Star-Crossed Lovers

IV

Link dashed his feet back to the balcony above the ballroom to keep an eye on the princess like Impa ordered him. He stood, leaning on the railing, just like before. His eyes scanned through the crowd behind the mask for any danger. But when he quickly glanced at the royal couple, he gasped.

That stranger he had just danced with stood right before the princess. The music picked up again, and they started to dance. At first, the servant thought he was dreaming. There was no way that man was the prince! They might just have been wearing the same clothes.

But as he continued to watch the waltz, he noticed the prince look up at him.

Those eyes... They were the same ones Link found himself gazing into just earlier that evening.

The two stared at one another. One in utter, unrealistic horror, the other in agonizing disappointment and disbelief. Brown eyes once more looked deeply into baby blue, and Link could feel the stranger—ha, a stranger; what a fool he was, this was Prince Ghirahim—pleading with him.

He bit his lip, tearing his eyes from the prince's, and ran off into the crowd.

Ghirahim forgot where he was, just for the moment, and released his hold on the princess to shout, "Wait!" before running away from the scene.

Everyone around gasped, exchanging whispers and looks of displeasure. Demise and Hylia exchanged looks, and the queen glared coldly at the king. It meant something clear: "Do something!"

And do something he did. Demise stood up from his seat and chased after his son. The crowd cleared away from him, making a straight path towards the frantic prince. The king grabbed his son's shoulder, forcing Ghirahim to turn around.

"Ghirahim!" he exclaimed. "What is the meaning of this?"

Ghirahim gaped like a fish out of water, his mind racing trying to find the right words to say. In the end, he hung his head and bowed before the king.

"My... My apologies, Father, I-I..." He took a deep breath. "My action are inexcusable. I apologize."

He didn't mean a word of it. Ghirahim was still more concerned with that boy, Link, than any noble he happened to offend that evening. Demise seemed to buy it, however, and the king huffed. He leaned closer to the prince.

Whispering, he said, "If you ever do something like this again, the executioner will see to it you never take the throne once I am gone."

The prince stood back up, his expression unfazed—though, inside, he was truly shaken at the threat, for it wasn't the first time the king had made such promises—as he replied, "Yes, Father."

The king nodded, feeling pleased. He grabbed his son by the arm and turned on his heel, dragging Ghirahim back to the queen and princess and crowd of nobles he despised so dearly. However, he could not see the prince turn his head and search longingly for the short blond that ran off.

The prince now feared the worst: he had lost the boy, and he'd likely never see him again.

So, with his gaze averting those of the ones around him, Ghirahim went on with the rest of the ball just as they planned.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

How could he be such an idiot? How could he have been so foolish? So stupid?

It seemed luck was not on Link's side. From the moment he was a child, rarely did anything go right for the blond. He was left behind by his family, picked up by a maid from the royal castle, and taken in to become a kitchen boy. He was trapped as a servant, and nothing more. He should have known nothing would come easy from there on.

His affections for Zelda were fruitless in spite of the years, and it was no different now with Ghirahim.

"Funny," he thought to himself. "I fall for a princess I've known for years and end up disregarding her the moment I realized nothing would come from it. I've known this prince for only an hour and yet... It feels like I'm dying already."

Link hated to think of soulmates and true love. They were nothing more than fairy tales he'd tell the other children. Stories of princesses meeting a prince who'd take them away from whatever troubles befell them. The children were fascinated by them, openly wondering if they'd ever meet their prince charming to take them away from the life of a castle servant.

He knew that was not their reality, and it never will be. There was no such things as knights in shining armor. At least, not for them. For someone like Zelda, of course. She was a princess, and a beautiful one at that. Any prince would be lucky to have her.

Ghirahim was lucky to have her.

Link stopped running, now standing in the middle of the corridor. His face was shocked to say the least, and he felt it all suddenly sink in.

Zelda was getting married to the prince. Zelda was getting married to Ghirahim.

The blond felt the sting in his eyes, and he knew he had to get away. He ran off again and back to his room. He made it before the other servants could notice the fancy suit he wore, and before they could see his tears welled inside his eyes.

When Link made it to the comfort and safety of his room, he shut the door. He threw the chair in front of it. A perfect substitute for a lock. He turned around to face the mirror, and he saw himself.

He was still in that suit. Still in that mask. He suddenly felt a hatred for all of it.

Link ripped the mask off his face, throwing it to the side and leaving it discarded on the dirty, cobblestone floor. Next came the suit itself. The blazer was removed first, and the blond nearly broke all the buttons as he struggled to tear it off himself. That, too, was thrown haphazardly away from him. Then came the pants, and the undershirt, and lastly the shoes Impa lent him. All of this while hot streams of tears fell down his tanned cheeks.

When he looked back at the mirror, he smiled. Finally, he recognized the person once more.

Feeling calm now, Link walked to where he last laid his clothes and threw them back on. He sighed in content before flopping onto his bed. He had enough of today.

Enough of nobles and secret missions and godly royals.

Link closed his eyes and rolled over, hoping just to fall asleep as soon as he could. He needed the rest. Tomorrow was sure to be a long day for the servants, seeing as they were to clean up after the party guests. He was sure most wouldn't leave until the early hours of the day. From there, everyone would go out and start clearing everything up.

The blond sighed again, snuggling further into the covers. He needed sleep. That was all.

He thanked the gods when he felt the familiar fatigue wash over him, and he humbly accepted being dragged into the peaceful, inky darkness for the rest of the night.