So even though Darunia didn’t spill the beans about my liking Link, I managed well enough on my own. In fact, I’ve been knocking my head against the metaphorical wall ever since that damned kiss.

It doesn’t help that it keeps replaying in my mind all the time, telling me to go get more.

Stupid hormones.

Why didn’t I control myself? Now I messed up so bad that Link’s been clearly avoiding me all day. And I actually need his support for once: my interview with Marjorie Majora is at primetime tonight and my stress level has risen to dramatic heights.

But he’s been busy all day, probably piling work on purpose so he doesn’t have to speak to me, and rather than embarrass myself any further, I’m lying on my bed, sulking and trying to control my anguish.

Someone knocks at my door. I swear if it’s Link asking to talk, I’m feigning hysteria and getting sent to Jabu’s asylum where I belong. It’s better than facing him.

Instead of Link, though, I see Tetra.

Wow. It’s been a while. She’s been so busy with coronation preparations and everything.

She sends me a flat and eloquent look. “I have no idea why you are in such a foul mood, but Link wanted me to keep an eye on your stress level. Why he asked me, the biggest nerve ball around here, to do it, I’ll never know.”

“Because he doesn’t want to do it himself,” I mumble morosely.

“Right,” Tetra says, clearly not paying much attention to my mood. She holds out a sheet of paper to me. “Here’s a list of national concerns he’d like you to acquaint yourself with in preparation for the interview.”

“Already covered,” I answer, because it’s true. I may be nervous, but I’m not the kind to stupidly wait around for commands.

“Great,” Tetra retorts smartly. “That gives you more time to make whichever amends need to be made with your publicist.”

I feel something twist in my gut. Fighting the urge to hurl, I say, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

I did something stupid, yes, but I’m not going to take it back. Not for all the thrones in the world. I may not get Link, but no way am I going to lose that kiss. I’ll keep it to myself and continue to wonder at what might have been.

“Anyway,” Tetra says, “I don’t see why you’re so upset. Link doesn’t seem any different than usual.”

That’s because, unlike me, his heart hasn’t been shred to bits, since he doesn’t care for me. Really, I have no idea why Tetra has to twist the knife in the wound.

“Tetra,” I say, “I know I’m going to sound like a masochist, but could you please send Kotake up?”

“Kotake?” Tetra looks at me sharply, like I’ve grown a second head. “Why would you want to talk to her?”

I sigh, and, piteously enough, I say, “I need some sense knocked into me.”

Tetra apparently can’t hold in her amusement. “And Kotake Rova has become the dispenser of common sense since when…?”

“I don’t know. I figure even if she spouts random nonsense, it’ll make me feel better knowing there are people who are more delusional than me.”

Tetra rolls her eyes. “You’ve got that right. Well, I can call her, but don’t forget you asked for it.” She examines me. “Besides, you seem in dire need of a reality check.”

“Thanks,” I reply as dryly as possible.

She leaves the room and her footsteps fade from hearing range. I check my watch. Five hours to go before my interview on national television. Joy. I chose to wear the clothes from Wattemples for the occasion. Just because I might become a queen doesn’t mean I have to dress twice my age.

Fifteen minutes of pointless reflections later, Kotake enters my room without knocking.

“Tetra said you needed a wake-up call,” she grunts. “I thought you’d gotten over yourself.”

“So did I,” I say, sitting up, oddly relieved to see her, “but that was before I―”

“Slept with your publicist?”

“What?” I blink at her in shock. “No!”

“What do you mean, no?” Kotake looks frustrated. “What are you waiting for?”

I stand indignantly. I try not to tower over her too much. “What do you mean, ‘What am I waiting for’? I can’t sleep with my publicist!”

“Why not?”

I stare at Kotake incredulously. Has she lost a few bolts since I last saw her? I mean, ‘why not’? Why not?? What kind of question is that? What kind of stupid, idiotic, foolish… brilliant question is that?

Why not, after all?

Whoa. No. No, no, no. She is taking me over to the dark side. I can’t sleep with Link ―I mean, my publicist― because he’s a business acquaintance. He’s in charge of my image. If things don’t work out, I’m going to have to find a new publicist or something because I can’t manage it on my own.

Sleeping with Link is too risky. Unfortunately.

“Kotake,” I say, as patiently as possible, “I can’t sleep with him because we are business relations.”

There. That should settle it.

“Oh, please,” she says, rolling her bulgy ice blue eyes, “Not for much longer.”

“What?” What does she mean?

Did Link say he wanted to leave? Did I mess up even more than I originally thought?

“Didn’t you know?” Kotake seems thrilled that she can actually teach me something. “Once someone gets crowned, his job is done.”

What?

I feel the idea sink in. Link… leave? The idea is as foreign to me as shopping in Marcastle and becoming a royal once was.

Oh gods! Link can’t leave!

I sink down on my mattress again, unable to accept that if anyone gets crowned, no matter if it’s Ganondorf of I, I will never see Link again. He’ll move on to publicize a sexy pop star who will actually impress him and know about milkwine and they’ll get married and have five beautiful children―

“Judging from your expression,” Kotake says flatly, even though I’m about to hyperventilate and start crying, “you don’t think of him as strictly business.”

“I kissed him yesterday,” I breathe.

“It’s about time. Did you like it?”

I shamefully admit, “Yes.”

“And did the blind moblin like it?”

“How would I know?” I stand, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. “How would I know?? I acted on the moment. It didn’t make sense. We haven’t spoken since! He probably hates me! And now you tell me he’s gonna leave?”

My voice now borders on the hysterical. Link can’t leave! I love him!

“All the more reason to get it on with him,” Kotake says, to my previous words.

I stare at Kotake, trying to not cry. “What’s the point?”

Kotake rolls her eyes. A lot of people seem to be doing that to me lately. She says, exasperatedly, “All right. Let’s have it your way. Just focus on the task at hand. Keep your relations businesslike. Lose him for good.” She holds up her feather duster. “Work yourself away and bring other people some temporary happiness. Clean up their lives. Forget yourself. Taint your honesty with power. And when you get to my age, look back on this and wonder.”

Something in her icy eyes is wavering. I feel my heart pull.

“Wonder if it was worth it.” Her tone is still as dry, hoarse and nasty as always. “Wonder if being alone was the better choice.”

She grumbles something along the lines of ‘foolish girl’ and heads towards my door. Right before she disappears into the hallway, she says, “I was lucky to have a sister. Who will you grow old with?”

She slams my door behind her.

Gods. To think she was supposed to cheer me up.

I fall back on my bed and stare at my ceiling. I’d never noticed how high it was before.

Should I be productive, or mope around for the next four hours and… forty-five minutes?

I sit up again, because, as tempting as moping is, Kotake’s right. I can’t just let things be. Link and I will have to talk again, at some point or other. I mean, our job isn’t over. Mine hasn’t even started yet. I still need his help. And I’m going to make every minute of his remaining time count.

And if he wants to say he doesn’t feel the same about me, as he probably will, I will take it with regal understanding and I will keep a purely businesslike attitude around him. I will blame stress for the kiss, and he’s going to have to accept that sometimes, a girl has to let loose some of the steam.

And we will never talk of that kiss again, and I will return to shamelessly pining after him, knowing only too well how doomed our non-relationship is.

… Gods. Everything sucks.

There’s a knock at my door.

“Zelda?”

Oh gods. It’s him!

Is there, like, some secret passageway around here? Maybe I should lock myself in my bathroom and get the shower running?

Even as I stand to dart towards my bathroom, the door opens and Link steps in, not looking as though I non-verbally admitted my major crush on him just yesterday.

I freeze mid-leap, and, a bit more annoyed than I feel, I say, “Gods, heard of knocking much?”

He looks at me, and his dark blonde eyebrow rises. “I did knock.” Oh. Right. “What? Were you trying to evade me?”

I don’t know. What do you think? “No. I just wanted to check…” Check what? Check what, Zelda?? “… If I still had enough… toilet paper.”

Oh, my gods. Lame alert.

“Huh.” Link doesn’t seem interested in pursuing this stupid conversation. Instead, he changes the subject and says, “I came by to check if everything was alright. Tetra told me you were already done studying ―congratulations, by the way― and I saw Kotake leaving your room a minute ago… She didn’t make any more lewd comments, did she? I tried to tell her to stop that, but she wouldn’t hear any of it.” He pauses. “Also, Kafei invited you to supper this evening ―to discuss both your futures, he said. But I told him you’d be too busy giving an interview on national television.”

I can’t help but smile a little at this. “Too bad. I’m sure supper with Kafei would have made for an interesting conversation.”

Link snorts a bit, as though he finds the idea risible. “Right. Instead, I suggested he interest himself in your friend Anju, because she told me she wouldn’t mind replacing you for this time.”

I hold down my grin and say, as regally as possible, “That’s generous of her. I’ll have to thank her.”

Link doesn’t seem overly concerned with that. He looks a bit fidgety, actually. How strange.

“Our most pressing concern is how you’re going to act in tonight’s interview,” he says.

And, like that, I’m swept off on a whirlwind of pre-interview preparations, and then I’m shoved into a car, dressed like I’m a talk-show host, and half an hour later I’m sitting across from Marjorie Majora, journalist extraordinaire, as a technician cries out, “In five, four, three…”

And a red light blinks. We’re on.

Marjorie Majora, at least, is a very decent woman. She likes to wear surprising colours, and her heavily painted eyes are piercing, and her nails are really long, but thankfully she doesn’t sharpen her teeth to bite people.

Not that I expected her to.

It’s hard to concentrate on an interview when butterflies are dancing the Goron dance in your stomach and the love of your life is standing off to the side, in the darkness behind the projectors, and you can’t see him or ask him why he hasn’t given you a single bleeding clue about how he feels for you.

Maybe he already assumed that it was all stress?

Gah. That sucks more than I thought it would.

“And how do you think,” Majora asks me, her curt voice dragging me back to the moment ―we’ve been speaking together on air for who-knows-how-long now, “your political opponent, RP leader Ganondorf Dragmire, is taking your slow but steady rise in the public opinion?”

I can’t help a tiny but lenient smile. “Well, I suppose like any politician he’d find this alarming. I won’t pretend to know what’s going on in his mind, however.”

“Neither will we,” Majora says, and I try not to raise my brows at her subtle political comment. She immediately continues with, “Seventeen days ago you pronounced a speech during a live conference in front of Marcastle palace. You claimed not to have much press experience, to be an uncomfortable orator, and then added that you wanted to become what the people wanted without assuming their desires.”

I nod, even though the memory of that day still makes me slightly nauseous.

“You partially concluded your conference with the claim that a queen was another kind of waitress, and that you intended to become the best queen Hyrule ever had. What triggered the change from waitress to queen, I wonder?”

I have trouble thinking of an answer, but then I say, “I was firmly encouraged by talented professionals who have taught me the complex workings of our government. I took lessons. I practiced my national catering,” I say, and at this both Majora and I chuckle. “All in all, I took the time that was needed and acquired the necessary knowledge to rule this country with courage and wisdom.”

“So,” Marjorie Majora incites, “you still believe you have what it takes?”

I smile. “Certainly.”

Marjorie smiles back. “We’ll continue the interview after the commercial break, if you don’t mind.”

I smile again. “Of course.”

It takes five seconds before a man cries, “Three minutes thirty! Make-up!”

A woman rushes forward to fix Marjorie’s make-up. Eventually, we’re both left under the spotlight again. Majora leans forward.

“You’re doing a wonderful job. After the break I’ll be introducing these.”

She takes out a manila envelope from under the desk and opens it. She spreads on the desk a series of photographs. Of me. With the Godly Trio.

It’s the first time I see them. I can’t help a surprised gasp.

I’m gorgeous. Look at that butt of mine.

“I’m impressed by how much the pictures and the real you are alike. Sometimes they fix the pictures up. But you really are this pretty.”

I can’t help but be flattered.

“Between you and me,” Majora says conspiratorially, “and the ten technicians, have you got anyone in mind as a boyfriend?”

Whoa. Direct, isn’t she?

“Um,” I say, “no. Not really.”

“You can have me!” A technician jokes. I turn my head to laugh along with everyone else, when I notice Link standing to the side. He’s not laughing at all, looking grim and like he isn’t all there. His eyes are staring into space under furrowed brows.

Really, what’s gotten into him?

“Starting again in fifteen seconds,” another man calls, and everyone hurries back to his or her position.

Marjorie says, “I’ll be talking about your future publicity stunts.”

I nod, remembering my mental cue cards for the subject. I’ve gotten pretty good at this whole memory thing. Link’s tips totally helped me.

The red light blinks on again. Marjorie Majora begins talking in a professionally trained tone.

“We’re live in the studio right now with the candidate for the throne, Zelda Harkinian, whom a lot of people have affectionately dubbed ‘Princess Zelda’. Before the break we discussed her childhood, her qualifications, her stance regarding national debate subjects, her opponent’s scandals, and her current relation to that same opponent, Ganondorf Dragmire. Tell me, Miss Harkinian,” she leans forward just a little, to mark interest, “now that you’re less than four days away from the moment of truth, how are you handling stress?”

I smile just a bit. “Oh, I won’t lie. I’m nervous. But I also trust the ministers to do what is best for Hyrule and to choose the ruler that will lead this nation into an era of peace and prosperity. I’ve met them all personally and they are very kind and interesting people. I was actually reassured to see that the cabinet was made of such bright and knowledgeable ministers.”

Majora nods slowly, and, in the same tone, asks, “Considering how little time is left, what are your intentions to encourage popular vote in your favour?”

“Well,” I say, “I can’t say I have much time left, so all I can say is I’ll be at the Indigo-Go’s concert tomorrow to relax a little and mingle with everyone. I’m looking forward to it.”

“We’ve also received the final result of one of your photo shoots with the Godly Trio,” Marjorie Majora says, picking up the photographs. “You can see a few on the screen right now. How was posing with those goddesses like, anyway?”

I grin. “Oh, they were very nice. We discussed politics. They’re very smart, not at all like the stereotypical fashion model. They made me laugh quite a lot, I must admit.”

“They sent us a note claiming that they found you very pleasant as well and have even declared that they would love another shoot with you, regardless of your political outcome.”

This surprises me. I say, in all honesty, “I didn’t know that. It’s very kind and flattering of them.”

“And,” the journalist says, “I’ll just take a short moment to say that you look positively gorgeous on those pictures.”

I laugh lightly. “Thank you.”

“Well,” she says, “our interview time is drawing to a close. In conclusion, is there anything you’d like to say?”

I nod as graciously as possible. “Certainly.” I take a breath and say, to Majora and the camera, “I have every intention of making the people as happy as I possibly can. This country means a lot to me and I wouldn’t want harm to it in any possible way. My political opponent has suffered quite a few incriminating accusations in his social circle, and I have since lost much of the trust I had in his complete honesty.” I don’t mention that I never trusted him in the first place.

“Yes,” I continue, “I was a waitress in Lakeside and yes, there were times where I had to wear the same clothes over and over again because the Laundromat just wouldn’t open. I used to save up money to buy a pair of shoes I liked and I had to balance out two jobs to repay my tuition.

“They weren’t fun things to worry about, but I think they made me stronger. I understand what sort of trouble every day people have to deal with, because I was not born into money. Unlike Ganondorf Dragmire,” I dare add.

“Even now,” I say, “I struggle sometimes to get everything done. I have concerns and they’re not all related to the national budget. Sometimes I just don’t know what to wear to a conference or an interview.”

Majora laughs at this, and I can’t help a sheepish smile either.

I say, “Every day life isn’t easy, and most people will agree to this. But I think it’s even worse when your political leader won’t think in the favour of the people. I think I understand that better than Mr. Dragmire, because I was and still feel like I am part of the masses. That’s why I swear to worry about my people before anything else, because, like it or not, I am…” I take a breath and smile at the camera, “part of them.”

There’s a short silence in the studio, then Marjorie Majora says, “Thank you so much for your honesty, Mrs. Harkinian. Or shall I call you Princess Zelda?”

I laugh. “You can call me Zelda, if you want. Either way, it’s my name. And the illegitimate title makes me a little uncomfortable.”

“I think,” Majora says benevolently, “that you’ve proven yourself to deserve that title more than anyone else.”

That’s so kind of her!

“Thank you,” I say, trying not to look too grateful.

“Well,” she says, “this concludes tonight’s interview. Stay tuned. Right after the break is a special documentary. Explore the ancient temples of Hyrule with Professor Shikashi, an expert archaeologist from Termina. Thank you once again for joining us tonight, and have a good evening.”

It takes thirty seconds for the credits to finish running, and finally, the red light blinks off.

I feel a huge weight lifting off my shoulders and I heave a sigh of relief. Marjorie Majora glances at me amusedly.

“You’re not one for public speeches, are you?”

I shake my head, feeling a bit foolish.

“You handled it like a professional,” she assures me, and once again I’m grateful for her kindness. “I can’t promise you this will have a big impact, but I certainly hope so for you.” She smirks a little. “It can only help you, at least. Ganondorf Dragmire’s campaign has been well done but not spectacularly so. You, on the other hand, feel like a breath of fresh air. I wouldn’t be surprised if you made the job hard for Dragmire.”

We both stand down from the stools where we had been sitting. I say, “I think he hates me for precisely that reason.”

Marjorie Majora’s brow goes up. “I suppose.” Her eyes slide towards Link, and she smiles a bit in appreciation. I don’t blame her but I do feel a little bit territorial.

Not, I’m beginning to realise, that I have any right to be.

“And you’re the publicist,” Majora says, extending her claw-like fingers politely. “We didn’t have much time to get better acquainted, I’m afraid.”

Link, at least, lost a bit of his distant or foul mood, and he smiles charmingly. “We’re both very busy.”

“Are you too busy to join me for dinner? There is a very big project coming up for our station and they wanted me to find someone competent to advertise the idea.”

Gods. I feel like rolling my eyes. So this is how Link gets his jobs: he just stands there and looks gorgeous, and people fawn over him, begging for his help. It’s a wonder he isn’t rich yet.

I expect Link to say yes, because his current job, also known as me, will be done in four or five days, and he’s probably looking for some other way to buy his bread and butter.

Why can’t I be his bread and butter??

Instead of sticking around to see Link falling for the obvious flirting of Majora, I begin to walk towards the studio doors. Maybe if I’m lucky I won’t lose my way in the building and I’ll actually find the exit. Also, maybe I won’t have to find a trashcan and hurl inside it.

Not five seconds later, though, Link hurries after me, calling my name. I turn ―because, um, who wouldn’t? ― and I see him jogging to catch up with my long strides.

Well, he sure sealed the deal with Marjorie Majora pretty fast.

“In a hurry to get home?” He asks. I snort a bit.

“I guess. So you got yourself a new project?” I do my best to keep the bitterness out of my voice and stay as neutral as possible.

He looks at me sternly and says, “I never do exterior business while I’m still working for someone else. It’s against my principles.”

“But she offered you a big job,” I say.

Link snorts, and shrugs. And completely shocks me by saying “Frankly, I don’t think I want to stay in the publicity world after your coronation.”

Oh…

Whoa. Wait. Wait just a minute.

… WHAT?