Chapter 13

Link wanted to say he successfully avoided Mipha while the Champions were staying in the castle, but that didn't happen. Because he had to watch the princess everywhere she went, he was often inevitably around the other Champions. And since he didn't wear much more "armor" than the tunic the princess gave him, he felt even more defenseless.

Revali the Rito was notably unfriendly to him, probably because he had an ego the size of the divine beast he had to pilot. He pranced around, pretending he was better, smarter, and more capable than everyone else. Link hadn't ever met a Rito before, so his impression of the race got less and less generous every time the feathered one spoke. He wore his cloth like a scarf, but even Link could tell he looked uncomfortable. It seemed that Revali wanted to be a Champion even less than Link wanted to be the Hero.

Daruk the Goron was the polar opposite. His presence was commanding only by size. Even though he was large for a Goron, he was almost like a fun uncle to Link, which was frankly a strange change of pace. Link didn't mind the instant camaraderie he gave, and it didn't even seem forced. Daruk was just that easygoing. Link looked forward to seeing more of Daruk in battle.

Urbosa was feared by many and loved by few. However, the princess was one of those that seemed to love the Gerudo, almost like she was a mother figure to her. Link respected her for that, but it didn't mean he wanted to get much closer to her. She was as pretty as he'd heard by word-of-mouth, and just as intimidating as well—tall, fierce, but beautiful. And for some reason, she didn't seem to mind Link. She didn't ignore him by any means, but neither did she put much social pressure on him.

And then there was Mipha. Even among the most capable warriors of all the other civilizations, it was Mipha that he feared the most.

Because she knew who he really was.

Luckily, all of her conversation starters with him were non-specific and were on the pretense of small talk. She would look at him strangely, as if she were trying to disbelieve that it wasn't really him. But they both knew she couldn't. She wore her cloth as a sash around her shoulder, tied loosely at her other hip. The attire accentuated her faintly glittering scales, making her look queenly. She was wearing the same bracers and jewelry she was wearing when they first met.

Finally, one day, it seemed she couldn't take it anymore. While the princess was eating her breakfast in the dining hall with Mipha and Urbosa, Link was standing to the side, as was his habit. Before he could count to five, the Zora stood out of her chair, said a polite "excuse me," and walked over to him. "May I speak to you privately?" Princess Zelda and Urbosa looked at each other awkwardly, trying and failing to pretend they weren't interested in the imminent conversation.

Link gulped guiltily and nodded. They moved to the far corner of the room, out of earshot of the others.

"How are you here?" Her voice was soft but nonetheless demanding.

Link pointed to the sword on his back, as if that was answer enough.

Her small hands rested on her hips. "You know what I mean, 'Link.' Is that even your real name?"

He nodded, his eyes pleading with hers not to make too much commotion.

"Then — ugh," she stopped and looked around. "Follow me."

Fearing for his life, he did as he was commanded. She led him down a couple of hallways and into a guest room. Her guest room. They were alone.

Uh oh.

She closed the door once he walked in, and she added more weight to her voice. Her pacing was slow but deliberate. "Listen, Link. I don't know what you're doing here with that sword, or why you're even around the royal family in the first place, but this charade has to stop. You're not doing anyone any favors by pretending. I thought you would be different." She walked over to a window and touched it gently. She was quieter now. "I guess I was wrong. When we were in the desert all that time ago, I saw something in you. I thought you could be a great man. But look at you, lying to everyone, pretending to be a hero. Please, have you no humanity?" she asked, turning to look at him again.

Ouch.

"You're lucky I haven't given you away. I just don't want to see my friends get hurt. You can understand that, right?"

Link looked down at his boots to avoid eye contact. He took measured breaths. "I'm sorry."

This time, it was her turn to not answer him. She simply looked at him with concern.

Even to him, the silence was maddening. "I'm sorry I haven't been entirely truthful. To you. Or to anyone."

Her look of surprise gave him just enough courage to tell all, daring to explain himself. He struggled to think of a way to put it gently. "None of this was part of the plan."

She had started to walk towards him, but what he said gave her pause to her step. "What plan?" she asked curiously.

He sighed, waiting for his thoughts to clear. He supposed he could trust her, after everything she'd done for him. It wasn't like she didn't know who he was, anyway. "My master sent me on an assignment to the castle to…" Dare he tell her? He closed his eyes and resigned to her merciful gaze. "To thwart its defenses against Calamity Ganon. None of this," he pointed to the sword on his back, "the sword, the princess, becoming the so-called 'Hero.' None of this was supposed to happen. I was just fulfilling an assignment. Surely that's not so unbelievable."

No word from Mipha. She was actually letting him let it all out. It wasn't something he would normally do, but something about her made him feel at ease. "And then of all people, you were the one chosen for the Zora. You've shown me kindness, and I've repaid you with pain. So, please allow me to apologize."

She seemed pleasantly surprised. She walked over to a nightstand and picked up a small mirror, holding it up to her face. When she gently put it back, she looked down at it in contemplation. "I will accept your apology on one condition. Please stop avoiding me. I'm trying to make friends here, and against my better judgement, I want you to be one of them. I now know what it was that day when I healed you. Somehow I knew, even back then, that you were special. You being able to wield the Master Sword proves it. You were destined for greater than simply being a Yiga. So please, Link. Use that power for good." She looked up at him, and he could see the power in her eyes.

A chill ran down his spine. He wished he could make promises, but something stopped him. So, he simply nodded. "I had a best friend, once," he blurted. "I believe you've met her. Shara was her name, though that's not how she introduced herself. Do you remember?" Is she even still alive?

Mipha started, hints of realization dawning on her face. Her arms fell to her sides. "The Yiga girl?" she asked softly.

Link's eyes bore into hers, imploring.

"I'm sorry, I…I don't know what happened to her," she said. "When you attacked us, your two other men ran off, and you and she were both unconscious. Our caravan left you and went to the Desert Oasis. When I came back, she was gone."

His heart fell into his stomach, no closer to finding closure after all these months. He looked down at the stony ground, comfortless. "I need to go watch over the princess now. I've been away too long."

There was hope in Mipha's expression, as if this conversation meant he would stop avoiding her. "Right."

He gave her one last apologetic look before opening the door and leaving her in her room. He still feared her, but he supposed that at the very least, he could try to let her be his friend.


Chef Maron was a wonder among wonders. He could be a tyrant to his cooking staff, but he was good to Link, probably because he could (and would) eat literally anything that came out of that kitchen. Link's palate was second to none, and he would try anything, even the dubious disasters that one of the staff would cook up. Chef Maron was not a fan of wasting food, so Link was the perfect customer.

It was obvious he liked Link when he filled Link's request without any hesitations. "Anything for you, my friend," he'd said.

He'd even let Link try a piece, which appalled the rest of the kitchen staff. The Chef didn't just give stuff away like that.

But unfortunately for Link, the cake wasn't for him.

After his talk with Mipha, he really got thinking. Even if he wouldn't be able to save them all in the end, he could still try to make nice and at least attempt to make friends.

Which was how he found himself standing before the door to Princess Zelda's room, rapping it gently with one knuckle, holding a cake in his hand. Light filtered into the hallway from underneath the door, so he knew she was still awake.

After he knocked, he heard some shuffling, then an exasperated voice asked, "What is it?"

Link hadn't actually planned what he would do once he got to the door. He should have just left the cake at her door and let her find it herself. But it was too late now. He panicked. "Page forty."

He winced, knowing it was by far the stupidest answer in the history of answers to that question. He sunk his head to his chest in shame. Now that she knew someone was there, there was no backing out at this point.

He heard some tired grumbling and mumbling, questioning why anyone would come to her room at this hour. And what in the blazes was page forty supposed to mean? She was talking to herself, either not caring or not knowing that she could be heard from outside her door. Her footsteps got louder, and she opened the door. "Excuse me, but—" She gaped when she saw who she was talking to. "Oh."

And then she saw what was in his hand. Her voice rose two octaves, and she clapped her hands together excitedly. "Page forty!" She poked her head out into the hall, looked both ways, and opened the door wider and waved him inside. "Come in, come in."

Stunned by her sudden lack of propriety, his mind went completely blank as he obeyed. He slowly shuffled into the large open room, and she closed the door behind him. Standing stiff as a stone, he was utterly confused why she had invited him in, and if he should even be in the room. Alone with her.

She went on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Except she seemed distracted, which was not like her, and quite concerning. She started rambling on about how her studies were going, and how close the Sheikah scholars were to commanding the guardians. Then she started listing off things she loved about the other Champions. It was as if they were the best of friends, but Link was still just plain baffled. Instead of giving him the cold shoulder like her usual, she talked and talked to him like no tomorrow. It definitely felt wrong. They weren't friends.

The brightest, candlelit area of the entire room was her desk in the corner, where there were piles upon piles of documents and books on it. The rest of the room was littered with shadows. Even though there was a large oak table in the middle of the room, complete with a set of padded chairs, she did her research on the tiny desk. She even had a study where she could do research, but at this time of night, she typically did her studying in her room. The bed in the other corner was fully made, as if she'd never slept in it, though Link knew it was made every day by the maids.

She made her way over to her desk and picked up a single candlestick, and then hastily placed it on the large table in the middle. "Did you bring a fork?"

Because he was still too flabbergasted to answer, she turned to him and huffed, then walked over to him. She looked down at the cake in his hands and saw the one silver fork on the platter and put her hands on the hips of her casual dress. "One? How are we supposed to share a cake with one fork?" She sighed, took the cake from his stiff hands, and placed it on the table. She pulled out a chair, then pulled out a second chair to the left and sat on it.

He stood there, aghast. Did she say share?!

"Listen, Link. If I wanted a statue in my room, I'd have it commissioned. Here," she used the blunt end of the fork to cut the cake in half, and gently push the two slices away from each other. "Sit. Have some."

?

"I don't care about propriety right now. Now, I have cake, and I'm feeling generous. And if I want my knight to have some cake, then he's going to have some cake, whether he wants it or not." She stabbed a corner of the piece closest to her and took a bite. She gave a small smile as she savored the taste, then noticed Link still hadn't sat down to enjoy it with her. Patting the seat next to her, she spoke gently but firmly, with a tiny bit of cake unswallowed. "Sit."

Finally, his legs obeyed her, even if his brain couldn't comprehend the command. He sat down, and she slid the fork over to him. "You can use this. I'll just eat with my hands."

He couldn't help but stare at her. What was wrong with her?

She noticed his staring, and her shoulders sank as she sighed. She put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her palms, hiding her face. "I am an idiot."

Um…

Her voice became quiet and reserved, as if she were revealing a closely-guarded secret. "My father thinks my behavior is pure folly. I tried to justify myself, as I have the right to do, and he shut me down. I can't…" a sniffle came from her nose, "I can't do this anymore." She pulled her head up slightly, and he could see her eyes through her fingers. The bright blue shined from the single candle's light, and they started getting red around the edges. Uh oh.

"I can't... I can't just keep pretending that I'm okay. The Goddess isn't hearing my prayers. The spring at Lanayru is closed off to me. I don't have any real friends, and my own father thinks I'm a failure. I feel the most useful when I'm with Impa, but she's in Kakariko half the time, and I don't have the luxury of going out to see her. My own knight is silent as the night and doesn't ever talk to me." A sob now shook her, and tears started to pool in her eyes. Her blond hair fell unbidden in front of her shoulders.

Link had absolutely no idea what to do. He'd never had to console someone before, let alone a crying princess. He was with her almost all day every day, and he never would have thought of her as a failure. Her dedication was a testament to her character, and if the Goddess didn't see that, then it certainly wasn't because she wasn't doing enough. But what was he supposed to say?

The cake remained mostly uneaten between them. Despite appearances, Link wouldn't have minded to try a bite, but he decided it wasn't quite the time for it.

He cleared his throat. "Princess?"

She glanced at him in between her fingers. "Yes?" she asked with some hesitation.

Out of nowhere, Shara came into his mind. The image of her crumpled body lying in her own pool of blood in the desert. His mind blacking out, getting drowned by the painful ringing in his ears. The sand drying out his lungs as he shamefully walked home. He couldn't save her. "Failure is what gives us the motivation to grow stronger. It is how we know we're trying our best."

She let her arms fall on the table, and she wiped her cheeks with her thumb. "How do you know that? You're practically perfect," she whispered. Before he could respond, she continued. "You're a great fighter, you're likeable, you make friends even when you don't realize it. You pulled the Master Sword without even trying, and you're just so stupidly loyal. It's like the Goddess just wants to shove it into my face that I can't seem to do anything right."

"Forgive me, princess, but I must disagree with you. I have failed many times in my life. Sometimes, my failures have been almost too much to bear." Link said. That much was true. His entire heritage was even subject to failure because of his mother's mission and shame. Back in the Hideout, he wasn't ready for an assignment when he should have been, and he was unable to keep Shara safe.

To top it off, his unwilling answering of the call of the Master Sword undoubtedly jeopardized his assignment in the castle. He was doing so well moving up the ranks, but that cursed sword had to change his life forever.

All failures.

The room seemed to grow that much darker when one of candles on the desk in the corner breathed its last. The silence was only interrupted by the princess's dainty sniffles. Not even the sounds of guards patrolling outside phased them. The cake sat uneaten, which was a dirty old shame. It looked too appealing, despite the name monster cake. He couldn't let that be another failure.

So, to ease the tension, Link picked up the fork and took a bite of his half. It tasted even better when he ate it here, as opposed to when Chef Maron let him try some in the kitchens. Here, he could truly savor it. The purple icing had an odd salty kick, and it blended almost too well with the tangy sweet cake. He had to stop himself from humming his enjoyment. He couldn't let the princess know his true weakness.

The princess took some deep breaths and calmed herself down, tucking her unruly hair behind her pointed ears. The tears threatened to dry in streaks down her face, so she wiped them with the back of her hand. She dropped her right arm onto the table, palm up, beckoning for the fork. Link set the handle in her hand, and she stabbed herself a sizeable piece. She shoved it into her mouth and seemed to savor it just as much as Link had. It was Page Forty, after all.

Silently, she set the fork down on Link's side of the plate. He picked it up and followed suit. They traded the fork back and forth without letting words get in the way. Link actually found the experience quite pleasant. He allowed himself to relax and forget his worries about the clan, his obligations to the Master Sword, and his big regrets in life. He got to eat cake in silence, and the princess didn't hate him right now, as far as he could tell. He couldn't think of anything that would make this evening better. Well, except for more cake. Maybe a hydromelon or two.

Sadly, the cake had to come to its end, and Link ate his last bite to finish the job. He set the fork down on the platter, licked any last crumbs off his lips, and cleared his throat. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," the princess replied. He relaxed in the chair, satisfied. "Seriously, don't. For your sake. My reputation is already ruined by my lack of power, but yours is still intact."

Link realized what she was implicating, and his face burned up in embarrassment. "Right."

That actually got a giggle out of her. He didn't think he was funny, but he didn't mind her smile. Then she got a little more somber. "Why don't you talk much?"

He debated answering her with a simple shrugging, but it didn't seem like enough explanation. "I guess I just don't want to burden people. My troubles don't really seem more important than others', so there's not much point in voicing them."

This time, it was her turn to be flabbergasted and speechless. With wide, still-pink eyes, she stared at him. "I'm sorry, Link, but I refuse to believe that. You might not think that other people would care about your problems, but I know there are some people out there that absolutely do. Surely someone back home?"

Back home. Shara would have cared, but he didn't have the luxury of baring his soul to her at the moment. And deep down, he knew that such a moment would never come. She was really the only one whom he trusted. Everyone else back home was more of an acquaintance. Or employer. He shook his head and looked at the now empty plate. "No. No one."

She started to reach out to him with her hand, but pulled back once she got halfway there. From the corner of his eye, he could see her watching him intently, so he averted the gaze. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I can tell home is a sore spot for you. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's all right," he said thoughtfully as he looked up at a framed depiction of the Goddess on the far wall. "There are plenty of good memories mixed in with the bad."

She pondered the new information as she followed his eyes to the portrait. "Yes, that I believe."

While her gaze was away, he watched her. The contours of her face, the tired eyes, the downturned lips.

"Sometimes, though," she added while her attention was still on the painting, "those good memories are harder to find. That's what makes them all the more valuable when you do."

Link found nothing in his heart that would disagree with that statement. "Right." She turned and caught him staring at her, but he didn't look away. He wasn't ashamed.

Neither was she, it seemed. She held his gaze. "Thank you for the cake. I really needed this tonight. And Link, if you would," she hesitated ever so slightly, "please know that I care. About your burdens. We all need someone to listen. All it takes is having the courage to trust."

He was about to nod, but another candle on her desk dimmed to nothingness, and they both turned their heads towards the source. Link suddenly realized how late it was getting, so he subtly scooted his chair out and grabbed the empty platter as he stood. "Please forgive me, princess. I have stayed too long."

She stood as well, straightening her dress and her hair. "No need for apologies. It was me that kept you from your free time, and it is I who must ask forgiveness."

"Understood. Consider it given," he simply said. Her graciousness would be his bane. For the good of his clan, he needed her trust. But it was because of that that he was so afraid to receive it. She deserved more than he could give her, and it was in both of their best interests that he not get too close. It would make it that much harder to betray them all when the time came.

He headed for the door, and before he could leave, she said something that gave him pause.

"I wish that you would stop avoiding me," she said hastily. His hand rested on the knob, and he turned his head to the side to see her from the corner of his eye. "I'd like to be friends. Even if you're my knight."

He truly had no response to that, so he faced her fully and gave her the most miniscule of smiles. She seemed to understand.

He left the room, closing the door in his particular way so it didn't make a creaking sound. Strange, he thought as he walked back to his room. She told him almost verbatim the same thing Mipha had told him. About not avoiding them. About wanting to be friends. Unfortunately for them, he didn't have the heart to make those promises.