Of course, I consider, as I exit my room and see him all dressed up for the function, Link just had to look like sin. He just had to have that tux with that red bowtie and he just had to have gelled his dark blonde hair just right so that it looks stylishly dishevelled.

He just had to have those perfect shiny black leather shoes and he just had to have shaved his stubble so that his face looked like a model’s straight off a magazine.

He just had to have that pale red carnation on his lapel. Malon had once told me that pale red meant admiration. How fitting, considering that he would probably be the least titled amongst the people here tonight and therefore would want to express, in a subtle way, his respect for the ministers.

It’s so hard to imagine that he’s the same guy as the one who wears ‘Suck My Rooster’ t-shirts on normal days.

Link smiles at me, and eventually says, “That dress looks beautiful on you.”

I look down at myself and smile. “Thank you.” I can’t say I look half-bad, actually. Tetra ordered this dress from a renowned seamstress in Marcastle called Maple. She actually comes from Holodrum, and started a shop in Hyrule. She apparently wants to build up a name before heading into the Calatian fashion market.

She made a dress especially for tonight, with the right measurements. It’s a simple ivory thing with pink embroidery. There’s a sheet of gauzy soft material to cover my shoulders, but the dress is otherwise simple and cute.

Plus, it’s cut aslant, so you can see up to my knee. Since Sheik has started training me, my legs have become rather sexy, so I like the cut. It’s sophisticated without being vulgar.

Coupled with heels I can’t walk in, I think I look rather fantastic.

Link seems to have noticed it. He doesn’t say anything, though. He just offers me his arm with an appreciative look.

“Ready?”

I suck in a breath to calm myself. Malon, Ruto and Anju aren’t in the palace today. They spent all day outside of the palace grounds to keep out of the function preparations. I don’t blame them. It was hectic, getting everything ready. I didn’t even see Tetra all day. She was too busy managing everything. I know she’s going to be there, but as Rauru’s assistant, so I won’t be able to talk with her much.

Link is going to be my assistant for tonight. He’s going to be my backup if I forget a minister’s name or anything else, like a live, sexy notebook. I put my hand on his arm and breathe, “Ready.”

We walk to the lobby balcony, from the second floor. The idea is for me to make my entrance by descending the winding staircase there.

When we arrive at the balcony, I look down and see a mass of men and women, the majority of which are the ministers and their halves. I recognise some faces and struggle to recall their names.

“Don’t focus on their identities for now,” Link softly recommends and we walk to the stairs. Everyone seems to be looking our way. I’ve never felt so scrutinized before.

This is essential to my success, I consider.

I think I’m grateful that Link was near me all along, because I probably would have tripped and fallen a couple of times on those stairs. His arm was there the whole time, and he didn’t seem to mind that I’d sometimes grip him a bit tighter to keep my balance. Bloody heels.

It was kind of hard not to notice that his sleeve was warm under my palm, too.

When we finally reach the ground floor, he seems to relax. He carefully drops his arm, and I try not to mourn the loss of his comforting warmth. I know his role, though. From this moment on, he just has to stay close by and observe everything I do, ready to step in if I ever need his help.

And thus starts the most mind-straining exercise I ever had to do. Forget algebra in college. This is ten times more complex.

Many men come forward with their spouses, and I have to greet them by their names and greet their wives once they’re presented to me. I have to smile and look at ease while talking about each minister’s little quirks.

For instance, Mr. Bagu owns a riverboat worth a million rupees at least on which he spends almost every vacation he has. Mr. Aginah is one of the co-writers of the Book of Mudora Translation Table, which I studied during High School. Mr. Abe once owned a pig, which he took to every cabinet meeting. It died because his wife overfed it. Mr. Baito once helped the construction of the multi-levelled airport in Roost Island, since he first studied in engineering. Mr. Bipin is a young father who had the ministers’ cabinet vote a name for his first child!

Then, there’s Mr. Bremor, who was a punk in his younger years, but who later grew strong by involving himself in the poultry industry. He eventually associated himself with Mr. Cojiro, a biologist who developed a rare species of Blue Cuckoos, when they were introduced to each other upon Mr. Cojiro’s nomination as minister. There’s Mr. Butler, a hardly expressive man who, sadly, lost his son three years ago. The blow was near impossible for him to bear. They say he and his son loved racing, but now Mr. Butler just isn’t the same anymore.

There’s Mr. Carlov, who was once a sculptor of great renown but who, unexpectedly, turned to politics ten years ago. Beside him is Mr. Dekadin, a man whose idea of fun is sitting in a quiet room and staring into space. They say he sometimes suffers from clinical depression, but apparently if you tell him a good joke, he perks up and shows good spirit.

In the back, talking to Mr. Troy, a minister who was once a leading biologist in all things wildlife, is Doctor Bandam, a man who once discovered a healing method relying on natural animal secretions. It’s kind of gross, if you think about it, but it seems to have made his fortune.

In a corner is Mr. Error, a quiet man who speaks as though his native language disappeared long ago. It’s a bit weird, but once you get used to it, you find out he’s pretty smart and cool. Next to him, observing everything quietly, is Mr. Fishman, a man who seems to know a little bit about everything and anything. It’s fun, since he can teach you the weirdest, most mundane things.

In the middle of the room, talking animatedly, are three ministers whose wives seem vaguely uninterested by their antics. They’re Mr. Gummy, Mr. Kane and Mr. Loot, who upon discovering that they all liked sailing, formed a club of sailors that seems like good fun. The thing is, they often leave their wives home because they get seasick. I offer my sympathies to those poor women, and still converse amiably with the three sailors.

Listening intently next to the group are Mr. Garrickson and Mr. Gossack. Mr. Garrickson is the kind who refuses the arrival of new technology and insists on writing and posting letters instead of using the net. Mr. Gossack, on his part, seems like the scared type. The barest noise or someone initiating a conversation with him startles him. I wonder why he’s so jumpy, but whatever.

Against a wall is Mr. Guru-Guru, a man said to be slightly insane but who nevertheless enjoys good music. They say he was once an orchestra leader, but retired because he had strange mood swings.

I lean towards Link as we step away from Mr. Guru-Guru and whisper, “It’s reassuring to consider he’s now a minister.”

Link smirks, leaning towards me and saying, “You’re doing good. I didn’t even have to come forward.”

“Thanks. It’s because I studied well,” I smile.

The whirlwind continues as I meet a giant, muscled man and a tiny, thin other. They’re Mr. Gabora and Mr. Zubora, two men who were chosen as ministers for no apparent reason. Before that, they were leading tycoons in the metallurgy industry. Maybe that’s why. Hidden in their shadow is Mr. Kamaro, an old, sickly pale man who apparently was a fabulous classic dancer in his time. Ever since he founded his dance school, he’s been educating younger generations in the art. He’s a bit strange and talks like a poet, but otherwise, he’s nice enough.

There’s a young man next to him who looks tired and a bit down. He’s Mr. Kamo. They say he’s only happy when he’s talking about astronomy, so to humour him, I ask him which moon he finds prettiest, full or new? This gets him excited and we discuss astronomy for a while, before Link has to come forward and excuse me, explaining that I still have to talk to a few others. Still, Mr. Kamo looks like he feels a bit better.

As Link and I stroll in the crowd, Mr. Patch, Mr. Pippin and Mr. Rafton accost us. Mr. Patch was once in the roofing industry. Mr. Pippin is still in the farming industry. He’s one of the biggest owners of land in Hyrule. Mr. Rafton was part of the construction industry. Now, he’s focusing all his energy on the government. I make small talk with them. They seem excited to finally meet me. I’m flattered.

I walk on to find Mr. Kreeb, Mr. Sam and Mr. Tokkey. Mr. Kreeb was the owner of an amusement park before he sold it. Mr. Sam, for all I know, has always been in politics. Mr. Tokkey is a part-time composer. They’re all calmly discussing various events. They seem like a bunch of pretty normal and somewhat boring ministers.

I can see Mr. Salvatore, a bored looking man with, they say, personality issues. I don’t linger around him for very long, since I notice that two ministers are arguing rather loudly. I notice Mr. Orca and Mr. Sturgeon debating which of the military force or the education system deserve more funds. I step in to try and settle the dispute, but a calm hand settles on my shoulder and I turn to see Mr. Keaton, a fox-like, thin man with exotic features, who calmly suggests that I don’t get involved.

Mr. Lenzo, a journalist that recycled himself in politics, joins him. He too looks wise and cultured. It probably comes from being a journalist. They engage in a philosophical conversation that frankly doesn’t interest me, so I move on.

Another debate is going on between Mr. Mutoh, a former architect, and Mr. Viscen, the minister of national security, regarding the pertinence of industrial development in remote regions. I listen curiously, because I’m interested in the subject. When they notice my presence, they greet me vaguely then return to their debate.

I don’t get to hear the conclusion of it because I notice Mr. Sokra, a philosopher who became a politician to make a difference in the world, and Mr. Sahasrahla, the eldest of the ministers. They’re both wise men that I admire greatly. I step forward to introduce myself, but then the only other minister I hadn’t seen, Mr. Sakon, steps forward and engulfs my hand in his cheerfully.

I don’t know if I like this guy much. He seems like a shady fellow. He looks way too happy to see me. Still, I stay polite. His vote in my favour could be pivotal in my ascension to the throne.

Mr. Sakon leans forward and says, with an eloquent look, “That dress looks wonderful on you.”

Somehow, this doesn’t make me nearly as tingly as when Link said it.

“Thank you,” I answer him, smiling prettily. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

Mr. Sakon just keeps holding my hand, smiling, without another word. I clear my throat and try to extricate my hand from his, but he holds onto it firmly. What the heck is he doing?

“Ah,” Sakon finally says, “here they come.”

I turn to look in the direction he’s smiling at. And I feel my blood run cold.

In the doorway, wearing a classy tuxedo that enhances his large shoulders, is Ganondorf Dragmire. He’s talking with Rauru, a serious look on his face. I glance beside Rauru and see Tetra’s less than smiling look. She’s on Ralph arm.

Ralph, on his part, doesn’t look nearly as concerned. He glances across the room and grins at me. The sight of his smile makes some of my dread go away. Obviously, Ganondorf wouldn’t try to harm anyone tonight. That’d be like political and legal suicide.

On Ganondorf’s arm is a slinky, dark haired, pale-skinned woman. Her features are sharp and unforgiving, though they still retain a sort of fatal beauty that seems to freeze the air around her.

I feel Link breaking in between Sakon and I. I look up at him gratefully, but he hardly glances at me. In a very serious tone, he whispers, “That’s Veran Black.”

What??

I look back at Ganondorf Dragmire and Veran Black, feeling the pieces fall together. So it seems Ganondorf has been using his girlfriend to destroy me. How lovely.

“Behind him…” Link starts, but then Sakon tries to reach for me again. I see him place a hand on Sakon’s shoulder and shove him off gently with a deadly glare. If Sakon hadn’t gotten the message before, he certainly got it now. Link’s glare is scary.

“Behind him,” he continues as though he hadn’t been interrupted, “are Agahnim Veils and Onox Gorgon, his two closest allies. I wouldn’t say they’re friends with Ganondorf, but they feed off his power.”

I examine the two men in question. Agahnim Veils is clearly the oldest of the foursome. He’s a wrinkled man with a hooknose and cruel eyes. His clean clothes are more ample than necessary, as though he’s trying to hide his true size. He seems to consider the room with the utmost contempt. I immediately detest him.

Onox Gorgon, on his part, looks quieter, like he hasn’t got the brains of the team. He’s more like the muscle power of it. And it’s not surprising. He’s a towering, massive, square-jawed man with epaulets and a build that would make even Darunia look like a toothpick. The sight of him fills me with uncertainty. He seems to cast the whole room in his shadow.

The forty ministers, noticing the new arrivals, don’t seem overly concerned. They’re probably used to Ganondorf, Veran, Agahnim and Onox by now.

But I’m not. I take a deep breath when Ganondorf scans the crowd and finally settles his dark, piercing gaze on me. I do my best not to avert my eyes, but it’s hard. He commands a certain presence… If I ever had any hopes of winning some votes over, it’s like he just dashed them all.

Link too seems to hold Ganondorf’s gaze. I appreciate his support, because I don’t know how I would have done alone.

Beside Ganondorf is the bitch who made up false rumours about me. Eventually, Veran notices me and sends me a cold, bone-chilling smile, like she knows what she has done to me and feels no regrets. She even reaches for Ganondorf’s arm, but he just brushes her off.

I notice something in Veran’s eyes, then. Hurt mixed with hatred.

It hits me like a ton of bricks. Veran is in love with Ganondorf. She’s doing his bidding in hope that he’ll glance her way. But, as I can clearly see when he just strides away from her, he hardly cares. He just uses her devotion to his advantage.

A pang of sympathy comes over me, but then she turns and glares at me like it’s my fault, and any form of compassion I felt vanishes. I hate her.

Link places his hand on my arm. I can see Ganondorf walked away from Rauru, who seems relieved to be released of that pressure, and is coming straight for me. My first instinct is to run like a prey about to be trapped, but Link’s hand reassures me, somehow, and keeps me steady when I feel like wavering.

Ganondorf stops in front of me, smiling as pleasantly as a monster can. I just stare up at him, doing my best to seem confident. Rauru’s words echo in my head. Ganondorf Dragmire won’t let me live my victories out.

“Miss Nohansen,” he says, faking courtesy. I hate when he calls me that. “How wonderful to meet you again.” He gives me a once over. “Lovely dress.”

“Thank you,” I answer him, just as pleasantly. The tension is almost tangible. “Lovely tux.” At least he has fashion sense for himself, if not for the Royal Guard.

“I know,” he says, still courteous.

All right. This small talk is killing me.

Link’s hand has dropped to my back, but I feel his heat scalding me through the fabric of my dress. It’s both reassuring and alarming. Ganondorf seems to notice this. With a broader smile, he says, in Link’s direction, “Why, Mr. Forester. Fancy meeting you here. Did you get promoted, by any chance?”

I hate this man so much. Like Link needs a promotion to mingle with the great ones!

“No,” Link answers, coldly. “I’m here to ensure everything goes well.” Not a complete lie, although he’s not overseeing everything: just me.

Ganondorf Dragmire smiles. “And that implies following the little princess around like a dog?”

I can see that Link is doing his best to stand his ground, but the attack clearly got to him. “I’m just doing my job.” He says this venomously.

Ganondorf knows exactly what Link is trying to do. I can see it in his eyes. But he doesn’t let Link evade the attacks. He says, “I fail to see how Miss Nohansen might want a helpless publicist trailing her everywhere. It doesn’t exactly make her seem independent.”

Son of a…

I expect Link to retort to that, but he doesn’t. I notice we’re attracting a lot of the surrounding attention. If I’m not careful and if Link doesn’t mind his words, we could become the bad people here, getting into arguments and all that…

Why isn’t Link saying something?

I turn to look at Link, and he’s just staring stonily at Ganondorf like he’s never hated something or someone more in his whole life. I don’t like that look.

I turn back to say, to Ganondorf, “Must you be so unpleasant?”

I think neither Ganondorf nor any of the ministers and their wives expected me to be so upfront about Ganondorf’s behaviour. They look amongst themselves, shocked that I would bring this up so simply. I guess by now they were all so used to having Ganondorf comment hypocritically like that, so in a way my blunt question might seem either tactless or extremely courageous.

Either way, I can’t back out now. “It’s not enough having your date spread false and cruel rumours about me, you also have to come up straight to my publicist and try to down tune how patient and kind he is?”

Ganondorf doesn’t answer me directly. Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. “I do suppose people have to be patient to deal with you.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, please. I heard better comebacks during my grade school years.” And it’s true, and it shows.

Dragmire laughs, leaning forward. “Really? And where did you study anyway?”

I smile right back, defiantly. “Lakeside elementary, high and college. And let me assure you, once I’ve lived through that hell, even a tall, dark, power-hungry politician won’t faze me.”

There are gasps all around the room. I don’t think anyone expected Ganondorf to be rebuked like this. Well, screw it. I’m not going to let him step all over me or anyone else.

“Power-hungry?” Ganondorf repeats quietly, looking less and less pleasant. “I see,” he says. “And tell me, did you ever go to university?”

This is my weakness and he knows it. What sort of queen hasn’t been to university?

“I didn’t have the money to,” I admit. All around the room, people have grown silent. “I wasn’t born with riches in my pockets.” I feel like I’m defending myself now. Before, I was on an attacking stance, now, he flipped it around and is holding a metaphorical knife to my throat. “All my life I struggled to make enough money to live somewhat comfortably.”

“So that’s why you’re here?” Ganondorf exclaims, and I see he knows he won. He knows that there is nothing I can say to his next argument. “You’re here because you just want the money?”

Veran, Agahnim and Onox begin to laugh. I feel terror fill my every vein, because there is no proof of the contrary, even though it’s a lie. I’m stuck without an alibi.

“She’s here because she’s Nohansen’s daughter,” Link quietly but sternly says, breaking in. His voice next to me is surprising. I had expected him to stay quiet after Ganondorf’s rebuttal, which is why I’d taken up both our defences. But now, hearing him come to my rescue is one of the most comforting things that ever happened to me. His voice is gentle, but he clearly won’t let Ganondorf win. “If we’re to judge from lineage, she has more reason to be queen than you have to be king.”

This causes even more gasps. I look at Link sharply, thinking that maybe that was out of place, but he just stares at Ganondorf Dragmire, not meeting my eyes.

There’s something kind of heroic about Link that makes me want to rely on him completely. Obviously, Ganondorf doesn’t see Link’s heroism. He just scoffs and gives me a disdainful look, the kind Veran uses. I can sort of see why she likes him: he reminds her of herself.

Hah. I’m so funny.

“Lineage does nothing for the country if you don’t have the education and strength it takes to rule it,” he says, loudly, as though he’s trying to end my case.

I want to retort, but Link’s fingers press into my lower back in warning. He wants to answer Dragmire. He was expecting it. He knows what to say.

I trust him.

“Zelda Harkinian is strong,” he affirms without a single doubt in his voice. “She knows what she wants, she is fierce about defending what and whom she cares for.” His eyes go narrow. “And, frankly, I would rather have a woman who paid for most of her lessons in life than a man who learned to read with a book lined with his father’s rupees.” His gaze hardens. “She knows better than any of us what flaws this country has, and she has the heart to make a difference. Don’t assume your diplomas are worth more. A piece of paper has nothing on wisdom.”

There’s a long silence. Ganondorf obviously sees that he can’t say anything heartless about my past, no matter how much he wants to, because that would make him lose the debate through sheer cruelty.

I expect someone to say something, anything, but the silence stretches. And then, I hear Ralph.

“Nicely said,” he grins from across the room. Beside him, Tetra rolls her eyes.

This seems to make the whole room relax. Great, there’s another reason for me to thank Ralph Ambi.

I also notice Rauru is standing by Ezlo Picori and Kaepora Gaebora, who must have appeared at some point during the argument. The three of them are smiling benevolently in my direction.

But a lot of other ministers and wives are looking at me with untrusting eyes, like I was the one who started the argument with Ganondorf or something.

It’s so unfair.

Suddenly, out of the crowd, I see Sahasrahla coming forward. He’s tired and bent with old age, with a long white beard and thick white brows, so that his squinting eyes are hardly visible. The guy basically spells out ‘wisdom’.

“The young man,” he says with a shaky, old voice that still catches everyone’s attention, “has a point. It is not the number of years that counts, but the quality of those years. And yet,” Sahasrahla says when I joyfully start to think that he’s on my side, “there is something to be said for experience.”

Wait. Whose side is he on?

Ganondorf Dragmire seems to find the whole conversation has taken a ridiculous turn. He scoffs at Sahasrahla and says, “We’ll have to see in the end who is more apt at governing a country.”

“So we shall,” Sahasrahla confirms, peacefully, like he hasn’t taken sides at all and is simply breaking up any further argument.

It’s a bit frustrating, but I’m grateful to him. Sure, Dragmire obviously resents me, but at least he and Link won’t get into a fistfight.

Speaking of Link, as he watches Ganondorf walk away, I notice that he still looks sullen, despite the draw outcome of our most recent face-off with Dragmire. I mean, okay, it’s not a victory, but at least it’s not a defeat.

Link leans towards me, and I notice that his hand isn’t on my lower back anymore. Without looking in my eyes, he whispers, “I’m sorry for that. I should have warned you they’d be here.”

I can’t believe he’s apologizing for this. “It’s alright,” I answer him. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have warned you,” Link insists, scanning the crowd like he can’t look at me directly.

I, on the other hand, have no trouble looking straight at him. “Link, don’t be stupid. You’re not the one who started this argument. We just defended ourselves.”

This time, he looks up and his blue eyes meet mine. Around us, a couple of people have overheard me and seem to realise that I just said the truth as it is. We really were just defending ourselves from Ganondorf. Still, Link says, “He used me to make you look less experienced.”

For a moment, I don’t understand what he’s getting at. And then, I realise it. Link feels guilty. He thinks the argument today was his fault. He thinks it ruined my chances.

This is absurd.

“He’d have attacked me anyway, with or without you. Except…” I try my best to express my gratitude, “if you hadn’t been there, I might have lost the argument.”

Actually, I would have lost without a doubt, but if people are listening to us, it’s best to pretend. Link seems to contemplate this in silence. For a long time we just look at each other.

Then, he finally says, in a low voice so that only I can hear him, “You and I are never going to allow this again.”

I can’t help a smile, and we seal the deal with friendly nods.

“You got that right,” I agree.

Never again will Ganondorf mess with us. We’re going to crash his party with all the possible fireworks. He won’t know what hit him.

But, oh, is he going to get what’s coming to him.