A/N: Hey there, thank you so much for reading this far. I wanted to get this one out before I undid it and made it worse (or better? Hard to say). My husband liked the idea of Link getting surgery done on a grimy bench in a dirty stable, and we decided that we wanted to spend more time with the aesthetic.

A sincere thank you to ASL D Brothers, Angelous100, Dwightstuff94, TechnicalJoker, and somewhat intriguing. Really appreciate you all following the story - as well as those who have favorited the story. I'm hoping you guys stick around for a while and/or reach out. Laserlight, I saw your comment on my email about three days before it actually posted - so glad it finally got there. It brought me a lot of joy, thank you! LINDINI200, hello again! Thank you again for another review! So glad the chaos is translating. I can't imagine Link being in a great mental shape. But, I'm hoping to make his life a bit happier in the slice of life formatting. Angelous100, thank you for your review! I appreciate your feedback. I look forward to getting you more chapters.

Have a great rest of your night!

Chapter Four

Link slept and slept - his hair undone, a true halo around his head.

Every so often did he wake and scan the room for the Princess. Only then would Zelda sit up from her task - whether it was darning or some other assignment she had asked for from Leekah. She'd wave; he'd find her gaze, although dream-gripped. He'd rub his eyes, but then the weight of sleep had him falling back down into his pillow for another five hours or so. But if Zelda made a loud enough fuss by stumbling out of her seat or calling out to the front, then Missus Leekah would hear her above the pounding rain. And the woman, seeing Link stir, would ladle out a bowl of hot stew and carry it through the maze of buckets. Although the leaky ceiling let in the musk of petrichor, Link could still smell the savory spices; he'd lift his head up as the soup approached; Leekah helped him sit forward; he'd wolf down the food before passing out once more.

"T-Thank you," he'd murmur. Zelda covered him in sheets again. Then, Leekah would leave to attend to new guests seeking shelter from the rain.

"P-Princess?" He'd whisper, "T-The Sheikah?"

"Not yet, Link. I think the rain is slowing them down. B-But, a-all is well."

He'd look puzzled. But, before he could say anything, he'd collapsed back down into the sheets.

Zelda tried not to stare. Yet, the intensity of their reunion swayed her judgment. Lying before her was the target of her century-long hyperfocus. Her longing. Her frozen dream. And before the century, he had been her first friend - though perhaps he never thought of her as such. Was he allowed to think of himself as her friend? Even Impa, her confidant and advisor, could not assume herself so quintessential even though Zelda loved her as a best friend. She'd have her over for tea, laugh about blips in Zelda's day-to-day life, and enthuse about books and studies. But, Zelda could feel the distance in their interactions. She once asked, 'And, how are you doing, Impa?" The woman had a painstakingly full schedule, researching policies and attending each royal meeting. Zelda wanted to comfort the woman, but upon asking, she saw Impa's confidence once again falter, as if the Princess had broken an unspoken rule. 'Fine, fine,' she'd say with a whip of her hand, 'But we should focus on your upcoming appearance to the public, Princess."

You see, Impa was bound to be a helper to the Infamous Princess of Hyrule, as were the cooks, the maids, and the resident scientists. Never could they impose or complain or cry over things, trivial or grave. So, Zelda could never reciprocate their help or encourage them. And her attempts to do so then invalidated their performance and jeopardized their roles at the castle. So, if Zelda wanted to fall in line with Kingdom expectations, then she could not reach out to anyone. And no one could really reach in - even when people protested her incompetence. Her powers were asleep, and their yelling could not change that!

Yet, the assignment of the champions changed everything. As they visited the castle, Zelda's schedules filled themselves with time allotted to each of them. Over tea, Zelda ran through Van Ruta's blueprints with Mipha, yet their discussions always took a different shape when everything was said and done. Zelda never knew how to carry on with topics, but thankfully, Mipha supplied it all - musing about Hylia's rivers and family and love. When Urbosa was in, the Gerudo would content herself in the sitting parlor of Zelda's room, ignoring the long list of tasks so that she may sit down with Zelda and check up on her. Only then could Zelda pretend she had a mother again. Believe it or not, Zelda was even assigned to watch Revali's public target practices. It was a military event for most privileged guards and nobility. Zelda even had her own tent, though she came into each session hoping to be a fly on the wall. Nonetheless, it made her feel so special when Rito lowered his bow and publicly dedicated the next shot to her. And who could forget Daruk's lively visits? The military loved him - eating challenges galore! Everywhere he went was a bumbling mess of jubilee. When he was in, Zelda spent her limited free time being a part of their community.

Nonetheless, Zelda harbored a forbidden love for the champions. They were the closest friends she'd ever get; so secretly (emotionally), Zelda latched onto them like a distressed child running up to the closest adults. And when Link came - oh, Zelda did not like to think about that time. Long story short, she became cruel in the name of protecting her microcosm of safety. Link represented the outside, the icon of her impossible mission, the judgment of her Father. Funny, he was still so kind to her - unassuming and loyal, always giving her the benefit of the doubt. And when the time came, he even-lowered his walls to speak honestly with her. The Hero of Time struggled with loneliness and swallowed it all up for the sake of the Kingdom. They had been riding side-by-side the moment he admitted it. The wind pulled his hair back; he crinkled his brow; he bowed his head in reverence to the secret pain.

Never had Zelda seen someone so similar to her - like looking through a mirror. Through the thin glass, Zelda felt the weight on his shoulders - for it was crushing her too. Could she help him lift such a burden?

There in that stable, love and friendship made her heart swell and writhe with love and loss. And during that first day where Link was asleep, she kept imagining all five of her friends laid out in the beds beside Link - Impa, Urbosa, Mipha, Revali, and Daruk (if he would fit). In that deep, longing fantasy, Zelda was without pain; she was pushing her body and soul to attend to them. She was free to feed them stew, hold a glass of water as they drank, and wrap them in blankets while they slept. They'd reject her most definitely. But, she would not care. She'd toss the crown aside, get on her knees, and wash even their feet.

But alas, they only lived in a fantasy.

Because the beds before her were filled with strangers.

And the champions - they were dead.

And all that was left was Link, lying there. Always when sleeping would he reach out for his pillow and coddle it against his chest. And sitting on her bed, Zelda witnessed the precious sign of life happening right before her - breath filling his lungs, the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest as he slept and slept.

Reality was cruel - but at least it was real.

Nothing felt more real (yet pleasant) than the thick stench of horsehair.

She let her senses ground her this precious reality - she was at an inn, not in a beast. She was among people, not drowning in darkness and rage and malice. No, men and women were talking and laughing. And Zelda couldn't help but listen to all the conversations happening all at once beneath the canopy. Every bed was taken by an elder or mother. And in the covers, the majority of women were breastfeeding. A cluster of them chatted about their babies (and in hushed tones) giggled about where they were conceived. Their husbands - or at least, what Zelda assumed to be their husbands, but perhaps that was old-fashioned now. Regardless, the husbands congregated around the fireplace where Mister Lawdon had chopped up Link's bloody bench for emergency firewood. Back and forth, men passed liqueur and beer. Around them, merchants and travelers sat among leak buckets. They formed circles and traded back and forth—fish for cheese, milk for arrows, horseshoes for potions.

She eyed the dusty and shine of their wares.

Everything was so real.

According to Missus Lawdon, the storm would last about three days. Enough travelers had seen its expanse, ranging from the edge of Gerudo to cliffs of Kakariko. What a weather change - and in the middle of summer? The clouds just flooded out from Lanayru? Perhaps, the Goddesses were ready to drown the world again.

Poor Gen - the old local of the inn had been drenched for a day before coming under their roof. Thankfully one of the simpletons gave up his bed for the elderly man. But, her inn could not run on pure kindness. No, they were already five beds short, and if this storm continued as planned, they would get at least three to five more customers. Leekah, writing down notes on a page, reminded herself to set out extra hay and linens in case people became desperate. Call it a budget bed? Charge them ten rupees? Perfect!

The blonde bombshell in the far corner kept trying to give up her bed - that was an option in case someone came in ill or, goddess-forbid, bleeding again. However, Lawdon was right in instructing her to keep her sleeping arrangement. But, it seemed like the woman never slept. Funny, she instead confined herself to the chair beside the sleeping boy.

What an interesting case they were. The girl in the satin gown, boy with a horrible gash that oozed and bubbled. Surely, they were a riddle for the mind. And although her husband had warned her from snooping (she would do no such thing), Leekah could not help herself from guessing… estimating… gossiping. So, Leekah considered the singed ends on her dress, the Old World's emblem on his sword, and the incredulous look on their faces whenever they spoke to each other - not that there was much time for that. The boy was out cold off and on for two days now.

Closing her curtains, Leekah fitted herself in her regal trove and fabricated their story. They looked similar - both blondies? - but the anxious distance between them crossed out her sibling theory. And the woman seemed too forward for that - unless she was the protective older sibling or in love with her brother. But incest never made a good story - especially out here in the frontier where everyone avoided the stereotype like the plague. However, they looked the same age, give or take a year or two - perhaps not siblings. And, he certainly didn't look at her like he would a sister - all nervous and blushy. Poor boy, laughed Leekah, not knowing how to talk to a pretty girl.

T'was a shame - Leekah knew at least three men looking for wives like her. Their larger-than-life expectations would have finally paid off—unlucky fools.

No, to Leekah, this was definitely a bodyguard situation. With that dress and thousand-rupees-of-a-message, she was a woman of wealth - perhaps from Hateno. Hateno Hylians were the wealthiest (by Calamity standards, that is) with their high walls at the Fort. Pompous devils, locking everyone out so they could live freely without monsters and thieves. Regardless, the lady must be from an old family there. Maybe she was a member from the ancient nobility - of course, if they were still out there. As for her parents, they must have hired a bodyguard for the trip to… to visit a cousin? But what wealthy cousin would be hiding out here in the fields? Maybe they were heading for the Hylian colony in Hebra? Still, why travel in a dress?

Oh! Leekah slapped her knee. Of course! He had crashed her own wedding! The bodyguard stole her for his own! Yes, that explained the white gown! Oh, she commended herself, everyone loves the tale of the rich Hateno girl breaking away from the stuffy Hateno society to run away with her handsome help! - all shy yet protective. He was on the shorter side, but Leekah didn't care. He must have proven his worth by dashing in front of a monster to save her or something. What a tale! Such a story would make Leekah's sister swoon when she visited next week. She'd tell her about the dress, the gash, the sword, and Lawdon's heroic surgery.

But one thing didn't factor into the story. The woman had terrible nightmares. She didn't sleep the first night, avoided bed that morning, and woke up yelling that next night.

An abusive engagement?

Troublesome childhood?

Hopefully, the rain would stop so the lady could get outside again.

Loud cheering stirred Link from his sleep. Was it morning? He jolted from his covers and peered over at the chair beside him - though it was empty. He jumped awake, thinking a million thoughts a minute. Sweat beaded at his brow, his heart thumped, his wound seared as he tried to get up - but, no matter, he needed to make sure the Princess was secure. Who was he to just fall asleep? They were so exposed! Were the Sheikah nearby? Had he slept for too long? But, before he could beat himself up, he caught sight of the Princess. And his whole body relaxed. For, she was with Missus Lawdon in the center of the dormitory.

"Don't do it, blondie." Someone said - to the Princess?

Princess Zelda, covered in a fringed shawl, sat crisscrossed beside the stable keeper's wife in a circle of five people. Leak buckets and busybodies loitered over the group. Some peered over the Princess's shoulder and giggled. In her hand was one card - a pile of others gathered before her. Her other hand danced nervously on the wooden floorboard by her foot. Was this a card game? Was the Princess of Hyrule… playing cards?

Surely enough, she stared deeply into her hand and followed Missus Lawdon's turn by placing down what looked like?... The Queen of Spades? Suddenly, the women behind her went wild. The burly man across for her tossed his cards. Another walked away. And the Princess faltered with a look of guilt as Missus Lawdon shoved another round of card's her way.

"What the hell?"

The stablemaster's son dropped to his knees to count the Princess's cards.

"Where'd you learn to play like that, Missy?"

"She damn shot the moon!" Called another, tossing his cards.

"And I just thought she was as lousy as Jo over there!"

"Hey!" Jo protested, "It's my first time playing."

Another man tossed his cards, "Leekah! You bringing in another girl to hustle us?"

"I-I'm," Zelda stammered, scrambling to her feet as if to get away, "S-So sorry, I didn't know we were playing for money."

"We're not!" Leekah laughed, "But, do you wanna?"

Princess Zelda lunged for a mop and bucket positioned behind her. But Missus's Lawdon hooked her arm. "Hold on - you can't get away that easily! Are you a mathematician? Scholarly? Ancient nobility? Hateno escapee? Tell me, girl!"

Breaking free, Zelda hid behind a bucket and mop. "I should be carrying on with your mopping, Missus Lawdon. I think I see mud prints by the foyer again."

Link pushed himself up to intervene somehow, but he caught Missus Lawdon's attention. He faltered, wishing he had just a few more moments to observe. But, she shot him a finger his way, "Hey! look who's up!"

Suddenly the Princess was looking his way with those bleary green eyes.

The room resounded. A skinny man shot up, ""I called it! He's up before noon!"

"Link!" The Princess said all too loud, taking his attention.

Next thing he knew, she was scampering towards him. Leaning forward - too quickly. Link instinctively held out his arms. Unlucky, she tripped into the chair. Link caught her shoulder before the crash, "A-Are you okay?"

She settled in apologetically.

Link, too anxious to further help her, sat frozen at the edge of his bed - eye's jumping from her big smile to the impending crowd closing in his left. The overwhelm stirred Link from his sheets. He sorely pushed himself between the crowd and the Princess, but to no use of protecting himself.

A bustling cluster of five or seven people descended on him with drunken smiles and slurring well-wishes, "Hey son, you feeling better?"

"How's that wound?"

"Lawdon's no doctor! Show us those stitches!'

An old man with smiling red eyes and white whiskers grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously, "You're well enough to stand, aren't ya? Go ahead, take a stand!"

But, in came the stablemaster! He broke through the small crowd with a broomstick and swatted at the busybodies. They scampered away from the pair, allowing Link a moment to ease himself back down onto the edge of his bed.

"Go back to yer card games, ya brutes!" Said Lawdon, swatting away. He then peered over his shoulder, "Sorry kid, this guy here has a red rupee on you getting up by the end of the hour."

"Don't play sides, Lawdie!" The brute reported, "More money for me means more money on your wife's drinks!"

Smack! Lawdon got him on the shoulder. "Y'all have had enough! Shoo! Go outside! Get drenched and sober up!"

He threw down his broom and pointed, "Don't cross!"

Behind him, men sauntered away.

Upfront, Link spotted some burly guests shaking hands with a skinny man by the bar. He shot his hand up for a drink. Apparently, that skinny man had made money off Link waking at that exact hour. Now, he was cashing in his earnings with some whisky. He shot it down - the guests cheered. And the cheering swayed into a folk song. Someone broke out a lute. That skinny young man, now pink-faced, began drumming at the bar table. Horses from outside neighed to the music. And nearby wives swayed to the noise with their babies. Heat blazed from the hearth across the way, making Link sweat even more. He wiped his brow, wondering how he could have slept through all this commotion.

The heat on his neck caught his attention. His hair was down wasn't it? He instinctively reached for the back of his head to tie it back. The Princess watched him do so until meeting his eyes. Only then did she look down at the toolbox that Lawdon had kicked out from beneath Link's bed. The stablemaster retrieved a bundle of gauze tied with twine.

"Believe it or not," he sat himself beside Link's feet, "It's like this every time it storms. Though Lassy's big card trick over there just made them worse."

"I-I'm sorry." Came the Princess, unfurling Lawdon's pack of gauze for him, "I saw the opportunity, and I - well, we play a lot of Hearts where I'm from."

"Hearts?"

"The card game. It's hearts, correct?"

"We call it donkey-butt."

"D-Donkey-what?"

"Donkey-butt."

The Princess looked Link's way, mouthing the word.

His own words fell out of his mouth, "A-And you won?"

She bit her lip.

He faltered - did he speak out of turn?

She dismissed his thought with the wave of her hands, "I just… I should have kept mopping."

Suddenly, another older man swaggered in - this one burlier and balding - and tried to seat himself next to Lawdon at the edge of Link's bed, "Y-You know, Hen," he faced the Princess, "I need a poker partner for tonight's tournament, and I was thinking -"

"What part of 'Don't Cross', don't you understand?" Lawdon shoved the man off the bed, "Respect the broom, Quince! And the lady's friend here! He's been out for three days!"

Three days?

The man echoed Link's alarm. "Watcha doing out for three days, boy?"

Urgency and remorse had him staring at Zelda - three days? Really? But, she ignored him and busied herself on the toolbox. While Lawdon warded off their visitor, the Princess collected some tools - all before eyeing him for permission to touch his side.

Shy, Link collapsed into himself. Heat rushed his face; his heart thumped with the drumming rain on the tent's canopy. For, a year and a half, he had treated his own wounds, bled out on forest floors, and passed by bands of travelers without a single word. The opposite bombarded him now. He had slept three days in a soft bed, taken refuge in a warm stable, people were checking in on him, and the Princess of his own country - who should have been safe with the sheikah by now! - was asking him permission for her to treat his wounds. For, no one prepared him for her to be this nice. Impa said they had argued a lot - rather, she would yell at him, and he'd take it.

From the bottom of his heart, he wanted to be agreeable - to let her do it. But, the knight inside could not let her. He unwrapped it himself - all to his pain and discomfort.

And together, they beholded the wound that made Link feel so vulnerable.

Quince was first to exclaim, "Damn, son! What happened?"

"Move along, Quince!" Lawdon grabbed his broom. "This doesn't concern you."

"Oh, sorry," Quince bowed, "I mean no disrespect, but I?"

"Shoo!" Lawdon smacked him! The man skedaddled.

Link watched him go - back to the sing-songs and clanging of beer glasses. He stuck up a lyric halfway across the room.

Lawdon broke the silence, "You weren't interested in playing poker, were you Lassy? Hate to deprive you of a couple rupees."

"No, n-not particularly." She dabbed a solution onto a rag. "No, thank you."

"Good. They all cheat anyway."

Princess Zelda looked between Link and her rag.

Link held himself together - truthfully, he wanted to take the rag from her and treat the wound himself. But, he could not think of a way to do it politely. Time was ticking as he sat there at the edge of his bed. And with a moment of bravery, he looked up at her - and nodded.

He held his breath.

She went forward.