5: Calendar

The Princess kept her day's well marked, but only in ink.

Zelda remembered things by dates, penned in neat script within orderly boxes upon her calendar, crisp and clean and tacked to the wall of her study for daily inspection.

It was an odd thing, this ritual of hers, but not a single event was missed by her eyes—she'd present smiles on birthdays alongside pleasant gifts, and keepsakes for remembrance whenever some sort of anniversary fell. No matter when it came, or how little warning, the Princess could place dates to happenings with an uncanny speed; never caught unaware of them.

Beautiful writing spoke well of an educated hand, tender and delicate as titles were put to days, numbered and organised with precision and planning. When she learnt of new things to document, she did so; pulling a velvet lined chair from an oaken desk and dipping quill in ink to record it. It may have seemed eccentric to some, were they aware of her obsessive habit, but she herself might describe it as a simple catalogue of circumstance—something to look back upon each year, like a ledger or a diary, slowly filling each box as the years passed by until there wouldn't be a single day left unnamed.

But, there was one event she could not pair to any day of the year, and after an age of it plaguing her, she was not going to let the box remain unfilled any longer.

Satin gloved hands were folded upon her lap as she watched the young man poke about the study with an endearingly childlike curiosity. The verdant green of his tunic was a stark contrast to the white of her stone walls, and even her own peach toned attire, looking out of place as far from the forest as he was. A soft smile warmed her pale face, and with an idle tilt to her head she addressed him kindly.

"Link... I know this may seem a little offhand, but on what day were you born?"

Interrupted from his explorations, the boy ceased his rummaging to look up at her, half way through the motion of flipping through pages with no intent to read them. His handsome features suited the bemusement upon them, blue eyes wide to tell he'd not expected such a question. A blink turned to furrowed brows, and an upward glance in thought, fingers taking to an idle drum against leather bound covers.

"...Oh... Well... It's..." he stammered some, and it was almost painfully obvious he was trying to concoct a white lie for her sake. "...The end of Mashen... Uh, seventeenth. Yes." It was quick and evasive, if not a trifle nervous, as he nodded quickly and pretended to be once again enthralled with the tome.

Zelda forgave him instantly for such a weak willed answer with a small slip of laughter, though a quizzical look soon made it clear her prodding would continue. "The seventeenth would be much more in the middle of Mashen, though, would it not?" She saw him squirm some under her crystalline gaze, and her look softened. "...You don't recall your birthday. Link, that's alright, I quite understand, given the circumstances of your unique upbringing. I was only asking; don't fret for it."

A hand came quickly to ruffle his own floppy cap, something bashful about him now that she'd seen through it like glass. His eyes avoided hers a moment, the corner of his mouth ticking with thought, though Link was quick apologise. "...Sorry. I just didn't want to disappoint you..." he shrugged some, an old ache rising for the oddity he knew he was as he peered up through blonde bangs. "Why such a sudden interest in it?"

Zelda was truthful, though casual in her explanation. She offered him a curt nod as she turned some, taking up the feathered quill to continue her previous task. "Well, it is hardly sudden... I've just not had the opportunity to ask, or thought to do so, though I was curious." A swift dip into the inkwell saw her take with that pristine cursive to the date he'd suggested, marking it as his. "I just wanted to make a note of it... Never mind, though, I'll just set you for the seventeenth from now on."

But it was far too late, now, for Link's interest was well and truly caught. Stretching his neck to full length, he tried to peer past her, eyeing the strange document with a small frown and a conspiratorial twitch to his ears. "Make a note... of it?" he pried, squinting some. "On what?"

She perked up with a questioning hum, as if she'd not heard him at first. After a moment, she seemed torn between her calendar and the Hero, her expression seeming to find nothing amiss with her obsession. "Oh, nothing... Just a personal calendar I keep. I jot down a few important things here and there... So that I don't forget, of course." she flashed him a fleeting smile, suddenly keen to make it appear less important than it truly was to her.

The Princess almost flinched when the boy rose to his feet, soft soled boots quiet against the stone and carpet as he came to stand at her side, setting the book he held down upon her desk. He leaned over it, blocking her access though she made to shoo him, and after only the briefest scan took the flimsy thing in hand to turn and inspect it himself. Though she twisted in her seat, holding a hand up as if silently begging him not to, Zelda reluctantly held her tongue to simply watch him; forlorn.

Calloused fingers held it high in front of his face, sharp blue eyes scouring the thing in a tenses silence; as the pages flipped, he saw months pass by and with them, many notes. He read them to himself, tracing it back mentally as he mouthed the words, each date a footstep retraced through the sands of time—when finally he found what he'd searched for, Link's stomach twisted painfully; baffled as to how she could possibly have summarised the harrowing ordeal into three mere words.

"...The Great Cataclysm."

He felt his jaw clench when he read them, something cold forged within him bubbling to the surface at such a thing as every memory raced across his mind's eye like a plague. Her eyes were upon him; he could feel them tracing every muscle. No louder than a whisper, he asked her with a cold voice he could barely claim as his own.

"...Why is this in here, Zelda?"

With something akin to defeat, she sighed, closing her eyes and lowering her head. "I just... wanted to remember, I suppose." she offered quietly, sombre and matter of fact.

The Hero turned to her then, a distant anger in his eyes though his handsome features were stoic. A tense moment passed between them before he shifted slowly, taking hands to unfasten his belt. He saw her glace up, caught by the movement, only to look away with the faintest hint of a blush—satin gloved hands rose again to persuade him against what he did, though Link continued without heed, tugging the green tunic over his head to reveal toned muscle littered with scars.

He called to her, catching one of her wrists to draw her gaze, and unable to articulate any better than the action, pressed the gloved hand to a streak of mottled skin across his ribs.

"Twenty eight days after leaving the Temple of time. Struck by Volvagia's tail; never turn your back on an enemy." he uttered plainly, devoid of emotion and just as quick as she could name a birthday in her court. He shifted her hand again, moving onto the next; "Thirteen days after. Caught by the tip of a spear in the lost woods; you're not safe even in your own home."

Zelda shuddered some, shaking her head and simply unable to look at him as her lips tried to move, though his voice cut through her as yet another marking was pointed out. "Seventy two days. Slashed by Nabooru while she was brainwashed; even your friends can be turned against you."

So many there were, and he could name them all; falling rocks from the collapsing tower, captured by Gerudo guards, the bite of a rotting corpse risen.

For every scar, he could pair an event, each with a date and a lesson he could recall and name faster than she could absorb them. He was too quick in his listing; Zelda knew he needn't even think to do so, each mark holding a memory far more potent than ink upon a calendar. Upon his very flesh was inscribed his history, meaningful beyond words written or spoken, and for an eternity it seemed to go on until the boy halted mid sentence, seeing unshed tears prickle her lashes.

He fell silent then, strong grip fading from her wrist as he released it, not another word spoken between them as he turned to retrieve his tunic and let her tears fall in peace. He admired her for not crying, though for the moment, Link simply couldn't face the insult his old friend had contrived with naught but three simple words for their past.

As the Princess hid her face from him with a sharp stab of guilt, she heard his footfalls pause, his voice soft and sorry from where it lilted in the doorway.

"Zelda may have her calendar for birthdays and the like... But Shiek has just as many scars that are his to be remembered, and no amount of ink will ever do them justice."

And then, she really did cry, though as her left her, Link new she understood.