I know, I know. Nearly 10 months of silence. I'm so sorry, and I really did try to work on this over and over and over. I've probably had the first few paragraphs of this just sitting on my laptop since a few weeks after the last update.

All chapters should be about the same length right? Not like this one is barely 900 words or anything...

I just had to get what I had finished out there. Sorry if there's anyone even a little bit disappointed, although I doubt anyone would be, haha. I just recently rediscovered a few stories I followed over a year ago, and they sort of made me fall in love with fanfiction all over again. I just hope that this can motivate me to get back on track with this story again. Fingers crossed!

Anyway, if you happen to be a returning reader and don't feel like rereading to catch up again (I've totally been there, no worries.), here's a little summary of what's happened so far:

After her carriage was attacked by monsters, 13-year-old Princess Zelda and knight trainee Link flee to the forest. After they are found, Zelda returns to the castle no longer content to be a helpless princess. She finds Link again, and the pair begin sneak out regularly so he can teach her how to use a sword and protect herself. During their time together, Link and Zelda become close friends. Then, tragedy strikes when Zelda's sickly mother dies suddenly in the night. After her initial shock fades, Zelda finds comfort in Link, who promises her that he will not leave her.

EDIT: If you have the time, could you leave a review with a fic recommendation? I always love reading new stuff! :')


"We are gathered here today to honor the life and death of Aureum Regina Nobilis Hyrule, a beloved wife, mother, and queen. Her death was a sudden and devastating tragedy. She will not soon be forgotten by those closest to her, nor by the citizens of Hyrule."

I stare down at my lap as I listen to the empty speech of the man conducting the funeral. Everything he says floats out into the courtyard and settles on top of me like dust. I'm covered in his words. They're stale and clog my ears like cotton.

Barely a dozen people fill the seats around me. The only people who know of my mother's death are her family and my father's closest advisors. My father and I are sitting in the front. I thank the goddesses that her casket is closed. There is no way I would've been able to sit this close to her if it was open.

I hear the muffled sniffs of my mother's half sister behind me. I've only seen her a few times in my life. I don't think she and my mother got along. Her sobs are too throaty to be genuine.

My dress is black, unsurprisingly, and the dark fabric contrasts with my skin so I appear to be almost deathly pale. How fitting.

I can't focus on the funeral. My mind seems desperate to pay attention to anything but the reality of what's in front of me, both literally and figuratively. It almost feels like half of me knows why I'm here and has accepted it, and the other half is still stuck in the night she died.

I distract myself by thinking about all the ways I'm distracting myself until I'm completely lost in my thoughts. I don't realize the service is over until everyone but me is standing. I jump up. For a moment, a wave of relief washes over me—I can finally leave. Then I remember.

The burial.

My heart falls from my throat to the pit of my stomach. It sits like a rock inside me as I follow my father to the place she'll be buried. She chose for her grave to be in one of the castle courtyards. I only know because I heard some of my father's advisors muttering about it before the service.

We walk through the echoing hallways of the castle in a morbid, deathly quiet parade. The clack of expensive shoes hitting the ground feels like it's inside my head. I realize that we are moving towards the west half of the castle. Every place I go is in the east half, so I don't know the hallways very well. I inwardly chide myself. I live here, I shouldn't feel so lost in my own home.

We finally reach the burial site. I can't help but gasp when I see the courtyard she has chosen. There's blue. Everywhere. Dozens of different kinds of flowers are blooming everywhere, and every single one is a different shade of blue. Periwinkle, navy, cerulean, indigo…it was breathtaking. I then realize that this garden is a mirror image of my yellow garden on the other side of the castle.

"Father," I whisper, tugging on his sleeve. He moves his stern gaze onto me. His eyes are shining with tears. "N-nevermind, I apologize—" I say quickly, wishing I hadn't disturbed him for such a silly reason.

He cuts me off. "No, my darling. I do not mind. What is it that you need?"

"I was just curious because I know there is a garden just like this on the other side of the castle, but there everything is yellow. I was wondering why this is, and if there were possibly others like them?" I ask. I nearly cringe at how stilted I sound.

He smiles, but it somehow looks even more sad than a frown. "No, my darling. There are only two. They represent the king and queen of Hyrule. When a new monarch is crowned, the gardens are pulled up and replanted to fit the new ruler and their spouse. Those who are superstitious believe that when the gardens flourish, the rulers are doing well, and when they are not...well, I am sure you understand," he explained. I listen, but I am distracted because my father has done something he has never done before. As he spoke, he did not look at me once. He had always said that only a weak person would not look someone in the eye when talking to them. My father isn't weak. He's...a king. A leader. Someone to respect.

For some reason, him not meeting my eyes disturbs me almost as much as attending my own mother's funeral. I look at him intently. He continues to speak after pausing for a moment.

"Not many people are pleased with her choice to be buried here. It's a tradition from Hyrule's roots, but they see it more as old-fashioned," he finishes.

"Yes, Father. I understand now," I say. I nod, hoping the movement will cause him to turn his head and look at me or put his hand on my shoulder or acknowledge that I'm even there, something. Please.

He stares straight ahead.