Even at the age of six, Princess Zelda did not fidget. She was a solemn little figure in a light blue dress almost larger than she was. Her hair had been carefully braided and piled atop her head and her hands were clasped in front of her. Her dignity all but matched that of the king's. She waited with too much patience for the exchange of greetings with the Gerudo ambassadorial party to end.

Meanwhile, the object of her interest was not faring as well.

In a sea of dark skin and flaming hair, one boy stood out: he was like her. He was her age, had her blue eyes. His skin was darker than any other Hylian's, and his blonde hair brighter. Despite his ponytail, patterned tunic, and loose pants, there was no mistaking him for a Gerudo. Every few minutes he would stretch or scuff his feet against the ground, and a Gerudo woman would rap her knuckles on the top of his head for his trouble.

Only once the formalities were over did Zelda ask quietly, "Who was that boy?"

"A foundling," her father answered. "Raised by the Gerudo from infancy."

One of the nearest courtiers snorted. "Yes," he drawled, "I'm certain they found him quite easily."

"Poor lad," his wife muttered.

The princess was sent along to wait for dinner to be served. When she was out of earshot of the rest of the Hylian court, she asked, "Why does everyone think the Gerudo stole him?"

Impa put a fond hand on top of her head and didn't answer.

They went to the gardens, Zelda's favorite place. At some point during the journey, Impa disappeared, but Zelda did not mind. She knew beyond a doubt that Impa was always there whether she could be seen or not.

Zelda was rocking on her heels in the soft grass, wondering whether she should crouch down to look at some flowers, when she heard the voices. They were speaking in Gerudo, a language Zelda did not yet know, though Impa had promised to teach her. One was the Gerudo king, because only he spoke that deeply. As they drew nearer to one of the windows, she heard the other voice resolve into that of a small boy.

"Daaaaa," the boy pleaded, but the man cut him off and kept talking. Zelda crept toward the window they were closest to and peered inside.

It was the blonde foundling boy. The Gerudo king was frowning down at him. The boy scuffed the toe of his shoe against the stone floor and said something very respectfully. The man nodded, and the boy skipped away. Only once the foundling was gone did the Gerudo king look sharply up at Zelda.

Zelda bit her lip and backed away, gaze returning to the garden around her.

She had just decided that no one would mind if she were a little unladylike and bent down to look at the flowers when she heard stomping footsteps from behind her. She turned around to see the boy standing in the middle of the garden, looking entirely overwhelmed.

"I don't speak Gerudo," she told him.

"That's okay," he replied. He squatted and pressed his hand against the ground, fingers curling around the grass. She watched as he straightened and pulled off his shoes.

"Are you a prince?" Zelda asked dubiously.

He wrinkled his nose. "No, I'm Link." He took a few experimental, shuffling steps, and then jumped, delighted.

Zelda pushed her lips into a frown. "I am Princess Zelda."

"Uh-huh," he said agreeably. He stopped playing with the grass long enough to make an attempt at a bow. It did not last long before he was distracted by the stream that curved around the garden. For a moment, Zelda thought he was going to jump in, but he stopped at the edge and lay flat on his belly, nose almost touching the surface of the water. "Wow."

It was a good thing that he had not been wild enough to jump into a decorative stream, but even so, Zelda felt pity for how much he clearly wanted to. So with some effort, she removed her own shoes, along with the short stockings underneath them. She held up her skirts and stepped slowly into the cool water. If her father caught her like this, she would probably be in trouble.

"Wait!" Link cried, distraught. He pushed himself into a sitting position and gaped at her. "You'll get it dirty!"

"It's not for drinking," she assured him. He made such a helplessly puzzled expression that she giggled. "It's not for anything. Just the garden."

Link's eyes widened. He stretched out a leg to carefully place one foot in the water. Zelda smiled at him, and he grinned back.

Soon they were both wading up and down the shallow stream. They both made certain not to splash or get their clothes wet, but even their caution was a little giddy. Zelda would not have admitted it, but this was as new to her as it was to Link, despite her spending time here nearly every day. She was a princess; it was unseemly for her to do things like this. If she was caught, she would tell her father that it was a diplomatic exercise. It was an awful lot of fun.

Zelda knew the fun was over when she turned around and her Sheikah guardian was there. "Impa—"

"It's nearly time for the banquet, Your Highness," Impa informed her.

Zelda stepped out of the stream, and Link hastily followed. Impa led her to the stone dais and produced a towel seemingly from nowhere. "Am I in trouble?" Zelda asked.

Impa began drying off her feet and ankles. "Not if you can find your shoes and stockings, Your Highness."

Once she was all dry, Zelda hurried to where she had left her shoes. Meanwhile, Impa beckoned Link over and began drying his feet as well.

"Thank you," Link offered.

Impa raised her eyebrows at him. "Both of you should get to the dining hall before you're missed."

Zelda, now that she had her shoes on again, walked with the dignity of a future ruler. Link walked beside her, tugging at the edge of his tunic. Impa herded them from behind. The dining hall was already full of courtiers by the time they arrived. Zelda's father was closest and so noticed them first. "Ah, Impa, you found them."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Impa gently prodded them forward and stepped back, already half faded into the background. "Playing in the courtyard."

"They are getting along already," Zelda's father declared. He smiled broadly at the Gerudo king. "As I was saying, I think Link would benefit from being fostered here for a time, among his own people."

"No," the Gerudo king said flatly. Link pulled a private face at Zelda and trotted over to his guardian's side. "With all due respect, he is still very young."

"Perhaps in a few years, then," Zelda's father pressed.

"Perhaps." Even Zelda could tell that he was only saying that so he would not seem rude.

Zelda hoped that Link would return. She could not say exactly why, but she liked him. And as he smiled lopsidedly at her from beside the other king, she thought that maybe her father had not been all wrong. Maybe she had found a new friend.