An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Castle Town was abuzz, citizens taking full advantage of their day off, going to-and-fro, setting up their food stands in the early morning sun, decorating the streets in flower garlands and streamers. While the streets of the heart of Hyrule were always busy, on this particular day wagons and carriages streamed through the front gates, escorting Hylians from near and far, in hopes of catching a glimpse of the arrival of The Champions, or The Hero, or even one of the remote-controlled Guardians that were on display for demonstration throughout the town.
By midnight, her birthday will arrive. Her and Link would be atop Mount Lanayru. She’ll pray to the goddess at the Spring of Wisdom. Zelda swallowed a lump in her throat whenever she tried to picture whatever was going to happen next.
The last princess whose 17th birthday the people of Hyrule had celebrated was Zelda’s very own mother. How disappointed her people must be, to travel so far for a princess who couldn’t live up to her predecessors.
It didn’t help that Zelda had been up since before sunrise. She had jolted awake in a cold sweat, silk nightgown sticking to her skin, her heart pounding and chest rising rapidly. In the dark of her room, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust, and even longer to realize she was awake and the nightmare faded into the dark corners of her mind. Once she realized she was safe, she stumbled out of bed, the duvet’s weight too stifling, too hot, too heavy. But now the room was too stuffy and she needed fresh air. How grateful she was to have the passageway to her study outdoors. The breeze cooled her, but the nightmare drowned her thoughts, clouding her head like a storm cloud. Despite its effects on her, she couldn’t recall the details. Like the smoak of a fire only recently put out, it loomed like a haze, stung her eyes, and choked the air from her lungs.
The fragments of her dream came to her. There was a woman. A beautiful woman, ethereal in nature. A fairy queen or a spirit perhaps? Whatever she might have been, her expression was hidden in divine lights. Her voice... Zelda couldn't recall. Did she speak at all? Yes, of course, the dream appeared clearer, but the edges were still blurred. Exactly what was said, Zelda couldn't remember.
Something bad is going to happen, a voice that sounded suspiciously like her own spoke. She smothered it, snuffing it out like a candle. It’s just nerves, she tried to rationalize, a simple nightmare. Nothing more.
