Chapter Text
Zelda had been in the fields of action before, looking over newly discovered Ancient Sheikah artifacts. But she didn’t expect to see how raw it really was to be in a military encampment.
Smoke drifted from the nearby fire pits, mingling with damp earth and wet canvas until the scent seemed to settle in the back of her throat. The storm had followed them since their departure from Hyrule Castle that morning, dark clouds gathering overhead in thick gray sheets that turned the fields dull and colorless. Mysterious streaks of a dark red, painted within the clouds.
She pulled her cloak tighter around herself as her mare carried her deeper into the encampment. Mud sucked at the horses' hooves. The end of autumn was fast approaching, the chill wind was an unpleasant addition to the already horrid weather. A slight shiver ran through her body from the cold air. Well… from that and from the lingering glances in her direction.
Soldiers moved between rows of tents, their boots carving fresh tracks into pathways already worn by weeks of traffic. Somewhere nearby steel rang against steel as men trained despite the threat of rain. Beyond that came the constant murmur of voices, hundreds of soldiers preparing for another day.
The war had loomed over Hyrule's head more than not. With the recent attack from the Malice-corrupted Kingdom, the borders of Hyrule had been pushed to its limits. Though the fight to keep them out had only just begun.
Heads turned as she passed, whispers following shortly after. Zelda ignored them.
The Queen of Hyrule visiting a military camp was enough to spark curiosity from even the most disciplined soldier.
Zelda wore a deep blue riding dress, elegant enough for a queen but practical for the journey. Gold embroidery traced the fitted bodice and sleeves, while a dark cloak bearing the royal crest rested over her shoulders. Instead of a formal crown, a delicate gold circlet sat among her partially braided hair, while the rest flowed down her back. Dark leather boots disappeared beneath her skirts, already marked with mud from the ride.
At the center of the encampment stood a large strategy table covered in maps, reports, and weighted markers. Several commanders surrounded it, speaking over one another as they pointed to various locations scattered across Hyrule.
And at the center of them all stood Link.
Even from a distance, he was impossible to miss. A golden crown rested upon his head. His brilliant sword strapped across his back. But with the effects of war, he looked thoroughly worn out, still wearing parts of his armor. His hair was thick with grime, his skin coated in sweat and dirt. Even hints of blood stained across his clothing.
A tall, dark-haired older man seemed to be discussing urgent matters with him. Zelda wasn’t too familiar with him, though she knew he was another general. General Arn? Something like that. He had a place in the council, but rarely attended. Link listened to what he was suggesting, nodding at every other sentence.
Another man, younger, pointed at the map, probably suggesting a certain plan. She had seen him plenty of times before actually. Yes, he was a new member of the council, an associate for General Arn. The Guard seemed to have doubled since the war increased more risks. The young man was exceptional though. He had good ideas. Zelda had talked to him a few times, and he was always kind to her. She didn’t quite remember his name. He did, however, seem close to Link.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Link said something Zelda couldn't hear. Immediately the conversation shifted.As orders were given, the soldiers in the vicinity moved. The entire camp seemed to have adjusted around him. Efficient and confident, and annoyingly competent. The same way he had always been.
The same way her father had always praised him for being. A familiar irritation stirred somewhere beneath her ribs. She didn’t dwell on the thought. She already had enough on her mind.
As her party approached, one of the guards stepped forward and offered his hand. Zelda accepted it, dismounting gracefully from her mare before smoothing a wrinkle from her cloak.
The commanders turned and noticed her. Their conversation died instantly. One by one they dropped to their knees.
"Your Majesty." The greeting echoed around the table.
Zelda inclined her head politely. "Rise."
As the officers stood, another figure turned. Link.
For a moment, they just stood there.
Since the start of their newly founded marriage, she still never quite knew what to expect whenever they found themselves alone together. Or as alone as two monarchs could ever be.
His expression shifted, surprised to find her standing before him. Then, just as quickly, the surprise vanished behind a practiced composure. He crossed the distance between them. Every commander nearby seemed to suddenly shift to find something very interesting to look at.
Link reached for her hand. His fingers were warm despite the cold air. He lifted it. Then pressed a brief kiss against her knuckles. The gesture was perfectly proper and respectful. Perfectly royal.
For some reason, that only made it worse.
"Your Majesty," he greeted.
His bright blue eyes met hers.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your arrival?” He cleared his throat. “I don’t think it is quite safe for you to be here…"
For a moment, Zelda simply stared at him. The question should not have caught her off guard. And yet it had. Perhaps it was the hand kiss. No no. Not that. Or perhaps it was the fact that he sounded genuinely surprised to see her. However, why wouldn’t she be there? On the front lines of her own kingdom. She was their Queen now, after all.
Well, she did have a reason to be here. She had information to bring to him that she had desperately wanted to give in person. No other messenger would have explained it the way she had needed it to be. Though she could only perceive his remark as if she were too delicate to be here, better yet, useless in these times of war.
“Husband.” She inclined her head politely, offering the small smile expected of a queen. The smile faltered slightly as he released the grip on her hand.
“The scouts recovered something after the attack,” she continued. “A piece of Sheikah machinery, or what remains of one. According to their report, the Malice surrounding it behaved unlike anything we’ve documented before.” She adjusted the clasp of her cloak. “I find problems are easier to understand when one is standing in front of them rather than reading about them.”
Her gaze drifted towards the maps spread across the table. Pins and hastily scribbled notes were scattered around the maps.
Link followed her gaze. His expression tightened. “You came all this way for that?”
“I came because I am one of the only people in Hyrule who has spent the last couple of years studying both ancient Sheikah technology and the effects of Malice upon it. This is the most recent unearthing we’ve had. If we want real answers, it needs to be studied now.” Her eyes narrowed.
“So yes, Link. I came all this way for that.” She gave a strained smile.
Link stared at her. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.
“I know how important this is to you, though I can’t help but wonder if this is the safest place for you to be at the moment, Zelda.”
Zelda resisted the urge to sigh. Here we go again.
“I assure you, I am capable of surviving a military camp.”
“That isn't what concerns me.” His tone remained frustratingly calm. “The area is active. We’ve had attacks less than a day's ride from here,” he continued.
Zelda glanced over at the men in the room. General Arn had become very interested in studying the map, while the other appeared determined to inspect a nearby crate. Cowards.
She looked back at him. “Is it not slightly hypocritical for you to lecture me on personal safety, Your Majesty?” There was a certain tone in her voice.
Something flickered across Link’s expression. He clenched his jaw. “I suppose it is.” That wasn’t a response she had expected. Zelda blinked. Link merely gestured toward the table.
“Well, where is it?” Zelda asked.
“East of the camp. Near the ruins.”
“Then take me there.”
Link’s expression barely changed. “No.”
Her brows rose. “No?”
“The eastern ridge hasn’t been cleared.”
“I am not asking whether it has been cleared. I need to examine what they found before someone decides to move it.” Her voice became more frustrated as the last of her willpower faded the longer they argued this nonsense.
“And I need to know there aren’t more Lizalfos waiting in the trees before I send anyone back there.” He gave her a tense look. His brows started to furrow with slight irritation.
Zelda folded her arms. “The Malice surrounding it is changing. If the scouts’ report is accurate, moving it could destroy whatever is causing the reaction.”
“Which is why I ordered them not to touch it.”
Link turned toward the map spread across the table and placed two fingers against the eastern ridge. “We lost sight of a group here after the attack. Until my scouts return, I don’t know whether they fled beyond the border or circled south. If it’s the latter, the ruins are directly in their path.”
Zelda stepped closer to the map. Her irritation remained, though it had lost some of its footing.
“The Malice isn’t spreading east…” she said.
Link looked at her. “What?”
She pointed farther north. “According to the samples sent to the castle, its concentration increases here. If it were spreading naturally from the corrupted territory, the eastern deposits would be stronger.”
“They aren’t?”
“They’re weaker.” Zelda traced the markings with one finger. “Which means it isn’t spreading.”
Link studied the map again.
“It’s moving,” she finished.
For the first time since she'd arrived, his attention shifted completely from the danger of her presence to what she was saying.
“Toward what?”
“That,” Zelda said quietly, “is what I came here to find out.”
✦ THREE MONTHS EARLIER✦
Wood cracked against wood.
Link caught Rowan’s practice sword against his own, twisted his wrist, and sent the weapon skidding across the dirt. For a moment, Rowan only stared at the empty space in his hand.
“You know,” he said, slightly out of breath, “there are less irritating ways to prove you’re better than me.”
Link lowered his sword. “You left your side open.”
“Well, I was simply distracted”
“By what?”
Rowan glanced around the training yard as if the answer might be hiding among the other soldiers. “I’ll think of something.”
Link let out a short, quiet huff.
Around them, the morning drills continued without pause. Steel rang from the neighboring yard, boots struck packed earth, and somewhere behind the barracks a commanding officer was loudly informing a recruit of every mistake he had been apparently been making.
Rowan retrieved his discarded sword from the ground. He stood back into position.
“One more.”
“You said that three rounds ago.”
“And eventually I’ll mean it.”
Link smiled.
“Come on, Hero.”
Link gave a brief, sharp exhale.
“Right,” he corrected, lifting his sword again. “Come on, Link.”
Rowan came at him harder the second time. Link had expected it. What he hadn't expected was the sudden change in direction. Rowan swung high, forcing Link to raise his sword, then abandoned the strike entirely and drove his shoulder into Link's chest.
Link stumbled back.
Rowan grinned. “There.”
Link steadied himself. “There what?”
“I surprised you.”
“You shoved me.”
“And you were surprised, right?”
Link couldn't argue with that.
Rowan attacked again before he could answer. Their wooden swords cracked together, once, twice, then again. This time Rowan gave him little room to think. He knew Link too well for that. Every time Link tried to create distance, Rowan closed it. When Link moved for his left side, Rowan was already there to meet him.
That was the problem with fighting someone you'd trained beside for years. Eventually, they learned your tricks.
Rowan knocked Link's sword aside and swung for his ribs.
Link barely twisted away. The wooden blade caught the edge of his tunic instead.
“Getting slow now are we, Link?” Rowan said.
“Getting loud.”
“Oh come on, you know I've always been loud.”
Rowan swung again.
Link ducked beneath it, stepped inside his reach, and caught Rowan's wrist. A twist, a sweep of his leg, and Rowan hit the dirt with a grunt once again.
Link's practice sword stopped against his chest.
Rowan stared up at him.
“I hate you.”
Link offered him a hand. “No, you don't.”
Rowan took it. “Give me another round and I might.” Link pulled him to his feet.
They abandoned their swords near the training rack and crossed toward the water barrels at the edge of the yard. Rowan immediately dunked his head beneath the ladle before drinking from it.
Link watched him, wishing he could unsee it. His eyebrows drew together as a grimace of pure disgust crossed his face.
“That was for drinking.”
“What? It's a hot day.”
“You're honestly disgusting, Rowan.”
“And yet, my friend, you continue spending time with me.” Rowan gave a smirk.
Link put down his cup.
Rowan leaned against the barrel, still catching his breath. “It's fundamentally unfair, you know.”
“What is?” Link raised a brow.
“Fighting you.”
“We had the same weapon.”
“Well you have the Master Sword.”
Link glanced toward the practice swords they'd left behind. “But I wasn't even using it.”
“That's irrelevant.”
“How?”
“Because I say it is.”
Link shook his head, sighing.
“Sir Link?”
He turned.
A younger soldier stood a few feet away, practice sword held awkwardly at his side. The boy couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen, and judging by the way his shoulders stiffened the moment Link looked at him, he immediately regretted speaking.
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if you could...” His eyes flicked toward Rowan before returning to Link. “My guard. General Arn keeps telling me I'm leaving my right side open.”
“Because you are,” a voice called from behind them.
The recruit went pale. General Arn approached with his arms folded.
Link hid his amusement.
Arn stopped beside the boy. “Show him.” The recruit raised his sword.
Link studied his stance for a moment before stepping closer. “Your feet.” The boy looked down. “They're too close together.” Link nudged one boot outward with his own.
“Again.”
The recruit reset his stance.
“Better. Don't turn your shoulder so far when you strike. You're giving your opponent somewhere to aim before you've even swung.”
The boy tried again. This time Link nodded.
“Keep practicing.”
“Yes, sir.”
The recruit hurried back toward the others. Arn watched him go before looking at Link.
“You know, you dropped your guard twice while sparring with Rowan here.”
Rowan nearly choked on his water.
Link sighed. “I know.”
Arn’s brow lifted. “Then you know better.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Knowing where you went wrong means very little if you make the same mistake tomorrow.” His gaze sharpened. “You’re too skilled to rely on your opponent being slower than you.”
Link gave a small nod. “It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
Rowan lifted a hand. “For the record, General, he still put me on my ass in thirty seconds.”
Arn looked at him.
“That says considerably more about you than it does about him.”
Rowan lowered his hand. “Right. Of course.”
Arn moved on without another word.
Rowan waited until he was several paces away. “Aww, wasn’t that sweet, Link? I think that's the closest he's ever come to telling you he cares for you.”
Link gave him a flat look.
“What? I'm serious. Give it another ten years and he might just compliment you.”
They started toward the barracks.
“Are you going home this week?” Rowan asked.
“If we're not sent east.”
“Is Aryll still angry with you?”
Link frowned. “She's not angry with me.”
“She told me you missed your annual family dinner.”
“I was working.”
“For the second time, Link.”
Link looked at him. “Wait. Why are you discussing my family with my sister?”
“Because, unlike you, she's actually pleasant company. And I did run into her in Castle Town with your mother a couple weeks ago.”
Link shoved his shoulder. Rowan laughed.
It was stupid. Completely stupid. But that's what having a friend like Rowan was. He kept things interesting at least.
Link chuckled anyway.
“Sir Link!”
The voice carried across the training yard.
Link stopped. He turned in the direction of the voice. A man wearing the colors of the royal household was approaching from the gate, weaving between soldiers with considerably more urgency than Link liked.
Rowan glanced at him. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“That's exactly what someone who's done something would say.”
The messenger stopped before them and bowed.
“Sir Link. His Majesty requests your presence at the castle.”
Link’s stomach dropped. A cold weight plunging right into his gut.
“When?”
“Immediately, sir.”
Something had happened. His first thought was the eastern border. Had it been attacked? Did they need to send him over right away? He had just gotten back a week ago. Aryll would have to wait on family dinner again.
“Was there another attack?”
“Not that I have been informed of.”
Link frowned. Then what could Rhoam possibly want with him?
The messenger hesitated before adding, “General Barrett has also been asked to attend.”
Link went still. His father? Barrett had been retired for years now. Why would he be summoned to meet with the King, along with him?
Beside him, Rowan's expression changed.
“Well,” Rowan said after a moment, clapping Link once on the shoulder. “It was an honor knowing you, dear friend.”
Link looked at him.
“Tell His Majesty I always spoke highly of you.”
“You don't, though.”
“Then perhaps don't mention me.” He gave two thumbs up.
Link turned to follow the messenger. The training grounds became a faint sound in the distance. Worried thoughts began to spiral through his head. What could he possibly be asked? Whatever it was couldn’t be that bad, could it?
The council chamber was too quiet. Link noticed it before the doors had even closed behind him. King Rhoam sat at the head of the long table, Chancellor Aldren standing near his right shoulder. Neither surprised him. However, the presence of his father sure did. What could he possibly be here for?
Barrett stood beside one of the tall windows, hands clasped behind his back. He had exchanged the comfortable clothes of retirement for a dark formal coat bearing the crest of their house.
Link slowed. His father met his eyes. He looked at Link with a totally blank expression, though his eyes seemed unusually heavy. Something had to be wrong. Link felt even more uneasy.
“Your Majesty.” Link bowed.
“Sir Link.” Rhoam gestured toward the empty chair opposite him. “Please have a seat.”
Link obeyed and sat down on the open chair.
His eyes returned briefly to Barrett. His father gave the smallest shake of his head. Wait. That wasn't reassuring at all. Link tried thinking back to everything he’d ever done. What could this meeting possibly be about? Had he made a mistake, or a bad decision? He hadn't broken any laws as far as he knew. The anticipation burned a hole into his stomach. He ached to find out. Should he try asking?
“Has something happened at the eastern border in Akkala?” Link asked.
“No.”
“The southern watch?”
“No.”
Link frowned.
Rhoam leaned back slightly. The movement seemed to cost him more effort than it should have. Link could tell the pain in his expression.
“What we discuss today concerns a different threat to Hyrule.”
Link waited.
“If it hadn’t been apparent before, my health is worsening.”
The words landed differently than Link expected.
Everyone knew the King was ill. The council had done an admirable job of disguising how much his condition had deteriorated, but soldiers noticed things. Fewer public appearances. Shorter meetings. Orders delivered through advisers that once would have come directly from Rhoam.
Still, hearing him say it plainly was different.
“How serious is it, Your Majesty?”
“Serious enough that we must prepare for the possibility that Princess Zelda assumes the throne sooner than anticipated.” He coughed into a napkin in his hand.
Link's attention sharpened. “If you're concerned about the transition, I can speak with General Arn. We can increase the castle guard and prepare additional forces for the capital.”
Aldren spoke for the first time. “Soldiers cannot solve every vulnerability, Sir Link.”
Link looked toward him. “If I may, Chancellor, I didn't say that they could. I am simply implying that–”
Something almost resembling displeasure crossed Aldren's face. Rhoam continued before either man could say more.
“Zelda would inherit a kingdom already at war. Our enemies know this. So do our allies.” He sighed.
Link understood that much.
Foreign courts had become increasingly bold as Hyrule's position weakened. Trade negotiations had grown harsher. Aid came with unnecessary conditions. Even military intelligence occasionally included reports of neighboring rulers questioning what would happen when Rhoam died.
“The Princess will need a secure succession,” Rhoam said.
Link nodded slowly.
“She will need a husband,” Aldren added.
Link's gaze moved between them. That was considerably less his concern. At least, he had assumed it was. What did they need from him? Recommendations?
Rhoam explained the foreign proposals. Princes. Noble houses. Offers dressed as alliances that would place another kingdom dangerously close to Hyrule's throne.
“So, what you're saying is, you intend to choose someone within Hyrule?” Link said.
“Yes.”
It made sense. A Hylian noble would eliminate the possibility of another kingdom gaining direct influence over Zelda through marriage. Still, Link didn't understand why he was here.
“Do you have anyone in mind? Or have you chosen yet?”
Rhoam looked directly at him.
“We have.”
Something in Barrett's expression changed.
Link saw it. Fuck. Suddenly he didn't like the direction this conversation was moving.
Rhoam folded his hands upon the table. “I would have you as her husband.”
The room fell into a tense, suffocating silence.
Link stared at him. For perhaps the first time in his life, absolutely nothing came to mind.
He must have misunderstood. He looked toward Aldren. The Chancellor's expression remained perfectly composed. Then toward his father. Barrett looked back at him. And Link understood.
“You knew about this?” It came out quieter than he intended.
Barrett stepped away from the window. “I was consulted.”
Link looked back toward the King.
“Why?”
Rhoam's brow furrowed. “Why what?”
“Why me, Your Majesty?”
Aldren answered.
“You are of noble birth, Sir Link. Your family has served the Crown for generations. You possess no allegiance to any foreign throne as far as we know. You have the confidence of the Guard, the respect of the people, and, whether you enjoy acknowledging it or not, you bear the sword of Hylia's chosen Hero.”
Each reason felt less like an answer and more like another lock turning in his head.
Rhoam continued.
“You have proven yourself loyal to this kingdom. More importantly, I trust that you would protect my daughter as fiercely as you have protected Hyrule.”
Link was quiet. Protect Zelda. He had already sworn to do that. But marriage? That was something else entirely.
His gaze lowered briefly to the table. Then another thought struck him.
“Does the Princess know? That I am to be her husband?”
Nobody answered immediately. Link looked up.
Rhoam's expression did not change. “She will, in due time.”
Link's jaw tightened. “She doesn't know?”
“Well I intend to speak with her today.”
“After asking me.”
“Well I needed to know whether you would accept the proposal before presenting the arrangement to her.”
Link glanced toward his father. Barrett's expression had hardened slightly. So he didn't like it either. That helped very little.
“And what would happen if I refused?” It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Refusing a king’s proposal, a marriage proposal in fact, would seem like an early trip to the grave.
Aldren shifted, but Rhoam answered. “Then another arrangement will be made.”
There it was. A choice. Technically? If he chose to refuse, then he would be off the hook.
However, Link thought of the reports arriving every morning from the border. Of villages being evacuated farther west, and the panic that spread with it. Of soldiers who hadn't returned from patrol and were yet to be accounted for.
He thought of Rhoam barely being able to shift in his chair without hiding his pain. He didn’t even know if he was well enough to be sitting here talking. The King should be resting and trying to recover. But yet, here he was, because of the unfortunate situation Hyrule is in. A situation he could try to change.
He thought of Zelda inheriting all of it. If it is already hard on Rhoam, Goddess knew how hard it would be on her. She would be doing it all on her own while dealing with the war they were already fighting. And what if her eventual husband was some snobby nobleman who would rather drink and drown in luxury than help his own kingdom? He knew that was how almost all the other noblemen his age acted. That would be a disaster. She didn’t deserve that. He would use everything in his power to help support that weight. If he were to agree, of course.
And he thought of the sword waiting at his back. Was it not his purpose to serve this very land? Protect it at all costs? Apparently, the interpretation of how he would serve hadn’t been very clear.There always seemed to be something Hyrule required of him. Whether it was on the battlefield, or giving commands to his troops. Or the duty of the fucking sword on his back. And now this.
Link lifted his eyes to the King.
“If this is what Hyrule requires of me...”
Rhoam didn't hesitate. “It does.” Link was silent again. Then he nodded.
“Then I will accept your arrangement, Your Majesty.”
Rhoam gave a satisfied grunt. “Very well then. You've made a great choice, Sir Link. Preparations will begin tomorrow, along with your transition out of your station.”
Link nodded. Somewhere within the castle, Princess Zelda was going about her day. And yet, she had no idea that by nightfall she would be promised to him.
Zelda had lost the blueprints. Again.
She stared at the surface of her desk, though calling it a desk had become increasingly generous. If she were being honest, it wasn’t that bad… unlike the desk in her study. She couldn’t deny that it had become overrun with her research. She eventually had to move more things to the desk in her room.
Three open books occupied one corner, several loose pages had disappeared beneath an abandoned cup of tea, and an ancient Sheikah component sat dangerously close to the edge.
She knew the blueprints were there. Somewhere.
“Don't. Even. Say. A. Word.”
Purah, seated across the room with a book balanced against one knee, looked up. “I haven't even said anything.”
“Well, I know you were going to.”
“I was going to ask how the future ruler of Hyrule manages to lose something without it ever leaving the room,” she snorted a small laugh.
“I haven't lost it.”
“Ah. Of course, Princess.”
“I've just temporarily misplaced it, that's all.”
“Oh yeah, much better.”
Zelda ignored her and lifted another stack of papers. Nothing.
She frowned.
The diagrams concerned one of the ancient mechanisms recently recovered near Hyrule's eastern territories in Akkala. Most of the machinery was damaged beyond use, but that wasn't what interested her. It was the residue found inside it.
Malice.
In its physical form, it was a thick, poisonous mire of black and magenta sludge. But as it neared any dormant machine, the heavy ooze thinned. It crept up ancient structures like veins, spreading outwards in jagged tendrils to choke out and corrupt everything it touches.
However, it was quite different in the devices they had recently found. There hadn't been enough to corrupt this particular device completely. It was barely enough to be visible, according to the soldiers who had recovered it. But it was there. And that didn't make sense.
Zelda finally found the missing blueprints beneath a book she'd already checked twice.
“Oh! There it is.”
Purah glanced over. “A miraculous recovery, Princess.”
“I knew where they were.”
“Right…”
Zelda spread the parchment across the desk and leaned over it.
The familiar blue lines of Sheikah construction crossed the page, intricate enough that she'd spent the better part of three days attempting to understand how the pieces interacted. Her finger followed one of the channels running toward the center.
“Hmm. The energy should have stopped here.”
Purah abandoned her book. That got her attention. She crossed the room and leaned over Zelda's shoulder.
“Wait. What do you mean it should have?”
“The internal chamber was fractured.”
“During excavation?”
“Before.”
Purah studied the blueprint. Zelda reached for one of her notes.
“If Malice entered after the damage occurred, it should have settled inside the broken chamber. Instead, traces were found throughout the conduits.”
Purah's expression changed.
“So, it traveled through them?”
“Exactly.”
“But that's not possible.”
Zelda looked at her. Purah grinned.
Zelda narrowed her eyes. “You enjoy saying that far too much.”
“Because you make that face every time I do.”
“What face?”
“That one.”
Zelda rolled her eyes and returned to the blueprint.
“The conduits were designed to carry Sheikah energy. If Malice is capable of using the same pathways-”
“Then it isn't merely corrupting the technology.”
Zelda looked up. Purah’s grin fell. Her face had gone serious now. For several seconds, they stood quietly. Zelda turned back toward the diagram.
“It may be interacting with it. Less like corruption and more like possession.”
There was something exhilarating about finding a question nobody had answered yet. Zelda knew that for a fact. Making discoveries was not only good for their cause, but also good for her. For a few precious moments, she could simply forget the mountain of expectations threatening to bury her. Simply doing what she could.
There was only one problem in front of her. And problems could be studied.
“Before you disappear into that for another six hours,” Purah said, “you have somewhere to be.”
Zelda's concentration broke.
“What? I do not.”
Purah pointed. Zelda followed her finger. A prayer book sat on the corner of the desk.
Her mood soured immediately.
“Oh.”
“Very convincing enthusiasm.”
Zelda sighed. “I don’t know how much prayer I could possibly keep doing.”
“I know, Princess.”
“And it's not like anything is going to happen anyway.”
“Shocking.”
Zelda gave her a look.
Purah raised both hands in defense. “I'm merely reporting the evidence.”
Zelda closed the blueprint harder than necessary.
Prayer. Meditation. Sacred springs. Ancient texts. Lessons from priests who spoke endlessly about “opening her heart to a Goddess!” or whatever bullshit they’d told her. Of course, like the Goddess hadn’t apparently misplaced her entirely. She had tried all of it. Still, every morning, she woke exactly as powerless as she'd been the night before.
“I'll just… go later.”
“It would take a fool to believe that.” Purah laughed. “Once you get into that… ‘zone’ there's no stopping you, Princess.”
Zelda groaned.
“It’ll come eventually, Princess.”
“I suppose you're right. Father would spiral if he learned I’d skipped one of my prayers.”
Purah's eyes wandered toward another book half-buried beneath Zelda's notes.
She reached for it. Zelda saw the cover.
“Wait! No!”
Too late. Purah pulled it free. Her grin was immediate.
Zelda snatched for it. Oh, she should have never left the damn thing out. “Give me that!”
Purah held it away. “The Knight of the Silver Vale?”
“Purah.”
“I thought we were researching ancient technology.”
“We are.”
“Does the Knight of the Silver Vale contain some revolutionary information about Sheikah energy?”
“It contains information about you minding your own business.”
Purah laughed.
Zelda finally managed to take the novel from her and shoved it beneath another stack of papers.
“It is a perfectly respectable book.”
“Right. Of course, Your Highness.” Purah gave a smirk.
“It is,” She glared.
“I’m sure you reached the kissing chapter remarkably quickly.”
Zelda stared at her, trying her best to shove the blush creeping up her cheeks back down.
Purah's grin widened.
A knock at the door saved Zelda from committing an act unbecoming of the future Queen of Hyrule.
“Enter.”
The door opened. One of her father's attendants bowed.
“Your Highness. His Majesty requests your presence.”
Zelda's embarrassment had vanished.
“Now?”
“At your earliest convenience.”
Which, when coming from her father, meant immediately.
“Did he say why?”
“No, Your Highness.”
Of course he hadn't. Zelda glanced toward the prayer book.
Perhaps someone had reported that she'd missed another morning at the temple. Or perhaps he'd received another report regarding her progress. Or lack thereof. Wonderful.
Purah leaned toward her after the attendant departed. “Perhaps he's finally decided you're brilliant.”
Zelda stood.
“Then his deliriousness has definitely worsened.”
Purah snorted.
Zelda crossed toward the small mirror beside the shelves.
The woman staring back at her looked nothing like the princess who had entered the study that morning. Several strands of hair had escaped around her face. There was ink along the side of her hand, and she found another faint mark near her cheek.
She rubbed it away. Then she straightened the front of her dress. Smoothed her hair. Lifted her chin. By the time she reached the door, the transformation was complete.
Purah watched her.
“Good luck, Princess.”
Zelda rested her hand against the door handle.
“With my father?”
“With whatever expression you're about to make when he tells you why he summoned you.”
Zelda sighed.
“I assure you, nothing he says could possibly surprise me anymore.” She opened the door. She would remember saying that.
Zelda knew something was wrong the moment she entered her father's chambers. Chancellor Aldren was there. Oh what a dreadful man he was. What had she done to deserve both of them in the same room? Whenever the two of them were together, Zelda just knew she was going to be lectured by this tag team for all she hadn't accomplished. His presence wasn't unusual. Finding him beside her father had become almost as predictable as finding a shadow beneath one's feet.
What unsettled her was the empty chair waiting across from them. For her.
“Father.”
King Rhoam looked up.
“Zelda. Sit.”
Not good afternoon, my daughter, or how are your studies progressing?
Sit. How delightful. Already this was going great. If she could roll her eyes, they'd roll so far up her head she'd probably find her dormant powers in there.
Zelda lowered herself into the chair and folded her hands neatly in her lap.
“You wished to see me?”
“I did.”
Rhoam exchanged a brief glance with Aldren.
Zelda noticed. Her stomach tightened. This can’t be good.
“If this concerns the temple, for my prayers, I intend to go this evening.”
“It does not concern the temple, Zelda.”
Her shoulders loosened slightly.
“This concerns the succession.”
They tightened again. Rhoam leaned back.
“My condition has continued to worsen.”
Zelda's irritation disappeared. She looked at him properly then.
Her father had always seemed larger seated upon the throne. Immovable, almost. Yet lately his clothes seemed to hang differently from his shoulders, probably due to the amount of weight he’d rapidly lost. There were shadows beneath his eyes that no amount of royal presentation could disguise. He looked so much more exhausted.
“How much worse?”
“The physicians remain uncertain.” Which wasn't an answer.
Zelda leaned forward. “Have they tried the treatment from Kakariko? Impa mentioned-”
“We are not here to discuss my treatment, Zelda.”
Her mouth closed. Of course they weren't.
Rhoam continued. “We must prepare for the possibility that you assume the throne sooner than either of us anticipated.”
Zelda swallowed. “I know.”
“Knowing and preparing are not the same.”
Aldren's voice.
Zelda looked toward him. There he goes again. Goddess, he was more annoying than usual today. “I am aware, Chancellor.”
He inclined his head. Rhoam continued before she could say more.
“There are matters concerning Hyrule's stability that can no longer be delayed.”
“What matters are you talking about, Father?”
“Your marriage.”
Zelda blinked. Of all the answers she'd expected, that had not been one of them.
“My... marriage.”
“Yes.”
She looked between the two men. She did NOT expect to be having such a conversation, now of all times. She had thought she had a few more years left, at the very least. But now? Was she even ready for that? Questions flooded her brain as she tried to process what she had just been told.
“I wasn't aware I had any proposals.” Maybe she could play coy? Would manipulating him into thinking she hadn’t known make him feel bad? Probably not.
Aldren's mouth tightened. Rhoam did not appear amused.
“You have received multiple proposals.”
“Father, I have received invitations to dinners. That… that is simply not the same?!”
“You have received proposals, Zelda,” Rhoam repeated.
Zelda stared at him.
Apparently several foreign houses had expressed interest in an alliance through marriage. Some she'd heard about. Others, evidently, had never reached her. Her irritation began returning.
“If this is about choosing a future match, I hardly see why it requires such urgency, Father.”
“It is urgent now because we are no longer discussing a future match.”
Something cold settled beneath her ribs. Rhoam's gaze remained steady.
“I have decided that you will marry.”
Zelda didn't move. Her face went pale.
“When?”
“As soon as arrangements can reasonably be made.”
She gave a short laugh before she could stop herself. Is this a joke?
Neither man joined her. The sound died and the room came to suffocating silence.
“You're serious.”
“Entirely.”
Zelda stood. “Father, the kingdom is at war.”
“Precisely.”
“My power hasn't awakened.”
“Precisely.”
“I am preparing to inherit a throne I was not supposed to inherit for years, and your solution is to add a marriage?!” Zelda became more restless as the flood of emotions began to crash onto her.
“My solution is to ensure Hyrule possesses a stable Crown when that day arrives.”
“I can provide that stability.”
“You can only provide part of it.”
There it was. Part. Never enough. Zelda drew a slow breath.
“Who? Who have you chosen?”
Rhoam hesitated. It was brief. Still, she saw it.
“Sir Link.”
For a moment, the name meant nothing. Then it meant far too much. The Hero. Of fucking course. Zelda almost laughed again. Of every nobleman in Hyrule, her father had chosen the one man whose very existence seemed designed to remind her of everything she had failed to become. Chosen by the Goddess herself. Oh, and so brave, being the bearer of the Master Sword. Even becoming a commander at his young age. The Hero of Hyrule. And now, apparently, her soon-to- be husband.
“You cannot be serious, Father.”
“He is the strongest candidate.”
“Because he has the sword?!”
“Among other reasons.”
Aldren spoke. “Sir Link is of suitable birth, Your Highness. He holds no foreign allegiance and possesses the confidence of the Guard and the people. He has demonstrated exceptional loyalty to the Crown.”
“Yes,” Zelda said. “I'm familiar with his accomplishments, Chancellor.” She gave a searing glare.
More familiar than she cared to be. They were difficult to avoid when everyone seemed so delighted to discuss them. Shoved them right in her face, just in case she hadn’t missed it.
“He is also,” Rhoam said, “a man I trust.”
“How fortunate for you,” She stared at her father in frustration.
“Zelda.”
She heard the warning. She slowly sat again.
“Has he at least been told?”
Silence. Something about it made her look at Aldren. Then her father.
“Well has he?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too easily.
Zelda's fingers tightened together in her lap.
“And?”
Rhoam regarded her carefully.
“He has agreed to the marriage arrangement."
The room seemed to become very still.
“He agreed.”
“Yes.”
Before she'd even known there was something to agree to. Zelda stared at her father.
“And you asked him before you asked me?”
Rhoam sighed. “I needed to know whether he would accept or not.”
“Before knowing whether I would?”
“You are the heir to Hyrule, Zelda.”
“And therefore I don't get an opinion?”
“In times of dire need, I don't think you do. Your stubbornness would disallow you to see the severity of why this is needed, Zelda.”
Zelda let out a small gasp. Well, that was one way of saying it.
“Well it's not like I have much choice in any other part of my life, Father.”
Rhoam's expression hardened.
“This is not punishment, Zelda.”
“No. Punishment generally requires that I have done something first.”
“Enough.”
She stood again. Aldren shifted slightly, but Zelda barely noticed.
“Who else knew?”
“Zelda.”
“Who, Father?”
Rhoam exhaled.
“Chancellor Aldren. Some others of the council had also agreed it was time. General Barrett was consulted regarding his son.”
She looked at Aldren. Then back at her father. So basically the three of them. Three men had discussed her marriage before she'd even known it existed. And Link. Link had been given the courtesy of an answer.
Something bitter climbed into her throat.
“Did anyone think to consult the woman actually getting married?”
“You are being consulted now.”
Zelda stared at him. “No. I am being informed of an arrangement that has already been resolved!”
That silenced the room. Even Aldren looked away.
Rhoam's jaw tightened. “You have responsibilities beyond yourself.”
“Oh, I am painfully aware. You remind me of them every day, Father.”
“Then act like it.”
The words struck exactly where he intended them to. Zelda's anger sharpened.
“I have spent my entire life acting like it!”
“Then you should understand why this is necessary, Zelda!” Rhoam yelled.
“I understand why it is convenient.”
“It is for the good of Hyrule.”
“Yes, for everyone except me.”
“For Hyrule,” Rhoam repeated, harder this time.
Zelda looked at him. She wanted to argue that she was Hyrule too. That somehow everyone seemed to forget that. They acted like she was just another pawn in this game, to be used however they saw fit.
Instead, she said, “And if I refuse?”
Rhoam was quiet. Her heart beat once. Twice.
“You won’t get to refuse. My word is final.”
There was no choice. She'd never actually been given any to begin with. Zelda rose.
“Then I suppose there is nothing left to discuss.”
“Zelda.”
She stopped at the door but didn't turn.
“You will conduct yourself appropriately when you meet with Sir Link.”
Her hand tightened around the handle. The Hero. Link. Her future husband.
“Of course, Father.”
She left before either of them could see how badly her hands were shaking.
The door slammed harder than Zelda intended. She didn't particularly care. Her fingers massaged her temples. Impa looked up from the chair beside the window, a bit startled but, then again, it wasn’t uncommon for Her Highness to be upset after a meeting with the King.
“Well?”
Zelda stopped. She'd forgotten Impa was coming. Judging by the expression on her face, Impa had already gathered that now was not the ideal time.
“I can come back-”
“No!” Zelda snapped, pacing across the room like a trapped animal. Impa paused halfway out of the chair. Zelda turned toward her. Her voice shook with a volatile mix of grief and fury. “My father is arranging a marriage for me, Impa. He’s bartering me away to secure Hyrule like I'm a piece of property, and I am supposed to just sit down and accept it!”
Impa froze, any words of greeting completely dying in her throat as the weight of the confession hit the room.
“What?”
Zelda crossed the room and pulled the circlet from her hair, dropping it onto the desk with considerably less care than the royal jewelry deserved.
“My father. Chancellor Aldren. General Barrett.” She began pacing, only adding more fuel to her anger. “They discussed it and they decided on it. All without asking me if it's something that I want!”
Impa watched her.
“Wait, am I hearing this correctly? Your-”
Zelda laughed, though nothing about it was funny.
“I'm getting married, Impa.”
Impa stared at her.
“You're what?”
“Married.”
“I heard that part.”
“Wonderful. Then one of us is processing this remarkably well.” Her pacing didn’t cease.
“Who are you arranged to marry?”
Zelda looked at her.
“Who do you think?”
Impa's eyes widened.
“No… Him??”
“I haven't even said his name yet. Yes, him!”
“Well you did make the face.”
“What face?”
“That face.”
“I don't have a face!”
“You absolutely have a face.”
Zelda turned away, groaning loudly in frustration.
“Link.”
Silence.
“Sir Link?”
“No, the other Hero carrying the Master Sword.”
Impa ignored that.
“When?”
“As soon as arrangements can be made.”
“And your father decided this today?”
“Oh, no.” Zelda resumed pacing. “Apparently everyone and their mother has had ample opportunity to become acquainted with my future except me.” She pointed at herself for emphasis.
Impa's expression tightened.
“They asked Link already?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He agreed.”
The words came out sharper than Zelda intended. Impa studied her. Zelda hated when she did that.
“Don't.”
“Hey, I was going to ask whether you spoke to him yet.”
“Why would I speak to him?”
“Because you're marrying him?”
“Not by choice.”
“Look, Princess, neither of you chose this arrangement.”
Zelda stopped.
“But he was asked.”
“Yes.”
“He was given an answer to give.”
“And you should have been too.”
The immediate agreement stole some of Zelda's anger. Impa stepped closer.
“What your father did was wrong.”
Zelda looked away.
“But,” Impa continued, “that doesn't mean Link did something wrong by answering.”
There it was. Zelda scoffed.
“Of course he agreed.”
Impa folded her arms. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that's what he does.”
“You barely know him.”
“I know enough.” The words came too quickly.
Zelda returned to her desk, though she had no idea what she intended to do there. The blueprints she'd been studying earlier remained spread across its surface. They looked absurd now.
An hour ago, she'd thought Malice traveling through ancient conduits was the most complicated problem she'd face today. How quaint.
“He's the Hero,” Zelda said. “The King asks something of him, and he does it. Hyrule needs something, and somehow Link is always perfectly capable of providing it.”
Impa was quiet.
Everything destiny had asked Link to become, he had seemingly become without hesitation. And Zelda couldn't accomplish the one thing she'd been born to do.
“Zelda.”
“I know. I know what you're going to say.”
Impa's voice softened.
“Do you?”
“That I'm being unfair.”
“You are.”
Zelda glared at her. Impa shrugged.
“You're also angry, and you have every right to be.”
“That is remarkably unhelpful.”
“You don't pay me to be helpful.”
“I don't pay you at all.”
“Exactly.”
Despite herself, Zelda nearly smiled. Nearly. She dropped into the chair behind her desk. The anger was exhausting now. That was the irritating thing about anger. It made such magnificent promises about keeping a person standing and then abandoned them the moment there was nobody left to fight.
Zelda stared at her hands.
“I don't want to marry someone I don't know, Impa.”
Impa's expression changed. There. That was closer to the truth.
“I don't want to wake up one morning and discover that my entire life belongs to Hyrule.” Zelda swallowed. “Every decision, every hour of my life. Every part of me.”
Impa sat across from her.
“You're frightened, Zelda.”
She exhaled.
“Yes.”
The admission was quiet. Impa didn't tell her everything would be fine. And Zelda appreciated that.
After a moment, Impa asked, “What do you know about him?”
“Link?”
“Considering you're not marrying anyone else that I'm aware of, yes.”
Zelda leaned back.
“He doesn't speak.”
“Well, I'm sure he speaks.”
“Rarely.”
“You've spoken to him?”
“At ceremonies.”
“That doesn't count.”
“Why not?”
“Because nobody speaks like themselves at ceremonies, Zelda! You, of all people, would know that.”
Zelda frowned.
Unfortunately, that was a reasonable point.
“He's...” She searched for something to say.
Capable? Decorated? Chosen? Infuriatingly accomplished. None of those told her anything about the man she was apparently going to spend her life beside.
“I don't know.”
Impa nodded.
“Then perhaps you should.”
Zelda looked at her. “That sounds suspiciously like advice.”
“I occasionally provide it.”
“I preferred you when you were insulting me.”
“I can do both.”
A knock sounded at the door. Zelda closed her eyes.
“If that's my father, tell him I've fled the kingdom.”
“I don't think that's permitted.”
“Well add it to the growing list.”
Impa opened the door. A royal attendant waited outside.
He bowed. “Your Highness.”
Zelda didn't move from her chair.
“What now?”
The attendant hesitated. “Sir Link has requested a private audience with you.”
Silence. Impa slowly looked over her shoulder.
Zelda stared at the doorway. Of course he had. Of course. She had known she would have to see him eventually. She simply hadn't expected eventually to arrive within the hour. That was rather quickly.
“Did he say why?”
“No, Your Highness.”
Impa's expression was far too neutral.
Zelda gave her a glare.
Impa's mouth twitched.
Zelda looked back toward the attendant. For one deeply tempting moment, she considered refusing. Then she remembered her father's words.
You will conduct yourself appropriately when you meet with Sir Link.
Fine. Zelda stood.
“Tell him I'll see him.”
The attendant bowed and departed.
Impa closed the door. Zelda looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Impa reached for the door again.
“I'll leave you to your future husband.”
Zelda's glare could have burned through stone.
“Impa.”
The door closed behind her.
Zelda was alone. For approximately thirty seconds before someone knocked at the door again. Three measured taps. Zelda stared at the door. Goddess, could anything today not happen back to back? Could he not wait at least another twenty minutes?
Her future husband was standing on the other side of that door.
Again. Three more knocks.
Zelda stared at the door.
For several seconds, she considered pretending she hadn't heard them. A childish thought. A tempting one.
“Enter.”
The door opened.
Sir Link stepped inside.
Zelda had seen him countless times before. At ceremonies, or at Council gatherings, some of the Guard’s processions. And occasionally beside her and her father during public appearances.
Still, she had never really been alone with him. That realization felt considerably more important now.
He had changed from the clothes he'd worn at training earlier that day, though not into anything particularly elaborate. A dark formal tunic sat neatly beneath his coat, the royal insignia of the Guard fastened at his shoulder.
And, of course, the Master Sword rested across his back.
Zelda's eyes caught on it, naturally, staring the dreadful thing down as if it were–
Link closed the door behind him, cutting her thought off.
“Your Highness.” He bowed.
Zelda folded her hands in front of herself. “Sir Link.”
The silence, well, was enough to kill.
He looked at her and she looked at him. This was unbearable.
“You requested to see me.”
“Yes.”
More silence. Zelda waited. Carry on with it then! I don’t have all day here.
Link seemed to realize she was waiting. “I wasn't certain you would agree.”
“To the meeting?”
“Yes.”
“Apparently agreeing has become rather optional today. Well, not for me, of course.”
Something shifted in his expression. “I suppose I deserved that.”
Zelda's arms folded.
“Why are you here?” She raised a brow.
Link glanced toward the chair opposite her desk.
“May I?”
The question almost irritated her. Of all the permissions everyone had apparently decided she didn't require today, now someone wanted one?
She gestured toward it. Link sat. Zelda remained standing for another moment before taking her own chair.
The desk had separated them. She was suddenly grateful for its existence.
Link's eyes briefly traveled over the mess of papers between them. Zelda resisted the urge to straighten any of it. If he disapproved, he could suffer quietly.
His gaze stopped on one of the Sheikah diagrams.
“You drew these?”
Zelda frowned.
“Uh, yes?”
“They're very detailed.”
“I know.”
He looked back at her. That had sounded a bit defensive.
“Was that why you came?” Zelda asked. “To discuss my drawings, Sir Link?”
“No.”
“Then perhaps we could discuss why you did?”
Link went still.
“Oh for the love of Hylia…” she mumbled under her breath. If he wasn’t going to say it then she would. “My father has informed me of our recent… engagement.” She looked directly at him. “I was also informed that you already knew and had agreed when given the choice. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
His vague answers weren't very helpful. Somehow that irritated her more.
“If you don’t mind me asking, when was your conversation about this?”
“It was earlier this morning.”
Well, isn’t he a ray of sunshine! A headache had begun pulsing behind Zelda's eyes. His answer, however, wasn’t what she expected. Apparently, he had been caught off guard too.
“How long did it take you to make a decision?"
“Uh, I don’t know. I didn't count?”
“Several minutes, perhaps?”
“Probably? I don’t see the relevance of how long I had to choose.”
She couldn't tell whether he was joking. His face offered absolutely nothing. Oh this infuriating man.
“And after those several minutes, you decided marrying a woman you barely know seemed reasonable?”
“No.”
Zelda blinked.
Link continued before she could respond. “I decided the reasons your father gave me were reasonable.”
“That is hardly the same thing.”
“No, it isn’t.” Again, he agreed.
Zelda wasn't accustomed to arguments in which the other person refused to argue properly.
“Then why say yes?”
Link's gaze dropped briefly toward the papers between them. “Hyrule is at war, Your Highness.”
“Yes, I am aware.”
“Your father's health is worsening.”
“Again. Yes, I am aware of that too.”
“I know.” His voice remained calm.
Zelda's irritation sharpened.
Link continued.
“I was explaining what I was considering when I answered him.”
That stole the next retort from her. He rested his hands loosely against his knees.
“I was told the marriage would strengthen the succession. Prevent another kingdom from gaining influence over the Crown. Give the Guard confidence in the transition.”
“And naturally Hyrule requires something of you, so you provide it.”
His eyes lifted. It was a low jab, she knew. For the first time, she wondered if she'd actually managed to offend him.
“Yes,” he said. The answer was quieter.
Zelda looked away. She should have felt victorious. But she didn't. On the contrary, she felt a bit bad.
Link spoke again. “I asked if you knew.”
Her attention snapped back to him.
“What?”
“Before I agreed.” Zelda stared at him. “I asked your father whether you knew about the arrangement.”
Her fingers tightened slightly against the arm of her chair.
“And what did he have to say?”
“That he intended to tell you.”
“After you.”
“Yes.”
The bitterness returned.
“How considerate of him.”
“I didn't think so.”
Zelda looked at him.
Link's expression remained maddeningly composed, but there was something different in his voice now. It wasn’t anger. Discomfort, perhaps.
“I asked what would happen if I refused,” he said.
That surprised her even more.
“You considered refusing?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
This time Link's brow furrowed. “Because it's marriage.”
For some reason, the sheer simplicity of the answer nearly made her laugh.
“You make that sound remarkably ominous.”
“Well, I've been informed it's permanent.”
Zelda stared.
Was that… A joke?
His expression hadn't changed. Not even slightly. A tiny, traitorous sound escaped her before she could stop it. Almost a laugh. Zelda immediately straightened. That would not be happening again.
“So you considered refusing,” she said.
“Yes.”
“But you didn't.”
“No.”
“Because Hyrule needs it.”
“Yes.”
Zelda exhaled through her nose. Of course. Duty.
She looked down at the blueprints scattered across her desk.
“Then I suppose there isn't much left to discuss about the matter. It is final, and there isn’t anything either of us can do about it.”
Link didn't move. Zelda waited for him to stand. But he didn't.
When she finally looked up, he was watching her. Not necessarily staring or assessing. But just... watching.
Link's jaw tightened slightly. Silence settled between them.
Zelda had spent the last hour hearing why the marriage was necessary. Why it was practical and why it would protect Hyrule. But her anger didn't change any of those facts.
Link stood. “I don't know what this marriage is going to require of us,” he continued. “I don't know you well enough to pretend otherwise.” His jaw tightened slightly. “But I don't intend to make this more difficult for you than it already is.”
He took a deep breath. “I'm sorry this was decided for you. Whatever happens from here, I don't want you to feel trapped with me.”
Zelda couldn't seem to find an answer.
He bowed his head. “Have a good evening, Your Highness.”
Then he turned toward the door.
“Link.”
He stopped. It was the first time she'd ever called him simply that.
He looked back.
She had nothing prepared. She didn't even know why she'd spoken to begin with. So she settled for the only thing she could manage.
“Have a good evening.”
Something softened in his expression. Then he left. The door clicked shut behind him.
Zelda remained at her desk.
For the first time since her father had spoken his name, she found herself considering something she hadn't before.
Perhaps she really didn't know Sir Link at all.