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More free beta-reading. Beware fluff.
In case you missed it (or didn't care), chapter one (now slightly revised) was here.
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And so, the Princess of Hyrule became fast friends with the boy from the forest, who surprised her at her window on warm hazy mornings or sun-dappled afternoons, always with a wide smile and that floppy green hat. She would throw down her studies and rush to meet him in the garden, unmindful of Impa's chastisements, because how often did a princess get the chance to trade her courtly inhibitions for childish games and silliness?
Often enough, as it turns out. Zelda's new playmate visited her every few days, and taught her "unladylike" things she had always yearned to learn for herself: how to skip stones and climb trees, and sneak around the patrolling guards without being seen. Link showed her how to whistle on grass blades, and caught tiny slippery fish from the castle moat that made her squeal and giggle as they wriggled in her cupped hands.
In turn, she introduced him to the worlds in her books, and many rainy days were spent in a musty corner of the castle library, with the two children huddled together over an oversized tome. She read out loud her favorite parts for him, the descriptions of ancient magics and legends and scholarly research, and at times he would surprise her by volunteering some obscure detail not even the books had known. When she inquired him further, however, Link would only smile and shrug, and suggest that perhaps it was part of some forgotten forest lore.
On rare occasions they even sneaked out of the castle entirely, he leading the way and peeking around corners, she following close behind, dressed in the plainest clothes she could find from her wardrobe. They would duck behind hedges and scale vine-covered walls, crawling through tight holes that dirtied her knees. And when they finally blended into the milling crowds of Hyrule Castle Town, it was as if a locked door had been flung open wide, and they would spend a whole day darting from the Shooting Gallery (Link always let her go first, though he still out-scored her every time) to Bombchu Bowling (for some reason she had better skill here than he), or munching on delicacies from local vendors until their fingers were sticky with sugar and grease, or simply sitting together by the fountain in the center of the town square, and watching couples waltz by as the sun dipped below the rooftops.
Yet more than just lighthearted diversions, these excursions into town also taught her about life outside the castle, both in common joys and bitter hardships. Zelda always stopped to leave alms for the beggars in the west side of town, and they would save their leftover snacks for the numerous stray dogs that wandered the back alleys. She was yet too small to influence the way her father ruled the kingdom, but the young princess filed these memories away for her future days, just in case. She was certain that if she looked long enough, she would find the proper solution in her books one day. Someday...
Despite having lived at the castle all her life, only now, with Link's influence, did her world come alive with freshly uncovered secrets and delights. A butterfly turned into a fairy when prodded just so; hidden caverns unearthed their entrances only when it rained. Zelda regretted that she could not visit Link's home with the same free abandon, so he brought her tokens from the forest instead: tart juicy berries that stained her fingers purple, strange bugs in a jar, even her very own Kokiri-style tunic, woven from some mysterious form of Deku leaf fiber. (He admitted that the last had not been his own handiwork.)
Sometimes, he would bring her a bright white blossom, with petals unfurled wide like mist from a water spray. It was always a bit wilted from his journey to the castle, but the refreshing sweet scent it emitted lingered long after she preserved the flower between pages of her books.
"It's called a snowflower, and it only grows in one place in the Lost Woods, as far as the Kokiri know," Link had explained, fidgeting a little with his fingers. "It's supposed to stand for faith, and a clear heart. Sometimes we trade it as a sign for a promise, but, um, also it smells nice."
"What are you promising me?" Zelda teased, flashing him a coy look as she raised the flower to her nose. It did indeed smell nice.
He returned her glance with a steady look more serious than her mood expected. "What would you like me to promise?"
She had smiled, and said nothing.
The idle days of summer passed by quickly, and a restless energy seemed to fill the air as cool winds swept away the thick lazy heat. The courts began to bustle with autumn activity, tournaments and festivals demanding the Princess's presence even though she had bored of them ages ago. Zelda found herself tumbling into bed worn-out more often than not, and though she hadn't noticed how or when, her free time for frolicking evaporated as if it, too, were dispersed by the chill breeze.
She sensed, too, a distant preoccupation from Link, and knew that the winds carried away his thoughts as well to foreign lands and far-flung adventures. He no longer visited her as frequently, and sometimes forgot to respond to her words, his eyes distracted by something that lay within her or beyond her or somewhere she couldn't grasp. Zelda held onto his hand a little more often during their strolls over the castle grounds, hoping that she could pull his heart back and keep him here. It only seemed to stifle him more, however, and though he squeezed her hand back as warmly as ever, she knew there was no fighting the will of a young adventurer set into motion.
The wind blew again, and the first leaves of autumn fell.
continued...
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--
And so, the Princess of Hyrule became fast friends with the boy from the forest, who surprised her at her window on warm hazy mornings or sun-dappled afternoons, always with a wide smile and that floppy green hat. She would throw down her studies and rush to meet him in the garden, unmindful of Impa's chastisements, because how often did a princess get the chance to trade her courtly inhibitions for childish games and silliness?
Often enough, as it turns out. Zelda's new playmate visited her every few days, and taught her "unladylike" things she had always yearned to learn for herself: how to skip stones and climb trees, and sneak around the patrolling guards without being seen. Link showed her how to whistle on grass blades, and caught tiny slippery fish from the castle moat that made her squeal and giggle as they wriggled in her cupped hands.
In turn, she introduced him to the worlds in her books, and many rainy days were spent in a musty corner of the castle library, with the two children huddled together over an oversized tome. She read out loud her favorite parts for him, the descriptions of ancient magics and legends and scholarly research, and at times he would surprise her by volunteering some obscure detail not even the books had known. When she inquired him further, however, Link would only smile and shrug, and suggest that perhaps it was part of some forgotten forest lore.
On rare occasions they even sneaked out of the castle entirely, he leading the way and peeking around corners, she following close behind, dressed in the plainest clothes she could find from her wardrobe. They would duck behind hedges and scale vine-covered walls, crawling through tight holes that dirtied her knees. And when they finally blended into the milling crowds of Hyrule Castle Town, it was as if a locked door had been flung open wide, and they would spend a whole day darting from the Shooting Gallery (Link always let her go first, though he still out-scored her every time) to Bombchu Bowling (for some reason she had better skill here than he), or munching on delicacies from local vendors until their fingers were sticky with sugar and grease, or simply sitting together by the fountain in the center of the town square, and watching couples waltz by as the sun dipped below the rooftops.
Yet more than just lighthearted diversions, these excursions into town also taught her about life outside the castle, both in common joys and bitter hardships. Zelda always stopped to leave alms for the beggars in the west side of town, and they would save their leftover snacks for the numerous stray dogs that wandered the back alleys. She was yet too small to influence the way her father ruled the kingdom, but the young princess filed these memories away for her future days, just in case. She was certain that if she looked long enough, she would find the proper solution in her books one day. Someday...
Despite having lived at the castle all her life, only now, with Link's influence, did her world come alive with freshly uncovered secrets and delights. A butterfly turned into a fairy when prodded just so; hidden caverns unearthed their entrances only when it rained. Zelda regretted that she could not visit Link's home with the same free abandon, so he brought her tokens from the forest instead: tart juicy berries that stained her fingers purple, strange bugs in a jar, even her very own Kokiri-style tunic, woven from some mysterious form of Deku leaf fiber. (He admitted that the last had not been his own handiwork.)
Sometimes, he would bring her a bright white blossom, with petals unfurled wide like mist from a water spray. It was always a bit wilted from his journey to the castle, but the refreshing sweet scent it emitted lingered long after she preserved the flower between pages of her books.
"It's called a snowflower, and it only grows in one place in the Lost Woods, as far as the Kokiri know," Link had explained, fidgeting a little with his fingers. "It's supposed to stand for faith, and a clear heart. Sometimes we trade it as a sign for a promise, but, um, also it smells nice."
"What are you promising me?" Zelda teased, flashing him a coy look as she raised the flower to her nose. It did indeed smell nice.
He returned her glance with a steady look more serious than her mood expected. "What would you like me to promise?"
She had smiled, and said nothing.
The idle days of summer passed by quickly, and a restless energy seemed to fill the air as cool winds swept away the thick lazy heat. The courts began to bustle with autumn activity, tournaments and festivals demanding the Princess's presence even though she had bored of them ages ago. Zelda found herself tumbling into bed worn-out more often than not, and though she hadn't noticed how or when, her free time for frolicking evaporated as if it, too, were dispersed by the chill breeze.
She sensed, too, a distant preoccupation from Link, and knew that the winds carried away his thoughts as well to foreign lands and far-flung adventures. He no longer visited her as frequently, and sometimes forgot to respond to her words, his eyes distracted by something that lay within her or beyond her or somewhere she couldn't grasp. Zelda held onto his hand a little more often during their strolls over the castle grounds, hoping that she could pull his heart back and keep him here. It only seemed to stifle him more, however, and though he squeezed her hand back as warmly as ever, she knew there was no fighting the will of a young adventurer set into motion.
The wind blew again, and the first leaves of autumn fell.
continued...
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