“ ‘Royal Success: First Impressions. A good surprise awaited us yesterday at the Marcastle Hospital for the Mentally Challenged. On the first official visit of her career, possible future queen of Hyrule, lovingly dubbed ‘Princess’ Zelda Harkinian, daughter of Daphne Nohansen, delivered an impressive speech, discussed common illnesses with Dr. Jabun Jabu and helped a couple of patients. Looking radiant in pale colours, she showed brilliant sang-froid when faced with unpredictable patients. There also is talk that she may foster a help program for otherwise helpless cases. It seems that this young lady might be what Hyrule needed, in spite of previous reservations. We’ll have to see what the future holds for us.’ ”

Tetra drones all this, throwing the newspaper onto the pile of other clippings. Not one of them brought me down. On the contrary, it’s like my first public outing was a total success. They all even took to calling me ‘Princess’ Zelda, even though I’m not a princess!

Tetra looks tired. She’s been working late again. I know that she’s working for Rauru, her grandfather, on top of helping me out. But when she smiles at me, she looks satisfied. “You did a good job, for a person who wasn’t supposed to know anything about public speeches.”

I grin back.

Aryll comes into my room, with her usual elfish smile. To both of us, she says, “Phone’s been ringing off the hook. Every journalist in the world wants to have an exclusive interview with ‘Princess Zelda’. They’re ready to pay you big blinks for it.”

I smile at her and stretch out on my couch, wearing my old overalls. “Tell them to take a rain check. It’s my day off.” It isn’t, really, but since Link is downtown, I’ve got free time.

Aryll smirks. “Will do.”

Tetra sits up suddenly. “No, you will not tell them to take a rain check. You will not tell them anything at all. Where’s Link? Oh, fine, I’ll handle this.”

Tetra leaves. I feel kind of bad that she has to work her butt off when I’m lolling around doing nothing. Then again, I did work hard and suffer a lot of stress… Okay, yeah. I’m so lazy.

Aryll plops down in my armchair and props her feet on my coffee table. Looking at all the newspapers spread out on the surface, she says, “So. I heard you got some loon off my brother?”

I observe Aryll critically. I haven’t forgotten that the only reason my impression on the press was so good is because she had the presence of mind to prepare a speech for me. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d be judged like the dumbest person in Hyrule, and not like a competent ‘princess’. I don’t understand how she knows how to write such inspirational speeches. To be frank, I’m still a bit in shock.

“I did,” I confirm. “But more importantly, I have to say thank you.”

Aryll doesn’t need to be reminded. She smiles, shrugs a bit, and says, “Don’t worry about it. Foresight is a family thing. We just know what to expect.” Lightly, she asks, “You’re not mad that Link let you down, I hope?”

Her question surprises me a bit. I hadn’t seen it that way at all in the first place. “No. It’s not his fault, after all.”

“I know, but politicians have been known to blame him for stuff like that before.”

I frown and say, a bit sheepishly, “I’ll admit I don’t know much about your brother, Aryll.”

She laughs and explains, “With Link, what you see is what you get.”

Wow. That would make Link quite the catch.

We fall silent. Technically, I should be working on what they taught me in the past week. Link is busy at his office, filling in reports and finishing other projects. Impa Shades still hasn’t shown up. I was told she hardly ever has any free time. I kind of imagine her as another Tetra. All I can hope is that she’s not as mean as they say she is.

I suddenly frown. “Hey, where’s Rauru?”

Aryll looks up from a newspaper article and says, “He’s in the Hall of Ministers. It’s downstairs, in the east wing. They’re having a big meeting or something.”

“And I’m not invited?” I’m a bit upset.

Aryll laughs. “Don’t be mad. It’s just that you’re not legally in position yet. Ganondorf Dragmire is presiding for now.”

I sit up. “Ganondorf Dragmire is in this palace? As we speak?”

All I get as an answer is a brief nod. “Yeah.”

Maybe it’s wrong of me, but I get this feeling like I have to see this Ganondorf guy in action. I have to know if what they say ―about him not being a good man― is really true. Because he’s the one who can cause me trouble. Because if he’s better than me, bye-bye queenie.

“Don’t mind me, Aryll. I’m going for a walk.”

She smiles. “Don’t get lost, now.”

I know what she means. I always get lost in this huge palace. I haven’t had much time since I came to explore it properly. Well, now’s my chance. I don’t have anything scheduled for today, and there’s practically no one to bother me.

That’s how I end up inside Gold Ballroom two hours later.

Needless to say I didn’t find the ministers’ hall. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough.

There’s just something about massive, empty rooms that compels me. It’s like they’re immense, echoing temples, where a visitor is also an intruder.

The Gold Ballroom is a hall of majestic proportions. It’s like the inside of a large, gold cathedral. In alcoves, there are different paintings of the world creation, with interpretations of the Golden Goddesses, and at the very end of the generally rectangular room, there’s a large square patch of floor that’s one step higher than the rest, above which is a massive painting of the Holy Triforce. All the walls are leafed with gold, yellow and white. The floor is a mosaic of rare yellow marble and white marble, representing a phoenix and Triforce, surrounded with various other symbols of mythology.

Behind the platform with the Triforce painting, there are high, thin, floor-to-ceiling windows, with thick curtains to block out the bright sunlight. So, rather than have the room be bathed in white and gold light, it’s plunged into a semi-darkness that preserves the quality of every painting there. I don’t mind the shadows. They make the room seem more austere and hidden, like a secret.

So, I consider, this is where my coronation ball might happen. Just thinking about it makes me feel nauseous. As Link said, it’d be grandiose. But I’m afraid to mess up before that.

That’s the thing. I’ve come to realise I actually want to be queen. I want to prove that I can do this. I have no other prospect that’s quite as wonderful as this half-fairy tale I’m living.

Since, of course, if this were a complete fairytale, an evil enemy would curse me and I’d have to be saved by a knight in shining armour.

So cliché, I think to myself with a small smile.

I step forward, and each one of my steps on the marble floor makes an echo that reverberates all around me. I love this silence. It’s such a nice change from the hectic atmosphere of my previous week. It’s like my whole world is cut off, and I’m in a sanctuary where time has stopped.

I walk to the platform, and look around. Really, this room is beautiful. Tetra didn’t lie when she told me so on the first day.

I’d have stayed here all day.

The massive doors from where I entered creak. I turn, a bit startled, and I see him.

Ganondorf Dragmire. Don’t ask me how I know. It’s a feeling.

He’s a broad-shouldered, towering giant, with dark olive skin, a strong nose, and bright red hair. His hands are immense, the kind you’d imagine chopping down trees rather than shuffling papers. He looks like a warrior, even with his black business suit.

Somehow, the sight of him sends a terrified tremor through me.

So, this is the man I voted for? He certainly has the presence of a powerful leader. I can’t believe that a man so powerful didn’t become a dictator and take over the position of king long ago. Though…

Link did tell me Ganondorf had that thought that he deserved to be Hyrule’s ruler…

That means he probably doesn’t want me in the picture.

If he feels any animosity towards me, Ganondorf Dragmire doesn’t say anything. I’m sure he saw me. There’s no way he didn’t. I’m in plain sight.

In the still air of this mausoleum, he steps forward, coming my way. I can’t withstand the solitary sound of his shoes echoing, so I fill it up by saying, “You’re Ganondorf Dragmire, I suppose?”

He looks up, straight at me, and there’s a flash of gold, like he pierced me with a thousand shards of metal. He smirks. His teeth are pearly white. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a politician.

“Princess Zelda,” he says, insisting on the title the journalists and press correspondents have dubbed me with since my debut, “how wonderful to finally meet you.”

I smile thinly. “I’ve heard of you.” I don’t answer with my first instinct, which had been to say that I’m not as enthusiastic as he suggested he was.

Ganondorf doesn’t slow his calm advance towards me. He’s looking around at the shadowed room. “I assume you must have. I was on the front page of every newspaper before you came along.”

He’s being factual. I can’t answer him. Still, I hear his biting tone.

Finally, he stops in front of me. He’s really tall. Nearly a head taller than Link. I try to look as confident as what he merely exudes. His voice is deep, rumbling like thunder. I’ve never met a man that felt so threatening before.

He gives me a once-over, not disguising his contempt. “I can see the publicity firm has put in a lot of work for you to become nearly as appreciated as me.”

I don’t say anything, but my dislike for him is growing steadily.

“They say you were a waitress,” Ganondorf says, sort of conversationally. “Do enlighten me. Is this true?”

I’m trying to keep myself from flaring into visible anger. “My father abandoned my mother when she was pregnant with me. I’ve had no other choice.”

Ganondorf seems to find this amusing. “And they take you out of the dust to put you on the shelf because Nohansen was your father.” With mild interest, he comments, “The old man deserved to die, don’t you think? He’d done his time.”

I don’t know if he expected me to agree with him. Frankly, I would have if we had been two weeks earlier. But we were not. Ganondorf Dragmire was insulting my father, the one who ensured I actually had a second chance at life ―and what a life! The very type of life my mother always wished I could have.

“Nohansen was a good man,” I say to him, not hiding the acidity I feel. “Just because your political ideal doesn’t agree with his―”

“My political ideals are what allowed you to be where you are, girl!” Ganondorf suddenly snaps, and the harshness in his voice makes me step backward. He comes to stand in front of me, and says, in a threatening voice, “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be dirt! The idea of a return to monarchy would never have occurred to this rotten country without my word!”

Which, if you think about it, isn’t exactly what you want to hear from the steward of your nation.

I’m also shocked at how short his fuse is. They should have a neon sign saying ‘Handle With Care’ above his head. Or, even ‘Don’t Handle At All’.

“I am the one who put you here,” he says, low. “And I’m telling you right now that if you get in my way, I won’t be playing fair.”

Okay. Obvious threat. The bloody son of... He clearly sees that I lose my smile for good. The animosity between us is now obvious.

I say, with asperity, “Do you ever?”

I think maybe Ganondorf might have tried to hurt me at that moment, but he never got to even lay a finger on me, because a voice suddenly interrupts us.

“Zelda Harkinian,” the voice calls, and both Ganondorf and I turn to look at the doors.

On the threshold, I see a tall, silver-haired, athletic-looking woman. Her shoulders are square, her eyes are sharp, and if she’s going to keep Ganondorf from strangling me, I intend to revere her for the rest of my life.

Ganondorf Dragmire snorts a bit. “Impa Shades. What ill wind brings you here?”

Impa doesn’t answer him. She’s walking towards us with a clip pace.

“Zelda,” she says again, as she reaches my side, “I’m here to review next week’s schedule with you. Link Forester said you were aware of this.”

I have no clue what she’s talking about, but I’m not about to argue. I smile at her as graciously as possible, and say, “Of course.”

Ganondorf sounds scornful when both Impa and I walk away. I hear him say, “We’ll see if you have what it takes to handle power, wisecrack.”

I feel an urge to turn around and tell him off, but Impa places a hand on my shoulder and keeps me firmly facing the door. I don’t even have to meet her face to know what that means.

The moment we step out of the ballroom, inside which Ganondorf is still lurking, Impa Shades, as severe looking as I expected her to be, says, “I thought you knew it’s best not to be left alone with Ganondorf Dragmire, Zelda.”

I’m still reeling from the shock of how openly Dragmire showed his hatred for me. I say, “Can we have him removed now that he’s threatened me like that?”

“There would be no evidence of your accusations. Besides, you don’t have that power yet.”

I gape at her. “What? But I didn’t hallucinate that! And… And you were there, besides!”

Impa Shades doesn’t even look affected by my near hysteria. She’s as stone-faced as before. I wonder if she ever smiled in her life. She says, “It doesn’t work that way. Let it be a lesson for you: Ganondorf Dragmire is not a friend. He is an acquaintance on whom you may not rely as well as a rival. I would think Forester would have warned you about this, at least, but I see no one ever bothers with competence anymore.”

“Hey,” I exclaim, hoping I don’t sound too eager to defend my godly publicist. “Link did warn me about him!”

Impa and I are walking down the peach hallway, like I did with Link on the day of my arrival. But it’s not nearly as convivial as it was then. Impa looks at me out of the corner of her eye and comments flatly, “Then it is you who has a problem if you didn’t listen to him.”

What? Hey!

“I was there first.” I say, a bit petulantly, I’ll admit. “Ganondorf ambushed me!”

Impa considers me for a moment, and finally concludes, “In that case, I’ll have to teach you common sense before I teach you about the history of your country.”

“Common sense?” I cry out. “You say I need common sense? What about that crazy screwball in there?” I’m making a wide, vague motion with my arm at the direction where we came from. “He would have killed me!”

Impa scoffs. “So it would have served you right for antagonizing him.”

I swear my jaw dropped. The unfairness of it all just hit me. It’s like being accused and giving all the evidence that you’re innocent then being told that it’s insufficient.

I don’t like this Impa person. Sure, she helped me out with Dragmire, but I don’t think shooting down the future queen of Hyrule is the best way to be in her future favours.

“Well,” I mumble between my teeth, after a long moment of angry silence, “it’s nice to meet you too. I’m Zelda Harkinian.” I outstretch my hand.

Impa looks at it, as though I just offered her to lick my shoe, but then takes it firmly, and says, curtly, “Impa Shades. Your history teacher.”

“I thought you were going to teach me common sense.” I say, and I think her eyes flicker with the barest tinge of amusement. “Though I think martial arts may be a better option.” I look at her athletic build. “Are you a black belt in something?”

“Yes,” Impa says, back to being curt, and when I show my interest, she says, “In knowing how to avoid battles.”

With that, she abandons me in front of my room doorway, and goes back down the hallway.

Wow. Now she’s a bitch.

Aryll looks up when I re-enter my bedroom. She hasn’t really moved since I last saw her. I don’t know why she loves hanging out in my room so much. Maybe it’s just cooler. She’s reading a short story in the Hyrule Times, and until I show up, it seems she was doing just fine.

When she sees my face, though, her tiny smile dies and is replaced with a frown. “Wow. Did a fire keese get you or something?”

“I wish,” I mumble. “Instead, I met Impa Shades.”

Aryll cringes. “Oh. I should have warned you. She was supposed to come in and check up on you today.”

“And check up she did,” I grouse. “I also met Ganondorf Dragmire.”

“Double ‘oh’.”

I let myself collapse on my couch and say, “This sucks.”

“Did he do anything?”

Finally hopeful that I’ll find a sympathetic soul in this massive palace, I say, with indignation, “He ambushed me in the Gold Ballroom and said that he wouldn’t let me become queen. He totally insulted me and then, when I gave him a minuscule piece of my mind, he almost jumped me. I’m sure he’d have tried to kill me.”

“But Impa interrupted that or you wouldn’t be alive,” Aryll says, looking more serious than I ever saw her.

My arms, which had been motioning widely, fall at my sides, and I say, morosely, “Well, yeah.”

Losing her grave expression, Aryll says, with the proper amount of sympathy, “That must have sucked.”

“It totally did,” I mumble, looking off into the distance. “She said it was my fault that Ganondorf tried to kill me. I mean, what’s up with that?”

Aryll gives a little helpless shrug. “Impa’s unreadable sometimes.”

I look at Aryll. “Is there some info about Impa that I should know to keep her from eating my brains live out of my skull?”

Link’s sister laughs. “Not really. She’s not that bad once you get to know her, I’m told.” I snort, because that’s something I can’t imagine to be true. Her eyes wander to my unused laptop. It’s usually on, because I only take it to read memos that Link and Tetra send me. “By the way, your computer beeped while you were away. I think you have mail.”

“Mail?” I sit up and flip the screen to its upright position. “That’s odd. I thought Link would be too busy to send me― Hey, who the heck is ‘stallion lover twenty-four-seven’?”

“I don’t know,” Aryll answers me, giggling a bit at the name. “Probably a girl. I can’t imagine a man saying he likes stallions.”

I make a face at the teen. “Get your mind out of the gutter, girl. What would your brother say if he heard you suggest stuff like that?”

“That he doesn’t like stallions, thank you very much.”

“Well,” I say, rolling my eyes, and opening the mail, “that’s a relief.”

We both fall into silence as I begin reading the electronic mail. Aryll picks up a gossip magazine, titled ironically enough ‘Mask of Truth’ and begins perusing its hefty set of rumours.

‘To: Hyrule Government ― zelda.harkinian

‘From: NetBind ― stallion.lover.24.7

‘Subject: OH MY DIN, GIRL!

‘HEY, ZELLIE! It’s Malon! You remember, don’t you? That wickedly cool friend of yours down south? I hope it hasn’t been so long that you don’t remember me! Or Ruto. I’m typing from her computer, since, unless you forgot how dirt poor we all were, I’m too broke to buy my own. Do you think with your queenly salary, you could buy me a computer?

‘I’m just kidding, sweetie! In case you were wondering, I asked Tetra Piraetes (that woman is so cool!) for your private email when she called me in the beginning of the week. She said she’d give it to me in exchange for your size of clothing. Is she buying you stuff? I can’t believe you’re shopping in Marcastle without Ruto and me. That is so unfair.

‘Over here, everything’s just fine, except that I woke up this morning, and WHOSE FACE DID I SEE ON THE FRONT PAGE OF THE NEWSPAPER ON MY DOORSTEP THIS MORNING? That’s right. YOURS. And I just want to say, that picture of you talking to that nutty middle-aged fairy man totally doesn’t do you justice. You’re not THAT pale in real life.

‘Kudos on the cream suit, though. Way sexy.

‘Anyway, I asked Anju (your housemate, remember?) if she knew who that hot blond guy was that the fairy dude was holding onto (not that I blame him, if you get my drift. That blonde man is sex rolled into the body for sin). And she said he’s Link Forester! The guy who fetched you at your place!

‘Why was I left out of the hysteria, is what I want to know.

‘So. Have you moved in on him yet? I don’t suppose so. You’re too shy. But I tell you, in that picture, he’s looking at you with adoration. And no, I’m not having “another one of those moments” so don’t start. I can totally see it in the picture: he’s WAY glad that you’re helping him to pry Nutty Mc Nut off of his shirt. Even Ruto agrees with me. And if Ruto says something… Well, you know how it goes.

‘Oh my Din, I miss you, Zellie! It’s no fun dissing truckers at the café without you. I can’t even shop for underwear anymore, because I need your help to pick out the colours! I tell you, life in Lakeside sucked before you left, but now it sucks really badly. The Laundromat still hasn’t been fixed either.

‘Anyway. Ruto and I are rooting for you. I tell you, people here in Lakeside totally adore you. They’re selling mugs with your face on it everywhere. MUGS, ZELLIE! YOUR FACE IS ON A MUG! I bought one, and it’s on my shelf, beside Mr. Hoppers, the Plush Bunny of Doom. Sometimes I look at that mug and pretend that you’re telling me I’m stupid. It makes me feel better to say shut up to your face rather than to an empty space.

‘I really hope you’re holding out over there in Marcastle. I hope you’re having a great time living it up with all the handsome princes charming of the world. Be sure to save one for me, though. :)

‘I love ya, girlfriend,

‘Malon (and Ruto) XOXOX’

I read that message over and over again. I feel really sad now, but I can’t help smiling at Malon’s antics. I have the greatest best friends in the world.

“What’re you smiling at?” Aryll asks, looking up from an article entitled ‘How to make your nails stand out’.

I force my smile to hide a bit of the hollow feeling that makes me want to cry. “A message from my best friend, Malon Ranch, in Lakeside.”

Aryll looks understanding. “Oh, true. She’s at the other end of the country. That’s a real bummer.”

“It is,” I say, re-reading the paragraph about mugs. “At least I know she hasn’t forgotten me. She seems to think I forgot her, though.”

“Mail back.”

I smile thinly. “Yeah, I will for sure. But…”

Aryll’s blonde eyebrow hitches high on her forehead. “But?”

“I just wish I could do more than just write. My friends are still living in the misery I abandoned. They’re such great people. All of them. It sucks being told you’re possibly the future queen and having no power to change things like that.”

Aryll looks at me in sympathy. “You just have to be patient. Once you’re queen for good, you’ll do as you want.”

I laugh a bit at that, and when she seems surprised, I say, “Sure. Only if Ganondorf Dragmire doesn’t get me KO, I will.”

“If you ask me,” Aryll says, in a bout of wisdom that impresses me, “he wouldn’t be worried if he didn’t feel that you actually do have the potential to be a good queen.”

“Do I, now?” I’m listening to her and typing back to Malon at the same time.

“You do.” Then, she holds up a newspaper clipping and says, “Because if you didn’t, they wouldn’t all be calling you ‘Princess Zelda’. They’d just call you Harkinian like they call him Dragmire.” She smirks. “The people are loving you. My brother knows his thing. You ought to listen to him: he’ll help you win against Ganon Dreadfire.”

“Dragmire.”

“It doesn’t matter what his name is, since you’re going to eclipse him. In a year, nobody will remember him anyway. They’ll just know you.”

Aryll smiles confidently. I can’t help but hope that’s she’s right.