Part of the SILENT PRINCESS BLOOMING Series

"The Trouble With Expectations"
Chapter 1: Keeping Secrets

A/N: Wow, can you believe it, the next installment in the Anger Management series is here! Quarantine has really been a boon to my WIPs. I'll be updating this story twice a week over 3 weeks, on Tuesdays and Fridays. I hope you all enjoy!

Zelda lifted the small vial of red liquid to her lips, withholding a gag as the acrid odor wafted into her nose. Pointedly plugging both nostrils between forefinger and thumb she tilted her head back, downing the elixir as quickly as possible. She tossed the vial hastily aside before reaching for the glass of wildberry juice atop her desk, chasing the elixir's bitter aftertaste with the tart but flavorful beverage.

Though the contraceptive elixir proved more… unpleasant to consume than anticipated, she nonetheless felt eased as it settled in her stomach. This was her second dose—the dose which would allow her to freely engage in sexual activity without fear of pregnancy. It was more of a relief to be rid of that lingering concern than she'd anticipated; she suspected she hadn't even realized just how it was weighing on her until it was relieved. Though, she felt her face warm at the thought of what it meant for her and Link's rendezvous that evening. What would it be like to remain joined, she wondered, as he…

She blushed, setting the glass down more heavily upon the surface of her desk than she'd intended.

Turning, she shook herself from such scandalous thoughts, forcing her attention to the more pressing matter of hiding the haphazard pile of illicit ingredients. She'd taken advantage of her father's preoccupation that morning—an involved meeting with his advisers to discuss budgetary matter, to complete the lengthy process of brewing several weeks worth of contraceptive elixir; but time was getting on, and he would soon be done if he were not already. And once he was, he would begin to wonder where she was and whether she was praying at the castle shrine as she ought; which currently she was not.

Crossing to the far side of the room she opened a low cabinet, pulling out the books, journals and other odds and ends which currently occupied the space until the back of the cabinet was exposed. Then she reached in, pressing her fingertips hard against the left side. The sound of scraping wood echoed dully within the cabinet until the rear of the panel angled and popped open—revealing a false back, and hidden chamber behind.

She had discovered it by accident while playing as a child, and in her youth it had served to hide her diaries and the little research knick-knacks her father disapproved of. She had only ever told one person of the hidden compartment's existence—her mother. "It'll be our little secret, my love," her mother had said with a wink when a young Zelda showed her. On occasion she would open it to stash newfound treasures and find little caramels or other treats her mother had stashed away as a surprise. Aside from that endearment, it remained Zelda's own.

But then her mother passed and her father grew distant. It became one of the few remaining connections she had to her mother and she kept it as a deeply personal secret. As the years passed it grew to hold all the most intimate treasures she dared not share, and those things she was forbidden to possess. It had kept the research notes her father scorned, the strange and fascinating book about sexual intimacy she had found hidden in the library in her early teen years, and the diaries in which she wrote her most personal and pained thoughts.

And now, years later, it would hold her contraceptive elixirs as well.

Hurriedly, she tucked the ingredients and the vials into the hollow space, taking great pains to neatly replace the panel. Leaning back on her heels, she let out a breath and smiled.

Now she needed to hurry to the castle shrine to fulfill her daily devotions as her Father expected her to. Maintaining a flawless facade of obedience was of the utmost importance; having been barred from her research, her affair with Link was the only outlet she had left—her secret rebellion against the utter unfairness of her plight: sole keeper of the Goddess' powers, unable to wield it—trapped in an endless cycle of prostration and recrimination. She would not see this small freedom so quickly stolen from her because she failed to exercise enough caution.

She bit her lip as she stared at the empty cabinet, giving the false back a final furrowed stare. It was strange, though. Despite her determination to carry on and the care she had taken pains to exercise, she couldn't help but feel a little nervous about it all. She had never before engaged in such a serious and long-running act of defiance. Though both she and Link had been extraordinarily careful and none seemed any the wiser, she couldn't help but fear the possibility of discovery.

But when her mind inevitably drifted to their time at the Fang and Bone—dancing together that first night, his touch electrifying her very soul… her heart shirked from its fear and felt, instead, utterly thrilled by her rebellion. For the first time in recent memory she was doing something for herself—and only for herself. With Link, she shed her mantle of responsibility, her burdens and fears, and let herself simply be—let herself simply want. It was her own happy secret that did not require the approval or consent of anyone else—something she could keep close to her heart, quiet and free.

It was this feeling she held close when the nervousness niggled at her—and it was this feeling which always served to banish it.

As she was replacing her books before the false back of the cabinet, a small smile gracing her lips, a knock came suddenly at the door. Startled, her knuckles knocked painfully against the side of the cabinet and she bit back a curse. Attempting to ignore the way her heart had risen to a nervous, stuttering tempo, she tossed the rest of the objects inside haphazardly before quietly shutting the cabinet door. Straightening, she anxiously smoothed out her royal gown before striding to the door, pausing to take one, two, three calming breaths. Once she felt her composure settle into place, she opened the door to find a maid standing before her, bowing as she came into view.

"Your Highness. I am sorry to interrupt, but the King has requested you in his study."

Zelda felt her hand twitch, but otherwise kept her face neutral. It surely wasn't related to any of this… No, she had been careful. He must have finished his meeting early; or perhaps he wished to see her about other matters altogether?

At least, she desperately hoped so.

Forcing a smile and a steady heart, Zelda stepped out into the bright afternoon sunlight. "Thank you. I will go to see him immediately."

The maid curtsied. "Of course, your Highness."

Closing the door of her study behind her, she turned and followed the maid as she retreated towards her bedroom, taking small, quiet breaths to quell her rising anxiety.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zelda raised her fist to knock sharply on the large double doors of her father's study, a slight tremble in her hand as her nervousness bled through her tenuous hold on it. She could only guess at what he wished to see her about, and that unsurety served to make her stomach knot more tightly. At no point in her life had any conversation where she had been summoned unexpectedly by her father been about something good. She felt particularly glad for Link's day off—she wasn't sure she would be able to keep her face neutral knowing he stood just beyond in the hall.

Her father's booming voice sounded through the thick, carved wood, beckoning her to enter. The guards on either side of the doors pushed them inward, and she crossed the threshold with her head held high though she felt far from confident.

Her father's study was large and cavernous; tall stone walls were draped in ornate tapestries, and cold stone floors lay covered in rich burgundy rugs. A group of four armchairs encircled a low table near the door, where she knew her father to meet with his closest advisers and ministers. Bookshelves lined the opposite wall, behind where her father's imposing figure was seated at a richly carved mahogany desk in the center of the room. He leaned back in his worn velvet chair, holding aloft a scroll which he reviewed absently as she approached, her footsteps muffled by the thick rug. She stopped short several feet in front of the imposing piece of furniture, taking a silent, steadying breath.

"You wished to see me, Father?"

With a last glance he eyed the scroll before rolling it back up and setting it lightly atop the desk. Then, he turned to her, eyes calm but unnervingly analytical.

"Yes. I just finished meeting with my advisers, and our topic of discussion—at least in part—is of concern to you. As you know, under normal circumstances we would be preparing to celebrate the Summertide in a few weeks, but in light of the recent monster attacks I had it called off some months ago."

Zelda nodded, feeling the tension bleed out of her and suppressing the urge to exhale a sigh of relief. This wasn't about her recent…escapades.

"My advisers feel that continuing with the Summertide Ball would perhaps be a better course of action—that keeping morale in the kingdom high is of priority right now, as the signs of Ganon's return increase—and carrying on with this tradition would be a good way to do that. In giving it some thought, I find I agree. I have therefore ordered the castle staff to begin preparations, and the ball will take place as it usually would on the first night of Summer. That being said, I will need you to put together a short speech to open the ball, as is your duty as Princess and keeper of the Goddess' power."

"I—yes, Father."

She was surprised by the news, especially given that the first day of summer was little more than two weeks away. It would be quite a task to put together in that time what traditionally was planned over months; but it was certainly doable if he put enough of the castle's resources to the task.

"If that is all you wished to see me about Father, I will take my leave to begin—"

"No, Zelda, that is not all."

The brief sense of calm she felt thinking her secret remained safe quickly dissipated. She knew that tone of voice…

"As you well know, these types of events are rife opportunities for gossip."

He paused, the silence in the room pregnant with disapproval and unspoken words. Leaning forward on his desk, he eyed her sharply. "It has come to my attention that you were not in the shrine this morning performing your prayers."

Zelda felt her mouth go dry. "I… no, I—"

"I told you in no uncertain terms that you need to be dedicating every moment you have to your training." His voice no longer held the clipped, business-like tone he'd used only moments ago; instead, it was now low and angry. "This morning was an opportunity to do so, and you did not. You are eighteen—an actionable and capable adult! But if you cannot conduct yourself with the seriousness required of this task, I will have no choice but to appoint one my advisers to watch over you and ensure your training is carried out as it ought. If you behave like a child, I will be forced to treat you like one."

Zelda felt her anger rising in addition to the hurt and fear that his coldness usually stoked when the subject of her training was discussed. As usual, ten long years of tireless dedication went unnoticed in his eyes simply because she had not yet been successful.

"I am doing all that I can… I have spent my entire life in prayer and it has not yielded results. I'm trying to find—"

"Enough!" his booming voice echoed loudly in the cavernous room as he rose from his chair, eyes narrowed in anger. Zelda felt herself recoil.

"Consider this your final warning," he said lowly, settling himself back in his seat. "The sacred texts say that prayer will unlock the Goddess' power, and so prayer is what you shall do. In the weeks leading up to the Summertide Ball, I expect you to maintain a rigorous routine of morning devotionals, afternoon prayer, and evening contemplation in full accordance with our traditions and customs. I will not give the gossip-mongers anything more to whisper about. Have I made myself clear?"

Zelda could feel her shoulders shaking from a combination of anger and fear; though she wasn't quite sure which she felt more of. She yearned to rise up against him—to shout and scream how unfair it all was, just as she wished to run away; but nothing would be accomplished by either. There was only one way she could respond—the way she was always forced to respond: submission.

"Yes, Father," she answered quietly, lowering her head to face the burgundy rug, cheeks burning.

Several beats of oppressive silence passed. Then:

"You are dismissed."

Without looking at him she turned, heading straight for the doors. She opened them listlessly, striding with as much put-on calm as she could dredge up through the hallway and back to her chamber. Before she had been summoned to her Father's office, she had decided her next best course of action would be to depart for prayer at the shrine. It seemed now that her own judgment and agency were no longer factors in that decision. Bitterness rose up within her like bile, but she made little effort to swallow it back.

Clenching her hands at her sides, she glared angrily at the carpet along which she tread. She would pray—just as she always prayed. And just as she always did, the Goddess would turn a deaf ear to her devotion. This was the vicious cycle she had been locked in since childhood—the cycle she was certain she would never escape. Between the callousness of her Father, her personal obligation to the kingdom, and the Goddess' stinging rejection to her desperate pleas, she felt as though she were drowning in failure and unmeetable obligation, with no way in which to act out against this karmic cruelty; no manner in which to assert herself.

Well… A wicked grin curled slowly at the edges of her down-turned lips as she took a left for the hallway leading to her bedroom. Perhaps there was one way.