Ralph always considered Nayru’s hut to be cozy.  Perhaps it was the fireplace.  When a log sat ablaze, as it did now, the light of the flames would reflect off the finish of the wooden walls, giving the entire room a sort of golden glow.  It reminded Ralph of the light in a library or temple.  Still, as he sat in front of the fireplace, watching Nayru’s face across the table, the cozy, safe feeling evaporated from his spine.

            He knew something was wrong the moment she sent the note, inviting him to tea.  She never invited him to tea; that was an activity strictly reserved for her female friends.  At first, Ralph had simply chalked it up to her ongoing recovery after the whole Veran incident.  She was still afraid, he told himself as he walked down the road to her hut, she was simply nervous and needed his company, she needed him to comfort her.  Who’d want to be alone after such a trauma?  But now, as he looked at her, he knew that Nayru, as always, was anything but afraid.

            “You look troubled,” she said, running her finger around the rim of her porcelain tea cup.

            “I’m not,” he lied.  Immediately, he knew that was a mistake.

            “Tell the truth,” she insisted.

            Ralph frowned.  “I’ve been thinking about…everything.  Veran.  The Oracle from Holodrum.  The Twinrova creature.”  It wasn’t entirely a lie.  Ralph had spent a great deal of time thinking about the whole incident.

            Nayru seemed to accept this for an answer.  She nodded vaguely, taking a sip of her cold tea.  “So have I.”

            He attempted a chuckle.  “It’s sort of hard to forget, isn’t it?”  He waited for Nayru to respond, but all she did was nod, keeping the cup to her lips.  “I wonder where Link is now.”

            “With any luck,” Nayru replied, setting her tea down, “he’s already gotten back home.”

            “Do you suppose we’ll ever see him again?”

            She shrugged.  “Who can say?”

            “I’d certainly like to meet him again.”

            “He didn’t like you very much.”

            Inwardly, Ralph cringed.  He hated it when Nayru did that.  She had a certain, blunt way of speaking, one she generally reserved strictly for him.  “We didn’t meet under the best of circumstances,” he answered.

            “That much is true,” Nayru agreed.  When Ralph looked up at her heart shaped face, he could see traces of a smile.  “Listen, Ralph…”

            This time, Ralph cringed outwardly.  He knew all too well what that tone of voice meant.  Whenever Nayru started a sentence with ‘Listen, Ralph…’ he knew it meant that she was going to ask him for a favor.  Ralph wasn’t stingy with his favors, of course, but he wasn’t exactly looking forward to what this one would be.  After all, he had arrived with the feeling that something was seriously wrong.  For all he knew, this was going to be it.

            “Listen, Ralph…I’ve been doing a lot of research on this Twinrova creature.  It…she…is something serious.”

            “I think we established that when she…it…tried to resurrect the ancient Hylian pig-monster.”

            “Don’t be glib.”

            “Sorry.”  And he meant that.

            Nayru sighed.  “What I mean is…Twinrova is a truly ancient evil.  References to it or her go back thousands of years.”

            “Well, I thought she looked a bit worn around the eyes.”

            Apparently, Nayru wasn’t in the mood for levity.  She continued on.  “Ancient evils, they don’t stay away.”

            “Link killed her.”

            “No.  He just defeated her.  Real evil can’t be killed.  It can only be defeated temporarily.”

            “What are you saying?  Are you afraid that she…it…is going to come back again?”

            “It’s inevitable.”

            “Then?”

            “Inevitable, but…”

            “But what?”

            Nayru licked her lips, focusing intently on a spot on the wall, somewhere over Ralph’s right shoulder.  “It can be delayed.”

            “Delayed?  How?”

            “There’s a ritual.  Din was telling me about it.  It involves using three ancient artifacts.”

            “Which are?”

            “The Harp of Ages.”

            “That’s yours.”

            “The Rod of Seasons.”

            “Din.”

            She paused a moment before continuing.  “And the Amulet of Secrets.”

            “The what of the who?”

            This time, Nayru laughed a little bit.  “The Amulet of Secrets.”

            “Never heard of it.”

            “Not surprising,” Nayru sighed.  “Few people have.”

            “Why?”

            “According to the texts I’ve been looking at, it was stolen decades ago by Derrial Kotay.”

            “Derrial Kotay,” Ralph repeated, turning the name over in his mind.  “That sounds familiar.”

            “He was king of Galaxia in our grandparents’ time.”

            Ralph snapped his fingers, recognition coming to him in a flash.  “Didn’t his son just die?”

            Nayru nodded.  “His grandson is about to take the throne.”

            “Do you think the Amulet is still there?”

            “I’m sure it is,” Nayru replied.  She ran a hand through her hair, watching her friend across the table.  “Which is why I called on you this morning.”

            It took a few moments for the realization to hit Ralph.  He stared blankly at Nayru, her words not yet penetrating his consciousness.  When they finally managed to break through, he blinked his green eyes feeling quite certain he had misheard her.  “I’m sorry?”

            “Ralph,” Nayru said gently, reaching across the table and putting her hand firmly on of both of his, folded on top.  “I need you to do this for me.”

            “I’m sorry, I must be going crazy,” Ralph said sharply, pulling his hands out from under hers.  “Because I could have sworn you just asked me to steal a priceless artifact from royalty.”

            “Ralph, this is our one shot to seal Twinrova out of the realm.  I have to try and do this.”

            “Great,” he said, standing abruptly.  “You can go to Galaxia and explain it to Derrial’s grandson.  I’m sure he’ll be happy to lend you the Amulet.”

            Nayru stood as well.  “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?  He’d have me thrown in the dungeon for sounding like a crazy person!”

            “And I’m sure I won’t get thrown in the dungeon for getting caught stealing from the treasury.”

            “No, not stealing.”

            “What would you call it?”

            “Borrowing.”

            He stared at her.  Nayru’s eyes were filled with earnest as she looked up at him.  Taking a deep breath, he allowed a small smile to appear.  “I must be crazy.”

            “Oh, Ralph!”  She ran past the table and threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging the life out of him.

            Ralph patted her back gently for a moment before pulling out of the embrace.  “But I can’t promise anything.  Larceny isn’t my thing.”

            “I just know you’ll manage.”

            “You have too much confidence in me, Nayru.  I’m not a thief.”

            “Thieves can’t be trusted.  I trust you.”

            “I’ll do what I can.”

            “Thank you, Ralph.”

            He raked his fingers through his bright red hair.  “How am I going to get to the treasury?”

            “The castle is going to be bustling with business,” Nayru said excitedly.  She rushed over to her dresser and pulled the top draw open, removing a scroll.  “Derrial’s grandson, Prince Fiyero, needs to select a bride before he can become king.”  She handed the scroll to Ralph.  “All sorts of dignitaries will be attending; you’ll be able to blend in easily.”

            Ralph unrolled the parchment.  On the top was a royal seal.  His eyes danced back and forth as he read the fancy script, written in purple ink.  “By order of High Minister Lachesis Ibsen –”

            “She’s Prince Fiyero’s top advisor,” Nayru interjected.

            “By order of High Minister Lachesis Ibsen,” Ralph pressed forward, “a ball will be held in honor of Fiyero of the Cilissa Clan, son of Aeschylus, son of Derrial, son of…” Ralph skipped forward quite a bit, “so that his majesty may select among the eligible princesses of the realm, a bride to be queen of Galaxia.”  He stopped, looking up at Nayru.

            “You see?  The place will be packed.”

            “Yes,” Ralph agreed, “with extra security to protect all the princesses.”

            “Ralph,” Nayru said softly, touching his arm.  “I need you to do this for me.  It’s the only way.”

            “I’ll keep my word,” Ralph assured her.

            “Thank you.”

            “I’ll get your Amulet.  But I’m not going to be able to do it on my own.  I’m going to need help.”

 

            If he could have had his heart’s desire, anything in the entire universe, all Link would have wished for was the chance to return to Hyrule.  He had been away for so long now, that he was beginning to fear he had forgotten what it smelled like to be home.  It wasn’t for lack of trying either, that he had somehow continually failed to reach his native shores.  First there had been Holodrum and then Labrynna.  After that, Link had been certain he was done, but, fate just kept stepping in to prevent his triumphant return.  This time, fate was in the form of the Ruathan court.

            Making eye contact with Link, the page standing near the grand doorway to the throne room pulled back on the iron handle.  A small procession walked in.  Leading the pack was the captain of the guard.  Following closely behind him were two more knights, holding, in between them, a gangly, spry fellow with feathery tufts of brown hair.  He was dressed in rags, his wrists held by iron shackles.  Though he didn’t struggle as the guards led him down the carpet to the throne dais, he made no attempts to mask the nasty glares he was sending Link’s way.

            Link couldn’t really blame the fellow.  He had been responsible for his arrest.  Still, as Link stood there on the dais, beside the throne, he felt a twinge of doubt.  What if his suspicions were wrong?  He glanced uneasily at the old man sitting in the throne.  The fellow nodded in his direction.  Steeling himself for whatever was to come, Link stepped down, off of the dais, and addressed the prisoner.

            “You were caught lighting fire to the village well in the town of Arden,” Link told him calmly.

            The prisoner lifted his chin to a fierce angle.  “That’s right!” he said proudly, giving the guards holding him a smug grin.

            “You claim that King Corbel paid you to stir up trouble,” Link continued, gesturing to the throne.

            “Yeah,” the prisoner said fiercely.

            The Captain of the guard grabbed a handful of the prisoner’s hair.  “Is this the man that hired you?” he growled, turning the skinny man’s face in the direction of the throne.

            “That’s him, King Corbel!”

            “I’ve heard enough.”

            From behind the throne platform, the hanging red curtains parted.  A powerfully built Human stepped out from behind them, walking up onto the dais.  He had broad shoulders, but everything else about him seemed quite compact.  His hair was dark black, graying slightly at the temples; his goatee was also brushed with silver, although he looked in no way feeble.  As the newcomer made his way to the throne, the old man sitting in it stood up abruptly, removing the crown from his head and handing it to the real King Corbel.

            The prisoner’s mouth gaped open, revealing his bright yellow teeth.  “But…but…”

            “It looks like you don’t know your own employer very well,” Link muttered coolly.

            “Take him away!” the captain of the guard barked to his men who promptly spirited the confused prisoner out of the room.  The captain remained, turning to look at Link.  “It worked.”

            “An old classic,” Link replied proudly, climbing back up the steps of the throne platform.

            “Indeed,” King Corbel grumbled, sitting down in his throne.  “Pay this man,” he added, gesturing to the imposer who had inhabited the seat a few moments ago.

            “This way please,” the captain said, escorting the old man out of the room.

            King Corbel turned to look at Link.  While he never smiled, Link could tell that he was pleased.  His eyes seemed a bit less beady than usual.  “Another trouble maker from Galaxia exposed.  You have my thanks, Link.”

            Link bowed slightly.  “I just don’t like trouble.”

            “I’m afraid it’s been increasing ever since King Aeschylus died,” Corbel muttered, bridging his fingers.  “Prince Fiyero has made his intentions about Ruatha perfectly clear.”

            “That doesn’t make any sense,” Link said.

            “Why do you say that?”

            “Galaxia is too far away from Ruatha.  Why would he want this land?  He wouldn’t be able to control it.”

            “He could control it indirectly, assuming he were actually capable of taking the city,” Corbel said.

            “How?”

            “Oh, many ways.  He could appoint a governor from his own staff.  He could impose military rule.  He could leave Galaxia in the hands of his advisors and oversee Ruatha personally.”

            “I’m still not convinced he wants to declare war,” Link said.

            “Legally, he cannot declare war until he’s officially named king,” Corbel explained.

            “And?”

            “And until that time, all he can do is stir up trouble on a local scale.  Lighting fires to wells and such.”

            “What do you plan to do?”

            Corbel sighed, leaning back in his throne.  “The way I see it, I have several options.  I can ignore it.”

            “Which could only lead to more trouble.”

            “I can attempt to arrange some kind of treaty.”

            “Which would make you look like you were surrendering.”

            “Or,” Corbel paused, scowling.  “I can beat him to the quick and declare war on him first.”

            Link blinked in surprise.  “You’re not seriously considering…”

            “It appears to be the only avenue at the moment.  I’ll admit, I’ve been trying to put off the decision as long as possible, but I’m running out of village wells.”

            “King Corbel…”

            Corbel waved a meaty hand, dismissing Link before he could continue.  “I know what you’re going to say.”

            “You do?”

            “You’re going to tell me that war isn’t the answer.”

            “Well…”

            “That fighting never solved any thing.”

            “I…”

            “And that all our problems can be worked out if we just talk to one another like civilized adults.”

            “Do I really sound like that?”

            “Yes, you do.  Which I might add, is a bit hypocritical considering all of your famous exploits against monsters and fiends.”

            “Monsters and fiends don’t sit down like civilized people and talk.  Some of them don’t even have mouths.”

            “Link, I don’t like the idea of war any more than you do.  It’s expensive, messy, and a big waste of time in the end.  However, I’m a rapidly losing patience with these Galaxians.”

            “Send someone to talk to them.”

            “If I send someone,” Corbel answered, “it’s very likely they’ll be killed on the spot.”

            “There must be some way to delay this, even if for a short period of time.  This isn’t worth a war.”

            “I’ll tell you what I’ll do.  I’ll make an accord with you.”

            Link scrunched up his face, looking a bit confused.  “What do you mean?”

            “Go to Galaxia on Ruatha’s behalf.”

            “But didn’t you just say that –”

“They won’t kill you.  You’re a third party.  The Hylians are neutral.”

            “What will I do there?”

            “Appeal to their better natures.  Give them the inspirational speeches you’re always sharing with me.  Try and convince them to cease hostilities before things get out of hand.”

            Link sighed heavily.  “All right.”

            “I’ll give you until Fiyero attains the title of king.  If, when he ascends, he declares war, then I’ll be done with talking.”

            “That’s fair,” Link told him.

            “In your talks, remember, Ruatha will cede nothing, but we will not make any demands.  All we want is to return to peace.”

            “I’ll do what I can.”

            “Go, gather your belongings.  I’ll have my attendants prepare a coach to take you across the terrain.  My swiftest horses will get you to Galaxia in two days.”

            “Thank you, your majesty,” Link said, bowing again.  “But I think I can travel faster on my own.”

            “Ah yes, your Hylian parlor tricks.  I’d forgotten.  Well, best of luck to you then.  Thank you for all your help.”

            “And thank you for this opportunity.”

            King Corbel nodded.  Link knew the gesture.  It meant the conversation was over.  Even if Link had had anything else to say, it wouldn’t have been heard.  Turning on heel, Link trotted down the steps of the throne platform and passed through the throne room, going out the far entrance.  He wasn’t sure how to feel at this moment.  On the one hand, he had gotten his way and delayed the war, at least for awhile.  On the other hand, as he thought about it, he realized that Hyrule was farther away now.  A sigh managed to escape his lips.  He would never get home at this rate.

 

            “Maple!”         

Maple was sitting on the windowsill.  It was a funny thing to call the ledge.  There wasn’t actually a window.  That had been boarded up years ago after an unfortunate vacuuming accident.  Nevertheless, everyone still called it the windowsill.  Now, Maple sat there, flipping absently through the book on her lap.  She should have been studying her spells, but for some reason, she felt a bit distracted.

“Maple!”

She leaned her back against the wall, running a hand through her knotty hair.  In all her life, Maple could not remember a time when she successfully got her fingers all the way through.  They would always catch on something gnarl or tangle.  She had her genetics to blame for that.  Both her mother and grandmother had curly hair.  Maple’s hair wasn’t curly.  It was wavy and, from lack of proper maintenance, a bit of a mess to be honest.

“Maple!”

The words on the page were getting wavy now.  They danced in front of Maple’s eyes but said nothing to her.  Chewing on the tips of her hair, she ran a finger across the ink.  She could feel the indentations from the ancient quills that had originally written the words.  Secretly, that was Maple’s favorite thing about the spell books.  She loved the history behind the words.  Sometimes, late at night, Maple would lay awake, making up stories about the long gone witches.  It was rare that she was allowed to look at the history books, so she came up with her own names for these characters.

“Maple!”

The book went flying out of Maple’s hands and she looked up to be greeted by a cross look from her grandmother, standing over her.  “What is it?” Maple asked, fighting to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“I’ve been calling you for two minutes,” the old woman answered in her cracked voice, which, in all honesty, reminded Maple far too much of a frog.

“What do you want?”

“There’s someone at the door.”

“So?”

“So!  Answer it!”

“Why can’t you?”  As Maple sat there, she could now hear the persistent knocking of someone at the door.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon.  You know what the sunlight does to my cataracts.”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“Now go answer the door.”

Maple hefted herself off the ledge, walking in the direction her grandmother pointed insistently.  She passed the family tapestry, the only remaining artifact of any value from the old country which her grandmother had managed to salvage years ago.  This was Maple’s favorite thing in the house, hands down.  She didn’t recognize any of the names on the family tree, but she loved to make stories about them.  Her favorite name was Orestes Fleance and although she had no idea who he really was or where he came from, she could see him perfectly in her mind’s eye.

The incessant knocking continued.  “Coming!” Maple shouted, racing to the door.  “All right already!”

She pulled open the door to find Ralph on the other side, his fist poised to knock again.  Their eyes locked and suddenly the rest of the world seemed to deteriorate into the recesses of Maple’s mind.  Hungrily, she drank in the sight of the handsome gentleman, his piercing green eyes, that flaming red hair which would absolutely never lie flat.  He looked better than the last time they had met, lost a little weight, put on some muscles.  Her jaw slowly dropped.  Neither of them could conjure up the words to say, all intelligible speech vanished as the two of them stared.

“Ralph…”  Maple slammed the door in his face, but Ralph was quicker, throwing his arms out to catch the door just before it could latch.

“Maple!” he yelped.  She pressed on the door, trying to slam it shut despite the fact that Ralph’s fingers were inconveniently in the way.  After another attempt, she turned on heel and stalked away.  Ralph pushed the door open, following her inside.  “Something tells me you’re not glad to see me.”

“Gee,” she snapped, whirling around to face him.  “I just thought I’d never see you again.”

“You’re mad at me,” Ralph said, stepping forward.  Maple grabbed a broom resting in the corner of the entryway, pointing the handle directly at his chest.  He held up his hands quickly.  “I understand, I understand!”

“Why are you here?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Ralph frowned.  “The truth is I’ve spent the last couple of months feeling really bad about the way things ended between us.”

“You’ve got no one to blame but yourself.  Get out!”

“Let me finish!”  Ralph allowed his arms to drop slowly.  “I’ve been trying to think of a way to make it up to you.”

The handle of the broom dropped.  Maple regarded him in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time before responding in a quiet voice.   “Oh yeah?”

“Maple, I have a proposal for you.”

By this point, the broom was dropped to the floor.  Maple’s eyes grew a little wider and she took a step in his direction.  “Yeah?”

“How would you like to be a princess?”

Maple blinked.  “A princess?”

“Listen,” Ralph reached forward and took Maple’s shoulders, “the prince of Galaxia is throwing a ball.  He can’t be king until he has a queen or something like that.  Anyway, everyone who’s anyone is going to be there.  And I want to take you.”  Ralph reached into his cloak and pulled out a scroll of parchment.  He unfurled it.  “Right here, listen –”

She snatched the scroll out of his hand.  “Princess!”  She jabbed the parchment on the word.  “Princess!  I’m not a princess!”

“I know!” Ralph said, quickly taking a step out of her reach.  “Not yet anyway.”

“Yet!”

“Maple, please hear me out.”

“No, no, no!  A thousand times no!”

“That was only three times.  Unless my math is dodgy.”

Angrily, she hurled the scroll back at him.  “I don’t have time for this.”

“You’d get a castle,” Ralph pressed on.  “A beautiful, big castle.  You could move your grandmother out of this dump.”

“This dump is our home!” Maple snapped.  She leaned over and picked up the broom, sweeping the floor angrily though, as always, it was clean enough to eat off of, truth be told.

“I know!  I know!  I didn’t mean it to sound like that.  But think of it Maple, you could improve your life so much.”

“Why are you doing this anyway?”

“I just want to see you happy,” Ralph told her.  “And you could be so very happy in a castle.  How much happier could you be than living the life of royalty?  Don’t you see?  That’s my reward, your happiness.  That and accomplishing a minor errand for Nayru.”

“It’s deception.”

“It’s role play.”  Snorting, Maple turned to walk away.  Ralph watched her as she passed the family tapestry.  “Think of it as making up a story.”  That got Maple to stop.  Ralph made his way over to her, his speech picking up momentum.  “You can come up with all sorts of valiant tales about your own fake ancestors.  This is the chance of a lifetime.”

“But no one is going to believe that I’m a princess,” Maple said softly, still facing away.  “Princesses have tutors and advisors and stuff.”

“You don’t have to be intelligent.  You just have to pretend you are.”

She circled around, glaring at him.  “That isn’t funny.”

“Sorry!”

“This just isn’t going to work.”

“But you’ll have me.”

Maple folded her arms across her chest.  “What?”

“You don’t need tutors or advisors.  I’ll teach you everything you’ll need to know.  I’ll be right at your side every step of the way.”

Her resolution began to crack.  “Every step?”

“I promise.  I’ll be at your side.”  Maple allowed her arms to drop.  “And we’ll start right now.  We’ll have to get you all new clothing.”

She looked down at her plain lilac shift.  “What’s wrong with my clothing?”

“Well, it’s not…” Ralph fumbled, afraid to offend her again.  “It’s not very princess-like.”

“Oh.”

“Take off your hat.”  Maple obeyed, tossing her old floppy hat down to the floor.  Her dark hair, a gnarled and tangled mass, fell about her shoulders.  “Oh, this is going to take a lot of work.  But we can do it, we can do it.”

“And just where am I supposed to get fancy dresses and hair care products?” she asked, planting a hand on her hip.

“Leave that to me,” Ralph replied.  “We’ll set off for Galaxia first thing in the morning.  We should arrive by the afternoon.  For the next twelve hours, I want you to focus on improving your posture.”

“What’s wrong with my posture?”

“It’s just not ladylike.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Well…”  Ralph cautiously approached her, holding his hands out.  Gently, he pressed his right hand into the small of her back, putting his left hand on her shoulder and pulling her into a ramrod straight stance. 

Maple watched him as he worked, adjusting her position with his hands.  They felt warm and familiar and although she stared at him, in her mind their all too brief romance replayed before her eyes.  She remembered the way he had courted her, he would always sneak little trinkets into her pockets when she wasn’t paying attention.  Although she didn’t dare tell anyone, she kept every last one in a big box underneath her bed.

“And there you are,” Ralph said, pulling his hands away.

Blinking rapidly, Maple revived herself from the reverie.  “Yeah…here I am.”  She was secretly glad to be back in Ralph’s arms, even if this was a little bit different than last time.

 

Attention in the Galaxian throne room was always focused on one single thing.  Prince Fiyero’s nose.  To be certain, he was an extremely handsome man with golden brown skin, stretched taut over impressive, but not overpowering, muscles.  His eyes were hazel and the whites were perfectly white.  He wore his hair in long, skinny dreadlocks, going down over his shoulders and halfway to his tight rump.  A little goatee ran over his chiseled jaw.  Yet, it was his nose, of all things, that made it absolutely clear he was royalty.  His nose was perfect, utterly sublime.  He tilted it upward at a very slight angle, high enough to make sure everyone knew he was top dog, but not so high as to appear snobbish.

For the briefest of moments, when Lachesis walked into the throne room, marching down the central aisle with determined purpose, the focus in the room shifted from Prince Fiyero’s nose, but it quickly returned to its rightful place as Lachesis, in her typical hurry, was acknowledged.  Lachesis knew the routine well enough.  At the foot of the throne, she bowed before daring to look up, fixing her own gaze on Fiyero’s perfect nose.

“Your majesty,” she mumbled.

“Good morning, Lachesis,” Fiyero greeted her pleasantly.  He had a soothing, silky voice, nearly perfect, but not as perfect as his nose.

“There’s a young man outside who wishes to hold an audience with you,” Lachesis told him.

“Who is he?”

“He calls himself Link of Hyrule.”

Fiyero’s eyebrows shot up.  “The Hero of Holodrum?  Here?”

“Yes,” Lachesis replied with a nod.  She pushed a long, black curtain of hair over her shoulder.  “Shall I send him away?  Today is an important day; I would hate to have you distracted.”

“How often am I visited by Hylians?  Send him in, please.”

“As you wish,” she sighed, gesturing to a knight by the door.  Immediately, the knight marched out of the throne room with the loud clank of ceremonial armor.  Everyone in the castle hated special occasions because it meant the knights had to wear their armor.  Those with sensitive ears tended to choose such days for a holiday.

“I wonder what a Hylian could possibly be doing here,” Fiyero said in sotto to his high minister.

“We shall soon find out,” Lachesis muttered absently.  “And I do hope he’s brief.  The guests will be arriving within an hour.”

“The Hylian is a guest of my kingdom just as much as all the princesses you’ve invited,” Fiyero told her.  “I won’t have him treated in any way inferior.”

“Of course, sire.”

“Ah, here he comes now.”

The clanking of armor returned along with the knight who once again took up post near the door.  Behind him, Link entered the throne room.  He seemed a bit dazed, uncertain of what he was supposed to be doing.  The knight who had escorted him in gently prodded his back, directing him down the center aisle to where Fiyero and Lachesis watched.  When Link arrived, he bowed.  Lachesis cleared her throat delicately.  “Prince Fiyero of the Cilissa Clan, son of Aeschylus, son of Derrial, I present Link, our Hylian guest.”

“Your majesty,” Link said politely.

“Rise,” Fiyero told him.  As Link obeyed, Fiyero rose from his throne.  He was an imposing figure, nearly six feet tall.  His dress this morning didn’t make him less so.  Prince Fiyero wore a tunic of chain mail and leather pants.  Over this was a long leather coat, sleeveless, going down to Fiyero’s impressive calves.  He extended an arm out in Link’s direction.  “Welcome to Galaxia,” he said as Link clasped his wrist around his leather gauntlet.  They exchanged a warrior’s handshake, though Fiyero, all things told, had never fought in a war to date.  “You’ve come a long way.”

“Yes, I have,” Link agreed, releasing Fiyero’s wrist and taking a small step back away from the platform.

“What brings you to my kingdom?” Fiyero asked.

“I come on behalf of King Corbel.”

Lachesis clapped her hands twice.  “Seize him,” she barked to the guards by the door.

The guards started to walk forward, but Fiyero held up a hand.  “Belay that order.”

“Sire,” Lachesis hissed, “he’s here on behalf of the Ruathan king!”

“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, Lachesis.”

“He’s here to cause trouble.”

“I am not!” Link sniffed defensively.

“You hear that?” Fiyero said with a smirk, jerking his head in Link’s direction.  “He is not.”

“The Ruathans have been causing us nothing but trouble for the last two and a half years,” Lachesis snipped.  “Do you remember what they did to the village well in Saroyan?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“So kill him!”

“I am not about to kill him.  He’s a Hylian, obviously he has no profit in the hostilities between Galaxia and Ruatha.”

“That’s right!” Link declared.

“Then why are you here on behalf of the Ruathan king?” Lachesis snapped back at him.

Ignoring Lachesis, Link turned to address Fiyero.  “King Corbel has sent me to speak with you about ending the hostilities.”

“Ruatha is surrendering?” Lachesis asked in disbelief.

“No,” Link replied quickly.  “They just want peace.”

“You cannot surrender without a declaration of war, Lachesis,” Fiyero added gently.

“King Corbel has no desire for war,” Link said earnestly.  He glanced at Fiyero.  “And my guess is that your heart isn’t in it either.  Think of the cost.  War is a messy business and you’d lose hundreds of your people, perhaps even thousands.  I know that in your heart, what you want is peace too.”

“You’re right.”

It took Link a moment to register what Fiyero had just said.  “I’m sorry?  What did you say?”

“I said, you’re right.  I have no desire for war with Ruatha.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“But I thought that –”

“Your majesty,” Lachesis hissed.  “Saroyan.  Revenge must be taken.  Retribution cries out for Ruathan blood.”

Fiyero was about to reply when a crash of armor interrupted him.  A new knight looked in on the room.  “Your majesty,” he called, his voice muffled underneath the visor of his helmet, “Princess Aislinn of Shaldani has just arrived.”

“Already?” Lachesis yelped.

Sighing heavily, Fiyero made a dismissive gesture.  “Escort her in, at her leisure,” he instructed the knight.  As the clunky knight departed, Fiyero gave Link an apologetic look.  “A royal ball is being held so that I may pick my queen from the eligible princesses of the realm,” he explained.

“My timing is off, I see,” Link muttered.

“No, no, not at all.  I invite you to join in the festivities, Link.”

“Your majesty, I really must object!” Lachesis blurted.

“Put it in writing,” Fiyero told her dismissively.  He never took his eyes off of Link.  “Do you have the proper attire?”

Link looked down at his green tunic.  “This is all I ever wear.”

“Well, you must be sick of it.  I’ll have some seamstresses bring you a selection for the ball.”

“Thank you very much, your highness.”

“I should be the one thanking you.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s not every day we have a Hylian visiting court,” Fiyero told him pleasantly.  “And you bring excellent tidings of peace.”

“That is all King Corbel wants.  Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Good.  Guard!”  A knight approached halfway to the throne.  “Please escort Link to the castle steward and then to guest quarters.  Then see to the seamstresses.”

“Yes, your majesty,” the knight replied before addressing Link.  “This way please.”

Together, the two of them exited the throne room with the usual raucous crashing of armor.  “I don’t trust him, your majesty,” Lachesis whispered as she watched them disappear.

“I know you don’t,” Fiyero replied.

“He’s allied with Ruatha.  He could be trouble.”

“He might be, but then again, he might be exactly what he claims to be.  A doorway to peace.”

“Are you certain peace is what you want given the crimes of the Ruathans?” Lachesis asked.

“What is war but a crime on a grand scale?”

 

“Are you sure this is the way princesses wear their hair?” Maple asked yet again, awkwardly touching the foot high turban wrapped on the top of her head.

“When they’re traveling, yes,” Ralph replied with a sigh, sounding a little bit annoyed.  “Besides, we need to keep your hair hidden until that cream takes full effect on it.”

“What’s it going to look like when it’s done?”

“Hopefully the opposite of a beehive.”

“Hey!”

They had been on the road all morning, traveling in a hired coach that Maple couldn’t figure out how Ralph had managed to pay for.  The curtains were drawn tightly shut and they sat on opposite couches.  Maple felt absolutely ridiculous.  Ralph had her dressed up in the most absurd and elaborate get up she had ever laid eyes on.  Aside from the turban, wrapped of pink silk with a blue trim, she wore a blue riding cloak.  Ralph had instructed her to keep it tightly buttoned, as the dress underneath it, a parsley green gown with empire waistline, didn’t match.

“Say the line again.”

“Do I have to?”

“Say it.”

Maple sighed, rolling her eyes.  “The new nymph had never before met a nicer neighbor.  Like I’m ever going to use that in a conversation.”

“It’s just a drill.  The point is to improve your diction.”

“What’s wrong with my diction?”

“Well, it’s just not very princess-like.”

“That’s starting to annoy me.”

“And another thing, while we’re at it.  You need to stop rolling your eyes.  I don’t mind it, of course, but royalty will take issue with it.”

“Can’t we make up my royal lineage now?” she asked, eager to create a story for herself.

“Maple, no one is going to ask you for your lineage.”

“I’m beginning to think I won’t like this,” she muttered.  “You can’t dress like you want, you can’t talk like you want, and you can’t roll your eyes when someone is being incredibly stupid.”  She put emphasis on ‘stupid’ while looking at Ralph.

“Maple…”

“Why can’t I just be myself, Ralph?”

“Well…you can be,” Ralph said, his eyes racing with thought.  “In fact, you should be.  Just, like every other woman, wait until you get married before you start doing that.”

“Married!  Don’t you dare rush me into that!”  The carriage bounced over a rock in the road and Maple fell over to her side.  She sat up again, gesturing angrily, “I’m not going to marry someone I don’t love!”

“Stop flailing,” Ralph cried urgently.  “Your dress will come unlaced.”

“You didn’t lace it properly,” Maple sneered.

“Well, I’m sorry.  I’m better at unlacing them!”

Maple sighed, resting her head against the wall of the carriage.  “What if this guy turns out to be awful?  I’ve known a few horrible men, you know.”

“Well, give him a chance,” Ralph urged her.  “He has quite the reputation.  He’s young, rich, and possibly even better looking than me.”  He paused to consider it.  “Well, maybe not that last part.”

“A practical match,” Maple muttered, fingering the turban which miraculously stayed intact.  “You’re always practical, aren’t you?”

“Always.”

“You know…being practical all the time isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged.  “What about love?  You can’t be practical in love.”

“I think we should get back to your lessons,” Ralph said quickly.

“All right, all right.”  Maple frowned.  “Maybe you should instruct me on current events a little bit.”

“Why?”

“Well, what am I going to talk about with this prince?”

Ralph chuckled.  “Talk about?  Oh Maple, he doesn’t expect you to talk about current events.”

“Well?”

“Just talk about him.  He’s a man.  Men always think they’re the most important topic of conversation.”

“I suppose you would know,” she said hotly.

“In my case, it’s justified.”

Maple did not look amused.  “You’re not helping.”

“Well, you don’t really have to say anything at all,” Ralph continued.  “Just smile a lot and bat your eyelashes.”

“That’s it!” Maple declared.  She stood up and started banging on the roof of the coach.  “I want out, let me out!” 

The carriage hit another bump and Maple lost her balance.  She toppled forward, crashing into Ralph who just managed to catch her.  They locked eyes, their heads bobbing slightly with the sway of the road.  Ralph needed a moment to swallow.  He wetted his lips, trying to right Maple again.  “That was a little obvious.  Throwing yourself at a prince is never a good idea.”

Maple snarled.  “I quit!”

By this point, the carriage had slowed to a stop.  “Quit?  You can’t quit.  Not after all the work I’ve done.”

“All the work you’ve done?”  Maple stared at him disbelievingly.  “All the work you’ve done?”

“Yes, all the work I’ve done,” he replied.

“I’m sorry, are you the one being forced to wear stupid costumes?  Are you the one being handled like a rag doll because your posture isn’t good enough?  Are you the one whose diction isn’t good enough?”

“Now Maple, calm down!”

“I detest you!”

Ralph blinked in surprise.  “What?”

“I detest you.”

“Maple, you just said detest.”

“So?”

“So!  It was absolutely perfect!”

She was caught so off guard that she completely forgot to be angry.  “What?”

“Detest.  That’s excellent diction, that’s wonderful!”

“It is?”

“You brilliant princess, you!” Ralph was laughing joyfully.  “She detests me!  She detests me!”

Maple was soon caught up in his excitement.  “I did it?  I really did it?”

“You did it!”  He knocked against the wall of the carriage.  “Driver, onward.  We have a ball to get to.”

The carriage started moving again.  “Was I really perfect?”

“Absolutely,” Ralph told her in a tender voice, leaning forward to take her hand. 

“I’ve never seen you so excited before,” Maple murmured, looking down at their hands.

Ralph stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.  He leaned forward slightly, gazing into Maple’s eyes.  “Only one thing left to do,” he said.

She leaned in, unable to tear her gaze away from him.  “Yes?” she said softly, bringing her face closer to his.

“A name.”

“What?”

He sat back up straight, releasing her hand.  “We need to think up a name for you.”

“A name.”

“Yes, you don’t hear about many princesses named Maple.”

“I guess not,” Maple said, slumping back against her seat.
            “Sit up straight.”

“Sorry.”  Maple sat up straight.

“We’ll need to come up with a kingdom for you too.”

“Right.”

“Now, let me think.  What can we borrow?  Princess Aislinn of Shaldani?  No, who in their right mind would travel from Shaldani all the way to Galaxia?”

The rest of the carriage ride consisted of Ralph trying out names and rejecting them.  Maple watched him sullenly, not saying much of anything.  She wondered about this prince she was going to meet.  What would he be like?  Normally, when Maple wondered about a person, she would make up a little story that would set her heart at rest, but she couldn’t do that with Fiyero.  She knew she’d be meeting him soon enough and she didn’t want her expectations to be crushed.  Not again.

 

When there was a knock at her door, Phillia didn’t want to answer.  She sat frozen on the foot of her bed, staring at the wall, watching the shadows the afternoon sun cast move.  There was so much tension in her hands that her knuckles had turned white.  “Come in,” she called in a choked voice.

The door opened and Phillia instantly relaxed somewhat when the round faced boy entered, shutting the door behind her.  “I’ve been sent by your sister,” he said.  Immediately, the tension was back.

“What does Lachesis want?” Phillia asked.  She and her sister did not look like sisters at all.  Aside from the fact that they both had the same delicate, almond shaped eyes, they were polar opposites, Lachesis with her curtain of black hair, Phillia with her long blond curls, Lachesis with her severe, high cheekbones, Phillia whose face still retained traces of baby fat and dimples.

The young man reached out, handing Phillia a roll of parchment, sealed with Lachesis’ seal.  “She told me to give you this.”

“Of course,” Phillia muttered, accepting the scroll.  “The gods forbid she should come in person to speak with me.”  Grumbling thus, Phillia broke the seal and unfurled the parchment.  Her eyes danced back and forth, scanning the paper.  It was written in the old language.  Phillia might have laughed at her sister’s paranoia, but the words before her weren’t very funny.

“What does she say?” the young man asked curiously.

Phillia bit her lips together for a moment, fearful that if she tried to say anything, a great sob would escape.  “She says,” Phillia answered slowly, “that you are to prepare me for the ball tonight, Jason.”

“The ball?”  Jason blinked, as if not quite comprehending.

“The ball.”

“But…but…the only women attending the ball tonight will be the princesses suing for Fiyero’s hand.”

“Yes.”

Jason knelt down beside the bed, gently pulling the letter in his direction.  He quickly scanned the page.  “Oh gods.”

“Yes.”

“Oh gods.”

“She wants me to vie with the other girls to be Fiyero’s wife!”  Phillia buried her face in her hands, fighting back tears.

“But that’s not possible,” Jason said, rolling up the message of doom.  “You’re not a princess.”

“If our clan was still intact,” Phillia told him, her voice breaking every once and again, “I would technically have the title.  I wouldn’t be a ruling princess, but I’d be a princess.”

“But the clan is gone!”

“You know how Lachesis is,” Phillia sighed.  She lifted her head from her hands, looking down at Jason.  Filled with heaviness, she slid off of the edge of the bed, landing on the floor beside him.

“This wasn’t part of the plan.  Why is she changing the plan?”

“Something must have stood in the way of her ‘perfect’ plan,” Phillia muttered angrily.

“What are we going to do?”

“I suppose I’ll wear the pink dress.  Lachesis says that’s the sort of thing a princess would wear.”

“Phillia!”

“What?”

“You’re not actually going to go along with this, are you?”

She looked at him, her amber eyes widening slightly in surprise.  “Of course, I am.”

“Do you love Fiyero?”

“Of course not,” she replied indignantly.  “I barely even know him.  Lachesis never lets me go to court.”

“Then why are you going to go along with it?”

“Because Lachesis says I have to.”

“Do you always do what Lachesis tells you to?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s wrong.”

Phillia gently stroked his shoulder.  “So do you, Jason.”

Jason opened his mouth and closed it again, looking a bit like a fish out of water.  “Well, that’s wrong.”

“We have no choice, neither of us.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, several curls spiraling down his chest.  Jason watched her intently with his gentle brown eyes.  “Lachesis would be very cross, wouldn’t she?  If we showed any sign of disapproval.”

“Yes.”

He pulled back, placing his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to look into his eyes.  “We could leave.”

“What?”

“We could run away.”

“Elope?”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Phillia…”

“No, no, no,” Phillia stood up, crossing the room to her closet.  She wheeled back around, pointing at Jason.  “That would never work!”

“Why not?”

“She’d find us.  You know she’d be capable of it.  No matter where we went, she’d manage to track us down eventually.”

“So are we to live in fear for the rest of our lives?” he asked, standing up to face her.

“Yes.”

“Are we to live in fear and loveless marriages?”

“You know I wouldn’t choose it.”  She sighed, turning around.  “Who knows?  Maybe I won’t please Fiyero.”  Pulling her closet doors open, she blinked away a few tears and began to examine the dresses inside.  Suddenly, she felt Jason’s arms snake around her waist.  “Jason…”

“You’re the prettiest girl in Galaxia.  I daresay the world.”

“Jason…”

“No, let me finish.  We all know how much our beloved prince values outward beauty.  He’s always flaunting his own.  How in the world can you think that you wouldn’t please him?  He’d choose you in a heartbeat.”

“Maybe you’re not giving him enough credit.  There must be more to him than there is to him.”  She leaned against his chest, feeling his pulse on her back.  “I’ll do my best to displease him, but Lachesis will know.”

“She’s been into all sorts of things lately,” Jason mumbled.  “Dangerous, powerful things.”

“The plan must have gone wrong.”

“Yes.”

“Which means, I have to play the dutiful sister and become a princess.”  She sighed.  “Oh, I don’t know the first thing about being a princess!”

“I don’t think it requires much,” Jason replied.  “A pretty face to match a pretty dress.”

Within his arms, Phillia turned around to face him.  She draped her hands over his shoulders, absently touching his soft brown hair with her fingertips.  “I wish I could have said yes to you.”

“I know.”

“I’d leave in an instant if I had the choice.”

“There’s nothing left for us here.”

“Lachesis seems to think there is.”

“Lachesis tends to obsess,” Jason countered.

“She just doesn’t like to let go of an old grudge.”

“That’s another way of saying obsessive.”

Phillia lowered her eyes, looking at the hollow of Jason’s throat, very evident as he never seemed to take the time to tie the strings of his tunic all the way.  His sloppiness was something Phillia absolutely adored.  “Maybe we can steal a dance tonight at the ball before the prince arrives?”

“The prince always arrives first.”

“Oh.”

“But maybe when his back is turned,” Jason added quickly with a gleam in his eyes.

“Just be sure Lachesis has her back to us too.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Phillia trailed a finger down Jason’s chest, in between the flaps of his tunic.  “We still have a few hours before the ball.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“And I fully intend to make the most of them.”

“How?”

Jason leaned forward.  Gently, he brushed his lips against hers.  Phillia clapped her hands to either side of his face.  Drawing him closer, she kissed him.  Jason was surprised at first.  He blinked a few times, not sure what had just happened.  As his mind cleared, he kissed her back, throwing aside their troubles for one moment of perfect happiness.

 

“Princess Charlotte of Brennen,” a page announced as yet another princess was paraded into the throne room.  She walked down the carpeted aisle to the foot of the throne where Fiyero stood.

“Princess,” Fiyero said, taking her hand and kissing it as she curtsied, “welcome to Galaxia.”

With that, she was escorted to guest quarters, just like the dozens and dozens of girls who had entered before her and the dozens more waiting to be introduced.  Lachesis entered without introduction, pushing aside a few of the last members of Charlotte’s train to make her way to Fiyero before another girl could be introduced.  “Your majesty,” she called, barely pausing to curtsy.

“What is it, Lachesis?”

Brushing her long hair over her shoulder, Lachesis climbed a step of the throne platform, leaning close to whisper to Fiyero.  “I’ve just received word of another attack by a Ruathan troublemaker.”

“What now?” Fiyero muttered back, his cordial smile never faltering to concern the courtiers.

“The village of Greene.”

At this point, Link appeared in the doorway to the throne room.  He started to walk forward toward the throne, but the page by the door stopped him.  Rolling his eyes skyward, Link murmured a few words to the page who then turned to address the room.  “Link of Hyrule.”

With that, Link was released and made his way down the aisle to where Lachesis and Fiyero were huddling.  “It seems there’s a deviance between your message of peace and the acts of war being wrought on my territories,” Fiyero told him in a very stern whisper.

“What?”

“The village of Greene,” Lachesis said, folding her arms across her chest.  “Don’t act like you didn’t know it would happen.”

“I didn’t know what would happen?”

“There was trouble in the village.”

“Is anyone hurt?” Link asked urgently.

Lachesis scowled.  “No.  But the bake shop was burnt down and there are a lot of angry people without bread.”

“This is getting out of hand,” Fiyero said gruffly.  “These Ruathan antics must be stopped once and for all.”

“Your majesty,” Link implored, “believe me when I say something is amiss here.  I promise you, all King Corbel wants is peace.”

“A likely story,” Lachesis sneered.  “He wants to get our guard down so he can attack.”

“That’s not true!”

“Enough!” Fiyero roared, a bit louder than he ought to have let his voice get in the middle of court.  He turned to address Link.  “I suggest you get yourself back to Ruatha at once.”

“But…”

Fiyero held up a hand to silence him.  “I have a message for Corbel.  Tell him his people are no longer welcome in my land.”

“Princess Kym of Ruatha!” the page by the door cried.

In an instant, Link, Fiyero, and Lachesis all turned to look up.  Link felt himself deflate instantly.  Standing there beside the page, he at once recognized Ralph, the annoying young man who had followed him around during his exploits in Labrynna a few months back.  Ralph looked very much the same as ever, though his clothing was a bit more ceremonious than usual, dark gray leggings under a red and gold tunic, and on his arm was a woman.  Link squinted his eyes slightly, looking closer.  No!  It couldn’t be, it couldn’t possibly be!  But it was.  Standing beside Ralph, looking absolutely ridiculous in a high turban, was the witch Maple.

“Guards!” Lachesis shouted, “Seize them!”

The color drained from Ralph’s face.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  Is this a bad time?  Well, we’ll just be…”  He and Maple backed up, but quickly found that several knights had appeared behind them, brandishing swords menacingly.

“Take them away!” Lachesis barked.

One of the guards grabbed Maple’s arm.  “Stop that!” Ralph snapped, slapping the hand.  “Take your hands off of the princess.”

“And just who are you?” Lachesis asked, gesturing for the guards to wait a moment.

Ralph threw back his head proudly, brushing his hair out of his face.  “I am Ralph,” he announced in a booming voice, “advisor to the king.”

“He’s given you some rather bad advice,” Fiyero said quietly.

“Ralph,” Link muttered, narrowing his eyes.  He walked across the room toward them, registering their shared surprise at seeing Link of all people in a place like Galaxia.  “I know exactly who this man is, your majesty,” he said, turning around to face Fiyero.  “And believe me when I say that King Corbel would trust his daughter to no one else, but Ralph.”

“King Corbel is a fool, then,” Lachesis sneered.

“Don’t you see?” Link addressed Fiyero.  “This is a gesture of peace.  King Corbel’s own daughter.  His only daughter.”

“It’s a trick, your majesty,” Lachesis said.

“How can it be a trick?” Link asked.  “One girl, completely at your mercy, with only a weak and pitiful advisor to protect her.”

“Hey!” Ralph cried.

“This is a gesture of peace,” Link pressed on.

Fiyero had been silently stroking his chin up until this point.  Now he moved forward, crossing the room toward the others.  Disgruntled, Lachesis hefted up her black, gathered skirt and followed behind him, the sharp points of her heels clicking angrily on the floor.  With a gesture, Fiyero caused the guards behind Maple and Ralph to back away.  “What’s your lineage?” he asked Maple in a quiet voice.

Ralph’s eyes nearly bugged out, but Maple boldly stood forward.  “I am Kym Corbel,” she told him evenly, “daughter of the king.  Son of Seyton, son of Natalya, daughter of Lycus, son of Orestes.”

“Orestes?” Fiyero questioned her.

“Orestes Fleance, my lord,” Maple replied smoothly.

“Orestes Fleance,” Fiyero repeated, his eyes lighting up.  “My grandfather used to tell me stories about Orestes Fleance.  He was a great battle mage for my great-great-grandfather’s army.”

“Your majesty!” Lachesis cried.

“Princess Kym has a guest friendship with my family,” Fiyero announced, loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“Your majesty!” Lachesis called again.

“For as long as her visit, she is not to be harmed.  Your future king has spoken.”  And all the courtiers wouldn’t dare to question it.

Lachesis had no objection, however.  “Your majesty, I really must protest.  Do you really think that the –”

“I’ve made my decision, Lachesis,” Fiyero interrupted her.

The high minister sighed, defeated.  “As you wish, your majesty,” Lachesis surrendered.

“Good.  Now see to it that the princess and her escort are assigned rooms along with the others.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

The entire time, Fiyero didn’t take his eyes off of Maple.  Now, he took another step forward, gently taking her hand.  “Welcome, Princess Kym,” he told her, leaning down to kiss her knuckles.  “I do hope you’ll enjoy Galaxia.”

“So far,” Maple snapped bitterly at him, “I’m not very impressed with your hospitality.”

The entire room was shocked and scandalized.  Ralph turned pink, biting down on his lips to keep from saying anything.  Several courtiers within hearing range inhaled sharply.  Lachesis’ folded arms dropped down, dangling uselessly at her sides.  Link was forced to cover his mouth.  Everyone waited nervously, watching Fiyero and his perfect nose to see if it would flare in anger.  The last thing anyone expected Fiyero to do was exactly what he did.  He laughed.  “I suppose you haven’t seen us at our finest,” he chuckled.

“I’ll say,” Maple agreed, grinning a little bit, completely oblivious to the shocked stares around her.

“But perhaps,” Fiyero continued, “I can make amends for our bad first impression.  Galaxia is a fine place.”

“Well, everyone deserves a second chance,” Maple admitted.

“Thank you,” Fiyero told her, bending down to kiss her hand yet again.  “With your permission, I should like to begin making amends right now.  Unless of course you’d like time to freshen up from the road, change out of your traveling clothing into something more comfortable.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable,” Maple replied.

“I should hope so.  Well, then, with your permission, I’d most like to escort you to the royal gardens.  The orchids are just beginning to bloom.  You’ll love it, I’m quite certain.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said.

Fiyero took a step back and held out a fist.  Delicately, Maple rested her palm on top of the fist.  “Lachesis,” Fiyero called without taking his eyes off of the woman on his arm.  “Get them rooms prepared.”  Grumbling under her breath, Lachesis stormed out of the throne room.  “This way,” Fiyero said, gesturing grandly as he escorted Maple through the glass doors of the throne room which let out into the blossoming Galaxian courtyard.

 

King Corbel was in a good mood.  He lounged on his throne, luxuriating in the comforts of being king.  Before him, his fool performed amusing antics, tossing ladies skirts into the air from behind them and laughing with joy as he dodged their angry shrieks and fists.  Sitting on the king’s knee was a beautiful girl, less than half his age, letting out bemused shrieks as he toyed with her braid.

The door to the throne room burst open and the captain of the guard came huffing and puffing to the throne platform.  “Yes?” Corbel asked in a booming, annoyed voice.  “What is it?”

“Your majesty,” the captain gasped, bowing hurriedly.  “I have intelligence of great importance.”

“What is it?” Corbel demanded.

“It’s about Galaxia.”

“What?”

“I’ve just received a report that a member of the Agave clan has been spotted in Prince Fiyero’s court.”

“What?”  Corbel started to lean forward, but the girl gave a shriek of protestation.  “Oh, away with you,” he said, sending her off on her way.  The king’s attention was completely focused on the captain.  “The Agave clan is dead.”

“Not as dead as we thought, sire.”

“Send word to Link immediately,” Corbel barked.  “He must be warned.”

 

Link angrily slammed Ralph up against the wall, pinning him there by his shoulders.  They were just outside of the throne room and the door had just closed, sealing them off from the watchful eyes of the courtiers.  “Ow!” Ralph shouted in indignation.

“Princess Kym,” Link said, gritting his teeth in a vain attempt to keep his voice down, “is fourteen years old.”

“She’s an early bloomer!”

“That girl is not Princess Kym.  That is Maple, the witch’s apprentice!”

“A minor detail,” Ralph mumbled.

“You’re going to give me a good explanation.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll tell Prince Fiyero that she’s a fraud and you’re an idiot.”

“And he’ll throw you out of Galaxia or into the dungeon for lying to him!” Ralph shot back.  “Now who’s the idiot?”

Link released Ralph abruptly, letting him drop down to the floor.  “What’s going on Ralph?  I deserve to know.”

Ralph took his good time brushing off his rumpled tunic before he answered.  “I’m on a mission,” he said haughtily.

Fighting the urge to explode, Link closed his eyes, counted to five then repeated, “A mission.”

“Yes,” Ralph boasted, puffing his scrawny chest out, “a very important secret mission.”

“Who sent you on this mission?” Link asked quietly.

“Nayru, of course.”

“I should have guessed.”

“It was something she could only trust me with.”

“What’s the mission?”

Ralph looked from side to side, although it was very obvious they were alone.  “Artifact,” he grunted, keeping his teeth tightly clenched, looking in the opposite direction.

“What?”

“Artifact.”

Link smacked Ralph on the back of the head.  “Just talk.  If someone’s coming, I’ll know.”  He gestured to his pointed Hylian ears.  “I have super sensitive hearing,” he lied.

“Well, I didn’t know you could do that.  How handy it must be.”  Ralph cleared his throat before continuing in a very important voice.  “Nayru has sent me to retrieve an artifact from Prince Fiyero’s treasury.”

“What artifact?”

“The Amulet of Secrets.”

Link squeezed the bridge of his nose.  “The Amulet of Secrets.”

“Yes.”

“What’s it do?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly, but what I do know is that, combined with the Harp of Ages and the Rod of Seasons, it has the power to seal Twinrova out of the realm forever…or the next best thing.”

“That sounds…”

“Crazy, I know.”

“Actually, in a strange way, it makes a lot of sense.  Why do these things always come in threes?”

“I don’t know, but Nayru asked me to get it, so I’m going to get it.”

“Ralph?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s it look like?”

“What?”

“What does the amulet look like?”

“Well…I…I never got around to asking actually.”

“Great…”

“But I’ll be able to figure it out.  You see, that’s the true brilliance of the plan.  Maple goes to the ball and distracts everyone so that I can go down to the treasury and snoop until I find the amulet.”

“How’s Maple going to distract everyone?”

“Well, I haven’t actually gotten to that with her yet.”  Ralph laughed a bit.  “She thinks she’s just here to meet a prince.”

“You’re using Maple!?!?”

“Well, I didn’t say it was a perfect plan!”

“No, Ralph, it’s not a perfect plan.”

“There’s no need to get snippy.”

“Okay, Ralph, listen to me.  Listen very carefully.  You cannot cause trouble at the ball tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Besides the fact that it’s not nice to cause trouble at another person’s ball?  You made a grave error in claiming to be from Ruatha.  Galaxia and Ruatha are on the verge of war!  One false step and you two could be killed and me to boot.”

“All right, all right, no trouble at the ball.  I’ll just slip out after Maple makes her debut and steal the treasure.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”  Link had to pause again to compose himself.  “Because,” he went on in a quiet voice, “the guards are going to be watching your ever step.  If you disappear from the throne room, they’ll immediately follow you and you’ll get caught and there will be a big mess, ending with you and Maple being killed and me to boot!”

“So how are we supposed to get the Amulet?”

“I will find a way.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Ralph shouted, holding up his hands.  “Hit the pause for a moment there, buddy.”

“What?”

“You are not horning in on my mission!”

“Oh, for crying out loud!”

“You just want to steal my glory.  You think that maybe Nayru will start to think you’re better than me.”

“Ralph!  I’m not trying to steal your glory!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I’m just trying to keep you and Maple alive long enough to celebrate while at the same time preventing a war!”

“You stick to your job and I’ll stick to mine, buddy.”

“Ralph, I promise, when you return to Labrynna, no one will even know you saw me.  Just please, do as I ask you.  Don’t cause trouble.  There will be another way to get this accomplished so we’ll both be happy.  Understand?”

He folded his arms across his chest, pouting slightly.  “All right.”

At long last, Link managed to exhale.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now, you’d better go to the rooms they set up for you.  Just…wait there until the ball, all right?”

“Fine.”  Ralph turned and started to stalk down the hall.

“Hey, Ralph?” Link called after him.

Ralph turned around.  “What?”

“There’s one thing I’ve got to know.”

“What?”

“Why Maple?”

“Oh…well…we used to…”

“Oh.”

He frowned.  “It’s strange.  It was like there was no question about it.  It had to be Maple and no one else.”

“That is strange.”

“Tell me about it.”

 

For once in his life, no one was paying attention to Fiyero’s nose.  As he and Maple walked through the courtyard, Maple’s eyes darted excitedly from one thriving plant to another.  Fiyero, for his part, had eyes only for Maple.  In all of his days, he could not remember seeing anyone so enthused by something as trivial as a flower garden.  Nevertheless, there she was, pausing every few moments to touch the waxy petals of an orchid.

As she stopped for the fifth time, Fiyero chuckled.  “Do you have gardens back home?” he asked.

Maple frowned slightly.  “Nothing like this,” she answered.  It was true enough.  Labrynna, as it was, still had a long way to go before it fully recovered from the catastrophes that Twinrova had brought about through Veran.

“Do you like plants?”

“Yes, I mean, they’re not my favorite thing in the world, but I like them well enough.”

“So do I,” Fiyero said.  He glanced up.  Looming ahead of them was an enormous tree in full bloom.  Emerald green leaves lit up the branches, each one hanging down with five points.  “This might interest you,” Fiyero told her, guiding her over to the base of the great tree.

“It’s big,” Maple muttered.

“This,” Fiyero announced proudly, “is a brand new species of tree.  Never before seen in the realm.”

“Really?”

He nodded.  “It was a gift to my father.”

“What’s it called?”

Fiyero frowned slightly.  “It doesn’t really have a name,” he sighed.  “My father never got around to naming it.”

“Well, then you’ll have to name it.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Fiyero replied.

“Well, you must,” Maple insisted.  “You can’t have a nameless tree.  What will the other trees say about it?”

It took a few moments for Fiyero to grapple with what she had just said.  When comprehension finally dawned on him, he let out a hearty chuckle.  “I suppose you’re right.  The trees do tend to gossip.”

“Well, not the trees themselves,” Maple corrected him with a playful smile.

“Not the trees?”

“The wood nymphs inside of the trees.”

“Wood nymphs!  How foolish of me.”

“If you listen very carefully, you can hear them right now,” she said, closing her eyes.

Fiyero watched her in pure admiration, a silly grin on his face.  “What are they talking about?”

“Old family tales,” Maple answered.  “The matron, Grandmother Andromache is telling her grandchildren stories of the woods.”

“What are the grandchildren named?”

“Lurian, Calonice, and Sosias.”

“You are remarkable.”

Maple opened her eyes, looking at him in surprise.  “What?”

“The way you see tales in the air, drawing out invisible strings and weaving them together.  I’ve never seen anyone do anything like that.”

“My grandmother tells me I’m just wasting time on silly entertainments,” Maple told him.

“She’s wrong.  It’s delightful.”

She shrugged.  “I just think made up histories are better than what’s really happening.”

“The world isn’t quite filled with happy endings, is it?”

“No.”

“Such as the troubles between our two kingdoms.”

“I must confess, I have no idea what’s going on.”

Taking her arm, Fiyero led her to an iron wrought bench on the side of the cobblestone path, beneath the shade of the great, nameless tree.  As Maple sat, Fiyero propped his foot up on the bench near her, gesturing out to the Galaxian countryside.  “Ruatha and Galaxia have been at a stand off since well before our grandfathers’ time,” he said.

“Yes, but why?”

“You know that Galaxia was once, in ancient times, divided into clans?”

Maple shook her head.  “No.”

“Well, centuries ago, instead of one unified kingdom, we had small city states, each one inhabited by a different clan.  There were ten clans in total.  The Cilissa, the Baz, the Crito, the Morn, the Katt, the Ces, the Kostya, the Timore, the Thucy, and the Agave.”

“I see.”

“Well, one day, a great warrior of the Cilissa, my ancestor, united the clans all under one government.  Some of the clans blended together better than others.  The Agave and the Kostya remained a bit less involved in the social and political scene of Galaxia, living in the more isolated border towns.”

“By the sea?”

“Yes.  And years ago, a Ruathan fleet, heading home after a war with Pyrnne, weighed anchor right off our shores.  A small team landed to barter for supplies, but the Agave living in the town mistook them for an attack.  They killed all of them and the Ruathan fleet still at sea retaliated and burned the town to ashes.