Link had forgotten to laugh at the irony. For six months, a rather short time when you break it down, he was called Hero. Everywhere he went, the name revisited him like an old friend with open arms. Excepting the fact that it was always a stranger who uttered it. Often it was an overly exuberant maiden, or a horde of young children who brought his presence to attention in public, crying out with joy at the sight of Hyrule's savior. Hyrule's icon. Pretty soon the entire town square would be at an uproar, while Link would be caught in a tidal wave of praise, handshakes, pats on the back, not to mention the occasional request for marriage. Once, a youthful, wide-eyed girl had pounced on him in the town market, threw her arms around him and planted a crushing kiss on him. She had subsequently turned and scampered away, face tomato red and screwed up in giggles. The experience had left Link bewildered and dry in the mouth, and thereafter he would only walk through town arm in arm with Zelda.
The Princess was Link's most effective whore-repellent. Her smooth golden hair was always plaited in a perfect bun, with strands of it spilling down to her waist, an appropriate dash of imperfection. The bodice of her dress exemplified her crisp curves, curves that had carved many a heart asunder. Always clean cut, refreshing, and glowing in appearance she was. There were theories, yes, but none could prove that that sharply oval, chiseled profile had ever borne a blemish, ever shimmered beneath the thinnest sheen of sweat. The Princess embodied every man's fantasy, pure and wicked, and also every woman's nightmarish envy.
Especially when Castle Town was at its busiest, Link was sure to have Princess Zelda accompany him every step of the way, often in a pointedly open embrace of arms. When they were together, the usually praise-happy mob diminished to a murmuring crowd, lengthening off into streams rather than whirlpools. The females in particular walked with their tearful eyes trailing the ground. Link liked it just fine.
At the very most, people would bow as the pair glided by, whether to the Princess or the Hero was up for debate. Perhaps their coupling was of star quality.
"You're a heart-breaker, you know that?" Zelda scolded wryly one day, standing guard as Link weighed brooches in his hands at a concession.
The Hero glanced up, his brows lowered defensively. "Little competition never hurt anyone," he said, his gaze falling back to the silver, shield-shaped brooch in his left palm. "How much is this one?"
The seller, an excitable looking man in his late forties, shook his head rapidly. "For you, sir, it is no cost!"
"Hey, come now," Link protested, smiling. "I'm just like every other honest man here. And an honest man wouldn't take valuable merchandise without paying a proper price."
"But sir, not everyone here could have done everything you have." The seller's face looked nearly crestfallen. "I believe the Hero deserves to be treated as such."
His old buddy came to visit again. Grin broadening, Link set the other brooch in his right hand, a bronze, back on the counter and kept the silver. "If you insist, good man," he said. "But know this well. To every man I meet who is in need of quality metal goods and armor, I shall recommend your business and see that it is compensated."
The seller may have just talked to Farore herself. The man teetered in place from sheer gratitude, waving furiously as Link left the stand, the Princess quickening to meet his stride.
"Shameless indeed," Zelda swatted at him with a lithe, white-gloved hand.
Link shrugged. "I left some rupees beneath that bronze one on the counter. Go check if you don't believe me."
The fame was too good to last. The defeat of Ganon and a world reborn from the ashes of apocalypse had brought Link into a welcome river of admiration and love. But all rivers run dry eventually. His place among Hyrule's most recognized bloomed and wilted like that of a flower from day to night.
"Hero" used to mean something to Hyrule's citizens; it was the one figure who spoke for everyone, governed the strong, enlightened the wise, and defended the powerless.
Later on, Link would think this over and huff in resentment. Where was their hero now but on a relentless path of least resistance? As he performed more and more favors for Hyrule's Royal council, his legendary prowess diminished; as if he were now the result of an assembly line soldier. Regimens were established in his name, and more and more knights learned forbidden skills of swordsmanship formerly known only by the Hero's bloodline. Who needed a Hero with fancy, acrobatic sword tricks when any Royal Guard could perform them just as easily?
Now Link was sure it was his still-recognizable face that maintained the Council's interest in him. While his Spin Attacks and and Helm-Splitters were now nothing special, the people still needed a familiar face to look to when crisis hit the land. It was the Council's job, then, to ensure the public that the Hero was on the case. Nothing to worry about. He would take care of them all like always.
Even with the talk of moblins still on the loose in Hyrule Field, today's council meeting would bore the Hero to tears. As the anonymous councilmen ranted on such subjects, the only harrowing issue Link could think of was the sickeningly proper blue tunic Zelda had made him wear for the meeting. Of course, the Hero of humble origin only felt comfortable in his traditional forest wear. But, as the Princess abided, it was only prudent for Hyrule's role model to wash his hair once in a while and don clean noble wear. The sight of Link's reflection wearing a short black tie in the looking glass had been enough to make him gag.
The crack of a gavel against the table meant the meeting was over. Link stood up quickly, glazed eyes awakening with relief, hoping that none of the conversation he just missed would catch him off guard later. The room gradually emptied itself of councilmen, leaving Link the chance to catch up with Princess Zelda at the end of the long mahogany table. He wheeled himself superfluously around a stacked chair and landed gracefully on the corner of the table, smirking to her. "So…what did I miss?"
The Princess' beautiful face scoffed and turned away, although Link could see the crease of her smile from behind. "You know, you've become too arrogant, Link. Suppose one of us asked you something during the meeting? All you would be able to do is stare like a dumb beast."
"No worries about that," Link said darkly, his smirk fading. "Nobody ever asks my opinion in these meetings. I must be here for wall décor, because half the time I hear them discuss my assignments without asking my input."
"Just remember," Zelda's intense, blue-eyed glare chilled him like ice. "The Royal Family sends you out on these missions for your sake. We let you stay in the castle, allow your vote in legal matters, and fund your expenses. Your attitude disappoints me. I thought you'd be more grateful."
Link scratched the back of his head, yanked on his too-tight collar. Admittedly, he hadn't thought about it that way. Yet, it still sounded like an alibi. The Hero gave a shrug, trying to look apologetic. "I don't mean ill toward you," he said sincerely. "Eh, don't listen to ramblings from a blue coat like me. Must be this tie; it's cutting off circulation."
"Excuses, excuses," the Princess sighed, flexing her hands wearily. She fluidly pulled off one glove after the other, wriggling her fingers systematically. "Council's adjourned; you could take the excess off, if you wish."
"Here?" Link could have perceived that statement in a provocative manner, but he decided not to go there. With a relieved groan, he loosened the Windsor knot on his tie and twisted it off over his head, and proceeded to shed the blue tunic. He still thought the blindingly white shirt underneath was excessive, but there was only so much he would take off in front of royalty. Therefore, the pants would stay too.
"So I understand that you feel taken for granted?" was the Princess's next stark question.
Had she read his mind? Link paused, fidgeting with the fingers of his own black gauntlets that came with the royal outfit. There wasn't even a single rip or scratch to distract him. "Well… it's not my place to file a complaint. You're right; perhaps I am too arrogant."
"No, no…" said Zelda. "You have done much more than we ever could have asked of you, Link. Everyone of Hyrule owes their lives and welfare to you. You have sacrificed a great deal."
Talk was cheap. Link hated to acknowledge the fact that he had heard this line before, too many times. And it meant something would follow. A request.
"I want to ask you something."
Link mentally could have counted down to it. He projected one of his curious, yet interested smiles as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Zelda suddenly dropped her gaze coyly, her now bare hand reaching out to grasp his. Her slender white fingers appeared to be swallowed by Link's leather bound ones. Her body swayed a little until she stood barely an inch away, eyes slowly climbing up his frame. Link frowned.
"What would you think about making our relationship…official?" The Princess swallowed an invisible lump in her throat, collecting herself. Link thought he saw the tiniest droplet of sweat appear above her upper lip.
"As in, what? Hold hands and skip through the countryside?" Link was slightly disgusted at his own response, but he felt the need to stall the enormity of what Zelda was asking. He needed time to think it over, but he couldn't tell her that! Uncomfortable as he was, he allowed the Princess to caress his hand.
She shook her head. "I mean…perhaps if we announced our engagement to the Council, and to the people…no sense keeping things in the dark any longer."
"Engagement?" Now Link broke contact, stepping back with his hands held safely out of reach. "What makes you think I want to marry you?"
"Don't you care for me?"
Link was surprised at how hard it was to answer that question. "Yes" should have been it, but the Hero stumbled over his words as he tried to say it, unable to respond intelligently. "I…I didn't think you could marry someone like me," was his rationale. "Thought Council wouldn't allow it."
"You think the Council can override me in everything?" The coy look in Zelda's eyes had disappeared, smoldering hurt left in its wake. "That I'm merely a puppet for their schemes?"
"Could've fooled me," Link crossed his arms, throwing the Princess a haughty stare.
The Princess stole away from his eyes, stiffly raising her hands in resignation. "You're too much for me sometimes," she wailed. "Don't you understand the opportunity you're slighting? The influence we'll receive? The great respect we can bring to the throne through our union?"
So that was it. Link had thought so. A grimace crept over his features. "I knew this question hadn't just come out of the blue," he said. "But I didn't know until now… just how little respect you have for me."
"No more repulsive than you must find me," Zelda hissed. The words had stung.
Link heaved an exasperated sigh. "I've never found you repulsive until now." He left her with those final words as he departed through the same door as the long-gone council-men, the puppeteers.
"You're all the same," he muttered bleakly to himself as he proceeded down the hall. He ignored the distant sob that escaped the Princess as the Hero trudged down that corridor for the last time.