A/N: It's been ages, I know. I've been writing this in bits and pieces over like the last 5 months-ish I think. It's just... like... I don't even... I'm just glad it got to a finishable point really, enough for me to post. It was gonna be longer, but it's been way too long between updates and Sorelliena poked me about it and here it is. 95% of it is good. The end is lazy. Sorry.

The sound of many feet echoed down the castle halls, an urgency behind them, and even the crimson runners beneath couldn't stifle such haste. Pensive voices went with them, cautious and awestruck whispers as a sublime twist of disbelief hung expectantly in the castle-warmed air. Caught awake and misplaced by what seemed a small miracle in the dead of night, the fateful handful of men—in service to a stolen crown—clambered to keep up with their sovereign as the Sheikah strode hastily ahead, followed by his paling ward.

It's here, by Gods, it's here; Zelda's mind was racing as they went, golden tresses bouncing as bare feet padded swift under the swishing of skirts. She could hardly feel them, numbed by the settling cold as it lingered from the lakeside still. So surreal was this moment, the carpet was lost to her senses to leave her feeling as if she were floating; caught on a divine string to be pulled speedily toward destiny. It was so sudden, so strong, the very notion that they were about to lay eyes upon history overwhelmed her—of everything that had happened, that could be prepared for, this was the first true sign to lend stark reality to it.

Scarcely able to hear anything amongst the din of footfalls and the frantic drumming of her heart, the world seemed to move around her autonomously as if she was no longer truly part of it. Many voices seemed distant to her ears, their faces blurred in haste around her, and Zelda found herself locked in a bubble of silent panic. Even when some addressed or mentioned her, as they all raced forward down this lonely castle hall, she did not stir to them.

Aloof was she, in her fixation to simply see and confirm the truth for herself, unnerved by the fact that it could be as they said. The stone seemed bleaker than ever before to her eye, as if darkness had seeped in while she was gone. The armour suits seemed so very hollow and the tapestries faded, the flicker of torches only half as bright, as a brilliant—though her heart beckoned terrible—secret suddenly graced these walls.

The Master Sword had arrived, and already, the Princess found an implacable dread within her becoming of it.

Crystalline eyes wavered over her fiancé's back, tracing muscle through the dark skin tight garb as he walked. Zelda found herself small and removed from him in such fuss as his voice seemed to fill the hall, though he gave only low hisses to the councilmen around them. It seemed her small bubble of shock, perhaps even denial, burst when it came to the familiar timbre of her husband to be. Pointed ears twitched around every word he spoke, and the Princess couldn't help feeling as though she—for whatever reason—was not truly supposed to be here.

"I trust all the necessary precautions have been taken in construction, Themis?" The disguised Gerudo's head whipped to one side as he growled it out, biting the words through a harsh snap of his teeth and settling the man with a stern glare. "...Because if I find the work lack lustre, for such an important artefact to the Crown as this, the neglect shown will be taken as contempt."

Behind him, his tone made Zelda twitch with apprehension—the Princess had no knowledge of what the 'precautions' were or even that a 'construction' had taken place, and her heart began to sink lower into anxiety for that. Yet another thing he'd kept from her, organising it without her consent or participation... but what state was she in of late to help, anyway? He'd made it clear that she'd done nothing but drive those around her to confusion and disappointment.

Her unrest was palpable, though to Ganondorf's great relief she had held her tongue thus far and continued to do so. His glances back to her were brief but powerful, and silently he willed her to be distracted by internal musings still. He had given her more than enough to think about today, potentially lessening her attentiveness to other matters, but he knew better than to rely on that assumption.

She was tense and somewhat rattled, that much he could tell—he could only hope it was a product of their little chat taking its toll, rather than anything to worry for where the Master Sword was concerned. It was the one thing he didn't need her sticking her nose too far into, caught off guard by the news as they both had been.

Thankfully, Zelda's thoughts for the moment were merciful enough for him, berating herself instead as the cloud of their earlier conversations hung over her. As he caught her gaze once more over his shoulder, the girl's lips parted to speak up, but something in the musings around her reminded Zelda it was probably best not to; words quelled within her immediately. A nauseated twist in her stomach gripped her when again, from the corner of his sharp eye, she saw that eerie flash of gold still shimmering violently in his irises.

Biting her lip, she tried in earnest to swallow her want to question. Perhaps to belay her lack of knowledge about these happenings was best for the impression gleaned by the courtiers around them.

We're just doing what needs to be done, and if I had asked, he would've told me. He always does, of course… We've just been so busy lately, that's all... And there is something that I have neglected to tell him too, after all. Her mind quietly reiterated these things like an internal mantra, unknowingly repeating to her the phrases introduced within her conditioning, It's my fault I don't know more because I wasn't attentive enough to address the facts. A tiny sigh left her as delicate brows furrowed, and the girl would succumb to the mental lashing. No wonder the others don't think of me as fit to lead... Look at how disorganised I am. A little concentration doesn't go astray, Zelda. Bad form.

Even as this wordless exchange occurred between the secretive couple, Themis gave his stiff reply to the Regent with rehearsed confidence, gradually drawing Ganondorf's scowling features back upon himself.

"Yes, Sire. We were under great strains to see the task completed in such a short time span with the discretion you've pressed upon us, but indeed, all of the security measures are in place." offered up with notable heed of the Sheikah's threat, the man would tug nervously upon his coat before sweeping a hand over brown hair. "Only a few aesthetic touches remain which, I assure you, should hold no bearing upon your confidence. It shall be well guarded."

For a moment, Zelda's gaze followed Themis as he spoke beside her betrothed—puffing some and trying to keep speed with the Regent as he was—only to recognise him from the morning she had met the Sage Rauru. The man held a strange resemblance to her father, and instantly a familiar bitterness came bubbling up in her chest as the both of them seemed almost keen to leave distance between her and themselves. A part of her suddenly wished for Sir Shadrian's presence, knowing that the wiry old scholar would provide the bridge she needed to be more directly involved... it struck the Princess as odd that he wasn't among them already, given his love of history.

But a tired blink allowed the men some reprieve from her resentful attention. Her eyes still hurt from the tears earlier, and her reticence would hide a hoarse throat; the Princess knew she must've seemed a little sickly. At first she had hoped that was what had diverted attention from her; perhaps the courtsmen gave her ample space out of consideration. Though, the more time went on, she dismissed that thought further. Normally, she would've been thankful for Sheik to hold the spotlight off of herself, as he so often did, but now it seemed painfully clear that this was no matter of mercy or convenience. Even had she been in fine spirits, the choice was not hers at present—he was in command, and she was simply his shadow.

Zelda was suddenly the child again, ignored by a court that didn't care for her and a 'King' that distracted them wonderfully from her presence.

Still she was silent as they talked around her. A balding man to her left piped up to supplement the other, and the Princess' eyes snapped to him harshly, knowing that nobody would notice her growing glare. She didn't even know his name or title; hardly recognised the elder at all. Leaning closer to the Sheikah ahead, this one was quick to faun, chasing some recognition and perhaps trying to climb another rung on the court's ladder.

"Indeed, the last detailing on the masonry is being carried out over the course of the next few days. In respect and gratitude to his Holiness' blessings, we've set some of our best Royal artisans to the build as well..." the sound of his smile was evident in his voice, a subtle pride to it.

"I've seen their work with stained glass thus far. Giving such reverence to the past, I must say, even the Sages themselves will think it a fitting resting place when the chamber is completed. The sculptors are at work on a statue to disguise the opening as well—understandably, most of us felt that a giant slab of stone, while effective as a barrier, did seem a somewhat obvious entrance."

A few chuckles rang out in a private and subdued joke that the Princess did not quite get, cementing her position as being out of this loop. Themis only added to it with light, almost unsure humour, "Yes, the Hero's eyes should be most watchful indeed, concerning his own blade."

The disguised Gerudo, however, did not share in such subtle mirth. Unseen by Zelda behind him, and only thinly veiled to the men at his call, his mouth twisted with a sneering grimace. Though part of him tried to hold it back, the past week had already stripped him of most of his patience and forced temperance. He should've guessed such an insulting effigy as the boy, immortalised in stone, might mar his progress, marking it as if to mock him. A reminder by coincidence or fate that he had not come away victorious quite yet.

Cold with a hint to his lack of respect or care for such meaningless detail, it came a mutter with only the slightest pause in his step, bandaged hands clenched into fists.

"...Reverence, you say?" he repeated distastefully, "Ah yes… Passing off the bloodied rags of history for rare silks, how could I expect any less..." his sarcasm was well hidden in the grip of sleepless eyes, passed off as a bored musing from a tired mind. "I suppose creative liberties are always taken, though. Only the best and most glamorous will do, even if it comes with a cost to truth, thanks to the artist's bias."

A tiny flicker of confusion flew about for it, but even before the first eyebrow had fully lifted, the supposed Sheikah continued to dismiss his statement from their attention.

With a negligent wave of his hand, he sighed, closing gold flecked eyes with impatience. "I don't care what fineries you drape over it. I only require that no man can lay hands to it without the presence of their sovereign."

As he felt a subdued silence settle around him then, Ganondorf's jaw tensed with the want to say more, but the better judgement to hold his tongue until he had prepared something more appropriate overcame it. Bulky arms folded over his chest, stifling the annoying flutter of cotton as his strides quickened, drawing an audible wheeze from Themis as he tried to keep up.

If only that fool Badon had a better sense for timing, he might've been in a better mood to deal with such news—even so; he couldn't fault the idiot for his fortunate haste in achieving the goals set to him. Between the meeting this morning and dealing with the child's haughtiness, however, Ganondorf's tolerance for the company of councilmen had worn very thin.

He knew both Zelda and himself were out of sorts, and just when it had seemed he'd squashed one thing to go slightly awry, the minute they had set foot back in the castle had seen them presented with another. Without even time enough to take the Princess aside and soften the surprise as more of his affairs came to light, the Gerudo was ticking on how to turn this around already—his tiny fiancée was growing wary behind him, but there was no way to tell if her taciturn mood was a blessing or a curse.

The Regent had pulled her reigns harshly at the lakeside tonight, but knowing her affinity for wild horses, anything to challenge what he'd told her so soon may see the girl rear up to throw him off again very shortly.

He could feel it in his bones; if he didn't handle this delicately, it could see everything fall to pieces in a matter of moments.

Another explanation I don't have as yet, his eyes rolled beneath their lids and fingers twitched for such frustration. If she catches on to the fact I can't touch the damned thing, there's no lie I'll be able to give her to assuage any suspicions that will come of it. Grinding his teeth, he cast a paranoid glance to a suit of armour as he passed by, taking stock of his disguised reflection. Maybe I underestimated Valenzuela, somewhat... If I had known he'd pull it off this quickly, I could've prepped her today while we were alone.

Breaking him from such thoughts, however, came a subtle murmur behind him. A jolt ran through him when he heard it, paranoid of Zelda's voice and lending a visible flinch to broad shoulders. A glance given to Themis confirmed it as Ganondorf saw the man's attention pull back and though they had missed what she'd said, all had heard the tiny Princess finally speak. Instinct screamed at him to ignore it, but the pitiable mew halted him to look back at the child, brows furrowed in question as his gaze sought hers.

The councilmen followed suit when they noticed the Regent's pause, coming to a slow stop in wait of a sign to continue. None of them had even truly taken note of Zelda behind them, some slight shock coming for it when they realised she had been the first to stop, standing stoic and forgotten several paces back.

All eyes were upon her then, though Zelda held only the golden glint of her fiancé's gaze in a quietly piercing stare. It almost took the disguised Gerudo aback to see her looking so hollow, the fire in those crystalline eyes notably quelled—This had better be good, he thought, gesturing toward her as if inviting her to finally join them.

"Did you wish to add something, Zelda?" he chanced then, rich timbre flowing from a falsely accommodating smile. Biting back on his discomfort for the risk involved in letting her speak freely in front of the others, the slightest narrowing of his eyes sent her private warning; one he knew would not be lost on her. "You have been very quiet on the matter."

To his surprise, the girl waited silently to hold the stare a moment longer, not even a glance given to their company as bare toes curled upon the red runner. Her hands were still, her ears did not twitch; none of her fidgeting seemed evident at all, and that gave the Gerudo a strange sense of apprehension. After all, those were her calling cards for anxiety, and though he knew well she would be a violent sandstorm of emotion inside, the fact that she could hide it so well—fresh after a breakdown—seemed very odd indeed. Standing as still as a porcelain doll, Zelda fought her numerous tics for the sake of their company's judgement, not realising the advantage such a thing gave her over her fiancé as well.

"...Yes, your Highness." from beside the Regent, Themis eyed her as well, his hands drifting behind his back as if to restrain from dismissing her. "Do speak up, if you've a query of any kind?" There was something entirely condescending about his smile that she hated.

She glossed over their faces as she finally allowed her attention to wander, for upon every man's visage was the almost damning looks she recalled from when she had first stumbled in from the festival with the Sheikah. Nothing had changed. Sheik stood where her father would once have been, surrounded by a flock of nobles past their prime; withered faces and upturned noses given to the wayward child among them.

Hidden distain, she supposed... They're used to answering to a King, after all. Far be it from any of them to take orders from a girl… I wonder if my condition would change their minds, if only I could be certain of it so early. Tentative fingertips breezed the fabric over her stomach to that thought, but she pushed it to the back of her mind, volatile as that information was.

She new she couldn't blame them for it, truly. There was nothing for her to present to them as good reason to follow her lead, presently. She had driven them all to resent her for her childish and selfish ways, deluding herself into thinking it mature at the time. No, little Zelda was simply not ready to rule as yet, in their minds. It mattered not that she would be married, or how tall she'd become, or that she possessed a woman's chin... to the men of her father's court, she would always be that vexatious little girl covered in grass stains.

No. Bad form upon us all… Whether I am ready for the throne or not, I am still the Heir apparent. These are my courtiers, inherited from my Father, and they should start acting like it. Sheik is right, I shouldn't be so selfishly whimsical, but it would be even more so to disregard the gravity of this acquisition for fear of a council's opinion. Icy pink lips held a slight perse before parting into a definitive sound, clear and concise for all to hear.

"Me."

A curious cock of his head was given as the disguised Gerudo didn't quite catch her meaning, matching the bored or otherwise confused frowns of the other men, wrinkles deepening about grimaces. A silver brow rose expectantly as thick fingers began to rap upon his bicep, and the Regent grew impatient.

"You what, Zelda?" eyeing her carefully, a slight snarl took him, hoping the sudden attention might—at the very least—make her think carefully upon whatever she wished to say.

Her paled features betrayed nothing for him to go on as Zelda allowed herself a slow blink, drawing a calming breath. Elaborating further, the Princess inclined her head to nod toward the Regent himself, golden tresses swaying listless to frame her cold features. "You said that no man shall lay hands to the Master Sword unless their sovereign is present. Technicalities aside, I think everyone here can agree that, under such important circumstances as that Blade's security, the Royal bloodline's heir would take precedence over a Regent's authority... In fact, aside from my delegating many responsibilities to you, Sheik, it always has."

A tiny, forced smile flickered upon the corners of her mouth, sent to sweep the men gathered around the Sheikah so loyally before her crystalline gaze returned to him. "His Holiness gave his blessing to me, and made it clear that this artefact would be my responsibility. Therefore, I can only assume you mean to imply that my permission and presence is required, and in this case, would supersede all others aside from the Sage himself."

Stepping forward, she would raise a finger to wag it at them, much like Sir Shadrian did when on a roll with one of his 'spinning diddle' tales. "In fact, I would amend your order further. I want that chamber sealed and without breach—once the stained glass is put in place—to await the presence of the Hero. It will only be opened on my order, thereafter, when I deem a man fit to be that Hero by the divine Wisdom gifted to me."

The tiniest flutter of victory stirred in her heart as the withered men seemed to recoil from the notion, as if disgusted by the truth of it, barely able to hide their disapproval. To add insult to injury, the girl continued to pad forward with a gentle sway of skirts, glasslike jaw tilted upwards to shun them all. They deserved to taste their own bitter medicine, she thought.

"As such, I'm afraid I will be dismissing all of you from here. Go back to whatever business you were attending before the weapon arrived, and Sheik and I shall inspect it in privacy. The only member of court I require at the moment is Sir Shadrian for his relevant knowledge of the artefact in question. The rest of you surely have better things to be doing, and as your Regent often says, our time is precious and not to be wasted..." With a saccharine grin, she would gesture toward Themis as she passed him, her hand waving in a shooing motion to be expected of a young royal. "So please, do fetch him promptly."

Twisting to follow the girl as wild eyes flickered in silent fury, the disguised Gerudo stiffened with a want to shake and roar. Does the brat retain nothing?! Fresh from a verbal lashing and already, she seeks to usurp me like this…? Damn it all! He screamed internally, arms tightening over his chest so fiercely his hands began to tingle.

Grinding teeth for such audacious behaviour, as he watched the Princess elegantly meander onward without pause, leaving the stunned and probably affronted councilmen—and himself—behind her. But he found, to his chagrin, that he couldn't fault the opportunity she'd given them. Indeed, to view the sword without the prying busybodies flocking about to catch him out in his lack of preparation, and afford ample privacy in which to manipulate the girl further, was advantageous.

The scholar she favoured was certainly no hassle to get around, either... though her flippancy for protocol was going to be hard to bounce back from now. Clearly she didn't fear the court's opinions of her any longer, or at least, had twisted his words into an excuse not to by simply excluding them from her affairs where not necessary.

Thus destroying the careful imagery he had painted of a timid and unsure princess, yet in need of much guidance, before the court's eye. Fleeting though it was, and easily set aside, what Zelda had flashed in that sweet smile of hers was an eerie confidence—her seemingly calm and almost carefree dismissal of the men gathered was as clear an echo of her father as they might ever see in her.

Traits the men would recognise and accept as the mark of leadership blossoming were it consistent… but for the moment, no true damage had been done to his hold on her father's court, and he intended for it to stay that way.

None of the courtiers had dispersed as ordered, a few whispers burning the Regent's ear about his ward's lack of decorum and sheer disrespect for the gravity of their situation. Ganondorf could feel the looming spectre of doubt about whether she would be fit for a queen when they married swirling around him—he had put great effort into keeping their perception of the Princess in the grey, neither favourable nor terribly inept. That was the safest way he could maintain control of Hyrule's affairs while still sharing authority with the girl. If her stubbornness cost him influence, she would pay dearly for it, though silently the Gerudo resolved to get to the bottom of her near bipolar behaviours.

Something simply wasn't adding up, though he'd done all that he could to reign her in.

With a squint, Themis' hushed voice washed over him to bring him back from his thoughts.

"Sire...?" Even as the supposed Sheikah shot him a glance, the offence taken by the girl's brash dismissal was evident upon the courtier's face. Even so, it was only on the disguised Gerudo's order that he would actually take his leave.

"Indulge her for the moment." biting it out though clenched teeth, Ganondorf would relent with frustrated sigh, letting his arms return to his sides with an air of reluctance as he made the first few steps to follow her. "I have it all in hand, either way. Despite what our young Zelda has said, I would strongly suggest you take your time in summoning the scholar... I think it would be best if I settle her before she gets too 'excitable', and unfortunately, Sir Shadrian has a rather amplifying affect on her moods. The very moment Badon shows his face, however, notify me immediately."

"Of course, Sire, within the echo of his boot fall, I shall send you word." Sweeping a humbled hand over golden buttons upon his coat front, the noble quirked a brow, bowing his head low in a secretive manner.

"…But if I may be so bold… You know well of our worries concerning the Princess' behaviour of late. I assure you, nothing of them will reflect upon your own standing among my peers, though I would implore you steady the last of her childlike haughtiness with haste. These glimmers of a true ruler in her must be tempered with grace and maintained… I need not tell you that the reception of your marriage may rely upon it, let alone the fate of us all when evil does present itself in person. Far be it from this council to undermine your wise decision or the order of our fair Princess, however there are certain standards she must meet if she is to be wed, you understand. We could do nothing to stop her as the heir, but if the people are presented with a child when they are in need of a Queen…"

A grim silence took hold as they all gave pause, wrinkled gazes turning to meet one another as most held their tongues anxiously. Themis, drawing cautious breath, finished with a solemn incline of his head. "…there would be panic in the streets, Sire, when darkness arrives and it becomes apparent they have nobody fit to defend them from it. The denizens of this great nation are only as strong as the one who would lead them. If a child steps forth, only to falter… then they will all be no better than children, quivering with fear for the dark."

Ganondorf could easily see where this was headed; staring after the wayward Princess' path with a heavy scowl for the trouble she'd left in her wake. "Zelda seems in a mood to play favourites, Themis, nothing more. It is a shallow thing, remnants of old habit and the terse relationship between herself and the council in younger days—days that are swiftly fading, at that. Her dislike for your men doesn't reflect how she will rule this country. You would do well to remember she has lost her father and gained much responsibility to replace him in a short time. Thus far, she has held her mind in good tact for her age and nature despite it."

It was only partly a lie, but the truth writhing within it stained his tongue with a bitter taste. "Don't be so hasty to form your opinions… I hold faith in her still, and so should you all."

Themis, searching for the words on the edge of his tongue, fell second for a moment as another nobleman stepped forward from the paling group behind, cautious and humble as he gave the truth.

Hands held open to the Regent with a helpless shine in small set eyes, he murmured slowly through a greying beard with pathos. "We have had every faith in her; that she would come into herself with time… we always have… but we do not have time on our side, and that is why we are fearful for her capacities. Her father, may the Goddesses rest his Majesty's soul, often used to speak of her in court with much the same optimism and consideration you also allow for her. Heeding him, we have been patient in the wait of her budding maturity, and made many exceptions for her conduct. She would return us with refusal for tradition and decorum, and that too we have accepted as far as leniency beckons…"

Closing his eyes, the elder would sigh, as if sorry for the poor Princess and what the world demanded of her so soon. "But we cannot wait on her Highness any longer—every great leader must make a sacrifice, and now it is Zelda's turn. As Sir Themis has said, Hyrule will fall to peril if it is without a stable leader to guide it through the times ahead. Wisdom will transform her into a fine Queen when her sixteenth year falls, but we do not have the luxury of relying on such blessings now… If all is as it seems, we may have until years' end at the very most for this evil to strike. She must be properly groomed, and we must set about it now."

The supposed Sheikah refused to face them still, though cemented by his colleague, Themis' thoughts found purchase with a reluctant nod of agreement, his head bowed in some shame for it.

"Lord Dotour speaks well for us all, I'm afraid. This council's purpose is to advise on what is best for this country, and sadly, her Highness' disregard for such advice is rather… startling. She would not be groomed, her attention is prone to wandering, she has little respect for—or too little experience to recognise—what protocol demands of her status… given her authority does indeed, as she mentioned, take precedence over yours, especially after her coronation Sire… when that occurs there will be nothing more we can do to influenceher decisions, if she still does not wish to listen."

Clearing his throat quietly, a note of conspiracy wavered upon Themis' tone. "…We can only bend to circumstance insofar as doing so does not worsen our situation. You've provided a great service to the Throne, but with respect, we fear your ward is not yet prepared to take the helm as aptly as you have. Your reports on her progress reflect this as well, however fondly you might deliver them. We cannot control or persuade her away from this marriage truly, but if she doesn't improve shortly, perhaps… you should convince her to delay it… if only to ensure an experienced man—that is to say, one possessing a more tactical mind, in knowing exactly what we're up against—is to call the shots of any battle to come of course, for the good of the People. In the meantime, this court will prepare Zelda to take the Throne after this evil has been subdued."

Pausing only a moment more to send a restless glare over his large shoulder, the disguised Gerudo took dire heed of such words, matching them with a controlled defensiveness. Bandaged fingers flexed and fell away from his chest, a subtle twitch flowing through sculpted musculature. The hidden sneer crawled back across his mouth, and Ganondorf's hatred for the pompous court doubled—all of them utterly useless without the word of a superior; disposable toys that had thus far only served to help his conditioning of Zelda.

Their usefulness was quickly drawing to a close, now that the Princess had outgrown her fears of their judgement and realised her actual position upon the hierarchy; the power she had come into all too swiftly.

The Power he had stolen from her.

It irritated him to no end that they were now trying to manipulate him, subtle though they probably thought themselves… Hiding behind the 'good of the people'… why, it almost sounded sincere. Gold stained eyes narrowed, a hateful smirk taking him and drawing an odd and unsure look from Themis. Perhaps Zelda has a fair point to make of these insipid cretins—indeed, replacements wouldn't go astray. I may even pick them out myself… or at least tell them of such danger.

With a deep chuckle, his lips curved into a sinister reflection of his amusement, continuing on from his thoughts. "Yes… nothing gets men motivated like the threat of power removed from their hand." He mused aloud, the feral smirk growing wider for the irony of it. By Din's Fire, indeed, he could sympathise with that notion very well.

"…Excuse me, sire…?"

"Let's not mince words here, Themis…" he rumbled smugly, a confident cocking of his brow given.

"Your council wants what is best for yourselves. If you all do well, you're content enough in the assumption that this country's people do also, correct? Likewise, if the country falls to ruin and its peoples are scattered, who would the lords have to lord over? Empathetic though I am to your experience in politics, and the respect you feel you should command for it… you no doubt understand that none of you shall ever be in her favour."

Gold tainted eyes flashed about sharply, ensuring that not one man escaped his scrutiny. "Even now, I expect she intends to find new blood to surround herself with at the earliest convenience…" bandaged fingers shifted to hold his chin thoughtfully, a tap given to the side of his jaw. "She's quite fond of the members left to the royal orchestra, in fact. Sir Shadrian, of course, has moved his pieces over to the Princess' board already…."

Another throaty chuckle left him. "…Clever of him. I'm sure he will tell you all of the Holy Sword's splendour." the Regent finished slyly, poisonous and aloof in his wait for reactions.

The withered group of advisors seemed to shrink back at such hissed words, knowing full well of Zelda's distaste as wrinkled eyes widened with some shock—no, there was no denying the Sheikah spoke honestly. A round of glances, paranoid men that were now realising with painful clarity their days of influence were numbered, flew about the hall in a sombre and stark moment as the Regent's words reached pointed ears. Without any comfort offered to them, the disguised Gerudo continued with a cold and matter of fact tone, staring each of them down with a posture that couldn't be challenged by any of the frail courtiers gathered.

"It is not her refusal to listen to you, but rather that you all have not heard her in turn, that poses our problems. If any of you had, many of you would've already accepted a graceful retirement and set forth your resignations... I have managed to dissuade her from any overly rash decision thus far on this council's behalf, but if any of you want to overstep the clear line she's drawn in the sand, consider it your final act of court."

His gaze travelled them before returning to Themis, and with an amused scoff Ganondorf took stock of his attire. "…I'm not sure if the pianist will fit into your coat, however, so you may still walk away with the clothes on your back, if nothing else."

Stepping closer with the want to hush him, almost frantic for the unrest it stirred in the other members, Themis would plead quietly with the disguised Gerudo; stuttering some with disbelief for how candid their leaders had been.

"S-surely you would not let her simply… toss us aside on such whims…? With respect, the esteemed members of this court might be passed their prime, but is that not the proof of an advisor's success? To call upon new members, inexperienced as they would be, in such a tumultuous time as this... and to dismiss those remaining of any worth in turn...!"

A light shake of his head saw him stare, noticing for the first time the awful gold in the Regent's eyes; unwavering and cold. "You cannot allow such a thing… Please, Sire, for the good of us all, you must continue to dissuade such thoughts from her! Musicians for a privy council to a child-Queen, as a veritable war looms upon our horizon…? That is ridiculous, Sire!"

"Ridiculous perhaps, but a very realistic outcome if you trifle too far into her affairs, like you have been recently." Scoffing coldly, Ganondorf's algid disregard of the pompous men gathered made Zelda's apparent distaste seem desirable by comparison. "The girl is not her father, Themis. She has no tolerance or sympathy for decrepit old autocrats who do not wish to give up their flimsy seats of borrowed power."

As those words echoed out to sting the ears of all gathered, the Gerudo would turn to spit his poison to Themis privately, gripping his shoulder to draw him in closer.

"Preach the gospel of protocol and decorum in your defence if you like, but you at least seem to understand that social standing does not exemplify one from a horrible fate. Tradition, too, loses some of its sheen when faced with the blackened and murderous heart of a bastard like the King of Thieves... the only etiquette he shall show you is a smile as he watches frantic stallions tear you asunder."

"…S-sire… I … understand that, but…" Themis paled somewhat at the thought, but found personal horror stripping him of the want to speak further.

That vindictive gold in his eyes sharpened cruelly upon the man's own, and there was little mercy to be found there in the fiery gaze. "…As does Zelda. She knows this far better than your petty courtiers seem to realise. If any of you had taken the time to know and listen to your future Queen truly, her behaviours would not seem so strange. They are the culmination of a young woman's preparations for her own bleak destiny... and you should all start moving to heed your own."

Drawing back as the Regent released his grip, a slight shudder was drawn from Themis; the courtier seeming to visibly shrink into a pensive and anxious coward. Relishing such fear, delicious and rare thing it was to taste so freshly these days, the disguised Gerudo raised his voice to the rest of them again with a bitter and sweeping glance.

"I intend to marry Zelda as she wishes, when she wishes, and nothing short of the flames of Hell itself could delay me in doing so. Whether the child is a Queen or a Princess, she is the same, just as I remain unchanged between an attendant, a Regent, or even a Prince Consort. My hand will still guide hers until Wisdom is upon her, so it makes little difference who you follow between us, or even if you are a part of this council. It has always been my role to advise her, keeping her and guarding her… you are merely accessories now, there for show and little else, and have been since first I played her lullaby."

From the shocked faces, Lord Dotour would step forward once more, his worn visage looking somehow more aged with the resentment it carried. The flash of teeth from between grey facial hair boasted a veiled sneer, and promptly—with notable courage before his peers—the elder would level a bony, bejewelled finger toward the Regent with haste.

"This council of advisors has been in the Royal family's service for many years longer than you have been present, Sheikah. If you and your ward wish to disregard these esteemed members in your arrogance, then I pray your guidance to her is nothing short of divine. I would remind you, however, that the fruits of your success with the Princess as yet remain to be seen."

His fellows either side stepped back from the Lord with hushed awe, disbelief for such a reaction to their Regent's more vicious intemperance—most knew better than to challenge the Sheikah that would hold the place of a King. Superstition from times of old held firmly to the presence of death about the clan, clawed hands reaching out to pluck the life from you if you raised a warrior's ire.

But at such brave dissent, the Regent would simply laugh, callous and dismissive of the old fool. "Ah, so there is at least one among you fit to be called 'nobility'. Speak your piece, Dotour. Surely, having held one of the longest tenures in court, you might offer me sound advice?" One less mind to sway, if you take your leave now.

Holding to his convictions, disgusted by the turn he'd witnessed of a man he would otherwise respect, Dotour would not let the Sheikah's words pass easily. Settling the Regent with a narrow stare, the very last shades of blue in the elder's hair served as the only hint to his heritage; a House that had served loyally for centuries and knew well of what such speeches often preceded.

"If she is to fail, and this country fall…" his hand dropped away and a stern glare replaced it as the elder turned to retreat, "…then it will be upon your clan alone such dishonour falls. Your people have already betrayed the Crown once."

With a stifled gasp, Themis would interject quickly, his hand held toward his colleague pleadingly. "Lord Dotour, please… I implore you, think about what you're saying—you would border upon treason…!" another round of frantic whispers went off like an alarm to that, and the disguised Gerudo's terrible smirk grew.

But the elder did not waver, turning his withered gaze to the other with mournful conviction. "I can not speak treason against a man who is not my King. You know it as well as I, Themis. Every man gathered knows that what we are led by is fear, whether we voice such a thing or not. Have we truly become such cowards that we must be herded like sheep toward order? I spoke truly; I have had every faith in her Highness. She is a child of Destiny, bright and bursting with potential yet untapped… but it is clear to me now why she has lingered too long in her progress, and so it should be to you all."

A damning glance was sent toward the supposed Sheikah, and the elder would shake his head. "He too had great potential, and that is why we follow him in such dire times… but if this is the truth of his opinions of us, then surely, the leader will become a tyrant in time. If the Princess would marry him, he will only hold her back."

Again the rich rumble of laughter rang out, carelessly amused by it all, and the flash of gold grew stronger to briefly eclipse crimson. "Look to your elder, men. Hopelessness has consumed him…" reigning in this terrible joke, the Gerudo would hold hands behind his back and stand tall in the face of such accusations upon his character—too little, too late. As he quirked a brow, daring, he drew his smirk into a forced grimace to match the gravity of what he would imply.

"This is what I had warned you of. This is the state of paranoia and suspicion that threatens to take us over, with such a sinister fate looming upon the horizon. The Sage who has visited us warned of Evil's presence here already." Bandaged fingers flicked outward, gesturing to the stone walls around them.

"Malevolent spirits roam these halls, preying upon the weak and enfeebled… those of frail hearts, not unlike the Rancher who sold his and his family's souls to darkness. Once good people, decent and hardworking, left broken by tragedy and picked clean of their moralities in the struggle to reclaim their lives." He lied seamlessly, reviving the rumours that had long been whispered here. "If you agree with Dotour, then you succumb to the will of evil that would pull apart our defences one by one, if need be. Don't give into it… we must all have faith to face the times ahead, and make sacrifices to persevere."

By force of habit or fear, perhaps even in denial of the truth they knew Dotour spoke of, with their Regent's words, the crowd grew subdued. Eyes drew off and to the side, as if to look upon their opposed colleague would stain their vision and taint them as well. Heads hung in despair for a fellow lost in the haze and chaos of it all. Voices died within frail chests and the slow, subtle retreat from the elder became apparent. Themis, standing there torn between an old friend and the sovereign he served—the only man that still held the flame of hope strongly in his grasp—like a moth, quickly turned toward the light; his hand falling away from the Lord, sullen and limp by his side.

The elder's sorrow flashed across withered features as the betrayal became evident, and with parting words forming on his tongue, Lord Dotour would give a long and defeated sigh. Turning to the Sheikah once more, for the very last time, the courtier bowed his head in resignation. He would accept the Gods' designs, whatever they might be… though his prayers would be sent often, desperate that this country be delivered from an onslaught of evil. Perhaps when Zelda inherited Wisdom's gift, she would see the grave error that had been made, and rectify it accordingly.

"I cannot, and will not, clamour to be a part of any court that would toy with fate so boldly. Do as you wish, Sentinel, and may the Gods fare you with mercy and favour… for the sake of us all…" he winced, shaking his head with pathos, "But I fear Zelda's haughtiness finds its cause for reasons much more disappointing than childishness. If that is true… then you, Sheik, are no cure to it. Your arrogance will lead her further astray, and power shall corrupt you both. I shall have no part of it, if there is nothing I can do to prevent it. I can only hope the Hero finds us soon enough to put the world right once more and, with any luck, remind you of who you are and why you came to us at all."

Turning from them all—from not only the Regent who would disgrace his position with pride and power lust, but the men of court; old friends that would abandon their own to the wolves circling their posts—the elder made a dignified retreat. His steps echoed lonely within the stark and silent hall, all quiet as the shock of what had happened, and indeed the natures revealed to them, began to sink in with an awful bite. The Lord's words lingered in pointed ears a moment longer as he left them, these notions of sheep that moved to the beck and call of their shepherd, and those gathered were left to ponder the futility of fighting such a thing now were it true. It mattered not of cowardice, or honour. The Sheikah was their only conceivable avenue if they were to survive the coming darkness and see the Kingdom found peace at the end of it.

Ganondorf knew this fact all too well, and in spite, his rich timbre rolled out to fill the hall once again; drawing his faithful flock back to him.

"Gentlemen… If you would truly have me rule you as the shadows crawl over this land, regardless of doubt or protocol, then you must trust my judgement now. Zelda will be the Queen this country so sorely needs to meet this threat, and so long as I stand by her side, its people will see that. Even if it must be cast in illusion for the moment, it is your duty to hold them in such a spell…" A cruel twist took the curve of his mouth, baring the subtle flash of his canines as he flexed the leverage held over them.

"You all work for the good of the people and the stability of this nation, after all… do you not?" It was so smooth, bitter with irony and victorious, and the Gerudo knew he had them in his palm alone.

With an understanding—and thoroughly subdued—nod, Themis would signal for his cohorts to part ways with the Regent then, a few knowing glances sent the Sheikah's way as an unsure and much smaller tone left the courtier. "Of course we do… that is the purpose of this council, no matter what unfortunate circumstance befalls us otherwise, and we shall continue to serve loyally for as long as yourself and her Highness see fit to... have us. By your leave, Sire… We shall speak no more of it. I shall send for Sir Shadrian in short order."

It was no secret between them that he managed the girl better than anyone else. If there was any man to forge of the child a reasonable approximation of her father, it was her attendant, and this was part of the reason his marriage to her met with little resistance. He may temper them a fine ruler out of the wayward and impressionable Zelda, if only he was given the opportunity to influence her strongly enough where they clearly could not... their interference, it seemed, would only serve to hinder such progression. Dotour was simply wrong about where the blame lay; he had to be, or all hope was already lost.

Even as the Regent would swiftly round the corner of the corridor, his reflection a blur upon the burnished metal of the armoured suits that lined the halls, the court members were resigned to letting him assuage the Princess' unsavoury mood in privacy…

All of them were painfully aware that if he could not, their positions would likely pay the price in due course; unnecessary as they seemed to have become.

Lengthy strides allowed Ganondorf to tail her quickly, the artificial points to his ears perking to follow the softly padded sound of her steps, until he too marched through the foreboding marble archway that opened out into a high vaulted chamber. The Princess was already gone from his line of sight when he stepped out onto the cold stone, chill unhindered by the lack of carpeted runners—it was a stiflingly sparse expanse he found, as gold stained eyes roamed it.

Unassuming enough, he supposed, lined by columns and looking rather more like it was to be a dining hall, save only for the giant slab of granite placed in the center of it all, opened as it currently was to reveal a path to the secret cavity below. Cream coloured walls and plainly lacquered fixtures gave the chamber an understated look, a few portraits here and there to feign the routine normality of the Castle décor. Passing beneath him as he strode toward the downward stairway, embossed by the masons, the crest of the holy relic was laid out upon the floor; the only lonely prelude to the secret of the statue that was to reside here.

A statue of the boy, no less, to hide the weapon he had once wielded against—and now lost to—his greatest foe.

Taking one last cautious scan of the chamber as he left it behind him, the disguised Gerudo began the secretive descent, muted steps echoing out in the stillness of the air. At the bottom of them, the Princess stood waiting with her back to him, lingering upon the small plateau that split the stairs to each side of her and overlooking the misplaced scene below.

In the dim flicker of torchlight, the glow of them winking dull upon the blade, the legendary Master Sword itself stuck fast—pedestal and all—into freshly laid stone flooring, a circular design working outward from its base. Grand statues like the ideal of the knights of old towered imposingly about the blade's new resting place, massive though blunt blades of their own held at the ready as if they might come to life at any moment to defend it. As one of the nobles had mentioned, indeed it was obvious there was to be stained glasswork inlaid to the alcoves gracing the walls of this private place.

A decorative moat of water surrounded the holy weapon's perch, perfectly still and bereft of any comforting trickle. When Ganondorf finally came to a halt beside his ward, staring down at the sight with all the quiet awe of seeing such a thing firsthand, it was as if time itself had stopped with him to contain the room in its own silent realm; whitewashed and paled by the gravity of what it held.

There was no doubting what they saw, not a word between found to comment on the vision presented to them—perhaps, in that moment, both the Princess and the Gerudo King were pristinely aware of themselves as separate from any story that may have come before. Their future seemed set in stone, just as much as the Master Sword below them now did, resting weary and faded from its travels… but whatever fate that future held remained a mystery still, and neither one of them could deny the chill sweeping their spines at such a thought.

Finally, almost distractedly, Zelda's head would tilt toward him, though crystalline eyes could not be torn from the weapon below. "I'm sorry if I seem to be too bold with the court…" She offered gently, barely above a whisper, as if to speak any louder would shatter the world around them with such volume.

"I haven't forgotten what we discussed today, but I have been thinking on it as we walked. I know it probably isn't the best limb to go out on, but I don't want them to be involved too heavily where this artefact is concerned. I don't mean to deride you either, Sheik, but it's true. He did burden me with the responsibility for this decision, and all things aside, I cannot bend on that fact…"

A small sigh left her, and long lashes closed ruefully. "…I don't think I have it in me to lead his faith in me astray, as well. If I must be a disappointment to the men of court, then I refuse to become a burden upon the Gods as well. I can reassign new council members when we're in a position to do so, but I can't just wave my hand and choose the Holy Sages, after all. They choose us, not the other way around." A half hearted slip of laughter left her for it, cynical, though there was no amusement in it.

Letting his gaze linger on the familiar lines of the blade, the disguised Gerudo scarcely heard her small voice at all, haunted as he was by the ghosting memory made real once more—the delicate criss-crossing downward from the pommel over the grip, the curved sweep of the plum toned guard and the shimmer of the crystal at its hilt; silvered filigree adorning the base of the blade with a holy crest. The moment his paranoid mind recognised the very shape of it, a fleeting flutter moved him with internal aversion. Like a cold snap in the air at first, slowly thickening it within his lungs until it settled at the very bottom of his being with a faint burn, extremities feeling numb already for his proximity to the accursed sword.

Whether this was an instinctual fear, repulsion, or the magical affect of the blade itself upon his person, he couldn't be sure. Swallowing to whet his suddenly parched throat, however, the Regent tore himself away from such fixation to glance down at the comforting—and much preferred—sight of Zelda's golden tresses instead, mentally backtracking to recall what she'd just said with a small and unseen flinch in his hands.

Hinting to his internal unrest, the rich rumble he usually commanded came gravelled and rough, though quiet as thick brows furrowed to a discontented frown.

"Whatever the case, Zelda, it had better be the last of it. In this particular matter, I'll concede that keeping them at arm's length is probably best… but the manner in which you've achieved that may have very real consequences upon how soon you can simply 'reassign' their positions, as you so succinctly put it. But feel free to keep pushing their buttons for your grudge…" he mused sarcastically, scoffing some as bulky arms were folded over his chest, the deceit flowing effortlessly from him. "…If you're lucky, we may be married by the time you're thirty. We need the council's backing, and you need to impress them for it, at least for the time being."

Unbeknownst to the Princess, the reality of the disguised Gerudo's hold over the Council would ensure all things went smoothly for as long as he allowed them to—and would have disgusted Zelda were such a thing ever to come to light. She would never have expected the true power of the courtiers now rested solely with her husband to be, and he would likely never reveal it to her, sensitive as she was to being 'managed'. The withered men had very little to do with whether their marriage would go ahead and never had. In fact, puppeteered by a Regent who took joy in tugging upon such dusty strings, it seemed the Privy Council had always been fated to become little more than a sideshow, distracting Zelda from the real culprit of her miseries. Ganondorf had found it an interesting card to play thus far; pitting his ward against them, and vice versa.

Likewise, as he had discovered since becoming Regent, the paranoid old fools making up her congress were far more fearful of the whimsical Royals than the King of Evil's return. Torn between worries for a loss of influence and what may become of the country they helped govern, since the death of their King, the council was left in shambles. Their thin façade of stoicism allowed him to forge of them a shadowy monster, haunting Zelda's thoughts and staying any real attempt from her to usurp his new authority.

All things aside, it suited them well to be in his palm, rather than hers... at the very least, they knew he would ensure they kept their perch, provided they did as he pleased. They hadn't the courage to risk denying the Regent of anything now, knowing he was apparently the last reliable line of defence they had against an onslaught of evil.

But to defy such comforting thoughts whirling about his head, an idle hand drifted upward from Zelda's side, and the Princess found herself absently toying with the pendant he had given her, distractingly.

Fingertips caressing the glassy stone with affection, a fey smile whispered faintly across her lips. "Don't worry for that too much. Everything seems to be going to plan; I doubt very much of anything will truly stir them to delaying it…" She mused thoughtfully, a knowing gleam to her eye that caught his suspicions. "Once it's announced to the public, there will be little even the Council can do, whether I please them or not."

A distasteful click of his tongue sounded then, and eyeing her from the corner of his vision, the disguised Gerudo grimaced. "That's bordering on cocky, Zelda, to rely on the uproar of peasants to get your way…" he mused roughly, instantly cursing her for such airy disregard—perhaps the Council's worries were not entirely unfounded, he conceded internally, empathetic for them in the difficulty the girl presented sometimes.

With a light roll of his shoulders, he muttered low; spiteful. "…Still clinging to your broken pieces, then, despite my warnings not to…"

Perhaps the usefulness of holding the court against her had passed, after all. He knew he certainly didn't care for them, and if both he and Zelda were to wash their hands of the old men, then so be it. It wasn't as if it would make a liar of him any more than he was at present—not that his track record with royal musicians was much better.

No matter, he corrected himself mentally; they've served their purpose well enough already. The Sword is an ample replacement to bargain with, for her behaviour from here on out…Yes, the Hero himself makes for a far better subject for worry, especially with him' missing in action', as it were. The longer we have the blade and nobody to wield it, the more desperate she'll become. I've stripped her of the want to be an 'individual' already… now, to destroy the blossoming Queen…

Zelda continued—unaware of his vile thoughts—with a gentle and humble lilt, resting a hand gently upon the wooden banister before her. "Out of all the terrible things Hyrule has seen… having the voice of its peoples be ignored so callously has not been one of them, when under the rule of my family. I am thankful for that, if nothing else, in what it might herald for our reign." Tilting her head to face him, the beauty in her delicate features seemed dimmed to match the atmosphere of the chamber about them, stolen by weariness.

"The people's wants can often change, when their lives are at stake…" with a careful, if not foreboding glance, the Regent would warn her once more. "Your rebelliousness has reached its limits, Zelda. As I've already told you once today, these childish things must be put away. The risk is far too great for you to be bucking necessity; your carelessness will cost us precious time and progress."

A sullen, perhaps whitewashed, maturity wavered about her small form as they stood upon the stone platform, overlooking the very key to their fate. "It may be a risk, but… while I'm sorry for leading them astray so far, to change completely simply to calm everyone, I feel, would be of no more help. Not if it is to be some hollow effigy for an absent personality. How much security can one take from a counterfeit Queen, any more than a child, when it comes to the King of Evil's return? You said he would snatch the crown away from one—what difference is the other?"

Wincing for it all, he sighed, shaking his head. Gold stained eyes darted about the ornate masonry of the ceiling, and bandaged hands tightened into pensive fists; jaw tensed as he listened. He refused to look upon her. He didn't want to see the image of her ancestor taking hold in those moments…

No, more than that. The very thought scared him now, invested as he was in her.

"Without Wisdom, my decisions can only be as good as they are currently. I won't try to be rebellious, Sheik, but I doubt I can truly change anymore either, until whatever my sixteenth year holds. I know I can be a capable Queen by my own merits. It may not be exactly what they expected… I will never be my father… but I will be enough. I need to protect and provide for what is important to me, and I need to start learning how to do that now." She offered softly, something demure in her voice slowly building force until it became confident, as if the more she said, the more sure of it she became. "You don't need to keep drawing the attention from me any more; I won't disappoint them if they truly look"

The Princess seemed content in her delusion of 'reassuring' him—no doubt she thought he was being 'squashed' under the scrutiny of her council, and with a grimace he hissed aside. "You and I are not a curtain hiding away a sideshow, Zelda. You've simply have no real experience as yet… I am taking the lead because I know how to handle these things, and more than that, the people that bring them upon us. Of course you will be a capable Queen…" he conceded evasively, his gaze avoiding hers, and she saw his biceps twitch beneath the skin tight garb nervously.

Cautious, and straining to hide any doubt from it, he added quickly, "…When you are ready. A little more time to prepare yourself; I will bring you along in due course."

A small and inquisitive twitch of pointed ears responded to the light echo of his voice off of the cold stone, ponderous of how it sounded, but the faint smile she wore grew into a cynical smirk as her gaze turned to find him there. "You've never been one to be caught out of the loop of those around you. I'd like to be more like that… if only it were allowed to me."

The disguised Gerudo could've rolled his eyes, her name sighed with an exhausted hanging of his head. "Zelda…"

But with a higher pitch to over cut him, she continued to interrupt. "You already make a fine ruler with a faithful ear to this country's needs… just as you have to mine. The Council is desperate to re-establish any stability and sense of security they can for the people, even if it can't be completely assured for the moment, and you present them with that opportunity. Whether they want me or not, they won't pass by the chance to have you, Sheik. The wedding will go ahead despite whatever they might say otherwise; trust me on that."

Visibly soothed by such praises, the scowl he wore lessened some, and reluctantly, the Regent let softer attention linger upon her features. It was a reassuring thing, at least, that regardless of circumstance, Zelda still held fast to the notion that he would rule beside her.

A thoughtful tensing of his jaw hinted to his want to say something more of the matter, but despite his nigh unreadable expression, Zelda knew what she'd said would placate any of his previous annoyance with her. The sweetness of her soft smile willed it to be so, as a finger tapped the precious stone of her necklace. An evasive hum rolled from his throat for it as he searched for the words he wanted, his ire slowly slipping away with a wag of his jaw.

"No… I suppose they are too desperate now to deny either of us…" he conceded slowly, a tick at the corner of his mouth hinting of a smirk—oh, if only she knew how true that was, and how promising for what he'd planned. Drawing slow breath, he paused, tearing his gaze from her to look downward to the sword once more, wistful as he stared. "Even so… our earlier discussions still stand. You'll still have to mind yourself a little better in future, steeped in old traditions as the gentry tend to be, Zelda. It isn't just the council's opinions that can sway the loyalty of your people. Noble gossip is often more potent than Royal speech."

Not that that fact will ever change, he supposed, "But for the most part, you're correct. Our plan is unfolding nicely. The blade is in our keep and we are well on track… for now. There is much work to be done as yet, however… let us just hope there are no more surprises."

A furrowing of delicate brows darkened her visage with worry, and Zelda's gaze fell briefly as she thought on what she'd witnessed of her fiancé's rapport with her court. Carefully, and swallowing some of her earlier bitterness, she drew tentative breath. Perhaps the time had come to tell him? No… There was still too many things pressing upon their attentions at present. Even so, the tears she'd shed earlier had not been entirely for selfish reasons. She may have silently given up on being the person she'd wished to be, but that didn't mean she couldn't become a person she had once adored. The Princess was evidently ill matched at filling her father's shoes—Sheik seemed to fit them perfectly, however, regardless of how that worried her.

But it was her mother's footsteps, now that she had thought on it, which seemed to suit her best.

Surprises…her mind positively reeled at that, heart sinking low within her chest. I can't tell him now. I'm not even truly sure of it myself; early as it is…perhaps I might wait until the wedding? No, he'll have to know before that, I can't keep it from him for so long. It wouldn't be right…but then… If I am to be more like Mother, and he will take the role my Father played…I need to know we won't make the same mistakes.

"I need you to promise me something." She said suddenly, satin gloved fingers curling protectively—hopefully—around the pendant; the gift that marked her womanhood.

A fleeting glance was given before the disguised Gerudo would raise a brow, a patient and inquisitive hum beckoning her to continue as he caught those familiar tics of hers once again. Ah, good. That's much better, he noted as he saw her fidgeting with the necklace. Indeed, she did seem suddenly pensive of something, an uncertainty flashing across her lowered gaze.

"I… can't help but notice the way you command the court. It's very similar… well, I mean to say that you seem to emulate… or… rather, you remind me of…" she really did not want to say it out loud, fumbling over the words nervously for how he may take them.

Thankfully, the Regent seemed to read her thoughts instead, a disquieting chuckle rumbling from his throat as he offered to finish it for her, a cynical and knowing curve upon his lips. "…Your father?"

Upon hearing it her ears perked, crystalline eyes snapping up towards him with a want to meet and search his, but the supposed Sheikah's attention fixed fast upon the Master Sword instead. Subtle confusion flashed across her, gaze wavering upon his worn features, but with an accepting blink, she gave a saddened smile; golden tresses swaying to a silent nod.

"Zelda, my Sweet… I take up the role of a King with all seriousness, but I serve you regardless. You mustn't become jealous that I have other duties to attend now, besides you as well." He smiled to himself, a small tingle of pride welling in his chest—it was endearing that she demanded his utmost of attention, even now, clinging to it desperately as if she couldn't breathe without him there.

Delicate features grew pained for a moment, as his words had stabbed into her chest with cruel irony; pale skin prickled to the sound of them. "Sheik, please. That's not entirely what I…" she trailed off to chew her bottom lip, worrisome, but her eyes remained closed to him when her fiancé continued on, tentative about whatever had bothered her.

"I know you do not wish to be managed by me as your father had made a habit of doing. But the council require constant management to function properly. Without somebody to lead them, they would be useless and idle; a mess of cowards quivering in their seats. I don't mean to ignore you, but they are comparable to children and do need constant supervision if they are to behave in a way that doesn't jeopardise what we've planned… and you don't much like dealing with them yourself. Besides which, they don't seem to take you very seriously, unfortunate as that is."

At that, however, charmingly given as it may have been, Zelda returned only a light frown. Icy pink lips twisted with a want to chastise how callously set aside she had been in most affairs of late, though somehow seemed to be the centre of most of it. Gathering her nerves and biting the inside of her cheek, she turned her head back to the sword below.

"Have you not been listening to me?" she snapped suddenly, regretting how it sounded and forcing herself to soften immediately. "…Just because I don't care for them or might replace them, doesn't mean I shouldn't be given the opportunity to right their perceptions of me in the meantime. You say I must be a beacon of light to guide everyone, but how can I do that if they already follow you completely? I'm not allowed to be myself, so the only option left to me for now is to be what is needed and I intend to do that, but it seems nobody wants me to do that either. They flock to you no matter how I act… It's more than obvious that my authority is being pushed to the wayside as much as possible in favour of yours, in their paranoia..."

The annoyance that she had smiled away beforehand seemed to return as she went on, thick brows knitting together in disapproval though Ganondorf tailored it as best he could toward confusion. She was, of course, right in what she was saying… but once again, these were notions he should have already broken her of by now. Increasingly, the girl was no longer so easy to placate—his dishonesty with her was tenuous, fluctuating between veiled truths and outright deceit. But like any girl growing steadily into a woman, the Princess became more complex by the day.

His pride for that growth was matched by the pains she brought with it. But since the tears she'd shed this evening, somewhere between that hopeless last sob and the arrival of the blade they stood before now, something had changed again already within the pale Princess. Perhaps it had been hidden there privately since this morning, and the day before, slowly brought forward to the very surface by the stresses. Dancing across her crystalline gaze, he thought he saw it there, haunting him with the ghost of an era passed—the girl was indeed wise, born to her role. Stray as she might, he could never strip her of such a beautiful mind, and it would always continue on its way, with or without him.

Ganondorf knew he could no longer take back the momentum gained since he'd given her the first little push. Zelda was running barefoot ahead of him in the mists of the unknown, faster and further along with each day, and he could only ever hope to slow her enough to keep pace.

With a tired sigh, gold flecked eyes closed and he brought bandaged fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as he spoke. "Zelda, really…" he muttered, sounding disappointed more than annoyed. His hand shifted, curling to hold his chin betwixt thumb and forefinger as he levelled the Princess with a long stare. "I thought we talked about this…"

At the gesture though, crystalline eyes widened with horror and frantic to catch him red handed, she turned to point at him accusingly. "There! Right there…!" she cried suddenly, breaking him of it with a bemused blink as she frowned upward at her fiancé, hand withdrawing to be held with the other at her hips. "That's exactly what my father used to say! You even pinch your nose! This is what I'm talking about, Sheik, ever since you've become Regent; you're just like him! It's like we've all gone full circle back to me being seen and not heard, only meant to trail behind and look the part while you and the council get along just fine without me…"

That is the idea, yes, the Gerudo's mind hissed internally, teeth grinding as he fought the urge to roll his eyes—she was selectively observant, it seemed, when there were others about him to compare behaviours with. I knew this father complex of hers would rear its head soon… such is the pitfall of youthful brides, I suppose.

"I'm just like him…? I suppose that's suddenly a bad thing—once again—though this morning you seemed perfectly happy to emulate your Father yourself, Zelda. What, is the similarity only a poor one when I wear it, or are you grasping at straws because you want to weasel around what I told you today?" inclining his head to glare down at her, the Regent shifted slightly away from the Princess, eager to put some distance between them for the arising spat—she could shriek like a banshee when upset and offended.

"None of them even seemed to notice my presence until I upset the peace… and it wasn't as if you had done anything to point me out!" She spat like a cat in water, cold though she held back most of the bitterness. "I should have been the one they addressed and answered to in the halls, and though I appreciate your want to lessen my burdens and all Sheik, if they—or anyone—are ever to 'take me seriously' then you need to stand aside and let me try to lead them! If they still scoff at me, then step in and redirect them rather than just take over! They listen to you; tell them to listen to me also. Make room enough for me to join you all and learn, instead of trying to shelter me from my failures, and we'll all be happier for it!"

Stepping aside some, he snorted derisively back to her with a damning sneer. "I lead them where you still cannot. You should be grateful to know such care and patience! I have persuaded the council to leniency on your behalf many times, Zelda, but you are swiftly leaving me out of excuses! This is why I took you aside today; this is why I must be frank with you. I keep covering for you to shield them from the fact you are not yet ready! When Wisdom graces you, then you can lead them in good faith. For the moment, I will teach and prepare you, but you must be content with the level of command that may leave you."

Matching his sour looks, her delicate features twisted into a dark frown and conviction was evident in her voice to spite him. "Then make the effort to do so instead of ignoring me as I trail forgotten at the back! You are my shadow, I am not yours…!"

In no mood for such pleas or lectures—and wary of such talk from her in the first place—it was little wonder that, when again he spoke, it was a rather waspish snap she received. Gold stained eyes tore to catch hers and lock upon them, narrowed by the flash of temper as he rounded on her and took an imposing step forward.

"And what do you suppose having you actually attend court this morning was, then? Did I not prepare you, getting rid of that ridiculous cape and guiding you through the proceedings so as not to disgrace yourself with inexperience? Did you not learn how to conduct such meetings, and what is expected within them from a Queen? Would you rather waltz in, clueless and small, looking like a child who had brought their blanket in with them for comfort by draping it around their shoulders?"

Though she bristled slightly at the mention of the cape, Zelda's ire seemed to fade softly into sorrow as her frown left her and the ghost of mournfulness settled there instead. Quietly, she looked away from him, bare toes curling beneath her skirts. "…Or a girl waltzing in from a festival covered in grass and toffee stains? Or is it more like trying to get a daughter to put their shoes back on, instead of embarrassing herself in front of pleasant company?"

Taken aback by it as he was, the Regent drew back to stand straight with only a frustrated and surprised look, before tearing his gaze away evasively and clicking his tongue to refute such claims. Private though it was between them, both had grown to hate the comparisons to be made between the Regent and the late King.

"…No, Zelda…" He ground out slowly, knowing full well she had cornered him this time as he glared down at the sword. Even so, he endeavoured to save as much face as he could, despite her. "…Only a man desperate to marry you, and scrape together some semblance of contentment. Forgive me for being overprotective of the one precious thing that holds my life and sanity intact." It almost sounded sarcastic as he spat it harshly, but it was genuine nonetheless.

She couldn't know the irony of that, but Ganondorf no longer knew how to measure the truth of such a statement—privately, he spoke of his true intentions. Deeper, however, to match how she would take it, it reflected how attached to her he'd become.

The sentiment buried in such words was not lost on her, either, and the Princess softened further for it. A moment passed between them, terse and silent, as old memories lingered strong within the chamber—a chamber of their histories, truly. Still clutching the pendant as if her whole world was suspended within its fragile gem, daintily hung about her neck, Zelda's eyes closed to remember.

"On the morning after Talleday was murdered…" she began softly, her anger subdued, "…we made lanterns together and released them to the wind, honouring those we'd lost and a future that would be forged in their names. Do you remember?"

Gruff and somewhat dismissive—unhelpful to him as he knew that attitude may be—he scoffed quietly. Under the weight of the silence she left him, though, reluctantly he gave his glaring reply.

"Of course I do." He muttered then, a hateful scowl cast down toward the girl. "What of it?"

Tired eyes opened in a flash to capture his, locking with them and staring him down. "Then what did you say to me that day when we released them?" it tore the slightest flinch from him, put on the spot for information carelessly given at the time—Zelda watched gold-flecked eyes widen, the wheels spinning within his head, and held her ground unwaveringly. With a click of her tongue, she returned him with much the same cold expectancy he offered her of late, arching a brow. "Shall I remind you?"

Damn her, that was years ago…! He could've throttled her for such a thing, bordering on emotional blackmail as it was.

His mind searched for the words from that day; Ganondorf tore apart lie after lie, looking for the right one out of all that he had given. There were so many now, he could barely organise them anymore, plucking excuses and false reasoning from the very air and words around him as they were needed. Unblinkingly she stared, and though neither of them would relent, he chanced his way around it to feign memory instead.

With a distasteful grimace creasing lines either side of his mouth, he simply offered, "…That was a very emotional and busy day Zelda. We talked at length, and I would never forget the importance of what we shared… but to bring it up now is rather worrying. Your bitterness for your father might have been justified, but with the similarities you're drawing between him and I, now…" trailing off, lending her a suspicious squint, he hoped that might suffice.

But with the briefest flicker of hurt swimming in the blue of her eyes as they wavered upon him then, the Gerudo's throat grew dry—he had missed his mark, he knew. A rare miss, but one that would cost him, and he felt his heart double its pace for it as the Princess looked away with a light shake of her head.

"I don't wish for you to change, you said… You already possess all the qualities you shall ever need to…" Something scared him about the light sway of her golden tresses, the disappointed sorrow that lay muted upon the curve of her icy pink lips as she spoke, so quietly he scarcely heard her. "Regardless of what the council, or my father, may have thought and expected of an heir, you believed that if I submit to their way of thinking, I would sell my potential short…" her gaze was distant as it traced the holy outline of the blade below, and the Regent held his breath—he recalled those words all too clearly now.

By Gods, how crisp the memory seemed now that it had been uncovered so perfectly, word for word, pristine and untouched as it flowed from her mind… and there, Ganondorf found himself placed in a bewilderment, staring at the one who would worship him so as to repeat his words years later without error. She had sucked the very wind from his lungs with them, leaving him silent and humbled—it was no lie he had fed her then. Once upon a time, so easily, such a thing had been true.

The thick silver of his brows furrowed as he tasted an apology upon his tongue and swiftly swallowed it, the dry and salty taste reminding him how far they had extended themselves to keep this hand in play. Inclining his head slowly, he found the want to breathe again, sucking the air through his teeth and bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck considerately.

Cautiously, just as he felt the lightest flutter of guilt lining his stomach for her pains, the feeble ghost of his voice lingered at the back of his throat desperate to reveal why he had to drag her through this all. But the silver serpent that lay waiting behind his teeth offered its poison once again, striking too fast for him to stop it. Still, he would remain locked behind his façade… and if that was what was required of him, so be it. He would allow her no more reprieve than himself.

"…That is just as true now as it was then, Zelda, for the person that you are… but you cannot remain so unchanged that you view life through the eyes of the child I said that to. You do have all the qualities you need, and I do not wish for you to become different like your father… but I, and indeed your country, require that you grow. We are expanding on what you are, and the very best of who you will be. We simply need to do that sooner than I anticipated, and for that… I apologise, but I too have had to put away many things of myself in our struggles."

"I know you have, Sheik… But I am so very tired of it. Things will not stay this way for much longer, and I need you to be aware of that. I only ask that how we act now will not dictate the norm to come later, and we both have to re-evaluate how this will all balance out if we're to be married soon."

With a heavy sigh, Zelda took this all in with a grim countenance, somewhat defeated in their short battle—it was an emotional impasse reached in an argument that could only resolve itself with time. She could only pray these things were temporary setbacks to their happiness.

"I need you to promise me. You swore to me once before, at my Father's funeral, that you would always be at my side and live for my sake… but if we are to marry, now, I need one more pledge. Please, Sheik, no matter what happens, don't ever let the crown—in any form—outweigh or turn aside your love for me or what we have together, just as I would never do that to you. Swear it upon this very sword; before the Gods as they look down on us in this moment, and will the line of fate to align to your word… as I do."

As the disguised Gerudo turned his head to peruse the reverent scene before them at her behest, tracing the outline of a blade that had once felled him, the Princess took note of the distant melancholy darkening his rough features with interest. Crystalline eyes glanced downward to the Sword as well, and she still found it surreal—understated, it almost didn't match her expectations to behold, and yet even she could feel the light hum of magic resonating from the tempered metal. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, having almost expected the glow of it to blind and the aura it commanded to be so powerful, the faintest hairs upon the back of your neck would rise to it… though somehow, they found it a humble thing instead, quiet and controlled. It was a holy anomaly that seemed to empty all the space around it, yet did nothing to announce itself more than any other well-crafted weapon.

Even the wings of its guard were folded inward like a bird of prey at rest, apparently slumbering until it was called for the hunt once more, unlike the pictures she had seen of it scribed into books of old where they were splayed in full flight for the battle…

Ganondorf, too, took note of the folded hilt and the faded glow of the crystal laid into it—to his familiar eye, it was clear the mighty weapon had been weakened, much to the Gerudo's relief. Badon had been successful in his second task, it seemed. Certainly, it was refreshing to know that the brute could actually read. As he reflected upon the written instructions he had left to the new captain upon sending him on this sordid quest, alongside a carefully detailed map, he found himself impressed by Valenzuela's apparent capability.

The Kokiri were hard enough come by as things stood, having retreated far into the forests and nearing the very southernmost borders of the Kingdom… one of them stayed close to attend duty, however, and despite his doubts about the barrel-chested Badon, it seemed the Hunter's reputation held some water after all. Even with the aid of dark magic to fuel his abilities, it took quite a bit of skill, he conceded, to find and murder a sage.

Only upon that detail did he find the courage to pledge to her, calculating the odds in his head and weighing the harm in one more white lie to her, if not the very last. The Gods knew him far too well now to expect any less—he must've held their favour to get this far, as things were. They beckoned such deceit; another promise he simply couldn't keep… not in its entirety. He would always be fond of her. His life would seem hollow hereafter, were she not to be part of it. His days would be filled with sad and unsure patches where the vexatious Princess once resided; the memory of her scent flooding these cold and empty halls and every piece of gold tarnished forever as he compared them to the lustre of her hair.

She may well stand on equal footing with his old desires, now… but he knew, deep down, that even she would never truly be above them.

No more than a whisper, perhaps the humblest words to ever leave him, he prayed he would never be forced to break it by fate forcing him to choose. "…That promise was set in motion the day you entered the world, Zelda. Nothing will ever be more important to me than you. You know that… It is you and I against the world."

With the comfort of those words, the Princess' smile returned, her fingers seeking to caress the pendant once again—his gift to her. A symbol of their love, which would endure the very worst this world had to offer. It simply had to for the secret she held from him… but she would hold it just a bit longer still, until they could be alone with nothing to distract them.

The timing was surprising, but she could only hope they would be safe with the Master Sword here to protect them, and a Hero stirring to its call from afar. She could hide her surreptitious wonder for a while yet, until she was sure of it… So far, all the nuances and natural happenings of a woman's body had been gleaned to her from the dusty pages of vague and overly polite books. It was ironic perhaps, that from the scared and unsure girl that had suspected poison upon the first day of her womanhood, she had since become attentive and familiar enough with her function to recognise the earliest signs of pregnancy.

Nobody would question it when the time came that it was both confirmed and finally revealed, cemented by the marriage to hide otherwise ill-fitting circumstance, followed by what would be easily passed off as a premature birth from the mother's young age.

"…My father was a brilliant King, and in that way your ability to match him is nothing short of wonderful… but it came at the cost of a father. I refuse lose my husband to such a thing as well, Sheik. That is why I need these things to change, if it truly is us against the world."

…Not only for my sake, but for the child who will need the father I never had, her mind echoed quietly, her smile wavering some for the thought—There is so much more at stake now to worry for, than just you and I… I can't have you shoulder every burden of mine, so that you miss your own child's life unfold while you manage a Kingdom. We must share the duty, so that we both can be present enough, when they enter the world we'll have saved for them.

Silence reigned for a few minutes, peaceful and still all around them as if to console such thoughts. Danger seemed so far away from her in that moment, as if it were all no more than a nightmare that had dissipated upon waking. Standing within the presence of the Holy Sword, the shadows looming on the horizon were lost to the comforting shroud of hope to blind her to them, blocking them out and lending respite from the worry.

Distracted by the calm grace it quietly commanded, Zelda found herself whispering with a dreamy though thoughtful blink, content to leave her worries be for the moment. "It must have been quite a long time now, since last you laid eyes upon the legendary Bane of Evil…" she offered softly, curious of the potential nostalgia it might stir in her fiancé for the odd expressions he wore.

In the dim flicker of shadow the torchlight cast, Ganondorf found a hint of humour in that. A rueful chuckle murmured in the back of his throat as his head nodded forward, gold stained eyes closing to the twisted and bittersweet comfort gained by the sight of it all. Perhaps a half truth would suffice, silently grateful for the opportunity to express his genuine reaction in some form for her unwavering trust.

"No amount of time I go without seeing it could seem quite long enough, Zelda… in this very instant as it graces my eye once again, it is as if no time has passed at all. But that is not something I celebrate. Honestly, I quite despise that feeling..."

Delicate brows furrowed toward him as he turned from her then, slow—almost reluctant—strides guiding him down stone steps and away from her side. Compelled by habit to follow, Zelda stared after him a moment, confusion playing subtly upon her features as she too moved to join him in the descent.

"But is it not a good thing? You are the one who proposed it be moved in the first place, Sheik, and even with my worry for it, you persuaded me to such precaution... You make it sound as if it is regrettable; this should be a triumph, and a great mark upon history! We've taken fate by its horns and steered it to our benefit! How could you possibly not wish to celebrate that?" her voice resounded about the small chamber more harshly than his did, almost making her wince for the echo returned to them.

"There is no comfort for me to find in the salvation of such a Blade as that one... it is the harbinger of an ancient war reborn, after all." he mused, hiding his aversion to it as best he could and lending false justification to what did show through.

Undeterred and trying desperately to cheer him from his sudden morose, the Princess caught up enough to match his strides, reaching to gently brush his hand with warmth. "…A war that we will win. Don't you go and lose your nerve now that we're this far... If I am not allowed to falter, then don't think I'll let your anxieties flare up either."

She sent him a small smile, a reassuring thing, and much to Zelda's private joy she gained a glance from him as her fingers curled about his. "I know I've had my doubts, and I may not always be happy about what we must do in the meantime... but I know whatever must happen for us to prevail is the right thing. There's no need for you to feel as if you've made the wrong decision, or take to heart that we've been blasphemous..."

With a light shake of his head, the disguised Gerudo sighed, a busy day and a lack of sleep playing upon his weary mind. "On the contrary, Zelda... I wouldn't have set about this task if I didn't trust that it was the best thing. I'm only sorry for the tensions it seems to have wrought between us of late." he returned soothingly, taking a moment to squeeze her hand lightly as if to remind her that, no matter their difficulties, she still held his affection.

"As am I, Sheik… We've not had it easy, that's very true. But we have to trust that things will smooth themselves out now, and make efforts to help it all along." She returned him gently, regaining some of her former grace as she moved beside him.

As the two of them came to pass the lowest step, a slim bridge of stone between them and the last few steps upwards to the pedestal, the pair came to pause there. To the side of them, calm water presenting their pristine reflections, pensive glances turned to view them. Ganondorf made the effort then to soften himself further with a cynical and fleeting smirk.

"The truth of it is, my Sweet, that this sword will always inspire regret within me... dragging out the memory of a time and experience I would rather never recall, given the choice. The branded symbol of an era that brought far more suffering than gain, and though having it here is certainly a boon to us... it is also to be a burden. Bittersweet, I suppose... But I wouldn't expect you to truly understand that, bereft of the memories yourself. The shroud of glory often draped upon the past may seem enchanting, but for me it is a... somewhat painful and grief inspiring memento in what it whispers of the past... and of things to come."

Things that cannot be allowed to unfold this time around, he amended internally, grimacing as glanced down at his reflection—on he barely recognised as himself, and yet, the image of a Sheikah staring back at him seemed more familiar now than the Gerudo. Thick brows furrowed at the image, and he noted the crimson gaze flecked with fiery gold, wondering how long it had been there; slimly hidden slivers of his true self as they were.

Unlike the paranoid panic that should've crawled down his spine at the sight however, he found only a strange sense of consolation. Surely, his ward had seen them, yet she was clearly unperturbed by the odd hue. Such a thought bode well with him.

Soon... a maddened voice at the back of his mind whispered it so sweetly, the ghost of his smile returned.

"Whatever it whispers of the past," tilting her head to smile at him through their reflections, the image of her peaceful and quiet upon the water's edge, Zelda's crystalline eyes seemed to steal their colour from the liquid itself. "You should take comfort in what it would say of our future. This is what we've worked for, after all. This is the first mark of true progress…" she mused comfortingly, smiling softly as she did.

Echoing the words that had left Link not an hour beforehand, never knowing the eerie chill such coincidence could bring her, Zelda let the very last of her fears begin to slip while in the comfort of the man she loved—the man she may have conceived a child with.

"We're on the right path."

"Right you are, Zelda." it came sudden, foreign as it bounced around the chamber from the entrance, a chipper tone far louder than the footsteps they had not heard. "Though I must say, the beauty of this sword far pales in comparison to the joy I feel for seeing you smiling that way again.".

As the royals turned to the sound of it—Zelda caught by surprise to brighten in the dull light, and the disguised Gerudo casting a wary frown the scholar's way for being disturbed—both caught sight of the wiry intellectual standing at the foot of the first set of stairs. Garbed in harlequin socks and neat purple attire, bow-tied with a book under his arm and a dagger held neatly within its pages, Sir Shadrian stood adjusting rounded glasses. As he peered down toward the couple with a fond gleam to his eye, a small chuckle slipped past an agreeable smile and, unbothered by the silence that greeted him, the old man tilted his head.

"I do hope I'm not disturbing anything, but you see… I simply couldn't resist. Old habits, and what not... I'm no Hero, but I assure you, that blade calls to me all the same."

The Princess seemed to melt into a giggle, charmed by the one member of court she would ever truly admire, and waved a satin gloved hand to welcome him further as she sent her smile his way instead. "No, not at all, Shad... I'm glad you're here." almost excitable at the sight of him, she changed immediately to sweet and naïve seeming mirth, though as near as her fiancé could tell, it was exaggerated somewhat; put on for show so that Sir Shadrian would not catch onto her worries. "Come, join us! The view is spectacular."

Ganondorf, however, continued to hold his sudden reticence, a lazy glare following the scholar's every move as arms crossed defensive over his broad chest once more. He made no move to be as welcoming as his ward, though oddly, it seemed nobody noticed such stifled hostility.

How long have you been standing there, you sly old fool? Somewhere in the back of his mind, a slim and unforeseen respect for the man bloomed—the silent approach and apparent eavesdropping betrayed some skill that the Thief could appreciate, and he suddenly wondered how well used that dagger was. Even so, the intrusion was far too hasty for his liking, and though such ability to evade his notice was indeed noteworthy, it was a rather worrying thing when accounting for Sir Shadrian's interest in—and sway over—the Princess.

Silently cursing Themis, the supposed Sheikah cocked his head upward in a sign of belligerent acknowledgement as the scholar moved to descend. His grimace seemed to grow more evident with every step the man took.

Even as he made his way down, the enthused bounce in Shad's steps were somehow muted against the stone, a quick succession of bobbing carrying the scholar to Zelda's side as beckoned. He would only stop when he contrasted the dark Sheikah on the other with his light and happy nature. A dutiful nod given, Shadrian placed a proud hand upon Zelda's shoulder—a gesture which saw the Gerudo bite his tongue as a jealous and possessive fire leapt to life in his stomach—before turning a bespectacled gaze toward the holy Sword in respect and awe of its presence.

Silence reigned once again, as the Royals soon followed the scholar's gaze, all attention drawn to the consuming and yet somehow understated weapon in their midst. A thousand words unsaid drifted in the still air as the trio of reflections lay splayed upon on the water, and an audibly content exhale left the elder in reverence.

Softening to match the atmosphere, as if the sight sucked all the volume from his optimistic voice, Shad was the first to gently break it, his hand squeezing the girl's shoulder fondly. "...Your father would have loved to see this, Zelda. Wherever his spirit rests, I should think it would be smiling down upon you."

His glance would shift behind his glasses toward her profile, before Zelda's own smile drifted towards him in turn, and the close friendship seemed all too evident to the Gerudo beside them—a tender, private thing of which he held no part. A connection Zelda had forged in secrecy with another and held to dearly. A voice other than his own to which she listened... and a loop from which he had been carefully excluded.

Refusing to witness the looks they shared, he scowled ahead at the sword, golden eyes flaring bright with silent fury as bandaged fingers tightened to grip large biceps. Not all of the council was in his palm—Dotour at the very least had the decency to leave him to his own, taking no more part in things and resigning himself to watching as it all unfolded. Sir Shadrian, he reminded himself, was an ever present free radical, just as protected by Zelda's favour as he had once been.

Seeding the antidotes to my poisons where he can, no doubt; the very thought left Ganondorf livid, a sneer creeping across his features unseen by the pair. Perhaps he had overlooked the details lending to Zelda's odd behaviours recently—she had ingratiated herself with the Royal orchestra, making use of her Father's baton to conduct, and he had allowed this. A steadying hobby he thought may temper her moods and calm her with some short respite from what duties she did act upon; harmless enough. But with a narrow lidded side glance cast toward Sir Shadrian, as the Gerudo heard Zelda whisper humble thanks to his comment, he recalled dangerously that the scholar was also a part of that orchestra, or at least, what remained of it.

Not to mention a close friend of her father's, since youth...

The amount of time the Princess spent with the scholar of late had risen dramatically, and it coincided almost perfectly with her rebellious attitude, seemingly cropping up out of nowhere to blind-side him... Realistically, Ganondorf knew little of Shadrian's opinions of him, or how much Zelda might have confided in him about what he had otherwise expected to be entirely private affairs. Secrets which when shared, he knew, would paint a very different picture of the 'Sheikah' to any who might hear them. He did not know the scholar well enough to guess at his reactions or approval, or even what kind of advice the man might give to console and aid his wayward Princess.

Perhaps the source of his trouble lay with one last loose end the Gerudo had as yet ignored to tie.

And at that bitter and disquieting realisation, a decisive squint would narrow golden eyes further, glare burning a harsh and distant reflection within the sheen of the holy blade.

Well, let's just see how useful the skinny bastard can be to a King, instead of a girl, over the coming months.

Clearing his throat to interrupt the little exchange, the Regent's attitude shifted to a more amicable one, resentment hidden as he schooled his rough features into a more diplomatic expression and inclined his head to address the scholar. "In any case, it is good to see Themis' reluctance in summoning you didn't hold you away too long." he lied, twisting the truth advantageously as he forced a chuckle. "I was beginning to worry you had gotten lost in your excitement."

Attention drifting to the Regent with a blink, Shad took thin fingers to the rim of his glasses, adjusting them studiously as Zelda smiled still between them. He looked amused at that, but conceded with a nod. "Indeed, I dare say I was very nearly tripping over myself when I received the news. Poor old Themis ran across me in the hall, rushing like a madman as I was. Why, I almost bowled him over in passing, but he did indeed call after me to say you'd be expecting me."

As the Princess stifled another giggle, simply torn from her as they were when in Shad's presence, Ganondorf found it exceptionally difficult to feign humour for the inconvenience of it all. That explains the prompt arrival, then... the Gerudo hissed internally, damning the gossiping nobility for their lack of anything better to do. Still, fighting to keep his brow from knitting into the scowl it so wanted to be, he inclined his head with a thoughtful click of his tongue.

"Your enthusiasm is not unwarranted... this is certainly an acquisition to be glad for." he offered curtly, biting the inside of his cheek as Zelda's crystalline gaze flickered his way with empathy, knowing now how the sight also burdened him. Drawing a slow breath he continued, returning attention to the elder.

"But I would hope it doesn't cloud your appraisal. I can confirm it to be the genuine blade, but I am curious as to your thoughts on the matter, Sir Shadrian..." the upward twitch of his brow signalled something of a challenge, subtle and superior as golden eyes were set toward the sword once more, arms still neatly folded upon his chest. "...After all, your love of history and study of ancient lore is a refreshing thing to stumble upon, in this day and age. How does it feel to lay eyes on the real thing, instead of some dusty old illustration?"

If it came off in a tone that reflected in anyway the rather haughty thought that, while Shadrian's studies were admirable, the Gerudo had not only witnessed but actively created much of the history he so feverishly pondered, no reaction to it could be gleaned from the scholar's wrinkled features. Zelda's attention sharpened upon her fiance's features for a moment, the hint of jealous superiority caught by her pointed ears, but Ganondorf rather flatly ignored it. She knew well enough by now that, in terms of who among them was better versed in Hyrule's past, Shadrian's books did not hold a candle to the supposed Sheikah's first-hand experiences.

But as the wiry scholar regarded this question, looking over the legendary blade with a squint as he held one rim of his spectacles, the quiet awe so evident upon wrinkled features began to fade, swiftly replaced by the furrowing of his brow. "...Rather troubling, actually." he mused unexpectedly, seemingly distracted by the last steps as he glanced down quickly to ponder them, sizing up the gap still left between himself and the sword. "Just a moment..." he offered suddenly, and much to the Princess' surprise, the sprightly man gave an agile, if not slightly unbalanced, series of bounds upward to land unsteadily upon the stone waiting on the other side.

A tug to straighten his clothes was the only delay the scholar gave in which Ganondorf could regret his subtle jibe, though judging by the determined and fascinated strides to aid Shadrian's scrutiny of the weapon, holding his tongue would not have averted it. Zelda stood wide eyed beside him, surprised by her old tutor's lack of formality—approaching the holiest artefact the scholar was likely to ever behold so casually, without any blessing as yet to do so—and the look of horror that flashed across the Gerudo's face seemed to match hers perfectly; brought about for different reasons though it might be.

He knew already what the old fool worried for, bent over and peering closely at the hilt as he was—Ganondorf could almost feel the bile rising in his throat for such expectancy, tension thickening in the air around him as he swallowed. The Princess had not noticed any anomaly thus far, bereft of wisdom to aid her in such discovery, but the Regent knew her unrest would be palpable when the scholar spoke next. Settling her from this was not going to be easy, and Gods help him if she decided to seek out a sage for guidance on the matter.

Steeling himself with a pre-emptive wince twisting his mouth, the Gerudo could do little more then silently curse Sir Shadrian's obsessive attention to detail, hoping he would not connect the condition to the cause. Spurred to follow the scholar with hasty steps upward, even the subtle and weakened aura was still present enough to his senses—the very air around him threatened thick skin with burning sensations, the static tingle evolving into fierce heat, and all too quickly the nauseating tug at his darkened soul beckoned he halt his approach. The Regent visibly slowed the closer he became, but struggling through it, pained, Ganondorf found desperation enough to endure, daring to stand no farther than five feet from the legendary blade.

Forced to realise his fortune then, the supposed Sheikah knew well that, had Badon failed in his second task, his rouse would not have withstood the force of such a divine weapon's wrath. Had the sage's prayer not ceased, and their blood not been spilled at his behest, he was now certain that this chamber would've stood as a sanctuary from his presence.

It was by sheer luck he could stand here, now, almost at arm's length from that which would destroy him.

Zelda was left behind again quickly as for a moment, with a surprised blink, she simply stared after the two men as they moved closer to the sword. Of their own accord, her bare feet, too, would defy the reverent respect for that blade to follow them, rising to the top of the steps in time to see her fiance's hand rise toward Sir Shadrian in a stilted, desperate and hesitant manner that confused her to see of him.

"Get back!" the Regent beckoned, rumbling from his chest with sudden force enough one might imagine the chamber to quiver around him. Thick brows knitted into a fearsome scowl, a snarl bearing sharp canines and the barest hint of malice, restrained, as his voice tore the scholar's gaze from a sword to a king. "If you tarnish that blade with your feeble spirit," he lied, twisting the matter into a noble one, "I will not hesitate but to execute you for such a crime myself!"

A bemused expression painted wrinkled features as Shadrian peered back at him over his shoulder, slowly rising to his full height again and bearing a furrowed brow over his spectacles. Behind the Regent, the Princess gave a shocked and silent gasp for such a threat, indignant as wide eyes settled on the back of him.

"Sheik! What has gotten into you—?" She managed, horrified by the prospect of him using his skills in the art of death against her old friend. Even so, a part of her understood his protectiveness—were anything to go wrong now, and corrupt the sword's strength or the Hero's path to it, their fates may well be sealed. Crystalline eyes wavered between the men and she found her voice grow small beside them.

Something was wrong, and somehow, Zelda felt it had little to do with Shad's proximity to the sword.

She caught the wisened glance of her tutor, and the look in his eye cemented it further. The jovial shine, the wonder and awe, were gone and replaced with something altogether more stern. Only a moment did she have to study it, unnerved by such change in him, before the scholar's attention returned to stare at the Sheikah with harsh scrutiny.

Lowering his tone, it came quiet and grave, and over the tops of his glasses, Shadrian offered the Regent a calm—if not suddenly distant—response. "…For one who has lived long enough, so Zelda assures me, to have witnessed this sword in its full glory…" inclining his head upwards, a stoic sense of determination seemed to take him over, volume rising as if he knew the importance of having Zelda hear it. "…It would be a terrible worry if you had not recognised it to be tarnished already. I assure you, I never had any intent to touch it, but even so, I won't be blamed for its condition."

With a final squint, Shadrian found the gold stained crimson of his eyes and locked with them, unwavering, as he watched Zelda's face fall in the corner of his vision. "I daresay you already knew this blade was weakened before you sent men to collect it, am I correct? I wonder, Sheik, would Badon and his surly crew even been able to retrieve it at all, were that not the case?"

"...W…Weakened…?" the whisper slipped past the Princess' lips with disbelief, golden tresses swaying lightly as her head began to shake, betraying her denial. A hollow laugh left her, and looking to her husband to be, satin gloved hands shifted again to toy with her necklace. "No, that couldn't be right… It… is simply at rest, waiting for the Hero…?" She traced the outline of his form for any hint, any small sign that she might take comfort in from this notion, but when the girl received nothing, she looked instead to Shadrian, desperate.

The scholar's expression was a sorrowful one, sympathetic and apologetic, tailored to her in that moment. He knew, from the moment he'd realised something was amiss, that Zelda would be unaware of it… what pained him most was the question of why the Regent had seen fit not to tell her. It only worried him further that the Sheikah seemed not only reticent, but outright dishonest, hinting that he would feign ignorance if not called out on such a thing to explain.

Gritting his teeth, Ganondorf knew he'd been backed into a corner here. The old fool had indeed noticed, all too quickly, the dire state of the weapon. But still, the scholar had left him room to manoeuvre around even this, and privately, the Gerudo found his want for use in Shadrian satisfied immediately. The anger left him, rough features trained into something of resignation, of a protector who had shielded his ward from a harsh reality once again, and a slow sigh breezed from his nose.

Closing his eyes, he allowed his head to incline, a defeated tone laced into his words for good measure. "I'm afraid he's correct, Zelda. On all counts… the Master Sword has indeed lost much of its power. This is one of the reasons it was to be moved here."

Gold stained eyes opened to trace the patterns beneath his boots, echoing guilt from the memory of when he had felt it before.

"I did not wish to worry you with such knowledge, but it was as much to secure its safety as ours... here, it is beyond Evil's reach. In such a state as it is, I did not wish to leave it in the open to be tampered with." flicking the scholar a brief glare, turning it around on him, he continued, "It's edges may be dulled, but the power to repel evil still hums faintly within it. I can sense that much… and that being the case, once it sees a Hero's hand, it can be restored. It is but one of many duties the legends speak of… reforging and renewing the blade, so it may remain at its peak, tempered by his spirit. Sir Shadrian, of all people, should be able to attest to such a fact."

Bare feet padded closer, still holding onto the gem, and Zelda drew close enough to see her Regent's face, still searching for reassurance. Doubt and fear shimmered in her eyes for the shock of such a thing, and how careless he'd been to keep such important details from her, but upon the delicate curves of her face lay the faint relief the Gerudo had sought to instil. For all their troubles, her loyalty and trust remained unbroken, and that fact eased a ghosted smile onto his face as he looked upon her.

Gold stained eyes would toss an expectant glare toward the wiry scholar then, silently urging his compliance—if nothing else, his affections for Zelda would surely douse his suspicions for the moment, if he held them. Ganondorf could already see the wrinkles softening to appease the girl and lend credit to what he'd offered in explanation.

Such a warning was quietly fierce, but perfectly understood, and though the old scholar still questioned the reasoning behind such reticence where Zelda was concerned, he could appreciate the fragile state the girl had been in since her Father's murder. Wary of it, and compassionate in his dealing with her, Shad did not wish to insult her by questioning her fiancé's motives for secrecy…

At least, not just at this moment, delicate as the situation seemed to be.

Adjusting his glasses, hesitantly taking one finger to slide them up the bridge of his nose, Shadrian relented for now with a humble nod. "Indeed, Zelda, he is right in that… Why, in the earliest accounts concerning Demise, the Hero who challenged the Demon King tempered his blade in three holy fires in order to ready it for the conflict. Even the Hero of Time himself gathered a token of spiritual power from each of the Holy Sages… If the sword's power has waned over time, then it is only natural that this Hero also imbues it with sacred power in turn."

But privately, whether Sheik claimed to shelter the girl from worry or not, Sir Shadrian resolved to keep a closer eye on her former attendant in that moment. He was correct; the blade could indeed be brightened to its glory once more when a Hero claimed it, but that required faith and patience that this castle was swiftly running short of and unfortunately, that was something that simply could not be helped.

Unrest though it might cause in Zelda, it was also something that a future Queen needed to be aware of, regardless. Such was his duty to her, that she be prepared and able to command a Kingdom—it was Sir Shadrian's duty as much as it was Sheik's, and should the Regent seem to withhold anything to stifle her, be it in good intention or not, the scholar would make sure it came to her attention despite him.

Their affections for one another may well be clouding better judgement, in this case, Shadrian conceded mentally, glancing between them with consideration, even the Great Lady Impa never let her care impede her duty…Such is the creed of the Sheikah, after all, but it does all seem a trifle odd. Perhaps this very problem is part and parcel of Sheikah men taking guardianship. Yes, indeed, that does seem to be the case, given each time one has appeared to an heir in the past, they were married also…

And with painful clarity, it hit him, holding his tome a little tighter to his side for it. Ah, of course, I should have seen it before! My word, yes… He came to us a guardian, to be sure… but now he has become something different; will be a husband, and a King. Surely, he would serve her just the same, but now… he simply cannot do so with the same objective necessity. How could he? But such is his role, I should suppose. Then that leaves me no other option. I must take up the role he no longer fills… at least as far as I can, and assure that Zelda is granted advisory without such bias.

Even if it pains her… Like the Holy Blade, her spirit must be tempered in order to be strong, by many fires. She had known her Father, and learned from Sheik. It was high time he resumed his place as one of her teachers, as well.

"That said, mind you," the scholar would turn to the Sheikah once more, eyeing him with a warning of his own, "Whether or not that is something we can influence, and I'll admit, it certainly isn't… these matters are not of the kind to be kept to oneself, Sheik. I must ask, and excuse me for it if it should upset things, but when would you have made Zelda aware of this, if not for my doing so just now?"

A brow was raised ever so slightly, genuine concern and curiosity burning in his question, and the disguised Gerudo saw the danger in it. Given everything he and his ward had spoken of today, such a thing was not a welcome sound to his paranoid ear. Bandaged fingers twitched at his sides, and with a glance he took stock of the girl beside him, looking lost and distant as a whirlwind no doubt raged behind crystalline irises. How he wished he could've seen such thoughts, but unable to decipher her any more than was typical between a man and woman, he settled on a rare truth.

Clicking his tongue as Zelda studied him, watching carefully as her pointed ears twitched with anticipation of his answer, Ganondorf offered Shadrian not a glare, but a small smirk instead. "When she wished to hear it, Sir Shadrian… Had she not asked, I may never have said a word. Whether or not she found out was something that seemed of little concern to me, given she can do nothing to rectify the matter. It is out of her hands… and out of ours as well, as you've noted. Her focus is better saved for things she can influence, wouldn't you agree?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't, in point of fact." The scholar offered flatly, brows rising some over a heavy blink. "She is the Bearer of Wisdom. It is her destiny to perceive things we cannot, and I daresay that to avoid bringing to her attention any detail of this country's affairs is to be negligent in our duty to her. Where we may see no solution, she may well surprise the lot of us. Indeed, it is her job to, if I am to be quite frank..."

At that, the smirk lingering on the corner of the Regent's lips quickly faded, drawn thin into a displeased grimace—In many ways, the scholar was the very polar opposite of Talleday and yet, somewhere at the very core of it all, the Gerudo was sure he saw the same spirit. The unfaltering resolve to see what needed to be done occurred, and to ensure the very best was done where the Princess was concerned. The loyal and naïve ideal that they could protect the crown from decay, opposing him even as he tried to twist things to his liking.

It was troubling as it was intriguing, but Ganondorf knew better than to simply slit another throat. He had underestimated the scholar, it seemed, but that was quickly changing… he had not missed Shadrian's mention of Demise, either. There was information locked up in that wiry bastard's brain that could benefit him, as yet; the last link of a long line of historians that held in their private archives the secrets to not only his, but Zelda's history… and that of the boy. If there were connections to made, lifelines to ancient and forgotten powers owed to him still, then Shadrian was the best bet at finding them. Until Power returned to his hand at full, he needed every advantage he could get.

Very well… I'll indulge him a while.

Zelda, however, wore a soft smile upon her tired features, brightening them some as her admiration for her old tutor was vindicated. "Shad…" she whispered, more to herself, but the tone was glad of his presence. She knew she had missed him earlier, and this was precisely why. Of all the people she feared disappointing most, the scholar fell in right behind the Sages and the Sheikah beside her.

He would likely never know how grateful she truly was for the belief he held in her, and the support he offered, simply because he could. Even so, she stood torn. She'd had this argument with Sheik a few times, and yes, she did tire of it now—of course, Shadrian was right, and she thanked him for voicing such a thing, if only to second her feelings on the matter. But she knew also that Sheik did these things out of mercy and care, and no matter how she may protest, at the end of it, his protectiveness only proved his love further.

She knew the strange tug in her belly was the strange sensations of restrained despair, threatening to crush her illusions of security, and suddenly she mourned that feeling from before. Danger had seemed so far from her, not minutes ago, and now—thanks to Shad—that comfort had been shattered ruthlessly to let the winds of uncertainty slowly lash her hopes, eroding them away bit by bit.

True, it was what she had demanded, not moment before Shad arrived… but now that she had it, Zelda realised she didn't care for such honesty when it came from those around her.

She wanted to hear it from Sheik, or not at all. His honesty—or lack thereof—was what bothered her the most, and how far he was willing to involve her, acknowledging the woman she'd become and the equal he was supposed to see in her.

When Shadrian spoke such things instead, she felt he had stolen the opportunity, cheapening it with a thief's tongue and denying herself and her lover the chance to mend their issues and grow together.

The Princess was grateful to him… and yet, Zelda knew, selfishly, that she was spiteful of it also.

Gently, mutely, she would not have another argument here tonight, regardless of how warranted it may seem to the men with her, and for both of them she would shake her head. Satin gloved hands folded simply in front of her, as if to begin prayer, and crystalline eyes would close with some semblance of self forged peace.

"You are both very good to me, each for different reasons… and I'm thankful for that. You're right, Shad, I have a right to know the affairs of my country in full. But like Sheik said, if I wish to know anything, I need only ask and he would tell me. These are things I must learn to notice for myself, and address accordingly. That's my duty to Hyrule, as her Queen." A soft smile took her lips, and the Princess offered a fond glance to each of them before turning back to the Holy Blade.

"There's a Hero out there right now, and when the time comes, he'll take up this sword and everything will fall into place. We're doing what we can, but without him… some things just have to wait. I can't bring strength back to the Master Sword, but I can strengthen the people's resolve. I'm at peace with that. If Sheik never ended up telling me, Shad, it's because that information is useless in my hands. He'd pass it on to the Hero who needed to hear it instead."

Shifting to bring his leather bound book before him, holding it to his chest as if restraining something from tumbling out of it, Shadrian would regard the small Sovereign with furrowed brows. He pleaded gently with her, coaxingly, as if she had missed something very important in all of this.

"I have no doubt of that, Zelda, but you see, my dear, that is not his place. It is yours. You are the Bearer of Wisdom, and it is that Wisdom which guides the Hero on his journey. Without Wisdom to light the way, Courage would simply barrel on ahead and be lost within the dark thicket awaiting them, swallowed up by the shadows. That is how the legends of old are written, and how they must unfold again…"

He would chance a step toward her, inclining his head with all the concern of a grandfather discovering a nasty bruise, kindly eyes appraising the girl as if to discern the cause of such injury. "Preparing for the throne is but one of the things you are destined for, Zelda. There are many more burdens to be shouldered than just that; my word, if only things were so simple… I know Wisdom's Blessing may not be upon you yet, but that does not mean you inherit nothing of it now. My dear, surely you've felt the pulse of it leading you…? Can you not sense Courage flaring for yourself, or is it merely the word of a Sage that lends you such confidence?"

His words drifted out into the hollow chamber and filled it with something stark and foreboding, echoing gravely before silence returned to them. Upon the Princess' face, a myriad of things began to shift her delicate features, betraying the nerve he had struck—inside, she denied her ignorance of such sensation, automatically assuming her knowledge of it to be personal. But as the seconds ticked by, her gaze began to fall, brows knitting to suggest she couldn't be sure of that at all.

Of course I have felt him... Haven't I...?

But the Regent had heard quite enough of that, turning a concerned gaze upon her in turn. Ganondorf did not like the expressions Zelda wore, and flashing a glare back toward the scholar, his eyes revealed a dangerously unabated gold.

He snarled at him, and in the bite of his canines drew a small flinch from the elderly man when backed by the weight of his scowl. "Do you not think she has enough worries for one day, Sir Shadrian? Or perhaps you'd much rather see her mind undone with doubt and scrutiny?" he spat it low, bandaged fingers curling into fists by his sides. "No more of this. You've made both the dire state of our affairs and your concerns for her competence quite clear, Scholar."

Shadrian straightened then, taken aback by such defensiveness as his spectacles slipped down his nose—he was almost sure of it now, as the malice flared upon the Regent's worn features, that something about Shiek's agenda had gone drastically amiss. The man was known to be abrasive when challenged, to be sure, but it always seemed he acted with the greater good in mind, careful in his care for the Princess' well being...

But perhaps... even a Sheikah can grow too comfortable on the throne, his mind offered then with worry, and the scholar felt he had his answer.

Before he could address it though, the harsh echo of footfalls could be heard thundering toward them from above, turning a bespectacled gaze toward the stairs. The royals were quick to follow, as all ears in company were accosted by a loud shout of urgency echoing down before whoever approached.

"Sire!" came the call, out of breath and unused to running at such a pace, before the panicked form of Themis' boots could be glimpsed. The man came to a halt, his cheeks red with the effort as a shaking hand sought the brick beside him once he'd reached the last step.

Even as his ward and her precious scholar stared up with bemusement and surprise, the irritation seemed to take leave of the Regent's features, bringing with the councilman's appearance a small sense of relief that let a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

Well, it's about time, he thought cruelly, knowing already what news had been brought to his eager ear.

"Themis. I trust this is important?" he offered then, feigning some ignorance as his rich voice carried smooth over the small distance of the sparse chamber.

Swiping chubby fingertips through his oaken hair, the man gave the reply the Gerudo had been waiting for.

"Indeed, Sire, it is Badon... He has returned..." he panted quickly, fearful eyes hollow and greyed as they swept those below. Swallowing against a dry throat, Themis looked to the Princess and the Sword, and though he tried to hide it, it was obvious that the man was shaken. "H-he claims the guard who was posted at the boy's cell took to the ranch with arson, Sire, after finding out that his sister had granted him refuge there. The blaze caught the attention of the men left with him and as they went to investigate, Badon found the traitor was indeed hiding in his own home and engaged him... but it seems he has fled once more."

Zelda's ears perked to that as her visage was stolen with concern, a hand drifting to her chest as crystalline eyes widened. "Arson? You mean to say a fire has broken out in the fields?" she blinked once, unable to fully process everything that seemed to be happening around her at once, and stepping forward to shout, she frowned. "What are you waiting for, Themis? Send men to contain it! With the winds tonight, that blaze could easily take hold of the southern villages!"

"I already have, your Highness, though our numbers aren't what they were. Ordon is under the greatest threat, by what Badon has told us, though scouts will soon give a clearer picture." the man offered breathlessly, turning a nod toward the scholar behind her. "Sir Shadrian, your presence will be needed immediately to convene on appropriate measures, as well."

Reluctant to be drawn away from his growing suspicions of the Sheikah, though unable to prioritise them above the loss of lives, wiry fingers would take to correcting his glasses in hesitation. He would simply have to leave further scrutiny of the Regent's intentions for a less pressing time.

"Very well, Themis, I'll be along directly." he sighed slowly, before moving to step between the royals and ascend the stairs once more, keen to follow his fellow councilman.

Even as Themis turned to take his leave with the scholar in tow, the Regent's voice would halt him as he bit back on a sinister smile. "Is there any good news to be had, Themis, or should I take the Princess to retire for a well deserved rest?" lifting a brow, he ignored the affronted look Zelda gave in the corner of his vision, and met the stern—almost accusatory—glances from both members of the Privvy council.

"...No, Sire, I don't believe so." Themis offered stiffly over his shoulder, as Shadrian slowly overtook him on the steps, mournful boot falls ringing out with a sense of pathos. "But it would seem Badon has captured Malinna Lonell in place of her brother, with the intention of questioning and punishment."

"Excellent."