Warnings: None
Zelda awoke the next day alone—an occurrence that was not at all uncommon. While she herself was an early riser, Link still always seemed to awaken before her. Where he consistently rushed off to in the mornings, she did not know. The sheets fell from her body like water as she stood from the bed, selecting one of her royal robes from the closet and dressing herself behind the lattice. She made her way to the royal dining hall, trying not to focus on how lonely her life truly was.
She ate her breakfast in silence. It had been waiting for her at the table, steaming hot as always. As she was finishing and daintily wiping her mouth on a napkin, Impa entered the forlorn hall. "Time for your magic lessons, your highness," Impa smiled upon the princess, offering her a hand.
Zelda sighed, but accepted the hand, rising from her chair. Her magic lessons were not something she greatly anticipated throughout the day, but she understood that they were necessary for her preparation as the future queen. She followed Impa to the ancient conservatory, an area of the castle long abandoned and rarely visited. Impa had thus adopted it as their private training quarters. "Close the door, Princess," Impa began as the two of them stood in the old greenhouse.
With a flick of Zelda's wrist, the doors thumped shut. "Very good, your highness," Impa smiled proudly. The gesture wore off on Zelda, a small grin slipping onto her lips as well.
"Will you now please lift this book?" Impa placed an old tome upon a table, stepping back and patiently observing the princess.
Zelda's brow furrowed as she concentrated. Her natural wisdom and innate ability to focus her thoughts made telekinetic activities much simpler for her, but despite this, they were by no means easy. However, after a few moments, the book began to levitate over the table steadily. "Well done, Princess," Impa nodded, signifying her satisfaction.
"And now I control your mind?" Zelda joked, revealing a sense of humor often only exposed in Impa's company.
Impa smiled, "No. But I predict it will be equally as challenging."
Impa retrieved a flower pot from the floor, discarded and forgotten perhaps decades ago. Zelda felt a pang of sympathy for the pitiful plant, the flower wilted, crumpled, and lifeless. "I'm teaching you something new today," Impa explained, setting the pot onto the table, "the art of healing."
Zelda listened carefully, as Impa explicated, "I want you to focus, your highness. This will require a great deal of energy, and it will be impossible if you cannot direct your whole attention to the task at hand. Healing is only possible through physical contact; one can never completely heal without the assistance of others. Therefore, lay your hand upon the plant."
Zelda did as Impa instructed. "Now concentrate, your highness," Impa commanded, "Similarly to how you must focus your mind on lifting the book if you wish for it to rise, focus on returning life to the plant. If done correctly, you should feel your life force seeping into the plant."
Zelda shut her eyes, trying to center all of her attention on the dead life beneath her fingertips. After a few moments, however, nothing had happened. "Impa, what am I doing wrong?" Zelda inquired sadly, disappointed with herself.
Impa ushered Zelda aside, placing her own hands on the plant briefly, until—to Zelda's amazement—a streak of the brightest green flushed through the stem of the flower. "You make it look so easy," Zelda murmured in awe.
Impa shook her head, "It is very difficult. Healing is different from all else I have taught you; it involves an emotional connection as well. For most, this comes naturally, but it must be a strong bond if the process is to be successful. This time, as you touch the flower, think of your sorrow for it, of your pity. Thinking of your emotions should ease the process. Try again, Princess."
Nodding with determination, Zelda laid her hand on the now livened plant again. "Make its petals blossom with life," Impa told her.
Zelda's eyes fluttered shut again. She thought of the plant's pain, of her desires for it to live again, of her sadness at its death. Yet—nothing. Zelda exhaled with frustration, turning to Impa. "Do not take it to heart, Princess," Impa assured her, "It is one of the most difficult things you will ever learn. I only wish I could explain it to you more clearly. You must truly long for the object to heal—you must desire it with all of your being. It's—"
As Impa spoke, a royal herald entered the conservatory, interrupting Impa mid-sentence. "Pardon me," he apologized, stooping low before the two women. "I bring a message for the Princess Zelda. Lord Radimir requests an audience with you at your convenience, your majesty," the young boy informed her.
Zelda's mood immediately brightened. Lord Radimir was one of the few members of court whose presence she enjoyed. The diplomat was well-educated, well-composed, and generally pleasant to be around. Zelda looked to Impa for permission. Impa smiled, shaking her head, "Go on, your highness."
Zelda grinned gratefully to Impa. "Show him to the terrace," Zelda ordered briskly, straightening her dress and hastily untangling a curl of her hair without even realizing her actions.
"Yes, your majesty."
Zelda could feel her morning brightening upon seeing Radimir lounging against the balcony overlooking the courtyards, unaware of Zelda's presence. Radimir presided over a small village near the Kokiri Forest, so his position was not one of great power. But Zelda found that that made him almost more enticing as an individual. Radimir did not have the arrogance of other monarchs that was often aggravating to Zelda. He had not fought crusades through which he might brag about his glory nor had he sought out ways to increase his standing. His humility and studious manner made him all the more appealing to Zelda. While she had long considered herself incapable of experiencing love (ever since her marriage to Link), she sometimes wondered if she felt the echoes of it for Radimir.
Radimir looked up, his warm brown eyes glowing at the sight of the princess. "Princess Zelda," he kissed one of her gloved hands respectfully after bowing before her, "Thank you for your time; I'm sure you are short on it."
"Never for such a man as yourself," Zelda replied with a gentle smile, her face growing warm at her words.
Radimir smiled back, seeming equally as shy as the princess. "I came to discuss a matter of urgent business," he explained, beginning to walk around the terrace with Zelda at his side. The terrace wrapped around the walls of the castle, making a perfect square above the courtyard. Zelda noticed briefly that Link was practicing his archery beneath them, having set up a few targets for himself.
Radimir continued, oblivious to the young prince below the terrace, "It seems some of the people of my village have been threatened by Gerudo thieves more and more frequently as of late. I myself once ventured out to their fortress to attempt to reach some sort of understanding with them, but they refused to see me. It seems my people have been robbed and even beaten by these thieves to the point that they now fear to leave the town at night. Even ventures into the once peaceful Kokiri Forest now seem unwise."
"I see," Zelda was genuinely concerned, and she tried to show it with her tone, "I'll send out a scouting party as soon as possible to investigate the matter."
Radimir turned to her, smiling broadly, "Thank you so much, Princess. It means the world to me."
Zelda smiled back, "Anything to ensure the safety of our people."
Radimir halted in his step, Zelda stopping as well. He neared the edge of the balcony, looking out over the castle walls to the vast land beyond. "You're a wonderful ruler, Princess," Radimir said, his voice awed and sincere, "I can only hope your people appreciate you."
Zelda blushed at the compliment, unsure of how to respond. Radimir continued, his smile as serene as a sunset, "It's my pleasure to call you friend. You truly listen to your people, unlike other monarchs. It greatly impacts your citizens, more than you know."
Zelda's heart raced in her chest, and she quickly changed the subject, hoping to rid of herself of the strange feeling that accompanied Radimir's flattery. "It's not a challenging task to care for them. And naturally I have Link to aid me as well."
Radimir's smile faltered at the mention of Link, and Zelda wondered to herself if she had done something wrong. "Is he a good ruler then?" Radimir asked, his voice quiet.
"Of course," Zelda felt uneasy, recognizing that something had changed between her and Radimir but unable to identify what it was. She was usually excellent at understanding people to the point of being able to read them like books, but Radimir bewildered her in more ways than one.
Radimir turned, his back to the balcony, facing solely Zelda. "Are you happy with him?" he whispered, his eyes portraying his sorrow.
Zelda could feel her insides tighten. She shouldn't speak of her relationship with Link; nobody was meant to know of her misery and of his. "I—" she searched for the correct phrase, a proper way of putting it. She quickly brushed past Radimir to lean over the railing, looking out at the kingdom so that he could not perceive her hesitance.
"Do you regret your marriage to him?" Radimir pressed, standing beside her, "Forgive me for prying, your highness, but…I must know the truth."
Zelda paused still, having the lie prepared on her tongue but unable to speak it. She studied Death Mountain in the distance, nearly jumping out of her skin as Radimir laid a gentle hand atop her own on the railing. Radimir immediately removed his hand, apologizing quickly, "Forgive me, Princess! I did not mean to startle—"
Zelda's attention was seized below as Link's attendant whistled loudly, "What's gotten into ya, Master Link? I've never seen ya miss by that much in all my life!"
Zelda's heart froze as Link locked eyes with her from the courtyard. His gaze was intense, and he looked—hurt, sad. His eyes then shifted to Radimir quickly before he returned his focus to his bow. "I should not have brought up the subject," Radimir explained suddenly, "I—it is not my business, and I apologize. Thank you for your time, Princess."
Radimir bowed before her, awaiting her dismissal. "Your company is never a nuisance," Zelda reinstated, more softly than before, "You are dismissed."
Radimir left, seeming hurried as he did, and Zelda could not help but be very puzzled by everything that had happened.
Link was stoic at dinner that night, expression solemn as he sat across from Zelda at their long dining table. Zelda hadn't the heart to ask what was wrong, fearful of what he might say. After pensively eating his dinner, Link finally said slowly, "I've spoken with the servants and the ballroom is nearly prepared for the celebration two days from now."
Zelda could not withhold her sigh, "Link, it's really not necessary to throw a ball for my birthday. There are more important things to tend to."
"I want to," Link stated firmly, meeting Zelda's eyes, "It's an important occasion."
Zelda returned to eating her food, trying to avoid starting an argument. "What matters need tending to?" Link inquired, his voice sounding strained.
"There have been Gerudo raids on the towns near the Kokiri Forest," Zelda elaborated lightly, trying to block out the images of Radimir that haunted her mind.
"Lord Radimir's lands?" Link's tone grew harsh.
Zelda looked up from her plate, "Yes."
"I will leave with a scouting party after the ball. But I would prefer you not have audiences with Radimir anymore," Link said simply, maintaining eye contact with Zelda as he spoke.
Zelda tensed, "I don't think that would be necessary."
Link's lips drew tight, as if he were pondering which words to speak, "I would simply prefer it, Zelda. I don't appreciate his…ways of interacting with you."
Zelda set her fork down, the noise a strident clank that set a more forceful tone than she would have liked, "I value Radimir's company and his opinions, Link. My dealings with him should be in no way concerning."
A herald entered the dining hall, sparing the couple of their uncomfortable conversation. "A letter for you, Master Link," the boy bowed swiftly, delivering a faded parchment and then leaving again.
Zelda continued eating wordlessly as Link read his letter. Yet, she could not contain her curiosity as he set the paper aside and made no comment about its contents. "Bad news?" she ventured.
Link sighed, "No. Just a request for rupees from Patia's parents."
Zelda inhaled sharply. Link glanced up at her quickly. "It's nothing, Zelda," he murmured.
"Of course," Zelda stood from her chair, "I'm forbidden from seeing Radimir and you're at liberty to contact Patia's family freely."
Link stood as well, "Zelda, I never forbade you. Please don't be upset; you know it's not like that."
Zelda couldn't help herself. She knew Link was right, but between carrying a child and the constant stress of her unwanted marriage, she found herself unable to restrain her emotions as she usually could do with ease. "Then why do you accept their letters so willingly? You act as if she was still—"
"She was my wife, Zelda," Link interrupted, "She will always be a part of my life, and I wish you would not speak slightingly of her."
"I said nothing about her!" Zelda felt her voice grow louder. She swallowed forcefully in an attempt to maintain her composure, "There is no difference between you conversing with her family than with me discussing legal matters with Radimir."
"They're in desperate need of rupees, Zelda," Link tried to reason.
"And Radimir's people are in desperate need of protection," Zelda countered, "We cannot favor one family over a village."
"I will see to Radimir's village," Link reminded her, "I merely desire that our child not grow up watching another man caress its mother."
Zelda's mouth hung agape briefly—a very improper and unusual position for her. She clenched her jaw shut tightly, speaking through her teeth as her eyes watered, "And I merely desire that our child not question why its father consistently contacts the family of another woman."
Zelda turned on her heel, letting the dining hall doors swing shut behind her as she fled the dining hall, Link watching her go silently.
Zelda ran to her bed chambers, apathetic to how she looked to any passerbys. She closed the doors, locking them behind her, before flinging herself upon the bed. She had never locked Link out of their chambers before, but she didn't give the matter any thought as she finally allowed herself to cry. She let buried her face into her pillow, releasing the sobs mounting within her into the cloth. She knew she was being unfair. Link often woke up in cold sweats from nightmares about Patia's death in the middle of the night, and Zelda had never known how to comfort him as he would try to regain his breath, his body taut and his eyes squeezed shut as his chest heaved. But it was as if everything was crashing down upon her all at once. She had known the risks of accepting Link as a husband when he had already had a previous marriage, but she was unprepared to deal with Patia's constant presence in Link's life. She had known the expectations placed upon her as a married woman, but she was unprepared to deal with relinquishing her closest male companions for the sake of caution. She did not want a ball for her birthday. She did not want to surrender her time with Radimir. She did not want Link as a husband.
Zelda finally dried her eyes. She gasped, her hand flying to her stomach as the tiny life inside gave a few small kicks—as if it were concerned for her. The infant inside her reminded her of the reasons for her predicament. She had a reputation to uphold and a duty to fulfill. Her ancestors had been known as wise women whom were always composed (though she did recall Impa once saying that the Zelda of old had begun to cry from feeling overwhelmed when Link had finally defeated Demise). Zelda, too, had almost always remained placid and reasonable in nearly all situations, and she was expected to continue doing so. But the child within her, her marriage to Link—everything was so much more taxing upon her emotions, and she could not help but wonder if her predecessors had ever dealt with such scenarios. She lay prostrate on her back, spread across the bed with one hand still upon her abdomen. The past and her ancestors were not important. What was important was that the royal bloodline was continued. Zelda sang softly to her child, past the new, quiet tears that trailed down her cheeks, until she had lulled herself to sleep.
I'm sorry for posting a few hours early (at least from where I live); I really intended to remain strictly on schedule with this story. However, I take the SAT tomorrow morning and then proceed to embark on a road trip (without internet access) to Panama City for the week. Thus, this chapter would be posted very late Saturday night when I arrive in Panama City, which I didn't want to have to resort to. But please expect chapters to typically be posted on Saturdays—this is hopefully a rare exception. Other than that, I recognize that this story is quickly becoming very dramatic, but I hope you still enjoy it regardless. I can promise that this story will NOT become an OC circus despite the OCs in this chapter—they will not be running this story nor will they be an overbearing presence in it, I assure you. And thank you for bearing with me through the introduction—the central conflict of the story is coming soon! Also, thank you for reading the story in general; I appreciate each alert, favorite, and review. Hope you enjoyed and watch for a new chapter next Saturday!