Zelink Short Stories - Chapter 13: Chapter 13

A fun one after what I gave you last time. And this will have a part two because I'm not done. The flow would've been weird if I put it all in the same part.
I sit in front of my vanity mirror, staring at my reflection angrily with my arms crossed. Diplomatic meeting. I scoffed when Father informed me. I knew what it really meant. Kings don't bring their sons along for "diplomatic meetings" when we already have good relations between our kingdoms. They especially don't bring their unwed sons who are already older than most princes when they marry.
I wince when my maid drags the brush through my hair, yanking through a tangle with such vigor it might as well be a punishment. "Ow!" I yelp when she does it again. I cover my head with my hands in an attempt to keep my hair attached to my scalp.
"Loosen up and maybe it won't hurt." She swats my hands away and continues pulling and yanking out each tangle. I know better than to argue. She's been a maid for longer than I've been alive and she's been tending to me since birth. I wouldn't think to call her anything other than Nonna even if she isn't my actual grandmother. "Why are you so grumpy anyway?"
"I don't want a suitor. Especially not one like him." We've met before years ago at an event so insignificant I've forgotten what it was about. He was short, scrawny, and awkward. His hair had been perfectly combed to the side in a way that didn't suit him at all. I'm not sure what would fix that problem, but he needed something different. And possibly the worst part was how he followed me around like a quiet, obedient puppy. He refused to say anything other than the greetings that were expected of him. As far as I'm concerned, Father is setting me up with a pet rather than a man.
"You haven't even given the poor boy a chance." She finishes brushing my hair and I glance at the brush when she sets it on the vanity to check for yanked hairs. It's a miracle I'm not bald.
"He had a chance," I grumble. "He's weird."
"That was five years ago. Most teenagers are weird and you were no exception." I let my jaw drop. "Don't give me that look. You were a ragamuffin once too."
"I was not!"
"Then what were all those frogs you brought into the castle? Hm?" My brows furrow together in a scowl and I slump in the chair. Loving animals is entirely different than following a princess around and refusing to speak. "That's what I thought," she adds, smoothing out the sleeves of my dress. It's a rather glamorous one she seemed to pull from thin air. The blue is deep and rich with white in the middle of the skirt. The top has an embroidered sweetheart neckline that leads to the long draping sleeves. I am grateful for the lack of unnecessary layers in the skirt. I don't want to spend time with a boy while shuffling in a dress that makes me look like a souffle.
"You're going to be late if you don't go now," she says, shooing me out of the chair.
"What about my braid?" She didn't add the usual braid across the front like a headband. She left all of my hair down, not even adding clips.
"Don't blame me for your laziness to get out of bed this morning. And changing it up a bit can never hurt. I'm sure he's expecting you to look the same as you did back then and this will give him a surprise."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean you're still imagining him to be a weird boy and I'd bet he's still imagining you as a rude girl."
"I am not rude!" I say, turning in my chair to face her. She merely raises her brow, shutting me up without words. Perhaps I'd been a tad rude about his trailing me. I never did apologize for raising my voice at him, embarrassing him in front of everyone. The way his round cheeks reddened had me feeling plenty guilty and I couldn't bring myself to apologize even if I felt bad about it.
"Just do me a favor and behave yourself this time. I'd love to take care of your daughters before I die." Now my cheeks are the ones burning. The thought of being in the same room as his has me irked; I can't bring myself to think about having children with him.
"Don't be so dramatic," I mumble, pulling up my skirts to walk. "You know you're going to outlive us all."
"I'm promised to outlive you if you don't get down to the throne room before your prince does. Your father will skin you for that embarrassment." I want to argue. He's nothing close to being my prince. He's a prince I have no interest in. "Shoo!" She nudges me to the door with a strength one wouldn't expect from an old woman like her. "I don't want to see you until you're ready for bed!" An eternity away.
She slams the door shut once I'm in the hall. I let out a huff as I accept the fact that I have no choice in the matter. Father has already been lenient with my slothlike slowness in choosing a husband. It's not only for my sake but for theirs as well. I love to spend my days reading or jotting down notes and I can imagine how incredibly boring that would be for him. Except this boy had followed me around like he was lost and had nothing better to do. I wouldn't be surprised if he repeated that same behavior, even in marriage.
I gather my skirts and start in the direction of the throne room. I'd slow my steps if I didn't have consequences to be weary of. I might lose composure if I have to sit through another lecture from Father about my duty to the kingdom. The duty that involves a husband and producing heirs. I don't feel ready for marriage let alone children.
By the time I'm almost to the throne room, I've thought of all the possibilities to stall this. I could feign sickness and be sent back to bed. Or I could claim to have lady issues and enjoy the rest of the day in my study with tea. But the visiting king and his son are staying for several days. I could stall today and they'll still be here tomorrow and the day after that or until they decide to leave. Father never did tell me how long they're staying now that I think about it.
Around the corner, I hear hushed whispers like whoever the voices belong to are trying to stay secret. I inch closer without making a sound. It could just be a maid meeting with one of the guards. But then I hear the familiar voice of my suitor's father and the sound of a hand brushing over a starched suit. My curiosity is going to get me in trouble one of these days.
"All you have to do is talk to her and mind your manners." I press closer, keeping myself hidden behind the wall
"I don't want to!" the other man whispers loudly, his voice somewhat deep but incredibly smooth. Then it hits me and my cheeks burn. That's him. And he sounds like a man. The quiet scratchy tone is gone, replaced by something completely masculine that has me wanting to peek around the corner.
No. Just because he sounds his age doesn't mean he looks it. Or acts it. He could still be annoying only now it's presented with that heavenly pitch...
"Why not? You used to like her." I narrow my eyes. Maybe that would explain the following when we met before.
"I never said I stopped," he grumbles. I curse the butterflies springing to life in my belly. He still likes me? "But she hates me! I don't have a chance so why try?" I want to storm around the corner and tell him I don't hate him; I was just annoyed. But I turn for the throne room instead. I'll see him soon enough and maybe then I'll find it in me to apologize.
Guards open the throne room doors where Father is waiting for me. He's not sitting on his throne but rather standing in front of it, ready to greet our guests.
"You're late," he says, adjusting his cuff. Again, I shuffle through lies to get out of this, finding nothing. I would have to fall and hit my head if I wanted a reason to get away.
"The thoughts of entertaining a dull boy were exhausting," I say without hiding my annoyance.
"You will behave yourself. He is a fine young man-"
"Who doesn't talk and can't find ways to occupy himself without following me around like a lost dog."
"Zelda." The warning in his tone is enough to make me shut my mouth but not without a scowl. This is his fault to begin with. His and my suitor's father. I wonder how long they've been dreaming this up, scheming behind our backs so their children will finally be married.
Or so they think.
I won't lie down and accept this. Behaving as they call it. They can't throw us in a room together and expect love to blossom. This isn't some fairytale; it's the rest of my life. And I refuse to give it up for some boy who is too good at being quiet and plain odd. He may like me and as much as I would like to apologize for before, I don't share his feelings.
Even if I wanted to, I can't picture a face to match the voice I heard just a few minutes ago. I still see the muddy blond hair swept to the side like a doll, accentuating his chubby cheeks that make him look ten rather than fifteen. He was shorter than me with skinnier limbs than mine. An ugly duckling is how I would describe him. A strange, ugly duckling.
I brace myself as the heavy doors are pulled open by knights, ready for whatever horror claiming to be a boy that walks in. I hang on to that image from five years ago, pouring every ounce of annoyance from then into my features.
My lips part in pure, unwanted shock when two men stride in. Men. One bearded and tall with a heavy crown on his head. And the other...
Hylia.
I'd be quicker to believe this was his older brother than that boy following me like a stray five years ago.
The muddy brown in his hair is gone with golden blond left in its place. It's longer as well, thrown into a ponytail with sideburns and roughly cut bangs left out to frame his face. A sharp jawline makes the previous chubbiness forgettable.
My eyes work their way down his body, my cheeks burning hotter as they do. He's tall like his father with broad shoulders. His torso tapers towards his waist and his arms are far from skinny. And that's just what they look like through his clothes.
I plaster the scowl back on my face, shoving any lewd thoughts aside. Handsome as he is, this whole thing is still ridiculous. And he may still be annoying, even with his handsome looks and that swoon worthy voice.
"Rhoam!" the guest king says, his arms wide in a friendly greeting. "It's good to finally see you again."
"And you as well, Banzetta," Father says, clapping his hand against his to shake it with a wide smile. They've been friends for years and I don't doubt our good relations are why this little...meeting is happening.
"Zelda," Banzetta says to me next, "it's good to see you as well."
Father nudges me forward, keeping his hand on my back to prevent me from retreating. "Likewise." I force the words out, giving him a shallow curtsy. I finally glance at Link, his face red as he wears a scowl identical to mine. I almost smile out of spite when he looks away, poking at the stone floor with his polished boots.
"You remember my son, don't you?" He places his hands on his shoulders, giving Link a small shake.
Unfortunately, I want to say. Father would murder his only child if I said such a thing. So I say, "Yes," and hold out my hand, my face bored and unimpressed.
Link's feet don't move. He stays still, scowling at the floor. Odd indeed. Last time, he carried out the appropriate greetings. It seems now he's crawled further into that hole of his.
"Go on," his father mutters, pushing him forward. He stumbles the few steps towards me and glares as he grabs my hand, kissing the back as swiftly as possible. I ignore the way my heart flutters and rather focus on the sweet insult forming on my tongue.
"Well," Father says, interrupting me before I could comment on Link's lack of manners to a lady, "why don't you show the prince around the castle while we get on with our meeting." They may as well stop lying. Not even the guards think this is a diplomatic meeting. This is merely an attempt to get prince Link a wife and me a husband.
"He's seen it before," I say a little too sharply. Both Banzetta and my father share a look while Link finds the drapery very interesting.
"It's been a while since then. Nothing looks quite the same after five years."
The comment gets Link's attention. Enough for him to open his mouth. "I'm inclined to agree," he says, looking down at me with an almost unnoticeable sneer.
I return the look, grinding my teeth together. And he claimed to like me. So much for that nonsense.
Father clears his throat, snapping us both out of the stalemate. I take a deep breath, finding my manners. "If you'd come with me then."
I walk past him without looking back to see if he follows. I already know how well he follows me around.
The sound of his boots scuffing along the stone behind me is enough to have me toying with the fabric of my skirt by the time the guards open the doors for me. He'd shuffled his feet before as well. Is it so hard for him to pick his feet up as he walks or is he simply doing it to grate on my nerves? The latter doesn't seem at all far-fetched.
I stop once the guards close us off from the throne room and spin to face him, my skirts twisting at the abruptness of it. He stops a few feet away with his hands bunched into fists and his lean face red. Any apology I had slips from my mind.
"Do you have it in you to break this habit or are you going to follow me like a lost puppy yet again," I snap, my own cheeks warming at the sight of his broad shoulders and flattering haircut or lack of it I should say. One of the guards in the hall clears his throat quietly as if he were covering a laugh. Link only clenches his jaw.
"You were showing me the castle. What else am I supposed to do?"
"Walking next to me is a viable option. You hadn't even bothered to offer your arm."
He drags his feet in the few steps it takes to reach me and offers his bent arm. "Is that better, Princess?"
"That tone isn't," I spit back but I have to look away once I loop my arm in his and place my hand just above the crook of his elbow. Long gone are the stick-like arms he had before. I fight the urge to flex my fingers in his muscle out of curiosity for how it would feel if I squeezed it. Giving him any ideas is the last thing I want. Or need.
As long as my disinterest is clear, Father and Banzetta will have no choice but to give up this little mission of theirs. I won't marry a man I don't like, least of all him even if they enticed me with an endless supply of research and gowns of my choosing.
Our steps echo uncomfortably in the halls. My heels click over the sound of his boots scuffing on the stone, my dress a constant swish and hiss to pair with the scratching of his suit. Father must think himself so clever to send me to tour the castle with prince Link. Like forcing us to be alone in the empty halls will spark some sort of connection. It's more a wedge than the flint and steel used to make a flame.
Unending quiet interrupted only by our shoes and clothing. He doesn't ask about what I don't point out. As far as I know, he's not even looking. Each time I spare a glance at this suitor of mine, I find him straight faced and a little red, staring ahead down the seemingly endless paths through the castle. I'd assume he loves the silence considering he refused to talk before and seems to favor staying quiet now.
Not being able to stand it, I say, "How is your mother?"
"She's fine."
"And your sister?"
"Fine as well." His short answers are infuriating.
"And that's all? There's no other details about them other than them being fine?"
"There is but I'm simply shocked you're able to have a conversation without yelling like a toddler having a tantrum." My mouth falls open and I yank my arm from his, stopping abruptly. He lets his arm drop and turns to face me. Even if I stood on my toes, I wouldn't be level with him like I want to be. I settle for taking another step back.
"Well I'm so very sorry that I was irritated by the odd boy following me around aimlessly."
"I wasn't following you, I was trying to talk to you. You ignored me." I grip my skirt in my fists at the downright lie.
"You didn't say a word except for when your father made you!"
"Maybe you just didn't hear me over your shrieking."
"Shrieking," I gape. Who does he think he is?
"Almost identical to how you sound right now."
I clamp my mouth shut at that and feel my cheeks redden from either anger or embarrassment. Fitting I suppose for what I did to him those years ago. The only thing missing is a crowd to witness it.
"Show yourself the castle," I snap, gathering my skirts to get away from him as quickly as possible.
He watches me stomp past, his arms hung at his sides. He should be more smug; he won after all.
Shrieking, I repeat in my head as I put distance between me and that boy.
I comb through every detail I remember from the last time I saw him. I'd been introduced to several princes that evening, mostly younger brothers of princes set to be the heir in their respective kingdoms. Marriage to a princess would ensure them a crown.
I'd met Link last and I recall being disappointed at the sight of him. After all the other young men I'd met, he was the only one who looked more like a boy. And he wasn't confident like them either. When he did speak, I could hardly hear him. We went through the greetings and I was polite then I went on my way to socialize with some of the other princesses attending.
It took me a few minutes to notice him trailing me. I started seeing him in the corner of my vision, staying a healthy distance away but close enough to irk me. I'd let it go on for almost an hour before I had enough of it and turned on him to give him a piece of my mind. Never once did he come up and try to talk to me. He can't claim it now just because he wants to paint me as the rude one. Making up fibs to guilt me is rude enough.
I turn a corner with the intention of hiding on the balcony in this wing when I see Father and king Banzetta already making their way there. They're all smiles and friendly conversation until they hear my angry footsteps.
"Zelda," Father says, his thick brows furrowing, "where's prince Link?"
I stop in front of the men, cutting them both the glares they deserve. "I left him somewhere near the library." I turn to Banzetta and add, "I can see why that son of yours is twenty and unmarried. He's rude and you ought to teach him how to behave around a lady." I ignore the embarrassment on Father's face. Maybe he shouldn't have brought them here in a sorry attempt at a union.
"I apologize for anything he said," Banzetta says, surprise across his features. "Perhaps you should-"
"I'm not interested."
I breeze past without giving either of them a second chance to talk. I can act just as ridiculous and match their schemes if necessary.
With my dress a constant swish behind me, I take the long way around the castle to my room. The short way would involve coming across prince Link if he's still lingering in those halls. I hope he gets lost and has to ask a guard for assistance. Or maybe he'll be stubborn enough to wander aimlessly for hours. One can only dream.
I ask a passing maid to have tea sent to my room as it's coming up on noon and I refuse to go a day without it. A fact I don't doubt Father took into account when he asked I show Link the castle. I'm sure he thought it the perfect opportunity to force us to sit in the same room, sharing biscuits and tea while drifting on to more personal topics to get to know one another. Feigning interest in his hobbies sounds more exhausting than simply being in the same room as him.
Nonna is fluffing my pillows when I finally reach the prince free sanctuary of my bed chambers. She straightens and places her hands on her wide hips, her wrinkly face telling me everything without her having to say a word.
"I don't like him," I say.
"It hasn't even been an hour."
I sit in one of the armchairs placed in front of my fireplace, crossing my arms over each other. "Well I'm glad to know I didn't waste more time than necessary."
"You haven't given that poor boy a chance."
"Poor boy? He was rude, I'll have you know."
"Oh I'm sure he was terribly rude to you, my dear," she says, her tone mocking. "But I know for a fact that little mouth of yours started it." Said mouth falls open as I twist in my seat to face her.
"I did not."
"Don't play me for stupid, girl. I've known you since you were born and you've proven to be a crafty little creature when things don't go your way." I open my mouth once again, this time to complain, but she holds up a finger and shushes me. "I popped you on the mouth back then and I'm not above doing it now."
I scowl with as much cheek as I can muster. After mother died, Nonna became more a caretaker than a maid. She'd bathe me, read me to sleep, go over my studies with me. And with all that, the occasional punishment was included when I'd push the rules too far. The threat of getting a pop on the mouth at nineteen has me treading more carefully than before. Nonna doesn't bluff. I tested that theory years ago when I didn't stop before she counted to three.
"You're going to go back down there," she adds.
"I will not."
"Goddesses, you are a stubborn girl."
"And you're not?" I dare. She's still far enough away that I may outrun her. But perhaps not her shoe.
"Come back with that question when you learn the difference between stubbornness and wisdom." Even with being a crafty little creature as she calls me, I have nothing to fire back with. "Aside from accusing him of being rude, what else did you not like? Was he not very pretty to look at?"
My cheeks burn as I admit, "No, he was quite handsome actually."
"So you don't have to worry about strange looking children."
"Nonna!"
"Don't give me that look; it's a valid concern." I might have pointed out how odd he looked as a child if the thought of being intimate with him to bear children hadn't rendered me speechless. "Tell me what else about him was so vile you felt the need to storm up here."
"Just-" I wave my hand, struggling for the words. "Him, Nonna. The way he walked and his constant red face-"
"That's called blushing, my dear." The detail jogs another memory.
"That's the other thing. I overheard him talking to his father and he said he likes me. For a while it seems."
She raises her brows, obviously surprised to hear this news. "Is that not a good thing then?"
"I don't know." I fall back into my chair, sitting nothing like a lady. Is it a good thing that he likes me? "But then he acted like that. Wouldn't a man act differently if he liked a woman?" Pleasant perhaps.
"If you don't give a man a reason to act on his feelings, you can't be upset when he keeps them to himself."
Before I can find some way to argue with her logic, a knock sounds at my doors. Nonna cuts me a look on her way to answer it. "If that's your father, you're on your own." A lecture is waiting for me after I embarrassed him and Banzetta like that. And Link for that matter.
But it's just a maid bringing the tea I asked for. Nonna carries the tray in, her face more annoyed from the lone fact that I planned on holing myself up in my room with my tea.
She doesn't lecture me though. She makes me a cup and piles a small plate full of pastries to set in front of me before making herself a cup.
I munch on my pastries, trying to keep crumbs off my dress while ignoring Nonna's pointed silence. Or it is quiet until she says, "You're going back down there for lunch."
"I'll do no such thing." I wash down a chocolate filled puff with tea and reach for another.
"Don't tell me you're going to eat sweets for lunch rather than real food." I don't need to say a word to confirm her suspicions. She clicks her tongue and brings her cup to her lips. "You'd rather have a sick stomach than get to know the young man."
"Queasy stomachs go away eventually," I retort, biting into a particularly sugary strawberry tart.
"And so will he if you go on ignoring him."
"Good riddance, I say." I swipe a bit of powdered sugar from the corner of my lips before going in for another bite.
"No, not good riddance. You only have so many chances with these princes before your father is going to pick for you and I can guarantee you won't like that." I suppose I have been getting away with it long enough, turning down suitors left and right. "You'll go down for dinner and behave yourself like the polite young lady you're supposed to be."
"I won't," I snap, reaching for another pastry, but she pulls my plate away before I can.
"No more of these unless you're going to eat real food."
"But-"
"If you agree to go down for dinner, you can have these back."
"An ultimatum, Nonna?"
"Precisely." She raises a brow, no doubt hearing my stomach growl. This was the first time I ate today since I skipped breakfast out of spite.
I eye the unfinished sweets on my plate and the still full platter of chocolate puffs and strawberry tarts on the table, both of which she's pulled out of my reach like I'm a little girl. That leaves me with only tea for the rest of the day since she's traditional enough to withhold dinner if I ask for it to be brought up.
I sit back and cross my arms once more. "Fine," she says as she stands and gathers the best part of teatime onto the tray. "Your stubbornness knows no bounds, my dear."
As if to add to the effect, she kisses the top of my head before going, leaving me with my half-full teacup and the pot. Tea in place of food for the rest of the day. How ridiculous.
And ridiculous she's playing into this little scheme of Father's. I thought she was supposed to have my side, not his.
Finishing my cup of tea, I stand and brush off any crumbs on the front of my skirt before heading to my shelves for a book. I have to keep my mind occupied somehow to ignore not only the growing hunger in my belly but also the prince wandering somewhere in the castle. I don't want to be thinking about where he could possibly be at this moment or wondering if he wants to take back what he said.
Of course he wouldn't, I say in my head as I study the spines of my books. He wouldn't have said it otherwise.
"Shrieking," I scoff to myself. I should have compared him to a mute.
I pluck a book from my plentiful shelves and take it to my bed, kicking off my shoes before lying down. Nonna would have my head if she knew I had my heels on the clean sheets.
I breeze through the first few chapters, quickly realizing that this is going to be a good story. A princess like myself, the girl in the book is struggling to unlock some sacred power of hers. It certainly seems more stressful than choosing a suitor.
Caught up in the impending doom threatening this princess's kingdom, I turn page after page, my eyes darting back and forth, soaking up each detail. How dramatic it would be to know what evil is lurking beneath the surface and you don't yet know how to stop it. And how utterly terrifying.
I roll onto my stomach, chewing on my lip when she's finally about to meet this knight escort she's been dreading. I don't blame her. She already has so much on her shoulders and now she's going to have some knight following her around. "We can hate him together," I mutter, turning the page.
My mouth falls open as I read. He kneels before me, bowing his head to reveal a messily made ponytail to hold back his blond hair.
I only get so far after that before I snap the book shut. Blond. Blue eyes. A tall, strong swordsman. Instead of imagining an entirely new man, all my mind could form was Link. What are the odds of a randomly picked book containing a character nearly identical to the visiting prince?
"Very funny," I grumble as I toss the book to the other side of my bed. It should be impossible. The universe must think it absolutely hilarious to toy with me like that.
I finally notice how much the sunlight has dimmed in my room since I ran up here. It has to have been hours. Nearing dinner by now.
I curse the grumbling from my belly when I stretch. It would take all my pride to go downstairs to the dining room. I can't lose to Link and Nonna on the same day. No, I'll leave the men to it, hopefully embarrassing all three of them at once.
Since I have nothing better to do, I get up to head to my bathing room. Getting ready for bed is better than sitting around and waiting for the sun to go down.
I only make it halfway when I hear a light knock on my door. Light as if the person didn't want me to hear it.
Sighing, I go to open it, expecting a flighty maid to be on the other side, not prince Link. Red faced as usual, he stands there awkwardly, his brows furrowing at the sight of me.
"What are you doing here?" I ask. I keep my eyes glued to his face and reign in my thoughts before I get too carried away by the fact that he's even taller now that I'm barefoot under my dress.
"I'm supposed to collect you for dinner."
My nose scrunches and I curse the low grumbling from my stomach. "I'm not hungry. You can tell your father that I don't accept this as an apology either. Now I'll say goodnight." Keeping to my act, I go to give the door a satisfying slam in his face.
His arm shoots out at the same moment, stopping it in its tracks. I try and fail to push it closed with all my weight. It simply doesn't budge and all he has on it is one hand. My heart thumps harder than it should and I feel the pounding in my heated cheeks.
"Apology for what?" he says.
"For being rude." I strain one last time to close the door. It doesn't move an inch.
"You're forgetting that you started it, Princess."
"Don't call me that." I swear the corner of his lips twitch upwards. Not quite a smile but not completely straight faced either.
"Does it bother you?"
"No."
"Liar." My cheeks heat thoroughly, turning me a perfectly horrendous shade of pink.
"You're an arse," I hiss. Nonna would pop me on the mouth if she heard that come from me.
"And you're a spoiled brat." I set my jaw, grinding my teeth together. I should've stuck with 'princess.'
My chest heaves once. "I said I'm not hungry." I bite out each word, straining to keep from giving him anything else he can use against me.
"We can do this all evening. The sooner you come down, the sooner you can get away from me." I hate how he's right.
"Fine."
"Fine."
I lift my skirts to walk to where I left my shoes. He stays in the doorway, picking at his golden cufflinks.
I sit in my armchair much more gracefully than before and drag up the hems to reach my feet. My corset digs into my middle when I bend, squishing all my insides. Link must enjoy watching me struggle.
But he's not looking at me at all when I glance up to take in the smugness I expected. His eyes dart around everywhere but at me. "Are the sight of my ankles too scandalous for you?" I huff, reaching down in another attempt at slipping my feet into these cursed things.
My lack of permission for entering my room doesn't deter him from striding inside, unbothered by my comment. My glare does nothing to stop him from kneeling before me and picking up each foot, sliding them into my heels.
"No," he says, finally answering my question. "Now can we go or are you going to find something else to stall with?"
"I wasn't stalling." More blood rushes to my face at the feel of his calloused hand placed halfway up my calf. Under my dress. I jerk my leg out of his grip. "That was entirely inappropriate."
"You didn't stop me."
"You didn't even ask." Likely because I would have scoffed if he'd asked to put my heels on for me.
Shrugging, he stands, offering me his hand. I swat it away and stand on my own despite how much I enjoyed the feel of it. Now I'm being the ridiculous one, letting my mind fill with lewd thoughts.
Only when we're out of my room do I take his arm. Maybe I have to dine with him, but I'm determined to hate every minute of it.
Father and Banzetta are already standing near their seats at the end of a painfully silent walk with the prince to the dining room. They chose seats across from each other rather than Father sitting at the head of the table like he normally does. A show of friendship perhaps. Or more likely their method of forcing Link and I to sit across from each other.
My chair next to Father is pulled out for me by a servant and I sit, glaring at the boy across from me. Once I am seated, the men follow suit. Link returns my scowl and both our fathers share more silent looks.
"It's nice for you to join us, Zelda," Father says.
"I didn't have much of a choice in the matter, did I?" I throw a glance at king Banzetta. "Not when one of you sent me an unneeded escort."
"I sent prince Link to get you." Father leans closer to me and drops his tone. "I don't appreciate this attitude. Behave yourself." I refrain from scoffing.
He sent Link up to my room. My own father told him where my room was. Now I suppose he can come any time he wants to bother me.
Servants bring soup for the first course. The perfectly filled and garnished bowl is placed in front of me and it's an effort to not devour it with the constant growling from my stomach. I remember my manners and take small sips like I was taught. It's nothing like how Link is eating.
I note that he's left-handed as is his father. An interesting little fact I didn't notice until now. But it doesn't excuse the way he's eating like a heathen, practically slurping his soup down like someone is going to take it from him.
Father and Banzetta engage in their own conversation in the hopes we'll join or strike up one as well. The only way I'm staying civil is by keeping my mouth shut.
An eternity seems to pass before the main course is brought in: grilled lamb and roasted asparagus. The soup was only enough to stave off a bit of the hunger but it's as though I've eaten nothing once the hearty plate of meat and vegetables is set in front of me. I catch the scent of fresh herbs and butter and my mouth waters.
I can't be bothered to hide my disgust when I see how Link is eating this course. He hardly chews before he swallows the bite. "It's already dead," I say, cutting a manageable piece of meat, "it's not going anywhere." His cheeks go red instantly and he scowls at his plate. Banzetta doesn't help any when he lifts his glass of wine to cover a laugh.
"Zelda," Father warns. "You will keep such comments to yourself."
"Oh, it's alright, Rhoam," Banzetta says. He lowers his glass with a smile still on his lips. "He does have the habit of rushing through meals." Link goes a darker shade of red. I think I have a dress in that color.
"Still, rather than embarrassing the young man, why don't you tell them of your most recent research?"
"And bore them to death?" My first bite of lamb is heavenly and I follow it with a piece of asparagus. I just don't want to be made fun of for enjoying studying more than picking out jewels.
"I doubt you would bore us." Banzetta smiles, turning to his son. "Right?"
"I don't know," the prince says. "I find she talks too much already." A sharp-tipped arrow aiming for the heart.
Father chokes on his wine while Banzetta is quick to smack the side of his son's head, foregoing manners since we've already tossed them out the window. I blink away the prickling at my eyes and set my utensils down. "At least I talk instead of quietly trailing a princess as if she would be interested in an ugly little boy like you." His clenched jaw is all I need to know I hit my mark.
"Zelda!"
"You didn't look all that cute yourself, Princess."
"Excuse me?" I gape.
"That poofy pink dress and the stupid braid across your head. And that's not to mention the permanent redness across your nose and cheeks that made you look like you had a fever." I cover my nose even though that embarrassing little mark is long gone.
"That's quite enough," Banzetta says and I let out the scoff I've been holding in all evening.
"It's your fault to begin with. If you and Father hadn't decided to take it upon yourselves to force a marriage between us, we wouldn't be having this pleasant little conversation now would we?"
Link whirls on his father, his eyes wide in surprise. "That's what this is?" He can't possibly be this oblivious.
"Don't tell me you're really that stupid you didn't realize this was a setup," I sneer. Father gives up all attempts at keeping us civil and takes a long draught from his wine.
"I'm not marrying her!"
"Like I would ever say yes if you asked!"
Banzetta slumps in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Goddess help us."
"Goddess help your son if he's ever going to be married!" My chair nearly tips after I stand.
Link launches to his feet as well, sending his chair to the floor. "I'll make sure to pray for whatever man you end up with while I'm at it!"
My mouth opens, another insult on my tongue ready to spit back at him but Father stands, cutting us off. "Now that really is enough out of the two of you," he says with a calm that makes me blink. "Yes, we planned this for you to get to know one another and hoped it might result in marriage."
I cross my arms over my chest, not once shifting my glare away from my suitor. "Am I not capable of deciding who I'll marry?"
"It's not that you aren't capable of choosing a husband, my dear, it's that you've driven off every prince who showed interest in you with your...attitude."
"I do not have an attitude!"
"I beg to differ," Link scoffs.
His father takes a long drink of wine and swirls the glass. "Don't think you're innocent in this. You're so unbearably awkward with the ladies that most don't see you fit for marriage."
So that's what this is. A match made out of pity. No one else wants us so we're stuck with each other. It doesn't change the fact that I don't like him. I'll have to agree with his princesses and say he's unfit for marriage.
Several moments of uncomfortable silence pass. Banzetta finishes his wine and Link loses his defensive stance, letting his eyes fall down to the table. My arms remain crossed over my chest and Father looks between all of us.
"Can we all sit and try to be civil?" I don't have to look at Father to know the question was aimed almost entirely at me.
Lifting my chin higher, I say, "No. I'm going to bed and I'd appreciate being left alone." I grab my skirts and leave, the click of my heels being the only sound in the dining room.
Attitude. Shrieking. Chasing away all the princes except for this one. I refuse to believe he's the only prince available to me and it's even harder to believe I'm the only princess left for him. I'd think more would see past his awkwardness and go for the handsome looks instead.
I'll send letters myself if I have to and apologize to my previous suitors for something I didn't do if it meant Link would leave. I'm in too deep to apologize to him now and it wouldn't change how I feel about him.
The shuffling sound of his boots drags me from my schemes and I turn to find him about eight feet away. "Would you stop following me!" I shout, not caring if I'm shrieking.
"For the love of Hylia, I'm not following you! My room is that way too!" he shoots back, gesturing past me. It would seem Father put him in one of the empty rooms near my bed chambers.
"Oh, go sleep in the stables or something!"
"Maybe I will! It'd be better than being around you!"
"You're an arse, Link!"
"Says the spoiled brat no one wants!" I don't have it in me to scream at him that no one wants him either.
I manage to hold in the hot tears until his back is to me as he stalks off going Hylia knows where. Anywhere I'm not, I remind myself.
I smear the tears from my cheeks, angry that they're even there. I can't be crying over a boy I hate.
And yet I am. If that's not a reason to hate him more, then I don't know what is.