ANGER MANAGEMENT
Chapter 1: Admonition
A/N: Yay, another fun little side fic! This was my de-stress project of the past couples weeks. For those of you who don't follow me on Tumblr or AO3, I'm turning my stories The Virtues of Wisdom, Courage, Power, and Faith and The Danger of Uncontrolled Field Studies into a series called Fade to Black. It's a ZeLink lemon series, an alternate take on what could have happened after a memory fades out. I won't be doing every memory, but I'd like to try my hand at several at least. So here's the next installment, tagged to memory #12, "Father and Daughter".
Also, this story might be the start of its own mini series. Still thinking about it-it has some interesting potential. More on that at the end, though.
The story is complete and I think I'll publish one chapter a day. So here's chapter one. Read, fav, and review! :D
Edit 5/1/18: This is now part 1 of the series "Silent Princess Blooming".
Zelda walked along the stone bridge between her study and her chambers, Link's heavier footfalls sounding behind her as she gazed with satisfaction out at the Guardian experiments taking place on the grounds below. The Sheikah researchers were testing independent movement today. The ancient scrolls they'd discovered buried along with the machines had offered some instruction, but so far it had been largely trial and error. After months of work, they were just beginning to reach a point of relative understanding. As the clanging and clinking of one of the guardians echoed up to her ears, she excitedly hurried towards the edge, leaning out over the parapet.
One of the Guardians was moving, following the Sheikah researcher in accordance with its programmed instructions. She smiled, feeling hope rise tenuously within her. It eased just a little of the pressure to know that their success wouldn't be solely on her shoulders—that the incredible technology of their ancient ancestors would provide that much more peace of mind against the coming trials.
"Incredible… we're at a point now where we can actually control them. At the current rate, we'll soon know all we need to know about the Guardians and the Divine Beasts!"
She turned to Link with an enthusiastic smile. He stood behind her, gaze fixed to the grounds below as he too observed the experiments. Though she knew unlocking her sealing power was still vital, she couldn't help but voice some of her relief, unable to repress her smile.
"And should Ganon ever show itself again, we'll be well positioned to defend ourselves."
Link glanced at her, smiling as well; but the peace was interrupted by a voice echoing from behind her.
"What are you doing out here Zelda?
Her blood ran cold, and she turned anxiously towards the reprimanding voice, her hand instinctively raising to cover her heart. Her father stood before her chamber doors, walking slowly towards her with a frown on his face. Her heart constricted with fear and shame; she knew that tone of voice—had heard it countless times over the past several years. He was not pleased.
As the King neared, she heard Link drop to the ground in a show of fealty; however, she forced her shoulders back and stood straighter, lowering her hand to her side. She would not show fear—she would now cow; she had done nothing wrong.
"I…" her voice was weak and so she paused, hands clenching into fists as she gathered her strength to speak with the regal authority she had been born and bred to show. "I was assessing the results of the experiment with the Guardians." She moved away from the parapet, turning to face her father fully. "These pieces of ancient technology could be quite useful in the fight against the—"
"I know that." His voice was calm—firm and authoritative, yet an annoyance ran beneath the surface, She tried not flinch. "They are essential to Hyrule's future and our research demands we keep a close eye on them. However…" His tone began to shift, and she sensed what little patience he had exhibited would soon be gone. "As the Princess you currently have a crucial unfulfilled responsibility to your kingdom."
She let out a small, pained breath.
"Let me ask you once more… when will you stop treating this as some sort of childish game?"
Despite knowing it was coming, his words hit her like a slap in the face. Any hope or encouragement or relief she had felt watching the Guardian experiments—any sense that maybe the world wasn't quite so fully on her shoulders—dissipated like smoke on the wind.
The full weight of her failure hung heavily upon her shoulders once more.
She looked down, feeling shame well within her; yet a small part of her stubborn spirit remained. She had to at least try to defend herself, to make him understand. She lifted her head and took a step forward, entreating him to patience—to empathy. Despite the pressure and the urgency he placed upon her, he was still her father… somewhere, deep inside.
"I'm doing everything I can." She forced herself to speak with a strength she did not feel, her fingernails digging crescents into her palm as she did so. "I'll have you know that I just recently returned from the Spring of Courage where I offered every ounce of my prayers to the Goddess—"
"And now you are here wasting your time." His voice was cutting, impatient and uninterested in her excuses. This time she did flinch. "You need to be dedicating every moment you have to your training! You must be single-minded in unlocking the power that will seal Calamity Ganon away."
"I already am!" She was desperate, her fear of failure—of the calamity—returned to her at his urgency, his insistence. What more could she do? She had dedicated her whole life to unlocking her sealing power, to no avail! Could she not at least be given a chance to help her kingdom in some less futile way? Could she not at least be useful? She felt her eyes mist, but blinked it away. She would not show weakness. "Don't you see—there's nothing more I can do! My hope… My hope is that you… That you'll allow me to contribute here in whatever way I can—"
"No more excuses, Zelda!" His voice had risen several octaves, and she felt the last of her will to fight drain away. "Stop running away from your duty. As the King I forbid you from having anything to do with these machines from this moment on, and command you to focus on your training."
He then turned from her, moving towards the parapets and gazing out over the grounds. She thought she might feel relief at the absence of his critical gaze, but instead felt only rejection. "Do you know how the gossip mongers refer to you?" he asked, voice suddenly soft. She held her tongue—she did not trust herself to speak.
"They are out there at this moment, whispering amongst themselves… that you are the heir to a throne of nothing… nothing but failure." Another pained breath escaped her, and she swallowed down the lump in her throat. Several moments of silence stretched on, and he gazed with faraway eyes out beyond the castle. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, full of an unspoken weight she felt only too keenly. "It is woven into your destiny that you prove them wrong. Do you understand?"
It took every last ounce of strength she had left to answer him; and when she did, her voice was hoarse and barely audible. "Yes. I understand." She held her hands still, clasped before her to keep them from shaking, and stared down at the stonework of the bridge, unable to look at him. Without a word he turned and walked slowly away, past her guards and through her chamber door, retreating back into the castle.
She did not speak for several moments, merely stood still as she forced the torrent of emotions to calm. Taking several deep breaths, she schooled her expression and walked forward slowly, demurely, heading through her chamber doors and down the spiral staircase. She moved silently towards her wardrobe and once Link had reached the bottom of the stairs she spoke softly, not turning from her task.
"Step outside, please, Link. I wish to prepare for prayer."
She could feel his eyes on her as she gathered her dress and ceremonial jewelry, but did not turn to him, and did not speak further. After several moments she heard the dull thump of her chamber door—evidence that Link had finally stepped out into the hall—and only then, did she allow herself to cry.
Two hours later she knelt in the lush grasses before the castle shrine, Link's back to her as she prayed; but her efforts were half-hearted. Still, she kept her hands clasped before her, head bowed and eyes closed as she recited her devotionals in her head. At least her father would be pleased by how her precious time was bing spent. Maybe.
Yet as she reached her tenth verse, the words slowed to a stop, and she released a frustrated breath. What was the point? She had been here for an hour already, going through the same motions she had a thousand times before; but what good would praying here do if her attempts at the holy Spring of Courage had failed? Every time she had ever bothered to put forth any true effort she had failed. Half-hearted effort would surely yield nothing.
She felt angry tears well in her closed eyes. It wasn't fair…
What more could she possibly do? She felt her blood boil as her father's words repeated themselves in her head, only just resisting the urge to rip up the soft grasses. One could not simply transmute lead into gold—and neither could she simply unlock her sealing power. If she could, she would have by now. Her father didn't understand. Nobody understood. Everyone acted as though she weren't trying—as though there was some obvious solution she simply hadn't bothered to attempt.
She took a steadying breath. Her anger was getting the better of her. Lifting her head, she briefly recited her final prayer aloud, then turned towards the steps where Link stood, waiting. Glancing out beyond the castle moat, she observed the sun on its descent towards the mountains. Yes, it was best she finish up early. Dinner wasn't far off.
She resisted an angry grumble as she walked forward as calmly as she could, heading for the door which led back to the interior of the castle.
"Announcing her highness, Princess Zelda."
She entered the dining hall with her head down, making a quick beeline for her seat and ignoring the courtiers who stood upon her entrance. Link parted from her halfway to the table, taking his place beside the other royal guards at the back of the room.
"You are late, Zelda," said her father as she settled into her seat, neatly tucking her royal gown under her as a servant pushed in her chair. The long table was already full, the courtiers seated and daintily cutting up their meals; a few, however, had paused and were staring down their noses at her. She avoided their gazes, keeping her hands clasped in her lap as she answered her father.
"Please pardon my lateness," she offered quietly, "I spent the afternoon in prayer and lost track of time." Truthfully, she had been late as she'd needed a long walk through the castle gardens to cool her temper; but she rather thought he'd prefer the answer she gave him.
He did not respond, merely nodded at her and offered a faint grunt. He returned his attention to his plate, and so she turned her attention to hers for the first time. Inwardly, she sighed. Steak again… how she tired of her father's obsession with meats. The royal physician had long ago warned against such a protein-rich diet as the one he preferred, citing fears for the health of his heart. He had ignored the man, of course.
But, how dare she spend an afternoon observing guardian experiments she'd helped to research? How dare she feel anything other than the weight of her failure? She felt her hands clench into fists in her lap. The unfairness of it all…!
It seemed her walk through the gardens hadn't done quite as much to quell her temper as she'd hoped.
Taking a breath to ease the infuriated shaking of her hands, she delicately took hold of her utensils and cut into the steak without much interest. She enjoyed when Link cooked for her during their travels, and he often cooked meat, but his dishes were a mixture of meats, vegetables and grains. The combination made for an enticing mixture of flavors and textures. Looking down at the large slab of steak, however, with a spiral cut of carrot as mere decoration… she stifled a grimace. It seemed she'd be ordering a meal be sent up to her chambers again tonight.
As she brought a small cut of meat to her lips, she heard the first mealtime whispers. She'd long ago grown accustomed to dinnertime gossip among the courtiers, but the words she heard momentarily stilled her hand as it brought her fork to her mouth.
"…was caught lounging in her chambers this afternoon. No wonder she hasn't unlocked her power, she's not even trying…"
"I heard the King even had to command her to focus on her training. Can you believe that? The destruction of the Kingdom isn't even enough to spur her to act!"
"…ungrateful and spoiled; she hardly cares a whit."
Zelda forced the food into her mouth just so she could hide her angry grimace with chewing. Though she normally bore such whispers with more poise, she was still smarting from her father's rebuke earlier in the day, and their words caused her to bristle with renewed anger. They would dare to criticize her upon her return from journeying halfway across the kingdom for the very purposes of her training, while they sat here in their luxury and finery? They who lived on petty gossip as though it were sustenance and had never bore any serious responsibility or endured any such punishment as she had?
She stared hard at her plate as she forced herself to chew her food, though by now it tasted rather like cardboard. She swallowed, forcing the food past the lump in her throat, then closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. She needed to calm down. Feeling her hands steady, even if her anger remained ever-present, she picked her utensils back up and resumed her facade of eating. However, she'd barely managed another bite before more whispers reached her ears.
"I heard she's been spending all her time fawning over her knight instead of training. We've all seen the way she stares at him—how she clings to him…"
"Well I heard she's been fooling around with him. She's a harlot, just like that Gerudo woman, mark my words…"
Her eyes nearly bulged as the barely-audible words reached her. She—a harlot?! …What?! How could—how did—! She had dedicated the entirety of her life to this goddess-forsaken task! She didn't even have time for such things even if she desired them!
She only just managed to unobtrusively set down her knife and fork, the urge to throw them across the room nearly overtaking her good sense. She once more found herself staring at her plate, except now she was seeing red.
How DARE they!
Perhaps, though, their words stung all the more because in some small way, they were right; though she knew she'd never be granted such an opportunity, nor would she ever seek such an opportunity, a small part of her did want those kinds of scandalous things… and with one person in particular—the very person they suspected she wanted those things with. The small sliver of truth behind their words, however, only added fuel to the fire.
She dared not look up for fear of letting her fury be known to the courtiers, or worse, her father. She needed to leave; her thinly-held composure couldn't bear another minute of this.
She chanced the briefest of glances to where Link stood along the wall with the rest of the guard. She was thankful, at least, that he was too far away to hear. Folding her napkin neatly and placing it beside her plate she carefully turned her head towards her father, speaking with as much calm as she could muster.
"Father, I am afraid I must excuse myself, I'm not feeling quite well. I shall be in my chambers for the remainder of the evening."
Then, before he could voice objection, she pushed out her chair and made a slow but steady beeline for the door; she didn't want too look too eager to leave. Link followed after her, and once they made it into the privacy of the hall she straightened, walking with hasty strides in the direction of her chambers. She could once more feel Link's eyes on her but she said nothing, her thoughts still swimming with the courtiers whispers words.
"Raagh!" she threw the book across the room, face contorted into a snarl as the front cover of her book of devotionals ripped at the binding upon hitting the stone mantle of her fireplace.
Her chest was heaving and her shoulders shaking as the day's insults washed over. She was intensely glad for having dismissed Link to his chambers early for the night, as an anger like she'd never known coursed through her; she felt it practically pouring from her ears. First her father's scolding, then the fruitless effort of her prayers, and now the courtiers gossip. She could get no understanding, no sympathy for her desperate struggles! She picked up another tome, this one a history of the Goddess Hylia, and chucked it into the fireplace itself where it landed on the burning logs and immediately caught fire.
'Let it all burn,' she thought bitterly as she turned to pace the length of her room, seething. Everyone, even her own father, was so intent—almost desired—to see her as nothing but a pathetic, childish failure, despite her constant efforts to show them otherwise… Did they so desire someone to despise?
It was as she paced, this thought running on repeat in her head, that she had a sudden epiphany, and slowed her steps until she stood stock still before the fire, vaguely watching as her book turned into a pile of ash. She had been furious that no one saw her efforts, that despite her sincerity and dedication to the task of unlocking her power—despite her commitment to molding herself into a good and caring future monarch—they could see nothing but her faults.
So… why keep trying? She would not give up trying to unlock her power, certainly—she was not so callous as to leave her Kingdom to the Calamity's destruction; but why keep trying to uphold her image? Why keep trying to be mature and proper and thoughtful of the consequences of her actions? Why keep trying to be… good? At least In the eyes of her critics.
And it was as she thought this that a plan began to form in her mind. For this first time since her father's scolding, she smiled; but it was a bitter, wicked smile. She was done being a Princess—done fighting against the disappointment of her father and the courtiers.
Tonight at least, she would—instead—simply be a seventeen year old girl.
And she would show them all see what true failure looked like.
A/N: Ooh, hoo, hooo, teen angst and acting out! An excellent start to any lemon plot. Fav and review my friends! More tomorrow.
