In total, it amounted to three months of attending war cabinet meetings to make my presence known.

The first month spent shadowing the men with the decorative swords before running off to my uncle's room to make sense of their terms. At first it was intimidating, they paid their respects in short bows yet didn't acknowledge my being for the long duration of each gathering; ranging from two hours to an entire day. It was as if they were hoping if they hadn't looked at me, I would disappear into the background.

The room was a matter in itself. If a stranger to the castle had no prior knowledge and mistakenly walked in, its purpose would make itself known immediately. To glorify a place known as a war room would be as to what it was known as and was. It was a recessive area of the castle, tucked down underneath any luxuries I had come to know. Maids and servants were replaced with decorated officers and veterans. The doors were forbidden to remain propped open, even on the most humid of days, and nothing inside was ever to be divulged. This was the only hall of the castle untouched by renovation for it was the place where every war began, and every war ended. The war room was Hyrule's trigger.

Walls dripped in colors of ancient Hylian war paint; red, black, and gold. Weapons of all kinds were decorated, gilded within a frame. Their owners ranged from daring knights to heroes of old. In the center was a table that spanned the length of the room with intricate carving of legends, although on top was the most important piece. It mirrored an old map on the wall, but this one had black pawns to represent all potential threats. They stood like towers against the terrain with wooden carvings to imitate cavalry and foot-soldiers. Red pawns mirrored these dolls, which stood east of the Gerudo sands.

By the month end, I had every rank of command memorized and each division under each admiral written neatly in a leather-bound book.

It took two weeks for the admirals to meet my eye. The evenings were brimming with careful studies, and once Impa returned, I stole her sleep as well to fill in the gaps of political history that were closed off to me as a child.

Three weeks of my questioning went by until they recovered from the fact that a woman was speaking; an additional week before they had the gall to answer their high princess.

The creases under my eyes were deeper and a newly returned Anju complained about the amount of stress I was putting myself under, but – goddess – the feeling of autonomy was a welcome one. As far as royal propriety went, I was free to do what I pleased and choosing to be included was one I picked easily. Though, this newfound freedom came with its own restraints – its own guilt.

Father was becoming scarcer. With the making of amends between us, he drew more distraught over Uncle Nathaniel's decaying health. Rarely would I find him outside his bed chambers or his study. Soon, I was asked to bring food to his room, so much so that it became apart of my newfound routine. Most of the day was split between Uncle and his war cabinet. In some sense I was his liaison and he was my mentor. Though, I hoped desperately he would continue to be once he overcome this illness.

My evenings were visiting Father. Some days were better and he would change into proper clothes, others were darker and he hardly had the strength to get out of bed. The latter where I would eat supper in his room and watch over him, hoping he would finish his meal.

Tonight, I suspected, would pose to be darker.

Uncle's cough was raspy and guttural and his nurse withdrew the spoon of stew. Once it subsided, she fluffed the pillows that propped him up to a seat and scooped a spoonful again. I thumbed the pages of my book between my fingers, distracting myself with the rough texture.

Finally fed up with the doe eyes he was giving the women, I let out a noticeable sigh. "I don't understand it," I said once he looked away. Truly, the nurse was beautiful and at last he has found a woman to dote on that wasn't twenty years younger, but did this flirtation need occur with his niece present?

"Trust me, little one," his voice was weak and didn't carry the volume it once had, "If I knew my brother's mysteries… well, I dare to think I would solve the secret to life itself."

His light laugh sloped into a coughing fit.

"Dear Tressa," he put a light hand on the nurse's arm who smiled warmly at him. "Would you mind fetching me a bed warmer? I fear I will catch a chill."

She set the stew on his nightstand and excused herself. I took the chance to take her seat as he looked at me with a face that seemed a decade older than when I left the castle. My heart sunk with fear for him.

"You were but a child when your mother passed, and I suspect you took notice in your father's absence during that mourning period," he stopped to smooth out his night shirt as if it were his formal wear, "Rhoam is an intelligent man. He holds pride in his crown, as any king of this great country should, but there is a price to pride. Gold is as beautiful as it is blinding. It will confuse you when you lose focus and drag you down. His way of closing off is a form of this."

I sat with a strained expression that made him pressure me.

"Between your condition and, and Father's," irritation sank into my voice, "I feel this is my fault for leaving. Somehow… somehow a punishment of sorts."

He watched me fold my hands over themselves, "It is not."

Uncle Nathaniel waited until my hands stilled, "It is not because of you."

"But-!"

"I won't hear it," the sternness in his voice was not what a sick man would possess, and it silenced me. "What you did with that boy was invaluable, Zelda. Did you meet people?"

"Y-yes."

"Did you face struggles?"

"Yes."

"Did you have fun? Find beauty in your country? Find beauty in your people?"

My smile wobbled, "Yes. I did."

"Then your only regret should be that you hadn't been gone longer."

I nodded, folding my hands once more in my lap and leaving them.

We let silence fill in and he eventually sighed against his pillows, "It is more than Rhoam has done. You will find that every action in these suffocating walls have their own set of consequences. Without the right people around you-" Uncle stopped and lifted his brow at me, "The throne will pull a veil over your eyes.

"When Mariam died, it did just that. Grief subdued him and the whispers of his advisers wormed in. Fear of a calamity. Fear that he would lose not just a family, but a kingdom. With all the good intentions the priests had, they forced Rhoam to abandon values your mother upheld for him."

I pressed him, "What do you mean?"

"He was harder on preventing Hyrule's vulnerabilities from showing. Our pacts with neighboring regions were nullified in effort to create a semblance of self-sufficiency. With that created new problems that he didn't acknowledge," he hardened and swallowed dryly. I saw frustration in my uncle.

"The rural Gerudo tribes," I said suddenly, dread burrowed into me. "Father caused the food shortages."

My uncle's eyes left me, but a thin smile met him, "Yes. I remember, years ago when I traveled, going to the far reaches of the desert. The people there were kind, amiable. They saved me from dehydration at a small oasis they build their villages around. I was introduced to their culture, their norms." When he looked up, the smile gone. "Twenty years later I would be ordering the slaughter of their people."

A moment strained and I witnessed the anger in his eyes. Slowly, it devolved into remorse and then resolve. "Zelda," Uncle Nathaniel said, "These people are not primitive. Stereotypes be damned, every man who was there knows that."

"I-I was under the pretense that they were fanatics, that they-"

"They are a scorned and abandoned people. Try going hungry for months on end," he sighed, but his anger was present. "Seeing children shriveled up on the side of roads and passing mourning women. Hungry people grow desperate and whoever can bring comfort to that and create the confidence I saw on that sand…"

He grew quiet and looked on to the window where the sun was high. Somberly, he declared, "I fear such a man."

When the day drew to a close, I had surprisingly found Father in the parlor of his chambers. I returned his polite smile when I placed a plate of meat and vegetables before him and sat on the loveseat across from him. The hearth between us glowed warmth.

He bookmarked his novel and put it aside, "You've been busy today."

"I keep myself busy," I said, glancing up to him.

We ate in silence where he would make the occasional comment about the food and I would agree. Once we finished, I let him know about my day. It was something that I hadn't done for years and within the last couple months has become the norm. As happy as it made me, I wished it was born of different circumstances.

Another new routine between us was reading through requests, filtered by Impa the day before. I picked them up from the cushion beside me and began reading them to my father. He sat silently, sometimes asking me to make notes on responses.

"King Dorephan has written condolences for the general and sends his prayers," I said, going for the pencil.

"Write back saying great thanks and how we hope for the best," he paused, "Then give kind regards for the Zoran prince and princess."

When my writing stilled, I looked up to him. My fingers sealed the envelope with the letter inside to draw out a reply later when Impa was available. "Father," I started, "May I ask something that is out turn?"

My father blinked in surprise but nodded. "Please do."

"Why haven't you seen Uncle Nathaniel?"

There was a beat of quietness that settled as he thought, "Somehow, I suspected you would eventually ask me something to that effect." He readjusted in his seat and brought his hand to his beard. He breathed in slowly, then out like he did during stressed conferences. "I'm afraid for him."

I tilted my head in confusion and he took notice.

"The physicians keep saying that he will be on the mend in a matter of weeks. It's been almost four months, now," he frowned, in his words were distress. They grew taunt. "It is startlingly similar to what they said about Mariam."

At that, I looked away and to my skirts. "Oh."

"I know it's selfish. It's just… false hopes are more difficult to lose."

"Father," I shook my head. "I understand how you feel, but he asks about you often." I trailed off, trying to give voice to my feelings and shake off my old fears of overstepping. "I do love you very much and I perhaps if you saw him, it will lift your spirits as well as his."

The lines in his face were deeper than I remember, then he laughed a laugh that reminded me much of his brother. "Will it quell your worries if I see him at noon tomorrow?"

"Enough to stop me from pestering you further," I said, warmth growing in my chest at his smile.

"Very well then," Father glanced at the clock. "I trust you to look over the rest of those papers there for me, Zelda. I must retreat to my bed."

The warmth grew to the blossoming smile I tried to repress at his words. He trusted me.

"Thank you, Father."

Promptly, I bid him goodnight and once he was in his bedroom, I took leave as well. In my head, I ran through the list of notes he had given me, nearly running into a servant in the hallway.

"Your Highness, my deepest apologies," he said, bowing shortly.

"It's no matter, sir," I nodded politely.

"May I inquire if the king is in commission? Reports for him and the general have just arrived."

"I'm afraid he has retired for the evening," I replied lightly, "But I am working with him and his cabinet to alleviate the workload. I can take them off your hands."

As I stacked the ribbon tied pile of letters underneath my current load, a question took hold of the tip of my tongue, "Um, sir, does there happen to be anything requested to me?"

"Nothing for Her Highness. This is mostly correspondence with the front lines," the servant bid me a good evening and ran off with piles for the admirals. I stood there for a moment, disappointment ebbing. I carried on through the halls and heard no footsteps behind me. It wasn't as if I should have been expecting it, though it was the first time I had someone this month. Father had been somewhat right about how false hopes hurt.

I tried pushing the plaguing thoughts away, only for him to return to them. I wasn't foolish, I knew where my former knight attendant was. I took small notes when his unit was discussed in the war room. He couldn't be in immediate danger and I kept reminding myself that no war had been declared.

There would be war, though. Today the Gerudo aristocracy had requested reprieve at Hyrule Castle. Rebels were launching attacks on the borders of their capital and Hylian troops were mobilizing. They were proving to be more strategic than our opponents in the Uprising, leading the war cabinet to suppose that we were in for a far longer fight than ever before.

"By the goodness of Hylia, where did that come from," Impa said, ripping me from my worries. She stood outside my chambers and opened the door for me as I approached.

"The messengers from the desert had come in when I left Father," I laughed, somewhat incredulous myself. "And honestly with the state Uncle Nathaniel is in, I'd like to at least go through it for him."

Impa continued staring as we continued to the hearth of my bedroom. Pillows and cushions riddled the floor as well as a small coffee table to write on. I threw the stack on the bed and Impa pulled some of the ties to my dress so I could slip into something more suitable for the floor.

"That little maid will kill you if you're up for long," she chided, making me laugh once more.

"Yes, I do think she will."

We got to work quickly, reading through and sorting the parchments from level of importance. The most important meant that they needed to be answered and delivered first; for example, Father's letter from King Dorephan. The second level varied from requests for assets by noblemen to simple reports from officers; these didn't need immediate response and typically waited a day on this table. The third level was littered with letters that need no answer at all yet still could yield value to Father – or more commonly now, myself. It was incredibly monotonous, but it proved to be efficient.

"Chief Gor Coron wants King Rhoam's consideration to betroth you to his son," Impa mumbled. "Again."

I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh, "He's a very sweet boy, but he's also fifteen."

"Do you think it requires a reply from the Crown?"

"I vote for fourth pile."

"Fourth pile it is."

The fourth pile – the fire – was everything that His Majesty didn't need to mind at all.

I placed a letter a lord who couldn't gather an audience with the king into the second pile. Impa handed me the opener and announced she was going to chase down a kitchen maid for a strong pot of coffee. I had barely acknowledged her declaration by the time she had left. With the opener in one hand and the next envelope in the other, it slid across the paper cleanly. At least through this I got the pleasure of hearing the straight tearing of paper.

Absently, I wondered what time it was as I scanned the paper and stopped abruptly. The handwriting was scratchy and precise, resembling one that had been sitting under my mattress for months. My knees drew up to my chest from my relaxed seat.

General Nohansen,

In the hopes that this letter finds you well, I write to you my routine update of the state we're in.

Currently, we're stationed at the coordinates given by Admiral Fierlin the month prior. Gerudo Town is only ten leagues from our camp. My contacts within have alerted me that every tenth night there is some form of attack within public places on the outskirts of the city. Obviously, they are organized and deliberate. For weeks, at your request, I have pushed the Gerudo officials to request protected travel from their capital to our own…

The letter derailed into specific numbers about supplies and increasing men still arriving.

…Again, in regards of your health, we all pray to Hylia for your steady recovery. Until then, I'm at your disposal as usual.

Cpt. Forester

I read his letter thrice before putting it down.

Mechanically, I let it fall into the second pile so that I would remember to share it with Uncle the next day. For whatever reason, it hurt worse each time I read it. I knew Elian had delivered my letter. He was at the castle last month, doubling for a messenger. Goddesses, I had spoken to him and asked if he had. Even then, my heart pleaded that he hadn't. Surely, because Link would have written back.

Maybe… I was misled.

Impa opened the door with a maid in tow. She placed a tray of coffee on the table beside the mess of papers, poured the pot of coffee in two cups and quietly left. The older woman sighed, sitting cross legged on the pillows before taking a sit. As she did, she watched my silence to the letter sitting neatly at the top of the pile.

She swallowed the bitter liquid, "Zelda."

My heart tried to steer my mind. "Yes?"

"You're upset."

I went to shake my head, "No—I." I laughed quickly to cover my uneven breath, "I'm simply tired."

My hands went for a new envelope and the letter opener. Impa repeated my name.

The curved blade of the opener missed the slip of the envelope, making me curse to myself until it made it in. He hadn't even referenced me. Inelegantly, I retched it upward. The tear ended halfway down the envelope and hands stilled my own at my wrists.

"Zelda!" she said, carefully taking the letter opener from me. By then, I was reduced to shuddering gasps and spilling tears against her. "Af… after everthing-" A wail that fell to a sob escaped, "Three months of… of nothing!"

Nothing of his condition or his whereabouts. How many letters has he bothered to send while I waiting patiently for anything from him? What has changed so drastically? I wasn't so dull to forget that at the end of the day he had a job – we both did! Still, it didn't stop me from thinking about him at night. It hadn't not worried me when his commanding admiral made passing comments of bomb threats. The feelings I had thought we shared were still present and very much alive in my heart.

Then, in other bouts of his silence, it made me irrevocably angry. After all, he had left.

And, perhaps, that was it. That was all there was to it. The note he left at the inn had no remarks about wanting me to write to him. There was nothing to be said about wanting to see me again, not in the way I wanted to see him.

We sat there as she smoothed out my hair and whispered my name among shushes. It could have been hours or the entire night, but eventually I came to. Exhaustion overtook me and I slumped in my seat. Impa pulled away, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind my ear.

"I know you are grieving for much right now," she said, "but you cannot lose sight. Whatever… whatever transpired between you two – I won't inquire." Impa looked forlornly at me with ruby eyes, "You should understand that what happened in your reprieve from the castle mustn't continue."

My stomach dropped at the thought. I saw his face from the inn, one of longing and regret. The feeling of heated cheeks when he'd look at me. His smile at my silly comments. I saw my ring in his hand and the resolve in his eyes and the callous of his fingers. The tender needs of a man who could put up a stone front so convincing that you'd thing he had lived his entire life without speaking a word and break it down just as easy – just for me.

Then, I saw the letter addressed to the general.

"With your coming of age and the current state of the Crown, Zelda," she pulled my attention again. "You should consider the possibility of assuming the role of acting Queen of Hyrule."

I sat quietly, neither confirming or negating her. It had been a thought that seemed more imaginary than plausible, but now Impa gave it life. Six months ago, I would have laughed at the notion and chalked it up to an implausible prediction; now it felt startling.

"I have," I sniffed, brushing my wet cheek with my nightgown sleeve. "If my country needs me, I will not run from it."