Chapter 4

-o-

The Last Heir

She was walking. She was seeing, she was breathing, she was hearing. She was feeling. But. If she stopped she might have wondered what was beneath her feet, which colors were before her eyes and if she really did feel. Even then she might not have perceived the glaring faults around her. Even if she did ask a question, she would probably come up with an answer that would satisfy her. Even though it did not explain anything. The lack of logic that was now her reality could not be defeated by reason. It was like finding oneself driving a car while sitting in the passenger seat. One might say, "I can't drive in this seat," but then notice the wheel in one's hands, and all of a sudden one accept the madness as something sensible. Such is the logic of dreams.

Her surroundings did not make much of an impression on her, so they were grey. It was like walking through the thickest of fogs, aware of the ground but not seeing it, and only fooled into thinking one is feeling it. The world was not empty though. Twinkling glimmers of silver pierced through the mist and danced down the finest of threads. The delicate strings crisscrossed their way through the vast space and, in spite of how fragile they looked, made her feel insignificantly small. She could guess that this was a beautiful web, and she was able to walk freely through its holes, but was too small to be able to distinguish its pattern.

She sauntered about, her mind at complete ease, all the chains of life forgotten and thus not existing. The only thing that was threatening to disturb her peace was a sense of déjà-vu that refused to leave her alone. She could not recall any past, so why would she be tormented by this feeling of familiarity? She had been nowhere, so how could she ever have been here?

Her eyes stayed on one of the lights, like a lone star twirling its way down a slide. It shrunk away, but by the time it had disappeared something else had crossed her field of vision. She was not alone. She saw the figure of a man, which hundreds of threads had attached themselves to. His jet black form made him nothing but a shadow, but there was a depth to his being that convinced her he was of flesh and blood, like her. A tunic wrapped itself around his frame, stretched across the broad back, was held in place by a thick belt that hugged the waist. The legs were shaped as those of a wanderer who did nothing but tread along a never-ending path.

This was a person she recognized.

"Link," she thought herself whispering.

The dark silhouette did not respond. Since she had first laid eyes on him he had been struggling against the threads that innocently stuck to him. He wrung about. He pulled, he tore, he twisted and turned with the desperation of someone trapped in a wild uncontrollable blaze. How could such a subtle touch distress him so? It alarmed her. Why she did not know. It cooled her blood, which slowed down – perhaps enough to make the pace too slow for her heart.

"Link," she said again, still steadfastly believing that she knew his name.

She called again and again, but he fought on as if he had not heard her. There was not even a second's hesitance from him to reveal that he had, at least, taken notice of her presence. Was it that bad for him to let the strings be? They would not harm him, she was certain. They held on to him with the same loving desperation a mother would to its child. How come he could not let this world remain the way it was? And why did it cause her such panic that he would not hear her?

"Don't fight them," she told him and took a step closer. However, in that same moment the strings snapped. It was soundless and sudden, like when a hand wisps away a spiderweb. Everything slowed down, his arms falling down to his sides, the silver threads moving around with the delicacy of a ballet dancer balancing on the tips of its toes. Even the light reflecting off the threads froze. The world itself was shocked into petrification.

That was when she finally looked past him, and she was turned to stone as well.

It rose like a black wall, its size disturbing in the way that it had been an intruding witness she ought to have noticed long ago. The dark – not that of blue midnight, specked with stars – was plain and unknown. No eye could penetrate its depths. There was no way to tell if this was the harsh end, or an overwhelming infinity.

"Link, Link," she called. Or at least she thought that she opened her mouth to stop him from going to the shadow he was facing. Her thoughts only happened to be miles ahead of her feeble actions. The darkness was timeless unlike her who was fighting the clock. Its mere presence seemed to mock her inability to make herself known in time. Her gaze crept into the dark. It swept along the ground, crawled into the narrowest spaces, but no matter how hard she looked she saw nothing. Then, rather than seeing, it was as if she felt another presence. As if she could feel the consistency in the air being more compact in one area. She flinched as her gaze came to an abrupt halt and slowly she began to distinguish a silent bystander. It was the same freezing feeling as being splashed with cold water.

The shape of it reminded her of a giant owl, hunched, triangular, menacing and unblinkingly observing. Her mouth was still trying to create the sound of Link's name, but now she felt that it would transform into nothing but silence. Her throat was hurting as if she was choking.

The shadow saw its opportunity. It spread like the mantle of a lunging vampire, like the wings of a bat. It swallowed all and came at her before her mind could comprehend the danger she was in. Despite there being nothing but black, the one thing she saw was a gaping Cheshire Cat smile, silently laughing and colliding into her.

Her eyes shot open. She was lying flat on her back, hands pressed down over the blanket and her mouth open, craving air. Oxygen entered her lungs. Her eyelids began to flutter from opened to closed and back again, like the desperate flapping of a bird's wing, trying to keep her from plunging down into shock.

Zelda remembered. She had been having the same dream for months now. Link struggling for his life to break free from his chains – to get away from her and fleeing away into a shadow – and never responding. The difference from other times was that up until now he had never been successful. She felt cold despite the warmth of her bed. She had taken too long to do what the foreboding dreams had required of her, and now they were pressing their point.

Her hands grasped feverishly at her blanket, her eyes blinked at the ceiling where the enlarged brick pattern was dissolving into a blurry mass. She realized that she had woken up from a deep sleep. One that would not let go of her. She had only reached the surface long enough to take one breath and now she was sinking back into the ocean of dreams. She stretched her arms, barely finding the strength to lift them, towards the white ceiling in hope of finding something to grasp at that could pull her up, but there was nothing. What if sleep made her forget? What if the time had run out? She had to see Link this very moment. No matter the late hour. Nothing else would bring peace to her mind.

But her arms fell down. Her exhausting efforts would not even allow her to utter a sound before consciousness slipped away from her and left her in humiliating defeat. Sleep had always been a cruel master to her.

Knock, knock.

What was this pounding feeling? A pulsing headache that knocked on her skull. Her fingers found their way through thick masses of hair and she held her head with eyes shut tightly. It helped somewhat, and she rolled over onto her side and snuggled down deeper under the covers as the sounds ebbed away. A soft feeling of clouds was left tickling her mind, beckoning her to remember something important. Now, what had she been thinking before she fell asleep? Had she been dreaming? Just as she thought that she was safe to remove her hands, and stretch like a cat waking up from a nap, the sound of knocks hit her eardrums once again.

Zelda threw off the blanket and sat up, trying to blink away the daylight burning her eyes. There was someone at her door? Few woke up earlier than she did, so why this sudden visit? She scrambled out of bed, groaning when her muscles ached as if she had just woken up after a tough workout, albeit the most straining thing she had done yesterday was reading a book.

The princess staggered away from the bed, almost tripping over her long nightgown. The day could not be said to have even begun, but everything felt off. Was the room not a lot brighter than usual? The sunlight poured past the see-through curtains. She turned around and peered at the jumbled sheets, also off because she was not one to toss around in her sleep. Pressing a palm to her forehead, she fumbled after the alarm clock posted on her desk. It faced her bed because she liked the time to be the first thing she saw when she woke up, and she did not plan on missing out on that habit. She needed order, and was quite fond of the convenient little invention. One of her first purchases.

The knocks, now quicker and harder, shook her calm again.

Link. It suddenly struck her. That dream again? The web and her childhood friend's struggle, and – what more – she had wanted him to stay trapped? There was something important that she needed to do. That much she could remember. Nayru, was it Link outside her room? Say that it was. No one else would search her out first thing in the morning. Could the dream have meant that now was the time to act? This was the crucial moment where she could no longer let Link get away without an explanation.

Zelda tried to piece her memories together, tried to catch the ones that evaded her like feathers in the wind, while she hurried to the door. "Coming, coming," she said, tearing the robe that was part of a set with her nightgown off its hanger on the wardrobe door. Since it was Link, covering up with the robe would do, even though at home she would have been scolded to be seen in only her nightwear, or with her hair loose.

"I am so sorry. Did I keep you waiting?" she gasped when she, bent over and trying to fix the knot that kept her robe closed, opened the door to greet Link. What she found outside in place of her friend, however, was a pretty bewildered prince of Altea. Marth's eyes widened as he pulled back in surprise. The light ochre tone of his skin took on a pale tint of red and his lips parted, probably to reprimand her, before the door was slammed in his face by the screaming princess.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear," her mind chanted when she pressed her back to the door. He could not have been able to peek down her nighty from that angle? No, no, no. Her hair had been all over the place too, hanging over her face. She had almost tripped out the door with little to no grace. Why was he here?

She sighed and pushed some hair out of the way. It was most urgent that she saw Link as soon as possible. Not even the time it took for a polite refusal to see Marth could be wasted, but what could she do?

She hurried away from the door and used her hands to comb her hair, ripping a hair ribbon from the dressing table to tie it into a ponytail. With exaggerated force she pulled her robe closed, as tightly as she could, and made her white silky nightgown completely invisible. She ran her hands over the smooth fabric, checked her hair one last time and swallowed deeply before she grabbed the door handle once more.

"Prince Marth, what can I do for you?" the princess said and crossed her arms. Marth's expression was the exact same as before he had got a door thrown in his face. His gaze had stayed on the very same spot where she had disappeared and reappeared in the blink of an eye. Zelda doubted that he could stretch his neck any more than he was doing without looking as if he was practicing limbo. Then he finally shook his head and looked into her eyes, with the usual down to earth presence in his gaze.

"How come you are not dressed? I assumed that you were planning on having a late breakfast to have more time getting ready, but I can see that Princess Peach did the right thing when she sent me to check on you. Have you forgotten that we are to attend the meeting regarding the prophet issue? We need to leave in half an hour."

"Half an hour?" she echoed in disbelief. Unable to utter another word, her expression asked him to deny it. But he frowned at the confused darting movements of her pupils and leant in closer to whisper, "is there anything I should know about? You don't usually sleep in late."

Her breath was uneven when she grabbed the side of the door. "No, I'm fine. I'll be there in a minute. I'll just..." She closed the door.

Zelda thanked her strict upbringing for forcing out the habit to plan ahead. She picked up the dress and the jewelery that she had put out neatly the night before in a big bundle and pushed the door open with her shoulder. The small effort alone made her sigh. A sigh that was drawn out when she found the prince was still there waiting for her.

"Marth, I'm fine," she repeated. She brushed by him and headed towards the bathroom, but the sound of his footfalls followed her and soon he was at her side. She kept her gaze nailed to the floor, as did he.

"Princess Zelda, you really shouldn't..." Marth started, but hearing what his tacky breath did to his voice made him fall silent. He scratched his nose, taking a sneak peak at the girl beside him. "The women are in a painstakingly clear minority here. You should realize what the odds are that there is a man knocking on your door," he said, scowling at her. "Zelda," he added, dropping the title.

"I thought it was Link," she said. Both knew that the prince would not come with any reply to that.

When Zelda finally looked up she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the line leading to the bathroom. It took a moment or two for her to realize that she was not up early enough to avoid the chaos that most of the other inhabitants of the building had to deal with every single morning.

"Oh, no," she whispered, but then set her jaw and approached the other Smashers. "Pardon," she said and waited until she had their attention, which took three repeats of her excuse. "There is a rather pressuring matter at hand, and I have not a moment to spare. Would it be too much trouble if I received priority for this?"

She could not help but to scan the queue for any sign of Link as she spoke. Her gaze swept over Fox, the leader of the Star Fox mercenary team that Falco was also a part of, Mr. Game and Watch, who looked like a cutout of black paper, Pikachu, the electric mouse Pokémon with its long rabbit-like ear,. Luigi, the little brother of the famous Mario, Captain Falcon, as always wearing his red racing helmet with the golden falcon in the front. Several more familiar faces, but no Link.

"You need to stand in line like everybody else," Falcon said, the sharp lights that were in place of his eyes behind the dark visor drilling through her. The intense gazes of the rest agreed.

Zelda pressed the bundle of clothes closer to her body, feeling the men's eyes on her. They had all lived under the same roof long enough for her to know that she was far from a lamb in a wolves' den – add that her nighty was more modest than the average casual wear. It was still an unsettling feeling. She collected herself enough to explain her matter more thoroughly and ask them again when Marth sidestepped in front of her.

The prince's long turquoise mantle effectively shielded her. Zelda could picture the frown on his face and hard gaze, but other than that he looked less than ready for a fight. He was dressed up for the formal meeting, wearing less armor than usual. His blue tunic was replaced by a longer garment – alike its predecessor rimmed with gold, but with more complex embroideries. Unbuttoned from the waist down in the front, it also had long open slits on the sides, which disappeared underneath the brown cummerbund and belt.

The queuing Smashers all eyed Marth's new appearance with great interest. The length of the coat-like garment in particular. There were a couple of exchanged glances. Unintentional smiles that made the corners of their mouths twitch. They all seemed to say the same thing: "Nice dress."

"Now, let's all behave as gentlemen. Ladies first," Marth said, his hand resting on the head of Falchion's golden hilt. The sword and his diadem were the only things from his regular outfit spared from being replaced, as their sentimental value was too great.

"Is that silk?" Fox said, ignoring Marth like everyone else did, and as usual having an eye for anything worth a decent sum of money. People was leaning to the side to have a better look of the shimmering quality of the fabric, and Marth raised his chin with heating cheeks and lips pressed together.

"Well, don't you look all dressed up for the ball," Captain Falcon added to Fox's observation.

"Did you do anything with your hair?

"It's so shiny."

"More than usual."

"Is that perfume I smell?"

"Cologne," Marth snapped.

Zelda held back a smile. Six mere insults before he lost his temper. If Marth bothered to reply – it was too much bogus to be paid any attention – they must have hit a nerve. Was this truly the same man who always let silence speak no matter how upset he was?

"Ooh, cologne," Fox said and the men nodded at each other, repeating the word amongst themselves. They showed no sign to tire of it and Marth was pressing his lips harder together until they were turning blue. His hand was closing tighter around his sword, his knuckles whitening.

"Who's your escort? Roy?"

"Silence!" Marth roared and unsheathed his weapon. Zelda barely had the time to see the others' eyes light up before they all disappeared in a cloud of dust. She shook her head. They enjoyed brawling too much. Marth emerged long enough to make a nod at the deserted bathroom door and she mouthed a "thank you" before she snuck inside.

The bundle in her arms dropped onto the floor. Zelda walked over to the shower, wriggling her dressing gown off her shoulders and it easily slid off her arms and floated to the floor without a sound. The nightgown and underwear followed suit, before she stepped inside the shower and shut the sliding door of frosted glass.

Zelda freed her hair from the ponytail. The blonde locks snaked themselves down her body, but she was quick to tie them up again in a topknot. If she got her hair wet she would most definitely be late. Although, even if she skipped shampoo and conditioner there would not be any time over to see Link. She turned the tap and cold water drizzled like beads of ice onto her skin. She shuddered and wrapped her free arm, the other clenching the shower nozzle, around herself. If only she was a bit more forceful. Why had she not been more persistent in being there for Link when she could tell that he needed her? And now it might be too late. Talk about finding oneself between a rock and a hard place. This meeting would never be allowed to be put aside.

Slowly the water turned hot and engulfed her in a soothing warmth. The steam rose around her and condensed onto the glass. Was she worrying about nothing? It would not do to let anguish ruin the whole day when Link would most likely be the first person to greet her when she got back. A lot more at ease, she grabbed the towel hanging over the glass door and dried herself as she stepped out. Right – it was already decided that she would attend the meeting, so why waste her energy on something she could do nothing about? The first thing she would do once she returned was talk to Link.

Zelda stroked her hands down the white skirt that weighted on her hips and spread out towards the floor. This dress gave off a more formal impression than her usual pastel pink one did, although the wider skirt was a hassle. She grunted as it got in the way when she picked the lavender-colored bodice off the floor. She exited the bathroom and nodded at the men that were now busy getting back in an organized line without starting a second fight.

"You have my thanks, gentlemen," she said, and a couple of distracted smiles and waves responded. Even though a few looked more carefully, she got away without any remarks on getting ahead in line. It was a wonder what a friendly fight could do in this house. Well, so long as they were in a good mood, and she had hurried as not to let them wait.

The princess only made a quick stop when she passed her room, the first one on top of the stairs, and threw her things on the floor in a very "un-princessy" manner. No one would enter, so it was fine. But the ugly pile haunted her thoughts all the way down the stairs. Perhaps she should at least have put it on the bed? It was a shame that the folded robe ended up on the floor. No, no, she did not have the time to turn around now. She was late.

Peach was brushing off Marth's cape, fixing his hair and the angle of the diadem, when Zelda entered the living room. Whether one liked it or not, the princess of the Mushroom Kingdom – pretty as ever – was the first thing for one's eyes to land on, and this in spite of her standing just by the not all too visible entrance hall. The increase in frills and ribbons covering her dress made her more noticeable than if she had eaten a Mega Mushroom.

"Really, Marth, how unlike you to get into such a silly fight. When you were looking so nice too," Peach said, clasping his face between her gloved hands. He gently removed them, leaving her fingers brushing his cheeks.

"It was very foolish of me, Princess," he said. "Please, forgive me."

"I hope that I did not keep you waiting," Zelda cut in. She filled up the one narrow space in the circle of nobles. Besides Peach and Marth there was also the Koopa king Bowser, the young Marquess of Pherae Roy and the Gerudo leader Ganondorf.

"Not at all," Roy ensured her.

"You're just in time Zelda, on the dot as always, and, my, you look stunning," Peach said, swirling around and her many layers of skirts nearly pushing Marth over when they collided into him.

"Thank you, you look beautiful too," Zelda replied and turned to the others. "Then, shall we?"

Bowser, who had been tapping his foot the whole time, bounced over to the door and ripped it open, sending splinters flying as his claws got in contact with more than just the door handle. "Here you go, Peach. You should be grateful," he said, flashing his pointy teeth in a wide grin aimed at the princess. "I don't open the door for just anyone, y'know."

"How nice," Peach said, giving the large Koopa a side-glance as she passed him. The irony was cold enough to make icicles shake and her usual sweetness was gone with an arctic wind. Marth was about to follow her, but Bowser was quicker, and Marth gagged and skidded to a halt when his face ended up inches away from being pierced by the spikes on the back of Bowser's shell. It might have been for the best that the prince remained still, as even though he had been spared from the spikes he would have been knocked to the floor by the door Bowser threw shut had he walked on.

Marth sighed and opened the door again, in a much more elegant manner than the Koopa had. With his head lowered, he stepped to the side and gestured out. "My lady."

"Thank you," Zelda said and nodded at him as she walked past.

Ganondorf turned towards the door, his amber eyes following the Hylian. The hatred in that gaze, which stuck to the princess, was ancient, as if the sight of her turned amber back into golden resin. He lowered his chin, the fiery red eyebrows drowning his eyes in deep shadows and baring the forehead like a charging bull aiming its horns at its prey. He made an attempt to follow her but Marth stuck a foot in-between and slid into the space. The prince's size was a pitiful comparison to that of the Gerudo but that did not stop him from making a dismissive toss with his cape before he walked after Zelda. Ganondorf lingered in the doorway, not the smallest tug at the corner of his mouth betraying what thoughts ran through his mind in that moment.

Roy was quick to scurry after when Ganondorf finally approached the car that was waiting for them. The young lord climbed inside, in a hurry to avoid leaving the rest waiting. His swift step caused his foot to hit the frame and he stumbled onto the seat. He closed the door and grinned while he repositioned himself and his gaze darted to and fro between the others.

"It was a nice surprise to have you join us, Roy," Peach said and the young man smiled at her. The soft drone of the engine sounded, and Peach's body swayed when the car took off with a jerky start across the gravel yard.

"I did not have to come," Roy admitted and tugged at one of his fingerless gloves. There was something apologetic to his voice when he added, "it would be enough if the Marquess of Ostia represented the Lycian League, as its leader. The rest of us can always be informed later. But as it is now, Ostia is going through some rough times of change. Lord Hector of Ostia recently passed away and..." Roy frowned. His hands that were locked together tightened their grip around each other, like a petty replacement for a reassuring hug. He lowered his head with a sigh and his messy red bangs fell down over his headband and hid his expression. He had not wanted to lower the mood, and it was not long before he sat up straight again with a smile, although it did not reach his eyes. Peach lowered her head, sensing the unspoken. These political issues were too complex, too close and too private to share as chitchat during a drive.

"Didn't have to come?" Bowser snorted and broke the glum silence. "Do they let half-nobles like you in at all? This meeting's for royalties, ain't it?"

"Somebody from Lycia has to come," Roy said, trying to keep his voice under control. His hands flew apart and were balled into fists at his sides when he turned to glare at the Bowser who was sitting one step away from him. "We are an alliance without a king, but we're as much of a nation as everyone else."

"Let's not forget the republics," Marth added. He had been sitting with folded arms and eyes closed the whole time, and looked like he intended to stay that way.

"And Roy is more of a noble than you are," Peach cut in. It was a difficult task to injure Bowser with words – his ego was bigger and harder to pierce than his shell – but he was also very careful to listen to everything Peach had to say. Her remark made his face crunch into a grimace and a growling sound left his mouth. Peach interpreted it as him objecting, and that called for insult added to injury. "You're worse than that Dedede person they've talked about on the news. You're just walking around my kingdom causing trouble and calling yourself king."

"Hey, I'll have you know that I was chosen fair and square by my minions, and I do lots of good stuff for the Mushroom Kingdom. It's just that you never invite me to any meetings, or you'd know about that Bowser Theatre I'm installing in my castle."

"It's hardly as if I can keep you away," Peach retorted. "You always barge in, wrecking my castle in the process."

"Wrecking it? I'm always taking good care of that murky ol' castle. I've just moved it around a couple of times. And what do I get for that?"

"Oh, that is far from the truth, but never mind. You should not judge Roy like that when you have a lesser right to attend this assembly."

"If Mario hadn't ruined my latest plan to take over the Mushroom Kingdom you'd be the one not invited."

"Zelda!" Peach said, turning to her friend on her left for assistance. "He's just avoiding the issue."

Zelda's gaze jumped between the other passengers. Bowser's nostrils flared, a puff of thin air leaving them. Her eyes were quick to leave him and stay on Ganondorf and she moistened her lips before she spoke.

"Part of our task is to reach out to people with the width of our influence. We are different, and our cultures are different, but we all share a great responsibility. It's the same in Hyrule. The races are too different for one to expect that the Hylian royal family will gain trust and support from all. The peoples all have their own leaders – there are even monarchies within our monarchy – and we cooperate to create a situation that will satisfy everyone," Zelda said, choosing her words with care. Ganondorf wrinkled his nose and his eyes turned into narrow slits as she spoke. The whole time, the princess appeared to be facing him, although her voice and eyes were addressing everybody. "And we must never forget the outlaws," Zelda added in a darker tone and locked eyes with Ganondorf. "Shunning them will leave a growing hatred for them to feed on, and us unprepared for it. We may not easily abridge the rift between us, but neither can we deny that there is one. That is why, when we are gathering for a meeting of this scale, the Hyruleans will stand united with one representative while the Gerudos will send their own. No matter if we stand together or alone, no one should be left out. Roy has every right to attend, and so does Bowser."

They let her words sink in along with the graveness of the matter. Bowser scratched his head and looked out of the window while the rest remained in deep thought. The only thing he cared to register was that his presence was justified.

The limousine slowed down and the increasing noise from the outside awoke the rest from their pondering. The car came to a soft halt, but the tension and tumult around sent tremors through the nobles as if the ground was shaking and the car along with it. As soon as the door opened flashes from cameras went off and light filled up their view. Peach put down one of her high heeled shoes and lifted her skirt as she stepped out first. This was her world, more than anyone else's, and she waved at the crowd as she walked a few steps down the red carpet, giving the others a few extra second to collect themselves.

Roy hurried to Peach's side, a grin on his face while he tried to blink the blinding flashes away. He walked with some generous space between them and gave the journalists a confident nod, but Peach thought she saw him swallowing. Before Roy could react she linked her arm through his and pulled him to her. Roy gaped at her, his widened eyes moving the the lens of a camera that was dangerously closed to being shoved up their faces, but Peach blew the camera a kiss and pulled Roy away.

Zelda took a moment to look up the building and it felt as if she could tilt her head back no further to get a good view of it. The Parliament Building of Magnavox was an impressive sight, indeed. Society had run away from this aged building. Skyscrapers rose above it. Roads for hovercraft were crossing the sky above their roofs, and even higher were airborne vehicles. It still stood pure white and tall, preserved and cared for.

Buildings like this one; she lived for the same reasons they were built. Most of the time her own interest would coincide with what duty demanded. Not now. Link did not deserve to be pulled into yet another dangerous play by destiny. It hurt inside her to remember the time it had taken for him to recover from the fight with Ganondorf. She had tried to give him his childhood back but he had been too restless and unable to settle down to fully enjoy it, and yet he had always smiled at her. She owed him more than she could ever repay, and it hurt. She owed him as the princess of the land he had saved and as a friend.

If her dreams were connected to what they were supposed to discuss here, was it the right thing to let a chance of taking preventive actions slip her by? Her intellect, her heart, every part of her being wanted to return to Link.

"Zelda?" Marth could only whisper her name, making sure that no one heard. His eyes were bluer than the water of Lake Hylia, the most calming and beautiful lake Zelda knew. If anything, it made her feel less like staying here. "You're the sole heir to the throne of Hyrule. There is no one who can replace you," he said and her reply got stuck in her throat. She did not like to think of what a lonely position she was in. "I know that it can be a burden, but then you should turn to me. We are monarchs before we are anything else. Don't forget that it also means that I am your ally."

Marth walked ahead a few steps down the red carpet and turned to see if she was coming. She forced her feet to move and she thought she knew what Marth had meant to say.

Don't think of him. Was that it?

A/N

I have always found dreams fascinating. In a way, it is frightening to think about how easily we might become victims to ourselves. Dreams make a vivid example of how can we fool ourselves into believing the most ridiculous of things, and then, the following question, what about the less obvious traps (like assumptions and prejudice) in real life?

Maybe my interest helped me write the beginning of this chapter, because the rest of it felt difficult in comparison. One thing I hate is when my thoughts go like this: That dream must make Zelda oversleep or else she will see Link and she is not supposed to. If she oversleeps she will have trouble getting into the bathroom and she has to. That means I have to add something about that, and about her being in the bathroom or else it will come out choppy. Then she can meet up with the others and they can... wait, there are characters that I have not yet introduced. Then I must introduce them... And so the words pile up and we are left with this chapter. What about Link? We found out nothing!

Oh, and thank you dear reviewers for making my day(s). You are so wonderful and deserve quicker updates! I am so happy to see that there are people who share my pity for Link, and I would gladly help to shoo the evil being away (away, away, I say!). And I would so love for another confrontation between Link and Marth (that will have to be in a future chapter!). Great suggestion. Anyone hating Marth yet?

And I stand by what I've said. Marth and Zelda are just good friends. Well, but very close friends.

Thank you for the reviews and thanks for reading.