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Fine silks and linens swirled around the room. Feathers, gems, crystals, gold, and silver. Dozens of carefully painted masks smiled at him from every side. While some resembled Hylian faces, many more held features like the other tribes of Hyrule or animals that inhabited the wilds. Glittering Zora, silver-beaked Rito, foxes, eagles, ravens, boars. But only one owl.
She danced in the center of the room. Her sixth partner that evening spun her around with such gusto that she almost looked like she would be sick. Silvery feathers graced her long gown, dripping down her sleeves like wings. Gold and silver covered her mask, metallic feathers covering her delicate features. Though she wore no tiara, a select few at the ball knew her true identity: Princess Zelda.
Link, as her appointed knight, had been informed of her chosen mask and so knew to watch for her. He stood on the edge of the dancefloor, keeping a careful eye on the princess as she spun around again. If the orchestra could play something a little slower next time and give the poor girl a break…
His own mask sat awkwardly on his face. Unlike most of the other guests, he couldn’t afford to commission something form-fitting for the masquerade. He hadn’t intended to wear a mask at all, not wanting to impair his field of vision. Recent whisperings of a Yiga threat had the King on edge, and though Link disagreed, the King decided that having Link unmasked would send too alarming of a signal to the other nobles. So, for the sake of the illusion that all was well, Link chose a mask.
That morning, the King had invited him to choose from among several masks that had been left behind over the years. Most were far too extravagant for him. Without having very fine clothes to wear for the ball (he was still permitted to wear the royal guard uniform, as he would not be the only one so dressed), he chose what might be the least offensively fine. A single horn rose from the center of the green-scaled mask, styled after the legends of Farosh. He didn’t think the snout was quite right, but very few adults had ever seen the dragons that floated through the skies, so Link might forgive the inaccuracies.
A tap on his shoulder momentarily drew his attention away from the princess. A white fox smiled at him from beneath her long muzzle. “I haven’t seen you dancing with anyone yet.” Her voice held a slight slur. The scent of champagne reached his nose. “Why is that?”
“I don’t dance.” Link answered curtly, resuming his observation of the princess. A seventh suitor took her by the hand. For Hylia’s sake, let the girl sit down!
The fox would not be deterred. She swayed on her feet, watching the dancers as they began another set. The music swelled again, a tingling of strings in the air. “It’s much easier to dance with a pretty lady if you ask her, rather than staring at her like a creep.”
Link glared at the fox. He tried to search what features of her were visible. Her wig matched her mask, concealing even that piece of her identity. A glint of glass behind the eyes of her mask hinted, at least, that she lacked full vision. That narrowed the identity of this new enemy down to at least four dozen. He bit his tongue. While he would defend himself by stating that he was most definitely not staring at the princess like a creep, he couldn’t risk divulging Zelda’s identity to anyone. Especially not this annoying fox.
The fox snickered, hiding her grin behind a manicured hand. “Then again, you’d just be one creep among many. That guy looks like he’s trying to take some of her feathers home with him.”
Link jerked his head back toward Zelda. Her current partner had one hand firmly around her waist, though his fingers crept slowly downward. Though Link only wore the ceremonial saber of his rank, having left the identifying Master Sword in his room, he still envisioned running that handsy noble through with the blade. The gurgling blood of his death might deter other such suitors in the future.
“Go save her then, hero.” The fox’s voice teased. He felt a push on his back, sending him stumbling forward onto the dancefloor. Though he turned back to snap at the young lady who insisted on embarrassing him, the white fox disappeared into the crowd – leaving him in quite an awkward position.
The dance soon ended. Suitors once again swarmed the elegant ladies, begging for their hands. They reminded him of gulls on a beach, vying and competing for a scrap of bread. And, though he hated himself for it, he had to join the fray if he wanted to keep any other freaks away from the princess. This tomfoolery had gone on long enough, and Zelda was too nice to tell them to back off.
Link was not that nice.
He shoved his way through the crowd, hardly caring how many young nobles he pissed off. A few backed off at the sight of his uniform and sword alone. Good. Maybe it would remind them that this was still the King’s Ball, not a tavern.
“Your H-“ Link started, though quickly caught himself. “Lady Owl, may I have this dance?”
Zelda blinked at him, perhaps taken aback by his guess as to her identity (if she caught his mistake) or by the forcefulness with which he pushed aside an older man dressed as a boar. Her lips parted slightly, glistening with blood-red paint. “You may, Sir Dragon.”
Her gloved hand fit neatly in his.
While Link had not intended to dance tonight, he had prepared for such an occurrence. Several of the older guards agreed to teach him the basics earlier that week. And though Link hesitated to call himself adept at any skills of society, he could understand a dance just fine. Just like forms in sparring, every action had its reaction, every step its counter, and a rhythm to which he must adhere.
Rather than her waist, Link rested his other hand upon the last of her ribs, anchoring his fingers firmly where they would not descend and offend her. If no one else would dance with the princess like she deserved any respect, he would fill that void.
Her gentle hand settled onto his shoulder. The dance began.
Slow, deliberate steps led her across the floor. No extravagance or dips, only spinning when the dance absolutely called for it, and even that he made sure to keep controlled. He also made a point to keep a clear view of the gaps in the crowd – routes out for Zelda in case she wanted a break from the dancing.
“I didn’t expect you to hold me like I’m made of glass,” Zelda remarked, an amused smile on her lips. “Given the way you shoved that duke out of the way.”
Link swallowed hard. A duke?! Hylia above, if the King ever found out… He forced the thought of reprimand from his mind. He’d just have to plead his case to the King later. There were only so many royal guards at this party, and only one wearing a Farosh mask. “My apologies, Princess,” Link replied, intentionally deepening his voice. Not that he thought she’d recognize his natural one. He’d never spoken more than a full sentence to her since meeting her. Really, now that he thought about it, probably less than that. The only thing he’d ever said to her was “Yes, Your Highness” upon her inquiry as to whether he had truly pulled the sword from the pedestal on his own. After that, her gaze turned so icy cold that he didn’t dare to speak again.
Yet, now she spoke to him again. Not that she knew who he was. If she did, she’d probably punch him in the gut for daring to touch her.
She titled her head, a bit like the bird she wore the face of tonight. “You seem to know my identity, guardsman. But I do not know yours.”
That didn’t sound like a question. He spun her around again, letting his hand rest again upon her ribs. The music began to shift into a second movement.
“I could order you to tell me.” Zelda threatened, her green eyes holding steady, searching what she could of his face beneath the dragon mask. Link didn’t think she would recognize him. She didn’t even like looking at him.
Again, not a question. Link remained silent, swaying gently and keeping a close watch on the seething suitors nearby. A few of them had taken other partners in the meantime, ladies whom they treated just as recklessly as they did the princess.
“Very well.” Zelda huffed. “If you won’t tell me your name, at least tell me why you insisted on dancing with me. And that, guardsman, is an order.”
Link’s throat tightened. She’d certainly mock him for it. But an order was an order. “You’re too nice to tell those other men no.” He swallowed hard. “Forgive my boldness, Your Highness. I couldn’t watch you get tossed about all night. You looked miserable.”
Zelda’s eyes widened in shock. For a moment, she remained silent as well. “That is quite bold of you to say, guardsman. What made you think I was miserable?” Another spin. She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for a reply.
Well, Link, you had a good run. When the King has you executed in the morning, he’ll send a nice letter of explanation to your mother. Link’s mouth went dry. He took a breath, trying to complete the sentence in his head before he tripped over the words. “Your smile. It’s fake. When you’re actually happy, you smile with your teeth. The right side of your mouth rises before the left.”
Zelda tensed underneath his hand. “Very… observant of you, guardsman.” She frowned, scrutinizing him from behind metal feathers. “But how do you know when I’m really happy? You’re rather confident in your assessment.”
Link nodded, parting from her for a moment as they walked around another couple, rejoining again. “You’re happy when you get to set aside your training for a few hours. That smile comes out when you speak to Ladies Purah and Impa. When you sit in the library and read science books by the window.”
Her lips thinned, pressed together in thought. “And you thought, perhaps, that you could make me happy by dancing with me?”
“No, Your Highness.” He answered. “I only wanted to give you a break from pretending to be happy.”
Her eyes widened. The music slowed, coming to an end. The guests clapped, showing their appreciation before the next song began.
Link bowed low, then turned on his heel and slinked back into the crowd.
Or rather, he would have, if not for the hand that caught his again.
“Wait a moment, guardsman.” She said, her firm hand holding him in place at the end of the dancefloor.
Link obeyed, though Zelda did not issue another command. Their eyes locked, her emerald green burning straight into his soul. He felt so certain she meant to tell him something else, but no further words passed between them.
Eventually, she released his hand.
Link did not dance any other rounds that night, resuming his post and mission, dutifully watching the Princess. He watched her as she turned down suitors, took the hand of the white fox (whose streak of red and white hair fell loose by the end of evening), drank champagne, and only danced with those she chose to. It wasn’t a full rebellion by any means. In the morning, she would be obedient and quiet once again. She would speak in a small voice to her father, saving her frustrated shouts for Link. But, when he caught her eye again across the ballroom several times later that night, the right side of her mouth rose before the left.