Author's Note:
IT IS COMPLETE.
...Well the first half anyway. *cries*
Warnings: contains mentions of self harm and suicide.
The hushed sound of sobbing echoed throughout the chamber, the guttural gasps and broken whimpers laced with pain and torment. For so long, he had begged it to stop; covered his ears to suppress the screaming voices in his mind, and prayed to the goddesses to ease his torment. He cried out to the sky every sunrise and sunset, humbly clasping his hands and shutting his eyes as hot paths trailed down his cheeks. Yet still, the din of depression racked his head and the voices kept crying, kept calling.
He was such a broken and pitiful man. What was the point? The point of hurting? The point of living? He had failed in his one sworn promise to the world, and for that he would never, never forgive himself. It had come to the breaking point, and he told himself no more. He could no longer live with himself or others any longer. The pain was too great.
The voices had long stopped screaming, however. Now they were weeping.
...
Soon after the sun had touched the sky, and the cockerel's cry had been heard around the castle grounds, the hereditary queen of Hyrule swiftly made her way to the Temple to both pay her daily respects to the three goddesses, and to host the Dawn Service for the people of Castletown. Her duties as priestess required such of her.
The grand décor and comfort the hall offered her what was a much needed breather every morn, and she felt at peace around the celestial beings that were believed to occupy the Temple. Possessing the Triforce of Wisdom granted her a unique connection with the three deities, which not only gifted her with the ability to foresee the future, but foresight as to the paths to improve the safety, economy and success of her beloved country as well.
Coupled with her additional duties as the Queen however, the days often became trivial and tiresome. The endless patience she had to present in her own court, to appear as stoic and composed as possible, added to by the effort her mask required to appear convincing, caused her to often feel a harsh twang of impatience towards the egotistical and overpowering ministers that occupied the council chambers. She understood that it was in her blood to protect and serve the people of Hyrule, however, and that was what she did; despite how much her own emotions threatened to break her at times.
Refreshing thoughts in the midst of her hectic lifestyle were rare, but still present. Her controversial marriage to Link, a high ranking soldier in the army, had undoubtedly caused ruckus throughout both her court and the land, both in positive and negative ways. The paparazzi, she found, had a fine time stirring up rumours of possible "royal pregnancies" and other absurd stories and reports regarding their private life on practically a daily basis, despite her marriage already approaching it's first year anniversary.
She sometimes found herself flattered by their romantic, if not overly prying, inquiries. She knew she shouldn't think such things but it all seemed so...
"-to prevent such events from... Your majesty?"
Lost in her own trail of thought, she had zoned out from a council discussion on the recent issue of flooding that had been plaguing various regions of Hyrule. Embarrassed by her actions, she raised her chin and straightened her back, as she had unconsciously slouched in her cushioned chair.
"Apologies, Minister. Please continue."
The greying and aged man hesitated for a moment, eyeing his sovereign haughtily, before continuing his previous statement.
"As I was saying, majesty, there are various known approaches we can take towards the prevention of further flood damage. I also advise some research as to an insight into the causes of such... predicaments."
"Any personal suggestions, minister?"
"Well, as a highly religious kingdom, we should retain the belief that these events somehow link back to the goddesses. It is your job as priestess to look into such matters, your majesty."
"Of course. Although, I do not see any reason related to gaining disapproval from the gods, and I find it hard to believe that our guardians would inflict any sort of ill-fortune unto us with no motivation."
The minister bristled.
"On the contrary. High crime rates throughout the kingdom, dwindling shares and severe bankruptcy have all been present for over 6 months," various other council members all murmured in what she supposed was agreement, much to both her chagrin and confusion, "I understand that your husband.. the king, is new to politics and matters of the monarchy and state, but surely, majesty, a year is enough time to become accustomed to the requirements of the throne?"
"I-I understand that he is under experienced but-"
"In addition to the problems I have just mentioned, your husband has been regularly failing to turn up to council meeting. What say you to this?"
She was stunned into silence. Link had been failing to present himself in court? On a regular basis? The queen knew of her husband's stress, and his inability to clearly convey his feelings, even to her, yet to continuously neglect his duties as was apparent he was doing... it was something she never expected to hear of.
"I shall speak with him regarding these...issues," she spoke in the most controlled and even voice she could muster, and then, with and air of finality, "However, until then, gentlemen, court is dismissed."
Despite the impropriety of her abrupt court termination, she simply could not remain seated in the council chamber. The queen would not deny that her husband was inexperienced, it would not be worth her thought. She regularly noticed his mood swings, yet whenever she attempted to muster the courage to quiz him on such matters, she would either freeze up before ever speaking a word, or he would stubbornly refuse to share his thoughts with her. It was usually the former scenario now a days.
It saddened her to think of their present situation. Their relationship was strained to the point of breaking. No loving gestures ever seemed to be shared between them, she had not kissed him in almost six months, and as much as she tried to deny it, these blatant facts had brought her to tears on numerous occasions.
She only had herself to blame, however. It was her observation that had first noticed the changes within Link half a year ago; the faint, but few, fading streaks of his blonde hair, despite their young age of 23, the shadows beneath his once beautiful cerulean eyes and his drained voice were all factors alarmed her, and she had made the decision not to burden him any longer with her trivial worries and concerns, instead choosing to give Link his own space. She feared for his health ever too often, and she knew what the pressure of court life could do to a person if they were not strong enough to withstand the weight that was ever present upon their shoulders.
Despite her hardest efforts to lift her husband out of his depression - by allowing him his own space, free of even her affections - the dark cloud above him only seemed to worsen. Not only would she feel awkward being tender and caring towards Link now, she would also be, to a point, afraid. She didn't know the man that she shared a bed with, loved and cared for any longer. A putrid, gaping hole was forever standing between them, one the queen felt powerless to lift.
The irresponsibility of neglecting her awaiting duties tugged at her, however she could not find the will to disregard the demand of her heart as her longing for freedom overtook her better sense of judgement .
Unintentionally, her feet had carried her to one of the many small courtyards of the palace gardens. Nostalgia and melancholy welled up in her chest as images of herself as a child passed through her vision. The endless hours she had spent as a young girl in this courtyard reminded her of a time she wished would never end. It had been the place where she had first met Link, her one true friend and love.
She continued across the green to the ashen steps, seating herself on the third row and observing the vines of ivy that had grown, in her absence, over parts of the surrounding walls.
The two had spent their days winding up the guards and playing childish games from the time the sun rose till the sun set. Despite her fathers protests, she and Link had continued their innocent meetings until just after her 13th birthday, when the fatal plague swept across Hyrule and took her father in its wake. Long and painful days of grieving, laced throughout with depression, had followed her father's death, yet her friend had stood beside her, her hand clasped in his, through the whole ordeal. Why she could not face him, to do the same now struck a chord within her, and as she lifted her cloak hood to protect herself from the down coming rain, she wondered.
...
The sun and previously blue sky had long turned sombre by the time the queen had made her way to the east wing of the castle. She still found herself pondering earlier events, even despite the exacerbated mood of melancholy she felt festering at her core. It's source remained to her a mystery, yet something told her that it held no relation to the current atmospheric conditions.
Her recent visit to the courtyard had sparked memories that she was keen to put behind her, in regard to her current state of affairs. When the sweet scent of flowers had drifted towards her, the queen had suddenly been glad for the appearance of the rain, as it had given her an excuse, of sorts, to leave the place that was causing the ever prominent ache in her chest.
She had grown quickly tired of neglecting her duties, it was unacceptable for matters of state to continue untended for long. Every waking hour, the queen was aware of this. Her most recent political dread was a speech, required to be spoked by her own tongue, to the people of Castletown and the surrounding regions of Hyrule. It required something of her that she could not stand being carried out, and yet, she complied with the unrelenting eyes and voices of her minister, and agreed. It could not be avoided this time, she knew, no matter how much her morals tried to interfere.
With her heart once more caged over, she begun her steep ascent of the east staircase, leading to her private office. Much to her satisfaction, the stone crafted stairwell and surrounding corridors seemed to be free of any fellow castle residents, allowing her to further trace her thoughts, free of the greetings and glances the councilmen and maids would so often send her.
As her ascent peaked, a stretched hallway came into view; lit by wall-held candles, it was apparent to the queen that this passage, too, was empty. She promptly took notice of the extravagant portraits of her ancestors that lined the walls as she continued to her office, noting their value. Such things were merely the embodiment of power, and their cost could easily have been put towards more resourceful causes. Such was the narcissism of previous monarchs, to feel the need for materialistic possessions, so as to convey fear and their own superiority towards the people they had sworn to serve from their first waking breath. The petty traits and habits of previous aristocracy vexed the queen, however, as much as she did try to, the pallid portrait of herself, as she passed it by, did not elude her peripheral altogether...
Choosing not to dwell on such trivial and trying subjects, she continued, until several doors came into her view. Heading straight ahead, towards a single curve-topped passage, she cast few words towards the guards posted on either side, swiftly requesting the presence of her head of agricultural affairs and retiring from the hall into the dimly lit area of her bureau.
Absently massaging her temples, she took a seat behind her desk, shuffling through countless sheets of paperwork as her ever intensifying headache took various turns, blurring her vision for seconds at a time. She silently held hopes that her minister would arrive promptly, wishing to retire to the dining hall for evening meal swiftly, if only to slumber within the secure walls if her chamber soon after.
The queen was jolted out of yet another of her dizzy spells, by a discordant rap on the wood of the door. Forcing herself to regain propriety and concentration, she cast permission to enter towards the direction of the noise, barely glancing up to see a well dressed, middle aged man enter the room.
It was unquestionable, judging by his appearance, that he was of aristocratic background. His neatly oiled hair, grime free gloves and gold trimmed shoes each gave off a distinct air of opulence to which the queen could merely scoff. Her entire court was dominated by such beings, and seeing them relentlessly shower themselves with luxuries and the latest fashion irked her; it was money ill spent that could be going towards a more productive and worthwhile cause, rather than the latest powdered wig and perfume.
However, regardless of their habits, they were her ministers and her father before her's; she had little choice but to bear with the reality of the situation, despite of the foul animosity it raised within her.
His minuscule heels clicked upon the cold stone floor as he strode, back straight and nose high, across the room to seat himself on the chair situated opposite her desk.
"Greetings, Lord Farquhar," she said, "Pray tell, how does our situation fare?"
"I regret to say, your majesty, that the issue of flood damage has worsened since our last meeting." he spoke, gravely, "The people of Hyrule grow restless and my original proposition of a speech has, in my opinion, become inevitable at this point."
Farquhar's words forced a sigh from the monarchs lips. She knew what this speech would entail.
"I am aware of this, my lord. However, I can hardly relay outright lies to my own people. Surely, such a feat would only result in negative consequences. If there is any other-"
"Believe me, highness, this is our only option. If we do not reassure our people that action is in order to fix such problems, warfare is practically inevitable."
As much as she wished to refuse his bidding, the queen knew that such thoughts were worth nothing. Lying to the people was something that was carried out every too often by the men and women around her, yet she had vowed never to follow in their footsteps, never to knowingly spread false information among her subjects, the day of her coronation.
She found it hard to utter words of agreement towards the man sitting opposite her. But nevertheless, with her natural instinct telling her it was the right thing to do, she approved Farquhar's plan and spent the best of the next two hours writing the speech.
...
The absence of her husband did not surprise the queen when evening meal was served. Despite such occurrences becoming quite regular, his childish antics were pressing her to take action. It was the job of the monarchy to appear powerful, and regally poised at all times, no matter the situation.
The excuse of being inexperienced regarding such expectations was beginning to wear as their first year of sovereigns came to an end. Link knew what must be carried out in order to retain expectation, and attending regular evening meals was certainly not too much to request.
Once more she found herself worrying over his welfare. As much as she wished to help him, to hold him and to ignore the controversy that was being constantly stirred around court, she knew she could not. Her kingdom had to come before all else, she knew that and Link did too. It made her feel positively dismal as her early father's words ran jarringly through her head. It was duty before desire, always. No matter how much she wanted to forget the rules of court...she knew she could not. So she endured the pang of her heart, and carried on with life as she knew it.
Sitting with an ever calm posture and civilly consuming the food that was set before her, she made conversation with the various nobles, their topics frivolous, and ignored the ebony chair that sat, desolate, beside her.
In the ever trying company of lords, she felt even her own composure slipping. She longed for the safety of her chambers and the warmth of the fire, despite dreading the immanent conversation with Link that she was sure would ensue later. The trivial conversation that frequently ensued was far from her taste. Perhaps it was her mind remaining accustomed to more significant a word, or perhaps it was the subject of playwrights and fiction that had been brought up ever too often to gain her reoccurring appreciation.
By the time dinner had ended, the queens tolerance for her ministers had all but dissipated. Her headache exemplified, and her composure thinning, she departed the dining room and continued, with haste, along the halls for the West wing.
Her earlier anxiety over a possible dispute with Link had also vanished, leaving her in a state of abnormal numbness, oblivious and uncaring of her previous troubles. All she wished for was to wrapped in the dreadful state of sleep, even despite the unrelenting duty that would wake her when the cockerel cried once more and the sun bathed the land in its unyielding fire.
The corridors dark atmosphere and grimly decorated walls flew past her in a haze, and upon arrival to her chambers, she barely acknowledged her husband's absence, nor the presence of a maid by her bedside, instead heading straight for her wardrobe and dressing screen.
She slipped behind the secluded area of her screen after picking a thin, gossamer nightdress from her wardrobe and heard the bustling of the maid rearranging her bedclothes, comforters and duvets while she undressed.
The light and carefree tone of the girl brought her out of her momentary stupor.
"My lady? There is a note here...from his highness, addressed to you."
Her words struck a note of confusion within her.
"From my husband?" she paused for a moment before continuing, "...leave it on my desk. I will read it in a few moments."
"Alright." The queen could hear the faint tapping as she crossed the stone floor, "I wish you a peaceful night, my lady." And then the creak of the door as the maid departed the queen's chambers.
Despite curious of the reasoning behind the letter, she displayed no such hurry as would be expected from a puerile youngster hearing of a love letter, and instead slowly wove her fingers through her thick, golden hair in an effort to ease her bodily tension as she loosened it from its intricate braid.
When at last she stepped from behind the screen, her crimson dress draped over the edge, she headed across the room, unclasping gold trimmed rubies from her earlobes, removing her luscious sautoir and returned them to her jewellery box.
Her mild interest finally piqued, she made her way over to the desk that sat beside her large window overlooking the palace gardens. It was a simple letter; bearing but a simple name. Her name.
As she gently unfolded the contents of the note from its envelope, she was struck with obtuse it was to feel slight damp coating a portions of it's surface.
I feel as though the goddesses themselves have abandoned me to craft my own destiny. I have caused you and so many others such suffering, and why should a man with fists so strong be allowed to roam the earth and damage all in his wake?
I do not speak a word to you about the voices that plague my weary mind, for fear that one day you, too, shall share them. My heart cannot bear another of your glances; such agony and longing I see in your gaze. Why is that? I think I know the answer.
I cannot fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, and that without me you could be blessed with such joy. What I want to say is that I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good, and, for that, I shall be always grateful.
However, from the time when our dusk coats the land in its embers, and ignites the trees of the horizon and the water of the stream, to a time when light showers the earth, and the goddesses once more cast their blessing upon our people, I beseech you, my love, be happy.
It was akin to having a hard fist collide with her gut, and in an in and instant she felt winded. With the blood in her face all but dissipated, a staggering wave of nausea and horror hit her with force, her head whipping around to face the bathroom door. The letter fell to the floor, forgotten.
Author's (final) Note: I originally planned for this to be just a single-chapter one-shot, but then I got so sick of it after a years worth of writing that I spontaneously decided that I would just go ahead and post the damn thing.
Anyway, feedback would be severely appreciated, and I'll try to upload the second half of this as quickly as possible.
(Also, some credit goes to my Fairly-Bestish-Friend, Anoushay, for all the help when my mind refused to co-operate.)