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Link's breaths slowed, becoming long and deep, indicating he was finally (probably…hopefully?) asleep. The faintest whisper of cloth was the only sound Zelda made as she extracted herself from her bedroll and tiptoed to where Link was resting against the log by their campfire, the Master Sword propped by his side.
It had called to her earlier, she was almost certain, while praying in the Spring of Courage. Burning curiosity compelled her to investigate.
She reached for the hilt, breath frozen, and inch by agonizing inch drew it stealthily from the scabbard. Feeling every bit a thief, she finally dared to inhale again once she had stolen away to the opposite side of the ruins and hidden in a copse of trees.
Zelda ran her hand along the flat of the blade, desperate to hear the voice (or anything at all) again. Its pristine, mirror-like surface glowed brightly in the full moon light, but remained deafeningly silent.
Instead, it presented her with a haggard, ethereal reflection illuminated in the soft light: baggy, sunken eyes born of sleepless nights. Wind-mussed and tangled blonde hair. Blanched skin from skipped meals.
A wraith, not a princess. Inadequate. Unworthy. Useless. Wretched.
Now she understood why the sword had called. It wanted to silently pass its judgment on her too, just like the Knight who wielded it. She scowled at the ghost of her reflection as anger boiled in her stomach at the ignominy of yet another reminder of yet another day of failure.
"Why?" she whispered silently to the blade as stinging tears began to blur her vision. "Why?" Her fists clenched tightly around the hilt as the dam holding back her emotions finally collapsed, the rage and frustration sweeping her away in the flood waters.
"Why?! WHY?!" she sobbed. "Dammit, Hylia, what more will it take!?” She swung the sword with a feral howl and embedded it deeply into the nearest tree trunk with a gratifying THUNK! She ripped it free with some difficulty and wound up for another swing.
“Just tell me what you want from me already!”
WHACK!
"What else must I do?!"
WHACK!
“Is there something wrong with me!?”
WHACK!
The primal satisfaction urged her onward with cathartic abandon, and she heaved her whole body into another wide-arcing swing.
“Why won't you give me a sign?!”
CLANG!
Her last blow glanced off the bark instead of taking another satiating bite of timber, sending sharp reverberations straight up her arms. She yelped in pain, dropping the sword on a stone, its metallic ring clashing loudly against the silence of the night as it echoed through the ruins.
She stared at it dumbly for a moment, massaging her ulnar nerves yet relishing the burn in her muscles. The gleaming polish Link had spent over an hour attaining lay marred in dirt and sticky tree sap at her feet.
"Oh, just perfect," she hissed at herself, sniffling and angrily wiping away the residual tear streaks with the heel of her palm.
"If you adjust your stance just a little bit, you can get more power and control behind your swing," intoned a gentle voice from behind her.
“Link!?” Zelda gasped, wheeling around to face him.
Where had he suddenly come from? How long had he been listening? Had he seen…
"I can teach you how, if you'd like," he continued in a tone reminiscent of the one he used to soothe their horses.
Her cheeks flushed. "I, n-no, that’s quite alright." There was no way to play off this embarrassment, she'd really outdone herself this time. "I'm sorry I took it from you without permission, I just wanted to examine it and I, um. I'll just- here," she picked it up, fumbling awkwardly and only just managed to hand it to him without dropping it in the dirt again.
He immediately extended the hilt back to her. "It's alright, Princess. Keep swinging and let it all out. Helps clear the mind."
"No, Ser Link," she said, pushing it away. "That outburst was unbecoming of me. Please accept my apologies for abusing your sword and causing you needless alarm."
Link merely shook his head. "If you're the goddess incarnate, then s'far as I'm concerned that means it's your sword. You'd be well within your rights to use it as a bottle opener if you wanted."
She stared at him in disbelief. Was this genuine kindness? After she'd given him nothing but vitriol for months?
"I could teach you to do that trick, too," he grinned hopefully.
By The Three, it was.
It was infuriating how suddenly she found herself unable to be furious with him anymore, not since what had happened in the desert. Did he hold nothing against her? Had she been misreading his silent demeanor all along? The weight and realization of her misjudgment landed, bringing guilt and shame back to the fore.
But the words "You mean it?" tumbled from her lips before she could arrest her tongue.
"Of course, Princess, I'd lo-" he stumbled over his choice of words. (I'd love to?) "It would be my pleasure."
Sword lessons? From him? A fantasy formed of him standing behind her, his calloused palms on her soft hands, guiding her through proper form…Oh. Oh no. That would certainly not clear her mind. His proximity threatened to intoxicate her on the spot.
"The Sword is yours anytime you need it…or I could get you something a little more tailored to you to practice with, if you want?"
That might have been the most considerate thing anyone had said to her in ages. Her eyes lit up as she finally accepted the offered sword, heart fluttering as she gave a breathless answer. "I think..."
(I'd love to!)
"I think I would like that very much."
The sword pulsed suddenly, delivering a wordless message into her palm.
Reassurance. Warmth. Calm.
A new feeling began to displace her despair, one she hadn't felt since she was a little girl.
One almost alien:
Hope.