Hyrule flooded the day Nathaniel Nohansen III died.

It had rained for three days. Castle Town had closed its shops and barely no one walked the streets. The storms were so harsh that it was hardly a premonition when they told me he was deteriorating quickly. I found him in his bed as he had been for months. Soft cries of my father filled the silence as he knelt at the bedside and grasped a limp hand in his own. Guilt twisted deep in my stomach when tears didn't come.

"I'm so sorry, Nate," Father sobbed. The words hardly intelligible. "I'm sorry."

For months I had mourned for this moment. When he stopped responding to questions almost two weeks ago, my heart knew that this journey would have a finite end. In the very least, my father had some time to step out from his veil of ignorance before now.

Gods. No matter how much I tried to will myself to cry, I couldn't.

I hadn't thought about death so much in my life. When before it was a quiet promise of my youthful failures, now it was staring me down at every corner. These coming days, I thought of it as a fear that had become a flirtatious caller. War walked hand-in-hand with death. They were synonymous actions I had come to expect; violence paired with the spilling of blood.

Presently, it came to me as an eerily familiar vessel of a man I adored, sleeping forever. It was as if a trickster had carefully sculpted a copy of my uncle from wax and stole the real one away. There was no grave injury or pooling blood, just the deep feeling that something was horribly wrong. The blood in my veins ran cold and suddenly I could hardly bear to so much as glance at it – that wasn't my uncle. Never had been after his eyes no longer smiled and his casual flirting with his nurse ceased.

Numbly, I pulled my hand from Father's shoulder. His cries subdued to soft sniffling pleas for his older brother to wake up. I softly pried him away, but he didn't give much resistance in the first place. As we walked away, I barely heard Father's voice.

"I love you. So much."

The body wouldn't speak back because its wrinkles were far too sunken and its hands far too still. The silence behind us as we walked towards the door was deafening.

"I love you too," I said, but his words weren't for me.

"Your Majesty," a servant said, breaking me from a far-off stare. "The coroner mentioned that the ground was too soft to bury General Nohansen this week."

Cold hands. Cold eyes.

Impa cut through, stepping between my desk and the man with a series of hushed mentions that made the servant satisfied enough to leave. Lightning struck in the distance and lit up the study through the uncovered window. Soberly, she turned to me with a white swinging braid.

"Allow me to handle the funeral."

I went to shake my head. "I feel like I should do it myself."

Her eyes pried into me, making me meet them no matter how badly I didn't want to. Impa stood with square shoulders, appearing so tall even when she barely reached my shoulder. Then, she softened with folded hands before her. I knew what she was insinuating: I sounded like my father.

A chill slithered up my spine. It caused me to fold and fear engaged me.

"What else am I to do?" I pleaded. The careful guard I had unknowingly constructed was being chipped away by intrusive thoughts. For the remaining years of my life, there will never be a grin as toothy as his. My arms will never be swept up in such a warm embrace for as long as my heart is still beating. No laugh was as baritone as his once was; capable of escaping even the thickest walls.

Nothing, nothing, nothing could compete with the man who died without meaning.

Suddenly, my cheeks were wet and my bottom lip trembled unrelentingly. I stared up at the rafters, hoping the sniffling would subside as I cursed aloud, "I can't even give him solid ground to rest under."

"Listen to me," Impa whispered, pulling me into her bosom. "Listen to me, child. He is with the goddesses."

She repeated it like a mantra.

"I hate this," I withered and folded into her arms. "I hate feeling so weak."

The tears were bitter now, stinging me with their presence and making my throat burn with abandon. I was the Queen.

Legally, I thought to myself, I had all claim to everything around me. I knew that my predecessors had wielded their power to dominate entire kingdoms from the peaks of the northern mountains to the shores of the south. They had brought about bloodshed and dominion to people for reasons as little as wanting to feel the warmth of their burning villages. Only two generations before me had sent their dissenting opposition to the gallows.

So, why was it that I felt so powerless?

"Do you know why the goddess Hylia descended?" Impa hushed. "Why did She leave the comfort of the heavens?"

I tamed myself to calm, though my voice was still odd and gravelly. "Because she loved a man."

A maternal hand patted my head and she spoke through a smile.

"No," she started. "No, because She loved the people created by Her hand. When She heard of the dangers coming from the underworld and how a king born of shadows was laying claim to land Hylia's sisters had left Her, She had a choice."

Impa sat back on the floor, taking my hand in hers like how she did when she recalled to me old myths before bedtime. I swallowed and waited for her to continue.

"Hylia could stay in paradise and allow the world to be buried," she said, framing the choices as if she didn't know how it would end. "Or She could descend and give Her people a fighting chance – no matter how slim it was. What do you think She chose, Zelda?"

"She chose to fight."

"Very good."

She procured a handkerchief from her breast pocket and allowed me to dry my cheeks.

"So," Impa drew me in again after a couple minutes. "As we know, the goddess spent years on the Surface fighting off the darkness. She rallied Her people to find hope in the darkness and for that, they revered her only more so. For years, some say decades, Hylia lived among mortals and learned their ways. In Her time, She found that gods do not experience existence the same as humanity does.

"When the mortals experienced disappointment, their eyes grew watery. With fatigue, they grew sluggish and weary – sometimes lashing out at loved ones. When they accomplished success in battle, broad expressions crossed their faces," she mirrored my small smile, "and oftentimes they laughed. They say Hylia enjoyed seeing that emotion the most.

"Eventually She found herself partaking in these feelings and paralleling those expressions She had once considered redundant. Her love for these mortals had only increased since She descended. However, their battles were hard-fought and even with Her light, they had only been able to maintain their ground. That is, until one day the spirit of Her holy sword told Her another was worthy enough to wield it. His name is lost to time, but the books say he was a valiant solider. In him, Hylia found a partner; the ability to feel another triviality that suddenly wasn't so trivial."

Impa's smile was sad and she grasped my hands tightly in hers. "That was when She learned to love a mortal man. You and I know how this ends."

"He dies," I answer for her with a thick voice.

"And when he dies, She is taught that there is danger in love's beauty. Born from his death was grief, an emotion so strong the goddess feels She will die. Hylia, the goddess of light and mother to all, realizes that the mortals around Her had been experiencing this for all Her years on the Surface. In that, She grieves more because how could She be so blind to this pain?"

I had let myself slack again the back of my chair and stared at the embroidery of my skirt. When she stopped talking, I thought aloud. "Was it worth it?"

"We are alive today because of it. I think Hylia knew that even though it would be centuries, She would see him again after life settled and after Demise was properly sealed. Similar to when we will see our loved ones when we pass on, however I do pray that we have many more years before that day," she allowed a light chuckle.

"Yes," I laughed with a small sniffle, "I think Uncle will be very cross if I follow him too early."

"Now then," she pulled me from my chair and walked me to the door. "Let's get you to your room. You deserve rest after today and the weather is perfect to lull you asleep. When you wake, we'll have your favorite tea and cake."

"It will be an uphill battle," Whitehurst sniffed, reading through a copy of the report sent from.

It had been a week since Uncle died and I hated the feeling of wasting time. Finally sitting with a couple advisors with a fresh stack of news felt worlds away from where I once was.

I agreed with Admiral Whitehurst, combing over the words once more. The rebels had declared the Gerudo capital as their own and announced that the aristocracy have been puppets to topple the purity of Gerudo traditions. The handwriting was distracting, but I ignored the repeated leaps in my chest and thumbed the unopened letter in my lap.

"They call us heretics of the true gods," I rose from my propped hand with a sigh. "And then attempt another strike on our food supplies meant for starving infants. Urbosa, am I misunderstanding?"

She breathed in and rubbed the soreness in her neck. "It seems to me that from their threats to Link that they don't consider us their people and would prefer dead children whose parents refuse their preaching."

Whitehurst was still wary of the aristocrat and peered from across the table. "Who are their gods? Do they reject our goddess?"

"Partially," she said. "They ascribe to the ancient three. Whereas we see Hylia as being the guardian goddess left to protect their creation, they see her as a usurper – ironically.

"Traditional creation story dictates that Hylia took advantage of the original three's absence and bore Hylians as her minions to take over the world. The guardians of the sand fought back, baring a people that would be called Gerudo. A champion rose among them and found the Triforce. He used that power to save his people. That's what I was told as a child."

The Admiral wrinkled his nose. "How dubious."

"It's fragmented across villages. Most Gerudo in the capital worship money more than religion," she shrugged, barely taking mind in the man. "Allow us to remember that this was a tactic in the early wars to turn people away from Hylian culture."

Whitehurst nodded, somewhat perturbed. "What does Her Majesty call for?"

I hummed in thought. There were twenty causalities in the one hundred that accompanied the supplies. Out of those casualties were two deaths.

"It seems like the plan to send reinforcements along with reserves was the go-to," I asserted. "I would like to refer to you to increase the amount of food three-fold. Impa believes levying taxes with grain farming territories would motivate morale."

The Admiral stood with a stack of papers and nodded, "I'll draw up the order."

The letter burned a hole through my skirts and I couldn't help looking down. The report was addressed to my full title, but between the pages of reports was a smaller envelope that simply read: Zelda.

"Riju has sent her regards to you. She says she is saddened to hear of Nathaniel's passing. I would let you read it, but she has difficulties writing in Hylian," Urbosa said, folding up the paper with Riju's signature on it and setting it aside. "Truly, Zelda, let me know if you need me in any way."

"You say that as if you haven't comforted me for several nights already," I smiled, negating her.

"My people grieve as a community. The commonplace of isolating oneself is considered unhealthy, while here it is almost expected."

The way she crossed her legs billowed her Hylian skirts out as if she were wearing a Gerudo sirwal. I could tell it made Admiral Whitehurst uncomfortable earlier and the thought made me laugh.

"You aren't wrong. If we weren't in the middle of war, the court would have expected a three-month mourning period from me," I only shrugged off the notion, tidying up my papers and setting Link's letter on top. "I simply cannot afford it right now."

Especially when the rebels were proving to be more organized than we thought. Encampments were appearing in the East Barrens with foreign flags. Not long after they were discovered the heads of three Hylian spies were found not far from the road leading into Gerudo Town. As of now, we had no way of telling if their strength or numbers.

The woman nodded. "And you have other distractions."

"I," I paused, momentarily bewildered by her expression. "I beg your pardon?"

"Distractions, my dove," she laughed, lifting a hand to lazily gesture at what was before me.

Warmth bloomed on my face as I snatched the letter from her prying eyes. Urbosa only laughed heartily, "I cannot help but recognize that that hand matches the one who scrawled your reports."

She let my embarrassment fester a moment longer. "Oh, don't worry," she leered. "I never said it wasn't a good distraction."

"Urbosa. I don't know what you're thinking, but this is not a regular occurrence."

"Everyone has a right to hold secrets."

"This isn't a secret!" I bristled with wide eyes. "It's a personal correspondence."

Understanding was on her face but amusement danced in her eyes, a light I was all too accustomed to. "I see, with a man you had a short 'engagement' with before he left for war."

"Engagement," I blanched, "Engagement?! There was no engagement about that night, I've told you the extent of it!"

"Ah," she closed her eyes, reminiscing. "I remember the first Hylian who followed me around like a dog. I was about Riju's age – maybe a little older – when we snuck into the stables and she-"

The door to my office opened and a servant slipped through. He cleared his throat, "Announcing the esteemed Rito-"

"No, no, no," a demanding voice cut through and in the doorway came a face Zelda hadn't seen in many months. "We've rehearsed this," the midnight blue Rito chastised, "The esteemed Ambassador. Yes, that is who I am. My title. Ordained by your King. It really, truly isn't that hard."

He carried on in subdued whispers while the poor man stood awkwardly by the doorway.

"Revali," I called out. Then again when he was too engrossed in his discussion. "Why are you accosting my squire?"

"Accosting?" he primed, finally pulled away. The man scuttled back through the doorway and quietly shut it behind him. "Zelda – first of all, I will take the liberty of saying hello first – I'm not sure whether it has always been this way or if it's the product of your reign, but these butlers of yours aren't acknowledging my status and frankly? I'm shocked and perhaps a little appalled at the sight."

"She is your sovereign and you will regard him as such," Urbosa asserted, her tone commanding with an earthy undertone that took up the room.

Revali puffed out his chest, looking between her and I with admonishment.

I cleared my throat, "If you've just arrived, perhaps you're exhausted. I can lead you to a room. I would have met you at the door, but we were expecting you tomorrow."

"No, no, your Royal Majesty," the Rito seethed, staring at Urbosa as he bowed with sweeping wings.

Some things, or Ritos rather, never changed. Revali had been the Rito ambassador at Hyrule castle for about three years now. Unlike other ambassadors, he preferred his home outside of Rito Village over staying at the castle full-time. However, Father had always kept that group at arm's length, so it suited both parties up until now.

I was familiar with him and his disposition with the short interactions we've had. He was the son of wealthy traders and had no problem entering the realm of politics. The Rito people were bold, some would classify their pride as arrogance; those that did hadn't met Revali.

He nodded my way as he pulled out a seat next to Urbosa. "May I?"

Neither of us could speak before he sat down leisurely.

"I see there have been many changes since I've graced these halls," he said, touching the tips of his fingers together and took full advantage of the chair's seat. "Yet I haven't a signal update from the Crown!"

"I have sent reports of our decisions to Chief Kaneli when he sent his official recognition that I was Queen."

Dramatics abound, he turned to Urbosa. "Is it not my job to relay these matters to my leader? Regale to me, my Queen, how I am to perform my duty."

"I have seen nothing from you until I called for your presence last week, Ambassador Revali," I straightened and sent him a pointed look. "And I'm willing to take much from you because I value our connection, but do not think for a second that I will willingly take commands from you. I am not my father and will not entertain your abuses because unlike him, they do not amuse me whatsoever."

His beak fell open, but no words came out. This time he didn't bear a glance at Urbosa, whose smug look made me stifle a grin. I didn't get that tone from thin air. The gap of silence was the longest I had ever heard in the vicinity of this man.

Revali coughed into his fist and awkwardly shifted in his seat. "I see that my words have been misconstrued. I did not mean offense."

"I accept your apology."

"Yes, well, to lead into my concerns – which are very justified, mind you – my deepest condolences for the loss of General Nohansen. Even our great airmen are deeply saddened," he bowed his head, a pivot from the dominant air of before.

I offered a subdued smile.

"And your replacement doesn't seem awful, but I hadn't heard that you were looking to fill the position so soon."

Urbosa tilted her head. "We are in a war. I'm not sure if you heard about my people being persecuted."

"Yes, yes, yes. Of course I have heard of the mad man. Gerudo women are already masculine enough. Maybe the roles have reversed, and he will be easily squashed."

I rested my head in my hand and sighed, "No. Much of the opposite it seems."

The Rito held an indignant look as he examined the tip of his feathers. "Seems my services were much in need," he mumbled.

"Pardon me?" I asked. Was he expecting an invitation to be considered?

Oh, actually, that sounds very in character for him.

"All I'm saying is that it was a statement sent from Her Majesty to me," Revali emphasized with splayed fingers.

I glanced to Urbosa who was glaring daggers at the Rito. I clasped my hands together in front of me, "I promise you that no offense was meant, Ambassador. Truly, the process of filling the position of Commanding General of Hyrule's Royal Army was tumultuous."

Revali leaned back with a stiff shrug and crossed his legs, then immediately uncross them to vehemently point his feathered finger at the ceiling. "Make no mistake! No offense was taken on my part. Zero offense because I would have merely turned down the offer in the first place because my title as the Rito Ambassador is already time consuming. Incredibly. Unmatched, even, across of the board."

"Oh," I blinked. "I'm glad that you see it that way."

The man huffed, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his right wing. "Indeed."

"Zelda, I don't think we should keep this from him."

I turned to Urbosa, confusion written on my face.

"Don't act coy. We can tell him," she motioned towards Revali with a sweeping gesture. "Tell him how he was considered and how his resourcefulness would be better used elsewhere in the conflict."

He chirped up and stared at me with wide eyes. I quickly nodded and masked any dubious expression.

"Oh, yes," I piped up. "Your name was thrown into the mix several times by my cabinet."

"It-it was?"

"Absolutely, Revali. You've been an incredibly valuable asset to Hyrule. Your years of service haven't gone unrecognized, nor your training as a Rito airman. Such a wide variety of-" I tripped over a couple thoughts, looking for the right words.

Urbosa offered, "Skills?"

"Yes – thank you – such a wide variety of skills can't be boiled down to 'General'."

Revali seemed to consider this greatly, rubbing his neck in thought. "Well," he rasped. "Well, that I can understand. After all, Commanding General is largely a decorative title…"

"I wouldn't necessarily go that far," I muttered half of the sentence into my hand with a look at Urbosa. Ambassador Revali nodded affirmations to himself as he stared holes into the carpet.

"May I ask, Your Majesty," he said, looking up finally. "What were your plans for me?"

I sat up in my seat and thumbed an ink quill in my hands. The feeling of opportunity rose in my chest with robust hope easing into my heart.

"I would like to inquire in your people's support in defending fellow Hyruleans."

He sat up with me, towards the edge of his seat.

"You mean to assert that you want additional support."

"I do," I said, feeling the pointed tip of the quill dig into my thumb. "The Rito and Hylian people used have strong bonds in meat trading. I wish to bridge the gap in the years our agreements fell through; even strengthen them more than what they once were."

Revali seemed intrigued. "Under what pretense?"

"There's no pretense," I smiled, "I think we can both agree that Rito airmen are incredibly prolific through military history. Chief Kaneli's support, no matter how little is, would be a great honor and assist our efforts in preserving the Gerudo aristocracy."

"I can't refute that," he nodded. "I can say that Kaneli holds Her Majesty in the highest regard and has great hope for your reign… however our recent history has him wary. It will take some convincing."

"I understand completely. If anything, do I have the Rito Ambassador's support?"

He breathed a dramatic sigh. "Yes, I suppose you do."

After meeting behind meeting, I snuck behind a rose bush in the gardens. The light was dying, but I couldn't wait anymore. Wedged between the pages of my notebook was the small letter from before. It was no bigger than my hand and I took care to rip the wax-sealed seam.

Zelda,

I'm sorry this took so long to write.

A smile was already brimming my lips and I mouthed: Don't be.

There was an attempted ambush as we passed Satori Mountain. Byron's scouts spied them first and they were dispatched early on, but you should know this long before this letter reaches you. The supply line-

The last couple words were neatly crossed out.

I don't know why I want to give you a report when you've most likely already read the one I've already written you. It's been on my mind too much, but so have you. I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer that morning and I'm sorry I couldn't have been there when Nathaniel passed.

There's so much I wanted to tell you before I left. Being alone with my thoughts while we traveled only added to that. I could write one hundred apologies about asking you to forget about us and then dredging it up again. One hundred more if the nights between left you just as distraught as I was. It's hard for me to speak about my feelings and when it comes down to it – pretending they don't exist is what I usually resort to.

I couldn't do that with you. I care about you. I tried to convince myself I didn't, hadn't, and I failed miserably; only making it more known to myself how helpless you've made me.

And despite everything, I hope you're smiling when you're reading this because the selfish thought keeps me from ending this letter. I want to talk to you as I do this paper and hear your witty remarks that are far too intelligent for your own good. The same intelligence that I am convinced will end this conflict far sooner than I anticipate so I can see you again.

But I'm rambling.

I'm safe. The only casualty on the road was a lad with a twisted ankle. I did run into the boys from Hateno. Do you remember Mac and Toma Ratliff? They thought it was a prank when someone mention "General" in front of my name and got written up for insubordination.

Nonetheless, Zelda, I will wait for you.

Yours,

Link