his hobbies or favourites. But I don’t. It’s like he deliberately keeps that info hidden from me. After all, he hardly has any days off, so Din forbid he’d spend them at the palace with me.

And because Link pretty much doesn’t do anything but work whenever I see him, I don’t even know what his favourite colour is.

You might say it just wasn’t meant to be. Maybe it’s better that way, even. I mean, a queen can’t date her publicist. She has to date a lord, a duke, or even a software mogul, since this is a modern time. But not her publicist. He might be gorgeous and smart and kind, but obviously, he’s too lowly, as the magazines would say.

Yes. It’s better this way, not knowing him well. At least now, we can have a strictly business type of relationship.

What a waste, though.

“And tell me,” Malon is asking Sheik, “How long will she have to stay on that horse? On Epona, that is.”

Sheik takes his time to calculate. He always does because taking his time is his specialty, but this time around he does it with even more thought. This is to humour Malon, who apparently can’t get enough of his casual fearlessness. “I’d say… roughly twenty minutes.”

“Everything included?”

“Sure.”

“Well, that’s great news,” Malon smiles as she glances at me. “Right?”

“Right,” I answer her, giving her the opportunity to turn her attention back to Sheik, who manages to look patient and pleased at once.

Oh, yeah. He definitely prefers redheads.

And Malon would fall for any guy who knows stuff about horses. Talk about a fine match.

Let’s hope this keeps her mind off of Link and my ―alleged― infatuation with him. Even though, you know. Fat chance.

“So, you’ve been training with Zelda how often?”

Sheik glances my way. When he sees that I’m not going to respond or steal his limelight, he answers, “Enough, I promise. She can handle whatever comes her way. You should have more faith in her.”

“And you,” Malon teases, “shouldn’t have so much.”

I let them talk as though I’m not there. Let them live it out.

I turn when I feel a nudge on my back. Epona. She must have felt a bit left out too. Horses are so perceptive sometimes. I smile.

“I’m going for a practice ride,” I say to a slightly oblivious duo.

“Be careful,” Sheik warns me absently, answering another of Malon’s questions.

“Sure. Don’t get into a brawl yourself,” I answer back, trying to sit myself on the saddle as gracefully as possible. “I need you in one piece for the review.”

“Okay,” he says, but I know he didn’t hear a word of what I said. “I’ll do that.”

He doesn’t even look my way. He’s too busy admiring Malon. It’s a bit insulting, but it’s kind of cute too. I hope it works out. She lives down south, after all. What will they do once they get children?

The thought makes me giggle to myself as Epona trots away slowly. Overhearing the sound, one of her ears turns back to listen. I love this mare. She’s so adorable, with that cute stripe down her nose. I rub her collar fondly.

“So,” I say out loud to Epona once we’re well out of anyone’s hearing range, “Epona. Any cute blonde stallions looked your way recently?”

Epona snorts at the sound of my voice. Gamely, I continue.

“Oh, me neither. That sucks. You’re pretty enough, after all. But hey,” I say, still as fondly, “don’t worry. What do they know anyway? One day, you’ll have a great mane day and they’ll be all over you.” I laugh. “You’ll see. Tell you what. You’ll probably get yourself a hot steed before I ever do.”

Epona snorts again. I imagine that it sounds sympathetic. There’s something incredibly therapeutic about speaking to an animal.

“One day,” I say, “I might be queen. Creepy, huh?” This time, Epona doesn’t make a sound. “I know. There’s this guy, Ganondorf. He wants the throne instead. And another woman, Veran, who hates me for some reason.” I sigh. “Both seem hell-bent on making my life miserable. It’s like they don’t realise I manage quite well on my own.”

This time, Epona snorts.

“Don’t try to make me feel better,” I warn her, grinning. “It’s bad enough that Link won’t even tell me what his favourite colour is. I know,” I say when she shakes her mane. “That didn’t make much sense. Do you know Link?”

I grin when Epona shakes her head. You’d swear she knows what I’m talking about, though most likely, she’s just shaking dust from her coat.

“He’s my publicist. He’s supposed to teach me a lot of things about being a queen and all. That’s all fine, you know.” I frown in thought. Epona is doing her usual walk around the corral, so I let her go where she pleases. “It’s just,” I continue, “he’s also the kind of stud I’d have drooled over if he’d been prom king back in the days.”

Epona snorts again.

“Don’t make fun of me,” I mumble. “Seriously. The guy is sex made man. It’s unfair.”

It’s with those mindless thoughts that I spend the rest of the hour walking with Epona. She seems not to mind my voice, so whenever I speak, she seems to relax.

I come back in view of my start point, having done the loop around the training area, and I spot Sheik and Malon again, sitting on a bench, this time. I drop down from Epona’s saddle, and immobilize the mare to ensure my presence won’t be noticed. From my angle, it’s not certain what they’re doing.

I’d bet it’s not in the nuns’ rulebook, though.

Ah, finally, I realise. An occasion to blackmail Malon has arisen! She’s always had the upper hand where embarrassing stuff was concerned. Maybe now she’ll be careful.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to see Ruto’s grinning face. Behind her is Anju, whose brows have risen on her forehead at the sight of Malon and Sheik sucking face. She comes level with us then stops, cocking her head to the side.

“That’s interesting,” she observes.

“Tell me about it,” I grin.

Ruto smirks evilly. “At least we know she’s in good hands.” She turns to me, dragging my attention away from my riding instructor and my childhood friend’s antics. “Anju and I came to warn you.” Her smile is big and laughing, like she is about to tell me about a funny joke. I motion for her to go on. “We saw the Royal Guard’s new uniform!”

Oh, great. Don’t tell me the next half hour is going to be an editorial on fashion. Please.

Anju presses her lips together and Ruto seems ready to burst with laughter. Interesting. “What? What do they look like?” I finally break down and ask.

“Parrots!” Ruto exclaims, but then she levels her voice to ensure Malon and Sheik won’t overhear us. “I swear,” she assures me. “They have this bright blue uniform with purple threading and red pants and yellow sleeves. They wear a sort of hat with big green feathers! Their shoes are heeled with buckles! I’ve never seen anything that horrible! They look like cartoon toys!”

“What?” I blurt out, in disbelief. “You’re joking. There’s no way anyone would design something that awful.”

“Apparently, someone has. I was on my way to ask permission to use a picture for a t-shirt,” Anju calmly states.

“You can’t promote that!” I breathe, eyes wide. “It’s horrible!”

“You mean it’s drop-dead hilarious,” Ruto corrects me, laughing uncontrollably. “Think about it. Trying to keep your calm and grace and poise but having to review children movies’ guards!”

“The stuff of nightmares,” Anju says with a nod.

They’re right. This could lead to a mess-up of a different sort. What if I can’t hold in my laughter? I’d lose my credibility.

Then again, what else do they expect?

I ponder this right up to the moment when I appear in the courtyard before a mass of reporters. I’m wearing a comfortable riding gown embroidered at the sleeves and hem, and let me say, a lot of the male reporters seem to be letting their cameras click more than usual. How exciting. I seem to be getting rather popular.

I smile and wave politely.

Behind me, out of sight, Malon, Ruto and Anju are whispering encouragements, against Link’s slightly exasperated comments, hooting under their breath, just enough for me to vaguely hear them. I refrain from giggling when I hear them whisper things like, ‘Go get them, girl!’ and ‘I see a naked hobo!’

Thankfully, I consider as Sheik, dressed in official attire that looks singularly uncomfortable, brings up Epona, there is no naked hobo in sight. Sheik helps me up onto Epona’s decorated saddle. I fall easily into place, thinking back to all the little tips he gave me. He pats the pommel where he tied the reins, and says, in a low voice, “You know the trajectory. There’s nothing you can’t handle.”

I smile down at his serious face and murmur, “Thank you.”

He backs off and shoots me a subtle, secret smile, and looks proud of me. He then steps ahead and, out of habit, Epona follows him. I remember to pull my shoulders back and take a deep breath. Ahead of me are the soldier ranks.

As Ruto and Anju warned me, the new uniforms are a complete catastrophe. Apparently, Sheik is also aware of this, because he sends a glance back at me, and his lips twitch upwards, as though he’s trying hard not to laugh. I smile at him then look up at the―

Oh my Din, they all have bright red epaulets.

This has got to be a joke. A lot of the guards can hardly bring themselves to look at me, like they’re too embarrassed to be recognized. I glance at the reporters, who aren’t nearly this subdued. They’re gleefully taking down notes and pointing and hiding their laughter.

You’ve got to be kidding.

They keep taking plenty of embarrassing photographs. As hilarious as the situation is, it could totally cast the palace and government into a negative shade. I can already imagine the titles. Princess Reviews Clowns. Fashion Sense Deserts Marcastle Staff. Royal Guard Carnival All Year Round!

Hyrule’s ‘Princess’ Is Blind.

I can’t have this happen. I stop Epona, and Sheik turns to look at me, wondering what’s wrong. This seems to have caught everyone’s attention, at least.

I shake my head and ask, looking around for someone to come forward with information, “Who in the world chose these uniforms?”

There’s a good-humoured laugh from the journalists, and even the guards seem to lighten up. I’m still waiting for someone to answer me, so Sheik says, “I think it was the Hall of Ministers.” He’s doing his best not to show his extreme amusement.

I grimace, to the press’ enjoyment. “But this is ridiculous.” I motion vaguely at the many lines of guards. “Whoever thought this one up deserves to wear this thing all year round.”

This earns me lots of approving hoots and a small round of applause. Lots of journalists are writing down notes eagerly, probably figuring out their headlines for tomorrow.

“They wanted to change old habits,” Sheik says, detachedly, providing press feedback.

“What was wrong with the old uniform?” I ask. “It’s like they’re trying to make the government look like a bunch of colour-blind morons.” Oops. I swear morons just slipped out involuntarily. The news people don’t seem to care.

“It was the steward’s idea,” Sheik finally says, and I feel a shiver crawl up my spine.

Ganondorf Dragmire?

Well, I think, a bit smugly I’ll admit, Ganondorf Dragmire just shot himself in the foot.

“I’ll say,” I blankly comment. “It seems to me as though Dragmire needs a lesson in fashion.”

This causes an uproar of laughter. I can swear I heard someone in the throng exclaim, “Show ‘em, Princess!”

I have this feeling like the headlines just shifted to something like, Princess Rightfully Defends Common Sense, or anything in that range. It can only be better than what it was before.

Suddenly, everyone quiets down, and I wonder why. Have they considered that I’m not that great after all? Oh, damn, what do I do now? Are they angry that I interrupted the ceremony or something?

That’s just totally unfair. You’d think they’d be straightforward about this, but no. One minute they like it, the next they’re gathering rocks to stone me? That’s just not right.

Sheik clears his throat and looks beyond my shoulder. I turn in my saddle, causing Epona to stamp her foot impatiently.

Bugger, Ganondorf Dragmire is standing on the front balcony, with Link right behind him doing his best not to look annoyed. And the almighty steward is looking my way with something that can only be called cold disdain.

It’s like I’m in a Western or something, with plenty of face-offs. I used to love Westerns, but it’s like Ganondorf just ruined them for me.

“Mr. Dragmire,” I politely greet him from across the courtyard, wondering why he’s here. He wasn’t supposed to appear. At least, it wasn’t in the schedule. Whoa, it’s like his very presence causes me no end of bad mood swings, like PMS, only without all the hyper sensibility.

I never liked PMS.

“Miss Harkinian,” Ganondorf says. “What is the cause of today’s complaint?”

Bastard, I think, refraining from sending him the vilest glare I can muster. I can see Link is doing the job quite fine without me. So instead, I answer, as lightly as possible, “I was wondering, actually, what possessed you to choose such a frightful outfit for our Royal Guards.”

This causes supportive applause from the reporters, and even some smiles from the guards themselves. They all sober up when Ganondorf scans the crowd with a blank, severe stare.

Farore, I hate this man so much, for some reason.

“You disagree with this choice? I find it suits your eccentric behaviour. If you ever were to become queen―”

I interrupt him, which is technically very rude, but I figure I might as well keep an upper hand here, “― I wouldn’t force the Royal Guard into a uniform that is so blatantly despicable just to upset an opponent.”

There are some ‘Ooh’s all over the courtyard, with an intonation that clearly says ‘She verbally dissed you, what can you say to that!’ Even the guards are getting a bit animated to see who will win this face-off.

“I obviously didn’t choose that uniform to destabilize anyone,” Ganondorf says, rolling his eyes, as though he’s thinking about how foolish I am.

I snort and glance at the feathered hats. With a grin, I say, “Well, you managed it anyway.” I show the guards’ faces, as they look unbelievably uncomfortable. “Congratulations.”

I’m so glad that cameras are recording this. The laugher of the reporters tells me I’m rising quickly in their esteem. I’m completely aware that Ganondorf is in a no-win situation. He seems to realise it too, and if it puts him in an even fouler mood, it’s completely worth it.

This is payback for our first meeting, bastard!

“Well,” Ganondorf finally says, “if you feel so strongly about this, what do you suggest?”

“A poll,” I say, grinning, and I turn to the Guards, who are still standing at attention. “All those in favour of the old uniform say ‘Aye’!”

Ganondorf shakes his head and is about to protest when a unanimous, “Aye!” rings out in the courtyard, making me almost giggle in my seat. I turn back to him.

“I don’t believe I heard any ‘nays’.” I even sweetly add, “What about you?”

To give the man credit, he keeps his stern look unwaveringly. “We are in a monarchical government. As steward of this country, I have the final word on everything.”

Rauru, I love you so much, I think as I recall my managing lessons. “Not quite. Since you’re not king, you have to pass all decisions through the ministers’ hall first. I’m not that daft, please.”

This seems to take Ganondorf by surprise, and his face will, most likely, also be in the news tomorrow. Or maybe even in this evening’s news. He tries to catch himself.

“I never said you were,” even though, you know, he clearly thinks it.

“Thank you,” I say, kindly, never losing my smile. “But until either one of us becomes the ruler, the people still have a word to say.”

Ganondorf looks sorely disgusted. “Indeed,” he says, levelly.

“Well then,” I say, “The guards have it.” I turn to the grateful lines of Royal Guards and say, cheerfully, “You’re free! Take off those silly hats!”

This earns me even more laughter and applause. When I turn back to the balcony, Ganondorf has vanished and Link is the only one still in sight.

And he’s looking at me with obvious amusement and approval.

This is it, I think. I’ve done one more step in the right direction. I can become a queen, at this pace. It’s actually just a matter of standing up to Ganondorf and proving that he’s not all that.

And, as Ruto and Malon would claim, fashion sense wins the day, yet again!

I dismount from Epona with Sheik’s help, and he leads her back towards the stables. The journalists are rushing my way, so I hurry to reach Link back on the balcony. Formally, I dismiss the guards, like Link showed me to do, waving at them gently and bowing my head. They snap to attention, hitting their heels together smartly, then walk away in an organized fashion, though they seem to be walking faster than usual.

They’re probably eager to get out of that dumb uniform.

Hey, those guard trousers are actually pretty tight on their butts. Yum. Too bad they’re losing the ugly uniform. To give it some credit, it emphasized their buttocks.

Oh well. For every win, there’s a loss, I think to myself in amusement.

I answer a couple of trivial questions, until Link motions with a nod that I can safely return inside.

They close the doors a minute later, exactly.

Instantly, Malon rushes to me, squealing.

“Zellie! I’m so proud of you!”

“You whooped Dragmire’s ass,” Ruto agrees, with Anju smiling, behind her.

I glance at Link, but he’s not looking my way. He’s standing by the windows, looking out at the dissipating crowd of journalists. I wonder what’s on his mind.

As if on cue, Malon, Ruto and Anju excuse themselves. I shoot them an exasperated look. What is this? First grade or something?

Still, once they’re gone, I join Link’s side and examine his face for any signs of what his thoughts are. I know they can’t be all bad. He did look proud enough some moments ago.

We stay silent for what seems to me like an eternity.

Then, Link turns, and I’m no longer looking at his profile. Now, the light hits his face obliquely, making his blue eyes glow a bit. His blonde hair looks great with that light too. And let’s not talk about his overall hotness. We’d never stop.

For all that is holy, this man is the bane of my existence.

I try to shake the thoughts that are currently plaguing me when I notice that his lips are slowly pulling upwards. Hm. Lips. I can think of a couple of things Link should be quite good at doing with his lips aside from smiling.

“Well?” I ask, managing by some sort of miracle to dissimulate my thoughts. “What did you think?”

Link just examines my face with a rapidly growing smile.

“To be honest,” he says, glancing back outside, “I will remember and cherish the memory of today on my deathbed.” He adds, solemnly, “It was almost sexy.” I can’t help but laugh. Link, now a bit more serious, says, “You’re on the right path, and that’s all there is to it.” He brings a finger up to brush my cheek. “You’re going to be a fantastic queen, Zelda.”

With that, he drops his finger, smiles, and leaves me waiting for more. The bastard. One day I’ll show him what happens when you get my hopes up and disappoint.

Oh, heck. I can’t help but grin for the rest of the day.