Summary: Forced into an unhappy marriage, Zelda turns to a unscrupulous merchant to salvage her from her plight, and becomes embroiled in a slew of events that may well lead to her downfall.

Ratings: PG-13 (For safety. Some sections might come across as slightly improper, and there is a bit of violence and gory graphic description later on)

Disclaimer: I own nothing that already belongs to Nintendo; I am only borrowing. What is mine, however, should easily be discerned.

Author's Note: And once again I return to this story, hoping beyond hope that perhaps this time around I won't contemplate and re-write this thing to death. Please enjoy. Btw, I've broken the prologue into two parts, for fear it may be two long as one. - Selah

Oh! let the world smile
Like an obedient child;
Nevermind your beginning to drown...

---

Prologue

1

The great hall was silent. King Malus Harkinian was pacing, his big feet, squeezed into small, pointed shoes of damask, making a gently thud-thud thud-thud on the marble flooring. His advisors were sitting rigidly upon the dais bench watching their liege through wide eyes from the black fustian covered table, temporarily assembled for purpose of the meeting. Their countenances were pale and dignified, their doublets and hose, ribbons and hose starched and pressed with the greatest care. A heavy silence had enveloped them since their arrival in the hall half an hour ago, and now a spirit of restiveness was beginning to take hold of several of the vassals. At intervals they turned and murmured to one another, their lips barely moving and the reserve of their visages and manners belying the true anxieties that lurked within their diminutive minds.

Finally one of the advisors stood and said, "My lord - my fellow barons and I have unanimously decided that something must be done about the Gerudo."

Malus abruptly ceased to pace and turned slowly toward the speaker, the latter of whom gulped and bit his lip anxiously, lowering his eyes to the floor obligingly. The king was a rotund man, dressed in ill-fitting frippery; bald and devoid of a mustache. His face was fleshy, the cheeks rounded, the eyes beady and pig-like within the mounds of pinkish flesh. His doublet was tight in an attempt to contain his corpulence; his feet shod in pointed damask shoes. "Oh?" murmured the king, and began to pace again. "Well then, pray continue."

His mind was currently riveted on the issue of dinner.

"Well my lord," the advisor began, shifting awkwardly, "we have noticed an alteration in the Gerudo over the past few years. It seems they have grown, and broken loose from their barbarous roots. They have escalated in power and wealth and their army numbers five thousand strong."

"And even more," another advisor interposed, also standing, "they are headed by Lord Ganondorf Dragmire himself - you do remember Lord Ganondorf Dragmire, do you not my liege?"

Malus glanced momentarily in the advisor's direction, his pace faltering; the ironic expression slackening. "Aye, who doesn't?" he murmured. Gruff admiration was perceived in his voice.

"Exactly my lord!" another courtier cried suddenly, leaping upright. "We all remember him - we all remember how he drove his armies straight into the hearts of various barbarian encampments and made them him own! And we all recall the intensity he used against those craven Anians, and how he managed to subdue them. And amazing show of strength!" He made an obeisance, then continued, "Sire, we noblemen firmly believe that it would be an intelligent move on your part to secure an alliance with the powerful likes of the Dragmire family. Imagine the possibilities! Wealth, a strong political tie, the supreme alliance - my lord, what more could one ask for? I urge you to make this move! The man is wealthy beyond belief - think of your fortune, and what you could obtain! And let us not forget the common folk - they would love you for it, extol you, worship you like a god for gaining them this alliance!"

Like a god... Malus had to smile at this. Not that the common folk would care per se - for in his opinion they were much to stupid to comprehend - but it was a nice though nevertheless. And as pertaining to the wealth... disregard all the rest, as long as this man was affluent all was right with the world! The subject of dinner, in the light of this magnificence, had been banished to the recesses of his mind.

"I see your position," he said after a brief pause, and at this it seemed a relieved sigh was heard to escape the lips of every man present. "But before we sigh in our relief," the king continued, "let us consider this one question: how shall we go about making this important connection?" And with that he turned toward the men and waited.

"My lord-" someone began in a tentative tone.

"I know!" the youngest of the advisors cried suddenly, standing ecstatically. "Let's make an alliance!"

There was silence.

"Roland," Malus began with a sardonic chuckle, as a depraved cricket chirped in the background, "would you do us the kind favour of staying awake when we are having a discussion?"

Roland's ears went a bright red.

"Roland, do you understand, or even know, the topic which we are currently discussing?"

Roland looked at the table.

"Speak up."

Roland muttered incomprehensibly.

"Could someone here who has more wits about him than Sir Roland apparently has please inform him our of topic of discussion?" Malus inquired lazily.

"Our liege asked how we should go about making an alliance Roland," an advisor provided derisively. Roland went even redder at this.

"I advise you to clean out all earwax before attending a meeting in the future my good sir," the king said, then gestured to the chair. "Sit, now." Roland obeyed, and his eyes were wide. "Now, would someone else like to have a go?"

"My lord," the advisor whose suggestion had been interposed by the wise Roland repeated cautiously, as he stood, "you have a beautiful daughter whom you might consider. She's quite eligible to be married - twelve years of age, possessor of a lovely visage and rather demure. Why not give her to Lord Ganondorf in return for an alliance? We might promise a hefty dowry, and other things of that favourable manner. I beg you, my lord, to recall the Persians and the Babylonians." He bowed and sat.

The king's countenance had taken on an expression of consideration. "The insane king and the Hanging Gardens," he murmured. "I see your point... a fine, fine idea..." He began to smile. A fine, fine idea indeed it was... And then he exclaimed in an emphatic tone, "Yes! That is what we shall do! We'll write to this Lord Ganondorf, invite him to the castle, give the girl to him and secure our alliance!"

The advisors applauded. "Very good Most Worshipful, Wonderful and Deserving Majesty, very good," they said in an obliging tone. Roland's boisterous clapping was most prominent.

Malus smirked. "Well then... guard!" The person in question, standing by the door, hurried forward, bowing as he neared. "Go and fetch my scribe," Malus continued, "I have some work for him. And be quick about it will you?"

The guard bowed again and hurried off to fulfill his master's request.

"And now," continued the king, turning to his vassals, "to invent the content of the letter..."

2

King Malus Harkinian the III was a man of many titles: bon vivant, fop, King of Hyrule, Lord Sovereign King of Hyrule, my Liege; Most Worshipful, Wonderful and Deserving Majesty, the latter as we have seen. The clergy did not like this final title, and, if truth be told, the foremost epithet described the man in question accurately, while the last did not.

The king of the Hylian Lands was a product of la dolce vita. His father had been a fop, as had his grandfather, and his mother a sickly duchess who delighted in complaining of her many illnesses, both real and imagined, and receiving murmurs of pity, though they often came from betwixt the clenched teeth of piqued nurses. Malus himself had been raised in dolce far niente, and had been entrusted to several overindulgent nurses and inept tutors in his lifetime. As a child he had often tagged about with some brand new plaything clutched in his chubby fists, demanding gifts of sweetmeats from the courtiers and their wives, and as a young man had abandoned his lessons in the courtly manner and had instead crept off with wayward cousins to throw stones at the stained glass windows of the Temple, and watch the friars in their homely habits and comical tonsures rant and scream curses in the name of the Lord. Malus had really never been in trouble - his high status and abundance of silver rupees were always fine incentives, perpetually used to hush those who caught him in a dissolute act into silence. And as he grew older he incorporated the use of his eloquent tongue and smidgen of cunning into the "game"- with these powers, in conjunction with the ones aforementioned, he easily procured many of his hearts desires. It was a sweet life.

As an adult he refrained from the life of a fop, but was as idle as any of his sires. However, the proverb, "the sluggard buries his hand in the dish, but will not even bring it to his mouth again (1)" did not apply to him on certain occasions. Malus was a man who treasured his powerful, languid situation in life far above things truly deserving exaltation, and when forced would rouse himself and go to great lengths to secure what was his. The meeting concerning Lord Ganondorf Dragmire and his rising power had brought to light a number of qualms the king knew must be addressed. What if this Gerudo lord, possessing, as he did, the power to march on the Hylian Lands and overthrow the sovereigns, did in fact attempt such a thing? This was a trepidation, for Malus loathed any kind of subjection. To be conquered by what was once a "barbarous nation of half-naked land pirates" was, in his mind, the worst kind of humiliation. He would not bow to it.

When he was thirty summers he had married a lovely young duchess named Gwendolyn, who had given birth to a daughter. She had died in labour. Malus had been annoyed, as he had been hoping for a son, and had considered the idea of handing his daughter over to the church more than once, and remarrying, in hopes of obtaining a son. But his courtiers had convinced him of the child's significance - she could be married off to some rich lord, or by other means be used to advance the wealth of the Hylian Lands, and its Most Worshipful king. Malus had fancied the idea, and had found for his daughter a Sheikah woman named Impa. She was a good woman, grey-haired and tall, with a stern visage and kindly demeanour bubbling beneath the firmness of her outward conduct. She had taken the child with the ungrudging willingness of her people - for as a Sheikah she was compelled to serve the royal family - and Malus was satisfied.

Now was the time the girl's existence be exploited. With the encouragement of his council Malus decided to take the initiative, and halt trouble before it went out of control. This, where his routine was concerned, was his foremost course of action. Whether the initiative implied smiles or silky white lies, a compelling behest or a silver rupee, he was willing to take it - and if someone should be sacrificed, to secure his wealth and desires, then so be it. He was more important than the whole world put together anyhow! - this being a prominent ignis fatuus he suffered under - and besides, he had really never known his daughter. He wouldn't be sorry to lose her.

What was her raison d'être, her justification for existence anyway, if not to be married?

3

To Lord Ganondorf Dragmire, Lord Sovereign of the
Gerudo Lands,

My esteemed and worthy friend, greetings! from
King Malus, sovereign ruler of the Hylian Lands. To
be writing to one as respectable as yourself is a great
honour to me, and I am flattered to be doing such.

Now, to get down to main point of this letter. You
wonder why I address you in such a friendly manner
- it is because great leaders as ourselves should be on
affable terms with one another. Why? In this day and
age, strife is great, and geniality among nations is
beneficial to all - imagine if one of us were attacked
- what could we do without the strength of a friend to
back us if the enemy proved too strong? Alliances
and cordiality between states is a recommendable
thing, and I am here to offer such to you today.

We - as in the fine barons of the Hylian Lands and I
- have been watching your tribe for a long time. We
have noted your rise, your strength, your wealth. We
admire your army and its commanders, including
you. What I mean to say is, we realise what a
powerful nation your family has built up, and we
wish to be allied with such a great and noble people
. We are like the ancient Greeks of myth - you the
Spartans, we the Athenians. The Athenians were not
blind to the power of their neighbours, but they chose
to fight it, not become allied with it. That, as legend
tells us, was a poor choice for both nations, for, after
the battles were done and the Spartans lord sovereign
of all the land, a great enemy swept down and
destroyed in moments what had once been hailed as a
powerful nation of warriors.

As king, 'tis my duty to do the best for my people.
And as myth tells us, the is to become friends, no
t enemies. And so I am offering you, in return for your
hand in friendship, my daughter, the lovely Princess
Zelda. She is twelve years of age, in the prime of her
beauty and a superb choice for wife. Her dowry shall
be large, larger than what many nations can afford to
offer. Take her, and have the gifts... all we ask is you
accede to an alliance.

I eagerly await your reply, and pray you will accept
this small token of friendship. May the El-Shaddai
shower blessings upon you. Best wishes and regards,

King Malus Harkinian