“Ganondorf Dragmire won’t let you live this out without revenge,” Rauru warns me. I’m too lazy to acknowledge what he said. It’s day twenty of my stay in Marcastle and we’re finishing up the third week. That leaves me with a little more than one week before the final decision and the coronation of either the aforementioned bastard ―Ganondorf― or myself.

The final decision is supposed to be announced in ten days, at a ball. Rauru is the one doing the announcements. Even though he’s partial to me, he’s going to be speaking for the whole of the ministers’ cabinet.

And, as he is now currently warning me, winning those old fossils over isn’t exactly a done deal.

“I’m absolutely serious, Zelda,” he says. “He still has a lot of influence, and for the moment, the majority of the ministers consider that you might be a weaker ruler than Ganondorf.”

“In spite of what I did two days ago?” I ask, sitting up, wondering why they’re not counting the horrible uniforms thing.

“In spite of that, dear,” Rauru sighs. “Showing fashion knowledge hardly demonstrates appropriate ruler abilities.”

“Well,” I mumble, “that’s a real load of it. What do they want me to do, anyway?”

Rauru looks glad that I finally showed some interest in what he’s saying. He sits back in his large chair, contemplating. “I assume Link has told you about the function tomorrow evening?”

“You assume rightly,” I say. My morale is low enough. Link’s been a bit distant ever since that moment by the window where he touched me for no reason. And, let me just say that moment has been haunting me since, with all the possible what-ifs and ‘you’re-so-dumb’ thoughts that can come with it.

It doesn’t help that the weather’s been grey and rainy all day. It’s so dark outside that I have this feeling like the sky’s going to fall. All of the indoor lights are on. It’s a strange atmosphere. Usually the big windows provide enough light until sundown, but today feels like the sun didn’t come up at all.

“That function will be your occasion to rise in their esteem.”

Oh. Great. Another occasion for me to screw up, I think.

Rauru seems to notice my mood, and says, sternly, in a tone he rarely uses, “You’ll need to cheer up if you ever want to become the future queen, Zelda Harkinian.”

I sit up. His tone doesn’t leave room for argument. I’m not a rebellious type, so I’d rather obey him. Besides, it’s not really his fault that Link is a weathervane that can’t decide whether he likes me as friend or more and who can’t decide if he wants to touch me or not.

“Sorry, Rauru,” I mumble.

My prime minister smiles, fatherly again. “You’ve had a lot to deal with, but whatever it is that upsets you needs to come out.” He waits for a moment while I debate telling him that I lust for my publicist who seems only too keen on making me sizzle. Before I can decide, he says, “You don’t have to confide in me. Your friends are here, in Marcastle. And I know my granddaughter Tetra can also lend an ear if you ever need her support.”

Oh. Yeah. They’d have a field day if they ever found out.

“Okay, Rauru,” I finally settle for saying. “But it’s not that big, you know. I’m just a bit…” I motion vaguely because I can’t find a word that would fit in without sounding awkward.

Rauru isn’t dumb. He knows what I’m doing. I can see he’s about to reprimand me, but then he lets it go. He probably figured it’s my problem, ultimately, and not his. Great.

“As I was saying,” Rauru finally says, “this function tomorrow is your best bet where convincing the ministers is concerned. Link has told me you seem to have the people of Hyrule on your side…” If he noticed my expression get gloomy at the mention of Link, he doesn’t mention it. “But if you want to convince the officials, it’ll be done tomorrow.”

“Got it,” I say. I lean forward with a smile. “So, anything I might want to know about these ministers? What they like, what they don’t like…” I raise a brow. “Anything Ganondorf Dragmire knows that I don’t?”

Rauru smiles benevolently. “That’s more like it,” he says, nodding at my renewal of enthusiasm. “Tomorrow will be about political and social talk. The idea is to show the cabinet of ministers that you are as capable and knowledgeable as Ganondorf in all their fields, if not more.”

This seems to me like a near impossible task. I feel it weigh down on my shoulders like certain death. To be even with Ganondorf, I’d need experience. I’d need confidence. I’d need years of practice. This isn’t fair.

“I must mention,” Rauru says, when he notices my gloom coming back with a vengeance, “that most of the ministers, though inclined to say Ganondorf might be a better ruler, also dislike him for personal reasons. You, on the other hand, are young, fresh, and cheerful. Most of the time, at least.” He adds this last bit to make me smile, and it works.

“So I just have to look pretty and smart?” I ask.

“That, and you have to show them you care. Which is why I have brought a list of little harmless anecdotes about each minister. I should suggest you observe their pictures and learn their names, at the very least.”

He hands me a thick document of about ten pages, written in fine print. I stare at it, goggle-eyed then look back up at his smiling, wrinkled face.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Rauru says, with utmost seriousness. “I’m trying to give you years of experience before tomorrow night. This will require some study on your part. I can only give you the tools. You have to use them.”

I leaf through the document and read things like, ‘Was part of the military during the war in Subrosia and is now a complete pacifist’, as well as stuff like, ‘Divorced his first wife, then remarried, and now has three adult sons’.

This kind of information, on approximately forty ministers, spanning ten pages, seems impossible to remember in a little over twenty-four hours.

But guess what? Becoming the possible queen of Hyrule was impossible for me a month ago, and yet here I am, impossibly becoming the possible queen of Hyrule. So the notion of possibility tends to mess with me nowadays.

“Alright,” I finally say, standing and getting ready to leave.

Let’s prove that things like miracles actually can happen.

Rauru wishes me good luck. I grin at him. I think if I could handle Ruto’s psychology books, I can handle this measly document without any trouble.

I return to my room, where Kotake is making my bed. Heavy rain is coating my windowpanes and making a regular pitter-patter. I greet her with a smile and settle on the couch to peruse the document comfortably.

There's a silence.

Kotake, with her bulgy eyes, seems shocked that, for once, she doesn’t have to snap some sense into me. It had kind of become her unofficial role, and all. So she hobbles over to me and asks, “Forester tried to have it away with you, eh?”

I swear I almost choked on my own tongue. I turn to look at Kotake, who is obviously sniffing for a scandal.

“No!” I exclaim. “Link hasn’t tried to have sex with me, Kotake. He never has, and he never will!” I do my best to keep the bitterness out of my voice and replace it with incredulity. I don’t have to fake it much either.

Kotake laughs at me. Laughs! Like I said something incredibly funny!

“Poor girl,” she says. “You think I don’t know how it works? I’ve been through that too.”

Okay. I am trying very hard not to picture Kotake getting it on with anyone. “Kotake,” I say, trying to keep my patience, “Link and I are not an item. We are not having sex, and we have other priorities than that.” Unfortunately.

“Is that what he told you? Bloody stinking liar, he is. He can’t keep himself from it, and he has the gall to pretend.”

“From what, Kotake?” I’ll say… This might get interesting. “Can’t keep himself from what?”

Kotake’s brow rises high on her wrinkled forehead. She stares at me as though I’m particularly dumb. “Don’t be stupid, girl.” See? “The boy is madly in love with you.”

I stare at her, feeling a bit elated for a breathless moment…

… Until I remember that Kotake likes making assumptions and spreading them and no one actually believes her, most of the time, because she often doesn’t know what the heck she’s talking about. Therefore, her announcement that Link loves me is pure invention and most likely not based on true facts, as is her assumption that he and I have been sleeping together.

Well. If I wasn’t deflated before, I certainly am now.

“Thanks for the heads up, Kotake,” I mumble, turning my attention back to the ten-page document again. “But I’d rather not draw any conclusions without hard evidence myself.”

Kotake seems miffed by my lack of enthusiasm. She turns on her heel and hobbles back to her laundry basket, in which she dumped my old sheets, grumbling to herself, “The only hard evidence you’ll get will be in his pants, and by then it’ll be too late, girl.”

I freeze, staring into space in disbelief. Please. Kotake did not just say that. Kotake did not just allude to anything pertaining to Link’s…

I shake my head and close my eyes, trying not to think about Kotake anymore. I just wait in silence for her to leave my rooms, which she does with a certain amount of frustration. Her large laundry basket under the arm, she opens the door. I do my best to avoid looking at her, still struggling to forget that she just mentioned parts of Link that I would do well not to consider.

The rumble of thunder grumbles in the distance.

Ah, Nayru. Everything sucks.

“Hah!” I suddenly hear Kotake exclaim. “What was I saying?”

I turn, because she just went from a grumbling old harpy to a proud, self-righteous shrew. In the doorway, Link is looking down at Kotake with a curious but unknowing smile, wondering what the old hag is on about this time.

“I don’t know,” Link says. “What were you saying, Kotake?”

He’s wearing dark blue jeans with an un-tucked white t-shirt. There’s a black silhouette of a rooster on the front, with words in bold above it saying ‘Suck My’. Oh dear.

Kotake seems to notice the shirt as well, and is sniffing at it disapprovingly, looking over her shoulder to send me an eloquent look, like she’s trying to convey that I’m obviously blind not to notice his undying love for me.

Except I fail to see what a t-shirt that says ‘Suck My Rooster’ can possibly convey aside from, well, an obvious command.

Don’t blush, Zelda. He’s an indecisive jerk. Just because he wears the kind of t-shirt you actually find hilarious doesn’t mean…

“You can just ask the princess over there,” Kotake says, sounding a bit wounded in her ego, and far more primly than she was a few minutes ago while she was talking about Link’s…

All right, try to focus on something other than the front of Link’s pants, Zelda.

Kotake leaves the room in a huff. Well, that’ll teach me to show doubt of her insanities.

Link follows her with his eyes then turns back to shoot me an inquisitive, slightly disturbed look. I’m in trouble. I can’t look in his eyes. I can’t look at his shirt. I especially can’t look at his pants.

I’ll have to settle for his shoes.

“What was that about?” Link asks, amused, like he doesn’t have any complex and painful love dilemma about me. Hah, big surprise there, Zellie. I try not to look too disappointed.

“She’s convinced I’m going to need the preservatives in my bedside table,” I mumble, choosing to turn my gaze back to Rauru’s document because looking at Link's shoes is just weird and might cause him to realise I can’t look his way without going redder than red.

Link is quiet for a moment, but when he speaks again, he sounds vaguely interested and amused. “Really? Need them with whom?”

You, I think to myself, but then I don’t know that Link would be all that comfortable with that answer. So instead of the truth, I say, “I’m not sure.”

Sorry for the dishonesty, Link. This is for both our sakes.

“Oh.”

There’s a long, awkward silence then. I wonder if maybe he sounds jealous or upset or just plain bored, and then I consider that such things are impossible to determine with just an ‘oh’, and therefore I’m clinically insane if I try to make assumptions.

Oh my Din. What if I become like Kotake? I’d die, for sure.

“I heard from Rauru that you had gotten the document with all the ministers’ descriptions,” Link finally says, as though he hasn’t dwelled on the subject of my romantic affairs for more than a second. How not shocking. What else did I expect? He doesn’t love me, so logically he doesn’t care.

I hold the document up to prove the statement wordlessly. I’m still studying the first page. So many interruptions!

“I know this might sound annoying,” he says, and I briefly wonder how a voice like his could be annoying, “but you’re going to have to put off studying for just a little while more. There’s a guest downstairs that I’d like you to meet.”

Right. No avoiding this. I can’t just say ‘screw that guest; I need to study’. That’s not very queenly.

So I stand, drop the file on my comfy couch then motion for him to lead the way. I walk towards him and the door, but he doesn’t lead the way. He just stays in the doorway, looking at me weirdly.

Oh, damn. “Link…”

“Are you alright?” His dark blonde hair is all scraggly and sexy. His brow is furrowed in mild concern. Oh, for Farore’s sake. This is so unfair.

Just don’t drool, I remind myself. And don’t look at his shirt.

“I’m fine,” I say, though I hate how my voice comes out all squeaky.

“You’re not coming down with a cold, I hope,” he continues, ignoring my claim of being fine. The back of his hand comes to touch my forehead and to check that I’m not feverish. Well, if I wasn’t before I certainly am now. His touch lingers a little longer than strictly necessary. With a serious look, he removes his hand and says, “You seem fine.”

“I am fine,” I repeat, this time with my voice less squeaky but a bit more uncertain.

Link nods, but for safety’s sake, he says, “If you ever feel under the weather, make sure to tell me. We can’t afford to have you sick at such a crucial time.”

With that, he smiles briefly and turns on his heel to guide me downstairs.

I’d just like to say I hate myself. Of course he wouldn’t care for me. He only cares for his job and making Ganondorf Dragmire’s dream fail. I follow him sluggishly, berating myself for being so darn hopeful. This never would have happened if he hadn’t been so good-looking. This is all Link’s fault.

… Boy, am I in denial.

We reach the entrance hall, with the chandelier and everything. Every single light source is lit up to counter the gloomy, rainy day. It casts a warm glow to everything.

I notice that there’s a lot of activity in the hall. Tetra’s assistants are running around with plenty of boxes, chairs, and electric wires.

“They’re setting up tomorrow’s function,” Link comments when he notices what I’m looking at.

I nod. It seems to me like it’s their principal job or something.

Link turns his head and smiles cheerfully at something. I turn as well, and I see a large-shouldered, dark-skinned man with spiked hair and small, benevolent eyes. He looks remarkably like Darunia, actually, except that he has a major wound around his torso that a cast is covering. I wonder what happened to him.

Wait. I know this guy’s face!

“Darmani Stonefist,” Link says warmly, like he’s greeting an old friend. “The famous stuntman from Termina.”

“Link Forester,” the man booms from across the hall upon seeing who called his name. “The infamous publicist from Hyrule. Oh, wait, who is this young lady?” His grin turns into a broad smile. “Could you by any chance be Zelda Harkinian?”

Wow. Link didn’t even have to introduce me. Amazing. I smile and outstretch a hand carefully, hoping that he won’t crush it. “That’s me. Pleased to meet you. I saw your latest movie. Goht, right?”

Darmani shakes my hand, strongly but not painfully. At least he seems to have more mastery over his strength than Darunia does. “Yes, that’s right. Great fun, that one.”

I can’t help but grin. I met my first movie star! How cool!

“Darmani is in Hyrule for a tour. We thought to invite him here, though, since a lot of the ministers enjoy his movies or want his autograph.”

I stare at Link. “I beg your pardon?”

Link chuckles, seeing Darmani’s grin grow. “Impossible, you might say. But it’s true. Popular culture does woo ministers. Sometimes.” Wait. That means I do stand a chance! I know more stuff about popular culture than Ganondorf does, for sure!

“That’s amazing!” I gush. I turn to Darmani excitedly. “Can I have your autograph too?”

Darmani looks pleased and a bit embarrassed. Oh dear. I hope I didn’t make him too uncomfortable. What do I know of Terminian customs?

But then, Darmani grins cheerfully. “Sure,” he chuckles, and I’m relieved. “As long as I get yours.”

It’s my turn to be completely embarrassed. This is the first time anyone has ever asked for my autograph. I hardly know any politicians who do signings nowadays. They’re not exactly popular people. Usually, only rock stars and movie stars actually sign autographs. I’m neither, so it’s a weird feeling.

Darmani takes out a small notepad with a pen and writes down, ‘To the prettiest girl in Hyrule, from Darmani Stonefist’. He tears the page cleanly, and hands it to me. I laugh out loud, but then I notice a logo on the piece of paper in my hand.

“Goronade?” I say, squinting to read the fine print.

Darmani looks proud. “It’s my soda company.” He shoots me a knowing grin. “Best darn soda in all of the Hylian Alliance.”

Really? This makes me extremely uncomfortable. I have no clue what Goronade is. It wasn’t anywhere I could see. There was none in Lakeside and there doesn’t seem to be any in Marcastle. Great. This is going to cause a diplomatic scene. I glance at Link, who seems to expect me to say something. Damn it.

Well, hey, it’s not my fault that a certain kind of soda hasn’t been distributed over borders, after all. I settle for the truth. “Um,” I hesitate, “I’ve never seen Goronade before.” I say this as honestly and apologetically as possible.

“That’s not surprising,” Darmani laughs, waving it off without worry. “I’m here partly to promote it outside Termina.” This makes me impossibly relieved. He may claim it’s the best in the Hylian Alliance, but it’s not like he spread it. I tell you. Promoters.

Darmani even adds, “Want to taste it?”

I glance at Link, who specifies, “Goronade’s an energy drink. It keeps you awake.”

Oh. Hey, that’s a whole other story. “I could use something like that,” I say to Darmani. “I have plenty of studying to do.”

Darmani looks excited, but then Link cuts in.

“I think it’s best if she just gets a taste of it, and not a whole twelve-pack, alright Darmani?”

As Darmani sighs his agreement and retreats back outside in the rain, presumably to fetch the drinks in his car or something, I ask Link, “Hey, I need those drinks, you know. If you want me to be all smart and stuff tomorrow evening.”

Link uses his best no-nonsense face on me. Obviously, I’m this close to melting. “Energy drinks don’t enhance your ability to focus. They give you energy to spend and make you hyperactive. They often lower your awareness. On top of that, a good night’s sleep is far more beneficial to a proper use of your memory than any all-nighter.”

Whoa. He really does know everything. It’s kind of… hot.

Oh, hey, enough, Zellie. You’re supposed to find this pretentious and annoying. You’re supposed to be frustrated that he has a hand in every decision you make. You should rebel against the unhealthy authority he has over you!

“I suppose you’re right,” I mumble.

Bugger.

Darmani returns with his drinks. I grin at the logo. It’s a cute little smiling icon. He hands one to Link, then takes one for himself. We raise our cans and quietly toast. Then, I take a careful sip under Darmani and Link’s gazes.

Hm. This thing tastes like minerals. And it’s very sweet and a tad spicy. How strange. It’s not completely unpleasant, though.

“Not bad,” I finally comment after my first mouthful. “I kind of like it.”

“Kind of?” Darmani repeats good-humouredly, taking a big mouthful of his own drink. Link follows his example quietly. Maybe the weather is affecting him too.

“Well,” I say, as diplomatically as possible, “it would sell well.”

“That’s also what I thought,” Darmani says. “That’s why I’m here. It’s a pretty big thing in Termina. I think there might be a market here and in Calatia for the drink.”

“You should try the whole Hylian Alliance,” I comment, taking another sip.

Darmani looks flattered. “Aw, thanks, Princess.” I laugh. “Princess,” Darmani nods to himself. “That’s good. Now, could you please give me your autograph?” He hands me his notepad and a pen, and says, “Write ‘To my biggest and most loyal fan, Darmani Stonefist, with love, Zelda Harkinian’.”

I giggle and write that, word for word. So what if he’s a bit eccentric? At least he has a sense of humour.

Kind of like Link’s rooster t-shirt.

Don’t think about that.

I hand the notepad back to Darmani. He re-reads it with a broad grin. I finish my can. I do feel something warming me up. It seems like Darmani’s drink is pretty efficient where keeping people awake is concerned.

Link seems to find this too. He looks slightly more perked up than he was ten minutes ago. Of course, now that his eyes are open a bit wider, I can see that the chandelier is making them glow…

Why can’t I seem to focus anymore? This sucks.

Link seems to notice my suddenly sullen look, because he says, “Before you get too moody, I think you should get back to studying.”

I glare at him. “Thanks for that.”

Link looks sympathetic. “Look, study well until eight tonight, then let it rest until tomorrow morning, alright?” He seems a bit helpless, but then he adds, “If you want, I’ll help you then.”

“You’d help me?” I repeat, unable to keep the strong pang of gratitude and hope out of my voice. Link looks like he can’t believe making me happy is so simple.

Darmani, on his part, seems to find this terribly amusing. He laughs until someone calls him from the door. I think it’s like his press-attaché or something. Reluctantly, he pats Link’s shoulder and says, “See you, man.”

Link nods, shaking Darmani’s hand. Hey, why are they so familiar with each other?

Darmani turns to me then bows as a joke. “Princess.” I reach out with a laugh to shake his hand but he merely holds it and says, “Take care of him. It’d be a pity for my ex-counsellor to die of stress.” Ah. Well. That explains that. “We’ll see each other at the coronation, your Highness. I hope you kick Dragmire’s butt like I kicked Goht’s in my last movie. It’s not like you don’t have the charm to do so.”

He glances one last time at Link, who hasn’t said a word, then heads out towards the door. I feel sympathy for him when I see the downpour outside. He doesn’t seem to mind much, though.

And so starts a whole evening of study. The next morning, I wake up to a sunny day with the names and faces of forty ministers all organized in my head and one single thought amidst it all. It hits me the moment I gain full-consciousness, and it fills me with impossible anguish.

I blame Link, of course. If I had just taken all the Goronade and not slept it through like he suggested, I wouldn’t have been able to think logically last night and so I wouldn’t have come to this horrifying conclusion that is sure to make my world a living hell from now on.

That is, I think Link Forester might be the one for me.

And, when he enters my room later on that morning to test my impossibly organized memory, all I can think is…

I am so screwed.