Zelda's father was a great man. He was warm and big, and he always patted her head and gave her smooches when she was worried. Zelda's father read her stories when she went to sleep, always made sure the cooks made her favorite dessert on tuesdays and taught her about all the flowers in their garden.

Zelda's father's voice was deep and rumbly, fatherly and stern at the same time. He couldn't really sing, but he always hummed along with Zelda when she sang to her mother. And her mother loved that. And his father loved that. And Zelda... Zelda, too, loved that.

Zelda's father happened to be the King of Hyrule, Zelda's mother happened to be the Queen of Hyrule, which in turn meant that Zelda happened to be the Princess of Hyrule.

Zelda's mother was... a good, loving woman. A... beloved woman. Respected. Zelda's mother was... an image, a told memory. Zelda's mother wasn't really remembered by Zelda herself, she had been killed when Zelda was a child so Zelda could only remember her by how her father had been affected by her. And after her death, Zelda's father had been cold, lonely... sad.

Even though Zelda was still there.

When Zelda tried to recall memories she had to close her eyes - really put strenght to it. All she could really remember was feeling scared and lost, she couldn't remember faces nor sceneries but she could recall feelings. And Zelda could still feel strong hands moving her around, from one to another, from one place to the other. And her father was nowhere. But she had been protected, she had been guarded, and she soon realized that for everyone to feel safe the heir had to be fine. And she happened to be the heir.

"Daddy?" Her father spent long hours on his study, reading piles upon piles of documents. Zelda wanted to ask about her mother. Where was she? Zelda could swear her mother used to sing her to sleep. But now she was nowhere to be found. "Daddy?" Where's mommy?

A man took the princess and dragged her away. Had her father not heard her?

"Princess." It was usually Zelda. Just Zelda. But now they bowed to her, looked at her as if searching for something, "Princess, your father the King is very exhausted right now, would you not like to play some with me?"

Sure. Her father was exhausted, though? Why was he still reading so much, then? "Ok," the man looked tired, too, "but I don't really want to play, I'm looking for my mommy."

The man was smiling, smiling so hard Zelda could see his skin tightening at his cheeks. Like when the clowns laughed in front of her face. Tight. Not so close, please.

"Her Highness the Queen..." the man looked around. Zelda could only remember shadows, the only important one was the man in front of her. "Her Highness the Queen has gone away."

Zelda frowned. Without her?

Her father was looking out the window, the light came through and he had his eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the sunlight.

"Daddy?" King Daphness opened his eyes, blood-shot, wrinkled.

"My child."

Zelda walked to him, tiny steps. She couldn't talk about her mother, she couldn't talk about her mother, she couldn't...

Her mother had died. Her mother had gone to heaven. Her mother had gone on a really long journey. Her mother was no longer with them, and King Daphness was sad.

And Zelda could not talk about her mother.

"Lord Louden has told me you have aced all of your exams." A congratulation without being one. It was the beginning of being proud of her without showing.

"I have, daddy." To make you proud, daddy. To make you smile. "Are you very tired today, daddy?" I want to go walk with you, I want to sing while you hum along.

Kind Daphness looked upon her daughter, all proper and prim, all small smiles and clasped hands. Before, she had been dirty knees and plasters on her face, all open laughs and big movements. Before... before they had killed her mother. Before... when he still thought he had time.

"You," My daughter, "You are an amazing princess."

Zelda stilled a second, could feel her breath stopping. A... princess? Was she not allowed to be Zelda anymore?

Is... Is that what you want, daddy?
Will that make you happy, dad?
I... I can make that happen, father.

"I will be the best princess there ever was, father."

King Daphness swallowed his shame, "I need you to be the best Queen, child."

Zelda thought about it. A queen, for Zelda to be queen... what was she supposed to do? "Can I become a queen, daddy?"

It wasn't a question of whether she could or not, sadly, "You have to," King Daphness' voice was deep and low.

Zelda blinked, her father was so big, so important. "Then I will become the best queen there ever was."

A promise.

An alarm she had to snooze every now and then.

Zelda pressed her forehead on the window of her study.

"He's dead." A reminder.

She had wanted to make her father proud. But he... he... "He's dead."

She had thought that achieving their dreams would make him proud. Would mean something. She had thought that maybe she would gain something from keeping up her promise. But now it was becoming more and more difficult to see the goal, to see the reward.

She had fought for so long. No male heir to the throne, an obstacle. A father who asked, and asked, and asked, an obstacle. A council who didn't find her fitting, an obstacle. Mistakes of the father being carried unto the child, an obstacle. The absence of the King to facilitate the transition, an obstacle.

"Can I ask for a favor?" Link approached her in her gardens. He must have timed it, because the guards were away and the people were scarce. He must have timed it, as she had heard he had been avoiding everyone.

She wanted to say that 'of course, anyhing', but the drill of waiting for them to talk first was etched into her mind. It pressured them to say what they wanted, it gave her a chance to retreat without being rude. Before Zelda had the chance to fight back and answer Link, he kept going.

"I promised to bring gifts when I go back to Ordon, you know? And I told Illia I would buy her some fancy clothes, maybe a dress?" Link's eyes were shining with enthusiasm, "And I'll be honest, I'm not the best at choosing clothes. If they work and look resistant I'm good to go," Link shrugged, he knew clothes with that characteristics were more likely to be far from fashionable, "and Illia made me promise I would have you look for something nice." Link cocked his head and mumbled that Illia didn't trust him that much. "So, only if you have time and want to, would you be game for it?"

Zelda had to check her schedules. Protocol dictated that she said no. Protocol dictated that she could ask a maid to work as her proxy.

But Zelda didn't really think too much, she accepted and had received a model and color preferences. And Link left, not before grasping Zelda's hand and whispering, "Zelda," a silence filled with things to say, "there is a world out there."

Zelda closed her eyes. There was no way she could see Link arriving from where she was. And yet she tried.

"There is a world out there," Zelda whispered. She had forgotten about it.

When Link and Robert left the cave, Robert opened his arms and looked at the sky with bliss. "How I have missed the sun."

Link was covered in blood and guts and Robert had made sure not to joke about it. Link had been silent all the way back. Nice, amicable, but silent.

"Let's go find a river, I need to wash up." An understatement, as Link could even feel the sloshing of blood inside his boots.

Robert could feel Link's relief when they saw a river. Link excused himself and jogged to it. By the time Robert arrived, Link had taken off all of his clothes but his underwear and was frantically washing by the river.

Robert let his luggage next to Link's and looked for a tree to rest under. When Robert turned to tell Link, he froze. The light reflecting from Link's body, the water shining around, the blood being washed by the river, and-

"Keep staring and I'll charge you."

-and the scars. "Link" Have you seen-? Of course he had. How-? From fighting, clearly. Did it hu-? Robert would punch himself if he could. "How are you still alive?" There. That was a fair question.

Link looked up, thinking about that too. If he had to be honest, then, "Luck," a bunch of it, "and red potions," Link felt a shiver run down his spine, "and fairies."

Robert could feel his jaw falling, face filled with horror. Red potions? Fairies? Really? Link? "Link, those are-"

Illegal, dangerous, magic-filled things, "You asked."

Robert swallowed, remembered the screams, "An uncle of mine, he had a really bad broken leg. They were going to cut it off, as it was bleeding so bad. Then someone brought a red potion and-"

Link made a pained face, shook his head. And Robert felt the doubt lift from his body. He had really-

"It fused, right? He must have been left with a-"

"An excuse of a leg and a bad limp that still hurts."

Link clicked his tongue. "Yeah." and he went back to washing.

Robert stared back, traced one of Link's biggest scars with his eyes.

"I was serious when I said I'd charge you, Robert."

And Robert imagined Link, desperate, gulping down a potion and then waiting for it to work. "You had a partner, right?" Please, tell me you did.

"Yup, so you can imagine me gulping potions and having a voice next to me shushing me because enemies might find us."

Robert had thought-

Link looked back, and Robert's face was telling, "Hey, it sounds bad, I know, but she was right, we couldn't let them find us."

"They-?"

"And it's all in the past now, all right? I'm alive and kicking, so..."

Link turned to his clothes and sent Robert on his way. And Robert could not shake the need to know more.

"Could you please sleep?"

Link smirked and Robert wanted to scream things at the blond.

"I really am used to sleeping in short naps when I'm out."

"Sure, and the frown in your face and the bags under your eyes are a fashion choice, too."

The bags were really due to being sleep deprived, sure. The frown was thanks to the bublins allying with other monsters. That was worrying. King Bulblin had taken his men and left to be better and live freely. And yet some were still here.

"Please stop worrying and sleep, for Hylia's sake."

Link smiled, that was good advice.

That was good advice, and he was tired.