Chapter twenty-one, The Scorned Knight
"Where's the Master Sword?" Commander Nell asked as he walked side by side with Link on their way out from the dungeons. Link curled the corner of his mouth, hoping that the topic could have been avoided, but unfortunately the Sword of Evil's Bane was too tremendous of a sight to merely forget, especially in its absence.
"I hid it safely away, Commander," he replied curtly. The Commander stopped briefly, and shot Link a muddled expression.
"Why, if I may ask?"
Link rolled his tense shoulders, still dreadfully uneasy about the situation. "It just―doesn't feel right. I can't stand to carry that sword. You should've seen the way all the men looked at me when they found out." Link looked down at his boots in disdain, noticing how they were covered in a mixture of mud and blood. "I've never felt so ashamed," he said, forcing himself to look the Commander in the eye, determined to show him proper respect.
"Ashamed!? You followed my orders."
Link sighed, hesitant to speak further. "May I have your permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Very well."
"I know why you ordered me to pretend to be the King. I'm not trying to deny that, but I also cannot deny that I believe it was a heavily miscalculated step." Link chose his words very carefully, as he was keen on not insulting the Commander's intuition. "Commander, I lied to those men. I made them believe I was someone else… I paraded around in a dead man's boots so to speak. I wielded a sword that I had no right to use, I can't help but feel like I took advantage of them, and insulted the King's good name." Link began to choke up a little, but he shook it off quicker than it started. "Speaking plainly, sir, I have committed a crime against my own brothers in their greatest time of need, and dishonored my King by being an imposter."
Commander Nell considered his words very carefully, taking on the burdensome weight with jagged eyes. "I cannot say I agree entirely, as I still believe that we successfully fought off the invaders because of the morale your disguise brought. However, I see your point." The Commander began to walk again, gesturing for Link to follow. "Link, I wish to apologize. In the heat of the moment I did not fully comprehend the possible backlash to this plan, nor did I see the true extent of the situation. Seeing that a lowly dungeon guard would have the audacity to spit in your face, I fear that I have unintentionally pitted your own brothers against you." Commander Nell looked him right in the eyes when he continued. "I promise that I will do everything in my power to clear your name, and take on the responsibility, but I fear the damage may have already been done."
Link stressfully ground his teeth. Hearing Commander Nell renounce his previous order only made him feel more ashamed and angry at himself. "Commander, you only did what you thought was best, and it worked. You should not have to take the blame. I will willing accept any punishment Lord Aron deems appropriate. I was the one who took up the sword wrongly in the first place."
"Quite frankly this is a matter that is outside of his jurisdiction. Seeing the gravity of the situation, only the Queen can decide that now."
"Then I will willing accept any punishment the Queen deems appropriate."
"And I will fight to prevent that. You were under my direct orders. The blame falls on me."
"But you did not order me to take up the Master Sword! That falls on me, Commander." Link's voice began to grow a little harsher, admittedly he was more upset with himself than his officer.
The Commander squinted his eyes, still obstinate on his stance. "No, I did not. But the Princess did. Or at least, that is how you explained it to me."
Link paused for a moment. "After I fought those specters using the Master Sword, and I carried―his body―to the peak, the Princess gave it back to me, saying that it answered to me now. But she was wrong. I am not worthy of it, the sword is not mine to use. Perhaps in that brief moment it was necessary, but not anymore." Link straightened his gaze and stared down to the end of the hallway, wishing the conversation would end.
"Did the King say anything to you?"
Link hesitated for a moment, realizing that he had already forgot the Kings words. "Well… He said the same thing the Princess said; that the sword answered to me, but it can't be true, I am not worthy of it."
"But the legend says that only those who are worthy can wield it. How could you wield it if you are not worthy?"
"It is because it was already pulled from its pedestal, therefore its trial was already complete. I merely used the sword without taking the test."
The Commander's eyebrows furrowed as he mulled over the information he was given. "I just don't know. But we don't have time to answer these questions. I will trust your judgement on the matter. If you truly believe that the Master Sword has not chosen you, then I would suggest you return it to the Princess until we can sort out this mess."
"I planned on doing just that. Although I fear she will not accept its return." Link took a deep breath, allowing his wild emotions to settle. "Besides. Now is not the time…"
"I suppose you're right," the Commander sighed, joining in on Link's misery. "Perhaps you should just keep it quiet for now." They reached the end of the hallway, and the Commander went to go right, opposite of where Link was heading. "I will have arrangements made for your travel back to Hyrule Castle. You and the Princess leave today… With the King. You will lead the convoy, as I am assigning a score of men to ensure safe travels. I will send word when its time. We will discuss the matter of the prisoners later."
"Yes, Commander." Link saluted, then turned left to return to his room. His heavy mind returned to the pressing matter of Drodvaltol, and the Faronish people. MiarindÍl said that they were peaceful people. Why would they invade here? Did she lie to me? He dismissed the last question, as it he could not back up the claim with logical reasons. Why would she need to lie about it? For all she knew, her people were long gone and dead, never to be seen again. Link began to form his plan of how he would get on of the prisoners to Faron for questioning. Once they would return to the castle, and the King laid to rest, he would ask for the Queens blessing and permission to return to the Citadel, take on of the prisoners, ideally Drodvaltol, and return to MiarindÍl. Once there, he hoped that she could translate everything the prisoner said, and use her vision to see into his mind to find out why they were here, and who the specters were.
The whole scenario was bizarre to him. What were the chances that he had met the once person in all of Hyrule that would know anything about these invaders? Perhaps he had a small role to play in the kingdoms future, but upon this conclusion he stubbornly determined that his role did not extend into the responsibility of The Sword. When the time is right, I will return The Sword to its rightful place, to await its Chosen One. He would not admit to himself that perhaps the Princess was right. Maybe he was chosen by The Sword, destined to fight back the Evil, but with every fiber in his being he truly wanted to believe that he could not possibly be worthy of that destiny, and denied any possibility of its validity. Once a simple knight, always a simple knight. Nothing more, nothing less, he reassured himself. The mere thought of him being chosen brought waves of fear to his heart; all he ever wanted was to be a loyal knight of the realm, not some prodigal hero. Besides. Every man in this Citadel resents me. They would never see me as some hero. I would be quite the opposite I'm sure.
Link continued further down his path, passing several knights who either glared at him suspiciously, or squinted their eyes, trying to determine if he was indeed the rumored imposter. He ran his fingers around the rim of his helmet, contemplating donning it again. No. I might as well get used to their hatred. He tucked it further under his arm, and turned left, walking down the corridor that led to his shabby and damp closet-room. Once inside, he felt around until he happened upon the wooden bedframe in the corner, and ensured that the Master Sword was still tucked safely away under the mattress. His finger grasped the scabbard, and he could feel the ornate golden details that covered the rich blue sheath. It was warm in his hand, the clear indicator that it was not a mere sword, but a mystical weapon, imbued with mysterious and tremendous power. Reluctantly he pulled it out from underneath the bed, inspecting the purple hilt and handle in the dim light that seeped through the doorway. He sighed, unsure of what he would do. While he was absolutely certain that he would not carry the sword on his back, he knew that if the Princess were to see him without it would cause her to become upset, which he had to avoid at all cost. He was stuck between a rock in a hard place, trapped between his own pride and the hatred the knights bore towards him, and the commands of his Princess. There was not right answer in his eye. He was too ashamed to carry it on his back, and yet duty-bound to do just that, so that he would not upset her. It would kill me to bring any unnecessary strife while she is mourning her father. The compromise he came upon was that he would simply carry the sheathed Master Sword in his hand, like he did when he returned to the Citadel. He pondered the issue a little longer. Maybe I can make it more convincing. At that moment, a horrid and disingenuous idea came to his head. He thought about using the longsword tied on his hip to cut a piece of the leather strap so that the buckle would break loose. It would make it impossible to secure to his back, and then he would claim it to be his excuse for not bearing it. Yes, do it you coward, one voice shouted at him. Please don't do it, begged the other.
I'm sorry father, but I can't stand it. I am a dishonest man to the core. I do not have the strength or will to carry this burden. I am doomed to bring shame no matter what I do now, so I might as well make the best of it. He drew his sword to begin cutting away at the buckle but he hesitated, frozen at the cusp of his decision. No amount of brash words from the darker of the two voices could make him break it.
"Dammit!" Unable to bring himself to such dishonesty, he sheathed his long sword, and wrapped the belt of the Master Sword around its scabbard so that he could carry it in one hand unburdened. He closed his eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath to calm his rising heartrate, before finally exiting his room. His boots echoed on the lonely corridor, until he suddenly heard the loud clatter of footsteps coming from around the corner. He hiked his helmet up under his arm further, and gripped the Master Sword so that it would hang to his side, pointed towards floor, pressed against his leg, effectively reducing its profile. Three knights turned the corner, and judging by their armor he knew that they were a part of the Cavalry, no doubt some of the men that followed him in the charge. Link stepped closer to one side of the wall, praying that they would just pass him by, but as they drew close it was obvious that they knew exactly who he was.
"Hiding in your little corner, huh?" the leader scoffed, glaring as he walked forward. Link said nothing, and maintained his steady pace, until they cut him off. "I asked you a question, Sergeant."
Link held his ground, and puffed out his chest. "I was getting something from my room. Now I'm needed at the peak." Link took one step, intending to brush past them, but the knights held out their elbows, preventing him from passing.
"Is that where you hid all your disguises?" the leader sneered. He was so close that Link could feel his breath, but he did not back down or look away. "I hope you're happy with yourself, imposter."
"I followed my orders. I did not ask for this!"
"'Oh I followed my orders,'" he mocked. "Is that what you said when you robbed the King of his sword?"
"I don't have time for this," Link declared before he forced his way through the group, nearly stumbling on their feet. When he broke through he shifted his shoulders and grip so that he could better hold The Sword, and his helmet. Without warning he felt a strong hand around his shoulder as he was jerked back around. Before he could even see what happened, something hit his temple with such force that he blacked out for a moment and fell to the ground. Blood poured out from his busted eyebrow, blinding his right eye, and his eyes watered from the pain. His head jarred around wildly, and his sense of balance was completely disrupted, making it impossible to stand. Through the hazy and lacking vison of his left eye he looked up to see that the leader's metal-gloved hand was wound tightly in a fist, and had his blood on the knuckles. It took him a moment to realize what had happened. When his back was turned, the knight had jerked him back and swung at him with his full strength and metal gauntlet. Despite his best efforts, Link could not stand, and so he settled on kicking away, but his attacker perused, and pinned him down on the ground with his heavy and armor cased boot.
"How dare you!" The knight sneered through his teeth, his face was red from anger. "How dare you mock the King like that. How dare you steal his sword as he died. Was it you that killed him? Did you stab him in the back so that you could take his sword, and galivant around like you're a hero?" Link used his foot to kick the knight away, and he eventually managed to stumble to a stand, but the two other knights wrapped their hands around his arms and pinned him against the wall, holding his legs back by standing on his feet.
"I did not kill him! Those specters did! I only picked up the sword because I had no weapon of my own―"
"And so you decided to insult the King in the hour of his death to play little games, and waltz around like you're a big deal? You disgust me!" He punched Link in the stomach, causing him to lose all the air in his lungs as he crippled over.
"I'm sorry," he finally gasped. Link writhed and tried to free himself, but the two knights firmly held him against the wall. "I did what I thought was right in that moment! I never wanted to insult the King, or mislead you! I didn't want to pretend to be the King, I was only following my orders."
"Why should we believe you!? No one trusted you to begin with. And now that you have done this, we never will trust you!" Again, he struck Link in the face with his jagged metal fist, sending his head into a dizzying swirl of pain and haze, incapable of fighting back. He had fought against much worse odds before, but that was when he was expecting it. That was when he was facing off against people that were his enemies, but this; he did not expect such an assault from his own comrades when his back was turned and he was unaware. He could not see the Master Sword or his helmet, the latter he desperately wished he had, as it would have protected his face.
"How does it feel, traitor? How does it feel to be the most hated knight in Hyrule? Was it worth it, imposter?" Link did not respond, entirely to shaken up and incapable of forming cohesive arguments at the current moment. "We will see what punishment Lord Aron deems worthy of such a pig as yourself." With their last spiteful comments spat at him, they let him go and he helplessly slumped to the floor, neither wishing to fight back, nor possessed the strength or will to respond to the cheap shot. They stormed off in angry footsteps, leaving him alone in the solitude of the corridor.
Link sat there, still attempting to regaining his full cognition, wiping away the blood and tears from his eyes. The cut on his brow was but a small horizontal gash, no bigger than a coin, but it bled profusely, and so he had to sit still as he applied firm and painful pressure to it. Again, he cursed his weakness. What if they had intended to kill you!? You would have been helpless to stop them! How could you let your guard down like that? After killing countless savages, you fall prey to a mere three knights? Despicable. They're right. You are just a disgusting coward. You should have never picked up that sword.
No! You did what you thought was best! You didn't pick up that sword because you wanted to, you did it because you needed to!
Well did you need to insult the King by pretending to be him!?
It wasn't like that! You know it wasn't! You did not ask for that!
But you followed the Commander's order anyways! You knew it was wrong all along. It's like you danced on his grave, and cursed his name. Why don't you just usurp his throne while you're at it!?
The King himself told you were the next Chosen Hero! Does that mean nothing to you?
The King. The Princess. They were both wrong. They don't know how messed up and pathetic you are.
Oh just shut up! Link winced and grunted, to angry to deal with the battle in his head. After what seemed like an eternity, the bleeding finally stopped, and he finally felt stable enough to stand. The side of his face ached, and his head pounded, but he managed to shake off the blinding pain. After picking up his helmet and the Master Sword he shuffled back to his room and found a small rag from his bag. He used the coarse rag to wipe away the blood that ran down his cheek, taking great care to not disturb the blood that clotted up the gash on his brow, as it was preventing it from bleeding further. When no more blood came off his face or eyelid he discarded the rag and put on his helmet.
Despite the weight it put on his aching head, it was a relief and a weight of his chest to feel its cold embrace once again. I promise to only take you off when it's absolutely necessary. It made him feel pathetic; taking comfort in an inanimate object, but what else, or who else would he turn to? His own mind was at war, everyone in the Citadel hated him, and he could not and would not express his troubles to the Princess. Especially now! Jonathan and Commander Nell were the only people he thought would come close, but the Commander was his superior, so he could not seek comfort from him, and he figured Jonathan would despise him like the other men.
Such is the price for failure. When he was confident he could go on without stumbling, or show any signs of pain, he struck grudgingly out again to venture to the peak. He held the Master Sword in his hand as he walked, occasionally glancing down at it in disgust. Whereas before it was merely a disheartening object to him, it was now becoming a source of his anguish and anger. All this pain because of you, he swore. You and my own stupidity. He was ready to be rid of the fabled Master Sword. All his life he heard of its glamour and power; stories that he once gobbled up with fanatic adoration, but now that he was given the responsibility of being its temporary courier, he grew to loath it for the suffering it brought to him. Soon I'll be free from you. Then I can return to my true duty… That is unless I am found guilty of treason. He shuddered from the thought. Realistically, he imagined the Princess would never allow that to happen, but it was still a possible reality that he might face, now that all the cards were in the air. Lord Aron has a real reason to put me behind bars now. Despite what Commander Nell says, he very much could determine my fate, should he feel that bold.
His stomach grumbled, stirring him from his spouts of self-loathing. He could not even remember the last time he had eaten. It seemed that hunger was a recurring theme that he began to grow more accustom to, but even he had his limits. His muscles felt sluggish and his eyes were red and heavy. The toll of war and emotional trauma were taking their effects on him, but he kept walking, feeling like a small boat trapped in a sea of crashing waves that threated to capsize him and send him into insanity. The knowledge that he was now the most despised knight in the Citadel weighed heavy on his heart, but he did not allow self-pity to consume him, as he reassured himself that he deserved the beating he received at the hands of his comrades.
His chest constricted when he reached the entrance to the elevator, still anxious to present himself to his Princess. There was no putting off this time, however, and so after he stepped on and close the gate, he threw the switch and ascended to the peak. The air was freezing at the top, as a cold westerly wind had blown in, further solidifying the fact that an early winter would soon set in the coming weeks. Link cautiously approached the front door of the manor, being stopped by a lone guard.
"State your business."
"I am the Princess's Appointed Knight. I've come to report back to her."
The guard glared critically, and observed the Master Sword in his hand, and squinted at his visor. "I've heard some nasty rumors about you. I will send word to Lord Aron before I allow you in. If he allows you in that is."
Link grunted, but did not verbally protest. "Very well."
The guard leaned in through the door and spoke to one of the nearby footmen, ordering him to alert Lord Aron of Link's arrival. After a few minutes the footmen returned, and gestured for Link to enter. Inside was much warmer, but he did not pay much attention to it. He peered to the left, looking at the table that he had laid the King's body on, noting that the white linens were now removed, but the King was nowhere to be seen.
"Lord Aron is in his study resting his head. He says that you are to report to him immediately."
Link nodded apprehensively, feeling as if he were walking into a trap. He pressed the feeling from his mind and proceeded to the study, and knocked on the large wooden door. He heard no reply, and so he raised his hand to knock again but then the door flew open, and a young guard ushered him in. Lord Aron was sitting at his desk, feet propped up, and he was leaned back with a wet rag wrapped around his head with his eyes closed. In his hand was a small glass of what appeared to be a strong liquor, which he downed with a grimace. The fair lord paid no heed to Link as he entered, obviously in a lot of pain from his head injury. When Link brought himself to stand in front of Lord Aron's desk, he bowed dutifully, greeting him with 'my lord.' The young lord opened his left eye and gazed up at him with a look of distaste, as if the very light he cast was giving him a headache.
"Remove your helmet, you oaf," he ordered with a sarcastic tone. Link did as he commanded, taking extra care to avoid scraping the gash on his brow. Lord Aron squinted at the bloody cut, before continuing with a repulsed grunt. "Never mind. I see now why you wore it. You may put it back on if you wish." Link did not immediately replace it, deciding that he would wear it once he was dismissed. "I have already gathered a report from Commander Nell about what happened with the Cavalry. But I'm not interested in that right now. I want to know what happened in the courtyard. Tell me exactly what happened after I was knocked unconscious."
Link was admittedly taken aback. He imagined that Lord Aron would have charged him with treason on the spot, and would have had him arrested, but he uncharacteristically seemed willing to hear his report. "Well. As I was leading the Princess to the peak, the red-flamed specter cut us off. I fought it off for a moment but then it disappeared and reappeared, and knocked me over the railing of the staircase, and I fell to the level below. My sword must have fallen off the cliff, as I could not find it anywhere when I awoke. The Princess used her powers to fend off the specter, and even managed to send it on the retreat. When I climbed the stairs to rush back to the Princess, I watched as one of those―things―drove its sword through the Kings chest while he was pinned down." Link closed his eyes and cleared his throat before he continued.
"I hesitated, unsure of what to do, until I saw the Master Sword on the ground nearby. And so, I picked it up with the intent of killing the specters. I fought off two of them for a time, but then the third one showed up and I began to waver. It wasn't until the Princess saved me that I was able to strike at one of them, and I broke some strange amulet around its neck that sent out a power shockwave. When everything was said and done, they retreated, unable to break past the barrier set by the Princess." The memory played back in his mind in rapid flashes of imagery, and his voice trembled.
"The King spoke his final goodbyes and then―he passed. I carried his body to the peak, and then I carried you up as well. It was then that the Princess gave the Master Sword to me and declared that it answered to me. From there I went to join the others in battle, and the rest of what followed is what Commander Nell should have covered already…" Link felt winded after his rushed report, just thankful that he held it together.
Lord Aron did not move or open his eyes. He only sighed. "And does the Master Sword answer to you?"
Again, Lord Aron's calmness pleasantly surprised Link. While his tone wasn't exactly pleasant, it did not bear the same condescending air. "That is what the Princess said. Even the King shared the same idea, but I don't agree."
Lord Aron's eye opened slightly as he shot a skeptical glance. "Then why would you use it to fight further?"
Link fidgeted, anxiously forming his words carefully. "In the heat of the moment it did not cross my mind. It was not until after it was done that I realized my transgression. I did what I had to do to fight back the specters, but my extended use of it afterwards was unnecessary and wrong, even if they said I should." Link bowed down slightly, still feeling that he deserved punishment for his 'crime.' "Lord Aron, I willingly give myself to your judgement for my trespasses. I wielded the Master Sword under false pretenses after it was no longer necessary for me to use, and I impersonated the King at the order of Commander Nell, even though I knew it was a great sin."
Lord Aron grunted, half amused and half annoyed. "Don't you ever get tired of being all self-righteous?" It certainly wasn't the response he expected.
"I merely wish to do what is right, my lord."
Lord Aron sighed before lowering his legs, and rested his elbows on his desk, removing the cool rag from his head. "I've been hearing a lot of rumors about you. Seems like the men aren't too pleased with your―performance. What are your thoughts on the matter?" He motioned for Link to stand up straight, which he did gladly as lowering his head made it pound harder.
"It of course brings me great pain, but I understand their anger." Link dipped his chin slightly, feeling the tension in the back of his neck.
"Judging by the freshness of the blood on your brow, I imagine you've already had a pleasant run in with your sour shield-brothers?"
"… Yes, my lord. Hence the helmet. Its rather unpleasant to look at, I'm sure." Link's voice was melancholy.
Lord Aron grunted again, raising his eyebrows slight before changing the subject. "Well, seeing that both the Princess and the King ordered you to carry The Sword, there are no disciplinary actions that I can take." He grimaced in pain as he carefully stood from his chair, and walked to the small alcohol table to his right. He poured himself another drink, and drank it in one large gulp. "That is up to the Queen now." He poured two glasses, and then handed one to Link. It was a gesture of mutual understanding that made Link almost respect the arrogant lord who now seemed humbled by his near-death experience. "Besides. Were it not for your actions, I fear I would not be alive. And from what I gather from Commander Nell's report, we would still be fighting off those brutes. Regardless of how the other men feel, you did what you were told." Link was dumbfounded by his statement. From the moment Lord Aron had met him he was always actively trying to antagonize him, to the point of threatening to whip him, but now seemed like a completely different man. Perhaps the events of that early morning changed something deep within him. Lord Aron shuffled back to his chair before painfully falling into it. Link drank his liquor, feeling it burn his throat on the way down, but it was a nice change in senses.
"Returning to the topic of The Sword, how were you able to wield it if you are not even worthy?"
Link took another sip from his drink before continuing. "I explained to Commander Nell that I believe I was able to bear it because it was already drawn from its pedestal, and thus its trial complete. It is because of that fact that I think I was able to use it as if it were any other sword…" He omitted that part about how it made him feel stronger, as he still dismissed it as mere adrenaline.
Lord Aron contemplated his words with stern eyes. "So," he continued with a gravelly voice. "What will you do with the Master Sword, since it seems you are not truly worthy of it?"
"When the time is right, I will return it to the Royal Family, or to its proper resting place. Although for now, I will merely ensure its safety, but I will not wield it." Link held the Master Sword out slightly as he studied the immaculate weapon. "I fear that my rejection of it might upset the Princess, which is the last thing we need, given the―situation." His words weighed heavily on Lord Aron, as he only nodded slowly, gazing off to the corner listlessly. Even the lord renowned for his charisma and charm was unabashedly saddened by the King's tragic death.
"That's probably for the best." Lord Aron leaned forward again, and rested his elbows on the desk, rubbing his tired eyes. "We have so much work to do. There's so much that we don't know, but we cannot let our guard down for even a second. Those bastards could come back any minute, which is why you and the Princess will be escorted back to Hyrule Castle along with the King as soon as the preparations are complete."
"Yes, my lord. Commander Nell already informed me." Link considered bringing up their discovery in the dungeons, but seeing that it was just another drop of water in the already overflowing cup of 'things to worry about,' he decided that he would bring up the matter at a more appropriate time. They had more pressing matters to attend to, and it was about time for him to report to the Princess.
"Good. You are dismissed then."
"Thank you, my lord." Link bowed and then left the room, admittedly relived with how smoothly their conversation had went. Of all the men in the Citadel he thought would inspect the situation with a reasonable and cautious eye, Lord Aron was certainly not one of them. Regardless, Link appreciated the change of heart. After speaking with one of the servants, he learned that the Princess was still with her father's body in the head physician's office on the far east corner of the manor. Unenthusiastically, he donned his helmet and made his way through the many hallways and corridors, eventually coming upon the threshold of what he assumed was the office of Lieutenant Emanuel, the head medical officer. He leaned his ear in to see if he could hear anyone inside, but either there was no noise to be heard, or his helmet made it too difficult to hear properly. He quietly knocked on the door and awaited a reply. After a brief pause the handle jostled, and then the door creaked open slightly. A middle-aged man with graying hair, and a crooked nose peered outside, and squinted up into Link's visor.
"May I help you?" he asked with a very quiet voice.
"I was told Princess Zelda is here," he whispered.
"And you are?"
"Her Appointed Knight. I have come to report back to her." Link brought forward the Master Sword, showing it as proof to who he was, instead of removing his helmet.
"I will speak with her privately for a moment." He leaned out further and spoke even quieter. "Now might now be the best time. She refuses to leave, despite my insistence. She's practically fallen asleep in my office."
"Of course, Lieutenant. Whatever makes her the most comfortable." When the door closed Link allowed his shoulder to slouch, feeling stamped down by the crushing weight of depression. He took the moment of silence as a chance to give himself a pep talk, swearing to be bear his emotions with strength and courage, for the Princess's sake. She will need every ounce of her courage, and I will be there, as her unwavering support; staying within the realms of appropriateness, of course.
Hylia bless her poor soul, and give me the strength to carry her burdens in any way I can. I as for strength for I am weak and unworthy, but with your blessing I hope that I can be the foundation on which she stands. Help me be a faithful and loyal servant.
When his prayer concluded, the door creaked back open, and the Lieutenant gestured for Link to enter slowly. The room was dim, and a heavy feeling of sorrow hung in the very atmosphere. In the center of the room, on a large wooden table was laid out a figure, draped in a white linen. His heart stopped, then proceeded, as he took one silent step after another. On the right wall there was an open door which led to a small room which had the medical officers desk and records, along with countless shelves of medical supplies and elixirs. His princess sat in a small recliner in the far-right corner, leaning in to the high back of the chair, her arm propped up and supporting her head, concealing her eyes. It looked like she had fallen asleep in the time it took for Lieutenant Emanuel to retrieve him. Link's footsteps did not make a sound, as he brought himself before his shattered and broken lady. Being just as quiet as before, Link got down on both knees―the unequivocal show of complete sympathy and submission―and bowed his head so low that it almost touched the floor at her feet. It was the humbleness of a servant that truly cared for and respected his master, desiring nothing more than her wellbeing, no matter the circumstances. He held the Master Sword by the scabbard in both hands, clutching in the crook of his bent torso. His sudden appearance startled her, as he was so stealthy that she did not even notice him kneel.
"My lady. I have returned from battle. While I was unable to avenge your father, I did all that was in my power to fight back the invaders that murdered our people." He did not raise his head, nor did he move his body. "I humble myself before you for my failure, and offer my sincerest condolences. My heart, as well as every heart in Hyrule beats with sorrow for the loss of our great king, your father." He awaited to hear her response, ready to only rise at her bidding. Not a word fell from her lips, and he feared that he had already upset her. He closed his eyes and ground his teeth, but still he did not raise his head, and his heart trembled with apprehension.
Suddenly he felt the weight of a delicate hand on his helmet, which eventually found its way to the cheekbone of the visor. She lifted his head up, and his heart broke when he looked into her tear ravaged eyes; beautiful and emerald green as ever, but dread-filled and solemn. He stared into her eyes, unable to remove his gaze, completely captivated. She did not remove her hand from his helmet, but she did look up to the medical officer in the other room.
"Lieutenant, would mind giving me a moment alone?" Her voice was soft and sweet, but had lost all past inclinations towards cheeriness.
"Of course, my lady." The Lieutenant bowed deeply before disappearing from the office. Her other hand came to grasp the other side of Link's helmet and she straightened his head to peer into his visor. His heart beat quicker, growing more terrified and gloomy by the second.
"Why do you cover your face?" she asked in almost a whisper, blinking away watery eyes.
No amount of preparation could have readied him for the way her simple, yet hefty question would ravage his mind. How could I have not thought to come up with a reasonable answer beforehand!? He cursed his stupidity, rushing to find an answer. Should he tell her the truth? Explain his shame? No, he decided.
"Do you wish for me to remove it, my lady?" She paused momentarily, then nodded. He felt like he had just dodged an arrow by answering her question with another question, but he did not take comfort in it for long as he feared she would surely question his brow. He began to move his hands to remove his helmet, but she started to pull it from his head caringly slow. He wanted to stop her, as it was below her status to do such a thing, but his helmet was removed before he could even protest. He turned his gaze down, still too ashamed to look into her eyes with his face uncovered. She set his helmet on the ground next to him before returning to him.
"Why do you hide your eyes now?" The question sent a wave of doubt and fear through his body. He was terrified to answer.
"Because I am fearful, my lady." It was like poison on his tongue, admitting his emotion. A loyal servant was not supposed to display fear, anger, love, and hatred. A servant was to remain loyal and true.
"Fearful of what?"
"My own weakness…" He clenched his eyes shut, griping any and all senses of 'wrong' emotion by the neck and tried to snuff it out. Her soft hand brushed against his jaw, and she gently lifted his head. He felt so exposed without his helmet. He felt as if she could gaze into the deepest corners of his heart and disarm him with one wave of the hand, or deconstruct him with one word from her tongue. Under her eyes he feared that no amount of denial could hide his mind from her.
"Please. Stand." It was not a command from a Princess. It was an honest, teary-eyed plea from a young woman who desperately needed someone. Reluctantly he stood, still bowing his head. She stood up from her chair, never breaking her eye contact. Then, without warning, she surged forward and wrapped her arms around his torso, and buried her face into his chest. His will was being severed with every passing moment, but he did not dare pull away from her desperate embrace. Earlier that day it was he who initiated such an embrace, but it was because he felt that it was necessary; or at least that's what he wanted to convince himself of. However, now it felt horribly improper of him to accept it, and yet it felt even worse to reject it. The Master Sword was still in his left hand, and so he merely reached his right arm around and secured her.
"Were taking you back home as soon as the convoy is ready, my lady." She did not respond, but he could feel her head turn slightly as she rested her cheek against his chest, sniffling and sobbing silently.
"Link."
"Yes, my lady?"
"Are you okay?"
He bit his tongue and guarded his words. Even in a time like this she wants to know how I am? What have I done to deserve her care? "Don't worry about me, my lady. Such is not your responsibility."
"But I do. All the time." She pulled her head back, and looked up to his bloody brow. "How did you get that if you were wearing your helmet the whole time?"
He sighed with relief that she posed her question in a way that he could still answer truthfully, without having to explain exactly how he received the gash. "I wasn't always wearing it when it happened, my lady."
"How did it happen?"
Shit. He previous relief was now dashed. "It's not important, my lady." He let go of her, and removed himself from her arms in the politest way he could. "We need to get you ready to go. Commander Nell will send word very soon. Allow me to escort you to your room, so that you may gather your things." She seemed upset by his separation, but she did not fight against it, which he was immensely grateful for. She sighed despondently before continuing.
"Okay. Thank you, Link."
"Of course, my lady." He bowed, glad for her cooperation. With his right hand, he gestured to the door, ready to follow her. However, she did not walk forward, she instead stood by his side and held out her hand to his arm.
"Please. I'm afraid I'll stumble. I feel weak." Her plea was not solely stemmed from a desire to be close to him, it was an honest request for help, and Link could see its truth with her eyes. Had the situation been different he would have tried to argue that it was not proper protocol for him to escort her in this way, but seeing her trembling, he readily and willing extended his arm to her. It was the least he could do.
"Of course, my lady." Judging by the amount she leaned on his support, it was clear that using her powers was a physical and emotional drain for her. He led her to the door after he picked up his helmet, but she motioned to the table that supported her father first. Her hand shook as she stretched it out to feel his arm beneath the white linen. She began to sniffle again, holding back her tears.
"We're taking you home father. You'll be at peace there." She held her breath for a moment, before whispering: "I love you, father." Link's lip began to quiver, and his eyes grew wet, but he bit down and willed his tears away. No. Not in front of her.
Goddess, what will I say about The Sword?
Zelda found that holding on to him with one arm was not enough to stop her from nearly tripping. With her other hand, she grasped onto his forearm, and brought herself closer so that she could lean against him. Her mother had always warned her about over exerting her powers, saying that once she passed her threshold, her physical strength would deteriorate for a while, and it would take time to return. She had felt mild tiredness before, but nothing compared to the exhaustion that seemed to seep into her very bones. Her knees began to shake and she could feel herself beginning to collapse under her own weight. She would have hit the ground had Link not caught her, and safely lowered her down, supporting her back and head with his arms. It was the first time she noticed that the Master Sword was not on his back, as he had set it down on the floor beside him.
"My lady, are you all right?" His eyes were so full of worry, and his eyebrows peaked up to the center of his forehead.
"I'm sorry. My powers drained me a little more than I thought they would. I've never experienced it to this degree." Lieutenant Emanuel stepped out from his office in a hurry, hearing Link's distressed voice.
"Princess, are you ill?" the medical officer knelt beside her, and began to examine her.
"No. I'm not ill. By body is just exhausted." When the Lieutenant had confirmed her statement, he jogged back to his office, and reemerged with a small vial of green liquid.
"Drink this. It should help your stamina return, but it will take time."
"Are you strong enough to stand?" Link asked. Just by testing if she could prop herself up with her own hands, she knew that it was futile.
"No. I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry for, my lady. I made you stand to soon, I should be the one apologizing." Judging by his expression he believed that it was his fault.
"You couldn't have known. I barely knew it myself."
"You need to lie down. I can carry you to your room, my lady."
"Thank you, Link." She smiled politely, although she admittedly felt a little embraced by having to be carried to her room. A smile, she remarked. It felt strange on her mouth now, she felt as if it was the first time she smiled in decades. It was a welcome change to the nearly incapacitating tears she wept, seemingly with no end. Link asked for the medical officer to hold her up for a moment as he donned his helmet and strapped the Master Sword on his back so that his arms were free to carry her. Why did he take off The Sword in the first place? She thought that perhaps he did so to change, as he was now wearing a black tunic, instead of the leather one he wore earlier that morning, but that wouldn't explain why it took him this long to reattach it, and on top of that, he had a long sword already on his hip. As he tightened the buckle she noticed how discomforted he looked, and wondered what troubled him. I'll ask him later. When the Lieutenant isn't around.
Without a hint of effort, Link ran one arm under her legs at the knee, and cradled her back and shoulders in the other, standing in one fluid motion. It was like she was weightless in his arms, which she was grateful for, as she hated the idea of being a burden for him. She nestled her tired head against his shoulder, and reveled in its warmth. Looking up at his head, she was a little disheartened to see that dreadful helmet on his head again, and wished he would just throw it away. However, like a sword, a helmet was a tool necessary for protection, and so she tried to change her attitude to positive feelings, just glad to see him actually taking steps to ensure his own safety.
"Do you ever grow tired of wearing helmets?" she asked quietly as he carried her through the desolate halls.
"No, my lady. I find them to be quite useful for many things."
"Many things?" she asked, intrigued by his odd specification of 'many.' Link paused for a moment before answering the simple question.
"Yes. Arrows, swords, axes. A trusty helmet can mean the difference between life an―" He cut himself short, although she already understood what he was going to say due to the commonality of the phrase. She knew why he cut himself off. He was worried that the mention of death would remind her of her father; which it did, but she was determined to not show it. For his sake. She held her breath for a moment, ceasing the advance of tears, and eventually they passed. How odd she thought it was, that in the wake of all the horrible things that had come, and the disastrous things that would soon follow, that she would find comfort in their menial conversation. She had wept so much that it made her eyes hurt and ached in that dreadful office, but being carried in his tender arms was like a blanket of security and comfort. In that moment she never wanted to leave his embrace, regardless of the strain between them. It was more than that now. She did not want to be in his arms because she loved him, she wanted to be in his arms because she was frightened beyond belief, and he was the only soul in the Citadel that personally understood her toil, and could put her restless heart at ease. How was he so strong when his father passed? I never saw him shed a single tear. Even when he nearly collapsed in my arms as he was haunted by the images of the Gerudo child, he pulled himself from the brink of despair and fought on. She leaned her head against his chest again, and listened to his surprisingly steady heartbeat.
"I suppose you're right," she finally responded after the long pause of her numbing thoughts. Her ear brushed against the cold buckle of the belt that held the Master Sword on his back, which rekindled her curiosity as to why he had removed it. "Link."
"Yes, my lady." His tone was gentle, but solemn.
"What happened after you left?" There was a long pause, long enough to make her fear that she upset him. Luckily, he finally responded, and while it was even quieter than before, there was a nurturing air to it.
"Many things, my lady. But, if I could have your permission, I would wish to not speak of it now. You are weak, and need rest." No doubt he wanted to spare her the details, which she surprisingly found herself grateful for, terrified that she would not have the mental capacity to handle such a thing, but she intended to lead her questions to a more specific goal.
"Of course. At a better time perhaps… What about the Master Sword?"
"What of the Master Sword, my lady?" Despite his attempts to hide it, she sensed the slightest tremor of worry in his voice, which was not a good sign.
"Did you feel anything?"
He pondered her question meaningfully. "I felt a great number of things." It was not the answer she hoped for, but judging by the discomfort he hid, it was clear it was another topic he wished to avoid.
"Any particular reason you've only just now slung it to your back, in addition to the sword on your hip?" Beforehand his pace never changed, but at this question she noticed a considerable decrease in his speed, and she instantly knew it was not pleasant.
"My lady, don't worry yourself with these things. Please, allow yourself some rest. I will watch over you, and keep you safe."
That's not a good sign. Did something go horribly wrong? She opened her mouth to press in, but his voice interrupted.
"Ma'am."
"Oh my! Is she all right!?" Her handmaid was walking down the hallway, and began to rush over to her side, placing caring hands on her arm. Zelda nodded, growing increasingly tired.
"Yes, she's okay. Her body is just exhausted from her powers. She needs rest. Can you open the door to her room?"
"Of course, Master Link! Right this way, dear."
Master Link, she remarked. For years her family speculated that he would be chosen by the sword, and for a short while they were absolutely certain of it, but hearing him being referred to as 'Master Link' brought a surreal sense to her. At the fall of the old, a new Chosen Hero arose, and yet he still carried himself as if he wanted nothing more than to be a faceless shadow. Perhaps that is the source of his conflict. Is that why he seems to bear the sword with apprehension?
Link was right however. Now was not the time to discuss such terribly ominous subjects; she could not stand on her own as it was, and her mind was like thin thread holding up a led weight, threatening to snap at any moment. Her handmaid led them into her room, and Link lowered her gently onto her bed. Her maid set about removing her boots and then pulled the heavy covers over her.
"Ma'am, if you would begin gathering and packing her things. We're leaving today while we have to chance."
"Of course, Master Link." Their voices grew to whispers, and Zelda struggled to hear them as she felt herself already slipping into sleep. "Are you sure she is well enough for travel?"
Link sighed quietly. "She won't be able to ride on horseback. I'll ensure she has a place to comfortably sit on the wagon. It's either that, or I will have to carry her all the way back to Hyrule Castle." The maid nodded solemnly before leaving the room to begin gather the Princesses things. Zelda could barely keep her eyes open as she watched Link return to her side.
He knelt on one knee so that his head was level with hers. "My lady, I will be right outside. If you need me, just call. I will keep an open ear." He stood to leave but she instinctively grabbed onto his hand.
"Please. Don't leave me in here alone…" She couldn't fight her tears back any longer, and she began to sob lightly. "Please. I just need someone by me. In case anything happens…"
He paused thoughtfully, and for a moment she could see the faint glimmer of his blue eyes in the openings of his visor. "Of course, my lady." His response was one of the rare cases that she could hear the honesty in his voice. It wasn't the calculated and calm cadence of a servant. It was the soft gentle voice of a dear and caring friend, the friend that she lost to a stranger. She looked expectantly at his helmet, and dipped her chin in the slightest of gestures. He seemed reluctant to comply, but he eventually removed his metal mask and set it down on the side table. She motioned for him to pull up a chair and sit, which she was surprised to find that he did not protest. After removing the Master Sword from his back, and leaning it against the wall, he carefully sat down, practically falling to his seat. He did not wince or grunt, but she could see that either his head or back must have hurt because as he stiffly sat, his teeth bore down, and his upper lip curled.
"Is there anything I can do for you, my lady?" Zelda wiped away the warm tears from her cheek with the back of her hand, and then pulled the covers over her shoulders as she leaned on one side so that she could look at Link.
"Link."
"Yes, my lady?"
"Are you scared?"
He tilted his head as if he was confused. "Of?"
"His return?" Just uttering the words sent a shiver down her spine and made her cringe with fear. She closed her eyes and tried to forget the terrifying figures that murdered her father, but she was failing to do so until Link's calm voice stirred her.
"I honestly haven't put much thought into it, my lady. I don't think my mind has caught up to that point yet." He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and continued. "But seeing that you single handedly saved my life, I'd say we're in good hands. You will rise to the occasion, and triumph." A kind, boyish smile stretched across his lips, and for a moment she was comforted.
"Do you really believe that?"
His intense eyes locked with hers in a way he had not done in years. "Through and through, my lady." He leaned back into his chair and adjusted his body so that he was a little more comfortable. "Now. Try and get some rest, my lady. I will wake you when its time."
Too tired to disagree, she closed her eyes, remarking that she still had not gotten an answer from him as to why he held the Master Sword with such apprehension. Sleep took her before could think on the matter any further.