Philia
[philia: brotherly love, the love of friendships]
"Urbosa?"
"Yes, Little Bird?"
"Do you think he's cold out there?"
The inquiry was shaded with melancholy, and a wilted Zelda was fully aware of the answer she'd receive.
A chilled, indigo night blanketed the desert town of Gerudo. In the darkened corners of the dunes, the terrain was recklessly punishing; even within the walls, those unaccustomed to the vast spectrum of conditions that the desert offered would struggle, but the town harbored pockets of relief under the shade of its palms, around the communal fire pits and in glasses that brimmed with full-bodied drinks.
The Gerudo Chieftain turned to find the princess with her gaze fixated out into the night. Urbosa leaned against the arched entry of the guest room and folded her elegant arms. She gave a mournful smile.
"I imagine so."
The shops along the town's main avenue had already shut their doors for the evening, though the night was still alive with drink and merriment if one knew where to find it. An amalgam of perfumes and spices, the scents of the town that so strongly reminded Zelda of the desert excursions of her youth, ravished her through the open window.
Zelda appeared so juvenile in the accommodations, small and uneasy as she clutched the blankets around her, like a child waking from a nightmare. Her long, golden hair had been gathered back into a fishtail braid, an exotic style in comparison to those she'd worn back home, and it draped attractively across the front of her shoulder. A slant of moonlight slid over her face, allowing Urbosa to witness the strain that wrenched the girl's expression.
Zelda tipped her head forward defeatedly.
"I feel terrible."
Urbosa stepped further into the room, rounding the foot of the bed and settling herself atop the plush sheets. She reached out, gently touching the girl's tired face.
"I know."
Zelda nodded meekly into her palm.
"You know that I love you, sweet girl. And you know that I will always speak to you as openly as I can."
"I know," the princess whispered, the threat of a crack edged into her voice.
"Which is why I will say this; it is perhaps a bit of a good thing that you harbor some guilt about today."
Threatening tears immediately formed in the corners of Zelda's wearied eyes. Urbosa placed another hand on the girl's face, cupping her cheeks.
"You were rash. You nearly got yourself killed. And that boy would have been severely punished. We all would have suffered."
Urbosa's face was filled with sympathy. Her voice bore no hint of resentment, and although the words stung Zelda, wounding her as though the woman had dragged a scimitar along the delicate length of her arm, the Princess harbored no anger.
"I understand." Zelda whispered tearfully. "I'm so sorry."
"Take those feelings and learn from them." Urbosa gathered the girl in her arms, kissing the top of her head and cradling her as her mother had done many years prior. " I love you. So very much. And I am so grateful that he showed up in time."
Zelda blinked into Urbosa's chest, memories of the day's event flashing into her mind–the maniacal laughter of her would-be assassins ringing in her ears. The pulsating heat of the desert sun. The image of a blade, drawn up in preparation of the final blow.
And her knight attendant, like an apparition, suddenly before her. His intervention was practically divine–she'd had no idea how he'd made it out so far into the desert without being noticed. Zelda closed her eyes, recalling the image of him standing before her with the legendary blade firmly in hand. The way that, after every unkind word she'd assailed him with, he had still kneeled down to gauge her mental state. He'd wrenched her limbs out from her to search for any apparent wounds….had even offered to carry her all the way back to the town.
"I am, too."
Urbosa paused.
"Have you ever truly considered that perhaps he might know a thing or two about what you're feeling?" she cooed, running a finger along the girl's braid.
Zelda swallowed.
Urbosa gave a soft hum of acknowledgement. "Someone who the fates have selected to carry a rather heavy load. Someone who is expected to serve his calling diligently and effectively, whether he feels prepared to do so or not. Sounds a little familiar, wouldn't you agree?"
Truthfully, this hadn't been the first time Urbosa had tried to convince Zelda that her knight would prove a worthy ally-but it was the first time in which the princess had been willing to listen.
Zelda nodded silently against Urbosa's form. Much to the Chieftain's relief, it appeared that she had no intention of clinging to the weathered arguments that she'd grasped at for so long.
"Why don't you get some sleep?" she asked, stroking the top of the girl's head. "Perhaps the two of you can get a fresh start in the morning. I think you might find a worthy companion in him."
Zelda pulled away from Urbosa and laid back against the satin pillow.
"That would be nice," the princess reluctantly murmured.
Urbosa gave a relieved smile.
"Thank you, Urbosa. Good night."
"Good night, Little Bird."
Urbosa had extinguished the light of the room upon departing, and Zelda found herself lying in darkness for half of an hour before she finally bolted up in annoyance. Her mind was deeply preoccupied, thoughts furiously ricocheting back and forth in her head. The possibility of slipping into a heavy slumber was seeming more and more unlikely as the minutes passed.
She pushed the comforter aside and rose from the bed, moving to the window to survey the streets beneath her. She could make out the imposing forms of several Gerudo conversing in the alleyways, their golden jewelry glinting in the moonlight. She could hear the dignified sound of their native tongue spilling from their lips excitedly; Zelda often found herself enjoying the ways their mouths luxuriated over the elongated vowels and the quick taps of the consonants. It was a romantic language to be sure, and she yearned for a fluency in it that she had never quite managed to master.
With a slight huff of displaced indignation and a final determined thought, she headed across the guest room to retrieve an item from her belongings. She slid her feet into a delicious pair of teal colored sandals, quickly adjusting the bronze fasteners that attached around the ankles, and she wrapped a deep, sapphire cloak around her frame before darting from the room.
The palace had grown still in the evening hours, though the glow of bronze lanterns still ebbed and flowed around the main chamber. Zelda could make out the spear-wielding guards flanking the entrance to the throne room, and her scuffling feet caught their attention. They turned in response, recognizing her immediately as she drew nearer.
"Princess, is something wrong? Shall I fetch Lady Urbosa?"
Zelda shook her head. "No need. I'd like to speak to my knight for a moment."
The guards exchanged glances.
"I hope this voe can be trusted." The shorter guard said.
Zelda gave a small laugh. "It seems that he might very well might be the most trustworthy one there is."
An amused expression flashed across the taller guard's face. With a short laugh, she murmured something in her native tongue, an old Gerudo adage that Zelda vaguely recognized; something along the lines of: 'the most trustworthy voe still dwells in the shadow of the most dishonored vai."
It was often said in jest, but on today of all days, Zelda did not find the comment particularly delightful.
"He is stationed close by, near the Western Gate," the other guard said, noting the slight frown on the princess' face. "I am more than happy to escort you."
"There is no need. I know the way."
Recognizing the location, Zelda hoped that Link's evening had not consisted of the smell of sand seal corrals and unmelodious braying.
"I must insist." The voice was stern. "We have been instructed to take extra precautions for the remainder of your visit."
Zelda paled.
More restrictions, set in place after her reckless behavior-she'd taken the small bit of freedom the desert provided and tarnished it.
"Very well, then."
They moved through the cleared streets and the brisk air nipped at her every step of the way. She lowered her head as they passed a small party, but the alcoholic stupor that encapsulated the group meant that she crossed unnoticed. She tiptoed past the sleeping animals in their corrals, and the desert opened up before them as they moved past the western gate. They greeted the trio of soldiers that guarded it, and one of the women pointed to the right.
Zelda's eyes landed upon a tent that had been constructed along the edge of the wall. It was rather large, certainly suitable for at least two people. Link had spent the previous night in Kara Kara Bazaar, but after the day's events, he had demanded to stay as close to the princess as possible. Urbosa had been in no shape to deny his request.
"Thank you, I should only be a few minutes."
As she made her way to the tent, she glanced upwards to drink in the endless stretch of spangled sky; the stars shimmered like flecks of diamonds encrusted into a navy scrim. They always seemed to glow differently in the desert.
She pitied that her knight would not be able to see them while he dozed off as she would.
Zelda shivered beneath the cloak, gripping the fabric in her hands tightly against her body. She examined the tent for a moment to secure the entryway; A piece of driftwood had been tied to the canvas to create a makeshift doorbell. She inhaled deeply and knocked on the small plank. The cloth of the tent pooled on the floor, and there was no discernible way to tell if Link was still awake. She took a step back, holding her breath and secretly praying that he might have already fallen asleep, suddenly nervous to face him. She took a step backward, and then another, and had anticipated turning around entirely when the tent spread open and he suddenly loomed before her.
Zelda had always been fascinated by Link's eyes. Striking and mesmerizing. Even in the dark of the night, the azure of his gaze pierced her deeply. A faint glow of bronze emanated from over his head, casting a celestial wash over him.
"Princess," he said, immediately bending a knee before her.
"Please stand, Sir Link."
He obliged and rose to her level once more.
"Good evening. I hope I did not wake you," she said.
He shook his head.
"May I…come in for a moment?"
He nodded and stepped backwards, gesturing for her to enter.
Zelda's eyes wandered around the room–with such short notice, they had provided rather modest lodgings, completely befitting of the knight which it housed. A cot. A few blankets. A bench. A rug. A lantern. A small table that held a few pieces of desert fruit in a dish.
She noticed that it was still very, very cold.
"I wanted to thank you again. For today."
"You're welcome."
Link looked down at his feet shyly, which she found peculiar.
"You were incredible. I am still overwhelmed thinking about it. You practically came out of nowhere!" Her voice had risen slightly with excitement, perhaps too much excitement, and Link raised his eyes to gauge her expression. She felt a strange sensation grip her, as though he was judging her for recalling the incident in such a way.
"With all due respect, I am just doing my job." he said simply, offering a very weak smile.
Zelda settled herself. "I know. And, it's time for me to admit that you are doing a very good job at it. It's...it's time I apologize to you. I'm sorry that I've taken out so much of my frustration on you. You've only been doing as my father instructed…and….and it has been wrong of me to punish you for my own shortcomings. You deserve much better than how you have been treated."
The pierce in Link's gaze adjusted, ever so slightly, and his hardened look was now tinged with surprise. He bowed his head deeply.
"That means a great deal, Princess."
"My behavior has been wildly inappropriate." she pressed on. "And I am ashamed that the future ruler of Hyrule has treated a valuable citizen so poorly. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."
Zelda half expected him to wave off her words. She wouldn't have blamed him for thinking that she only spoke out of gratitude. She waited for his face to harden in masked irritation.
"Of course, Princess. I…" he seemed to be choosing his words wisely. "I don't hold it against you. I know you're feeling a lot of pressure...but, your efforts are admirable. I am confident that you will succeed."
She had done more than enough to deserve his scorn, if he had desired to award her with it-and yet he relented to her apology without even the slightest trace of hostility or self-righteousness. It was somewhat infuriating to know: he was a kind boy.
A very kind boy.
Far kinder than I, she thought.
Zelda cleared her throat. "Thank you. I'm certain that his whole thing hasn't been very easy on you, either."
Link bowed his head again, nodding as he gathered a few words. "Things change very quickly once you've pulled the Master Sword."
Zelda had never once considered that Link's entire life had been ripped away from him. She couldn't even recall the village he hailed from. Guilt nipped at her.
Link spoke frankly, without any hint of pity or disdain, and the princess wondered how much he was refusing to divulge.
"I'm sorry to hear that. I suppose that's a bit out of my hands, though." she tried to say as kindly as possible, delicately jutting her chin in the direction of the Master Sword that had been propped against the foot of the bed.
"It's alright. I appreciate you coming, Princess. It's an honor." He bowed his head once more.
Link's words touched her in a slight way, just enough to generate a soft color in her cheeks.
"It was the right thing to do," she reasoned.
He was staring at his feet again, shuffling his weight, and it was difficult for Zelda to believe that this was the same Link that she'd witnessed in the arid wasteland hours earlier.
"You should get some rest." he said.
Curiously, his reluctance to look at her directly quietly wounded her.
Zelda nodded and began to move towards the exit before catching herself.
"Oh!"
She glanced down at the bundle in her arms. "I almost forgot. I wanted to lend this to you for the night." She moved closer to Link and held it out to him–a colorful thing, folded upon itself. He accepted it from her slowly and eyed it carefully.
"It's a quilt," she explained, watching him gingerly rotate the fabric as though it were rice paper. "I thought it might be cold out here. It seems I was right." she grimaced. "Unfortunately, I cannot provide you the hospitality you truly deserve out here, but…I thought you might appreciate this small token."
She watched as he unfolded the material, revealing an intricate pattern of reds and purples and golds. The design was undoubtedly Gerudo in style; it appeared to have been fashioned after one of the rare shields the warriors used. She saw his fingers run along the quilt's edges, knowing that he had surely realized how warm it would be around his body.
"That's very sweet of you," he said. "Very kind."
Zelda, with a mind that had been highly trained in the art of diplomacy and relations, frequently found herself analyzing conversations to death. She pondered others' intentions, tracing their trains of thought and connecting dots wherever she could. And unfortunately for Zelda, it was this line of thinking that kept her anxieties pinging back and forth inside of her brain at practically every waking moment.
This conversation was no exception: perhaps Link had thought that using the sweet might come across as infantilizing. Kind would be a more neutral option, much safer to use with her in the infancy of their friendship. That is, if they were eventually fated to become friends at all, of course. Perhaps he wouldn't-
"It's a beautiful piece," he said, graciously interrupting her internal monologue.
Zelda nodded, and voice grew soft. "Urbosa made this for me herself many years ago. After my mother passed. It's very special to me. It has comforted me through my most sleepless nights. It will surely keep you warm on such a cold evening."
The longer she stood around, the less accurate the word cold was. The temperature seemed to dropping as she spoke.
Zelda noticed his eyebrows knit together, and he wore almost a pained expression on his face. Subtle, but apparent.
"It's far too special–I couldn't." He attempted to hand it back to her, but she raised her palms up.
"Nonsense." Her eyes flared. " It is special. But I do not see why the chosen Hero himself cannot use it." Then, more playfully: "Your Princess demands that you use it."
And then, for perhaps the first time since she had known him, she witnessed a grin blossom onto his face. For a moment, it seemed as though he'd turned into a brand new person. It was, frankly, startling.
Startling, and terribly intriguing.
"Alright, then."
Zelda smiled herself. "Good night, Sir Link. I look forward to speaking further with you in the morning."
"Good night, Princess. Rest well."
[x]
Zelda attempted to reenter her quarters as quietly as possible. The last thing she wanted was to run into Urbosa, who would surely have many questions for her. She'd face them tomorrow, after a good night's rest.
So when she came upon the Gerudo woman lingering outside her doorway, with her arms folded and a knowing smirk upon her face, she immediately reddened.
"I take it your knight is well?" Urbosa asked teasingly.
Zelda wordlessly tossed the cloak aside and ducked her head. Despite herself, she gave a reluctant smile and inelegantly dove onto the bed, burying her face into the pillow with sandals still latched onto chilled feet.
Urbosa gave a radiant laugh.
Note: I guess somewhere along the line I decided to make Zelda a Virgo.