I’d like to pretend that I’m a stunning type of beauty, but it’s always best not to delude myself and just accept facts as they are: I’m a pretty girl with features some women might envy, but that doesn’t make me a top model.

Still, I think every woman should have at least one day in their lives where they get fixed up, made up, dressed up, all professionally. It’s a real good therapy for any self-doubts.

Also, if you can have an audience, it’s all the better.

“What time is it?” I mumble a bit awkwardly as Tatl Rees, a young platinum blonde haired and golden skinned make-up artist I met no earlier than three hours ago when it was still night outside, applies eye-liner to my upper eyelid.

It has always been a mystery to me how applying make-up to one’s eye impedes on the speech pattern. Am I the only one who is unable to apply eyeliner without my mouth hanging half open? I can’t be.

Tatl hardly glances at her wristwatch then returns to her artistic task. “Eight twenty-six.”

Lovely. I try not to slouch in my chair.

A young man comes in the room. He looks a lot like Tatl, but his hair is black with purple dyed tips. I gathered, two hours ago, that Tael Rees was Tatl’s younger brother. He looks exasperated that Tatl still hasn’t finished her work.

“Come on, sis’,” he whines, a bit childishly, “I’ve waited an hour now. Get it over with. I have to put in the finishing touches to her hair.”

The two are from Termina, I also learned. They came to Hyrule to accompany the Godly Trio, as everyone calls Din Seasons, Nayru Ages and Farore Secrets, on their world fashion tour. They’re talented and creative, but can’t seem to keep from bickering.

“I’m trying to finish up,” Tatl says, exasperatedly. “Can’t you see? Stop interrupting me.”

I kind of get Tael’s point, though. I’ve been sitting in this chair getting my nails, hair and make-up done for the past three hours. It doesn’t look like it, but getting pampered can be pretty exhausting.

Whatever. Let me be a diva, will you?

Tael, seeing that it’s no use arguing with his much bossier sister, just sighs and leans against the counter, examining his half-complete masterpiece as well as my make-up job. He grins approvingly. He’s a funny guy, with all those quirky smiles and everything.

He remind me a bit of young gnome, or a little fey. He’s weird like that.

It’s the first day of week four. Right now, I’m in the lounge of a professional photography studio. The idea, as Sheik had indeed hinted, is to take pictures with the Godly Trio to show I’m just as attractive and marketable as them.

Let’s hope he’s right.

“I saw your publicist outside,” Tael says.

Link! Farore, that’s right. He’s been waiting out there in the studio since, what, five this morning? I remember he was doing his best to wake up properly, but…

“When I told him you wouldn’t be ready before some time, he went to fetch himself a steaming extra large espresso,” Tael comments amusedly. “He’s been sitting there groggily, trying to get his eyes to stay open for the past two hours. I think he’s on his third cup.”

“I don’t believe you,” I say. Link’s a morning person, right?

Tael laughs. “Alright. So it’s just his second cup.”

Oh Din. Poor Link.

That’s when I hear excited giggles entering the lounge. I don’t know how it’s possible for an expression or a sound to enter somewhere, but that’s exactly what’s going on.

Three supermodels have just entered the lounge and whatever Tatl and Tael have been doing for me probably was just eclipsed by a big grinning moon. It is unfair, but I don’t hate them. How can anyone hate people this beautiful? This is the first time I see three celebrities in the same room as me.

And I can understand why they’re celebrities.

The tallest of the trio, Din Seasons, is a redheaded, gorgeous, curvaceous woman with gold bracelets and a sexy red dress. Her skin is flawless and radiant, from her exotic, haughty expression to her sandaled toes. I don’t know how much moisturizing cream she uses daily, but I wish I could do the same. Her eyes are just a bit slanted, giving her a mysterious, aesthetic gaze. She walks with the grace of a cat and the confidence of a woman who knows she’s beautiful.

Right behind her is raven-haired Nayru Ages, whose presence is far more angelic than devilish Din. Her skin is just as perfect as Din’s, but even paler if possible. Her eyes are gentle and blue like a winter sky, and her blue dress is elegant and refined. Her gait is controlled, demure, and quiet, like she doesn’t wish to be a bother. Her subdued beauty makes her all the more eye-catching, I guess.

Last but definitely not least, as she’d probably say, Farore Secrets seems to be even younger than Aryll. It’s not unusual for such young girls to be models, and I must say, this time it’s more than justified. Her brown hair looks like silk, but she pulled it up into two practical buns. She looks like the most excitable of the three, with bright, shining green eyes and fair skin. She’s wearing cheerful green shorts and camisole, clearly not as self-conscious as Din and Nayru are.

The moment they notice that I’m also there, it’s like they don’t really know what to make of my presence. How can I blame them? They always do shoots on their own, without a fourth party to intrude. Seriously. I’m like the oddball here.

Tael, seeing that this might lead to an awkward moment, speaks up.

“This is Zelda Harkinian,” he explains to the three models.

Their faces light up. Their sudden warmth surprises me. Before Tatl can express a single complaint, they’ve swarmed me and are asking all sorts of questions about being a princess. Stuff like, “Wow, so you’re Zelda Harkinian? You’re so pretty! Did you audition for the throne?” and “Hey, are there any cute princes to whisk you off?” and even, “Do you get free candy or something?”

I try to answer them as well as possible.

“Um, I’m just Daphne Nohansen’s daughter. No, there aren’t any cute princes.” Like heck I’ll be telling prettier girls than me that I have a hot publicist. “And no, I don’t get free candy. I wish I did.”

They seem amused by how flustered their excitement is making me. They shuffle aside to let Tatl back in front of me. Tatl looks frustrated that her artistic flow was disturbed by giddy models, and is now looking very offended.

Before the three can get even more hyped up, Tael suggests that they get fixed up.

Like three such beauties would need fixing up. Honestly.

Anyhow, that’s how I assist to a typical preparation in these girls’ lives. They start with their dresses, then, Tael fixes their hair, one after the other, and by this time, Tatl is finally done with my make-up and can move on to theirs.

I don’t dare look at myself. Tael comes back to brush my hair and blow it out one last time, then sprays it with who-knows-what. Since the three came in, everything’s been a flurry of activity. They all seem used to the ritual, so they often finish up some of the parts without Tatl or Tael’s help.

All this is overwhelming and sort of depressing. It’s one thing to get yourself fixed up, but it’s quite another if, even fixed up, you don’t compete with everyone else in the picture. That sucks.

That’s why, when they’re done adjusting their clothes, I still avoid looking at them. The last thing I need is to lose all my self-esteem.

It’s not like I had much to start with. Nayru forbid I’d kiss it away like that.

… Nayru the goddess, I mean, not the model.

How confusing.

Din leans against the counter and looks at me as I stare fixedly at my shoes. Tatl left to fetch the dress they want me to wear. The concept is that I’m going to be all princess-y while Din, Farore and Nayru wear adjusted suits, as though they were my ―very attractive― bodyguards. I don’t mind much. The concept has merit. It focuses on me while putting them in the spotlight too.

Din, for instance, is wearing a striped black jacket with an orange blouse under it. Her tie is black, and her pants are adjusted, straight and clean, striped black like her jacket. She’s wearing lots of bracelets and huge earrings. Her red hair is pulled back into a big ponytail that swishes whenever she moves. If the world needed a bodyguard, it’d want the bodyguard to look like Din Seasons.

Okay, fine, I’ll admit. I looked. Fat lot of good it did me too. Now for sure I know I won’t be that pretty.

Dammit.

“Seriously, though,” she says, and for the first time, I notice she has a sort of drawl. She’s from Holodrum, so the distance might explain it, “Why are you competing against Ganondorf Dragmire anyway?”

I sigh. Nayru, wearing a cream coloured suit with a blue tie, smiles at me encouragingly, to make me answer Din. Beside her, Farore, wearing earthy tones and a green tie, looks my way with curious eagerness.

To Din, I say, “My father didn’t want the country of Hyrule to fall into Ganondorf’s hands. Word has it he’d become a tyrant.”

Nayru looks gently sympathetic. “That’d be awful. It’s a good thing you’re in the competition, then, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” I mumble, examining my manicured fingernails morosely.

I don’t see why they care much. I mean, they’re not from Hyrule. Din and Farore are from Holodrum, while Nayru is from Labrynna. They’re just on tour here.

Farore, who until then seems to have contained a great deal of excitation, suddenly says, “What about his friends, Veran Black, Onox Gorgon and Agahnim Veils?”

I turn to look her way. She seems so naïve, but obviously she knows more about politics than she lets on. Smart kid.

“Well, they’re not exactly a bunch of party animals either,” I say, as diplomatically as possible. I don’t know if they don’t secretly approve of Agahnim or Onox. Somehow, I doubt it, but one is never too sure.

“I heard Onox was into Hyrule’s money,” Din comments blandly, not really caring to see my reaction. “They say he was sticking to Dragmire for the financial rewards.”

“Yes,” Nayru nods. “I heard that Agahnim too was in some sort of agreement with Ganondorf Dragmire. Something or other about making public lands private. I’m not sure what exactly that’s about, but…” She glances at me, as though I could magically provide some answers.

To me, it makes a bit more sense. Every one of Ganondorf’s so-called friends is in it for something. Ganondorf himself wants the power, obviously. Veran Black is in it for the power trip, her love life, and possibly for the underground protection. Agahnim Veils seems likely to want a large estate himself, maybe a vast area of land for him to possess and make money off of. As for Onox Gorgon, the giant right arm, money and power would probably satisfy him.

I feel a dull hatred for the four of them.

How dare they think of Hyrule as something to be used to selfish purposes? What of the people?

“At least,” Din drawls a bit, looking straight at me, “you can easily outdo them.”

I laugh a bit cynically. “Sure. One can only hope.”

“Please,” Din says, rolling her eyes, “you don’t know how much impact you actually have.”

“And it doesn’t matter for now,” Tatl comments, returning with a big plastic pouch. Inside I can only assume is the dress she wants me to wear. “Out,” she commands, and the Godly Trio obeys, heading for the studio door.

As they exit, Tatl unzips the plastic cover and pulls out my dress.

It’s gorgeous. In pink and white, it’s like a piece of spring turned into a garment. The sleeves are off the shoulder, and the skirt itself is just flowing enough that it enhances my waist. The waistline, actually, is pretty low, so it hugs my body.

I stand in front of the floor-length mirror, and I almost can’t believe that what I see inside is my own reflection.

Meanwhile, a chorus of giggles from the studio rises. This shouldn’t be alarming, but the fact that their laughs are answered by a voice that is very familiar to me contributes to my panic.

Link is still out there. The three goddesses are talking to Link.

That’s it. I no longer stand a chance.

Seriously, though, how can I possibly be anywhere near as attractive as them? Sure, I’m amazingly pretty in this dress, but realistically, I don’t even compare.

Tatl hands me a pair of gloves. I put them on, wondering why they even bothered with a manicure if it’s going to wind up hidden in white gloves.

Oh. Great. I’m bummed out and it’s showing. At least, Tatl noticed it.

“I put your make-up on to enhance your smile,” she says, in her best no-nonsense tone. “If you frown, you look like a clown.”

How spontaneous.

“That’s a lovely rhyme,” I comment sullenly. Meanwhile, I consider that everything is against me today. Ganondorf Dragmire is still more popular than me, and all his friends are plotting to dilapidate Hyrule property, basically resulting in the country’s destruction. And now, the three most beautiful women in the Hylian Alliance, against whom I don’t even compare, have surrounded Link, the hottest guy I ever met.

This sucks.

“I’m not asking you to appreciate poetry,” Tatl is saying, exasperatedly. “I want you to smile! I’ve seen you on the news. I know you can do it.”

She has a point. What comes first is my winning against Ganondorf Dragmire. My crush on my super hot publicist can wait forever, for all I care. If he doesn’t know what’s best for him, ―me, I mean, ― then it’s his loss.

Oh darn, who am I kidding?

I smile, but it’s because Tatl asked me to. All right, be positive. I look almost as good as Din, Farore and Nayru ―the models, not the goddesses.

Oh, now that might get really confusing. I can’t help but associate those three names to cursing. I might as well replace the goddesses’ names with just ‘gods’. That’s sure to get rid of the confusion. I might even start a trend!

The thought makes me smile, this time without thinking about Link getting with someone else. There’s nothing I can do about Link’s affections, but I can at least look good enough for Hyrule.

“That’s better,” Tatl approves, when she notices my smile grow genuine. Already, I feel a bit better. “Ready?” She asks.

I nod, and finally step out into the studio area. I immediately spot Link. He’s slouching ―slouching! Talk about posture! ― in a folding chair, surrounded by Din, Farore and Nayru. The dream of every male in the world incarnated before his eyes, and actually, he doesn’t even seem overly fascinated.

Instead of drooling, as a lesser man would, he’s smiling and conversing politely, his empty cup of coffee cradled between his hands. To my joy, he looks just as tired as before, in spite of his happy company.

Let’s say the facts, though: even the Godly Trio can’t resist Link’s charms.

It’s good to know I at least have taste.

Farore notices me first. Her face stretches into a gorgeous, impressed smile.

“Oh,” Din says, her eyes going from Link’s sinewy arms to me, “Nice work.” Her drawl stretches her syllables. “Hardly any changes, hm?”

That’s when Link looks up. I notice his eyes widen, just slightly, before he gets a hold of himself. He sits up straighter, coming to full attention. I can see his gaze roving from my hair to my shoes and back up again, like he can’t trust that I, little Miss Ordinary, have become queenly.

Well, well… Looks like he’s not that immune after all.

The Trio lets him pass when he stands to examine me more closely.

I feel myself heat up. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes my throat close up and my heart beat faster. There’s a sort of intensity about him… I can’t pinpoint why he looks like this, but it makes me really mushy inside. Really, guys who look at girls this way should know that it’s risky: it can make them overheat.

Link finally stops in front of me. He looks down at everything Tatl and Tael have done for me. After a really long contemplative pause, he says, his voice deep and a tiny, quirky smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “… Your highness.”

That’s it. I have lost all solid consistency and have melted into a warm, happy puddle of joy.

No coherent answer comes to mind, much less a witty one, so it’s a relief when another voice breaks in.

“Alright, everyone’s ready?” It’s Mr. Deku King, the photographer. He’s a stout, short, small-eyed man with a thick, tanned skin that’s all wrinkled. Too much sun does that to a person.

It hardly takes fifteen minutes for him to have positioned the three goddesses and myself on the set. The background is a milky white, with just a delicate, ornamented throne in the middle. He has me sit as daintily as possible in it, and places Din, Farore and Nayru around me. Din is over my shoulder, Nayru at my side, and Farore near my feet, sitting comfortably.

“Family portrait,” he says, returning to behind his camera. To himself, but loudly, he mumbles, “The four most beautiful women in the Hylian Alliance.”

For the next few hours, he has us smile, shift, smile, smile naturally, move, grin, shift, laugh, move, jump, smirk, smile, stand, crouch, smile again, take off the gloves, put on the gloves, look surprised, look over the shoulder, stand separately, stand together, sit in a circle.

Every time he asks me to smile, I glance at Link, and I remember the way he looked at me, and I grin the prettiest smile I can possibly manage. At least, now my publicist is awake, so he’s paying close attention to whatever is going on. Not long ago, Tael brought him another tall cup of coffee. So he’s been all-smiles since, too.

Predictably, it’s the most attractive thing ever.

I know I’m not being subtle, but I don’t care. The large projectors are half-blinding me. I can blame them for the direction my eyes keep returning to.

Just when I start thinking that this dress is uncomfortable when under hot projectors, King has me change to a suit that resembles the three others’. Mine, though, has a pink shirt with a grey jacket and pants suit. Instead of a tie, my collar is open to show my collarbone.

Plus, I get a hat. Sweet!

Again, we take a few more hundred pictures. The question is, how many are they going to keep?

“Alright,” King commands. “Now you can all relax. Be natural. Talk together. I’ll change the memory cartridge on this thing and we’ll start again.”

I slump a bit. Din, Farore and Nayru sit on the floor quietly.

Finally, when she realises that Link is out of hearing range, Farore leans forward and asks, “So what’s the deal with you and him?”

Whoa. Straight to the point, isn’t she?

“What?” I ask, because the fact that I still haven’t made a move on him is rather embarrassing. Also, I don’t want to talk about this when there’s a tiny possibility of him overhearing it.

“Oh, come on,” Din smirks. “He’s a cutie. Don’t deny it.”

Like heck I’d deny it. I’d have to be blind not to notice how gorgeous he is.

“Can we discuss something else?” I ask.

I look in Nayru’s direction because she’s the most mild-mannered of the three. Hopefully she’ll have pity of me and find something to distract her companions with.

Effectively, Nayru just smiles at me in kind amusement and says, “Now, girls. Let’s not pressure Zelda. She has a lot to worry about already without our incentive.”

Farore shoots me a suspicious stare and asks, in a low voice, “Okay. Simple question. Is he all business, all friends, or all love?”

Do not look at Link, Zelda. Do not look at him.

“We’re just friends,” I whisper, thankful that the hum of the projectors can cover up part of our conversation.

Din and Farore, clearly the most teasing of the trio, look disappointed.

“Fine,” Din grumbles. “Don’t tell us the truth.”

Hey, I am telling the truth! It’s a sad reality, but at least I didn’t make it up! I tell you. People need to learn to have faith or something.

Din crosses her arms. “Now tell me how you’re planning to get rid of Ganondorf Dragmire.”

That’s a good question, I think. Sure, I wonder why she’s interested by the politics of it, but whatever.

How exactly am I going to mess with Ganondorf’s party anyway? There must be some way to blackmail him. Better yet, if there was information about him that was so horrible that he’d have no choice but to back out of the race, then I’d not only piss him off, I’d also win. How cool would that be?

Here’s a hint: very.

“Well,” I say, “I don’t know for sure. If you have any information to help me, maybe I could figure something out.”

Farore grins broadly. “A press revelation, hm?”

“Sure,” I acquiesce. “But I want to play fair. No inventions, just facts.”

“And make sure you can’t be accused wrongly,” Din mumbles comprehensively.

I grin. “Of course. I might even use his flawed rumours about me against him. Make him into the liar he is.”

Approvingly, Nayru concludes, “You’ll fight his lies with true, hard fact.” She glances around at her two companions with a smile. “I think we can help you.”

This strikes me as truly shocking. What can three supermodels possibly do to help me? Since when do they have a hand in politics anyway?

Din notices my incredulity. She says, confidently, “To fight him, strike him where he is most confident. In this case, his authority.”

Is she thinking of something specific? I ask, “Do you have something in mind?”

Din manages to look mildly offended. “Please. I always do. For now,” she grins, “just play it cool. Remember that you’re far more likeable than him. You’re new and good-hearted.”

I gaze at each of them in turn. Why are they helping me? There must be a trick. “Nothing is ever free. What’s your motive?”

Farore grimaces. “Dragmire wants to cut our promotion funds here, in Hyrule.”

Din sighs, exasperated. “Look, girl. Promise you won’t cut our funds and we’re in with you. We’re influential enough.”

“I won’t cut your funds if you give me your autographs,” I say back, because frankly I could use their help too.

“We’ll give you our autographs,” Din smirks, “if you give us yours.”

I grin. “Deal.”

“Deal.”

The four of us exchange big conspiratorial smiles, when suddenly we hear a click. I turn to look at Mr. King, who lowers his camera.

“What’s the deal?” He asks. “You were pure natural. Don’t get out of the mood. Keep going.”

Darn, I hadn’t noticed he was back. So much for evil plotting.

My eyes wander to King’s side, where Link is sitting in his folding chair again, looking at us in amused contemplation. His blue eyes are glinting with it.

Oh, gods. Link just watched me bantering with the Godly Trio. There’s no mistaking his grin either. I try to look as innocent as possible, but he just shakes his head fondly and reclines in his chair, hands joined behind his head casually.

His shirt bunches up at his shoulders, and he looks completely delectable there.

Whoa. Gorgeous alert. I can’t help but stare out of the corner of my eye.

As Din shuffles to find a more comfortable pose, I hear her mumble, “Just friends? My ass.”

Darn, I consider as we all try to find something new for the camera. Maybe she’s omniscient, like a real goddess. Because I think she may just know something about it.

Link rolls his shoulders to stretch. Oh, bugger.

I think I might be doomed.