Chapter Text
From the diary of Lady Zelda Bosphoramus:
We uncovered some ancient technology that we believe may have the power to control the Guidance Stone. It is a rectangular object, small enough to be held in my two hands. Sheikah text is featured prominently on it. Cousin Purah proposed that I hold on to it for now. I hope that it leads to some new developments in our research.
Zelda allowed the ink to dry then snapped her journal shut. She stared at the rectangular slate before her, willing it to reveal its secrets. The back of it was raised and embossed with the symbol of an eye topped with three small triangles, with something like a teardrop descending from the eye. The eye stared back at her, it’s blue iris unblinking. The symbol she had seen before on other sheikah artifacts, but its meaning was lost to time. She gripped the slate by its handle and turned it around, but the flat black surface on the other side yielded no answers.
But she was excited about learning everything she could about it. Zelda’s cousins Robbie and Purah had left it with her after their last visit, but so far she had not made much progress. She hoped she would have something to show for it when next she visited them. Distant relations of her mother, Purah and Robbie had always been willing and encouraging participants in Zelda’s scientific explorations. They had recently been uncovering many ancient Sheikah artifacts and had eagerly reached out to Zelda for her assistance. She knew her father wouldn’t approve, however, so Zelda had kept their correspondence and any artifacts they had sent her mostly a secret.
Upon hearing a knock at her door, she quickly tucked the slate beneath her journal and turned expectantly.
“Come in!” she called.
“My dear! Good afternoon! See what has arrived for you from Lady Urbosa,” Lord Rhoam called as he burst into her room followed by a maid with a large box.
“Oh? Indeed?” Zelda said eagerly as she went to open the box. Her godmother often sent the most intriguing gifts from the distant Gerudo province. What could it be? A delicate clockwork figurine like the ones she’d spied that day at the Kara Kara Bazaar years ago? A new set of archaeological tools? Books on Gerudo mythology?
She lifted the lid off the box to reveal an expanse of deep blue silk covered with intricate embroidered floral designs, silent princesses and blue nightshade picked out in shining thread and gleaming beadwork.
“It’s … a ball gown?” Zelda said, struggling to mask her disappointment. She gently pulled it out of its tissue paper nest to reveal short, puffed sleeves made in a matching sheer fabric, more floral embroidery around the low, round neckline, this time of cool safflina and swift violets. An intricate line of beading ran along the high waistline. Despite all of the embroidery and beading, the dress was light and seemed airy, perfect for a summertime ball.
“How wonderful!” he boomed. “The perfect gown to wear to Princess Mipha’s ball next month! All of the eligible gentlemen of Hyrule will be there.”
Zelda repressed a sigh. She hated balls and only went to them when pressed by her father, which had become an obsession of his once her 20th birthday came and went and she remained unattached. She was eager to see her dear friend Mipha, but wished she could do so anywhere but at a ball. But her father would not be discouraged. She forcefully stretched a smile over her face.
“How ... wonderful, father.” He beamed at her in delight before turning and following the maid out of her room.
Once he left, Zelda placed the gown back in its box. It was beautiful, but elegant designs and the whims of fashion were not counted among her interests. More useful to her were practical gowns that washed easily and had plenty of deep pockets for her to stash notebooks and specimen bottles. She was distressed at the thought that Godmother Urbosa, of all people, would be in league with Zelda’s father in his schemes to get her married. Urbosa most of all should understand Zelda’s desire to be left alone to pursue her own interests, rather than shackling herself to managing some lord’s household as his wife. In Urbosa’s matriarchal Gerudo, women had the freedom to live as they pleased, married or not. Oh, if only Zelda had been born a Gerudo!
As she went to replace the lid on the box, Zelda spied a folded piece of paper poking out of the tissue that lined the bottom. As she unfolded it she saw her godmother’s flowing script in a few lines:
“To my Little Bird,
May the goddesses find you well. I pray that you can find your wings and fly.”
Zelda hoped some day she could.
The next day dawned bright and beautiful, with warm sunshine and gentle breezes encouraging the wildlife of Hyrule to emerge from their dens. Warm darners and summerwing butterflies flit through the air and hightail lizards skittered from her path as Zelda walked home from her visit to the small village near the estate. She had told her father she was off to search for new gloves and ribbons to prepare for the ball and he was more than happy to send her off, gratified at her enthusiasm for the upcoming event. What she didn’t tell him is that she also planned to pick up some new specimen bottles and some new tools for her experiments. While the man who ran the village general store might find her a bit strange, he always made sure to have a few scientific items on hand for her.
As she walked, Zelda considered her plan for the summer. Her father was becoming increasingly frustrated with her bluestocking nature, and she was concerned he might prevent her from pursuing her studies in favor of focusing on suitors and balls. “No man wants a wife who has her nose in a book at all times!” he’d tell her. She didn’t tell him that was why she was so uninterested in pursuing a husband. Research and study and science were her true loves, and she didn’t want to hide that part of her away just so she could be married to a man who wouldn’t appreciate her for who she was. And in her limited experience with young men, she found that most of them did not share her interests and would move on to more charming company as soon as they could.
However, she knew at some point that decision would be taken out of her hands. Her beloved family estate, Lanayru, would be lost to them forever if her father were to pass before she was married. Zelda was Lord Rhoam’s only child, and she could not inherit the estate unless she were married. Otherwise it would revert to the state to be distributed to some other lord. All of her family’s history and heirlooms would be lost, and she would have limited means of support. It seemed either way she was destined to give up the scientific pursuits that she loved so well. She supposed she could live with Robbie and Purah at their small cottage, if she could clear one of the rooms of the piles of specimen jars, mechanical oddments and pieces of Sheikah artifacts. But as much as she loved her cousins, she found no pleasure in that idea.
Despite her trepidation at the thought of having to give up part of herself in order to marry, she did like the idea of a husband and being mistress of her own home. Of being somewhat in charge of her own destiny instead of having to submit to the wishes of her father. She just hoped that marriage could be based on love and not convenience. And she did not feel that the balls, concerts and other social activities of the social season in Castle Town were the best way to make a love match. She just wasn’t sure what the better way was.
She knew that if she didn’t choose a husband for herself, at some point, her father would choose for her. Zelda knew that her father acted out of love, that he was in torment at the thought that she might lose her home and have to live in reduced circumstances were he to die before she found a suitable match. She only wished he could see things from her perspective, and respect her interests as a vital part of who she was as a person, rather than as a distraction from her status as a potential wife. To let her find a husband her own way, instead of forcing her into the shallow pursuits of society. But every year he became more frantic on her behalf, insistent that the older she got, the harder it would be to attract a man into marriage.
She was pulled from her gloomy thoughts by the sounds of frogs chirping from a nearby pond. It seemed as if all of Hyrule’s creatures were enthusiastic in their celebration of the first true spring day. Zelda left the path and carefully made her way around the pond to where it seemed the frogs were congregating. Recent rains had led to a riotous tangle of greenery, lush grasses and waving reeds creating a concealing screen around the water. She found a reasonably dry spot to set her basket down, and fished out one of her new specimen jars, stocking her pocket with the jar as well as a pencil and a label. There was no point in collecting samples if she wasn’t going to accurately take note of their nature and location!
She was excited to collect whatever frogs she was able to capture. She had read that secretions from hot footed frogs could be mixed with monster parts and other materials to create elixirs that enhanced one’s speed, while secretions from tireless frogs prepared in a similar manner could revive the body and provide one with renewed energy and spirit. She was eager to experiment with whatever she could find.
Zelda gathered up the skirt of her light pink dress, tying it in a secure knot above her knees. The dress was one of her favorites, the fabric soft and comfortable from many washings, but still of a quality that she would not shame herself wearing it for a shopping trip into the nearby village. It was her best dress to wear when she planned to attempt some sneaky specimen collection, if she was careful to keep it dry and clean so as to not have to explain herself to her father when she returned home. She removed her boots and stockings and carefully waded into the water, stalking the frogs she could see just under the water’s surface a few feet from past the bed of reeds that ringed the shoreline.
She had just emerged from the reeds and begun to carefully make her way toward the frogs when suddenly a large rock flew over her head, crashing into the water not far from where she stood. Water, mud and decaying vegetable matter geysered up from where the rock splashed down in the shallow waters, soaking her back from head to toe and festooning her hair and dress with sticks, dead leaves and clumps of soft, silty mud.
An octorock! Oh, how could she have been so foolish as to not notice the sprout of river plants in the center of the pond that heralded the hidden presence of the loathsome creature? She ducked as the monster puffed up and rose from the pond, hovering a moment before it sent another boulder sailing toward her and into the water, too close for her to be assured that it wouldn’t hit her the next time.
Zelda was no flighty miss to faint at the first sight of danger. All thoughts of frogs fled her mind as she scanned the pond for a safe place to hide. She knew running for the shore was sure to result in giving the octorock a better view of its target; her only option was to creep in closer and attempt to hide until it gave up. But she had to work fast as an octorock would only perfect its aim the more boulders it shot her way.
Spying a stand of reeds surrounding a large boulder sunk in the water a few feet in front of her, Zelda began to creep forward, hoping she was moving slowly enough for the octorock to lose sight of her and give her time to come up with a plan of action. She was halfway to the reeds when the monster launched another boulder, and she crouched down just in time to avoid it smashing into her head. That was too close! The creature’s persistence began to make her nervous, afraid that even the stand of reeds would not be enough to hide her from its notice.
Zelda was nearly to the boulder and the shelter of the reeds when the octorock rose from the water once again — this time looking straight at her. It’s body began to swell as it sucked in the air to launch a third boulder right at her, one that this time she wasn’t sure would miss. She made a desperate push to make it to the safety of the boulder when suddenly her foot slipped, and she fell to her knees in the soft, sucking mud at the bottom of the pond. She scrambled to find purchase in the slippery muck, the octorock having paused in its inhalation, Zelda square in its sights as it prepared to launch its rock her way.
Suddenly a shot rang out, shattering the quiet of the country afternoon. Zelda jumped at the sound, finally scrambling to her feet to stand in shock as the octorock deflated and collapsed into a puff of purple smoke, leaving several tentacles and an air bladder behind in the water.
Zelda slowly turned and peered over the reeds at the road to behold her rescuer. A gentleman sat on a fine chestnut horse, his double barreled flintlock pistol at the ready in case of a renewed attack from the monster. Zelda was impressed, that was quite the remarkable shot from that distance. Upon seeing her rise from behind the reeds, the man stared at her in surprise for a moment before holstering the pistol and dismounting to come toward her.
Zelda began to wade her way out of the pond, then glanced down as the hem of her dress, now black with mud from the knees down, tangled wetly between her knees. So much for keeping her dress dry. She took a moment to try and rinse as much of the mud off as she could in the water of the pond before giving it up for a lost cause, glancing up to see the gentleman patiently awaiting her, his gloved hand extended to assist her through the slick mud and silt at the shore.
“Miss, are you well?” he asked, his voice low and quiet. She took his proffered hand, leaving black streaks of mud on his fine leather riding gloves. She looked him over curiously as he led her out of the pond and onto the grass. He stood not much taller than she, with sandy blond hair worn unfashionably long and tied back at his neck with a blue ribbon. Startlingly blue eyes looked her over from beneath a fine beaver hat. He wore a dark fitted frock coat and spotless white breeches, his boots shining despite the road dust.
“I … yes, I am quite well, I thank you,” Zelda stuttered.
“I saw the octorock inflating to make a shot and knew it must have some unfortunate individual in its sights,” he said, collecting her basket and leading her toward the road. “I didn’t expect …”
He didn’t expect to find a mud caked young lady. She looked at his handsome face and tailored finery pulled in contrast to her own state. Zelda was soaked with pond water, her back covered in plant detritus and her golden blonde locks dark with mud and dirt. Black mud from the bottom of the pond caked her feet and smears of dirt adorned her face. She felt her cheeks begin to heat in embarrassment. She could only imagine what he must think of her.
“I was hoping to catch one of the frogs,” she said abruptly, feeling the need to explain herself. “I have read they can be made into an elixir to increase one’s speed, or perhaps renew one’s stamina! It’s quite fascinating, I simply must try it. But in my eagerness I did not look to ensure the pond was free from monsters.”
She stopped short as she remembered the octorock’s remains left floating in the pond.
“Oh! The octorock parts will add to the potency of any elixir I make! It’s quite fortuitous that you came by!” Zelda turned to head back to the pond. “I cannot leave them behind!”
She paused at the shore of the pond. The water was shallow and she was sure she could wade out far enough to gather the valuable monster parts. And considering the amount of mud and water that already coated her dress and person, another trip into the water couldn’t make it much worse.
“Wait!” The gentleman caught up to her at the pond’s edge, placing his hand on her arm to stop her from wading into the water. She looked at his hand in surprise, and he snatched it back from her arm as if her touch burned. Zelda felt shame flare up in her chest as she again remembered her bedraggled appearance; he must think her unladylike behavior disgusting. She was grateful he was no one she knew; she couldn’t imagine how much damage to her social standing this would cause were he an acquaintance. But that all was forgotten when he bent down and began to remove his boots and stockings.
“Please, allow me,” he said. She watched, wide-eyed, as he waded into the water, his fine breeches soaking up the muddy pond water, quickly staining the white fabric a dull brown. He gathered the slimy octorock parts, marking his coat with monster ooze and pond scum, and returned to her at the shore, looking at her expectantly.
“Oh, thank you!” she said, reaching out to collect the monster parts from him.
He looked amused. “Perhaps there is room in your basket?”
Her bizarre morning was leaving her feeling flustered, and she made a heroic effort to gather her scattered thoughts. “Oh, yes, of course!” she said with a breathy laugh, attempting to pull herself together and present herself as a rational being.
She grabbed her basket and quickly shoved its contents aside to make room, spreading her handkerchief on the bottom in an attempt to protect her purchases. He raised an eyebrow at the odd assortment, tissue wrapped parcels disguising elegant gloves and ribbons mixed with corked bottles and jars and pincers and scalpels, but he made no comment. He gently placed the octorock pieces in the basket and pulled the edges of the handkerchief around them.
Distracted again by what he placed in the basket, she gave one of the purple organs an experimental poke. “I have read that the air bladder of an octorock can be inflated and used to lift heavy objects into the air,” she said. “I think that could have many uses, perhaps lifting large rocks and tree stumps to clear land for farm work. Of course I would need to conduct experiments with different objects of various weights …”
She broke off her musing as she glanced up to find herself under the scrutiny of those blue eyes again. She grew flustered again under his gaze, his eyebrows raised at her in … surprise? Amusement? Alarm? She wasn’t sure. Zelda quickly looked away from him, feeling a distinct desire to hide, turning her eyes to the ground. She then noticed the water dripping from his fine clothes. Now she’d made a mess of him, too. Embarrassed, she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and thrust it at him, pressing it into his hand. Zelda’s maid knew her habits well by now and always made sure her pockets were stocked with several handkerchiefs, all embroidered in the corner with her initials.
“Oh no, your clothes! You’re all wet! Please, accept my handkerchief, and my thanks, for your assistance today,” she said in a rush. She was nearing the limit of her tolerance for the increasingly odd events of the afternoon and escaping for home became all she could think of. She quickly gathered her stockings and boots and stuffed them in her basket. “But I must be going!”
She scurried off, angling away through the road and deciding to cut through the fields instead. She stumbled through the brush, wanting to run but instead maintaining a speedy walk in an attempt to maintain some of her dignity. She would not literally run away from him. He called after her to wait, but she pretended to not hear him and continued her dash for home. She felt awash in shame and humiliation, cursing the rude octorock and its mud spitting boulders and herself for her awkward ways.
As she fled she realized she had never asked his name, never introduced herself. She was uncertain whether she should be embarrassed or relieved at the realization. Because if the goddesses cared for her at all, she would never see him again and the matter could be behind her forever.